1.
Doctors, laying down the law in their usual confident way, tell usthat the vitality of the human body is at its lowest at two o'clockin the morning: and that it is then, as a consequence, that the mindis least able to contemplate the present with equanimity, the futurewith fortitude, and the past without regret. Every thinking man,however, knows that this is not so. The true zero hour, desolate,gloom-ridden, and specter-haunted, occurs immediately before dinnerwhile we are waiting for that cocktail. It is then that, stripped fora brief moment of our armor of complacency and self-esteem, we seeourselves as we are,--frightful chumps in a world where nothing goesright; a gray world in which, hoping to click, we merely get theraspberry; where, animated by the best intentions, we neverthelesssucceed in perpetrating the scaliest bloomers and landing our lovedones neck-deep in the gumbo.
So reflected Freddie Rooke, that priceless old bean, sittingdisconsolately in an arm-chair at the Drones Club about two weeksafter Jill's departure from England, waiting for his friend AlgyMartyn to trickle in and give him dinner.
Surveying Freddie, as he droops on his spine in the yielding leather,one is conscious of one's limitations as a writer. Gloom like hiscalls for the pen of a master. Zola could have tackled it nicely.
Gorky might have made a stab at it. Dostoievsky would have handled itwith relish. But for oneself the thing is too vast. One cannot wangleit. It intimidates. It would have been bad enough in any case, forAlgy Martyn was late as usual and it always gave Freddie the pip tohave to wait for dinner: but what made it worse was the fact that theDrones was not one of Freddie's clubs and so, until the blighter Algyarrived, it was impossible for him to get his cocktail. There he sat,surrounded by happy, laughing young men, each grasping a glass of thegood old mixture-as-before, absolutely unable to connect. Some ofthem, casual acquaintances, had nodded to him, waved, and gone onlowering the juice,--a spectacle which made Freddie feel much as thewounded soldier would have felt if Sir Philip Sidney, instead ofoffering him the cup of water, had placed it to his own lips anddrained it with a careless "Cheerio!" No wonder Freddie experiencedthe sort of abysmal soul-sadness which afflicts one of Tolstoi'sRussian peasants when, after putting in a heavy day's work stranglinghis father, beating his wife, and dropping the baby into the cityreservoir, he turns to the cupboard, only to find the vodka-bottleempty.
Freddie gave himself up to despondency: and, as always in these dayswhen he was mournful, he thought of Jill. Jill's sad case was acontinual source of mental anguish to him. From the first he hadblamed himself for the breaking-off of her engagement with Derek. Ifhe had not sent the message to Derek from the police-station, thelatter would never have known about their arrest, and all would havebeen well. And now, a few days ago, had come the news of herfinancial disaster, with its attendant complications.
It had descended on Freddie like a thunderbolt through the medium ofRonny Devereux.
"I say," Ronny had said, "have you heard the latest? Your pal,Underhill, has broken off his engagement with Jill Mariner.""I know; rather rotten, what!""Rotten? I should say so! It isn't done. I mean to say, chap can'tchuck a girl just because she's lost her money. Simply isn't on theboard, old man!""Lost her money? What do you mean?"Ronny was surprised. Hadn't Freddie heard? Yes, absolute fact. He hadit from the best authority. Didn't know how it had happened and allthat, but Jill Mariner had gone completely bust; Underhill had givenher the miss-in-baulk; and the poor girl had legged it, no one knewwhere. Oh, Freddie had met her and she had told him she was going toAmerica? Well, then, legged it to America. But the point was that theswine Underhill had handed her the mitten just because she was broke,and that was what Ronny thought so bally rotten. Broker a girl is,Ronny meant to say, more a fellow should stick to her.
"But--" Freddie rushed to his hero's defence. "But it wasn't that atall. Something quite different. I mean, Derek didn't even know Jillhad lost her money. He broke the engagement because . . ." Freddiestopped short. He didn't want everybody to know of that rotten arrestbusiness, as they infallibly would if he confided in Ronny Devereux.
