CHAPTER XVI
TRANSFER OF MIMI
I
Mr. Prohack passed a very bad night--the worst for months, one of theoutstanding bad nights of his whole existence.
"Why didn't I have it out with Charlie before he left?" he asked himselfsome scores of times while listening to the tranquil regular breathingof Eve, who of course was now sure of her house and probably had quiteforgotten the meaning of care. "I'm bound to have it out with him sooneror later, and if I'd done it at once I should at any rate have slept.They're all sleeping but me."
He simply could not comprehend life; the confounded thing called lifebaffled him by its mysterious illogicalness. He was adored by hisspouse, beloved by his children, respected by the world. He had heaps ofmoney, together with the full control of it. His word, if he chose, waslaw. He had only to say: "I will not take the house in ManchesterSquare," and nobody could thwart him. He powerfully desired not to takeit. There was no sensible reason why he should take it. And yet he wouldtake it, under the inexplicable compulsion of circumstances. In thosesombre hours he had a fellow-feeling for Oriental tyrants, who wereabsolute autocrats but also slaves of exactly the same sinister forcethat had gripped himself. He perceived that in practice there is no suchthing as an autocrat....
Not that his defeat in regard to the house really disturbed him. Hecould reconcile himself to the house, despite the hateful complicationswhich it would engender. What disturbed him horribly was the drainsbusiness, the Doy and Doy business, the Mimi business; he could see noway out of that except through the valley of humiliation. He remembered,with terrible forebodings, the remark of his daughter after she heard ofthe heritage: "You'll never be as happy again."
When the household day began and the familiar comfortable distant noisesof domestic activity announced that the solar system was behaving muchas usual in infinite and inconceivable space, he decided that he wastoo tired to be scientifically idle that day--even though he had atrying-on appointment with Mr. Melchizidek. He decided, too, that hewould not get up, would in fact take everything lying down, would refuseto descend a single step of the stairs to meet trouble. And he had agreat wish to be irritated and angry. But, the place seemed to be fullof angels who turned the other cheek--and the other cheek wasmarvellously soft and bewitching.
Eve, Sissie (who had called), and Machin--they were all in a state offelicity, for the double reason that Sissie was engaged to be married,and that the household was to move into a noble mansion. Machin sawherself at the head of a troup of sub-parlourmaids and housemaids andtweenies, and foretold that she would stand no nonsense from butlers.They all treated Mr. Prohack as a formidable and worshipped tyrant,whose smile was the sun and whose frown death, and who was the fount ofwisdom and authority. They knew that he wanted to be irritated, and theygave him no chance to be irritated. Their insight into his psychologywas uncanny. They knew that he was beaten on the main point, and withtheir detestable feminine realism they exquisitely yielded on all theminor points. Eve, fresh as a rose, bent over him and bedewed him, andsaid that she was going out and that Sissie had gone again.
When he was alone he rang the bell for Machin as though the bell haddone him an injury.
"What time is it?"
"Eleven o'clock, sir."
"Eleven o'clock! Good God! Why hasn't Miss Warburton come?"
As if Machin was responsible for Miss Warburton!... No! Mr. Prohack wasnot behaving nicely, and it cannot be hidden that he lacked the grandeurof mind which distinguishes most of us.
"Miss Warburton was here before ten o'clock, sir."
"Then why hasn't she come up?"
"She was waiting for orders, sir."
"Send her up immediately."
"Certainly, sir."
Miss Warburton was the fourth angel--an angel with anotherspick-and-span blouse, and the light of devotion in her eyes and thesound of it in her purling voice.
"Good morning," the gruff brute started. "Did I hear the telephone-belljust now?"
"Yes, sir. Doy and Doy have telephoned to say that Mr. Charles Prohackhas just been in to see them, and they've referred him to you,and--and--"
"And what? And what? And what?" (A machine-gun.)
"They said he was extremely unpleasant."
