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THE IVORY DISC
BY
PERCY JAMES BREBNER
Author of
"A Gallant Lady" "The Turbulent Duchess"
“The Little Grey Shoe” Etc.

NEW YORK
DUFFIELD AND COMPANY
1920


2354.5.22.100
OCT 18 1922
LEMARY
Bully!!
"
Copyright, 1920, by
DUFFIELD AND COMPANY





THE IVORY DISC
CHAPTER I
He was of those strong men who, whether they do right or
wrong, do it without fear.
AS HE came out of the Star and Garter Hospital at Rich-
mond, Bruce Oliver filled his lungs with the fresh air of
early morning. It was good to be alive, good to have
free use of every limb, good to close the door on all the
suffering, all the terrible disabilities which these walls
enclosed.
"I feel like a walk, Williams," he said to his chauffeur
who had been dozing, “meet me on the other side of the
Park-at Robin Hood gate."
“Yes, sir."
As the car slid smoothly away, Oliver consulted his note
book.
“Ockenden to lunch with me; to-night the 'Lion's
Den,'” and he smiled. “I wonder how Lady Dealtry
manages it in war time. It might be amusing, if I go,
which is doubtful. Being considered eccentric has advan-
tages, you are graciously pardoned for all sorts of social
crimes."
He glanced back at the walls behind him, as if the depres-
sion of the place still had hold of him, then entered the


THE IVORY DISC
Park and struck across the grass in the direction of Penn
Ponds.
Dr. Bruce Oliver was nearer forty than thirty, yet he was
still considered among the young men, chiefly because he oc
cupied no definitely recognized niche in his profession.
Many medical men, trying to square their own conservatism
with modern progress, called him an enthusiast with absurd
ideas and theories, something of a heretic. They would
have welcomed him with open arms had he been nearer
the commonplace. It could not be denied that he had
had a brilliant career as a student, and that since then he
had devoted himself to the study of the brain and nervous
system, writing much upon the subject, but the conclu-
sions he had arrived at were pronounced more revolution-
ary than valuable. One opponent had gone as far as to
call them the distorted dreams of an ill-balanced mind.
Criticism did not trouble Bruce Oliver. He was a rich
man. He could afford to spend his time in study and experi.
ment, leaving his consulting practice to look after itself.
He was not very interested in normal cases, and many
of his patients had only come to him as a last resource,
when all other treatments had failed them. That he had
successfully performed operations which no other man
would attempt had prejudiced a large section of the pro-
fession against him. This prejudice had been strengthened
by the lay press which on several occasions had discussed
his work in a sensational manner, speaking of him as a
man who cared nothing for human life so long as science
was served. There was little sentimentality about Dr.
Oliver, and as a body he detested the anti-vivisectionists,
but there was nothing brutal in his nature, and he was
an enemy to all suffering, human or otherwise.
For a time he had been at one of the base hospitals in
France. He told nothing of his experiences, it was diffi-


THE IVORY DISC
cult to make him talk of the war at all. Now his chief
energies were devoted to the utterly broken wrecks which
had been sent home, seemingly useless flotsam in the cur-
rent of the world's economy. Such a case had brought him
to Richmond in the very early hours of the morning, and
the hopelessness of the case had saddened and depressed
him. That is why he had elected to walk across the park.
He wanted to be in touch again with full and healthy life.
The time in France had altered him. Mentally and phy-
sically he was fit, but he was living at undue tension. A
weaker man would have been at the breaking point. His
hair at the temples was touched with grey, the keen lines
of the face had an edge on them, and the grey eyes seemed
to look a little beyond the sights of earth and sky. At first
he walked slowly, like a tired man, an effort was neces-
sary before he could get into his normal athletic stride,
and there was a suggestion of having to shed some cover-
ing before he could fully enter into the joy of the morning.
Men considered his face hard and unsympathetic, women
were inclined to think it interesting, if not handsome; and
it may be the difference of opinion was due to the fact that,
unconsciously, he was more reserved with men than with
women. The difference was certainly unconscious, for
Bruce Oliver cared for no opinion, either man's or
woman's, and the world's criticism left him wholly un-
moved. He was of those strong men, who, whether they
do right or wrong, do it without fear. Great saints and
great sinners are in this respect of the same brotherhood.
The crisp air of early morning had not yet let go of
the world. The spirit of eternal youth hung over wood
and bracken, and a golden haze clothed the distances in


THE IVORY DISC
uncertainty and mystery. London was far away, much
further than mere milestones indicated, and here, at this
hour, was the heart of the country where a man might
wander without meeting a soul to disturb his reveries.
The trees were full of song, deer lifted their heads for a
moment to gaze at the intruder, and from the depth of
a wood yonder a heron sailed up lazily on its way to the
river.
Bruce Oliver had the power of detachment, the ability
to let his brain lie fallow for a while and absorb uncon-
sciously the sights and sounds about him. He had begun
with an effort, now he was a part of the morning, of the
beauty and perfume of it, at one with the very pulse of
existence, feeling the life in everything, even in the loose
stones which his feet trod into the yielding, almost throb-
bing turf. The heart of a child was in him; he was in
touch with that spiritual reality which lies even within
things material. The spirit of adventure was his, the hazy,
golden distance might hold romance. He was bathed in
new vitality, just a healthy animal in touch with Mother
Nature, the primitive in him at the surface.
He paused as he came in sight of the ponds, dimpling
and sparkling in the sunlight. A clump of wood hid their
full extent. It was easy to imagine that these glistening
waters stretched away into infinite distance, and Oliver
was a boy again in fancy, deep in the excitement and peril
of some trappers on the margin of a Canadian lake. The
water held a fascination for him, and he slowly skirted
the upper and the lower pond, dreaming vague dreams,
too unsubstantial for words or concretr thought. Then
he climbed some rising ground with quickened step and
plunged into a wood bordering an enclosed plantation.
The direction did not worry him, he wanted to be amongst
the trees, and he went straight before him where there


THE IVORY DISC
was no path, trampling through the bracken and the long
grass.
There are places in Richmond Park which few people
seem to discover. They lie close to the beaten tracks, but
just off them. On Sundays a pair of lovers may wander
here by chance and congratulate themselves on their isola-
tion, but as a rule these retreats remain undisturbed. Such
a spot Oliver was approaching. At the unexpected inva-
sion a startled deer got up close to him and bounded away,
and a pheasant with a whirr of wings rushed into the air.
Then Oliver stopped suddenly, almost as startled as the
deer and pheasant. He, too, had encountered the unex-
pected.
3.
On a seat under a great oak at the top of the rising
ground sat a girl, a great Dane lying at her feet. Her hat
was on the seat beside her, a dog lead was in her hand,
and if she had seen the bounding deer or noted the
pheasant's rising she evidently did not attribute the sud-
den activity to anyone's approach. She remained perfectly
motionless, and the dog did not raise his head. The morn-
ing sun, glinting through the breeze-stirred foliage of the
trees, dappled the wood with quivering patterns, and a
shaft of light fell upon the girl at intervals. Screened by
the trees and fern brake, Oliver watched her. He was too
far away to see her face clearly, but whenever the sunlight
touched her it gave her charm and mystery, emphasized
the graceful lines of her white clad figure, and turned her
hair to gold. In this sylvan setting she looked beautiful.
Women had played little part in Bruce Oliver's life, yet
at this moment, perhaps because the primitive in him was
near the surface, there came a great desire to look into the


THE IVORY DISC
eyes of this woman, to hear her speak, to stand beside her,
to know her. And why not? He had only to go straight
forward to pass close to the seat. The circumstances would
excuse a greeting, an apology for disturbing her reverie,
and a word of admiration for the dog might easily serve
to start a conversation. His body swerved an instant to
take the first step towards this end, but he did not take it.
The girl had suddenly stood up, erect, motionless. The
dog did not move, did not even raise his head from his out-
stretched paws. For a few moments she stood motionless,
and then her arms were flung out and upwards as though
she made invocation to some spirit of the wood. There
was complete abandon in her gesture, an all absorbing
purpose in it, a suggestion of passionate longing for some-
thing unattainable. Her figure was alive with the energy
of supplication. Her lips moved but no sound came, if
she prayed it was silent prayer, and she must have done
the same thing before now or the dog would have shown
some excitement. For some time she stood in this atti-
tude, a beautiful figure, perfect as the dream of a Grecian
master; then the tenseness of her pose relaxed and she
sat down again as suddenly as she had risen, glancing
neither to right or left, showing no fear of possible dis-
covery. It was this moment that the dog had been pa-
tiently waiting, for he got up and rested his great head
on her knees as if he understood and was full of sympathy.
Who was she? Where had she come from? More than
ever Bruce Oliver longed to go forward and speak to her.
Why not? This was Richmond Park, free to all who choose
to walk in it. This wood was no privileged spot that the
girl could resent intrusion. Thus the practical side of him
urged him to go forward, but a greater force held him
back. The girl's supplication had made of this wood a
sanctuary, wherein it was sacrilege to tread unbidden. The


THE IVORY DISC
idea held him, gripped him in spite of his desire to jeer
at it, and turning, he went back by the way he had come,
stepping cautiously to avoid betraying his presence, long
after all caution was unnecessary. And presently, looking
back from an upland of the Park over a wide stretch of
turf, he saw that the girl and dog had come from the
distant wood and were going briskly in the direction of
Sheen Gate.
4
To Bruce Oliver women were chiefly an interesting
study. Beyond a process of definite labelling he did not
go. He had placed and catalogued them in the world's
museum of wonders, as it were, pausing occasionally to
admire the beauty of one specimen, or the marvellous capa-
bility of another, and showing almost an uncanny knowl-
edge in his judgment of them. He had treated men in
much the same way, but with less attention to detail, find-
ing them less complex. Sex was for him merely a difference
of functions. His life did not hold a single sentimental
episode. He had not escaped that admiration which a cer-
tain type of woman is always ready to give to a man of
outstanding personality, but it had made no impression
on him. If he had noticed it at all he smiled at the curious
specimen which had been brought under his observation,
and perhaps added to his collection of notes for a book
he contemplated dealing with the nervous development of
women under modern conditions. He did not dislike
women, was inclined to treat them with the same freedom
of thought and speech as he used to men, but he had never
come even within the shadow of love. Today's adventure
was a new sensation to him, and as he stood watching the
girl until she was out of sight he wondered why she had


10 . THE IVORY DISC
raised in him a sudden desire altogether foreign to his
nature.
Turning towards Robin Hood gate he was inclined to
become analytical with himself. Had his time in France
done something to change his nature? A nausea against
such unnecessary suffering as he had witnessed might
have brought with it a kind of savage reaction, a passionate
longing for all that was normal in life. He had seen
destruction mental and physical, was he unconsciously
grasping at creative force to adjust the balance? A woman,
suddenly encountered under exceptional circumstances,
might stir into quick life a latent desire of this kind-a
desire for woman, for love, for children. This would be
a new life, a new creation, a stepping out to the future,
something definite in a world which was rocking on its
foundations, something definite in a future which was 80
obscure to statesmen, philosophers and moralists. Prac-
tical common sense urged that this girl was a very ordinary
person taking her dog for his usual walk, and that being
young the spirit of the morning had got into her blood.
Perhaps she had a vein of romance in her, or it might be
that the world's tragedy had touched her, and being alone,
she had stood to petition the Almighty for the safety of a
lover fighting on French battlefields. It might be so, such
a girl must certainly have a lover, yet the explanation did
not satisfy Oliver. The adventure had had an effect upon
him which he was convinced no ordinary woman could have
produced. Late last night he had been working in his
laboratory when the call had come for him to go to Rich-
mond without delay; he had meant to resume his experi-
ments, which were of an absorbing nature, as soon as he
returned, but realized that he was wholly unfit for work
today. A new and mysterious life was tingling in his blood,
calling him into unknown paths, giving him a thirst for


THE IVORY DISC
11
strange experiences. He was full of dreams and visions
and pleasant uncertainties, in that mood when men are
inclined to let themselves go, and having made fools of
themselves, plead as excuse that irresistable force of the
Pagan spirit which at intervals will seduce the most evenly
balanced minds.
His car was waiting just outside the park gate, and he
was startled to think how much had happened since he had
sent it away from the hospital. He had travelled further
than across Richmond Park. His adventure in the wood
was more than an episode, and the temptation to spurn
wisdom for a time and dance a wild measure with folly
was strong upon him. The Pagan spirit had him in thrall,
and it was a good thing for him that Ockenden was coming
to lunch. And before he had reached town Bruce Oliver
had decided to appear in the “Lion's Den” tonight. It
would be time wasted, but that would be better than time
actively ill-spent in sowing for a future harvest of regrets.


CHAPTER II
"I am of the East only by adoption."
1
“CANON FLEETWOOD," a servant announced, and as the
ascetic looking cleric, in the uniform of a chaplain of the
forces, crossed the room towards his hostess, a man stand-
ing with a girl in the embrasure of one of the windows
turned to look at him.
“New, isn't he, Phil?”
“His first appearance," the girl answered in an under-
tone. "Mother heard him preach at St. Mark's-socialistic
Christianity culled from Tommies in the trenches. You
mustn't laugh at mother, Gerald.”
"Why, my dear, I think Lady Dealtry is perfectly won-
derful; besides, I owe her a debt of gratitude for tolerating
such an unimportant individual as myself.”
“Yes, she is wonderful,” said the girl, glancing at her
mother, admiring her, but in common with many other
people failing to comprehend her. “I fear I am a severe
trial to her. I seem to be her only failure.”
Lady Dealtry had begun life as the only daughter of a
country parson. Her father's orthodoxy, which was as
narrow as his means, had bound the girl in fetters until
she was past her first youth. She seemed destined to spend
all her life in parish work and the boredom of unimagi-
native tea parties, when chance brought into her small
circle Sir Charles Dealtry, the eminent scientist, who held
12


THE IVORY DISC
13
honorary degrees from universities at home and abroad,
and had been created a Baronet by a country proud of his
attainments. He was no longer young, was looked upon as
wedded to science, and succeeded in astonishing everybody
when he married Lucy Whitcomb. Of course she had
married him for his money, the cynics said, but what at-
traction could she have had for Sir Charles? The cynics
failed entirely to appreciate the latent capabilities of the
country parson's daughter. The union had been a happy
one, and very far from prosaic. Sir Charles found a new
zest in life and renewed his youth, while his wife came out
of her shell with astonishing rapidity and amazing results.
Her personality had been strangled by her commonplace
surroundings, now she intended to inpress it upon the
world, and was not contented to be merely the wife of a
distinguished man. She accomplished this in three ways.
She developed a pleasing eccentricity in dress, modernized
Greek in character, fully aware that it suited her classic
style to perfection, and thus she became conspicuous and
a central point in every gathering she attended. Then, by
making the most of her attainments, and by giving her
judgments in slow and well considered phases, judg-
ments, be it said, which were usually diametrically opposed
to commonly accepted opinions, she established a reputa-
tion as a keen critic of men and manners. Thirdly, she had
published a novel which, although not a masterpiece, had
raised a perfect storm of divergent criticism. Remarkable
for its advanced views, it was eagerly read by those inter-
ested in modern ideas, and even more eagerly devoured
by those who were shocked by them. It was therefore a
great success. Lady Dealtry had travelled far since the
days of Sunday school and mothers' meetings in her
father's parish.
The Dealtrys' dinner parties at Lennox Lodge, Kensing-


14
THE IVORY DISC
ton, had become a fixed social function. Invitations were
eagerly sought after, and those who succeeded in getting
them considered themselves among the elect in thought
and art. Someone who had failed had contemptuously
spoken of Lennox Lodge as the “Lion's Den," and the name
had stuck. Only those who had done something to distin-
guished themselves were likely to have part in these enter-
tainments, and since fame and notoriety are easily con-
fused, a strange medley was often the result. As Lady
Dealtry said, a certain catholicity was absolutely necessary.
If you only brought together people who agreed with one
another, you might form an excellent mutual admiration
society, but you would assuredly have a very dull even-
ing.
During the war, patriotism and food difficulties had in-
duced Lady Dealtry to give up these dinners; she gave
suppers instead. It was not easy to tell the substitute
from the real thing, but the change of name, and the half
hour's alteration in time, seemed to give the hostess a sen-
sation of sacrifice, just as her efforts on flag days and at
Red Cross bazaars gave her a sensation of strenuous war
work. She had hard things to say about all classes of
slackers, and when the papers recorded that Lady Dealtry
had spent the whole morning selling flags on behalf of
Belgian prisoners in the artistic vestibule of Messrs. Ber-
rington's stores, she felt that the world must be aware that
she was nobly playing her part in the great conflict.
Moreover, she was careful there should always be some
khaki at her supper parties.
2
Possibly Philippa Dealtry was right when she said her
mother must find her a severe trial. An extraordinary
child would have fitted into Lady Dealtry's scheme of life,


THE IVORY DISC
16
whereas Philippa was just an ordinary girl, pretty,
graceful, brimming over with the joy of life, sunshine in
her face and in her heart, and with no eccentricity of any
kind. At Lennox Lodge no eccentricity could have been
half as disconcerting as her common sense attitude. Science
she found rather tiresome, especially when its votaries
quarreled, which they often did; she considered actors and
actresses quite uninteresting off the stage; and although
appreciating art and literature, she had no great desire to
know artists and authors. They were seldom as stimulating
as their work, she declared. Not easily enthusiastic, she
had a perfect genius for seeing the weak points in her
mother's guests, and instead of helping her mother at
bazaars and flag selling she insisted on the less spectacular
role of a V. A. D. To crown all she had set her affections
on a man who was not distinguished in any way.
Gerald Palgrave had been called to the Bar, but no
excitement had been caused in legal circles either at the
time or subsequently. On his own confession he hardly
knew what a brief looked like, and had occupied his en-
forced leisure with the pen. Fame had not come, but an
invitation to Lennox Lodge had, because Lady Dealtry had
been much impressed with an article of his on the Iniquity
of the Divorce Laws. At a later date he confided to Phil-
ippa that he was not very much interested in the divorce
laws, but at the moment they had seemed a good subject to
write about. Lady Dealtry, however, had prophesied a
brilliant future for the writer, a prophecy she began to
doubt on a closer acquaintance although she did not say
80. She never admitted a mistake, and since Philippa was
absolutely without ambition, she accustomed herself to the
idea of a mediocre marriage for her daughter. For quite
an ordinary individual Gerald was rather a dear, she
thought. A limp, the result of an accident in childhood,


16
THE IVORY DISC
had barred him from active service and he was working
in the Ministry of Munitions.
Other guests had followed quickly on Canon Fleet-
wood's arrival and stood about the room in small groups.
Carson, the artist, and his wife who lectured on education,
were talking to Sir Charles. King, the actor, famed as the
most perfect lover on the stage and the worst caricature
of it in private life, was holding forth to the Canon and
Professor Bennett, the later frankly bored because he be-
lieved the only really interesting subject in the world was
geology. Everett the novelist, whose sale in cheap editions
was enormous, was talking to Martha Houghton, a Red
Cross nurse, recuperating after thrilling experiences in
Serbia, and an airman, a boy home on leave from the front
where he had done marvellous things which no one had
succeeded in getting him to talk about. If Everert were
out for copy both nurse and airman must have disap-
pointed him.
Nurse Houghton turned quickly as Bruce Oliver was
announced.
“This is a delightful surprise,” said Lady Dealtry. “I
always expect an eleventh hour excuse from you."
“A doctor is never his own master,” he answered, “espe-
cially in these times. Tonight I am fortunate.”
He had shaken hands with Sir Charles, and had joined
Philippa and Palgrave by the window, when Anthony
Ockenden was announced. There was a sudden hush in the
conversation, heralding the coming of a considerable per-
son. He was a tall, fragile man, with long, thin hair, and
a loosely jointed figure which seemed to be insufficiently
nourished. His evening clothes were old-fashioned, look-
ing as if they had been made for a much larger man, and
he wore a soft fronted shirt, and an eccentric black tie
which flopped from underneath a soft, turned-down collar.


