CHAPTER IX
THE ONLY WAY OUT
The ladies, pleading fatigue after their long day, retired early,bringing a somewhat oppressive evening to a timely conclusion. Dinnerhad been a constrained function, for Miss Beverley's aloofness had casta gloom upon the spirits of her _fiance_, and the rest of us had joinedwith him in a sort of sympathetic melancholy. In the drawing-roomafterwards Mr. Crick, whose ebullient soul chafed beneath what he termed"compulsory hump," sat down at the piano and treated us to a musicalsketch,--something humorous but lingering. Whereupon Lady Adela awokeout of her sleep, and with a disregard for the performer's feeling thatwas almost indecent, cut short the entertainment and shepherded herflock to the upper regions.
The four gentlemen adjourned to the billiard-room. Here Mr. Mainwaringand Crick set about a game of billiards--fifty up--at which the latter,with a loftiness of spirit which his subsequent performance entirelyfailed to justify, insisted upon conceding his elderly opponenttwenty-five points. Aided by this generous subsidy and by the fact thatthe scratch player, in bringing off some delicate long shots into thetop pocket, more than once omitted the formality of glancing off one ofthe other balls on the way, our host made quite surprising progress.His own contributions to the score were mainly derived from a monotonousbut profitable system of potting the white and leaving his opponent adouble balk. Indeed, the old gentleman reached his points before Mr.Crick had accomplished a feat vaguely described by himself as "gettingthe strength of the table." Mr. Mainwaring then trotted happilyupstairs to bed, followed very shortly afterwards by his highly incensedplay-fellow.
As the door closed, Dicky put down his pipe and turned to me.
"Bill, old man," he said, "I don't often face facts; but this time Iadmit that I have fairly torn the end off things."
"You are in disgrace, my boy," I agreed. "What are you going to do aboutit?"
Dicky pondered, and finally summed up.
"The fact is," he said, "I am not up to Hilda's standard, and nevershall be."
I rose, and took my stand upon that tribunal beloved of the Briton--thehearthrug--and looked down upon my friend's troubled countenance.
"Dicky," I began, having blown my nose nervously, "you and I don'tusually go deeply into these matters together; but--do you love thatgirl?"
We two regarded one another deliberately for a minute, and then Dickyshook his head.
"I do not," he said at last. "Not more, that is, than I love half adozen others. I suppose the truth is," he continued, relighting hispipe, "that I don't quite realise the meaning of the word--yet. Someday, perhaps, the big thing will come to me; but until it does and wipesout everything else, I shall go on imagining, as at present, that I amin love with every girl who happens to attract me or whom I happen toattract--if such a thing is possible. Nature, I suppose--just Nature!Just now I am making the instinctive involuntary experiments that everyman must make, and go on making, until he encounters his right mate.Some men, I imagine, are luckier than others. They are not inflammable.They do not make false starts or get down blind alleys. I believe youare one, Tiny, but there are not many. With women, I believe, it isdifferent. They have more intuition than men, and can tell almostimmediately whether they have found the goods this time or not. But theaverage man must just go blundering on, making an ass of himself, andlearning by experience. I fall into love readily enough, but have neverbeen able to stay there. That is my trouble. I am therefore forced tothe conclusion that I have never really been in love at all."
"That is because you have never met _the_ girl, Freak."