Sort of thing he would never hear the last of. "He broke it offbecause of something quite different.""Oh, yes!" said Ronny skeptically.
"But he did, really!"Ronny shook his head.
"Don't you believe it, old son. Don't you believe it. Stands toreason it must have been because the poor girl was broke. Youwouldn't have done it and I wouldn't have done it, but Underhill did,and that's all there is to it. I mean, a tick's a tick, and there'snothing more to say. Well, I know he's been a pal of yours, Freddie,but, next time I meet him, by Jove, I'll cut him dead. Only I don'tknow him to speak to, dash it!" concluded Ronny regretfully.
Ronny's news had upset Freddie. Derek had returned to the Albany acouple of days ago, moody and silent. They had lunched together atthe Bachelors, and Freddie had been pained at the attitude of hisfellow clubmen. Usually, when he lunched at the Bachelors, his tablebecame a sort of social center. Cheery birds would roll up to passthe time of day, and festive old eggs would toddle over to havecoffee and so forth, and all that sort of thing. Jolly! On thisoccasion nobody had rolled, and all the eggs present had taken theircoffee elsewhere. There was an uncomfortable chill in the atmosphereof which Freddie had been acutely conscious, though Derek had notappeared to notice it. The thing had only come home to Derekyesterday at the Albany, when the painful episode of Wally Mason hadoccurred. It was this way:
"Hullo, Freddie, old top! Sorry to have kept you waiting."Freddie looked up from his broken meditations, to find that his hosthad arrived.
"Hullo!""A quick bracer," said Algy Martyn, "and then the jolly oldfood-stuffs. It's pretty late, I see. Didn't notice how time wasslipping."Over the soup, Freddie was still a prey to gloom. For once thehealing gin-and-vermouth had failed to do its noble work. He sippedsombrely, so sombrely as to cause comment from his host.
"Pipped?" enquired Algy solicitously.
"Pretty pipped," admitted Freddie.
"Backed a loser?""No.""Something wrong with the old tum?""No. . . . Worried.""Worried?""About Derek.""Derek? Who's . . . ? Oh, you mean Underhill?""Yes."Algy Martyn chased an elusive piece of carrot about his soup plate,watching it interestedly as it slid coyly from the spoon.
"Oh?" he said, with sudden coolness. "What about him?"Freddie was too absorbed in his subject to notice the change in hisfriend's tone.
"A dashed unpleasant thing," he said, "happened yesterday morning atmy place. I was just thinking about going out to lunch, when thedoor-bell rang and Parker said a chappie of the name of Mason wouldlike to see me. I didn't remember any Mason, but Parker said thechappie said he knew me when I was a kid. So he loosed him into theroom, and it turned out to be a fellow I used to know years ago downin Worcestershire. I didn't know him from Adam at first, butgradually the old bean got to work, and I placed him. Wally Mason hisname was. Rummily enough, he had spoken to me at the Leicester thatnight when the fire was, but not being able to place him, I had givenhim the miss somewhat. You know how it is. Chappie you've never beenintroduced to says something to you in a theatre, and you murmursomething and sheer off. What?""Absolutely," agreed Algy Martyn. He thoroughly approved of Freddie'scode of etiquette. Sheer off. Only thing to do.
"Well, anyhow, now that he had turned up again and told me who hewas, I began to remember. We had been kids together, don't you know.
(What's this? Salmon? Oh, right ho.) So I buzzed about and did thejovial host, you know; gave him a drink and a toofer, and all thatsort of thing; and talked about the dear old days and what not. Andso forth, if you follow me. Then he brought the conversation round toJill. Of course he knew Jill at the same time when he knew me, downin Worcestershire, you see. We were all pretty pally in those days,if you see what I mean. Well, this man Mason, it seems, had heardsomewhere about Jill losing her money, and he wanted to know if itwas true. I said absolutely. Hadn't heard any details, but Ronny hadtold me and Ronny had had it from some one who had stable informationand all that sort of thing. 'Dashed shame, isn't it!' I said. 'She'sgone to America, you know.' 'I didn't know,' he said. 'I understoodshe was going to be married quite soon.' Well, of course, I told himthat that was off. He didn't say anything for a bit, then he said'Off?' I said 'Off.' 'Did she break it off?' asked the chappie.