THE IVORY DISC
17
He stood for a moment in the doorway, glancing vacantly
round the room as if he were imploring someone to tell
him where he was and how he came to be there.
“The great poseur," Palgrave remarked..
“Is it possible for a legal mind to appreciate a poet?"
Oliver asked.
“And he is a great poet," said Philippa. “Only a great
poet could have written "The Questing of the Perfect
Knight,' and his patriotic verse makes the efforts of others
appear mere doggerel. The pity is that, after being
thrilled by his work, one should have to know him per-
sonally.”
"Perhaps the outside is the worst part of him," said
Oliver. “He was lunching with me today and was quite
interesting.”
"I should never have suspected you of liking poetry,
Doctor," laughed Philippa.
"I don't. We discussed analine dyes. Ockenden knows
quite a lot about the process."
“I suppose we are complete," said Palgrave. “Ocken-
den usually contrives to be the last arrival.”
“The Bocaras are not here yet,” Philippa returned.
“Bocara?” queried Oliver.
“He is a teacher of Oriental languages an Egyptian,
I believe. His wife is wonderful. You have the privilege
of taking her in to-to supper."
“And it may be a startling experience," laughed Pal-
grave. “She may turn up in native dress, or "
“Madame Bocara," the servant announced.
“Alone!” Lady Dealtry exclaimed, going forward to
meet her.
“It is a pity, but the Professor is not well. He is not


18
THE IVORY DISC
really ill, you know, but he cannot go out. I wanted to
send a message, but he would not let me."
“Why madame?” Oliver whispered to Philippa. “Is
she French ?”
“She is always called madame.”
She was European, but Oliver could not fix her na-
tionality. She was quite young, twenty-five at the most, a
little strange, a little bizarre even, but beautiful—it is
the only word to describe her. Perhaps the mass of her
gold-brown hair gathered loosely about her head made her
face seem rather small, a little short from forehead to
chin, but it was a passing criticism, forgotten in a moment.
Her eyes were blue, deep set, dark blue eyes, steady yet
elusive, giving little clue to what manner of woman she
was. Her mouth was firm and strong, her coloring deli-
cate but warm, and her voice was low, intense, not made
for trivialities. She spoke with a certain deliberation as if
she had to feel for her words, indeed, she used wrong ones
occasionally, and had a curious accent. Perhaps her hus-
band spoke English imperfectly, Oliver thought. Cer-
tainly her dress must owe something to his influence. It
was of black and dull gold, showing the supple lines of a
perfect figure without emphasizing them; there was a note
of Oriental richness about it, a breath from the bazaars
of the East. Her jewelry was unusual and barbaric in tone.
A single ruby, set in a gold band which encircled her hair,
scintillated like a tongue of flame, and five rubies, pendant
upon an almost invisible chain, gleamed like blood drops
upon her fair throat. She wore too many rings, a burden
for such delicate hands. Oliver wondered what manner
of man her husband was.
Some of the guests she knew, but her manner of greeting
them was curiously detached. Ockenden, as he shook hands
with her, evidently paid her a compliment which seemed


THE IVORY DISC
19
to please her for a moment, but the next instant her eyes
seemed to look into the beyond as if she had no interest in
her surroundings.
“Cleopatra or Trojan Helen ?” queried King in Oliver's
ear.
The doctor laughed, not at the actor but at himself, at
the strange fact that in one day he should see two women
who fascinated him when all his life he had gone scathless.
At the sound of his laughter Madame Bocara turned in his
direction, and Lady Dealtry beckoned to him.
“I do not think you know Madame Bocara, Doctor?”
“I have not that honor."
“Estelle, this is Dr. Bruce Oliver, of whom you have
heard, no doubt,” and the introduction made, Lady
Dealtry left them facing each other.
Estelle Bocara slowly shook her head, the smile on her
lips gradually breaking into a little laugh.
“No, of course you have never heard of me," said Oliver.
“Most of us are far more ordinary than Lady Dealtry
imagines, and are seldom very interested in each other's pur-
suits. Science is inclined to scoff at art, and art naturally
abominates the dissecting room.”
"Is that quite true today?” she asked. “I am not a
clever person either in art or science, but surely the novels
which sell, and the modern play- "
"Perhaps you are right,” Oliver returned. “They are
rather reminiscent of the operating table I understand,
experiments in moral and immoral dissection. I seldom
go to the theatre, and I am sufficiently interested in real
life to leave modern novels alone.”
“You are-science?” she asked.
“Yes. That does not displease you, I trust."
“No, only when it has to do with death.”
“Science deals with life, too, but we won't talk science


20
THE IVORY DISC
tonight. Which way lies your chief interest in life?”
It was a natural question since they had met at Lennox
Lodge.
“I am struggling to be happy. I like being with happy
people. When you laughed just now I said to Lady
Dealtry: "Who is that?' I was very glad when she said
you were my supper partner.”
“Laughter does not always mean happiness.”
"But in your case?” she asked.
“My enemies say I laugh like a school boy to conceal
the calculating wickedness of a devil.”
“I do not believe that."
“I think it is an exaggeration myself,” Oliver returned.
“And your friends "
“They are neither many nor enthusiastic."
“Perhaps I shall be different,” she smiled, and then sup-
per was announced.
Bruce Oliver was exceedingly conscious of his partner
and of himself, there was a desire to monopolize her, to
isolate her. The girl of the morning was forgotten, the
woman of tonight had possession of him. She was beauti-
ful, not conforming to any type, something universal about
her. Although he had never heard of her, she might be
famous for her beauty, perhaps that was why she was a
welcome guest at Lennox Lodge. The pursuit of happiness
which she claimed as her mission in life could hardly place
her amongst celebrities.
"It is strange we have not met before,” she said, turning
to him when they were seated. “I shall tell the Professor
about you and he will explain all you have done. About
the people who are doing things he always knows."


22
THE IVORY DISC
lost in a lecture. Ockenden was a poet of a very high order
and might be worth listening to even if he did lecture.
Oliver seemed to be alone in resenting the interruption.
"It is a fantastic tale of the East,” the poet went on,
absorbed in himself and in the woman whose beauty he
seemed to devour with the intensity of his gaze, "a tale of
love, deep and mysterious as—as a woman's eyes, burning
as the noonday heat, slumbrous as the velvety night, full
of that overmastering passion of which the West knows
nothing."
Estelle Bocara was silent. Oliver was angry. What
right had Ockenden to look at her with the beastly desire
of a hungry wolf, or to think of her and believe her hon-
ored by the thought?
“I did not know you had been in the East,” said Sir
Charles.
Ockenden turned to him but had no answer ready. From
the other end of the table Lady Dealtry came to his rescue.
“The poet needs only the eyes of imagination," she said
in a manner suggestive of settling a difficult point for all
time.
“In my dreams I have visited the glowing East,” Ock-
enden said in his high-pitched voice, “and have looked
deeply into the hearts of men and women there. It is the
heart I touch, the life centre, seeing the reason of action,
and the significance in the scheme of existence. I see no
common flower upon the highway, I look behind it for
the meaning, the spirit truth.”
“This kind of thing must bore you pretty stiff," said
Palgrave in an undertone to the young aviator who sat
beside him.
“No. I understand what he means," said the boy.
“I've gone up from the aerodrome on a dull day right
through the clouds into the sunlit blue, and sang and been


24
THE IVORY DISC
'Don't say that,” she returned earnestly. “You will
make me doubt, and I like to believe I have met people
who are really happy, that great happiness is possible,
that it is not merely a splendid garment in which to hide
some deformity.”
“Have you no personal experience to judge by?”
“No. It is difficult to explain, but I am conscious, at
least I think I am, that the happiness I feel at this instant
is not a real condition. It is transitory and only com-
parative. I am not miserable, therefore I am happy.”
“And love?” Oliver asked.
She looked at him, and for a moment he seemed to gaze
into the unknown through the depths of her eyes.
“I have said I have no personal experience,” she an-
swered slowly. “It is strange and incomprehensible to me,
because although I am of the East only by adoption, there
is much of the East in me, far more than I can appreci-
ate or understand. I never talk of it, I might frighten
people.”
“You will not frighten me."
"It is curious that I should be so certain of that, but
I am. We are not strangers. Your existence and mine are
as two spinning circles in space which have touched each
other in their turning long before tonight, and just be-
cause they are circles, tonight we are conscious of the old
vibrations. We renew friendship, whether for good or
ill who shall say? The high gods are over fate. You see
how much of the East there is in me. That priest yonder
-I do not know his name would hold up shocked hands.
He is satisfied with his beliefs and thinks all the rest of
the great world is wrong. Isn't it presumption, ungod-
like? He is only an atom like the rest of us. You under-
stand, of course?”
“Yes.”


THE IVORY DISC
25
“And listen, I want to tell you of myself,” she went
on, "but how shall I? It is so difficult to find words to
express real thought, because thought is never really fixed,
but always in flux, ever changing a little in the rushing
torrent of life. So it is with me. I am incomplete. I am
a wine skin, lacking the wine, yet saturated with the per-
fume of it. There is fire in me, but it is of hot ashes, and
there are no bellows to blow it into flame. I am not like
these Western women, neither good like some, nor wicked
like others. I am an instrument waiting for a master to
touch, to awaken the music in me. I cannot live easily, I
am not contented. A husband, home, money, beautiful
things to wear, pleasure, these are not to me everything."
“And children?” Oliver asked.
The question seemed to astonish her like a new thought.
“Would they make all the difference?”
“Some difference, certainly.”
“I have never thought of children,” she said after a
pause, and the intimacy of the conversation did not appear
to occur to her. “It is perhaps because I have not yet
done thinking of myself. I have not yet grown up. I
am always stretching out to something which it seems I
ought to have, but I do not reach it. There are times
when I am nothing, as if I did not really exist, but it is
not often so. Generally I am fretting against the limits
which hold me. I would fly had I wings, fly and never
return, fly as I have seen birds in the East fly, straight
into the glowing heart of the setting sun.”
Neither wholly woman, nor wholly child, she was cer-
tainly a pagan, Oliver thought, and he was inclined for
a moment to think of her as a specimen, more beautiful
and incomprehensible than any he had known, but the
next instant he saw only the woman who had set his pulses
throbbing, who might be dangerous if he would follow con-
ventional ruts.


26
THE IVORY DISC
“And the Professor ?” he asked.
She laughed, a musical cadence that had joyousness in
it.
“The Professor! He would still go on teaching Oriental
languages."
“I think you did not hear me, Dr. Oliver.”
Bruce Oliver looked up quickly to find the geologist's
eyes fixed upon him, and the consciousness that there was
a momentary silence round the table.
“The question is, Dr. Oliver, 'What is a miracle'q"
laughed Lady Dealtry from the end of the table. "The
Canon is more or less orthodox, Mr. Ockenden says it
is one form of imagination, Professor Bennett pins his faith
to latent mental disease, and Sir Charles clings to some
obscure germ theory.”.
“I must leave the explanation to the Canon,” said
Oliver.
“I only insist, I do not attempt to explain," Fleetwood
said.
“Miracles, so called, are born in imagination," said Ben-
nett with the precision he used when addressing a class,
"imagination in a virulent form. Essentially Ockenden
would say the same, but parts company with me when I
go further and state that imagination is rooted in mental
disorder, in disease in short. It is a question which im-
pinges on your line of study and experiment, Oliver."
"It is certainly one I would rather discuss in private,
in your study or mine," was the answer.
"Never go to a specialist if you want a definite opin.'
ion,” laughed Palgrave.
“Then Shakespeare must have been a chronic invalid,"
King remarked.


THE IVORY DISC
“In a scientific sense he was undoubtedly," Bennett
retorted. “Genius is madness, any exact line of demarca-
tion is beside the point when dealing with fundamentals,
and madness, I take it, is a disease, Dr. Oliver. No private
discussion is necessary to establish that fact, I presume."
Oliver merely shrugged his shoulders, leaving it doubt-
ful whether he considered madness a disease or not. He
refused to be drawn into the argument. He had told
Madame Bocara that he would not talk science tonight.
She sat with her hands in her lap, apparently quite unin-
terested in the conversation.
“Imagination is a sublime gift,” Ockenden burst out
passionately, “a gift by which visions are seen, and the
truth of hidden things breathed into the hearts of men
-fundamental truth, Professor, the great fundamental
which all you scientists always leave out. Plagued with
facts, believing only what you can see and handle, it is
easy to scoff, but your material creed is worthless, be-
cause every sane man is conscious of a soul which links
him to the everlasting. And upon this soul the imagina-
tion plays until it trembles into exquisite harmony which
you wretched laborers amongst hard sterile facts have no
ears to hear.”
“But, believe me, we are listening,” said Sir Charles.
“Yes, with the cotton wool of prejudice in your ears,"
the poet returned excitedly. “For you there are only
nerve centres, sympathetic ganglia, brain cells, things you
can point to and explain. Your science has never found
the soul.”
“We are content to leave it to the imagination," and
Bennett's scornful laugh was like the sudden shifting of
pebbles in a narrow gully.
“You deny it in the face of the evidence which is shout-
ing at you every hour of the day,” Ockenden returned.


28
THE IVORY DISC
“Young men are dying in France for ideals. Will all the
science in the world compel a man to sacrifice himself
for his country and his fellows? No, it is the soul in him
which does that. Can science tell me why the most primi-
tive heathen must needs invoke some god of his imagining?
Has science discovered the reason of a mother's love? Has
your horrible dissecting room told you any of these things,
Oliver? Or you, Professor, has enlightenment come from
your stones and mud?"
“We seem to have wandered from the point," said Lady
Dealtry.
“From miracles, indeed, yes,” said the Canon in a pulpit
manner.
Everest was getting copy about Serbia from Nurse
Houghton, and the young aviator, having explained gliding
turns to Palgrave, was telling Philippa that he considered
the V. A. D.'s splendid, especially one of them who had
nursed him in hospital. It was perhaps a glance at their
eager young faces which made Sir Charles somewhat
judicial.
“This war is likely to rejuvenate the world,” he said.
“It is the day of youth, and we older men may find our.
selves panting for breath in our endeavor to keep pace
with the times. We may be on the threshold of new dis-
coveries. Bergson has taught us something, has opened
new fields of thought, and Vitalism has taken a bench in
the workshop of Science. I can see some of our theories
and beliefs being relegated to the scrap heap before we
are much older. Our friend Oliver is one of those who
is moving with the times. He may have much to tell us
later."
“His investigations have left him dumb apparently,"
Bennett snapped, “while my mud and stones prove that
matter invariably obeys certain laws which no amount of


THE IVORY DISC
29
imagination, nor soul, nor anything else is going to alter.”
“I prefer our talk on happiness,” Oliver whispered to
Estelle as the Professor gave signs of plunging into a geo-
logical lecture. She did not answer him, only her hands
moved a little in her lap, and then she began to speak in a
low, intense tone which compelled silence and attention.
“I have known strange happenings in the East which
no man has explained, nor can. Belief has gone deeper
there than here because the truth seekers are less self-
absorbed, and power has been given them which is super-
natural. In the places of the bodily dead the spirits of
those dead whisper strangely, and some of the living have
learnt to listen. Sometimes only a little is understood,
sometimes much, it depends how closely the living are in
touch with the dead things unseen and to come, with all
that lives but has passed out of the world, with all that
lives waiting for material birth. The power lies in faith
not in science, in life not in death, and men are given
understanding of things past and insight to foretell what
shall be. And because knowledge is not yet perfect in
anyone, and because many roads lead into the great high-
way of truth, there are many gods in the East, manifesta-
tions of the one great God; and to their priests and
priestesses, to their worshippers and devotees, is given
at times more than mortal power, it may be for good or
ill, power over life and disease and death. Good and ill
are words which we passers through the world use; to the
gods they are meaningless, because knowing all, there is
for them only good as the ultimate end. All else, though
it be evil, is probationary. I have known a man die with-
out cause in the full pride of his life because a curse was
upon him. I have seen a man wither like a dry leaf be-
cause he had angered the gods. In the beyond all is
planned from all time to all time. Inevitability is the
and
Worship
than


30
THE IVORY DISC
unbreakable law. Nothing but the preordained can hap-
pen. Though a man never goes near sea nor river, yet
shall he drown if so it is ordained. Man comes and goes,
living his span upon the earth, travelling the road marked
for him, and no other, from one fixed point to another point
equally fixed. No circumstances shall change the inevit-
able. It is a short span from a dawn to a dark, life coming
out of shadows and hurrying on to one sure episode
death, which is change, no more. Only fools would expect
science to explain what is beyond all science."
She stopped as suddenly as she had begun and seemed
unconscious that everyone was looking at her, and that
silence reigned round the table.
Bruce Oliver had turned towards her as she began to
speak, and was held fascinated, not by her strange mys-
ticism, not by her beauty even, but by her subtle personal-
ity. He had supposed her fame must rest on her beauty,
but she was also a mystic, speaking with curious authority.
He had thought of her as half woman, half child, and
she had spoken like a priestess certain of her knowledge.
Less than ever did he understand her, he did not attempt
to spur his brain into an endeavor to comprehend; he was
content to know that she had brought a new and abiding
factor into his life-herself. He did not speculate upon
the consequences, he only realized the change. She, too,
was aware of the change, had already spoken of it, had
come close to him in thought, without question, without
fear of being misunderstood. The inevitable had happened.
It was her creed, and his soul, shaking free from pre-
conceptions, acknowledged it true. For good or ill they
had met; the past was over, the future remained. That


THE IVORY DISC
31
she was married made no difference. They had met as
from all time it was intended they should, and life was
touched with a golden glory even as the rising sun bur.
nishes the waking world with morning.
“Why do you look at me so ?”
She turned to him. The question was not asked in a
whisper, everyone could hear it, but she only seemed con-
scious of his scrutiny, only from him did she ask and
expect an answer. She was detached, still mystical, men-
tally feeling her way, aware only of the man beside her.
“Esoteric Bhuddism," murmured Canon Fleetwood.
“Hamlet's creed," said King.
“More likely old Bocara's,” said Palgrave.
“Your inanity is almost refreshing, Gerald,” whispered
Philippa. “I do not like the inevitable. I have never
heard Estelle talk like that before.”
“Madame, one of the men you speak of died from stroke,
the other shrivelled from some internal disease,” said Pro-
fessor Bennett, with a last word manner about him. “The
stroke may have been apoplexy, caused by the sun, perhaps,
and I have little doubt the disease germ which accounted
for the shrivelling could be found in my mud.”
"Madame is right," Ockenden burst out excitedly, furi.
ous at the Professor's cold scorn. “She is "
“More artist than scientist, and that appeals to me,”
said Carson.
"I wonder whether a closer study of the religions of the
East would help the cause of education in this country,"
speculated his wife.
"It would ruin it," said the Canon as if he alone were
qualified to give an opinion.
“If anyone could persuade me to ignore the teachings
of science you would, Madame," said Sir Charles, leaning
towards her.


