I Mr. Prohack passed a very bad night—the worst for months, one of the outstanding bad nights of his whole existence.
 
"Why didn't I have it out with Charlie before he left?" he asked himself some scores of times while listening to the tranquil¹ regular breathing of Eve, who of course was now sure of her house and probably had quite forgotten the meaning of care. "I'm bound to have it out with him sooner or 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 life baffled him by its mysterious illogicalness. He was adored by his spouse², beloved by his children, respected by the world. He had heaps of money, together with the full control of it. His word, if he chose, was law. He had only to say: "I will not take the house in Manchester Square," and nobody could thwart³ him. He powerfully desired not to take it. There was no sensible reason why he should take it. And yet he would take it, under the inexplicable⁴ compulsion of circumstances. In those sombre hours he had a fellow-feeling for Oriental tyrants⁵, who were absolute autocrats⁷ but also slaves of exactly the same sinister⁹ force that had gripped himself. He perceived that in practice there is no such thing as an autocrat⁸....
 
Not that his defeat in regard to the house really disturbed him. He could reconcile himself to the house, despite the hateful complications which it would engender¹⁰. What disturbed him horribly was the drains business, the Doy and Doy business, the Mimi business; he could see no way out of that except through the valley of humiliation¹¹. He remembered, with terrible forebodings, the remark of his daughter after she heard of the heritage: "You'll never be as happy again."
 
When the household day began and the familiar comfortable distant noises of domestic activity announced that the solar system was behaving much as usual in infinite and inconceivable space, he decided¹² that he was too tired to be scientifically idle that day—even though he had a trying-on appointment with Mr. Melchizidek. He decided, too, that he would not get up, would in fact take everything lying down, would refuse to descend¹³ a single step of the stairs to meet trouble. And he had a great wish to be irritated and angry. But, the place seemed to be full of angels who turned the other cheek—and the other cheek was marvellously soft and bewitching.
 
Eve, Sissie (who had called), and Machin—they were all in a state of felicity, for the double reason that Sissie was engaged to be married, and that the household was to move into a noble mansion¹⁴. Machin saw herself at the head of a troup of sub-parlourmaids and housemaids and tweenies, and foretold¹⁵ that she would stand no nonsense from butlers. They all treated Mr. Prohack as a formidable and worshipped tyrant⁶, whose smile was the sun and whose frown death, and who was the fount of wisdom and authority. They knew that he wanted to be irritated, and they gave him no chance to be irritated. Their insight into his psychology¹⁶ was uncanny. They knew that he was beaten on the main point, and with their detestable feminine realism they exquisitely¹⁷ yielded on all the minor¹⁸ points. Eve, fresh as a rose, bent¹⁹ over him and bedewed him, and said 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 had done 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 was not behaving nicely, and it cannot be hidden that he lacked the grandeur²⁰ of 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 another spick-and-span blouse, and the light of devotion in her eyes and the sound of it in her purling voice.
 
"Good morning," the gruff brute²¹ started. "Did I hear the telephone-bell just now?"
 
"Yes, sir. Doy and Doy have telephoned to say that Mr. Charles Prohack has 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."
 
Instinctively²² Mr. Prohack threw away shame. Mimi was his minion²³. He treated her as an Oriental tyrant might treat the mute guardian²⁴ of the seraglio, and told her everything,—that Charlie had forestalled²⁵ them in the matter of the drains of the noble mansion, that Charlie had determined²⁶ to destroy Doy and Doy, that he, Mr. Prohack, was caught in a trap, that there was the devil to pay, and that the finest lies that ingenuity²⁷ could invent would have to be uttered. He abandoned all pretence²⁸ of honesty and uprightness. Mimi showed no surprise whatever, nor was she apparently²⁹ in the least shocked. She seemed to regard the affair as a quite ordinary part of the day's routine. Her insensitive calm frightened Mr. Prohack.
 
"Now we must think of something," said the iniquitous³⁰ 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 the notion—quite wrongly—that you preferred not to have the house, and I acted as I did through an excess of zeal³¹. I must confess the plot. I alone 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 limits to his iniquity³², and he said aloud, benevolently³³, grandiosely³⁴: "But I did 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 will induce me to let you take the responsibility. Let that be clearly understood, please."
 
