his eyes, his occupation. He was manifestly apprehensive when
visitors--not many came nowadays--lingered near it. "It was the
Marriage as killed 'im," he would often say, "and for the
matter 'o that, it did like to 'av been the death of all of us."
By the end of his second week in London MacMaster had begun the
notes for his study of Hugh Treffinger and his work. When his
researches led him occasionally to visit the studios of
Treffinger's friends and erstwhile disciples, he found their
Treffinger manner fading as the ring of Treffinger's personality
died out in them. One by one they were stealing back into the
fold of national British art; the hand that had wound them up was
still. MacMaster despaired of them and confined himself more and
more exclusively to the studio, to such of Treffinger's letters
as were available--they were for the most part singularly negative
and colorless--and to his interrogation of Treffinger's man.
He could not himself have traced the successive steps
by which he was gradually admitted into James's confidence.
Certainly most of his adroit strategies to that end failed
humiliatingly, and whatever it was that built up an understanding
between them must have been instinctive and intuitive on both
sides. When at last James became anecdotal, personal, there was
that in every word he let fall which put breath and blood into
MacMaster's book. James had so long been steeped in that
penetrating personality that he fairly exuded it. Many of his
very phrases, mannerisms, and opinions were impressions that he
had taken on like wet plaster in his daily contact with
Treffinger. Inwardly he was lined with cast-off epitheliums, as
outwardly he was clad in the painter's discarded coats. If the
painter's letters were formal and perfunctory, if his expressions
to his friends had been extravagant, contradictory, and often
apparently insincere--still, MacMaster felt himself not entirely
without authentic sources. It was James who possessed
Treffinger's legend; it was with James that he had laid aside his
pose. Only in his studio, alone, and face to face with his work,
as it seemed, had the man invariably been himself. James had
known him in the one attitude in which he was entirely honest;
their relation had fallen well within the painter's only
indubitable integrity. James's report of Treffinger was
distorted by no hallucination of artistic insight, colored by no
interpretation of his own. He merely held what he had heard and
seen; his mind was a sort of camera obscura. His very
limitations made him the more literal and minutely accurate.
One morning, when MacMaster was seated before the Marriage
of Phaedra, James entered on his usual round of dusting.
"I've 'eard from Lydy Elling by the post, sir," he remarked,
"an' she's give h'orders to 'ave the 'ouse put in readiness. I
doubt she'll be 'ere by Thursday or Friday next."
"She spends most of her time abroad?" queried MacMaster; on
the subject of Lady Treffinger James consistently maintained a
very delicate reserve.
"Well, you could 'ardly say she does that, sir. She finds
the 'ouse a bit dull, I daresay, so durin' the season she stops
mostly with Lydy Mary Percy, at Grosvenor Square. Lydy
Mary's a h'only sister." After a few moments he continued,
speaking in jerks governed by the rigor of his dusting: "H'only
this morning I come upon this scarfpin," exhibiting a very
striking instance of that article, "an' I recalled as 'ow Sir
'Ugh give it me when 'e was acourting of Lydy Elling. Blowed if
I ever see a man go in for a 'oman like 'im! 'E was that gone,
sir. 'E never went in on anythink so 'ard before nor since,
till 'e went in on the Marriage there--though 'e mostly
went in on things pretty keen; 'ad the measles when 'e was
thirty, strong as cholera, an' come close to dyin' of 'em.
'E wasn't strong for Lydy Elling's set; they was a bit too stiff
for 'im. A free an' easy gentleman, 'e was; 'e liked 'is dinner
with a few friends an' them jolly, but 'e wasn't much on what you
might call big affairs. But once 'e went in for Lydy Elling 'e
broke 'imself to new paces; He give away 'is rings an' pins, an'
the tylor's man an' the 'aberdasher's man was at 'is rooms
continual. 'E got 'imself put up for a club in Piccadilly; 'e
starved 'imself thin, an' worrited 'imself white, an' ironed
'imself out, an' drawed 'imself tight as a bow string. It was a
good job 'e come a winner, or I don't know w'at'd 'a been to
pay."
