CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
THE COUNTERSTROKE.
The scene is the Restaurant International, a palatial house ofrefreshment in Regent Street; the time half-past one. At a table inthe corner of the Grand Salle a Manger, set in a position calculatedto extract full value from the efforts of a powerful orchestra, awaiter of majestic mien, with a powdered head, and a gold tassel onhis left shoulder, stands towering over two recently arrived patronswith the _menu_.
The patrons, incredible as it may appear, are Stephen Blasius Verekerand Veronica Elizabeth Vereker. Stiffy, in the gala dress of aschoolboy of eighteen, is perspiring freely under the gaze of theoverpowering menial at his elbow; Nicky, in a new hat of colossal butcorrect dimensions (the gift of her eldest sister), with her hairgathered into the usual _ne plus ultra_ of the "flapper,"--aconstricted pigtail tied with a large black bow of ribbon,--isentirely unruffled.
How they got there will appear presently.
"Will you lunch _a la carte_ or _table d'hote_, sir?" inquired thewaiter, much as an executioner might say--"Will you be drawn orquartered?"
The flustered Stiffy gazed helplessly at his sister.
"He means, will you pay for what you eat or eat what you pay for,dear," explained that experienced and resourceful young person. "Youmust excuse him," she added, turning her round and trustful orbs uponthe waiter. "He is not accustomed to being given a choice of dishes."
The waiter, realising that here was a worthy opponent, maintained acountenance of wood and repeated the question.
"You had better give _me_ the _menu_," said Miss Vereker. "How much isthe _table d'hote_ lunch?"
"Four shillings, madam."
Madam mused.
"Let me see," she said thoughtfully. "Can we run to it, dear?"
"Of course!" said Stiffy in an undertone, reddening with shame. "Youknow Daphne gave me----"
Nicky smiled joyfully.
"So she did. I had forgotten. Two and nine, wasn't it?"
Stiffy, with a five-pound-note crackling in his pocket, merely gaped.
"Then," continued Nicky, calculating on her fingers, "there is thethree and a penny which we got out of the missionary-box. That makesfive and tenpence. And there is that shilling that slipped down intoyour boot, Stiffy. You can easily get under the table and take it off.Six and tenpence. I have elevenpence in stamps, and that, with thethreepenny-bit we picked up off the floor of the bus, makes eightshillings. We can just do it. Thank you," she intimated to the waiterwith a seraphic smile--"we will take _table d'hote_. I suppose," sheadded wistfully, "there would be no reduction if I took my little boyon my knee?"
"None, madam."
And the waiter, still unshaken, departed to bring the _horsd'oeuvres_.
"Nicky, don't play the goat!" urged the respectable Stephen in a lowand agitated voice. "That blighter really _believes_ we are going topay him in stamps. We shall get flung out, for a cert!"
"It's all right," said Nicky. "I am only going to try and make himlaugh."
"You'll fail," said her brother with conviction.
At this moment a mighty tray, covered with such inducements toappetite as anchovies, sliced tomatoes, sardines, radishes, choppedcelery, Strasburg sausage, _et hoc genus omne_--all equallysuperfluous in the case of a schoolboy up in town on an _exeat_--waslaid before him with a stately flourish. Then the waiter came stifflyand grimly to attention, and stood obviously expectant. _Horsd'oeuvres_ are rather puzzling things. Here was a chance for the tyrosbefore him to show their mettle.
They showed it.
"One gets tired of these everlasting things," mused Nicky wearily."I'll just peck at one or two. You can fetch the soup, waiter: weshall be ready for it immediately."
"Thick or clear soup, madam?"
"We'll have thick to begin with, please: then clear," replied Nickycalmly. "Stiffy, I will take an anchovy."
The waiter was not more than two minutes absent, but ere he returned alightning transformation scene had been enacted.
