Demos

CHAPTER XXVII

A week later; the scene, the familiar kitchen in Wilton Square. Mrs. Mutimer, upon whom time has laid unkind hands since last we saw her, is pouring tea for Alice Rodman, who has just come all the way from the West End to visit her. Alice, too, has suffered from recent vicissitudes; her freshness is to seek, her bearing is no longer buoyant, she is careless in attire. To judge from the corners of her mouth, she is confirmed in querulous habits; her voice evidences the same.

She was talking of certain events of the night before.

‘It was about half-past twelve—I’d just got into bed—when the servant knocks at my door. “Please, mum,” she says, “there’s a policeman wants to see master.” You may think if I wasn’t frightened out of my life! I don’t think it was two minutes before I got downstairs, and there the policeman stood in the hall. I told him I was Mrs. Rodman, and then he said a young man called Henry Mutimer had got locked up for making a disturbance outside a music hall, and he’d sent to my husband to bail him out. Well, just as we were talking in comes Willis. Rare and astonished he was to see me with all my things huddled on and a policeman in the house. We did so laugh afterwards; he said he thought I’d been committing a robbery. But he wouldn’t bail ‘Arry, and I couldn’t blame him. And now he says ‘Arry ‘ll have to do as best he can. He won’t get him another place.’

‘He’s lost his place too?’ asked the mother gloomily.

‘He was dismissed yesterday. He says that’s why he went drinking too much. Out of ten days that he’s been in the place he’s missed two and hasn’t been punctual once. I think you might have seen he got off at the proper time in the morning, mother.’

‘What’s the good o’ blamin’ me?’ exclaimed the old woman fretfully. ‘A deal o’ use it is for me to talk. If I’m to be held ‘countable he doesn’t live here no longer; I know that much.’

‘Dick was a fool to pay his fine. I’d have let him go to prison for seven days; it would have given him a lesson.’

Mrs. Mutimer sighed deeply, and lost herself in despondent thought. Alice sipped her tea and went on with her voluble talk.

‘I suppose he’ll show up some time to-night unless Dick keeps him. But he can’t do that, neither, unless he makes him sleep on the sofa in their sitting-room. A nice come-down for my lady, to be living in two furnished rooms! But it’s my belief they’re not so badly off as they pretend to be. It’s all very well for Dick to put on his airs and go about saying he’s given up every farthing; he doesn’t get me to believe that. He wouldn’t go paying away his pounds so readily. And they have attendance from the landlady; Mrs. Adela doesn’t soil her fine finger’s, trust her. You may depend upon it, they’ve plenty. She wouldn’t speak a word for us; if she cared to, she could have persuaded Mr. Eldon to let me keep my money, and then there wouldn’t have been all this law bother.’

‘What bother’s that?’

‘Why, Dick says he’ll go to law with my husband to recover the money he paid him when we were married. It seems he has to answer for it, because he’s what they call the administrator, and Mr. Eldon can compel him to make it all good again.’

‘But I thought you said you’d given it all up?’

‘That’s my own money, what was settled on me. I don’t see what good it was to me; I never had a penny of it to handle. Now they want to get all the rest out of us. How are we to pay back the money that’s spent and gone, I’d like to know? Willis says they’ll just have to get it if they can. And here’s Dick going on at me because we don’t go into lodgings! I don’t leave the house before I’m obliged, I know that much. We may as well be comfortable as long as we can.

‘The mean thing, that Adela!’ she pursued after a pause. ‘She was to have married Mr. Eldon, and broke it off when she found he wasn’t going to be as rich as she thought; then she caught hold of Dick. I should like to have seen her face when she found that will!—I wish it had been me!’

Alice laughed unpleasantly. Her mother regarded her with an air of curious inquiry, then murmured:

‘Dick and she did the honest thing. I’ll say so much for them.’

‘I’ll be even with Mrs. Adela yet,’ pursued Alice, disregarding the remark. ‘She wouldn’t speak for me, but she’s spoken for herself, no fear. She and her airs!’

There was silence; then Mrs. Mutimer said:

‘I’ve let the top bedroom for four-and-six.’

‘’Arry’s room? What’s he going to do then?’

‘He’ll have to sleep on the chair-bedstead, here in the kitchen. That is, if I have him in the ‘ouse at all. And I don’t know yet as I shall.’

‘Have you got enough money to go on with?’ Alice asked.

‘Dick sent me a pound this morning. I didn’t want it’

‘Has he been to see you yet, mother?’

The old woman shook her head.