32
THE IVORY DISC
Estelle did not appear to hear him. She paid no atten.
tion to any of the comments. She was still looking at
Oliver, still waiting for his answer.
“She is right, absolutely right,” Ockenden insisted in
his high-pitched voice, made more shrill by excitement.
He would be heard. “She is right. She has seen, she
knows. The East has held fast to fundamental truths
which the West has forgotten. In my great poem-I was
telling Madame in my great poem I have expressed all
-all. These lines will show, yes, I will quote. I have
tried to-toI have tried — "
He sprang to his feet, flinging out his arms, while his
lips moved as if he were reciting, but no sound came.
“Mr. Ockenden!”
Lady Dealtry half rose from her chair, and every face
was turned towards the poet.
“My poem,” and his fact twitched as if he were trying
to smile at his own enthusiasm. “My great poem-a little
- a long time agoI–I thought- "
Then one hand went to his heart sharply, a dull thud
against his body. For one instant he stood erect, his eyes
fixed on vacancy, and then he pitched forward across the
table. There was the sound of breaking glass, the red
stain of wine upon the cloth, there were quick exclamations,
and the sudden scrape of chairs as the guests sprang to
their feet-then silence.
In a moment Bruce Oliver was beside him, bending over
him.
“Good God! He is dead,” he said in a hushed whisper.


CHAPTER III
It was not impossible that virtue and protection lay in
this trinket of ivory and silver.
IT WAS midnight when Bruce Oliver left Lennox Lodge
to walk home. The police had been summoned and had
made their preliminary investigation, the guests had de-
parted, the dead man lay for the night in the darkened
library. It had been a terrible ending to a wonderful
day. The setting of the tragedy, the brilliantly lighted
room, the remains of the feast, the atmosphere of luxury
and full life, had made it more appalling, and it was only
natural that excitement and confusion should have fol-
lowed quickly on silent dismay. Mrs. Carson was inclined
to be hysterical before Lady Dealtry had got the ladies
out of the room, and Madame Bocara had stood behind
her chair as if unable to move until Philippa had led her
away. A few minutes later she had fainted in the draw-
ing-room, but by the time Oliver had been called to her
she had recovered, and was angry with herself for caus-
ing so much trouble. Oliver had sent her home at once
in his car, declaring that she must consider herself his
patient.
It was chiefly of her Oliver thought as he walked home-
wards, of life not of death. After all, Ockenden was a
mere acquaintance with whom he had little in common,
whereas Estelle Bocara was part of himself. The fact
that a few hours ago he had not known of her existence
33


34
THE IVORY DISC
mattered nothing, the inevitable moment of meeting had
come, and henceforth their destinies were linked together.
Until now life had meant to Bruce Oliver power and energy
to concentrate on those problems in his profession which
he had set himself to study; tonight the goal which he had
deliberately chosen seemed unimportant. He was in touch
with something infinitely greater, some great purpose,
something he did not understand yet accepted without ques-
tion. He was on the threshold of a revelation waiting to
be fully initiated. He was not in the least conscious of
love, therefore the thought of Professor Bocara did not
trouble him.
Oliver let himself into his house in Hobart Place and
went to his study. He opened the letters which had come
by a late post, noted appointments without feeling any
interest in them. His mind was wholly with Estelle.
She was his patient, tomorrow he would see her. He
realized that he did not know where she lived. Sir Charles
had given Williams the address while he had been making
her comfortable in the car. It did not matter, Williams
would know where to drive tomorrow. Then he caught
sight of a single glove lying on his table. A servant must
have picked it up and put it there. It was Ockenden's,
of special color, with special stitching, made for him, and
eccentric as was everything else about the poet. He must
have dropped it when he left after lunch. It brought the
night's tragedy forcibly back to Oliver's mind; the whole
scene, every incident in it, came back in its due order with
photographic clearness like a film on a screen. As he had
pronounced Ockenden dead he had lookeù up, had seemed
to take in at a glance the attitude of each guest. He re-
membered thinking that Lady Dealtry was not so calm
as he expected she would be, and that Bennett, who was
the cause of the poet's excitement, did not seem to believe


THE IVORY DISC
35
his statement. Then he had looked again at the dead man,
recalling his last words, his movements just before he fell
across the table. He looked at the glove now, and those
last words and movements came back to him with curious
insistency. It was as if the spirit of the dead man were
compelling him to think of them. A wild possibility
shaped itself in Oliver's mind, and in spite of a rush of
argument against it, he reached to the ultimate meaning of
such a possibility, and was afraid.
He took some brandy from the tantalus on the side-
board, and drank it neat, not as a man who drinks merely
but as one who swallows hastily a necessary dose of medi-
cine. Then, changing his dress coat for a jacket which
was stained and had seen much service, he went to a door
in the panelling of the room, which might easily escape
notice. There was no handle, a small key opened it, but
as Oliver put the key into the lock he paused.
“No, I am not fit to form any judgment tonight,” he
said, almost as if he were arguing with an unseen presence.
“Tomorrow, perhaps, or when I can fully concentrate upon
the investigation, but tonight, bed.”
No investigation had taken place when Williams drove
his master to call on Madame Bocara the following after-
noon.
Throwing out greedy tentacles of brick and mortar, Lon-
don is constantly devouring its rural surroundings, and
places where wealth was manifest quickly shows signs of
the struggle for existence. Old houses vanish, their
grounds become eligible building land, and pretentious
villas and dreary roads take the place of pleasant orchards
and shady gardens. Occasionally an old house remains,


36
THE IVORY DISC
shorn of most of its acres, looking strangely out of place
in its plebian surroundings.
Small villas adjoined the high walls which hid her house
from the road, and others stared at the high wall
from over the way. This wall was comparatively a recent
structure, the road having evidently been driven through
part of the grounds. Once within the gates, however, the
painfully modern aspect of the world without was for-
gotten. The old house, creeper clad and mellowed by time,
stood in a garden of trimmed lawns, of flower beds bright
with color, of winding paths and shady trees.
As Oliver walked up the short drive he did not take
much notice of his surroundings. He felt the necessity
of getting himself well in hand, for he was conscious of
keen excitement. Today he could not detach himself and
the woman from the rest of the world as easily as he had
done last night. The man in him had become assertive,
the veil of mystery about her could not conceal the fact
that she was a woman. This well ordered house and gar-
den might be the setting of an ordinary woman, it sug-
gested a lower level than Oliver had imagined, a meaner
attitude of mind, it emphasized the ordinary world and its
judgment; it gave importance to Estelle Bocara's husband,
and was a reminder that if love be unlawful men and
women may touch sordid depths.
The night had brought thoughts of love to Bruce Oliver,
wholly against his will. If he loved it was not as other
men, he argued, it was mentally not physically. With all
his learning and experience he failed to see the pitfall of
considering himself an exception. Some great passion may
link two souls in a spiritual union, but not often is this
so, more often passion brings mad and unlawful impulse
wrecking lives and begetting infamy. No one knew this
better than Bruce Oliver.
..


THE IVORY DISC
The mysterious again held sway when the door was
opened by an Oriental, dark of skin, suave, deferential in
manner, his tread as light and silent as if he stepped on
thick folds of velvet. His master was expecting Dr. Oliver,
he said, as he led the way across a spacious and dim hall.
He spoke softly as if he were afraid of waking some
slumbering secret in the house.
As Oliver entered the room a man rose quickly from a
low armchair, and came forward to meet him with a smile
of welcome and an outstretched hand.
“I am glad, very glad to know you, Dr. Oliver. Some-
thing of your work I have been aware of for a long time.”
Professor Bocara was a small, slightly built man, with
delicate clear-cut features. His hands and feet might
have been a woman's, yet there was nothing effeminate
about him. There was a suggestion of strength in him, he
was intensely alive, he was vigor and health personified.
Dark, penetrating eyes gave a look of pallor to his olive skin,
his mouth was purposeful, his voice soft and seductive.
Princely breed might be his. He looked a student, fitted
into the book-lined room which was Oriental in tone with
an atmosphere of peace and seclusion in it, a place for
meditation and thought. Oliver had expected a very dif-
ferent type of man, a much older man, and had to rid him-
self of preconceived ideas, always a difficult process.
"I trust Madame Bocara is better," he said, seating him-
self in the chair the professor drew forward.
“She is quite well. As a doctor you are not required,
no, not at all; as a friend, why yes.”
He spoke English with a curious intonation. Like his
wife he seemed to feel for his words.


38
THE IVORY DISC
“I am glad. I thought perhaps "
“I know, she has told me. It'was nothing, a little faint-
ness. It was kind of you to send her home in your car."
“Such a sudden death was a shock to all of us,” said
Oliver.
“And to my wife, death, even to talk of it, is painful.
Of course I do not understand that. My attitude of mind
is so different. To me death is just a happening and does
not much matter."
“I should have thought Madame's attitude would have
been much the same-judging by her conversation, I mean."
“Ah, Dr. Oliver, you must remember she is a woman,
and women do not so readily act on their natural lines
as men do. You cannot be so sure of them. They are
greater and less than men, but for the ordinary judgments
of life not so reliable. They are individual, they seldom
act well together.”
“Once I should have agreed with you,” said Oliver, “But
I fancy this war is teaching us a lot of new facts about
women."
“Yes, they have been splendid, and along lines other
than their natural ones. Woman is splendid, but as I
have said unexpected. War will end and then-then again
she will do the unexpected. And all this talk from me
just because I speak of my wife's attitude towards death,
and I finish by explaining nothing. I have met this poet
Ockenden once, and I have thrilled at his Empire Songs.
He will be a great loss. It is good for a country to have
her glory sung so finely. What caused his death ?”
“I am not sure,” said Oliver.
“I like to hear you say that, it is so honest, so great.
Doctors will so seldom admit ignorance, and many poor
patients suffer in consequence no doubt. I wish I had been
at Lady Dealtry's last night, the conversation must have


THE IVORY DISC
39
been interesting, but I was a little unwell. Your climate
is not always good for me."
"I did not know Ockenden well,” said “Oliver. “I
should want to know more about his past health and his
tory before giving an opinion as to the cause of his death."
"My wife has told me everything. He became excited.
The poet is not like other men. His genius touches un-
known forces and may release powers he is unable to con-
trol.”
"I do not quite follow you,” Oliver returned, wonder-
ing how much Estelle had really told her husband.
“You do not find me practical, ah, but is it not a foolish
word, this practical, marking limits where there are none.
I think you must agree that man's nature is a battleground
whereon rival powers are constantly struggling for the
mastery."
Oliver acquiesced with an inclination of the head. Ordi.
narily the conversation would have interested him, but
today it stood in the way of his seeing Estelle. He began
to wonder whether the Professor intended that he should
not see her. He might possess great influence over his
wife. The beliefs which she had uttered last night might
be only the reflection of his, and it was just possible she
had told him everything, even of their intimate conversa-
tion.
“Every man,” Bocara went on, “being free-willed,
brings his own personality to bear upon the struggle, and
so we face a problem of the resultant of forces. If a man
is on the side of evil, evil may suddenly claim him.”
“You go beyond me, Professor. I am of the West.”
“But you are of those who grasp far and wide for
truth, and the West begins to learn something from the
East, although still despising it. Indeed, yes, it is beyond
denial,” Bocara persisted as Oliver made a gesture of dis-


40
THE IVORY DISC
sent. “Because in the East men have looked deeper into the
unknown, the West either considers them as fools to be
pitied or as charlatans to be laughed at. I am of East
and West, an unfortunate heritage, for by both I am a little
despised.”
“I cannot believe that, Professor.”
“Still it is so. I am a strange mixture. My father was
Egyptian, but there was a current of French blood in his
veins which has had its effect upon me. He was a rest-
less man, a traveller, and found his wife in India. There was
a Persian strain in her. She was high-born, my mother,
and connects me with princes in India. Mentally and phys-
ically I bear the marks of my strange parentage."
Oliver smiled. Bocara was boring him.
“And that is not all. Education has mixed me still
more. I was sent to England, to Cambridge, where I dis-
tinguished myself, and then I travel in Europe so that
I may speak freely in many tongues. I love France, the
great soul of her, and in Germany I find amusement in their
boastfulness and strange philosophy which has made this
war. It is really a religious war although no one calls it
so. In Egypt I join with a party of excavators and learn
much, then I go to Persia, and Arabia, and into China, but
it is India that I love most—my birth land, where my father
and my mother lived and passed on. Then I married.”
Oliver was keenly interested at once.
“Ah, you wonder why I have such a wife, everybody
does. Why not have married one of my own people, they
ask. But you see, Doctor, I really have no people. It
was a difficult position.”
“I can hardly express an opinion," said Oliver.
“Yet there is speculation in your eyes," and Bocara
smiled. “When such beauty might have made some splen-
did match, why does it belong to a teacher of Oriental


THE IVORY DISC
41
languages? That is the common speculation. Together
my wife and I sometimes laugh at it."
Oliver could not believe this was true, but he made no
comment. He waited for Bocara to tell him more.
“So you see, Doctor, you have interested yourself in a
very strange couple, unlike any other you know.”
“And I am fortunate, Professor.”
“Ah, it is too early to decide, our acquaintance is so
young. I will explain one thing. Because I teach Ori-
ental languages it does not mean that I must do so to live.
This house could not be mine from the little lessons I give.
No, I teach because it brings me in contact with men who
are thinking, who are doing things, who are making the
future. Today I make a new acquaintance and am glad.
Now we will go to my wife. She will give us tea."
Remembering last night Oliver felt that he ought to
consider himself a potential scoundrel. With a different
type of man he would have done so, but Bocara seemed so
conscious of dominating the situation, so satisfied with him-
self, that the fighting instinct in Oliver was aroused. He
felt that Bocara had marked out for him certain limits
of friendship, perhaps already suspicious of the real reason
which had brought him to the house today, and Oliver de-
termined that he would be guided only by the woman.
Ordinary conventions could have no place in a house like
this, in the atmosphere of such a man as Bocara. To some
extent undoubtedly Estelle had been influenced by her hus-
band, but Oliver could not believe she was merely his
reflection in thought. Her personality was as distinct as
his; it was her own creed she had uttered last night not
his; there could not be the unity between them which
Bocara suggested; Oliver felt antagonistic, and even specu-


42
THE IVORY DISC
lated whether he might not be a deliverer from some hor-
rible bondage under which the woman lived. He was too
much absorbed in the mystery of this affair to remember
that such an idea has been the excuse of most unlawful
loves. It is the easiest thing in the world to give the part
of ogre to the husband.
As Bocara opened the door both men came to a standstill
on the threshold. Framed in an arched corridor reached
by three steps from the hall, stood Estelle. She was sim-
ply dressed in white, a scarlet flower tucked into her waist-
band.
“I thought you were never coming,” she said.
Her eyes were fixed on Bruce Oliver, and he might have
heard some hidden meaning in her greeting had not his
whole attention been given to a sudden discovery. As she
spoke she threw out her arms in a foreign, almost exag-
gerated welcome, but it was curiously familiar to Oliver.
She was the same woman he had seen in Richmond Park
yesterday morning, flecked with sunlight as she stood in
an attitude of abandoned invocation. It was strange he
should not have made the discovery before and yet under-
standable. Last night she had been richly Oriental, in the
morning as now she had been simply dressed, just a per-
fect specimen of young womanhood, no jewels at her throat,
no gold and ruby flame in her hair, and the only ring she
wore was the plain circle which proclaimed her a wife.
He had not been close enough to her in the park to see
her clearly, and last night he had marvelled that two
women should have influenced him on the same day when
all his life had been passed outside woman's influence.
There was only one woman, he had only seen two phases
of the same personality. The next moment the great Dane
came along the corridor and stood beside his mistress.
She glanced down at him quickly, for he growled.


THE IVORY DISC
43
“Quiet, Karac!”
“You have that brute in the house again,” Bocara ex-
claimed. “I ordered
She turned sharply towards him. The action made
Bocara pause, and Oliver wondered if they would have
quarreled had he not been there. Bocara was angry, his
wife calm and a little indifferent.
“Yes, in my room,” she said. “I thought I closed the
door to keep him there. Marie! Marie!”
In answer to her call a French maid came along the
corridor.
“Take Karac, Marie. Take him back to his kennel.
Good dog! He shall come in again presently. He inter-
rupts my welcome, Dr. Oliver,” she said, coming down the
three steps with extended hand. “He was not growling
at you or I would have whipped better manners into him.
The Professor hates dogs and Karac knows it. That is
why he growled.”
“I do not hate dogs, only that dog, and "
“I wanted him in my room today. I was alone and
wanted him, so he came. I did not intend that you should
see him. I would not have him frighten you, but of
course he must come to my room when I want him.”
“It is nothing, Estelle, it does not matter," said Bo-
cara, and it seemed to Oliver that he was afraid of offend-
ing his wife.
"But it is something that you have kept Dr. Oliver in
your room,” she laughed. “It was to see me he came,
and he has been too long making your acquaintance on the
way. Shall we go to tea ?”
She led the way across the hall to a large room with win-


THE IVORY DISC
dows looking on to the garden, bright with color, and with
the long shadows of afternoon on the lawn. The room was
Oriental, luxurious but with no suggestion of the museum
about it. These costly things from the East had not been
merely collected and used in a decorative scheme, they
were part of the integral life of the house. In a recess,
almost a small room in itself, was a grand piano, opened
and with music on it. To Oliver there was a certain sense
of unreality about the woman standing by the low tea-
table which sparkled with costly china and old silver. She
was of today, of the moment almost, charming but not mys-
terious, a well-bred woman of the world entertaining an
ordinary guest, very beautiful but not the woman he had
expected. Last night they had been soul to soul, affinities;
today he was of no special interest to her.
“I need not ask if you are better,” he said presently.
“I am quite well. I was myself when I arrived home,"
and she glanced at her husband for confirmation.
"I should not have known anything had happened,” he
said. “I have been saying, Estelle, that we need no
doctor, but welcome a friend of whom we hope to see
much.”
He had not been so explicit as this. He waited for his
wife to agree with him, but she seemed indifferent, wholly
engaged in selecting a fancy cake from a silver basket.
“Yes, we must certainly be friends,” Bocara went on.
“We shall agree in many things yet differ sufficiently
to strike sparks from each other's mentality. And there
are many things in this house I shall take delight in show-
ing you, things unique, in England at any rate."
“It is very beautiful,” Oliver said. “You have set-
tled in England for good, I presume."
"For good is a very, very long while,” he said with a
shrug of his shoulders. “It will depend upon my wife.”


