Demos

Four o’clock struck.

From Brixton our unconventional friend betook himself straight to Holloway. Having, as he felt sure, the means of making things decidedly uncomfortable for Mr. Rodman Williamson, it struck him that the eftest way would be to declare at once to his brother Richard all he knew and expected; Dick would not be slow in bestirring himself to make Rodman smart ‘Arry was without false shame; he had no hesitation in facing his brother. But Mr. Mutimer, he was told, was not at home. Then he would see Mrs. Mutimer. But the servant was indisposed to admit him, or even to trouble her mistress. ‘Arry had to request her to say that ‘Mr. ‘Enery Mutimer’ desired to see the lady of the house. He chuckled to see the astonishment produced by his words. Thus he got admittance to Adela.

She was shocked at the sight of him, could find no words, yet gave him her hand. He told her he wished to see his brother on very particular business. But Richard would not be back before eight o’clock in the evening, and it was impossible to say where he could be found. ‘Arry would not tell Adela what brought him, only assured her that it had nothing to do with his own affairs. He would call again in the evening. Adela felt inhuman in allowing him to go out into the rain, but she could not risk giving displeasure to her husband by inviting ‘Arry to stay.

He came again at half-past eight. Mutimer had been home nearly an hour and was expecting him. ‘Arry lost no time in coming to the point.

‘He’s married that other woman, I could see that much. Go and see for yourself. She give me ‘alf-a-crown to tell all about him. I’m only afraid he’s got off by this time.’

‘Why didn’t you go and give information to the police at once?’ Mutimer cried, in exasperation.

‘Arry might have replied that he had a delicacy in waiting upon those gentlemen. But his brother did not stay for an answer. Rushing from the room, he equipped himself instantly with hat, coat, and umbrella.

‘Show me the way to that house. Come along, there’s no time to lose. Adela!’ he called, ‘I have to go out; can’t say when I shall be back. Don’t sit up if I’m late.’

A hansom bore the brothers southwards as fast as hansom could go.

They found Clara in the house, a haggard, frenzied woman. Already she had been to the police, but they were not inclined to hurry matters; she had no satisfactory evidence to give them. To Mutimer, when he had explained his position, she told everything—of her marriage in London nine years ago, her going with her husband to America, his desertion of her. Richard took her at once to the police-station. They would have to attend at the court next morning to swear an information.

By ten o’clock Mutimer was at Waterloo, taking train for Wimbledon. At Rodman’s house he found darkness, but a little ringing brought Alice herself to the door. She thought it was her husband, and, on recognising Richard, all but dropped with fear; only some ill news could explain his coming thus. With difficulty he induced her to go into a room out of the hall. She was in her dressing-gown, her long beautiful hair in disorder, her pretty face white and distorted.

‘What is it, Dick? what is it, Dick?’ she kept repeating mechanically, with inarticulate moanings between. She had forgotten her enmity against her brother and spoke to him as in the old days. He, too, was all kindness.

‘Try and keep quiet a little, Alice. I want to talk to you. Yes, it’s about your husband, my poor girl; but there’s nothing to be frightened at. He’s gone away, that’s all. I want you to come to London with me.’

She had no more control over herself than a terrified child; her words and cries were so incoherent that Mutimer feared lest she had lost her senses. She was, in truth, on the borders of idiocy. It was more than half-an-hour before, with the servant’s assistance, he could allay her hysterical anguish. Then she altogether refused to accompany him. If she did so she would miss her husband; he would not go without coming to see her. Richard was reminded by the servant that it was too late to go by train. He decided to remain in the house through the night.

He had not ventured to tell her all the truth, nor did her state encourage him to do so in the morning. But he then succeeded in persuading her to come with him; Rodman, he assured her, must already be out of England, for he had committed a criminal offence and knew that the police were after him. Alice was got to the station more dead than alive; they were at home in Holloway by half-past ten. Richard then left her in Adela’s hands and sped once more to Brixton.

He got home again at two. As he entered Adela came down the stairs to meet him.

‘How is she?’ he asked anxiously.

‘The same. The doctor was here an hour ago. We must keep her as quiet as possible. But she can’t rest for a moment.’

She added—

‘Three gentlemen have called to see you. They would leave no name, and, to tell the truth, were rather rude. They seemed to doubt my word when I said you were not in.’

At his request she attempted to describe these callers. Mutimer recognised them as members of his committee.

‘Rude to you? You must have mistaken. What did they come here for? I shall in any case see them to-night.’

They returned to the subject of Alice’s illness.