‘Do you want him to come, or don’t you?’

There was silence. Alice looked at her mother askance. The leathern mask of a face was working with some secret emotion.

‘He’ll come if he likes, I s’pose,’ was her abrupt answer.

In the renewed silence they heard some one enter the house and descend the kitchen stairs. ‘Arry presented himself. He threw his hat upon a chair, and came forward with a swagger to seat himself at the tea-table.

His mother did not look at him.

‘Anything to eat?’ he asked, more loudly than was necessary, as if he found the silence oppressive.

‘There’s bread and butter,’ replied Alice, with lofty scorn.

‘Hullo! Is it you?’ exclaimed the young man, affecting to recognise his sister. ‘I thought you was above coming here Have they turned you out of your house?’

‘That’s what’ll happen to you, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘Arry cast a glance towards his mother. Seeing that her eyes were fixed in another direction, he began pantomimic interrogation of Alice. The latter disregarded him.

‘Arry presented an appearance less than engaging. He still bore the traces of last night’s debauch and of his sojourn in the police-cell. There was dry mud on the back of his coat, his shirt-cuffs and collar were of a slaty hue, his hands and face filthy. He began to eat bread and butter, washing down each morsel with a gulp of tea. The spoon remained in the cup whilst he drank. To ‘Arry it was a vast relief to be free from the conventionalities of Adela’s table.

‘That lawyer fellow Yottle’s been to see them to-day,’ he remarked presently.

Alice looked at him eagerly.

‘What about?’

‘There was talk about you and Rodman.’

‘What did they say?’

‘Couldn’t hear. I was in the other room. But I heard Yottle speaking your name.’

He had, in fact, heard a few words through the keyhole, but not enough to gather the sense of the conversation, which had been carried on in discreet tones.

‘There you are!’ Alice exclaimed, addressing her mother. ‘They’re plotting against us, you see.’

‘I don’t think it ‘ud be Dick’s wish to do you harm,’ said Mrs. Mutimer absently.

‘Dick ‘ll do whatever she tells him.’

‘Adela, eh?’ observed ‘Arry. ‘She’s a cat.’

‘You mind your own business!’ returned his sister.

‘So it is my business. She looked at me as if I wasn’t good enough to come near her ‘igh-and-mightiness. I’m glad to see her brought down a peg, chance it!’

Alice would not condescend to join her reprobate brother, even in abuse of Adela. She very shortly took leave of her mother, who went up to the door with her.

‘Are you going to see Dick?’ Mrs. Mutimer said, in the passage.

‘I shan’t see him till he comes to my house,’ replied Alice sharply.

The old woman stood on the doorstep till her daughter was out of sight, then sighed and returned to her kitchen.

Alice returned to her more fashionable quarter by omnibus. Though Rodman had declined to make any change in their establishment, he practised economy in the matter of his wife’s pin-money. Gone were the delights of shopping, gone the little lunches in confectioners’ shops to which Alice, who ate sweet things like a child, had been much addicted. Even the carriage she could seldom make use of, for Rodman had constant need of it—to save cab-fares, he said. It was chiefly employed in taking him to and from the City, where he appeared to have much business at present.

On reaching home Alice found a telegram from her husband.

‘Shall bring three friends to dinner. Be ready for us at half-past seven.’

Yet he had assured her that he would dine quietly alone with her at eight o’clock. Alice, who was weary of the kind of men her husband constantly brought, felt it as a bitter disappointment. Besides, it was already after six, and there were no provisions in the house. But for her life she durst not cause Rodman annoyance by offering a late or insufficient dinner. She thanked her stars that her return had been even thus early.

The men when they presented themselves were just of the kind she expected—loud-talking—their interests divided between horse-racing and the money-market; she was a cipher at her own table, scarcely a remark being addressed to her. The conversation was meaningless to her; it seemed, indeed, to be made purposely mysterious; terms of the stock-exchange were eked out with nods and winks. Rodman was in far better spirits than of late, whence Alice gathered that some promising rascality was under consideration.

The dinner over, she was left to amuse herself as she could in the drawing-room. Rodman and his friends continued their talk round the table, and did not break up till close upon mid night. Then she heard the men take their departure. Rodman presently came up to her and threw himself into a chair. His face was very red, a sign with which Alice was familiar; but excessive potations apparently had not produced the usual effect, for he was still in the best of tempers.

‘Seen that young blackguard?’ he began by asking.

‘I went to see mother, and he came while I was there.’

‘He’ll have to look after himself in future. You don’t catch me helping him again.’