Certainly the Briton, with all his faults, surpasses the foreigner inthe control of the emotions. What a Gaul or a Teuton would have doneon witnessing the sight which met the eyes of the imperturbableGanymede of the Restaurant International when he returned with thethick soup, it is difficult to say. The first would probably havewept, the second have sent for a policeman. For lo! the richly dight_hors d'oeuvres_ tray had become a solitude--the component partsthereof were duly discovered by the charwoman next morning amid thefoliage of an adjacent palm--and the tail of the last radish wasdisappearing into Stiffy's mouth. Stiffy, once roused, made anexcellent accomplice, though he had no initiative of his own.
The waiter's face twitched ever so slightly, and there was anundulating movement in the region of his scarlet waistcoat. But herecovered himself in time, and having served the thick soup, departedunbidden in search of the clear.
"Nicky," said Stiffy in a concerned voice, "are we really going tohave everything on the _menu_?"
"You are, my son," replied Nicky. "I, being a lady, will make use ofthis palm-tub."
The waiter brought the clear soup, and asked for instructions withregard to the fish.
"What sort of fish have you?"
The man proffered the card.
"_Sole: Sauce Tartare._ That means sole with tartar sauce," Nickytranslated glibly for the benefit of her untutored relative. "We hadbetter not have that. Tartar sauce always makes him sick," sheexplained to the waiter, indicating the fermenting Stiffy. "What elseis there? Let me see--ah! _Blanchailles!_--er--_Blanchailles!_ A verydelicate fish! Quite so. You may bring us"--her brain workeddesperately behind a smiling face, but fruitlessly--"a _blanchaille_,waiter."
There was an ominous silence. Then the waiter asked, in a voicetinged with polite incredulity--
"A _whole_ one each, madam?"
"Certainly," said madam in freezing tones.
The waiter bowed deferentially, and departed.
"Stiffy," inquired Nicky in agonised tones, "what _is_ a_blanchaille?_ Don't say it's a cod!"
Stiffy devoted three hours a-week to the study of Modern Languages,but so far no _blanchaille_ has swum into his vocabulary.
"I've a notion," he said after a prolonged mental effort, "that it isa sturgeon."
"How big is a sturgeon?"
"It's about the size of a shark, I think."
"Mercy! And we have ordered a whole one each!"
But their capacity was not to be taxed after all. The waiter returned,and with the nonchalant demeanour of a hardened clubman playing out anunexpected ace of trumps, laid down two plates. In the centre of eachreposed a single forlorn diminutive whitebait.
But it was here that Veronica Elizabeth Vereker rose to her greatestheights. She inspected her own portion and then her brother's.
"Waiter," she said at last, "will you kindly take away this younggentleman's fish and ask the cook to give you a rather longer one?About three-quarters of an inch, I should say. The child"--indicatingher hirsute and crimson senior--"gets very peevish and fretful if hisportion is smaller than any one else's."
Without a word the waiter picked up Stiffy's plate and bore it away.His broad back had become slightly bowed, and his finely chiselledlegs had a warped and bandy appearance. The strain was telling.
Stiffy gazed upon his sister in rapt admiration.
"Nicky, you _ripper_!" he said.
After this it was mere child's play to request a stout gentleman witha chain round his neck to submit the wine list--an imposing volume ofmany pages--and after a heated and highly technical discussion on therespective merits of Pommery and Cliquot, to order one stone-gingerand two glasses.
Nicky next instructed the waiter to present her compliments to theleader of the band, and to request as a special favour that he and hiscolleagues would oblige with a rendering of _Shall We Gather at theRiver?_ The waiter returned with a reply to the effect that the _chefd'orchestre_ would be delighted. Unfortunately he had not the fullscore by him at the moment, but had s
ent along to the Cafe Royal toborrow a copy. Everything would be in readiness about tea-time. It wasthen a little after two, and it was admitted by both Nicky and Stiffythat honours on this occasion were divided.