Instinctively Mr. Prohack threw away shame. Mimi was his minion. Hetreated her as an Oriental tyrant might treat the mute guardian of theseraglio, and told her everything,--that Charlie had forestalled them inthe matter of the drains of the noble mansion, that Charlie haddetermined to destroy Doy and Doy, that he, Mr. Prohack, was caught in atrap, that there was the devil to pay, and that the finest lies thatingenuity could invent would have to be uttered. He abandoned allpretence of honesty and uprightness. Mimi showed no surprise whatever,nor was she apparently in the least shocked. She seemed to regard theaffair as a quite ordinary part of the day's routine. Her insensitivecalm frightened Mr. Prohack.
"Now we must think of something," said the iniquitous monster.
"I don't see that there need be any real difficulty," Mimi replied."_You_ didn't know anything about my plot with Doy and Doy. I got thenotion--quite wrongly--that you preferred not to have the house, and Iacted as I did through an excess of zeal. I must confess the plot. Ialone am to blame, and I admit that what I did was quite inexcusable."
"What a girl! What a girl!" thought Mr. Prohack. But there were limitsto his iniquity, and he said aloud, benevolently, grandiosely: "But Idid know about it. You as good as told me exactly what you meant to do,and I let you do it. I approved, and I am responsible. Nothing willinduce me to let you take the responsibility. Let that be clearlyunderstood, please."
He looked squarely at the girl, and watched with apprehension heraspiring nose rise still further, her delicate ruthless mouth becomestill more ruthless.
"Excuse me," she said. "My plan is the best. It's the obvious plan. Mr.Carrel Quire often adopted it. I'm afraid you're hesitating to trust meas I expect to be trusted. Please don't forget that you sacrificed anempire for me--I shall always remember that. And what's more, you saidyou expected from me absolute loyalty to your interests. I can standanything but not being trusted--_fully_!"
Mr. Prohack sank deeper into the bed, and laughed loudly, immoderately,titanically. His ill-humour vanished as a fog will vanish. Neverthelesshe was appalled by the revelation of the possibilities of the girl'scharacter.
The strange scene was interrupted by the arrival of Charlie, who, thanksto his hypnotic influence over Machin, came masterfully straightupstairs, entered the bedroom without asking permission to do so, and,in perfect indifference to the alleged frailty of his father's health,proceeded to business.
II
"Dad," said he, after Mimi had gone through her self-ordained martyrdomand left the room. "I wonder whether you quite realise what a top-holecreature that Warburton girl is. She's perfectly astounding."
"She is," Mr. Prohack admitted.
"She's got ideas."
"She has."
"And she isn't afraid of carrying them out."
"She is not."
"She's much too good for you, dad."
"She is."
"I mean, you can't really make full use of her, can you? She's got noscope here."
"She makes her own scope," said Mr. Prohack.
"Now I honestly do need a good secretary," Charlie at last unmasked hisattack. "I've got a temporary idiot, and I want a first-rater,preferably a woman. I wish you'd be decent and turn Miss Warburton overto me. She'd be invaluable to me, and with me she really _would_ havescope for her talents." Charlie laughed.
"What are you laughing at?"
"I was only thinking of her having the notion of queering the drainslike that because she wanted to please you. It was simply great. It'sthe best thing I ever heard." He laughed again. "Now, dad, will you turnher over to me?"
"You appear to think she's a slave to be bought and sold and this roomthe slave-market," said Mr. Prohack. "It hasn't occurred to you that_she_ might obj
ect to the transfer."
"Oh! I can soon persuade _her_." said Charlie, lightly.
"But you couldn't easily persuade me. And I may as well inform you atonce, my poor ingenuous boy, that I won't agree. I will never agree.Miss Warburton is necessary to my existence."
"All in two or three days, is she?" Charlie observed sarcastically.
"Yes."
"Well, father, as we're talking straight, let's talk straight. I'm goingto take her from you. It's a very little help I'm asking you for, andthat you should refuse is a bit thick. I shall speak to the mater."
"And what shall you say?"
"I shall tell her all about the plot against the new house. It wasreally a plot against her, because she wants the house--the house isnothing to me. I may believe that you knew nothing about the plotyourself, but I'll lay you any odds the mater won't."
"Speaking as man to man, my boy, I lay you any odds you can't put yourmother against me."