The next week, in consequence of an invitation from Lady
Ellen Treffinger, MacMaster went one afternoon to take tea with
her. He was shown into the garden that lay between the residence
and the studio, where the tea table was set under a gnarled pear
tree. Lady Ellen rose as he approached--he was astonished to
note how tall she was-and greeted him graciously, saying that she
already knew him through her sister. MacMaster felt a certain
satisfaction in her; in her reassuring poise and repose, in the
charming modulations of her voice and the indolent reserve of her
full, almond eyes. He was even delighted to find her face so
inscrutable, though it chilled his own warmth and made the open
frankness he had wished to permit himself impossible. It was a
long face, narrow at the chin, very delicately featured, yet
steeled by an impassive mask of self-control. It was behind just
such finely cut, close-sealed faces, MacMaster reflected, that
nature sometimes hid astonishing secrets. But in spite of this
suggestion of hardness he felt that the unerring taste that
Treffinger had always shown in larger matters had not deserted
him when he came to the choosing of a wife, and he admitted that
he could not himself have selected a woman who looked more as
Treffinger's wife should look.
While he was explaining the purpose of his frequent visits
to the studio she heard him with courteous interest. "I have
read, I think, everything that has been published on Sir Hugh
Treffinger's work, and it seems to me that there is much left to
be said," he concluded.
"I believe they are rather inadequate," she remarked vaguely. She
hesitated a moment, absently fingering the ribbons of her gown,
then continued, without raising her eyes; "I hope you will not
think me too exacting if I ask to see the proofs of such chapters
of your work as have to do with Sir Hugh's personal life. I have
always asked that privilege."
MacMaster hastily assured her as to this, adding, "I mean to touch
on only such facts in his personal life as have to do directly with
his work--such as his monkish education under Ghillini."
"I see your meaning, I think," said Lady Ellen, looking at
him with wide, uncomprehending eyes.
When MacMaster stopped at the studio on leaving the house he
stood for some time before Treffinger's one portrait of himself,
that brigand o
f a picture, with its full throat and square head;
the short upper lip blackened by the close-clipped mustache, the
wiry hair tossed down over the forehead, the strong white teeth
set hard on a short pipestem. He could well understand what
manifold tortures the mere grain of the man's strong red and
brown flesh might have inflicted upon a woman like Lady Ellen.
He could conjecture, too, Treffinger's impotent revolt against
that very repose which had so dazzled him when it first defied
his daring; and how once possessed of it, his first instinct had
been to crush it, since he could not melt it.
Toward the close of the season Lady Ellen Treffinger left
town. MacMaster's work was progressing rapidly, and he and James
wore away the days in their peculiar relation, which by this time
had much of friendliness. Excepting for the regular visits of a
Jewish picture dealer, there were few intrusions upon their
solitude. Occasionally a party of Americans rang at the
little door in the garden wall, but usually they departed speedily
for the Moorish hall and tinkling fountain of the great show
studio of London, not far away.
This Jew, an Austrian by birth, who had a large business in
Melbourne, Australia, was a man of considerable discrimination,
and at once selected the Marriage of Phaedra as the object
of his especial interest. When, upon his first visit, Lichtenstein
had declared the picture one of the things done for time, MacMaster
had rather warmed toward him and had talked to him very freely.
Later, however, the man's repulsive personality and innate
vulgarity so wore upon him that, the more genuine the Jew's
appreciation, the more he resented it and the more base he somehow
felt it to be. It annoyed him to see Lichtenstein walking up and
down before the picture, shaking his head and blinking his watery
eyes over his nose glasses, ejaculating: "Dot is a chem, a chem!
It is wordt to gome den dousant miles for such a bainting, eh? To
make Eurobe abbreciate such a work of ardt it is necessary to take
it away while she is napping. She has never abbreciated until she
has lost, but," knowingly, "she will buy back."
