"I have the right to write my recollections of him, and, subject to
certain provisions of the Law, to base anything on them I think fit," I
replied.
"But," she cried aghast, "there can't be _two_ 'Lives'!..."
"It's news to me that two were contemplated," I returned. "The point is,
that I can get mine published, and you can't."
Schofield's harsh voice sounded suddenly--but again to Maschka, not to
me.
"Ye might remind Mr. Harrison that others have capabilities in business
besides himself. Beyond a doubt our sales will be comparatively small,
but they'll be to such as have not made the great refusal."
Think of it!... I almost laughed.
"Oh!... Been trying it?" I inquired.
He made no reply.
"Well, those who have made the refusal have at least had something to
refuse," I said mildly. Then, realising that this was mere quarrelling, I
returned to the point. "Anyhow, there's no question of refusing to write
the 'Life.' I admit that during the last fortnight I've met with certain
difficulties; but the task isn't so easy as perhaps it looks.... I'm
making progress."
"I suppose," she said hesitatingly, after a pause, "that you don't care
to show it as far as it is written?"
For a moment I also hesitated. I thought I saw where she was. Thanks to
that Lancashire jackanapes, there was division between us; and I had
pretty well made up my mind, not only that he thought himself quite
capable of writing Andriaovsky's "Life," himself, but that he had
actually made an attempt in that direction. They had come in the
suspicion that I was throwing them over, and, though that suspicion was
removed, Maschka wished, if there was any throwing over to be done, to do
it herself. In a word, she wanted to compare me with Schofield.
"To see it as far as it is written," I repeated slowly.... "Well, you
may. That is, you, Michael's sister, may. But on the condition that
you neither show it to anybody else nor speak of it to anybody else."
"Ah!" she said.... "And only on those conditions?"
"Only on those conditions."
I saw a quick glance between them. "Shall we tell him?" it seemed to
say....
"Including the man Michael's sister is going to marry?" she said
abruptly.
My attitude was deeply apologetic, but, "Including anybody whomsoever," I
answered.
"Then," she said, rising, "we won't bother. But will you at least let us
know, soon, when we may expect your text?"
"I will let you know," I replied slowly, "one week from to-day."
On that assurance they left; and when they had gone I crossed once more
to the lower shelf that contained my letter-files. I turned up the file
for 1900 once more. During their visit I had had an idea.