the club of queer trades-第9章

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rn　mind。〃

〃What　is　the　modern　mind？〃　asked　Grant。

〃Oh；　it's　enlightened；　you　know；　and　progressiveand　faces　the　facts　of　life　seriously。〃　At　this　moment　another　roar　of　laughter　came　from　within。

〃I　only　ask；〃　said　Basil；　〃because　of　the　last　two　friends　of　yours　who　had　the　modern　mind；　one　thought　it　wrong　to　eat　fishes　and　the　other　thought　it　right　to　eat　men。　I　beg　your　pardonthis　way；　if　I　remember　right。〃

〃Do　you　know；〃　said　Lord　Beaumont；　with　a　sort　of　feverish　entertainment；　as　he　trotted　after　us　towards　the　interior；　〃I　can　never　quite　make　out　which　side　you　are　on。　Sometimes　you　seem　so　liberal　and　sometimes　so　reactionary。　Are　you　a　modern；　Basil？〃

〃No；〃　said　Basil；　loudly　and　cheerfully；　as　he　entered　the　crowded　drawing…room。

This　caused　a　slight　diversion；　and　some　eyes　were　turned　away　from　our　slim　friend　with　the　Oriental　face　for　the　first　time　that　afternoon。　Two　people；　however；　still　looked　at　him。　One　was　the　daughter　of　the　house；　Muriel　Beaumont；　who　gazed　at　him　with　great　violet　eyes　and　with　the　intense　and　awful　thirst　of　the　female　upper　class　for　verbal　amusement　and　stimulus。　The　other　was　Sir　Walter　Cholmondeliegh；　who　looked　at　him　with　a　still　and　sullen　but　unmistakable　desire　to　throw　him　out　of　the　window。

He　sat　there；　coiled　rather　than　seated　on　the　easy　chair；　everything　from　the　curves　of　his　smooth　limbs　to　the　coils　of　his　silvered　hair　suggesting　the　circles　of　a　serpent　more　than　the　straight　limbs　of　a　manthe　unmistakable；　splendid　serpentine　gentleman　we　had　seen　walking　in　North　London；　his　eyes　shining　with　repeated　victory。

〃What　I　can't　understand；　Mr　Wimpole；〃　said　Muriel　Beaumont　eagerly；　〃is　how　you　contrive　to　treat　all　this　so　easily。　You　say　things　quite　philosophical　and　yet　so　wildly　funny。　If　I　thought　of　such　things；　I'm　sure　I　should　laugh　outright　when　the　thought　first　came。〃

〃I　agree　with　Miss　Beaumont；〃　said　Sir　Walter；　suddenly　exploding　with　indignation。　〃If　I　had　thought　of　anything　so　futile；　I　should　find　it　difficult　to　keep　my　countenance。〃

〃Difficult　to　keep　your　countenance；〃　cried　Mr　Wimpole；　with　an　air　of　alarm；　〃oh；　do　keep　your　countenance！　Keep　it　in　the　British　Museum。〃

Every　one　laughed　uproariously；　as　they　always　do　at　an　already　admitted　readiness；　and　Sir　Walter；　turning　suddenly　purple；　shouted　out：

〃Do　you　know　who　you　are　talking　to；　with　your　confounded　tomfooleries？〃

〃I　never　talk　tomfooleries；〃　said　the　other；　〃without　first　knowing　my　audience。〃

Grant　walked　across　the　room　and　tapped　the　red…moustached　secretary　on　the　shoulder。　That　gentleman　was　leaning　against　the　wall　regarding　the　whole　scene　with　a　great　deal　of　gloom；　but；　I　fancied；　with　very　particular　gloom　when　his　eyes　fell　on　the　young　lady　of　the　house　rapturously　listening　to　Wimpole。

〃May　I　have　a　word　with　you　outside；　Drummond？〃　asked　Grant。　〃It　is　about　business。　Lady　Beaumont　will　excuse　us。〃

I　followed　my　friend；　at　his　own　request；　greatly　wondering；　to　this　strange　external　interview。　We　passed　abruptly　into　a　kind　of　side　room　out　of　the　hall。

〃Drummond；〃　said　Basil　sharply；　〃there　are　a　great　many　good　people；　and　a　great　many　sane　people　here　this　afternoon。　Unfortunately；　by　a　kind　of　coincidence；　all　the　good　people　are　mad；　and　all　the　sane　people　are　wicked。　You　are　the　only　person　I　know　of　here　who　is　honest　and　has　also　some　common　sense。　What　do　you　make　of　Wimpole？〃

Mr　Secretary　Drummond　had　a　pale　face　and　red　hair；　but　at　this　his　face　became　suddenly　as　red　as　his　moustache。

〃I　am　not　a　fair　judge　of　him；〃　he　said。

〃Why　not？〃　asked　Grant。

〃Because　I　hate　him　like　hell；〃　said　the　other；　after　a　long　pause　and　violently。

Neither　Grant　nor　I　needed　to　ask　the　reason；　his　glances　towards　Miss　Beaumont　and　the　stranger　were　sufficiently　illuminating。　Grant　said　quietly：