THE IVORY DISC
Bocara glanced at her but she showed no interest in what
he was saying.
“She suddenly grows tired of a place and the people
in it, then we go. It has always been the same."
"Perhaps it is your own roving spirit which yearns for
change,” said Oliver.
“Ah no, for our sudden departures, Madame is respon-
sible.”
He spoke almost as if Estelle were not there, yet evi-
dently he was very conscious of her presence, and Oliver
got the impression that in some way he was endeavoring
to impose his will upon her.
“I have been thinking, Estelle -today week, might not
the Doctor dine with us today week? Just ourselves, a
trio. It would be very pleasant.”
Today week,” she mused, as if she had to consider
many engagements. “Yes, you will dine with us that
night, won't you, Dr. Oliver?”
“I shall be delighted.”
Her manner changed. She deftly turned the conversa-
tion to general topics. She did not refer to last night's
tragedy, she seemed to have forgotten last night alto-
gether. She led the conversation and her husband agreed
with everything she said: indeed, as they talked of travel,
of books, of art, of people, it seemed to Oliver that Bocara
was subservient and considered his wife his superior.
Surely hers was the dominant personality however he
might strut in private. Almost a slavish deference was in
his manner now, and he seemed gratified at any small at-
tention she gave him. It was as if he had entered into
competition for her favors, and Oliver could easily have
pitied him had he himself been the recipient of any special
attention. There was no need for pity on this score.
Estelle was as beautiful and as entirely fascinating as she


46
THE IVORY DISC
had been last night, but she was quite different. By no
stretch of imagination could Bruce Oliver imagine that she
had the slightest interest in him beyond that she might have
for any visitor. There was no suggestion that he had any
significance for her whatever. She talked and laughed like
a clever, happy woman filling the room with a sweet per-
sonality, but she struck no deep note.
Oliver did not understand her and was a little resentful.
He was as completely under her influence as he had been
last night, but there was something meaner and lower in
it, less a mental attraction than a physical. Last night he
had been conscious only of the inevitable and seen no dan-
ger, now the danger was clear to him, and he realized that
he must not come to Lantern House if he would avoid
making a fool of himself. A three-cornered situation did
not appeal to him. The dark-skinned man watching her,
as he himself was watching her, was her husband. It was
a horrible fact, but Oliver faced it. Possibly his wife loved
him and was content to be the spoilt darling of this rich
man from the East. Bocara was not astonished at her
attitude, he was evidently accustomed to it. Perhaps he
was aware that his guest had expected something differ-
ent and inwardly rejoiced at his disappointment. Why
was she so different from the woman of last night, yet in a
subtle, incomprehensible way the same? Palgrave's
laughing warning that she might come in native dress re-
curred to Oliver, and suggested moods and inconsistencies
in her. Was she something of an actress, fond of dressing
and playing a part? She had been more priestess than
anything else last night, why play such a part as that?
The speculation sent Oliver's mind racing on a strange
mental journey, one he had no desire to take.
"Dr. Oliver.”
She had suddenly spoken to him in that low intense


THE IVORY DISC
47
voice which from the first he had realized was not meant
for trivialities. Not once had he heard it this afternoon.
Again the woman and child was mingled in her, knowl-
edge and innocence, as she looked at him exactly as she
had done last night.
“Dr. Oliver, it was very good of you to lend me your
car. I have talked much but have not yet thanked you.
You were very good to-to a stranger. Please do not con-
tradict me,” she went on quickly, almost as if she were
afraid of what Oliver might say, “I was a stranger, and
in India, especially in certain parts of India, care for the
stranger is—is rewarded, if possible.”
“But Estelle "
She waved her husband's objection aside.
“It is a custom which has always appealed to me, and
you must let me have my own way, Dr. Oliver. I am not
accustomed to be denied. It is only a little thing, a trink-
let which no one would buy, of no intrinsic value, yet it
has worth or I should not give it.”
She held out her hand to him. Lying in her upturned
palm was a small, oval disc of ivory, out of which, but
not in the centre, a piece in the shape of a parallelogram
had been cut. Across this opening were two thin silver
bars so placed that they formed, unconsciously or by de-
sign, a Christian cross. On the ivory several hieroglyphics
were lightly cut and had been stained to make them clearly
visible. There was a silver ring to suspend it by. Cer-
tainly it possessed neither intrinsic value nor artistic
merit.
The moment Bocara saw what it was she intended to give
he rose to his feet in hasty protest.


THE IVORY DISC
49
inclined to refuse the gift which seemed to thrust him
between man and wife, this trinket which the professor
was so anxious he should not have; now his whole being,
without volition of his own, was in antagonism to this man.
He felt no anger, only deliberate opposition. It was per-
sonal and had nothing to do with the woman.
“I shall wear it believing that the virtue remains," he
said, putting the ivory disc in his pocket as he rose.
Estelle smiled contentedly and held out her hand. Now
she had got her way she seemed anxious to bring his visit
to an end.
"Then we shall see you this day week,” she said. “At
eight o'clock."
It was curious, Oliver reflected as he was driven home-
wards, that the moment he approached some definite
opinion concerning Estelle Bocara, a change in her scat-
tered all his ideas, compelling him to reconsider her per-
sonality. Was she a creature of superlatives in manner
and in speech, or was there some profound reason for the
difference between the woman of the tea-table and the
mystic who had spoken to his soul last night and had given
him the amulet today? What was her history? What
strange fate had linked her to a man like Professor Bo-
cara? Personal antagonism to the man remained with
Oliver, and the fact gave Bocara increased importance.
He had sped his departing guest with the utmost courtesy
and friendship, as though the awkward position of a few
moments ago had not occurred, but what had he done
when the door was closed? His oscillations between at-
tempts at mastery and the subserviency of a slave were
curious. Estelle's power and influence over him appeared


50
THE IVORY DISC
to be great, but were they sufficient protection against the
man in whose eyes he had seen such savage anger? Oliver
began to imagine horrors. If virtue were in the amulet
she had perhaps far more need of its protection than he
had.
He took out the ivory disc and looked at it, not because
Estelle had given it to him but because she believed in its
efficiency. Did he? Two days ago he would have laughed
at such a question. Like most men born into a fixed creed,
learning it and its attendant responsibilities in childhood,
much as he had learned his Latin grammar, he had grown
up in that faith. He was not a religious man in the ac-
cepted meaning of the word, but in the widest sense he
was a believer—a believer in ultimate good. The Chris-
tian faith he believed to be the highest form of truth, but
he was very doubtful whether man truly understood it.
He held that priestcraft, and the emphasizing of certain
tenets to meet difficult times in the Church's history which
were past, had gradually raised upon a foundation which
in itself was sure, much that obscured the real truth, and
led men into a narrow groove of thought utterly antago-
nistic to true religion. He did not conceive it possible
that any man, or any band of men, could be wholly right,
and all others wrong; he conceived that all forms of re-
ligion, as practised and understood, were parts of the
great and eternal whole. Faith was for babes, but it was
also for the most profound scholars the world could pro-
duce; how then could any man made creed contain all
truth? Many roads lead into the great highway of truth,
Estelle Bocara had said last night, and it expressed in a
sentence Bruce Oliver's faith and religion. Her words
came to him now as he looked at the amulet. Nothing was
impossible, to admit it would be to deny Almighty power.
It was not impossible that virtue and protection lay in


THE IVORY DISC
51
this trinket of ivory and silver. Fools might call it super-
stition, but then fools were always ready to be scornful
of what they did not understand.
In Piccadilly Oliver stopped the car and bought a thin
but strong gold chain, and when he got home he fastened
the amulet round his neck.


CHAPTER IV
“I am never likely to judge you by the world's standard,
I have been too near the fighting line to judge any
man that way."
THAT Anthony Ockenden had died suddenly at Lennox
Lodge inclined many of those who had scoffed at the
“Lion's Den” to a greater appreciation of Lady Dealtry's
place in the literary world. She must be of some importance
or she would not be entertaining so distinguished a guest.
The fact that Ockenden was dead caused considerable
excitement, the manner of his death was hardly commented
upon, and for a day, at least, eulogies of the poet occupied
as much space in the papers as the war news. Undoubt-
edly he was a true poet, but many critics were not content
with this; they declared that his more serious work, not
so well known, was full of that new thought and insight
which were destined to be the guiding principles of the
world of tomorrow. Ockenden was called the chief star
in that group of younger writers who alone stood for prog-
ress in poetry, prose and the drama, and a list of a dozen
names, some of them almost unknown to the general pub-
lic, was given of men whose achievements were relegating
the work of their immediate predecessors to oblivion, and
proving the majority of their contemporaries to be mere
pedlars in stagnation.
52


THE IVORY DISC
53
Whether Anthony Ockenden had been gratified by the
adulation of this school was exceedingly doubtful. His
attitude had always been individualistic, and it is cer-
tain that his literary fame rested on better and cleaner
work than most of the members of this school had pro-
duced, or were capable of producing.
2
Gerald Palgrave with a heap of newspapers beside him
was discussing the merits of the poet at Lennox Lodge with
Sir Charles and Philippa, Lady Dealtry was thoughtful
and expressed no opinion. She had not been able to shake
off the horror of the tragedy which had happened in her
house, had been silent and preoccupied, and had spent most
of her time in her own room.
“Well, I confess surprise at the unanimity of the crit-
ics,” said Palgrave.
“Probably that is because you knew him personally,"
returned Philippa. “You cannot separate the man from
his work."
“Prejudice is easy I grant, but so is over statement."
“And criticism is often more concerned with itself than
with its subject,” said Sir Charles. “What I have read
of Ockenden I admire. I must know more of him before
I feel competent to give a definite opinion as to his ul-
timate value. At present I am not inclined to place
Shelley and Browning, and even one or two others, on such
a top shelf that I cannot get at them.”
“We are more concerned with the man than his work,"
said Lady Dealtry suddenly, as if the discussion irritated
her. “When is the inquest?”
“Tomorrow," Palgrave answered.
“You will find that emphasis will be laid on the fact
that he died in this house," Lady Dealtry went on. "It


THE IVORY DISC
55
graphed to you at the last moment, you remember, because
someone had fallen through. The Lorrimers were here,
Heath and the Everests, Dr. Oliver, Professor Bennett-no,
he disappointed me and you took his place."
“Was Oliver here?''
“Yes. He left early, directly after dinner. He hasn't
been here since until the other night.”
“Why make such a point of Oliver's presence ?” Şir
Charles asked with some irritation.
“To be quite candid I thought his manner rather strange
the other night,” said Palgrave.
“What rubbish.”
“I thought so too, father,” said Philippa.
"That does not make it any the less rubbish.”
"He gave me the impression that he had seen a similar
death before," said Palgrave, “that he realized it was not
an ordinary seizure. You will remember, Sir Charles, that
no definite opinion was to be got out of him. He seemed
very careful how he answered the questions of the police.
Not once did he make any suggestion and took the initia-
tive with evident reluctance. That is not a bit like Bruce
Oliver.”
“You are remembering all the nonsense people have
talked about him," said Sir Charles.
“I must say I agree with Gerald,” said Lady Dealtry.
“I thought he was so fascinated with Estelle Bocara that
he found it impossible to concentrate on anything else,”
said Philippa.
“Your idea borders on immorality,” answered her
father. “Bruce Oliver wasn't meeting a clever and pretty
woman for the first time in his life, and I know no man
less likely to make a fool of himself.”
“Exactly. That is why I noticed it so particularly,"
said Philippa.


56
THE IVORY DISC
“I am making no accusation against Oliver,” Palgrave
went on. “I am supposing he had some reason for his
reticence. He may know a great deal more about Ocken-
den than we do Philippa's reason for his curious atti-
tude had not occurred to me.”
“I do not admit there was anything curious about him,"
said Sir Charles.
“Philippa's is possibly the explanation,” said Lady
Dealtry, “but it does not help us to understand the con-
nection between Ockenden's death and Scrivener's."
“Take my word for it, there is none,” returned her hus-
band.
"I am sorry I cannot accept that as a statement of fact,
Charles; I wish I could. Unfortunately I appear to be in
opposition to most of the opinions you express today.
Estelle is not clever only unusual, and pretty does not de-
scribe her. She is beautiful. And in my experience the
greatest folly is always committed by the very man you
least expect to make a fool of himself.”
“Indirectly, at any rate, we are getting rather personal
and indiscreet,” said Sir Charles. “We have no right
to talk as we are doing. Estelle Bocara is a married
woman."
"That does not make her less fascinating, father,” said
Philippa.
“And might possibly add to her attractiveness if Bruce
Oliver is inclined to make a fool of himself,” said Lady
Dealtry.
“We are imaginative this evening,” said Sir Charles,
going out of the window on to a balcony as if a breath of
fresh air were necessary to him.
Steps led down to a small patch of garden which was
full of fitful moonlight. There was hardly a murmur of
the distant traffic. In a house nearby a man was singing.


THE IVORY DISC
57
“Listen!" Palgrave exclaimed. “That is one of Ock-
enden's love lyrics."
“Living thought,” Philippa whispered. “It is not very
easy to believe in death."
The inquest on Anthony Ockenden caused some sensa-
tion, but not of the kind Lady Dealtry had anticipated.
The fact that the death had taken place at Lady Dealtry's
dinner table caused no comment, and John Scrivener's
name was not mentioned. The post-mortem revealed that
the internal organs were diseased, old before their time,
worn out. Hard living had been undermining the man's
constitution for years, and an extra strain of excitement
had served to bring the breaking point. It was suggested
that he might have been a drug taker, but there was no
trace of drugs in the body, although the heart was in a
condition for which it was difficult to account. It might
be an obscure form of disease. The doctors who made the
post-mortem were doubtful on the point, and in his evi-
dence Dr. Oliver was unable to make any suggestion. He
had met Anthony Ockenden on several occasions, and the
deceased had lunched with him on the day of his death.
He had not been in an excited condition then. He had
become rather excited by the discussion in the evening,
and Oliver agreed with the other doctors that a very small
thing might prove fatal to a man in his abnormal condition.
A juryman was persistent in asking whether Dr. Oliver
had formed any opinion of the cause of death when he
saw the sudden collapse at the dinner table. Oliver said
he had not. It was easy to attribute death to heart dis-
ease, but no medical man would definitely do so without
further examination, or without knowing something of a


58
THE IVORY DISC
patient's general state of health. He was not Ockenden's
medical man; the dead man had been no more than a
casual acquaintance and he knew nothing whatever of the
kind of life he had led. The verdict that death was due
to natural causes was the only one possible.
Even after the inquest the actual circumstances of Ock-
enden's death might have been more fully discussed, had
not a further sensation developed out of the enquiry.
Before there was time to trace or dispute the first rumors,
the news had become an incontestible fact. Ockenden had
been far more than eccentric, he had been absolutely dis-
solute. He had lived a triple existence. There had been
periods of solitude and isolation during which, no doubt,
his real work had been accomplished; and these had been
followed by a round of dissipation, when he had appeared
at private and public entertainments, often drinking too
much, genius and buffoon by turn, making many enemies
yet always advertising himself. And there were other
times when the poet set no limit to his excesses, when he
revelled in haunts which were shunned even by the ordi-
narily vicious, in hells one shrank even from mentioning,
and for days, sometimes for weeks together, the man who
could touch the sublime sank into the lowest depths of
beastiality.
The truth was a terrible shock to the men and women
in whose houses the poet had been received as an honored
guest. In the outburst of righteous anger both truth and
error were exaggerated and distorted.
Bruce Oliver read every line of comment, and spent long
hours in his laboratory. He avoided the club where he
knew he was likely to be questioned, and limited his recrea-
tion to a solitary walk in the afternoon.
On


THE IVORY DISC
59
He returned from his walk one afternoon to find Nurse
Houghton waiting for him.
“Hallo! Little Mother, what can I do for you?” he ex-
claimed.
“Nothing. I have come to try and do something for
you."
He had called her Little Mother for a long time past.
A mother she was by nature although fate had denied her
a home with children in it. Their friendship had begun
when she had nursed him through a severe illness years
ago, and in some of his cases which had occasioned con-
troversy she had nursed for him. Probably no one knew
more of Bruce Oliver than Martha Houghton, and cer-
tainly no one appreciated him so nearly at his true value.
A wide-minded, large-souled woman, she realized the worth
of his work and yet saw clearly that much of the criticism
hurled at it was partly his own fault, due to the manner
and attitude he adopted towards his critics and the world
generally. Often she had fought his battles, denying the
stories which he would not take the trouble to deny him-
self, and on more than one occasion she had pointed out
to him that no man could afford to treat the world's opinion
with the indifference he did.
Oliver put her into the most comfortable chair.
“I suppose another lecture is due," he said. “Even in
the stress of your work in Serbia you have been preparing
one for me.”
“No. I only thought of you once or twice out there,
when doctors decided that operation was useless. I
thought you would have risked it and—and succeeded."
"I took some risks while I was in France with most
interesting results,” he returned. “Some day I must tell
you about them.”
“My time in Serbia seems to have cast an heroic halo


THE IVORY DISC
about me," she went on. “I am supposed to be resting,
recuperating, but incidentally I am becoming quite a per-
sonage at war-time entertainments. You met me at the
Dealtrys' a week ago, and yesterday I was at the Lori-
mers.”
“Lorimer. Oh, yes, I remember Miss Lorimer, a tall
thin woman with knobbly hips who goes about the world
trying to find out how the other people in it are misbe-
having themselves.”
“That is a little hard, perhaps, but there is some truth
in it. Yesterday Anthony Ockenden’s death was talked
about.”
“Naturally."
“So were you."
“The same old, time-worn stories, I suppose, and I am
willing to wager you took up the cudgels on my behalf.”
“The suggestions went further than usual, Dr. Oliver. I
Someone said that John Scrivener had died immediately
after dining at the Dealtrys'. Did he?”
“I believe he did,” Oliver answered.
“Somebody else remarked on the coincidence that
Scrivener had consulted you only a day or two before his
death, that Ockenden lunched with you on the day of his
death, and that you were present at the Dealtrys' on both
occasions.”
“Miss Lorimer must have enjoyed herself thoroughly,"
Oliver remarked.
“The suggestions did not come from her," said Nurse
Houghton. "They were of the 'I hear,' and 'Is it true'
order, so difficult to pin down. People who were at the
Dealtrys' must have talked. It was the general opinion
that your behavior was curious the other night, and that,
had you chosen to do so, you could have given more useful
information at the inquest.”