He looked squarely at the girl, and watched with apprehension³⁵ her aspiring³⁶ nose rise still further, her delicate ruthless mouth become still 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 me as I expect to be trusted. Please don't forget that you sacrificed an empire for me—I shall always remember that. And what's more, you said you expected from me absolute loyalty³⁷ to your interests. I can stand anything but not being trusted—fully!"
 
Mr. Prohack sank deeper into the bed, and laughed loudly, immoderately, titanically³⁸. His ill-humour vanished as a fog will vanish. Nevertheless he was appalled³⁹ by the revelation of the possibilities of the girl's character.
 
The strange scene was interrupted by the arrival of Charlie, who, thanks to his hypnotic influence over Machin, came masterfully straight upstairs, entered the bedroom without asking permission to do so, and, in perfect indifference⁴⁰ to the alleged⁴¹ frailty⁴² of his father's health, proceeded to business.
 
 
 
II
"Dad," said he, after Mimi had gone through her self-ordained martyrdom and left the room. "I wonder whether you quite realise what a top-hole creature that Warburton girl is. She's perfectly⁴⁴ astounding⁴⁵."
 
"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 no scope here."
 
"She makes her own scope," said Mr. Prohack.
 
"Now I honestly do need a good secretary," Charlie at last unmasked his attack. "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 over to me. She'd be invaluable⁴⁶ to me, and with me she really would have scope for her talents." Charlie laughed.
 
"What are you laughing at?"
 
"I was only thinking of her having the notion of queering the drains like that because she wanted to please you. It was simply great. It's the best thing I ever heard." He laughed again. "Now, dad, will you turn her over to me?"
 
"You appear to think she's a slave to be bought and sold and this room the slave-market," said Mr. Prohack. "It hasn't occurred to you that she might object 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 at once, my poor ingenuous⁴⁷ 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 sarcastically⁴⁸.
 
"Yes."
 
"Well, father, as we're talking straight, let's talk straight. I'm going to take her from you. It's a very little help I'm asking you for, and that 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 was really a plot against her, because she wants the house—the house is nothing to me. I may believe that you knew nothing about the plot yourself, but I'll lay you any odds⁴⁹ the mater won't."
 
"Speaking as man to man, my boy, I lay you any odds you can't put your mother against me."
 
"Oh!" cried Charlie, "she won't say she believes you're guilty, but she'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 so badly after all. But doesn't it strike you that you're trying to blackmail⁵⁰ your father? I hope I taught you sagacity, but I never encouraged 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 warily⁵¹ at one another. Both were amused and even affectionate, 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 blandly⁵² enquired⁵³.
 
"No."
 
"My answer is the door. drop the subject entirely⁵⁴. Or sling⁵⁵ your adventurous⁵⁶ book."
 
Mr. Prohack was somewhat startled to see Charlie walk straight out of the bedroom. A disturbing suspicion that there might be something incalculable 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 of public square. No sooner had Charlie so startlingly left than Machin entered again.
 
"Dr. Veiga, sir."
 
And Dr. Veiga came in. The friendship between Mr. Prohack and his picturesque⁵⁷ quack⁵⁸ had progressed—so much so that Eve herself had begun to twit her husband with having lost his head about the doctor. Nevertheless Eve was privately⁵⁹ very pleased with the situation, because it proved that she had been right and Mr. Prohack wrong concerning the qualities of the fat, untidy, ironic⁶⁰ Portuguese⁶¹. Mr. Prohack was delighted to see him, for an interview with Dr. Veiga always meant an unusual indulgence in the sweets of candour and realism.
 
"This is my wife's doing, no doubt," said Mr. Prohack, limply shaking hands.
 
"She called to see me, ostensibly about herself, but of course in fact about you. However, I thought she needed a tonic⁶², and I'll write out the prescription⁶³ 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 going to do your work for you. Find out."
 
Dr. Veiga examined, physically⁶⁴ and orally, and then said: "There's nothing at all the matter with you, my friend."
 
"That's just where you're mistaken," Mr. Prohack retorted. "There's something rather serious the matter with me. I'm suffering from grave complications. Only you can't help me. My trouble is spiritual. Neither pil............