'Well, no,' I said. 'As a matter of fact Derek broke it off.' He said'Oh!' (What? Oh yes, a bit of pheasant will be fine.) Where was I?
Oh, yes. He said 'Oh!' Now, before this, I ought to tell you, thischappie Mason had asked me to come out and have a bit of lunch. I hadtold him I was lunching with Derek, and he said 'Right ho,' or wordsto that effect, 'Bring him along.' Derek had been out for a stroll,you see, and we were waiting for him to come in. Well, just at thispoint or juncture, if you know what I mean, in he came, and I said'Oh, what ho!' and introduced Wally Mason. 'Oh, do you knowUnderhill?' I said, or something like that. You know the sort ofthing. And then . . ."Freddie broke off and drained his glass. The recollection of thatpainful moment had made him feverish. Social difficulties always did.
"Then what?" enquired Algy Martyn.
"Well, it, was pretty rotten. Derek held out his hand, as a chappienaturally would, being introduced to a strange chappie, and WallyMason, giving it an absolute miss, went on talking to me just as ifwe were alone, you know. Look here. Here was I, where this knife is.
Derek over here--this fork--with his hand out. Mason here--this bitof bread. Mason looks at his watch, and says 'I'm sorry, Freddie, butI find I've an engagement for lunch. So long!' and biffed out,without apparently knowing Derek was on the earth. I mean . . ."Freddie reached for his glass, "What I mean is, it was dashedembarrassing. I mean, cutting a fellow dead in my rooms. I don't knowwhen I've felt so rotten!"Algy Martyn delivered judgment with great firmness.
"Chappie was perfectly right!""No, but I mean . . .""Absolutely correct-o," insisted Algy sternly. "Underhill can't dashabout all over the place giving the girl he's engaged to the mittenbecause she's broke, and expect no notice to be taken of it. If youwant to know what I think, old man, your pal Underhill--I can'timagine what the deuce you see in him, but, school together and soforth, makes a difference, I suppose,--I say, if you want to knowwhat I think, Freddie, the blighter Underhill would be well advisedeither to leg it after Jill and get her to marry him or else lie lowfor a goodish while till people have forgotten the thing. I mean tosay, fellows like Ronny and I and Dick Wimpole and Archie Studd andthe rest of our lot,--well, we all knew Jill and thought she was atopper and had danced with her here and there and seen her about andall that, and naturally we feel pretty strongly about the wholedashed business. Underhill isn't in our particular set, but we allknow most of the people he knows, and we talk about this business,and the thing gets about, and there you are! My sister, who was agreat pal of Jill's, swears that all the girls she knows mean to cutUnderhill. I tell you, Freddie, London's going to get pretty hot forhim if he doesn't do something dashed quick and with great rapidity!""But you haven't got the story right, old thing!""How not?""Well, I mean you think and Ronny thinks and all the rest of youthink that Derek broke off the engagement because of the money. Itwasn't that at all.""What was it, then?""Well . . . Well, look here, it makes me seem a fearful ass and allthat, but I'd better tell you. Jill and I were going down one ofthose streets near Victoria and a blighter was trying to slay aparrot . . .""Parrot-shooting's pretty good in those parts, they tell me,"interjected Algy satirically.
"Don't interrupt, old man. This parrot had got out of one of thehouses, and a fellow was jabbing at it with a stick, and Jill--youknow what she's like; impulsive, I mean, and all that--Jill got holdof the stick and biffed him with some vim, and a policeman rolled upand the fellow made a fuss and the policeman took Jill and me off tochokey. Well, like an ass, I sent round to ............