So far both sides, as the umpires say on Territorial field-days, hadacquitted themselves in a manner deserving great credit; but thewaiter scored the odd and winning trick a little later, in aparticularly subtle manner. Age and experience always tell. Nicky,unduly inflated by early success, insisted upon Stiffy ordering aliqueur with his coffee. Green Chartreuse was finally selected andbrought.
"Shall I pour it into your coffee, sir?" asked the waiterrespectfully.
"Please," said the unsuspecting Stiffy.
The man obeyed, and directly afterwards emitted a sound which causedboth children to glance up suddenly. They glared suspiciously, firstat one another, then at the back of the retreating foe.
"Do people drink Green Chartreuse _in_ their coffee?" asked Nickyapprehensively.
"I don't know," said Stiffy. He tasted the compound. "No, I'm _blowed_if they do! Nicky, we've been had. He's one up!"
"It would score him off," replied the undefeated Nicky, "if you couldmanage to be sick."
But Stiffy held out no hope of this happy retaliation; and theyultimately produced the five-pound note and paid the score withsomewhat chastened mien, adding a _douceur_ which was as excessive asit was unnecessary. Waiters do not get much entertainment out ofserving meals as a rule.
II.
"Now we must meet Daphne," said Stiffy, as they left the restaurantand hailed a cab.
They were in town for an all-too-brief sojourn of twenty-four hours,to assist at the inspection of Daphne's new house. It was nowFebruary, and Lady Carr had not seen her husband since the eruption atBelton last summer. Juggernaut had made no attempt to prevent hergoing home, and when she wrote later, requesting that Master BrianVereker Carr might be sent to her, had despatched him withoutremonstrance. No one save Cilly and her beloved Godfrey--least of allthe Rector--knew of the true state of affairs; and all during thatautumn and winter Daphne was happier in a fashion than she had everbeen. To a large extent she resumed command of the household, settingCilly free for other very right and natural diversions; and a sort of_edition de luxe_ of the old days came into being, with first-handfood at every meal and a boy to clean the boots and drive the pony.
Daphne was entirely impervious to the gravity of the situation. Thereare certain women who are curiously wanting in all sense ofresponsibility. They preserve the child's lack of perspective andproportion even after they grow up, and the consequences are sometimesdisastrous. If love arrives upon the scene no further harm ensues, forthe missing qualities spring up, with that Jonah's-gourd-likesuddenness which characterises so many feminine developments, at thefirst touch of the great magician's wand. The retarded facultiesachieve maturity in a flash, and their owner becomes maternal,solicitous, Martha-like; and all is well.
Daphne was one of these women; but so far, unfortunately, she hadfailed to fall in love. Her marriage had never really touched her. Herhusband had vibrated many strings in her responsive impulsive youngheart--gratitude, affection, admiration,--but the great harmoniouscombination, the master-chord, had yet to be struck. Consequently shesaw nothing unusual in living apart from her husband, financing herfamily with his money, and enjoying herself with friends whom he didnot know.
Early in the year, however, it occurred to her that it would bepleasant to go home again for a time. Her elastic nature had entirelyrecovered from the stress of last summer's crisis, and she was franklyconsumed with curiosity on the subject of the new house in BerkeleySquare--and said so. It was perhaps an unfortunate reason for a wifeto give for wishing to return to her husband, but this did not occurto her at the time. She received a brief note in reply, saying thatthe furnishing and decorating were now practically completed, and thehouse was ready for her inspection any time she cared to come up totown. Hence this joyous expedition.
Daphne had half expected to find her husband waiting for her at thehouse, for the Parliamentary recess was over and she knew he wasalmost certain to be in town. Instead, she was received by anoverwhelmingly polite individual named Hibbins, from thehouse-furnishers. Mr Hibbins' appearance and deportment proved a soretrial to the composure of Nicky, who exploded at frequent andunexpected intervals throughout the afternoon, lamely alleging thefantastic design of some very ordinary wallpaper or the shortness ofStiffy's Sunday trousers in excuse.