James had, from the first, felt such a distrust of the man
that he would never leave him alone in the studio for a moment.
When Lichtenstein insisted upon having Lady Ellen Treffinger's
address James rose to the point of insolence. "It ayn't no use
to give it, noway. Lydy Treffinger never has nothink to do with
dealers." MacMaster quietly repented his rash confidences,
fearing that he might indirectly cause Lady Ellen annoyance from
this merciless speculator, and he recalled with chagrin that
Lichtenstein had extorted from him, little by little, pretty much
the entire plan of his book, and especially the place in it which
the Marriage of Phaedra was to occupy.
By this time the first chapters of MacMaster's book were in
the hands of his publisher, and his visits to the studio were
necessarily less frequent. The greater part of his time was now
employed with the engravers who were to reproduce such of
Treffinger's pictures as he intended to use as illustrations.
He returned to his hotel late one evening after a long
and vexing day at the engravers to find James in his room, seated
on his steamer trunk by the window, with the outline of a great
square draped in sheets resting against his knee.
"Why, James, what's up?" he cried in astonishment, glancing
inquiringly at the sheeted object.
"Ayn't you seen the pypers, sir?" jerked out the man.
"No, now I think of it, I haven't even looked at a paper. I've
been at the engravers' plant all day. I haven't seen anything."
James drew a copy of the Times from his pocket and handed it
to him, pointing with a tragic finger to a paragraph in the
social column. It was merely the announcement of Lady Ellen
Treffinger's engagement to Captain Alexander Gresham.
"Well, what of it, my man? That surely is her privilege."
James took the paper, turned to another page, and silently pointed
to a paragraph in the art notes which stated that Lady Treffinger
had presented to the X--gallery the entire collection of paintings
and sketches now in her late husband's studio, with the exception
of his unfinished picture, the Marriage Of Phaedra, which
she had sold for a large sum to an Australian dealer who had come
to London purposely to secure some of Treffinger's paintings.
MacMaster pursed up his lips and sat down, his overcoat
still on. "Well, James, this is something of a--something of a
jolt, eh? It never occurred to me she'd really do it."
"Lord, you don't know 'er, sir," said James bitterly, still
staring at the floor in an attitude of abandoned dejection.
MacMaster started up in a flash of enlightenment, "What on
earth have you got there, James? It's not-surely it's not--"
Yes, it is, sir," broke in the man excitedly. "It's the
Marriage itself. It ayn't agoing to H'Australia, no'ow!"
"But man, what are you going to do with it? It's
Lichtenstein's property now, as it seems."
It ayn't, sir, that it ayn't. No, by Gawd, it ayn't!"
shouted James, breaking into a choking fury. He controlled
himself with an effort and added supplicatingly: "Oh, sir, you
ayn't agoing to see it go to H'Australia, w'ere they send
convic's?" He unpinned and flung aside the sheets as though to
let Phaedra plead for herself.
MacMaster sat down again and looked sadly at the doomed
masterpiece. The notion of James having carried it across London
that night rather appealed to his fancy. There was certainly a
flavor about such a highhanded proceeding. "However did you get
it here?" he queried.
"I got a four-wheeler and come over direct, sir. Good job I
'appened to 'ave the chaynge about me."
"You came up High Street, up Piccadilly, through the
Haymarket and Trafalgar Square, and into the Strand?" queried
MacMaster with a relish.
"Yes, sir. Of course, sir, " assented James with surprise.
MacMaster laughed delightedly. "It was a beautiful idea,
James, but I'm afraid we can't carry it any further."
"I was thinkin' as 'ow it would be a rare chance to get you to take
the Marriage over to Paris for a year or two, sir, until the
thing blows over?" suggested James blandly.
"I'm afraid that's out of the question, James. I haven't
the right stuff in me for a pirate, or even a vulgar smuggler,
I'm afraid." MacMaster found it surprisingly difficult to say
this, and he busied himself with the lamp as he said it. He heard
James's hand fall heavily on the trunk top, and he discovered
that he very much disliked sinking in the man's estimation.