THE IVORY DISC
“Did I behave curiously?”.
“I am bound to say yes. You were not a bit yourself
all the evening. Frankly, I think I know why."
“Enlighten mº, Little Mother."
“I thought that woman, Madame Bocara, had be-
witched you."
“I admit she interested me. I think she must have
interested everyone there."
“One thing is quite certain, Dr. Oliver. Insinuations
are being made that you cannot ignore. You cannot af-
ford to treat them with your don't-care-a-damn attitude.
Forgive the expression, but you have got to understand the
seriousness of the position."
“I do not see what I can do unless someone definitely
accuses me of having caused the death of Scrivener or
Ockenden, or both of them."
“You must take the trouble of seizing upon someone
who has been busy repeating these tales and then go for
him, or her, for all you are worth. Yes, I honestly believe
the position is as serious as that.”
“There is another side to the question,” Oliver said
after a thoughtful pause. “I may not want to say any-
thing."
“I have thought of that,” she answered. “No, not ac-
cusing you, only just wondering.”
“When doubts trouble you, it is not remarkable that the
people who resent me are inclined to talk, is it?" he said
with a smile. "Scrivener had consulted me, and I had
advised complete rest from public life for a time. He died,
I believe, from the sudden failure of a weak heart. I had
warned him of the danger of overwork and excitement.
You know, probably as well as I do, that Ockenden’s death
has yet to be explained. We know now that his mode of
life had undermined his constitution, but that does not


THE IVORY DISC
To Oliver there was something unnatural in the situa-
tion. He could not think of himself as an ordinary visitor,
he had no place there on a familiar footing. There should
be something cataclystic in his intercourse with Estelle
Bocara, otherwise it sank to the low level of intrigue..
When she at last rose from the table she reminded them
that she was alone tonight. They must not be long in
joining her.
“Only a few moments, Estelle," said her husband, as
Oliver opened the door for her. She passed out without
looking at him.
“A cigarette, Doctor?”.
"Shall you mind if I smoke one of my own! I like
them mild.”
“Not at all. Mine are especially made for me and are
perhaps a little strong. I smoke too many of them I fear.
Sometimes Madame reproves me. You admire my wife,
Dr. Oliver.”
The words came slowly and deliberately. They were not
a question, but a statement of fact, and Oliver's square
jaw set a little more firmly. He had exercised careful con-
trol over himself during dinner, but it was evident the
penetrating eyes which looked steadily into his had spied
out something of his secret. Oliver was on his guard.
With his wife's departure Bocara's manner had changed;
some restraining force seemed to have been removed sud-
denly.
"I think anyone would find it extremely difficult not to
admire her,” Oliver said, taking longer than was neces-
sary to light his cigarette. “I can only be one amongst
a great many."
“Of course—a great many. She is a beautiful woman,
yes, and sometimes a little peculiar. It is necessary to
understand her. I have perfect understanding, but for


THE IVORY DISC
65
others it is difficult. They may most easily misinterpret
her meaning sometimes."
“I think, Professor "
“Ah, not for a moment do I suppose that you could do
80,” was the quick answer, although he seemed to feel for
the right word to express his meaning. "Do not mistake
me. You have studied men and women closely, you have
written about hysteria, and you know the many and vari-
ous forms it may take; naturally you would notice many
things which others would not observe. If—if you should
see much of my wife, you will discover little strangenesses
-how shall I name them ?-detachments, moments, even
periods of time when she appears to lose touch with her
surroundings, when she may speak strangely and do unex-
pected things."
“I have known such cases,” Oliver returned.
“Ah, yes, but I want to show you why my wife's is a
case apart. I said the other day that people marvelled why
I should be her husband. I let them wonder, but to you
I would explain.”
“Why make an exception of me? I am almost a
stranger,” Oliver said, challenging his host's attitude, and
instinctively shrinking from such a confidence.
"First because you are a doctor. Then, you are not
really a stranger since we have so much in common-per-
haps we do not yet know how much. And then because I
have seen your interest in Estelle, which you would hide
but cannot, which sets you apart from the many who ad-
mire her. You see there are many reasons why I explain
to you.”
There was not a trace of maliciousness in his voice, and
Oliver was doubtful what interpretation to put upon his
words. He shrank from any confidence, and yet he was
very anxious to know something of Estelle's history,


66
THE IVORY DISC
“I am interested,” he said, “very interested, but ought
we to keep Madame Boara waiting?"
“It must be told," said the Professor very definitely.
“Then there is time for another cigarette," Oliver re-
turned carelessly.
“I must make you understand the position at the out-
set,” Bocara began. “I spoke of myself a little the other
day, when I perceived that, like myself, you were not quite
a normal man.”
“Pardon me, but I claim to be quite normal.”
Bocara smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
“A traveller, one ever curious and ever ready to learn,
the East and West mingled in him—such am I. Some
things I have studied deeply, of others I have but skimmed
the surface. I both teach and learn. It is neccessary you
have a clear conception of me or you cannot comprehend
my position.”
He paused to knock the ash from his cigarette into a
silver dish on the table at his side.
"I was travelling in India, Dr. Oliver, and by chance
came to my wife's home in a fortunate hour. Her father
was an Englishman, named Savory; her mother of mixed
nationality, French predominant. This Savory was some
sort of missionary. I do not speak contemptuously, but
you seem to have so many religions in England, nearly
the same and yet different, that they confuse me. I do
not know exactly what he taught, but I judge he was a
man of wide mind, willing to learn something from those
he endeavored to teach. From what I heard it appeared
that he was well liked, and this made the affair inexplicable.
You see, Doctor, I did not know Savory."


THE IVORY DISC
“You never saw him?"
“Yes, yes, I saw him. Let me explain a little. He was
in Northern India, amongst the foothills of the Himalayas,
out of the beater track, amongst a people little known but
not dangerous. I gathered evidence that he had much en-
deared himself to this people, and his wife who had a
knowledge of medicine, had skilfully used her knowledge
so that both of them were looked up to with a kind of
reverence. This was the position, and it is not certain
what the man did to forfeit it. In some manner he managed
to desecrate a particularly sacred idol, whether by word
or deed I cannot say, but I think it must have been by
deed. Possibly he may have been a fanatic in this par-
ticular case, but I think it more likely that he acted in
ignorance. The thing was done, however, and religious
forces were let loose. You would probably call it super-
stition, you will forgive me for not thinking quite the
same, and for using the word religious. In the dusk of a
coming night stealthy men crept to the station and mur-
dered both Savory and his wife. I saw them afterwards,
but will not describe. Their daughter was a witness of
their deaths before she was knocked on the head. She
would have shared her parents' fate undoubtedly had not
my party arrived in time.”
“How awful!” Oliver exclaimed.
“Estelle was then twelve years of age," Bocara went
on, “old enough to fully appreciate the tragedy. It was
pitiable to see how the memory of that night remained
with her. It showed in every look, in everything she did.
You may understand how difficult was my position. She
had no one belonging to her, and she clung to me. I was
her deliverer from a horrible death, it was natural she
should hold to me.”
“Could she tell you of no friends 9"


68
THE IVORY DISC
“She had never known any. Her parents had lived in
complete isolation. Estelle was born in India, and the
many enquiries I have made at various times in England
and France hare failed to discover anyone who knows
anything about her. In those days I felt quite unequal
to having a child upon my hands, so I tried very hard
indeed to find some relation who would look after her.
The time came, Doctor, when I rejoiced that I had failed.”
Oliver understood, but found it impossible to say so, or
to show any sympathy. The man looking at him through
a blue haze of smoke ought to have nothing to do with
Estelle.
“I did my best,” said Bocara. “A duty had been
thrust upon me and I made a sacrifice. I ceased to travel.”
“You could have sent her to school.”
“No. You do not quite understand, Doctor. I have
said the child clung to me, but that does not really ex-
press her attitude. She was afraid if I went out of her
sight, to have sent her away from me would have killed
her, I think, or worse, driven her mad. She was taught,
partly by me, partly by others. In education, at least,
she has not been harmed by not going to school. In other
ways, it is true, she did not develop quite normally, but
can I be held responsible for that?”
“You should have sent her to Europe,” said Oliver.
“Why? By all that is holy, why?” and for a moment
there was fierce energy and opposition in Bocara as he
asked the question. “As a reasonable man can you claim
for the West any superior righteousness or wisdom in the
face of what is happening in Europe today?”
“Perhaps not,” Oliver admitted. “I was thinking con-
ventionally.” .
"Being of the East it was natural I should choose an
Eastern development for her. She was born in India,


THE IVORY DISC
69
remember. You must keep that in your mind if you would
understand. Gradually, very gradually, the memory of
her parents' tragedy became less vivid—but no, that is not
not quite true, rerhaps it is more correct to say that her
attitude towards the tragedy slowly changed. She was no
longer afraid. She seemed, in some strange way, to ap-
preciate the ideals which had influenced her father, and
yet was able to understand the attitude of his murderers,
and could think of them without anger. There was no
thought of revenge in her. There came a conviction that
truth and error had been mingled, had reached a point
where they clashed, and an absorbing desire took posses-
sion of her to show the real truth to all men who were
dwelling in ignorance of truth, or with a false idea of
truth. I wonder if you follow me, Doctor?”.
“I think so. I presume you fostered this attitude in
her?”
“Rather I stood aside," Bocara answered. "I did not
interfere, my beliefs would not allow it. You may call
me superstitious, but what you call superstition I call re-
ligion. Besides, there was no need to foster Estelle's
attitude of mind. She speedily went far beyond me.
What I was groping after she had grasped. The native
priests and philosophers quickly realized this, and to them
she became a sort of personification of Eastern thought, a
curiously complex personality. At times she was just a
normal girl, full of vivacity and laughter; at other times
she was silent, detached, holding communion with that
which is outside our knowledge. And so it is today.”
"It is difficult to understand," said Oliver.
"That is wisely said, humbly said, most doctors would
grow learned on mental abberrations and forms of hysteria.
I think you must appreciate my position and my difficulty.
Estelle was very dear to me. She was Eastern in thought


THE IVORY DISC
71
The keen penetrating eyes regarded Oliver steadily, and
there was a curious note of pleading in Bocara's voice, al-
most a confession of unworthiness.
“You are testing her, is that what you mean?"
"Perhaps."
“I think I understand,” said Oliver, who had an un-
pleasant feeling that a direct appeal was being made to
him.
“Do you! I wonder. I am trying to change places
with you, Doctor, and see if I should understand. It can-
not be very easy, but I will be very definite. In marrying
me Estelle gained the love of a man dedicated to books, to
study, to thought, to learning; a man not passionless but
full of purpose and concentration, a man capable of sacri-
fice and self-suppression—a friend. A woman, just be-
cause she is a woman, has never meant anything to me.
I do not explain, I only mention a fact. Estelle came and
touched chords in me which had never been set vibrating
before. She was a woman apart, wanting not love as other
women do. Presently it will be different. She is my very
dear companion, nothing more, always was—and is.”
“Why tell me all this?” Oliver asked curtly, resenting
a confidence which forced him into a false position.
“Have I not said already?” Bocara returned. “You
are a doctor, and since you remain unmarried, and are a
student and thinker, I imagine you are something like my-
self as regards women. Unless I tell you about my wife
it is not possible you can understand her, and I would not
have you misjudge her in any way. She is a woman
asleep. I am a man content to wait until she wakes."
Once more their eyes met across the table. If there had
been a note of appeal in the Professor's voice, it was out
of it now; instead, there was a veiled threat which aroused
in Bruce Oliver renewed antagonism against this man.


THE IVORY DISC
Was Estelle Bocara a woman asleep? At least she was
stirring in her sleep, might be at the very point of waking.
If on waking she should look into Bocara's eyes and see,
as Oliver saw, all that was meant by the fire in them, what
would the waking be to her? Surely it would bring her
to the threshold of madness.
"I quite understand,” said Oliver, throwing the dead
end of his cigarette into the silver ash tray.
"Then we will go and enjoy Estelle's music,” said Bo-
cara, rising from the table with a smile as though their
conversation had been of the most casual after-dinner kind.
From the depths of an Eastern lounge of soft cushions,
Estelle turned towards the two men as they entered. She
turned slowly, lazily, and made no attempt to rise. Their
entrance might have disturbed her from sleep. Her atti-
tude emphasized all that was Eastern in her, and repelled
Bruce Oliver. His conversation with Bocara, the sugges-
tion of rivalry, served to taint the atmosphere, seemed to
change an essence which had divine perfume in it to a heavy
languorous scene redolent of passion. The woman's atti-
tude accentuated the position.
“You have been a long time,” she said, looking at Oliver.
“We have become better acquainted,” Bocara remarked
carelessly.
“Have you talked of me?” she asked, still looking at
Oliver.
“Is there nothing else we should talk awout?" asked her
husband, laughing. “Are women enough to fill the whole
lives of men who are neither vain nor empty headed ?”
She paid no attention to him, she waited for Oliver's
answer, and it seemed to him that she must be aware of


THE IVORY DISC
73
their conversation, perhaps expected him to speak inti-
mately of what he had been told.
“Yes, we have talked of you," he said, “and now we
have disturbed you from sleep, I believe.”
“From dreams, not from sleep.”
Was she any longer asleep in the sense that Bocara had
indicated? Some meaning seemed to lie under her words
as if she already knew of the fires within ready to burst
into flame.
“Play to us, Estelle," Bocara said.
“Are you fond of music, Dr. Oliver ?” she asked.
"Is it not the universal language?” said Bocara,
“wherein all may understand something of those whose
who are alien to them in speech. At the opera who cares
what tongue is used? Only the music counts. Do you
remember in Paris, Estelle ?–Tristan? The great duet,
part of it-play that.”
“No, I do not play it,” she said, slipping from the
lounge, to avoid taking her husband's hand to help her up
it seemed to Oliver.
“But I have heard you play it.”
“Never since that night,” she said, as if something
which had happened then were the reason. "I play, Dr.
Oliver, in my own fashion, and seldom what I am asked
to play. To ask me for this or that is to make a machine
of me, a box of tricks, a piano player. Music must be
myself of the moment, as I feel, the speech of me which I
cannot put into words. That is music, the universal lan-
guage of which my husband speaks.”
She went to the piano which stood opta, and for a few
moments sat with her hands folded in her lap. Then she
struck a few plaintive chords which passed slowly into a
melody which breathed of the East, love in it, passion, per-
haps despair. With barely a pause between she passed to


74
THE IVORY DISO
a movement in a Beethoven sonata, then into some of the
Parsival music, and then into the weird strains of some
Russian or Hungarian dance. Presently Oliver felt sure
she was extempcrising, and if it were a reflection of her
soul, strange tumult must be there, yet a melody persisted,
sad but with possibilities of joy, a promise for the future.
She ceased as abruptly as she had begun. Conventional
thanks were impossible.
“I have played since childhood," she said, “but not
quite as others. I do not remember learning. In Vienna
I went to a great master. Had I been just an ordinary
woman he would have sent me away. He asked me some
questions, and he perceived that, from his point of view,
I should do him little credit as a pupil. I smiled and said
I would show him what music meant to me, and he listened.
He did not laugh because I broke all the rules of harmony.
He did not understand but he wanted to. He was a great
man. I remember he said there were no rules for perfec-
tion, and he would not undertake to teach me anything,
but would show me one or two things. To teach me would
be to spoil me, to rob of something I possessed, that is what
he said. So you see, Dr. Oliver, you must not compare me
with a great pianist. I cannot interpret. It is not what
the composer meant, but how he makes me think, that is
what I play."
“And I enjoy it although it is beyond me,” said Bo-
cara. "I wish we could have had some of the Tristan
duet. It was wonderfully sung in Paris that night. I hate
most things German, but their music—that has not been
beaten."
"Music must make you think, or it is of small value,"
Estelle went on. "To enjoy is something but it is not
enough. Music should produce something in you, color
your vision, have result. No art is worth anything with-


THE IVORY DISC
75
out that. If you read a book, and it does not raise thoughts
in you, your own thoughts not the author's, then the book
fails so far as you are concerned. It is the suggestive in
art which is the reality of art, else you could have no
better art than a correct photograph. Look at that,” and
she pointed to an exquisite piece of tapestry on the wall,
“there is no picture, only a design, intricate threads of
color crossing and recrossing one another. Is that all there
is in it? No. Like the threads, the artist's thoughts ran
hither and thither, meaning something, until the design
was complete. I have not the key to his meaning, but it
has a meaning for me. Shall I tell you? There is a blue
thread, so plain at first that it seems to give the hue of
blue to all the colors around it; gradually it fails, it is
still there but with difficulty, it looks as if it would end,
as if it must be overwhelmed by the riot of color about it.
You almost lose it, yet it persists, and at the end of it
is beginning to color everything with blue again. To me
it stands for truth persisting through all the gorgeous
errors which man has fashioned, and now, today, it begins
to prevail and presently shall color everything as from the
first it was meant to do."
“And Dr. Oliver sees only a piece of rather expensive
tapestry," said Bocara with a smile.
“Science usually works in spectacles,” Oliver answered,
"but Madame makes me take mine off. When my eyes
adjust their focus I think I shall see clearly, as I think
I understand the language of her music."
“Ah, for me it is easy to understand,” said Bocara.
“Estelle and I have lived in the same world, you are a
stranger in it, Dr. Oliver.”
Estelle, who had remained seated at the piano, got up
and returned to the lounge, sinking down in the cushions
as if her exortions had exhausted her, Conversation lan-


76
THE IVORY DISC
guished and soon afterwards Oliver rose to go. He thought
she was glad for him to go, possibly she was sufficiently
sensative to feel the antagonism which existed between
him and her husband. Oliver thanked them both for a
pleasant evening, but nothing was said of any future visit.
Estelle came to the door of the room, but no further; Bo-
cara saw him to the front door. It was a conventional
ending to an unconventional evening.
“Shall we study together tonight?” Bocara asked as
he returned to his wife.
"Not tonight,” she answered. She did not plead
fatigue, but she was very definite.
Bocara watched her as she crossed the hall and went up
the three steps to the corridor. From the balcony she
turned and looked down at him. He bowed to her, but
she neither smiled nor spoke. Usually he received a smil-
ing good-night.
"She is waking,” he said as he went to his study. “She
is waking fast. Powers Almighty grant my petition. I
have watched over her sleeping, honor me with her favor
when she fully wakes."
Far into the early hours of morning Bruce Oliver sat
in his study, thinking, mentally reaching forward in an en-
deavor to grasp something definite. The practical man
in him was struggling against the dreamer. He had called
himself a hard, practical man, that was his attitude to the
world at large, few recognized that there was anything
of the dreamer in him. He knew it himself, and some-
times considered it a weakness, yet had found relief in it,
a help to perfect sanity. Since meeting Estelle Bocara the
dreamer had developed dangerously. Away from her,


THE IVORY DISC
77
reason had possession of him; even in her presence, when
her real personality lay dormant, hidden in an ordinary
woman, he could reason with himself and facts; but when
her influence was exercised he was plunged into a fan-
tastic atmosphere and compelled to conclusions which his
reason refused to admit. The East was full of imagina-
tion and dreams, the West had science, could prove its
arguments, could laugh at childish beliefs. This was de-
liberate reasoning, yet he found no satisfaction in any
conclusion.
Tonight he had heard Estelle's story, Bocara's version
of it, true in fact, no doubt, but necessarily incomplete. Bo-
cara had attempted to describe Estelle's mental attitude,
her own description would certainly differ in many details.
It was quite evident from Bocara's treatment of her that
he did not wholly understand her complex nature. The
story filled Oliver's mind tonight. There were points in
it which fitted in with a wild theory which had been in
his brain night and day since he had first met her, a theory
opposed to all reason yet refusing to be ignored. Were
there not truths beyond all reason? Was there not reality
in imagination? Bruce Oliver thus agreed with the
dreamer in him, and then with the practical man he scoffed.
His theory might lead him to a more ordinary conclusion
than the one the dreamer in him contemplated. It was a
conclusion, a possibility he shirked. He had refused to
face it, tonight it became insistent. It was in his power
to put theory to the test.
He put on an old jacket, and taking the key from his
pocket, crossed to the door in the panelling. The dawn was
not far off, but this time Oliver did not turn away. He
opened the door and went slowly down the half dozen steps
which led to his laboratory.