It was essentially a masculine house, furnished in accordance with theman's ideas of solidity and comfort. The high oak panelling anddark-green frieze in the dining-room pleased Daphne, who recognisedthat glass and silver, well-illuminated, would show up bravely in sucha setting. The drawing-room was perhaps a little too severe in itsscheme of decoration: Daphne would have preferred something morefeminine. "But that comes," she reflected characteristically, "ofleaving the declaration to your partner!" There was a billiard-room inwhich Nicky declared it would be a sin to place a billiard-table, soperfectly was it adapted for waltzing after dinner.
Opening out of the billiard-room was a plainly furnished butattractive little set of apartments--"the bachelor suite" Mr Hibbinsdesignated it--consisting of a snug study with an apartment adjoining,containing a small camp-bed and a large bath. Daphne's own roomsconsisted of a bedroom and boudoir on the first floor, with widebow-windows.
The nursery came last. It was a large irregular-shaped room at the topof the house, full of unexpected corners and curious alcoves such aschildren love, affording convenient caves for robbers and eligiblelairs for wild beasts, fabulous or authentic. In addition to theregulation nursery furniture there was a miniature set, ingreen-stained wood--a table barely eighteen inches high, a tinyarm-chair, and a pigmy sofa upon which Master Brian's friends mightrecline when they came to drink tea, or its equivalent. Round thewhole room ran a brightly coloured dado covered with life-size figuresof all the people we love when we are young--Jack the Giant-Killer,Old King Cole, Cinderella, and the Three Bears. Even Peter Pan, withresidence and following, was there. The spectacle of Doctor Johnsontaking a walk down Fleet Street would pale to insignificance comparedwith that of Master Brian Vereker Carr enjoying a constitutional alonghis own dado, encountering a new friend round every corner.
Daphne suddenly realised that here was yet another aspect of thisstrange, impenetrable husband of hers. The room in its way was a workof genius--the genius that understands children.
As they departed to catch the afternoon train to Snayling theobsequious Mr Hibbins produced a letter.
Sir John Carr, he explained, had called at the head office of theirfirm that morning--in _person_, Mr Hibbins added with a gratifiedsmile--and requested that this letter should be handed to her ladyshipin the afternoon. Sir John had also instructed Mr Hibbins to informher ladyship that any improvements or alterations which she desiredhad only to be mentioned to be carried out.
Mr Hibbins having handed them into a cab and bidden them an unctuousfarewell, they drove away to the station, Nicky atoning for previousaloofness by hanging out of the window and waving her handkerchiefuntil they turned the corner.
III.
The journey from London to Snayling, involving as it does a run offorty miles by main line, a wait of indefinite duration at ajunction furnished with no other facilities for recreation than aweighing-machine and a printed and detailed record of the fate whichawaits persons who compass the awe-inspiring but cumbrous crime oftravelling-by-a-class-superior-to-that-to-which-the-ticket-in-their-possession-entitles-them, and concluding with an interminable crawlalong a branch line, is not at first sight an enterprise that promisesmuch joyous adventure; but Nicky and Stiffy, who usually contrived tokeep _ennui_ at arm's-length, had a very tolerable time of it.
Their efforts at first were directed to securing an apartment tothemselves--an achievement which, when you come to think of it, fairlyepitomises the Englishman's outlook on life in general.
"Hang your face out o
f the window, Stiffy, my lad," commanded Nicky,returning from an unsuccessful attempt to wheedle the guard intolabelling their carriage "engaged," "and play at Horatius Cocles tillthe train starts. That ought to do the trick."
But no. At the last moment a crusty-looking old gentleman wrenched thedoor open, nearly precipitating Horatius Cocles (and face) on to theplatform, and sat down with great determination in the corner seat. Heglared ferociously at the demure-looking pair before him, in a mannerwhich intimated plainly that he was too old a customer to be kept outof his usual compartment by tricks of _that_ kind. After this heproduced _The Westminster Gazette_ from a handbag and began to readit.
