THE BROUGHAM
I am afraid that, in my nature somewhere, there must be a touch of
the original savage. It is a painful thing to have to admit, but when
one is so full of faults, as I confessedly am, I fancy that one or
two, more or less, can hardly make much difference. I only know that,
when I saw that person go flying over the back of his own stall, I was
obliged to Mr Hammond for having sent him there. More, a good deal
more!--I should not have minded if he had sent a good many of the
people round us after him, especially--in spite of his age--that
barefaced old man on the other side of the vinegary little woman, who,
under cover of the excitement which immediately ensued, came to my
side, and took my hand in his, and began to look at me in a fashion,
and to say things, which made me burn with a desire to throw him into
the middle of the band.
Of course there was a disturbance. All the people in the theatre
jumped to their feet; the band ceased playing; the performance on the
stage stopped also. Shouts and noises came from all parts of the
building. Half-a-dozen men came towards us as quickly as the cramped
space permitted. Mr Hammond confronted them as coolly as you please;
he could keep his presence of mind.
“Only gave the fellow a taste of what he deserves. Chap who behaves
like a blackguard to a woman wants drowning. Sorry, though, to have
had to make a mess with him in a place like this.”
Attendants seemed to be advancing on us from all sides. Suddenly I
found that Basil Carter was standing in front of me. He was white with
anxiety, or agitation, or rage, or something. He began to order me
about as if I were a child.
“Miss Norah, come up to my box, at once. Mr Hammond, I shall call you
to a personal account for this.”
That fired me.
“Account! Why should you call him to account? He has merely marked his
sense of an insult which was offered me. Do you consider that he is to
blame for that?”
“There is a right and wrong way of doing that sort of thing, Miss
Norah, as Mr Hammond knows. Will you be so good as to come up into my
box?”
That ridiculous Mr Hammond turned to me--his tenacity of purpose, in
his own absurd way, was wonderful.
“Miss Norah, you’ll give me an answer before you go!”
“If it had not been for the almost insane manner in which you have
behaved, there might never have been this trouble. That is the answer
I give you, and that is the only one you ever will receive.”
I marched off. In the corridor I found myself in the company of the
four. I was in a towering passion, and they also were in a rage, each
in his own way.
“The man is a scoundrel--perfect scoundrel--ought to be treated as
such!”
This was the Major.
“Who is a scoundrel, Major Tibbet?”
“Man Hammond--regular ruffian!”
“I should recommend you to go back and tell him so. You will find
that, in the proceedings which will follow, he will be disposed to do
his share.”
“He hasn’t behaved well, Miss Norah--really, he hasn’t!” This was Mr
Rumford; his manner I should describe as cattish. There was something
about him which reminded me of an elderly tabby. “Hoodwinked us in a
most ungentlemanly manner. Induced us to entrust him with you, on what
were absolutely false pretences. He really did.”
“If that is so, I am more indebted to him than I imagined. That is all
I can say, Mr Rumford.”
“It isn’t fair of you to say such things, Miss Norah.” Mr Purchase had
the audacity to say that. “You came with us as our common guest----”
“Please don’t speak of me as your common guest, or as your guest at
all, Mr Purchase.”
“You purposely twist my words. You know perfectly well----”
“I know perfectly well that I wish to have nothing to say to you, nor
do I wish you to have anything to say to me--thank you very much
indeed, Mr Purchase. Gentlemen, I need not trouble you to come any
farther--I am going home.”
“Going home!” cried Mr Carter. “You are coming to my box, Miss Norah.”
“I am going to do nothing of the kind.”
“But, Miss Norah, surely you will not punish us because of Hammond’s
misconduct; surely----”
“Do not trouble yourself to say anything more, Mr Carter; and be so
good as to understand me clearly. I am indebted to you, separately and
collectively, for a very unpleasant evening. I will not apportion the
blame among you; I will leave you to do that yourselves. I can only
say that had I known what sort of persons you were I should not have
trespassed on your generosity, in search--in vain search--of an
evening’s entertainment. You have already caused me to be a principal
figure in a most disagreeable scene; you see how, thanks to you, the
people are staring at me now--it’s a wonder the police do not turn me
out! Being fearful lest you may drag me into another, I will say
good-evening to you now--and thank you very much. Please do not come
with me another inch.”