THE IVORY DISC
79
This mental detachment, sometimes complete when she
was alone, was never so in company, nor when she was with
her husband. While she waited for the great event which
must presently come, as surely as dawn after dark, an
event of which she had no certain knowledge, only convic-
tion that it must carry her forward along a path hitherto
untrodden, which would lead her whither she knew not,
but certainly towards good and her destined place in life's
scheme, she was not careless of the everyday events.
Everything was of importance. The sum of small happen-
ings counted for much in the world's balance. She was
conscious of herself, of her beauty, her attraction. It
pleased her to be satisfied with the reflection in her mirror,
a word from her husband endorsing her own opinion of
herself was pleasant. She was content with the fact of
her beauty, there was no thrill in the knowledge. She
liked a man's companionship if he talked well, if he were
clever like her husband, but she had no other interest in
him whatever. Homage of the kind she received from her
husband was right and natural. They were always to-
gether, studied together, were linked in friendship and
thought. She had expected no more and no less from him.
Once, and only once had he acted differently towards her,
that night in Paris after they had heard Tristan. The
music seemed to have intoxicated him, gone to his brain
like heady wine, but he had quickly become sober again.
It had been a shock to Estelle, so great indeed that she had
never played the music since. She wondered that he had
asked for it the night Bruce Oliver had dined with them.
The request had made her angry and afterwards a little
speculative. Her husband's proximity always had an
energizing effect upon her, sometimes almost distressing
her physical powers, sometimes reviving her like a draught
of spring water after thirst, but always touching an an-


80
THE IVORY DISC
swering chord in herself; since the coming of Bruce Oliver
she had been conscious of not responding to her husband
with the same harmony. She had been impelled to set her
will against his, not constantly but on occasion. She had
had Karac in the house against her husband's will and
found a strange consolation in the dog's presence; she
had given the amulet to Dr. Oliver against her husband's
will and found great content; she had refused to study on
two or three occasions when he had been inclined to insist.
These things gave her no real anxiety, led to no sustained
and anxious thought, because she had not yet full under-
standing. She was not a woman asleep as Bocara had
called her, she was awake, and like a child new-born into
a strange world was awaiting tuition and explanation.
Possibly the old gardener, pottering amongst the flower
beds, wondered why she did not come out to him as usual,
for she loved her garden. She was not in the mood to be
interested in it today, something wider, more profound,
had hold of her even in her detachment and presently
stirred her to action. The house, the garden, were too nar-
row for the mental energy within her, she wanted space
and far horizons, the high point of a moorland, or a head-
land overhanging a wide stretch of bounding ocean. None
of these was at hand, but there was Richmond Park; and
a few minutes later, with Karac for company, she was going
towards a secluded seat in a wood on high ground, where
she often went to fill her lungs with the crisp air of morn-
ing, or to dream away a sultry, slumbrous afternoon.
2
Estelle took off her hat, letting the breeze fan her cheeks
and ruffle her hair. Karac lay at her feet, his head rest-
ing on his outstretched paws. The solitude was not as
complete today as usual. A horseman passed along the


THE IVORY DISC
81
edge of the wood, and soon afterwards a blue-clad wounded
soldier and a woman went slowly through the bracken,
lovers, bending close to each other, unconscious of watch-
ing eyes, with no thought for the rest of the world. From
the hidden road below came the sound of a motor, the
sound of its purring engine dying slowly into silence in
the distance. Far above in the sunlit blue was the hum of
an aeroplane. Then there was another motor on the road,
drawing nearer and stopping suddenly. Estelle saw and
heard, but neither sight nor sound disturbed her reverie.
The dog raised his head, looking at his mistress, and after
an uncertain pause got up. There were rapid footsteps
coming through the bracken, then silence.
“You have come,” she said, slowly raising her eyes to
the man who stood beside her.
“Did you know I should come?” said Oliver, laying his
hand in a caress on the dog's head. Karac did not growl,
he was perfectly satisfied with this intruder and lay down
again.
“Sooner or later I knew you must come," she answered.
“How did you find me?”
"Once before I have been here but I did not recognize
the place until I saw you. It was in the early morning
of the day I met you at the Dealtrys', but I did not realize
it was you then, I did not know until the night I dined
at Lantern House. I had come from Richmond, wanting
& walk and fresh air after a night spent in the hospital
there. It was here I first saw you, the morning sun on
you. You were in white just as you are now. I saw you
and stopped. I dared not come closer for this place
seemed to be your sanctuary.”
“It is strange I did not know you were near me,” sho
said. “And today?”
“God knows," and Oliver spoke reverently. “I have not


82
THE IVORY DISC
- on
been in Richmond Park since that morning, but I had to
come today, and at this hour. I tried not to come. I
looked up to this wood, not recognizing the place, but I
stopped the car. I had to come. I saw no path; I came
through the bracken and—and I find you."
“I am glad. I felt lonely like-like a child in a dark
room.”
She turned to him as he seated himself beside her, look-
ing into his eyes, hers as innocent as a young girl's, his
not so steady as usual. Some apology for coming had
seemed necessary, he was conscious of giving it inco-
herently, and the fact that she accepted the situation as
wholly usual confused him a little.
- "Tell me of yourself, your life," he said. “We have
said so little to each other. We have never been alone
until this moment."
“My life. You see something strange in it?"
“Something wonderful,” he answered.
“It is a little difficult to tell. I want you to know every.
thing of course, but part of my life, even as I live it today
is how shall I explain ?—it is as if it were in a foreign
language, a language of which I have very imperfect knowl-
edge, in which I am only in the stage of translating sen-
tences. Do you think you know what I mean?”
“Yes.”
“Once when I was a child something happened. I am
not very clear about it. My father and mother were killed
horribly, and I saw them die. I suppose that is why it
hurts me to talk of death. I have tried to remember more
about my father and mother, but when I do I always walk
into a cloud, a mist, peopled with images which compel
my attention. In it there was always the face of one man,
and presently out of it, too, my husband."
She paused and laid her hand on his arm for a moment,


THE IVORY DISC
then withdrew it. Oliver's hands, strained together, were
clasped between his knees.
"He wasn't my husband then. I was only a child.
Gradually I began a new life, and the memory of the old
one became less and less distinct. I think I forgot all
I had learned in it except my music, that remained and
grew. Now I learned many things from men and women
and from books. They were my school days, but not like
the schooldays of other children. I learned a great deal,
and curiously I learned many things which no one seemed
to teach me. Perhaps the images in the cloud were my in-
structors.”
“What kind of knowledge?” Oliver asked.
“About life, about good and evil, about the high gods,"
she answered. “I could never explain it in words. I
tried to do so to the Professor. He was one of my teach-
ers. I think you can hardly know how deep his knowledge
is. Without him I should not have lived. I should have
been in the cloud always, an image in it and no more. He
took care of me, I was his child. So I grew up, of the
East by adoption. I became a woman, and men said I
was beautiful. Some said I was wise because of the knowl-
edge I had which no one had taught me, and there were
priests desirous of dedicating me to some great purpose.
But no, it was decided that I must marry. I think there
were many who wanted to marry me, and all I desired was
to be as I had always been. The Professor understood,
and he married me so that I might remain his child.”
“And are you happy?”.
“Of course. Nothing was changed. We were still to-
gether as we had always been. We studied together,
we
"
"What do you study with Professor Bocara ?” Oliver
asked.


THE IVORY DISC
“Once, many things and languages, now it is only the
way of life, the world's pilgrimage towards the future.
Do you remember the other night, the blue thread in the
tapestry; it is things like that we study, and we teach
each other In some ways I can see further than the Pro-
fessor. Just lately we have not studied.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have stepped on to another plane, because
I am being born into a new life which is beyond anything
I can learn from the Professor. He has no part in it.
I cannot tell you why. It is strange when he has always
meant so much to me. I should like to feel sorry, but I
cannot. It is as if I had passed from one great chamber
fully lighted into another, lighted but dim to my unac-
customed eyes. I close the door between them and hear
the Professor trying to open it, trying to follow me. I do
not open the door. I feel his presence, but I rejoice that
the door is shut. Perhaps you can understand why I
felt so lonely today."
“And unhappy?” he asked.
“No, but it is a new kind of happiness which comes to
me. As yet I cannot tell how happy I shall be, I am
waiting to learn. Only this I know, it will be happiness
if it is full of pain."
"Estelle!”
“Then you do know why I am glad you came?” she said,
again putting her hand on his arm. This time he put his
hand upon hers and held it there. “It sounds strange,
my name; no one has ever spoken it as you do."
“I ought not to call you Estelle, but "
“But yes, it is right,” she said quickly. “I have been
waiting. You must know I have been waiting.”
“Child, do you know what you are saying, what you are
doing?”


THE IVORY DISC
85.
“Beginning to live. I have been asleep, dreaming only.
I did not realize it, only partly, until now, until this
moment when you called me Estelle and woke me.”
“Tell me,” said Oliver. He wanted time to think, to
take hold of himself if that were possible, to make deci- -
sion.
“It is not quite easy to tell you because it is soul knowl-
edge, easier to think of than to put into words. It is like
great prayer, even if you use words they do not say all
your thoughts mean, do not tell all that is in your heart.
It is not possible, words were not meant for such work.
Never in words do the high gods make answer. How shall
I make you understand? I have been quite contented, de-
siring no change. I liked travel, meeting people, studying
them. Of course I knew I was not like other women, I
did not want to be. They had children. I had only a
husband who was quite different from their husbands. I
was happy, it seemed to me a better kind of happiness
than theirs. I had no contempt for their happiness, their
love, only it had no meaning for me. I should hate any
man I have ever seen to touch me, to caress me, kiss me.
It would be horrible-wicked. I should have killed any
man who tried to do anything like that. And yet, always I
have known that some day it would be quite different, that
something would happen and I should awake. Now the
hour has come, and I am waiting to understand all it
means to me, waiting as brooding darkness waits for the
sun at dawn, waiting as parched ground waits for the
freshening shower.”
“You are sure? How can you be sure?”
“My soul stirred when I first saw you," she answered.
“I have looked into your eyes. I know that a new life
begins for me, for us, from this hour. Don't you?”
Oliver stood up quickly, suddenly, almost as if he were


86
THE IVORY DISC
startled and afraid. She rose too and stood close beside
him, careless of the hat and gloves which fell from her
lap to the ground.
“Don't you?" she whispered.
“Estelle! Estelle! Hate me, kill me if you will. At
least for one precious moment I shall have lived."
She was in his arms, strained close to him, his lips pressed
to hers. There was no horseman at the edge of the wood,
no lovers going slowly through the bracken, no sound from
the road below. They were alone, and this was not earth
but paradise.
“I am awake,” she sighed. “At last I am awake, a real
woman knowing love. And there is so much to learn.
Teach me, Bruce, teach me.”
The doctor's chauffeur grew accustomed to waiting long
hours for his master in Richmond Park. Three or four
afternoons a week he drove there, stopping always at the
same spot.
In the glow of love, in the sunlight of these halcyon after-
noons, Bruce Oliver was forgetful of all else, and thought
little of the strangeness of his wooing. How should a man
think of such things when for the first time in his life a
woman's kisses were warm upon his lips and his very soul
thrilled at her touch. But away from her the burden of
responsibility weighed heavily upon him at times. He was
treading on forbidden ground and was alive to the diffi-
culties which must presently be faced. For himself he
had no thought, only Estelle mattered, and she seemed
utterly oblivious to any strangeness in their intercourse.
It was wholly right, the most natural thing in the world
to her. He must try and explain the position to her, but


THE IVORY DISC
he had little hope she would understand it. He doubted
if he really understood it himself. She was his, not
through overmastering passion, but by right of love. He
had not tempted her, he had spread no snares in her path.
He had said no word of love to her until love was with
them suddenly, not to be denied, not to be considered a
crime. Still, he must make her understand what such love
involved. It would be difficult, in many ways she was
such a child. It is not easy to talk of evil to an innocent
soul.
And then one afternoon she helped him.
“We were dining with some people called Falconer last
night, the Professor and I. You told me to go out as usual
although I hate going.”
“What did you wear?” he asked.
“Why do you want to know?”
"Is it wonderful I should like to know how you looked
when I was not there to see you ?”.
“It is delicious,” she said with a happy laugh. "I was
really with you all the time, in that house of yours which
I have never yet entered. I thought of you when I dressed,
and put on what I knew you would like, just as if I
were going to see you."
She told him what she wore, her dress, her jewelry, the
way she had done her hair. There could have been noth-
ing of Oriental splendor about her, and Oliver was glad.
He hated that barbaric note, it linked her with Bocara.
“I looked very nice,” she said, slipping her arm through
his. “And they were talking about you, Bruce.”
“Who did ?"
"I forget who started it. I think it was some man I
did not know. He said you were a strange individual and
seldom told all you knew. Someone who didn't know you
at all was talking to me at the time so I could not catch all


88
-
THE IVORY DISC,
that was said. I think the conversation was about Mr.
Ockenden and a Member of Parliament called Scrivener.
I met him once or twice and did not like him.”
“You don't remember anything else they said about
me?"
“No. If you like I could ask the Professor. I heard
him say you were a great friend of his, and I think he
spoke as if he did not agree with what they were saying.
I should like to have told them what kind of man you really
were, Bruce."
“You darling. Do you imagine anyone would recog-
nize me from your description ?”
"Perhaps not, but then I know, and nobody else in the
world does. Philippa Dealtry was there, and Bruce, I
wondered if she knew anything about us, this wood, our
love."
“Why, dear?"
“I don't know, the idea came into my head. She asked
whether I had seen you, and when I told her you had dined
with us once, she asked me whether I liked you. She was
persistent. If she were not going to marry that lame Mr.
Palgrave, I could almost have thought she was jealous of
me. I said yes, just in that tone of voice, and shrugged
my shoulders so, and I believe she thought I did not do
you justice. Ah, Bruce, could she only have looked into
my heart."
Oliver was silent for a few moments, inclined to shirk
the opportunity now it had come.
“Presently they must know,” he said after a pause.
“Of course. It is just when you choose, Bruce."
“Do you quite realize what we are doing, dear?”
“Yes, beginning to live, and all the joyous future is
before us. I am just waiting for you to tell me what I
must do."


90
THE IVORY DISC
this thing we do is right. Were it evil I would not do it
though all my days should be sorrowful.”
“They shall be full of joy,” Oliver whispered. “I wish
we could go now, this moment, but we must wait a little
while. I hate parting with you."
“You will keep me in your thoughts."
“You are always there."
"Then you do not let me go. Thought binds us to-
gether, close together, like this,” and she kissed him on
the lips.
Bruce Oliver had made his decision, definitely and de-
liberately, yet searched his brain for some way out of the
difficulty which would not subject Estelle to the gibes of
the world. Strong in her own truth and innocence, she
might be careless of reproach, but to him it was hateful
that so sacred a union as theirs should furnish the world
with food for jest and ribaldry. There had been no real
marriage with Bocara, and a wild idea came into Oliver's
head that he might suggest to the Professor that the mar-
riage should be annulled. The memory of Bocara's atti-
tude on the night he had dined at Lantern House dispelled
the idea and made Oliver afraid on Ęstelle's account. It
was impossible to tell what a man like Bocara might do.
Oliver did not speak of his fears to Estelle, nor did he
talk any more of the world's attitude to such love as theirs.
He talked only of love and of the future. She was so cer-
tain of her position, so innocent of a censurious world out-
side her conception of truth and life, that the ordinary
arguments were meaningless to her. Bocara had only mar-
ried her that she might remain his child. Before and since
marriage they had been comrades. She had helped him in


THE IVORY DISC
his work, they had studied some of the great problems of
good and evil together, sometimes he had sought her advice,
but love had not touched her even in passing, had never
made her curious. She knew nothing of even the shadow
of love. It was no mere pose when she said she would
have killed any man who had offered her a caress. Bocara
himself would not have been exempt from the penalty at
any time during their married life.
They were soon meeting every afternoon in that sanctu-
ary in the woods, staying longer and longer together, ever
finding parting more difficult, love growing deeper every
hour. There was nothing to wait for, yet Oliver hesitated
to take the final and irrevocable step. Hope still lingered
at the back of his mind that there must be some way out
of the difficulty, some reasonable law which could annul
the hateful marriage, a law which Bocara must bow to.
And in his brain there also lurked a problem to which long
night hours were given, sometimes in his study, often in
his laboratory. It brought wild rushes of confused
thought, sometimes even when he was with Estelle. A
chance word of hers might recall some point in his reading
or experiment of last night.
It was so one afternoon just before they parted.
“Estelle,” he said, holding her hands firmly in his,
speaking in a masterful way. “I want you to answer me
a question or two, just as if you were ill and a doctor were
questioning you."
“But I am not ill and you are my lover.”
“Yes, dear heart, but you must answer me. I want to
understand and know you altogether. You have told me
that you have sometimes felt like being in a cloud, seeing
images in it; that sensation has not passed altogether, has .
it?"
"No."


92
THE IVORY DISC
“There are occasions now when you go back into the
cloud, drift back into it?”
“Yes, but not very lately."
“Can you determine the reason for this going back?"
“No. It just happens.”
“And when you are in this mist, this cloud, does life
seem unreal, wholly out of your own control ?”
“It is not quite like that, Bruce."
"Tell me in your own way, dearest.”
“Do you say your prayers, Bruce ?" she asked.
“Not as I should do, not in set fashion. I have been
lax, dearest."
“I must teach you,” she said. "If you had ever lost
yourself in prayer, I could explain much better what you
are asking me. At the beginning, when I was a child, the
cloud was thicker, denser, numbing me mentally, but after-
wards, as I grew up, it was thin, like mist, and seemed to
be part of my religion. I lost myself in it as in a cloud of
incense, and the images in it were like suggestions, dreams
and visions which needed interpretation.”
“Did you find the interpretation ?”
“Sometimes, at least it seemed so. There was nothing
very definite. Generally I have felt that I had some pur-
pose in life, that there was something I must do and no
other. Life became larger than it was in my every-day
world, larger, fuller of meaning, and I felt that for somo
great purpose I was the chosen instrument. My mental
vision grew clearer, I could feel more keenly for all people,
for the poor, for the downtrodden, for the sufferers from
injustice. I could perceive the hidden sins in nations and
in individuals. Then the vision-I know not what else to
call it-has passed. I became mostly material after being
mostly spiritual."
“Why should it pass? What caused it to pass ?”


THE IVORY DISC
93
“Bruce, dear, I cannot say. The mood held me no
longer.”
“And you were just the same as before, there was no
feeling of satisfaction, no sense of accomplishment ?"
“Yes, sometimes there was a sensation that something
had been accomplished.”
“Can you not fix on anything which started these
moods ?” Oliver asked.
“Sometimes they came after I had been studying with
the Professor, not always but sometimes.”
“And did you shrink from them?”
“Oh, no. I was elated because through vision I was
going to learn more of the great scheme of existence.”
There was a note of enthusiasm in the answer and Oliver
looked at her keenly.
“Were you in this spirit of elation when you first met
me?” he asked.
“I think I was, I am not quite sure. You seem to have
been one of the images in my thin cloud, but it is diffi-
cult to speak quite certainly. You see, dear, love had
come to me.”
“But you were or had been quite recently in the cloud ?”
“Yes, it was the last occasion. Now I know love per-
haps there will never be another."
“And you will regret that?”
“I cannot answer that, Bruce. I do not know.”
“Have you been helping the Professor in his work
again ?"
“This morning," she answered.
“Did any elation come?” he asked, watching her closely.
“No. I did not want to help him, but I have refused
so often lately that I did not want to hurt him by refusing
again. Today there was no gladness in it, only weariness.
Love fills my soul, Bruce, there is no room for anything


94
THE IVORY DISC
else. Soon I want to be near you, Bruce, close to you
always."
“Yet there is pity in your heart for the Professor.”
“Of course. That is the only reason I studied with him
today. Why have you asked me all these questions?”
“Because I am a doctor as well as your lover,” he an-
swered, forcing a note of gaiety. “Because the lover in
me sees every little ruffle of change in you, and the doctor
immediately wonders whether you are quite as well as
you should be."
“Foolish, dear lover,” she said. “Change! Naturally
I am changing, yet really remain the same, just as a bud
is really the same as the flower in bloom. Dear love of
mine, there is much you have to teach me, and much too
that you shall learn from me. I shall teach you to forget
the great doctor sometimes and lose yourself with me in
my cloud-in prayer. There shall we be close together,
body and soul.”
They had been together longer than usual this afternoon,
and parting was more difficult than ever. Twice Estelle
pleaded for a few minutes longer, loath to let him go, and
Oliver was tempted to hurry her forthwith to his waiting
car and drive her away into some remote hiding place
never to let her go again.
"Tomorrow, love, come early tomorrow," he whispered.
"It is so long until tomorrow, Bruce, from now to dark
and all the dreary hours of the night.”
“Yet we are bound together by thought,” he said.
“And shielded by prayer," she murmured, “by prayers
burning into the Almighty conscience even as tiny flames,
symbols of spirit truths, are sent floating into the unknown
on the tide of an Indian river. Bruce, darling, pray to-
night. We pray differently perhaps, you and I, and our


THE IVORY DISC
95
petitions travel by different ways, but all prayer comes
to the same listening ears."
And with this promise they parted.
5
Estelle was late on the following afternoon. Oliver had
waited anxiously for nearly an hour, fearing many things,
before she came. And when she came she came slowly.
His fears were not dispelled. She was a little different.
It might be accounted for by her dress, which was more
noticeable Oriental than usual, rich color in it, the Ori.
ental note he hated. There was jade at her throat, and
on her wrist a bracelet of jade. Her dress jarred upon
him, it linked her with Bocara, with the life from which
she was to be freed by love. Oliver knew that she could
not have thought of him when she dressed today, and sen-
sitive to her every mood, he imagined there was less warmth
in her kiss.
“Dear heart, you are late.”
She offered no excuse.
“How soon shall we go away?" she asked. “It must
be very soon now."
“Estelle, what has happened?”.
“Nothing. Listen, Bruce, long ago, it seems long ago,
did I not tell you that had I wings I would fly into the
heart of the setting sun-Westwards you understand where
dwell happiness and peace. You asked me what the Pro-
fessor would do, and I said he would still go on teaching
his languages.” .
“I remember, dearest."
"I meant that he would understand, would know that
my destiny was being accomplished. I believed that I
spoke the simple truth, but now-Bruce, love has given me


96
THE IVORY DISC
a clearer vision of today and of some yesterdays. I have
not understood, but knowledge of love has opened my eyes,
not suddenly, gradually. I am beginning to see more dis-
tinctly in that dim chamber into which I have passed,
into which I would not open the door for the Professor
to follow me.”
“Tell me," said Oliver, compelling the confidence which
seemed to waver.
“There was the night in Paris after we had heard Tris-
tan. I felt the presence of evil then, and I would never
play that music again, but my understanding stopped
short. That night the Professor forgot I was his child
and looked upon me as a woman, tried to make me know
I was a woman. And since then, there have been other
times when he was very subtly different. I have not
understood, I have only been conscious of a disinclination
to study with him, to be alone with him, and have wanted
Karac with me for company."
“Yes, dear, yes, tell me everything.”
“There is not much to tell, only my will opposed his in
small things. I was a little afraid of something unknown
-and yet it was not fear exactly, doubt rather. I do not
know fear. It began, this change, from the moment you
and I met. Love began at once to unclose my eyes.
Doubt was near me when you first came to Lantern House.
That is why I gave you the amulet."
“It is here,” said Oliver, touching his breast.
“Until then I had always worn it,” she went on, "and
the Professor resented my parting with it. A priest of
an Indian temple gave it to me, a wise old man who walked
close to the will of the gods. It would keep me from all
harm, he said. It was an emblem of love, and love shields
from all evil.”