Nicky gave him five minutes. Then, turning to her brother andscrutinising his freckled countenance, she observed in clear andmeasured tones--
"I think they have let you out rather _soon_, John."
Stiffy, realising that he was the person addressed and that some freshgame was afoot, looked as intelligent as possible, and waited. Daphne,in the far corner of the carriage, hurriedly opened her husband'sletter and began to read it.
"The marks aren't all gone yet," continued Nicky, inspecting herbrother anxiously. "Are you still peeling?"
"Yes--I think so," said Stiffy, groping for his cue.
"Ah!" Nicky nodded her head judicially. "We must give you a carbolicbath when we get you home."
_The Westminster Gazette_ emitted a perceptible crackle.
"It will never do," pursued Nicky, getting into her stride, "to haveyou disfigured for life."
Stiffy, who was impervious to all reflections upon his personalappearance, grinned faintly. Opposite, a scared and bulging eye slidcautiously round the edge of _The Westminster Gazette_, and embarkedupon a minute and apprehensive inspection of the plague-strickenyouth. Nicky saw, and thrilled with gratification. She was on thepoint of continuing when the train dived into a tunnel. Having nodesire that her schemes should go awry in the din, she waited.
The train came to a sudden and unexplained stop. Deathlike silencereigned, broken only by murmurs of conversation from next door.Presently in the gross darkness Nicky's voice was once more uplifted.
"By the way, is it infectious, or merely _contagious_? I meant to askwhen I called for you at the Institute"--she was rather proud of thatinspiration: an Institute sounded more terrifying and mysterious thana Hospital--"but in the excitement of that last fainting-fit of yoursI forgot. Which is it?"
"Both, I think," said Stiffy, anxious to help.
"Ah! I feared as much. Still, things might be worse," commented Nickyphilosophically. "So many of these complaints are infectious in theearly stages, when no one suspects any trouble. Mumps, for instance,or scarlet fever. But others, like yours, are only dangerous in theconvalescent stage, and then of course one knows exactly where oneis."
There was a crumpling of paper in the darkness, accompanied by ashuffling of feet and a vibratory motion of the seat-cushions--allindicative of the presence of one who knows exactly where _he_ is, andregrets the fact exceedingly.
"The air is very close in here," resumed Nicky's voice. "I wonder----"she whispered a sentence into Stiffy's ear, the only distinguishableword in which was "germs." "Of course, I have _had_ it--slightly," sheadded in a relieved tone.
Something moved again in the darkness opposite to them, and then camea sound as of a window being cautiously slid open.
"Still, I _think_," replied Stiffy solicitously--as usual he waswarming up to the game slowly but surely--"that it would be wiser foryou to keep your mouth closed and breathe through your nose. Onecannot be too careful."
"All right," said Nicky.
Once again silence reigned. But presently there fell upon the ears ofthe conspirators, rendered almost incredulous by joy, an unmistakableand stertorous sound, as of some heavy and asthmatic body taking inair through unaccustomed channels.
Five minutes later the train, groaning arthritically, resumed its wayand crawled out of the tunnel into a station. Nicky and Stiffy,blinking in the sudden daylight, beheld the reward of their labours. Acorpulent and rapidly ageing citizen, shrinking apprehensively into acorner of the compartment and holding a small handbag upon his kneesas if with a view to instant departure, sat glaring malignantly uponthem. His face was mottled, his mouth was firmly closed, and hebreathed perseveringly through his nostrils.
Next moment he had flung open the door and was out upon the platform,inhaling great gulps of vernal air and looking for the station-master.
"Stiffy, you darling! I'll never call you a fat-head again!" declaredNicky, enthusiastically embracing her complacent accomplice. "Thatnotion of yours was simply _It!_ Daph, wasn't it splen--Hallo! Blessme, Stiffy, if Daph isn't breathing through her nose too! Look!"
Certainly Daphne's lips were tightly compressed, but she turned to hercompanions and smiled faintly.