"Oh!" cried Charlie, "she won't _say_ she believes you're guilty, butshe'll believe it all the same. And it's what people think that matters,not what they say they think."
"That's wisdom," Mr. Prohack agreed. "I see that I brought you up not sobadly after all. But doesn't it strike you that you're trying toblackmail your father? I hope I taught you sagacity, but I neverencouraged you in blackmail--unless my memory fails me."
"You can call it by any name you please," said Charlie.
"Very well, then, I will. I'll call it blackmail. Give me a cigarette."He lit the offered cigarette. "Anything else this morning?"
Father and son smiled warily at one another. Both were amused and evenaffectionate, but serious in the battle.
"Come along, dad. Be a sport. Anyhow, let's ask the girl."
"Do you know what my answer to blackmail is?" Mr. Prohack blandlyenquired.
"No."
"My answer is the door. Drop the subject entirely. Or sling youradventurous book."
Mr. Prohack was somewhat startled to see Charlie walk straight out ofthe bedroom. A disturbing suspicion that there might be somethingincalculable in his son was rudely confirmed.
He said to himself: "But this is absurd."
III
That morning the Prohack bedroom seemed to be transformed into a sort ofpublic square. No sooner had Charlie so startlingly left than Machinentered again.
"Dr. Veiga, sir."
And Dr. Veiga came in. The friendship between Mr. Prohack and hispicturesque quack had progressed--so much so that Eve herself had begunto twit her husband with having lost his head about the doctor.Nevertheless Eve was privately very pleased with the situation, becauseit proved that she had been right and Mr. Prohack wrong concerning thequalities of the fat, untidy, ironic Portuguese. Mr. Prohack wasdelighted to see him, for an interview with Dr. Veiga always meant anunusual indulgence in the sweets of candour and realism.
"This is my wife's doing, no doubt," said Mr. Prohack, limply shakinghands.
"She called to see me, ostensibly about herself, but of course in factabout you. However, I thought she needed a tonic, and I'll write out theprescription while I'm here. Now what's the matter with you?"
"No!" Mr. Prohack burst out, "I'm hanged if I'll tell you. I'm not goingto do your work for you. Find out."
Dr. Veiga examined, physically and orally, and then said: "There'snothing at all the matter with you, my friend."
"That's just where you're mistaken," Mr. Prohack retorted. "There'ssomething rather serious the matter with me. I'm suffering from gravecomplications. Only you can't help me. My trouble is spiritual. Neitherpills nor tonics can touch it. But that doesn't make it any better."
"Try me," said Dr. Veiga. "I'm admirable on the common physicalailments, and by this time I should have been universally recognised asa great man if common ailments were uncommon; because you know in myprofession you never get any honour unless you make a study of diseasesso rare that nobody has them. Discover a new disease, and save the lifeof some solitary nigger who brought it to Liverpool, and you'll be abaronet in a fortnight and a member of all the European academies in amonth. But study colds, indigestion and insomnia, and change a thousandlives a year from despair to felicity, and no authority will take theslightest notice of you ... As with physical, so with mentaldiseases--or spiritual, if you like to call them so. You don't suspectthat in the common mental diseases I'm a regular benefactor of mankind;but I am. I don't blame you for not knowing it, because you're about thelast person I should have thought susceptible to any mental disease, andso you've had no chance of finding out. Now, what is it?"
"Don't I tell you I'm suffering from horrible complications?" cried Mr.Prohack.
"What kind of complications?"
"Every kind. My aim has always been to keep my life simple, and Isucceeded very well--perhaps too well--until I inherited money. I don'tmind money, but I do mind complications. I don't want a largehouse--because it means complications. I desire Sissie's happiness, butI hate weddings. I desire to be looked after, but I hate strangeservants. I can find pleasure in a motor-car, but I hate even the riskof accidents. I have no objection to an income, but I hate investments.And so on. All I ask is to live simply and sensibly, but instead of thatmy existence is transformed into a quadratic equation. And I can't stopit. My happiness is not increasing--it's decreasing. I spend more andmore time in wondering whither I am going, what I am after, and whereprecisely is the point of being alive at all. That's a fact, and now youknow it."