‘I’ve half a mind to tell her the truth,’ Mutimer said. ‘Surely she’d put the blackguard out of her head after that.’

‘No, no; you mustn’t tell her!’ Adela interposed. ‘I am sure it would be very unwise.’

Alice was growing worse; in an hour or two delirium began to declare itself. She had resisted all efforts to put her to bed; at most she would lie on a couch. Whilst Richard and his wife were debating what should be done, it was announced to them that the three gentlemen had called again. Mutimer went oft angrily to see them.

He was engaged for half-an-hour. Then Adela heard the visitors depart; one of them was speaking loudly and with irritation. She waited for a moment at the head of the stairs, expecting that Mutimer would come out to her. As he did not, she went into the sitting-room.

Mutimer stood before the fireplace, his eyes on the ground, his face discoloured with vehement emotion.

‘What has happened?’ she asked.

He looked up and beckoned to her to approach.

CHAPTER XXXIV

Adela bad never seen him so smitten with grave trouble. She knew him in brutal anger and in surly ill-temper; but his present mood had nothing of either. He seemed to stagger beneath a blow which had all but crushed him and left him full of dread. He began to address her in a voice very unlike his own—thick, uncertain; he used short sentences, often incomplete.

‘Those men are on the committee. One of them got a letter this morning—anonymous. It said they were to be on their guard against me. Said the Company’s a swindle—that I knew it—that I’ve got money out of the people on false pretences. And Hilary’s gone—gone off—taking all he could lay hands on. The letter says so—I don’t know. It says I’m thick with the secretary—a man I never even saw. That he’s a well-known swindler—Delancey his name is. And these fellows believe it—demand that I shall prove I’m innocent. What proof can I give? They think I kept out of the way on purpose this morning.’

He ceased speaking, and Adela stood mute, looking him in the face. She was appalled on his account. She did not love him; too often his presence caused her loathing. But of late she had been surprised into thinking more highly of some of his qualities than it had hitherto been possible for her to do. She could never forget that he toiled first and foremost for his own advancement to a very cheap reputation; he would not allow her to lose sight of it had she wished. But during the present winter she had discerned in him a genuine zeal to help the suffering, a fervour in kindly works of which she had not believed him capable. Very slowly the conviction had come to her, but in the end she could not resist it. One evening, in telling her of the hideous misery he had been amongst, his voice failed and she saw moisture in his eyes. Was his character changing? Had she wronged him in attaching too much importance to a fault which was merely on the surface? Oh, but there were too many indisputable charges against him. Yet a man’s moral nature may sometimes be strengthened by experience of the evil he has wrought. All this rushed through her mind as she now stood gazing at him.

‘But how can they credit an anonymous letter?’ she said. ‘How can they believe the worst of you before making inquiries?’

‘They have been to the office of the Company. Everything is upside down. They say Hilary isn’t to be found.’

‘Who can have written such a letter?’

‘How do I know? I have enemies enough, no doubt. Who hasn’t that makes himself a leader?’

There was the wrong note again. It discouraged her; she was silent.

‘Look here, Adela,’ he said, ‘do you believe this?’

‘Believe it!’

‘Do you think I’m capable of doing a thing like that—scraping together by pennies the money of the poorest of the poor just to use it for my own purposes—could I do that?’

‘You know I do not believe it.’

‘But you don’t speak as if you were certain. There’s something—But how am I to prove I’m innocent? How can I make people believe I wasn’t in the plot? They’ve only my word—who’ll think that enough? Anyone can tell a lie and stick to it, if there’s no positive proof against him. How am I to make you believe that I was taken in?’

‘But I tell you that a doubt of your innocence does not enter my mind. If it were necessary, I would stand up in public before all who accused you and declare that they were wrong. I do not need your assurance. I recognise that it would be impossible for you to commit such a crime.’

‘Well, it does me good to hear you say that,’ he replied, with light of hope in his eyes. ‘I wanted to feel sure of that. You might have thought that’—he sank his voice—‘that because I could think of destroying that will—’

‘Don’t speak of that!’ she interrupted, with a gesture of pain. ‘I say that I believe you. It is enough. Don’t speak about me any more. Think of what has to be done.’

‘I have promised to be in Clerkenwell at eight o’clock. There’ll be a meeting. I shall do my best to show that I am innocent. You’ll look after Alice? It’s awful to have to leave her whilst she’s like that.’

‘Trust me. I will not leave her side for a moment. The doctor will be here again to-night.’

A thought struck him.