〃But　beforebefore　you　came　to　hate　him；　what　did　you　really　think　of　him？〃

〃I　am　in　a　terrible　difficulty；〃　said　the　young　man；　and　his　voice　told　us；　like　a　clear　bell；　that　he　was　an　honest　man。　〃If　I　spoke　about　him　as　I　feel　about　him　now；　I　could　not　trust　myself。　And　I　should　like　to　be　able　to　say　that　when　I　first　saw　him　I　thought　he　was　charming。　But　again；　the　fact　is　I　didn't。　I　hate　him；　that　is　my　private　affair。　But　I　also　disapprove　of　himreally　I　do　believe　I　disapprove　of　him　quite　apart　from　my　private　feelings。　When　first　he　came；　I　admit　he　was　much　quieter；　but　I　did　not　like；　so　to　speak；　the　moral　swell　of　him。　Then　that　jolly　old　Sir　Walter　Cholmondeliegh　got　introduced　to　us；　and　this　fellow；　with　his　cheap…jack　wit；　began　to　score　off　the　old　man　in　the　way　he　does　now。　Then　I　felt　that　he　must　be　a　bad　lot；　it　must　be　bad　to　fight　the　old　and　the　kindly。　And　he　fights　the　poor　old　chap　savagely；　unceasingly；　as　if　he　hated　old　age　and　kindliness。　Take；　if　you　want　it；　the　evidence　of　a　prejudiced　witness。　I　admit　that　I　hate　the　man　because　a　certain　person　admires　him。　But　I　believe　that　apart　from　that　I　should　hate　the　man　because　old　Sir　Walter　hates　him。〃

This　speech　affected　me　with　a　genuine　sense　of　esteem　and　pity　for　the　young　man；　that　is；　of　pity　for　him　because　of　his　obviously　hopeless　worship　of　Miss　Beaumont；　and　of　esteem　for　him　because　of　the　direct　realistic　account　of　the　history　of　Wimpole　which　he　had　given。　Still；　I　was　sorry　that　he　seemed　so　steadily　set　against　the　man；　and　could　not　help　referring　it　to　an　instinct　of　his　personal　relations；　however　nobly　disguised　from　himself。

In　the　middle　of　these　meditations；　Grant　whispered　in　my　ear　what　was　perhaps　the　most　startling　of　all　interruptions。

〃In　the　name　of　God；　let's　get　away。〃

I　have　never　known　exactly　in　how　odd　a　way　this　odd　old　man　affected　me。　I　only　know　that　for　some　reason　or　other　he　so　affected　me　that　I　was；　within　a　few　minutes；　in　the　street　outside。

〃This；〃　he　said；　〃is　a　beastly　but　amusing　affair。〃

〃What　is？〃　I　asked；　baldly　enough。

〃This　affair。　Listen　to　me；　my　old　friend。　Lord　and　Lady　Beaumont　have　just　invited　you　and　me　to　a　grand　dinner…party　this　very　night；　at　which　Mr　Wimpole　will　be　in　all　his　glory。　Well；　there　is　nothing　very　extraordinary　about　that。　The　extraordinary　thing　is　that　we　are　not　going。〃

〃Well；　really；〃　I　said；　〃it　is　already　six　o'clock　and　I　doubt　if　we　could　get　home　and　dress。　I　see　nothing　extraordinary　in　the　fact　that　we　are　not　going。〃

〃Don't　you？〃　said　Grant。　〃I'll　bet　you'll　see　something　extraordinary　in　what　we're　doing　instead。〃

I　looked　at　him　blankly。

〃Doing　instead？〃　I　asked。　〃What　are　we　doing　instead？〃

〃Why；〃　said　he；　〃we　are　waiting　for　one　or　two　hours　outside　this　house　on　a　winter　evening。　You　must　forgive　me；　it　is　all　my　vanity。　It　is　only　to　show　you　that　I　am　right。　Can　you；　with　the　assistance　of　this　cigar；　wait　until　both　Sir　Walter　Cholmondeliegh　and　the　mystic　Wimpole　have　left　this　house？〃

〃Certainly；〃　I　said。　〃But　I　do　not　know　which　is　likely　to　leave　first。　Have　you　any　notion？〃

〃No；〃　he　said。　〃Sir　Walter　may　leave　first　in　a　glow　of　rage。　Or　again；　Mr　Wimpole　may　leave　first；　feeling　that　his　last　epigram　is　a　thing　to　be　flung　behind　him　like　a　firework。　And　Sir　Walter　may　remain　some　time　to　analyse　Mr　Wimpole's　character。　But　they　will　both　have　to　leave　within　reasonable　time；　for　they　will　both　have　to　get　dressed　and　come　back　to　dinner　here　tonight。〃

As　he　spoke　the　shrill　double　whistle　from　the　porch　of　the　great　house　drew　a　dark　cab　to　the　dark　portal。　And　then　a　thing　happened　that　we　really　had　not　expected。　Mr　Wimpole　and　Sir　Walter　Cholmondeliegh　came　out　at　the　same　moment。

They　paused　for　a　second　or　two　opposite　each　other　in　a　natural　doubt；　then　a　certain　geniality；　fundamental　perhaps　in　both　of　them；　made　Sir　Walter　smile　and　say：　〃The　night　is　foggy。　Pray　take　my　cab。〃

Before　I　could　count　twenty　the　cab　had　gone　rattling　up　the　street　with　both　of　them。　And　before　I　could　count　twenty…three　Grant　had　hissed　in　my　ear：

〃Run　after　the　cab；　run　as　if　you　were　running　from　a　mad　dog　run。〃

We　pelted　on　steadily；　keeping　the　cab　in　sight；　through　dark　mazy　streets。　God　only；　I　thought；　knows　why　we　are　running　at　all；　but　we　are　running　hard。　Fortunately