THE IVORY DISC
97
“Then you must wear it still, Estelle," and Oliver raised
his hand to unfasten the chain about his neck.
“No, no," she said, holding him. “It is to keep you
from harm. When you had gone that afternoon the Pro-
fessor spoke to me in a strange way. Our wills were at
war for the first time I think. He looked at me in a way
I resented, yet did not understand. I know now. It was
the way a man looks at a woman when-when he desires
her."
“You must take the amulet,” Oliver said, and his per-
sistency was proof of his belief in it.
“Yours is the danger, Bruce," she said more eagerly
than she had yet spoken. “I know, but I cannot tell you
how I know. If danger is near I can feel it, as a bird
scents a coming storm. I should have stopped you coming to
dinner that night only I felt danger was far off, and—and I
wanted you so. And since then I have been learning. If
the Professor touched my hand I shrank. I turned away
when he looked at me. I have pitied him because he must
be without me, but now-Bruce, I do not want to hate,
remembering the past, but I must be near you. It must
be soon, Bruce."
“It shall be, dearest.”
“And you must not come to Lantern House. Under no
circumstances must you come there again. I should be
afraid."
“Estelle, you must come with me now, you must not go
back there. It is not safe."
“For me, yes. No harm can happen to me."
"The amulet "
“It is for you to wear. I am quite safe. He dare not
hurt me.”
“Dare not!” Oliver exclaimed.
“I know I am safe. He fears mo bogause I am in the


98
THE IVORY DISC
special keeping of the high gods. Long ago I was blessed
for special service. The priests thought me wise and
would have dedicated me a priestess, but the Professor said
no. I did not serve in the temple, I was dedicated to work
in the world of men and women. The priests did not love
the Professor for keeping me his child, and he knows I
am in the care of Almighty Power.”
“I am afraid, Estelle. I am a coward because of you.
Come now."
"It is not possible. Think and arrange for three days,
Bruce, and then "
“Three days!”
“I have not told you, I have had so much to say today.
You will not see me for three days."
“Estelle! Why not?”.
“I have things to do. I am leaving one life for another,
I have much to do.”.
“I shall be terribly anxious and utterly wretched."
“You shall tell me three days from now, and I shall
comfort you, and you shall say when we are to go. It
must be soon. Ah, Bruce, the happiness that has love in
it always brings pain. It is wonderful that there should
be no perfect happiness without pain. I am going now.
You shall wait here and watch me go, watch me until the
rising ground yonder hides me, and then in three days."
She would not stay, he could not persuade her. He
watched her go, slowly as she had come. She never looked
back, not even as she crossed the rising ground. And alone
in her sanctuary Oliver prayed for her safety. Almost he
threw out his arms in supplication as once he had seen
her do.
6
The only fear in Estelle's heart was fear for her lover.
It was vague yet very real. She felt danger, and for the


THE IVORY DISC
99
next three days she had banished him from her sight.
She was glad yet did not know why she was glad. She
was not clear why she had banished him, she had had no
intention of doing so, the necessity had come to her only
as she talked to him. She did not know of what she was
afraid, there was no fear of her husband, but of some-
thing intangible, something she must face alone, through
a space of time during which her lover must not come near
her. Full of purpose she went forward, she never thought
of looking back.
She entered the house unnoticed as she had left it. She
had never made any secret of her going and coming. She
had nothing to hide, no sense of wrongdoing. Had Bocara
met her in the hall and asked where she had been she
would have told him. A lie was impossible to her. She
had no fear of her husband, but she no longer had any
pity for him. He had become alien to her life, outside
it. That he thought of her as a woman, that desire for
her could burn in his eyes, was hateful. It made her feel
unclean, it debased truth and love. The thought of it had
almost made her shrink from Bruce's caress today. In
three days
That belonged to the future, she was in the present,
must act not merely think of action. Crossing the hall she
opened a door which led into a part of the house which
was little used. Into a wide stone passage there, many
doors opened. These were the servants' quarters when
Lantern House had echoed to the footsteps of many guests,
and Georgian men and women had made merry in its
rooms or played with love in the alleys of its gardens.
Before one of these doors Estelle stopped, paused for a
moment, then opened it, and flinging aside a heavy curtain,
passed into a darkened room, muttering broken phrases in
Hindustani.


CHAPTER VII
“Don't touch me! Don't come near me! Even if I should
cry out to you, do not come.”
"MOTHER is deliciously humorous and doesn't know it,”
said Philippa as Gerald came into the drawing room at
Lennox Lodge.
“That is better than being a bore and fancying yourself
amusing," he answered. “I cannot allow anything to be
said against your mother, Phil. She is a wonderful
woman. What has she been doing to agitate you?”
“Read that,” and she handed him a society paper, some-
what thin and emaciated in these days for want of paper.
Palgrave read aloud: “We hear that Lady Dealtry has
for the time being discontinued her charming dinner
parties which have become such a feature in the literary
and artistic circles of London. Lady Dealtry, we under-
stand, is so convinced that it is the duty of every man and
woman to help this country to get on with the war that she
is withdrawing from all merely social engagements. We
can only commend Lady Dealtry's patriotism and appre-
ciate her action which must be a real sacrifice to one of
her artistic temperament.”
“Mother is stopping them because of Mr. Ockenden's
death and in case people should say unpleasant things. It
100


THE IVORY DISC
103
Oliver fits it in a measure. But I know him so well, he is
80 sane in every way, and "
“And yet you are rather expecting he will give himself
away when you get a confidential talk with him,” Philippa
suggested.
“The idea has entered my head, but — "
“That is sufficient answer,” she said as the curtain went
up. Probably Palgrave's account of the play's progress
would have been a poor one because before the curtain was
well down again he took up the subject at the point where
he had left off.
“No, I do not expect Oliver to give himself away, because
I have come to the conclusion there is nothing to give
away directly. Indirectly there may be. That is where
I stumble upon doubts. Of course, whoever is the criminal
he is innocent of all intention. The madness passes, there
is no memory of what has happened, and the madman is
as sane again as you or I.”
“My dear Gerald, you do not get away from your doubts
of Dr. Oliver.”
“Directly yes, indirectly no. I think he must know
something, possibly suspects someone, and therefore keeps
his mouth more firmly shut than is good for his own repu.
tation. He is being discussed more than ever, some very
unpleasant things are being said, and when I get a talk
with him I want to put him on his guard. Somebody at
the club the other day remembered that he had written a
wonderful pamphlet on little known poisons, and another
fellow began to talk of Ockenden's death and suggested
poison as the cause. Then someone else wondered whether
there could be any connection betwen the two, and there
you are. To say the least of it Oliver is an ass if he
takes this kind of thing lying down.”
“Unless he has a reason,” said Philippa.


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THE IVORY DISC
It took him a long time to decide whether he could do as
he wished with this room. On returning to the inn he
asked many questions concerning provisions, the nearest
railway station, the people living in the neighborhood.
The morning of the second day had been devoted to
patients, the afternoon to accumulated correspondence and
to a visit to a house agent. After dinner he had shut him-
self in his laboratory and remained there until five o'clock
this morning. Two hours' troubled sleep and a cold bath
had not served to obliterate the effects. He looked like a
man who had been dissipating, was conscious of it, realized
that his hand trembled a little, and for the first time in
his life, he dreaded facing the patients with whom he had
appointments this morning.
He opened the letters as they came and read Palgrave's
through twice. Oliver did not want to see any of his
friends just now, but Palgrave said it was important.
Most probably he wanted to warn him of malicious tongues
as Martha Houghton had done. His first impulse was to
put him off, but he reflected that Gerald Palgrave was a
man with ideas, was his friend, and might be useful. He
would want a staunch friend presently, and Palgrave was
likely to bear the strain he must put upon friendship better
than any other man he could think of. He would 'phone
to him after breakfast and fix an evening after he had seen
Estelle again. It might be wise to take Gerald into his
confidence.
There was a considerable number of letters, letters from
patients asking for appointments, begging letters, bills, two
lengthy screeds from doctors criticizing statements he had
made in a recent article on heredity proclivities, which
he put aside for future consumption, and then at the bot-
tom of the pile there was a letter which he opened as
casually as the rest, but read excitedly.


108
THE IVORY DISC
“Yes, sir."
Oliver then telephoned to Gerald Palgrave and asked
him to come to Hobart Place tomorrow evening, he could
telephone to him again or send him a wire if he had to
take Estelle away today. He telephoned also to Martha
Houghton, just to see that she was available, he told her.
He expected to want her during the week for the case he
had mentioned. “Yes yes it would be a long case," he
said, answering her questions. “Difficult? Yes, the most
important I have ever undertaken. A man? No, a
woman. They are always the difficult cases, Little Mother.
No, I cannot give you any particulars over the 'phone, but
it will be a long case and will take you out of London."
He tried to speak calmly, but Nurse Houghton knew him
well enough to understand that the case must be a serious
one for him to say so much.
The requests for appointments which had come that even.
ing Oliver put aside, he would answer them after he had
seen Estelle, and having made these arrangements he felt
better. He went to his consulting room and for the next
two or three hours was the grave doctor, keen, precise,
definite.
As Bruce Oliver turned out of Hobart Place he nearly
ran into the arms of Professor Bocara. It was horribly
like being caught.
“Ah, Dr. Oliver, you startled me. I had not remembered
I was in your neighborhood."
“You were not coming to see me, then g".
“No. We do not need the doctor at Lantern House,
only the friend. You have not been to see us again."
“I am a busy man,” said Oliver, feeling like a liar.
"And this is a busy day because you hurry. It is also


THE IVORY DISC
109
with me. I have been giving a lesson in Cavendish Square,
and now I go out of town to give one in the country. It
is a young Lord who expects diplomatic employment. It
happens once a week and I stay the night.”
“You must love the work to—to take so much trouble.”
“It is because of the people I meet," smiled Bocara.
“Because I teach, doors are opened to me which otherwise
would be shut. Visit us soon, Doctor. There is always
a welcome.”
Oliver thought of Estelle’s simile of passing from one
chamber to another, and the closed door between which she
would not open to her husband. He had decided not to
use his car this afternoon, the letter seemed to make secrecy
necessary, now he wished he had used it and so avoided
this conversation with Bocara. It had turned the seamy
side of his love towards him, made him conscious of decep-
tion, vulgarized an idyll, made right wrong. Yet, during
his journey, he realized that it was not only the meeting
with Bocara which was responsible for this reaction, but
also the fact that Estelle was taking advantage of her hus-
band's absence, was stooping to intrigue, was acting as any
intriguing woman might do. The hours in Richmond Park
were sacred, outside the conventional world, because
Estelle, at least, was innocent of evil, a woman apart; but
to go to Lantern House, knowing that Bocara would not
interrupt them, was another matter altogether.
It was very strange that he should have met Bocara at
such a moment; and that Oliver should wonder if it were
a warning, a barrier raised across the road he was travel-
ling, showed how deeply he had sunk into the mystic
atmosphere which surrounded Estelle. Now she had
stepped down from the high pedestal on which he had
placed her, and he was perplexed and uneasy in his mind.
The strong wine of his decision turned to water.


110
THE IVORY DISC
Further reaction took place as he approached Lantern
House. His antagonism to Bocara took hold of him
strongly as if his very dwelling place radiated evil in-
fluence. He hated Bocara's smile, his suave manner, his
eyes, the smooth voice which had bidden him visit them
and be welcome. He was suddenly conscious of fear for
Estelle. Had the Professor prepared a trap for them? It
was possible. It was very curious he should have met him
as he turned out of Hobart Place. Was he there of set
purpose ? Could he know of the letter? Having taken
vengeance on his wife, had he satisfied his lustful soul
by looking into the face of her lover, knowing whither he
was bound and what he would find there. The thought
had a thousand horrors in it and lent wings to Oliver's
feet. The half formed resolve that he would not visit
Estelle today was forgotten.
The native servant who opened the door showed no sur-
prise. He did not wait to be questioned.
“Madame is waiting,” he said. "The Master is not at
home.”
Evidently he had received his instructions. From
whom? From his master or mistress? Oliver looked for
some chance clue in his inscrutible face.
“Will the Professor be in presently?” Oliver asked.
“He did not say. Madame is waiting in the little tem-
ple," and the servant opened a door into a wide stone pas-
sage, standing aside to let him pass. “It is the third door
on the right. The Doctor will forgive, but it is not for
me to approach the temple unless Madame demands it."
He closed the door, leaving Oliver alone in the passage.
That Lantern House should have a private chapel was
understandable, although unexpected, but it was beyond
belief that Estelle would receive him there. Something
was wrong, hideously wrong. Fear brought clammy


THE IVORY DISC
111
moisture to his forehead as he hurried to the third door
on the right, opened it without knocking, and flinging
aside the heavy curtain within, entered.
The metal rings rattling on their metal pole awoke an
echo, followed by utter silence. Nothing moved in the
dim light which filtered through the darkened window, som
dim a light that for a space nothing was clear to Bruce
Oliver beyond the fact that he had entered a sanctuary,
that mystery lurked in the dark corners, and that the
pungent smell of some peculiar incense was in his nostrils.
A few moments passed before his eyes became accustomed
to the light, and then he saw that he was in a long, narrow
room, the walls of which were hung with dark and heavy
tapestry. At the far end was a dais, across which cur-
tains could be drawn. They were parted now. On the
dais stood an altar, raised on two steps, and behind the
altar was a seated wooden figure, an idol the size of a big
man. It might be intended for a representation of Buddha,
but Oliver thought not. It was not hideous, but without
any adventitious aids to make it so, it was repulsive. The
designer's art was crude, but he had succeeded in giving
to the figure a vague aspect of power, malicious yet not
without seduction, full of suggestion and irresistable in-
fluence. Never until this moment had Oliver realized how
full of personality an idol may be, how real an influence
to a mind rendered susceptible by environment.
At the foot of the dais, in a big and elaborately carved
armchair, sat Estelle, looking small in her huge setting,
yet full of strange dignity. Her dress was heavy, Oriental,
of brilliant colors, a garment which hung from her shoul-
ders in straight lines of many folds; and loosely wrapped
round her shoulders was a shawl of black silk richly inter-


THE IVORY DISC
113
“You sent for me, Estelle, and I am here," Oliver said
after a pause.
Very slowly she turned her head and looked at him as
if he were a stranger, no recognition in her eyes, just
consciousness of an alien presence in this temple, an in-
trusion, a sacrilege. She was not startled, only her head
moved, her arms remained stretched along the arms of the
carved chair, and there was not a tremor in the folds of
her dress to indicate returning animation to her body. Yet
she was more alive than she had been a few moments ago,
and Oliver watched her closely, curiously. She was not
recovering from the effects of a drug, her condition was
a mental one, he decided. Inert as she was she seemed
strangely full of life, the life of movement, not of the
world but of life greater, more abounding, more profound,
that pulsing life beat which knows nothing of death and
fills everything beyond the limits of all time and space,
that life which exists everywhere but is never born incar-
nate into the world. He could almost fancy that move-
ment was painful to her. It was trance, but of a kind
wholly outside his experience. She looked at him, then
slowly turned to look at the idol, then turned to him again.
There was no recognition in her eyes, yet there was no
suggestion that her mind was a blank, rather that her
mental processes were trying to account for the presence
of the idol and the man in the same place. She was in
suspension between two controlling forces.
“Estelle!” Oliver said again, and took a step towards
her.
With a clash of the golden chains which hung at her
waist she sprang to her feet as if his movement had broken
a spell. She thrust out her arms to him, and the black,
gold-threaded shawl slipped from her shoulders to the
floor. Oliver took no more than one step towards her,


114
THE IVORY DISC
for there was no welcome in her eyes, nor in her out-
stretched arms, only repulsion and forbiddance.
“But you sent for me,” he said.
From his face her eyes travelled to her own outstretched
hands, and her expression changed. With a sudden swirl
of her lithe body she turned to the idol.
“This is evil," she cried in a strong, passionate voice,
moved by some intense emotion. “This is evil, and I was
promised all good. It is against the wicked and blas-
phemous in life that I strive; by what power then comes
love into my temple?”
It was more a reproach than a demand for enlighten-
ment, a fierce and sudden rebellion against ordered destiny.
Was Estelle mad that she questioned this wooden image
and stood with her arms raised to it expecting an answer?
Oliver watched her, and vividly recalled the recent hours
he had spent in his laboratory. The world would pro-
nounce her mad, but in spite of the confusion in his mind,
Oliver's judgment was looking deeper than the world
sees. Practical thought and decision were impossible in
this place. He waited motionless and in silence, and under
the influence of his surroundings would not have been
taken wholly by surprise had some answer, some sign been
given. At this moment anything seemed possible. He
might have been afraid had not his whole thought and
energy been concentrated on the woman. For some min-
ates she stood facing the idol, then her arms fell to her
side and she turned to Oliver. Perhaps she had received
her answer, a silent answer which he could not under-
stand. It was evident she recognized him now, but she
was still a priestess more than a woman.
“I did not send for you,” she said.
“But your letter I have it here."
“I wrote no letter,” she answered, and then hesitated


THE IVORY DISC
115
as though some doubt had crossed her mind. There was
a struggle between the priestess and woman, and the woman
prevailed. "No, I wrote no letter. Should I bring you
to your death when your life means life to me?"
“Estelle, come out of this place.”
“Don't touch me," she cried, shrinking back from him
as he made a step towards her.
“Estelle, trust me. Hold my hand and let me take you
away. Nothing shall hurt you. There is nothing here
which can hurt you."
“Don't touch me," she cried, terror in her voice, and
yet for just one instant it seemed that she would obey him.
“Come out of this place, Estelle. It is not good for you
to be here."
The hands which had almost gone out to him were sud-
denly clasped tightly behind her back, and with an awk.
ward and strained gesture she half turned to the idol.
“Evil is here and nearly destroys us. Don't touch me!
Don't come near me! Even if I should cry out to you
do not come. Power Almighty bring good. Let no harm
touch my love. Shield us at this moment and through
all time.”
Oliver let the hand he had stretched out fall to his side,
and in an instant Estelle turned again to him, her hands
still clasped behind her back.
“Don't come near me. Go quickly. Did I not bid you
not to come here under any circumstances ?”
“I cannot, I will not leave you here like this,” he said.
“Go. Go, and do not attempt to see me here or any.
where until until I tell you."
“Tomorrow in the Park?”
“Nowhere until I tell you. The amulet?”
“It is here,” Oliver answered. “You will wear it now."
“No. It has preserved you, even against me it has pre-
served you. Keep it close. Go."