"It's all right, kids," she said; "I think this carriage is overheatedor something. I shall be all right in a minute. Keep that window open,Stiffy dear."
She was very white, but on emphatically declining Nicky's offer offirst aid she was left to herself, while her brother and sisterdiscussed the course to be followed in the event of another invasionof the carriage. Like true artists, they scorned to achieve the sameeffect by the same means twice running.
Meanwhile Daphne re-read her husband's letter.
"... I have waited six months, and as you display no inclination to look facts in the face, I am compelled to take the initiative myself. As far as I can gather from your attitude, you seem to consider that things are very well as they are. On this point I beg to differ from you. The present situation must _end_. We must either come together again or part for good on some definitely arranged terms.
"... As you have exhibited no desire to reconcile yourself to me--your letter indicates that your sole object in returning home is to play with your latest toy, the new house--I conclude that you wish to remain your own mistress. I therefore place the new house entirely at your disposal. You can draw money as you require it from Coutts', and I will see to it that there is always an adequate balance. I think, if you have no objection, that it would be as well if I occasionally came to the house, and occupied the bachelor suite off the billiard-room; but I shall come and go without troubling you. We ought to make this concession to appearances.
"I should not like your father, for instance, to be made unhappy by the knowledge that his daughter and her husband found it better to go their several ways.
"... As for the custody of the boy----"
A long, slow shudder rippled down Daphne's spine. Custody! There was ahorrible legal, end-of-all-things, divorce-court flavour about theword.
"I think it would be a good scheme, Stiffy dear," broke in Nicky'scheerful voice, "for you to pretend this time that you have just beendischarged from an asylum. I will be taking you home, and ..." Hervoice faded.
"... You will naturally like to have him with you while he is a mere child. I will therefore leave him in your hands for the present. Later, when he goes to a public school and University, I think I should like him to be with me during his holidays. When he grows up altogether, he must please himself about----."
Public School! University! Daphne turned sick and faint. Were theprovisions of this merciless letter to cover all eternity? What hadshe done to deserve this?
"It would be a bright thought," continued Nicky's voice, returningfrom a great distance, "to roll up your handkerchief into a ball andput it right into your mouth. Then do something to attract theirattention, and when they are all looking, pull it right out with ajerk, and mop and mow. _Can_ you mop and mow, Stiffy? Mop, anyhow!Just before a station, you know, so that they can get out. If thatdoesn't work, roll about on the cushions, and----."
Daphne detached her gaze from the flying landscape, and finished theletter.
"Forgive me if I appear to have resorted to extreme or harsh mea
sures. I suppose I am a hard man: at any rate, I am not pliable. I dare say if I had been differently built I might have played the part of the modern husband with fair success, and you could have picked your companions at will. Unfortunately, I would rather die than permit you to impose such a _regime_ upon me, as you seem prepared to do. The thing is degrading. To my mind there can be no compromise, no half-measures, between man and wife. It must be all in all, or not at all....
"Lastly, Daphne, let me say how sorry I am that things have come to this pass. I realise that it is my fault. I should not have asked a young and inexperienced girl to marry me. You could not be expected to know better: I might and should. And it is because I realise and admit that the fault is mine, that I refrain from attaching any blame to you or uttering any reproaches. All I can do is to say that I am sorry, and make it possible for you to go your way, unhampered as far as may be by the ties of a marriage which should never have taken place.
"If I can at any time be of service to you, command me. I can never forget that we have had our happy hours together."
Daphne folded up the letter with mechanical deliberation. The firstnumbness was over. Her brain was clear again, and thoughts werecrowding in upon her. But two things overtopped all the others for themoment.
The first was the realisation of the truth of her husband's words. Theold situation _had_ been impossible--as impossible as the new one wasinevitable. She saw that--at last. "All in all, or not at all," he hadsaid, and he was right.
The second was a sudden awakening to the knowledge that we never beginreally to want a thing in this world until we find we cannot have it.