‘He says Mr. Yottle came to see them to-day.’

‘To see who?’

‘Dick and his wife. He heard them talking about us.’

Rodman laughed.

‘Let ‘em go ahead! I wish them luck.’

‘But can’t they ruin us if they like?’

‘It’s all in a life. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been ruined, old girl. Let’s enjoy ourselves whilst we can. There’s nothing like plenty of excitement.’

‘It’s all very well for you, Willis. But if you had to sit at home all day doing nothing, you wouldn’t find it so pleasant.’

‘Get some novels.’

‘I’m tired of novels,’ she replied, sighing.

‘So Yottle was with them?’ Rodman said musingly, a smile still on his face. ‘I wish I knew what terms they’ve come to with Eldon.’

‘I wish I could do something to pay out that woman!’ exclaimed Alice bitterly. ‘She’s at the bottom of it all. She hates both of us. Dick ‘ud never have gone against you but for her.’

Rodman, extended in the low chair at full length, fixed an amused look on her.

‘You’d like to pay her out, eh?’

‘Wouldn’t I just!’

‘Ha! ha! what a vicious little puss you are! It’s a good thing I don’t tell you everything, or you might do damage.’

Alice turned to him with eagerness.

‘What do you mean?’

He let his head fall back, and laughed with a drunken man’s hilarity. Alice persisted with her question.

‘Come and sit here,’ Rodman said, patting his knee.

Alice obeyed him.

‘What is it, Willis? What have you found out? Do tell me, there’s a dear!’

‘I’ll tell you one thing, old girl: you’re losing your good looks. Nothing like what you were when I married you.’

She flushed and looked miserable.

‘I can’t help my looks. I don’t believe you care how I look.’

‘Oh, don’t I, though! Why, do you think I’d have stuck to you like this if I didn’t? What was to prevent me from realising all the cash I could and clearing off, eh? ‘Twouldn’t have been the first—’

‘The first what?’ Alice asked sharply.

‘Never mind. You see I didn’t do it. Too bad to leave the Princess in the lurch, wouldn’t it be?’

Alice seemed to have forgotten the other secret. She searched his face for a moment, deeply troubled, then asked:

‘Willis, I want to know who Clara is?’

He moved his eyes slowly, and regarded her with a puzzled look.

‘Clara? What Clara?’

‘Somebody you know of. You’ve got a habit of talking in your sleep lately. You were calling out “Clara!” last night, and that’s the second time I’ve heard you.’

He was absent for a few seconds, then laughed and shook his head.

‘I don’t know anybody called Clara. It’s your mistake.’

‘I’m quite sure it isn’t,’ Alice murmured discontentedly.

‘Well, then, we’ll say it is,’ he rejoined in a firmer voice. ‘If I talk in my sleep, perhaps it’ll be better for you to pay no attention. I might find it inconvenient to live with you.’

Alice looked frightened at the threat.

‘You’ve got a great many secrets from me,’ she said despondently.

‘Of course I have. It is for your good. I was going to tell you one just now, only you don’t seem to care to bear it.’

‘Yes, yes, I do!’ Alice exclaimed, recollecting. ‘Is it something about Adela?’

He nodded.

‘Wouldn’t it delight you to go and get her into a terrible row with Dick?’

‘Oh, do tell me! What’s she been doing?’

‘I can’t quite promise you the fun,’ he replied, laughing. ‘It may miss fire. What do you think of her meeting Eldon alone in the wood that Monday afternoon, the day after she found the will, you know?’

‘You mean that?’

‘I saw them together.’

‘But she—you don’t mean she—?’

Even Alice, with all her venom against her brother’s wife, had a difficulty in attributing this kind of evil to Adela. In spite of herself she was incredulous.

‘Think what you like,’ said Rodman. ‘It looks queer, that’s all.’

It was an extraordinary instance of malice perpetrated out of sheer good-humour. Had he not been assured by what he heard in the wood of the perfectly innocent relations between Adela and Eldon, he would naturally have made some profitable use of his knowledge before this. As long as there was a possibility of advantage in keeping on good terms with Adela, he spoke to no one of that meeting which he had witnessed. Even now he did not know but that Adela had freely disclosed the affair to her husband. But his humour was genially mischievous. If he could gratify Alice and at the same time do the Mutimers an ill turn, why not amuse himself?

‘I’ll tell Dick the very first thing in the morning!’ Alice declared, aglow with spiteful anticipation.

Rodman approved the purpose, and went off to bed laughing uproariously.