"Possibly; but there is another explanation, and that is that I amincapable of a sustained affection under any circumstances whatever.However, you may take it from me that such is not the case. I _know_that. I can't explain it or prove it, but I know it. What I reallywant--but I have n't met one so far--is a girl who will fall in lovewith me, and _show_ it--show that she is willing to burn her boats forme. A good many young women, estimable creatures, have indicated thatthey care for me a little, but not one has done it in the way I havedescribed. I don't believe that I could ever really throw myselfabsolutely headlong into love with a girl unless I knew in my heart thatshe was prepared to do the same for me. They are all so cautious, soself-contained, so blooming independent, nowadays, that a man simplycannot let himself go on one of them for fear she should turn round andlaugh at him. But if a girl once confided to me that she wanted toentrust herself to me--body and soul, for better, for worse, and soon--without any present-day stipulations about maintaining herindependence and preserving her individuality, and stuff of thatkind--well, good-bye to all indecision or uncertainty on my part! Whatman who called himself a man could resist such an appeal as that--agenuine whole-hearted appeal from weakness to strength? (Not that I amexactly a model of strength," he commented, with a disarming smile; "butI know I soon should be, if such an honour were done me.) Weakness tostrength! That's what it comes to in the end, old man, whatever themodern advanced female may say. Male and female created He them--eh?When I do meet that girl--perhaps she is the girl the old gipsy foretoldfor me to-day--I shall love her, and slave for her, and fight for her,so long as we both live, just because she is so utterly dependent on me.That is what brings out the best in a man. Unfortunately, I have notyet met her. When I do you may take it from me that I shall cease to bea Freak. Amen! Here endeth the First Lesson. There will be nocollection."
His discourse thus characteristically concluded, my friend sat silentand pensive.
This was quite a new Dicky to me.
"You appear to have studied the question deeply and scientifically," Isaid, frankly impressed.
"My lad," replied Dicky with feeling, "if you possessed a disposition asflighty as mine--"
"Quixotic," I amended.
"All right--as quixotic as mine, and were also blessed with a dear oldmother who spent her life confronting you with attractive young womenwith a view to matrimony, you would begin to study the question deeplyand scientifically too. I am only a Freak, and all that, but I don'twant to make a mess of a girl's life if I can help it; and that, oldfriend, owing to my susceptible nature and gentle maternal pressure fromthe rear, is exactly what I am in great danger of doing. I have had tomark time pretty resolutely of late, I can tell you. And that brings usto the matter in hand. Hilda and I seem to have reached the end of ourtether. Something has got to be done."
"It is just possible," I said, "that Miss Beverley has done it already."
"What?"
"It--the only thing that ought to be done."
"What do you mean?"
"When the others went upstairs to bed Miss Hilda retired into an innerdrawing-room and sat down at a writing-table. There is no post out ofhere until lunch-time to-morrow. Therefore she was probably writing tosome one in the house."
Dicky nodded comprehendingly.
"Proceed, Sherlock," he said.
"To whom was she writing?" I enquired.
Dicky thought.
"To me," he announced at length. "Economical hobby. No stampsrequired. Well?"
"Supposing," I continued, "that Miss Beverley has been writing to youto-night--what then?"
"I shall receive a letter from her in the morning," concluded Dicky."Eh? Wrong answer? Sorry! What will happen, then?"
"You will get your letter to-night."
Dicky looked doubtful.
"Where? When?" he asked.
"That's it. Where and when?"
Dicky pondered.
"On my pin-cushion, when I go upstairs to bed," he said atlast--"although it strikes me as a most unmaidenly action for Hilda."
"So unmaidenly," I replied, "that you will probably find the letter onthe hall table by your candle. Come and see."
My faith in Miss Beverley's sense of propriety was fully justified, forwe found the letter in the hall beside the candlesticks exactly as I hadforetold. Probably it
had not lain there more than five minutes.
"What do you think of that?" I enquired.
"By Heavens, Holmes," exclaimed Dicky, who after his late lofty flighthad characteristically relapsed into one of his most imbecile moods,"this is wonderful!"
We bore the letter back to the billiard-room.
"Four sheets!" murmured The Freak dejectedly. "Well, the longer I lookat them the less I shall like them. Here goes!"
He began to unfold the crackling document.
"What is that protuberance down there, between your finger and thumb?" Ienquired. "It may epitomise the letter for you."
Dicky turned the envelope upside down, and shook it over thebilliard-table. Something fell out, rolled a short distance, and laysparkling and shimmering on the green cloth.
Dicky picked up the ring very slowly, and regarded it long and intently.Then he turned to me.
"Thank God!" he said, softly and quite reverently; and I knew he spokeless for himself than for a certain superior young woman upstairs, whoconsidered him flippant, lacking in depth, and altogether unworthy ofher.