Dr. Veiga rose from his chair and deliberately sat down on the side ofhis patient's bed. The gesture in itself was sufficientlyunprofessional, but he capped it with another of which probably nodoctor had ever been guilty in a British sick-room before; he pulled outa pocket-knife and became his own manicure, surveying his somewhatneglected hands with a benevolently critical gaze, smiling at them as ifto say: "What funny hands you are!"
And Mr. Prohack felt that the doctor was saying: "What a funny Prohackyou are!"
"My friend," said Dr. Veiga at length (with his voice), "my friend, Iwill not conceal from you that your alarm was justified. You aresuffering from one of the commonest and one of the gravest mentalderangements. I'm surprised, but there it is. You haven't yet discoveredthat it's the earth you're living on. You fancy it may be Sirius,Uranus, Aldebaran or Jupiter--let us say Jupiter. Perhaps in one ofthese worlds matters are ordered differently, and their truth is not ourtruth; but let me assure you that the name of your planet is the Earthand that on the earth one great unalterable truth prevails. Namely:--Youcan't do this"--here Dr. Veiga held up a pared and finished finger andwagged it to and fro with solemnity--"you can't do this without movingyour finger ... You were aware of this great truth? Then why are youupset because you can't wag your finger without moving it?... PerhapsI'm being too subtle for you. Let me put the affair in another way.You've lost sight of the supreme earthly fact that everything has notmerely a consequence, but innumerable consequences. You knew when youmarried that you were creating endless consequences, and now you want tolimit the consequences. You knew when you accepted a fortune that youwere creating endless consequences, and now you want to limit them too.You want to alter the rules after the game has started. You set inmotion circumstances which were bound to influence the development ofthe members of your family, and when the inevitable new developmentsbegin, you object, simply because you hadn't foreseen them. You knewthat money doesn't effectively exist until it's spent and that you can'tspend money without causing consequences, and when your family causesconsequences by bringing the money to life you complain that you're amartyr to the consequences and that you hadn't bargained forcomplications. My poor friend, you have made one crucial mistake in yourcareer,--the mistake of being born. Happily the mistake is curable. Ican give you several prescriptions. The first is prussic acid. If youdon't care for that you can donate the whole of your fortune to theSinking Fund for extinguishing the National Debt and you can return tothe Treasury. If you don't care for that you can leave your familymysterious
ly and go and live in Timbuctoo by yourself. If you don't carefor that you can buy a whip and forbid your wife and daughter to growolder or change in any way on pain of a hundred lashes. And if you don'tlike that you can acquaint yourself with the axioms that neither you noranybody else are the centre of the universe and that what you callcomplications are simply another name for life itself. Worry is life,and life is worry. And the absence of worry is death. I won't say to youthat you're rich and beloved and therefore you've nothing to worryabout. I'll say to you, you've got a lot to worry about because you'rerich and beloved.... I'll leave the other hand for to-morrow." Dr. Veigasnapped down the blade of the pocket-knife.
"Platitudes!" ejaculated Mr. Prohack.
"Certainly," agreed the quack. "But I've told you before that it's bytelling everybody what everybody knows that I earn my living."
"I'll get up," said Mr. Prohack.
"And not too soon," said the quack. "Get up by all means and deal withyour worries. All worries can be dealt with."
"It doesn't make life any better," said Mr. Prohack.
"Nothing makes life any better, except death--and there's a disgustingrumour that there is no death. Where shall I find a pencil, my dearfellow? I've forgotten mine, and I want to prescribe Mrs. Prohack'stonic."
"In the boudoir there," said Mr. Prohack. "What the deuce are yousmiling at?"
"I'm smiling because I'm so glad to find you aren't so wise as youlook." And Dr. Veiga disappeared blithely into the boudoir.
Almost at the same moment Mimi knocked and entered. She entered, staredharshly at Mr. Prohack, and then the corners of her ruthless mouthtwitched and loosened and she began to cry.
"Doctor," called Mr. Prohack, "come here at once." The doctor came. "Yousay all worries can be dealt with? How should you deal with this one?"
The doctor dropped a slip of paper on to the bed and walked silently outof the room, precisely as Charlie had done.