"Well, sir," remarked James in a more formal tone, after a
protracted silence; "then there's nothink for it but as 'ow I'll
'ave to make way with it myself."
"And how about your character, James? The evide
nce would be
heavy against you, and even if Lady Treffinger didn't prosecute
you'd be done for."
"Blow my character!--your pardon, sir," cried James, starting to
his feet. "W'at do I want of a character? I'll chuck the 'ole
thing, and damned lively, too. The shop's to be sold out, an' my
place is gone any'ow. I'm agoing to enlist, or try the gold
fields. I've lived too long with h'artists; I'd never give
satisfaction in livery now. You know 'ow it is yourself, sir;
there ayn't no life like it, no'ow."
For a moment MacMaster was almost equal to abetting James in
his theft. He reflected that pictures had been whitewashed, or
hidden in the crypts of churches, or under the floors of palaces
from meaner motives, and to save them from a fate less
ignominious. But presently, with a sigh, he shook his head.
"No, James, it won't do at all. It has been tried over and
over again, ever since the world has been agoing and pictures
amaking. It was tried in Florence and in Venice, but the
pictures were always carried away in the end. You see, the
difficulty is that although Treffinger told you what was not to
be done with the picture, he did not say definitely what was to
be done with it. Do you think Lady Treffinger really understands
that he did not want it to be sold?"
"Well, sir, it was like this, sir," said James, resuming his seat
on the trunk and again resting the picture against his knee. "My
memory is as clear as glass about it. After Sir 'Ugh got up from
'is first stroke, 'e took a fresh start at the Marriage.
Before that 'e 'ad been working at it only at night for a while
back; the Legend was the big picture then, an' was under the
north light w'ere 'e worked of a morning. But one day 'e bid me
take the Legend down an' put the Marriage in its
place, an' 'e says, dashin' on 'is jacket, 'Jymes, this is a start
for the finish, this time.'
"From that on 'e worked at the night picture in the mornin'--a
thing contrary to 'is custom. The Marriage went wrong, and
wrong--an' Sir 'Ugh agettin' seedier an' seedier every day. 'E
tried models an' models, an' smudged an' pynted out on account of
'er face goin' wrong in the shadow. Sometimes 'e layed it on the
colors, an' swore at me an' things in general. He got that
discouraged about 'imself that on 'is low days 'e used to say to
me: 'Jymes, remember one thing; if anythink 'appens to me, the
Marriage is not to go out of 'ere unfinished. It's worth
the lot of 'em, my boy, an' it's not agoing to go shabby for lack
of pains.' 'E said things to that effect repeated.
"He was workin' at the picture the last day, before 'e went
to 'is club. 'E kept the carriage waitin' near an hour while 'e
put on a stroke an' then drawed back for to look at it, an' then
put on another, careful like. After 'e 'ad 'is gloves on,
'e come back an' took away the brushes I was startin' to clean, an'
put in another touch or two. 'It's acomin', Jymes,' 'e says, 'by
gad if it ayn't.' An' with that 'e goes out. It was cruel sudden,
w'at come after.
"That night I was lookin' to 'is clothes at the 'ouse when
they brought 'im 'ome. He was conscious, but w'en I ran
downstairs for to 'elp lift 'im up, I knowed 'e was a finished
man. After we got 'im into bed 'e kept lookin' restless at me
and then at Lydy Elling and ajerkin' of 'is 'and. Finally 'e
quite raised it an' shot 'is thumb out toward the wall. 'He
wants water; ring, Jymes,' says Lydy Elling, placid. But I
knowed 'e was pointin' to the shop.
"'Lydy Treffinger,' says I, bold, 'he's pointin' to the studio. He
means about the Marriage; 'e told me today as 'ow 'e never
wanted it sold unfinished. Is that it, Sir 'Ugh?'
"He smiled an' nodded slight an' closed 'is eyes. 'Thank
you, Jymes,' says Lydy Elling, placid. Then 'e opened 'is eyes