“But, Miss Norah, you will at least allow us to see you home.”
“See me home!--you! I would sooner ride with a cabman on his box.”
“But you have no carriage!”
“I have no omnibus, you mean. It’s a kind of vehicle I never cared
about. If you persist in following me I shall have to appeal to the
attendants for protection. There are cabs. I will get one for myself.”
Someone touched me on the arm. It was the girl who had been in the
brown man’s box. She looked up at me with the most lovely smile,
speaking in the sweetest voice:
“Perhaps you will allow me to relieve you of that difficulty. I have a
carriage at the door. It is at your service to take you home.”
“It is very good of you to make me such an offer, but I could not
think of troubling you--of putting you to so much inconvenience.”
“There will be no inconvenience, and no trouble. I have some friends
here with whom I am going on. If you don’t use it it will go home
empty, so it may as well take you.”
“But--the gentleman who was with you in the box?”
“My brother?” Somehow I was pleased to hear that the brown man was her
brother. “He is looking for my friends; you needn’t worry about him.
Come, I’ll show you which my carriage is.”
She laid her hand lightly on my arm. All at once I found myself
walking at her side, as if we were old acquaintances. The four stood
staring after us. It was quite a comfort to be walking with a woman,
after being the observed of all those men--particularly as she was so
pretty and so beautifully dressed. As we went she talked--always with
that lovely smile.
“You’re a girl of many adventures.”
“To-night I am--too many.”
“Oh, I don’t know. A girl can’t have too many adventures, especially
if they’re amusing ones. Do you think she can? There isn’t a man in
the theatre who has eyes for anyone but you.”
“It’s not my fault. I’d almost rather they hadn’t any eyes at all.”
She laughed, as if something I had said had tickled her.
“It’s not good wishing that; they have--big ones where a women is
concerned. There is my carriage. The commissionaire will open the door
for you; I didn’t bring a footman. Tell them where to drive.
Good-night. No thanks! Delighted it’s of use to you.”
I left her at the top of the steps which led into the street. At the
foot a brougham was standing. As I went down the steps she signalled
to the porter, or commissionaire, or whatever he was, who, I suppose,
was attached to the theatre. He held the brougham door open for me to
enter. I stepped in, waving my hand to her in farewell greeting, and
the door was closed. I gave the commissionaire my address, leaned back
among the cushions--lovely cushions they were, like down to one’s
back!--congratulating myself on having got rid of my late companions,
and of being in the possession of so charming a conveyance. Jane’s
shoes were pinching me cruelly. I was thinking to myself that since,
fortunately, I was alone, I should be able to take them off at
once--even if I had to enter the house barefooted. The brougham moved
off. I took it for granted that we had started, and was already
leaning forward to take off those wretched shoes--the agony they were
occasioning me seemed to have suddenly become more intense than
ever--when, before we could have gone more than three or four yards,
with a little jerk we stopped. The door was opened, someone came
floundering in, the door was shut with a bang; we were off again--this
time at a good round pace, which plainly meant business.
They say that women are fond of italics and notes of exclamation, and
I daresay I am fonder of them than I ought to be--it is so convenient
to put a mark which expresses a great deal without your having to go
to the trouble of explaining just what. But all the italics and notes
of exclamation put together would be incapable of even hinting at what
my feelings were when I realised that the object who had come
blundering in upon my privacy was the bald-headed creature who had
been sitting on the other side of the sour little woman. The discovery
of his identity set my brain--which had been settling down into a
condition of normal quiescence--in a whirl again. Had I been the
victim of a deep-laid plot? What was the meaning of the wretch’s
presence there?
His demeanour, the words with which he addressed me, the
matter-of-fact air with which he uttered them, made the confusion
worse confounded.
“The idea of finding you in here! Best joke I ever had in my life! You
little dear!”
He put out his hand and felt for mine. I fancy that the rapidity with
which I withdrew myself as far as possible from him into the opposite
corner a little startled him.
“How dare you intrude yourself in here?”
He laughed--actually laughed.
“You can carry things off with an air. I thought you could, by the way
you treated that chap who tried to spoon you--in the middle of the
stalls. He had a nerve. It was as good as a play to watch him. Not
that I blame him for wanting to spoon you--there isn’t a man living
who wouldn’t draw a blank cheque for the chance of doing it. You
little sweet!”
I hurled back the hand, which again came out towards me, with a degree
of force which I imagine rather shook his ancient frame.
“Be so good as to stop the carriage, and at once get out!”
“Get out?”
“Certainly, sir--get out!”
“Get out of my own carriage?”
“Your own carriage?” A wild thought rushed through my mind. Was it
possible that that lovely lady could have been playing me a trick? I
had heard of the deceitfulness of women--and seen, alas! too much;
there was a good deal of deceit practised in the bosom of my own
family, but that would be to surpass all bounds. It was incredible.
Such double dealing could not be! “It’s not your carriage. It’s the
brown man’s sister’s!”
“The brown man’s sister’s? And who is the brown man’s sister? For the
matter of that, who’s the brown man?”
“I don’t know her name--I don’t know either of their names--but it’s
hers. I know it’s hers--she told me it was hers!”
“Did she? Then she could tell ’em. Some folks can.” He winked at
me--one of those disgraceful winks of which he was so fond. “I tell
you that this carriage is mine--mine! Or rather, it’s my wife’s. I
presented it to her--with my love. If you want to have any peace at
all you’re obliged to give your wife things--at intervals. What you’ve
got to do is to make the intervals as long as you can. Between
ourselves, my wife is waiting for it now--on the pavement. She’ll be
getting anxious. She soon gets anxious, does Maria. When she finds out
what has become of it--if she ever does find out--the mercury’ll run
up the thermometer at a rate that’ll burst the whole machine. I know.
I’ve had it happen before, and found it most expensive. That’s when
the intervals recur.” The dreadful being winked again. “But this time
I shan’t mind. When I noticed, in the theatre there, the friendly way
in which you received those little movements of my eyelids I had my
hopes, but they never went as far as this. You little pet!”
Out came the hand, and back it went--quicker than it came.
“Will you keep yourself to yourself, sir? Did you dare for one moment
to suggest that I encouraged you in your insolent behaviour?”
“Never know what a woman calls encouragement. But when you find her
waiting for you in your own wife’s brougham, it does--well, it does
look as if something was meant, doesn’t it?”
“Do you venture to insinuate that I got into your wife’s carriage
knowing it was here, and that you were coming into it?”
“Now, my dear, don’t let’s ask each other questions. I’m used to being
put through my catechism; it happens every day of my life. Do let’s be
sociable.”
“Be so good as to stop the carriage--your wife’s carriage--this
instant. If you won’t get out of it, I will.”
“Not if I know it. Now you’re unreasonable. Whatever happens now, I
shall get it hot. I may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.”
“It’s a matter of complete indifference to me for what you’re hung, so
long as you are hung. If you won’t stop the carriage, then I shall.”
“No, you don’t.”
He moved towards me with a degree of agility which was incredible to
his multitudinous years.
“Man!” I cried.
Putting my hand upon his shoulder I drove him back against the
cushions with a degree of vigour which nearly sent him through them. I
think it occasioned him surprise. For the moment he seemed to be able
to do nothing else but gasp.
I daresay I should have stopped the carriage, only just at that moment
another brougham came tearing along, which, the moment it passed, was
drawn right across our path. We stopped, perforce, with a jerk, and, I
suspect, with remarks from our driver. The other stopped also,
somebody jumped out, and there, standing in the road, looking in at
us, was the brown man.