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THE IVORY DISC
For a moment Oliver hesitated, then he obeyed her.
Something stronger than his own will directed him, and
he went slowly out of the little temple, closing the door
behind him.
For a little while Estelle stood looking at the place
where he had been as if she still saw him there, as if she
were still afraid that he might touch her. She did not
at once unclasp her hands from behind her, she did not
seem certain that Oliver had gone. There was a troubled
look in her eyes as she searched the dim corners of the
room, fear in them. She was facing something unknown.
A new experience had come to her, she had no comprehen-
sion of its meaning. She felt sore and strained as one who
had been in a crowd which disputed for possession of her,
which had torn her this way and that. She looked down
at herself almost expecting to see wide rents in her dress,
marking the struggle through which she had passed. She
turned again questioningly to the idol, but she did not
plead to it any more; she did not understand but in some
way it had failed her. Life had departed from it, and
all virtue, yet vaguely she attributed the failure to some
defect in herself. She picked up the shawl and wrapped
it round her shoulders. She reseated herself in the carved
chair, falling into the exact attitude she was in when Oliver
had entered. She was perfectly still, her reverie might
never have been broken. For a time her eyes stared
straight bfore her, her attitude was tense and expectant.
She relaxed quite suddenly, her body became limp, utterly
exhausted, her head fell back against the chair, her eyes
were closed, and the color was drained from her cheeks.
She might have been dead.


THE IVORY DISC
117
For an hour she remained limp and motionless, then life
began to stir in her again, like a breath of evening rustling
the leaves after a still, sultry day. Her color came back
slowly, and she sat up rubbing her eyes. She looked round
the room enquiringly.
“Bruce," she whispered, wholly woman as she spoke his
name. He had been there, she was quite sure of that, only
just now he had been there, but she was glad he had gone.
It was strange she should be glad, presently she would
remember why, would recollect what he had done to make
her glad that he had gone. She glanced down at her dress,
felt the shawl, fingered the gold chains at her neck and
waist, and looked at the rings she wore. They were all
quite familiar to her, were a part of her life, or had been;
but now there was a sensation of something passed, done
with, something to be discarded and forgotten. She had
never felt this before, was not quite sure she was glad to
feel it now. She turned to the idol, her brow knit with
perplexity. For the first time she was observant of the
wood of which it was made, and of some of the crude work-
manship in it. It was a very ordinary figure. She got
up and stood at the foot of the dais looking up at it.
“I know I am not like other women,” she murmured,
"but today-exerything is different today.”
The incense in the golden bowl had burned out but the
fumes of it were heavy in the air. She moved the bowl to
one side, and taking off the shawl folded it carefully and
laid it on the altar. She took the diadem from her hair,
the rings from her fingers, the chains from her waist and
neck, and arranged them neatly upon the shawl. She was
going through some familiar ritual, doing it mechanically.
Then she hesitated looking down at the dress, and glancing
at the gold ornaments lying on the shawl. They seemed
to be in their place there, she never folded anything else


118
THE IVORY DISC
to place on them and cover them. No, they were always
left there in the sight of the image to whom they belonged.
Yet the dress. She always put it on before she entered
the temple, but today-after a pause she loosened it at
the shoulders, it was an unfamiliar action in this place,
but today it must be done. The garment slipped from
her, falling in a heavy ring about her feet, and she stood
slim and upright, a woman clad only in dainty undergar-
ments of silk and lace. She stepped out of the ring slowly,
wonderingly. She did not touch the dress, it had no place
on the altar. She left it just as it had fallen from her
in a ring. Then she pulled a cord which closed the curtain
hiding the image, and hurried out of the sanctuary.


CHAPTER VIII
"A kiss, Estelle, a kiss such as yet you have never known.”
1
In spite of his anxiety the predominant sensation in
Bruce Oliver's mind that evening was one of satisfaction.
His experience that afternoon had confirmed a large part
of his theory at any rate. He had not been prepared for
the scene which had occurred at Lantern House, he had
not expected a temple, an idol, incense, vestments, all the
paraphernalia of a high ritual, but his whole theory rested
upon the assumption that Estelle was intermittantly under
some powerful influence, most probably a religious in-
fluence, and undoubtedly this was the case. Her history,
as Bocara had told it, her life as she had herself explained
it, bad strengthened the idea, but what had puzzled Oliver
was the fact that, on the whole, it was a beneficent influence,
taking her out of the narrow ruts of mere convention and
giving her soul unlimited space in which to wander. His
theory demanded a pernicious influence, and he had found
no sign of such an attitude in talking to Estelle. Today
he had been able to probe deeper into the mystery. He
had supposed that the processes at work were purely men-
tal, entirely on a spiritual plane, instead of which he had
discovered that there was a material side, outward and
119


120
THE IVORY DISC
visible signs which were both barbaric and sinister. It
was difficult to adjust the relationship between the two, but
Estelle's behavior today had given him a clue. She had
shown unmistakable signs of struggle, she had evidently
been torn between two ways of action, between a course
she herself recognized as evil and another course which
was fixed in her mind as love. She had turned upon the
image in rebellion, almost accusing it of being the cause
of evil, yet in the same breath petitioning it to save her
love. The position was only possible, Oliver argued, to
a woman as innocent as Estelle; in any other, good or evil
would have gained a definite victory. The idol undoubt-
edly stood for something malignant, Oliver had been con-
vinced of this the moment he saw it, and whoever had
initiated Estelle into its worship must have desired that
in some way its malign influence should touch her and
direct her actions. To what extent had it done so? It
seemed certain to Oliver that in a general way the device
had failed, that Estelle had found in the ritual she prac-
tised only a help to those wide soul flights which were
manifest even in her ordinary conversation, but this was
not to say no evil had come from her. Under certain con-
ditions she might be used as an unconscious medium, and
real religion, deep and wide as space, might on occasion
be debased into religious mania capable of wickedness and
destruction.
From the first he had attributed to Professor Bocara
the malign influence acting upon Estelle. In some way
it was accomplished through her studies with him, but he
was not clear how it was done. It was easy to assume
that it was by mesmerism, or some form of transmitted
will power, but neither Estelle's character, nor facts as
Oliver knew them, supported this assumption. In some
ways Estelle dominated her husband's will. Nor had


122
THE IVORY DISC
love had come to her through him, through the man she
was intended to destroy. Was it too much to assume that
love was the counterbalancing force to evil, that now love
had possession of her the strength to those other forces
which had been brought to bear upon her would be broken.
Oliver believed this would be the case, although the process
might be slow, but he was also convinced that some phy-
sical cause contributed to her mental condition. With this
belief at the back of his mind he had asked her many
questions, and today her whole attitude had gone far to
establish this belief. He was not distressed by the way
Estelle had dismissed him. The loving, fearful woman
had not been altogether hidden in the priestess battling
against evil force and suggestion. But Oliver was doubt-
ful whether she would send for him, it might have been
only the priestess who said that, the woman had already
made the appointment for tomorrow after sending him
into exile for three days. She had almost certainly been
conscious that a crisis was imminent and had sent him out
of harm's way.
On the following afternoon Oliver was driven to Rich-
mond Park and went hurriedly to the sanctuary in the
woods. It was empty. He waited for more than an hour
but Estelle did not come. The woman must have spoken
through the priestess yesterday. There must be some
good reason why he should not see her until she sent for
him.
Estelle Bocara wandered about her garden, Karac beside
her. She talked to the gardener, but a little absently, an
effort was necessary to show any interest in his suggestions,
and she had none of her own to offer. The old man sup-
posed she could not be well, yet he had never seen her


THE IVORY DISC
123
look better. It was unusual for her not to take an interest
in what he said.
Physically listless her mind was restless. She longed to
be free from these enclosing walls, to go with flying feet
to that sanctuary in the woods, to the love for which she
hungered, which she knew awaited her there. She knew
Bruce Oliver would be waiting, knew that the three days
were over, but she also knew that the crisis which she had
foreseen was not yet past for her. Something more there
was to do, what it was she did not know. She could only
wait. She was quite aware there were periods during
which she was in close touch with the spiritual side of
life. Partly they were spent in her little temple, in re-
treat, and partly in the world where, it seemed to her, she
lavished the fruits of her silent contemplation with the
gods, dispensing to others some of the good which she had
received in secret. Then quite suddenly she was normal
again, with no special power, her office of priestess laid
aside. Today there was no desire to lavish good, this time
the desire had not come to her. Everything was different.
All feeling of elation had evaporated, but there was no
sense of accomplishment as was usually the case, and she
was quite sure she had not yet recovered her normal con-
dition. And she was particularly anxious to be herself,
a desire which had never troubled her before. She had
endeavored to achieve it by extraneous help, by dressing
herself in the simplest gown she possessed, but to no pur-
pose. Something more was to happen, she was on the
threshold of a further revelation, and must wait.
At any other time she would certainly have gone to her
husband and suggested study, taking him into her con-
fidence, today she was glad he was not in the house. She
did not speculate about him, he would come presently;
indeed, she felt that her waiting was connected with his


124
THE IVORY DISC
coming, which in a vague way she dreaded. The fact was
astonishing. She had never dreaded him before. What
was to happen must be something outside all her experi-
ence.
She dined alone, wearing the same simple dress, almost
a pathetic figure in the corner of the great dining room.
“Coffee in the drawing room,” she said as she rose.
She switched on only one of the electric bulbs, a colored
lamp of exquisite workmanship which glowed like a great
jewel. She sank into a deep chair, and the servant set the
coffee on a low table beside her.
“Should anyone come I am not at home," she said.
The man bowed.
“If Dr. Oliver should come I cannot see him," she said.
The man bowed again and left the room.
For a long time she sat there, doing nothing, not even
thinking with any concentration. Once she half rose with
the intention of sending for Karac to keep her company,
but she did not do so. The great Dane must not come into
the house tonight. It was her own decision, she was not
considering her husband's dislike of the dog.
The utter silence and loneliness presently drove her to
the piano, and it was weird music her fingers brought from
the instrument.
She left the piano and drew back a curtain from one of
the windows. Moonlight flooded the garden, casting black
shadows, the light of the full moon, so clear and brilliant
that only a star here and there was palely visible. She
longed to go into the moonlight, to bathe herself in it, yet
she did not open the window. Half hidden in the folds
of the curtain she remained motionless, her thoughts
stretchng out into space, bridging the present with the past,
and linking both with that glorious future which extended
beyond all the limits of time.


THE IVORY DISC
125
Suddenly she turned. She had not heard the door open,
but she knew she was no longer alone.
“How you love the moonlight, Estelle."
The Professor closed the door and stood looking at her.
“How you love the moonlight,” Bocara said again, as if
if were a phrase, some code sentence which had special
meaning for her.
“Sometimes,” she answered as she drew the curtain
sharply across the window, shutting the moonlight out.
She came slowly from the window and stood by a high-
backed chair wholly unconscious of her surpassing beauty,
but intensely sensitive of her husband's scrutiny. “You
have just returned ?”
“Not five minutes ago.”
“And wish to study?”
“Not tonight. Why do you ask, Estelle? Have you a
desire to study?”
“No,” she answered definitely.
“Of course not,” he said with a smile. “Our work here
is finished, yours and mine. We are leaving England.”
“When?” She did not start at the information. She
spoke as if she were rehearsing a part.
“As soon as passports can be arranged,” he said care-
lessly, yet with a certain masterfulness. “It is difficult
in war time, but through an influential pupil of mine I
shall succeed quickly.”
“And why do we leave?” she asked, without showing
any real interest in his answer.
“Our work is done, but there are many reasons besides.
It is not pleasant living so close to war and death and sad-
ness; there is so little sunshine in this land; there are so


126
THE IVORY DISC
few who have time to study the languages I teach; there
are "
"I want the real reason,” she said slowly. “It is for
me to decide whether I shall leave England.”
Something in her attitude evidently surprised the Pro-
fessor. She was suddenly keenly alive, very definite, very
sure of herself.
“You and I, Estelle, are not like other people,” he said
after a moment's pause, and his tone changed, although it
was still masterful, and the deference which he usually paid
his wife was almost entirely lacking. “We are not content
to skim the surface of things and think ourselves happy.
At times we look into the vast depths and understand. You
are especially blessed for you have been given power to
look into the human heart and see the evil in it when the
rest of the world is ignorant that such evil exists. It
has been my joy to help you, my privilege to help you as
no one else could.”
“As no one else could," she repeated.
"Is it not true?”
“Yes. I have felt it.”
“And at this moment we are not bound very closely to-
gether?” Bocara said, as if he would compel her to an
affirmative answer. “It is so recently that we studied
together."
“Yes, but something strange has happened.”
"Is it not usually so after we have studied together?
Some evil ceases. We know it although we cannot always
say what that evil thing is which we have conquered. We
are instruments used without conscious knowledge. It is
our privilege, yours and mine."
“This time it was different, and I never felt less bound
to you than I do at this moment. I shall never study with
you again.”


THE IVORY DISC
127
ter a pause., is finished.
begun.”
“It will be in a different way,” he said.
“No, it will be never in any way. I cannot tell you
why I know this, but I do. It is not a belief but a certain
knowledge. Everything is different. This time no evil
has ceased to exist. It is rampant and wanders loose
tonight.”
Bocara looked at her keenly and was at a loss how to
answer. She was not in the mood in which he expected
to find her.
“It is because circumstances have changed,” he said
after a pause. “That is why we are leaving England
where our work is finished.”
“Finished! It has not yet begun.”
"It is finished,” he said. “Presently you will under-
stand. There is other work to do. You have had strange
visions, Estelle, is it not so?”
“Visions ?” and there was a note of interrogation in her
voice.
“Visions, yes, I know, for they have come to me also,
glorious visions," he said in a soft but tense tone. “Listen,
Estelle, I will tell you why everything is different. Only
gradually will you understand, but full knowledge will
surely come. I shall still be your teacher but in another
way. It has been my part, first to save you from death,
then to care for you as a child, then to marry you that
you might remain a child and not be as other women.
Yours was a higher mission, given you by unseen powers,
and I was chosen to guard you while you fulfilled your des-
tiny, knowing that some day, when your work was done,
I should receive my reward. Your work is finished.”
“And your reward ?” she asked.
“That is the glorious vision which has come to me, a
vision from one of the high peaks of life, a far vision seen
through clear air. It is ordained that I should be no more


THE IVORY DISC
129
"You came and stirred it, this passion of mine. Your
girlish beauty woke it, and no more was there for me any
woman in the world but you. You were my child, more
passionately loved than child had ever been, and passion
burned more fiercely in me day by day as you grew to
perfect womanhood. To touch your hand was to be
thrilled, to feel your body touch mine for a moment was
to realize exquisite pain. Yet I suppressed my passion.
I must wait because you were not as other women. I must
wait and watch until you awoke. I must be a silent wor-
shipper until the appointed time. The hour has struck.
Tonight I kiss your knees in reverence, and tonight I shall
kiss your lips, holding them to mine until you, too, shall
burn with the fire of love. Tonight "
He sprang to his feet, his arms flung out wide to clasp
her, but in the moment of release she had stepped back
and the chair was between them.
“Estelle!”
“Did I not say evil was wandering loose tonight?”
“Not evil but love."
A quiver ran through her body. Love she knew, but
this was evil. The hot words of passion were hateful, they
were like the panting fetid breath of some wild beast
savagely gloating over a caught victim. Her whole being
shivered at the thought of his touch. His praise made her
despise her own beauty, his talk of kissing sickened her,
made her feel unclean. She saw him as she had never
seen him before, an animal, glorying in his passion, only
waiting and longing to possess. It was horrible to know
that for years his thoughts had soiled her. The knowledge
touched in her that innate savagery which is in every woman
when the sanctuary of her womanhood is threatened.
“Yes, there is love,” she said fiercely, “but not for you.
It is love, but not the love you speak of.”


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131
as
had come to me, that was a lie, it was good, it was love."
“You cannot know, you deceived yourself.”
"I was sure," she answered, "for the love that came
to me, which I was bidden to destroy, was under the pro-
tection of my love. I cannot tell you what I said or did.
Can you explain? It seemed to me that partly you were
responsible."
“Tell me all,” Bocara said, no movement in him beyond
his lips. Had he failed, altogether failed ?
“I awoke. I came out of my dream a different woman.
You have never before seen the woman you are looking
at now. As you say, I think my work is finished. If I
hold converse with the high gods again it will be in a dif-
ferent way. I shall never study again with you. I awoke
to the consciousness of being in a darkened room and was
looking at a wooden idol.”
“Have you no fear, Estelle?”
“No. I have clearer vision, that is all. In some way
you are responsible for the change in me.”
“Tomorrow, Estelle, "
“It is still tonight,” she said. “If you fling back a cur-
tain you will look upon a moonlit garden. I think I know
you for what you really are. It is strange your heart
should be the one I could not look into. I cannot picture
you with any place in my tomorrow.”
“Do you bid me look into the garden that you may escape
from the room ?” he asked, his body quivering with anger.
“I have no fear either of you or of the wooden image.
I grow more wide-awake with each breath I take. A
strange exaltation is in my soul. It is good that it is still
tonight for tonight brings clearer and clearer vision."
· “And the night is love's time," said Bocara, a sibilance
in his voice which made Estelle's hands tighten as they
rested on the chair back. “You are a different woman, it


132
THE IVORY DISC
is true, gloriously true. Yes, I am responsible for the
change in you, and shall teach you again. As I have
taught you mental exaltation so will I teach you a rapture
which is physical. You are a woman to be loved as woman
should be, and I alone shall teach you love. You are
mine, this also is gloriously true. All the world knows you
are mine, and it is tonight, still tonight-love's time."
Passion and anger were let loose. With a sudden move-
ment he swung the chair from between them. It fell
against the table on which the coffee things were, over-
turning it, smashing the delicate and costly china.
“Stop!” she cried, so imperiously that the man obeyed.
He was a lithe animal arrested at the very moment of his
spring. For an instant he was afraid of the woman stand-
ing tense and erect within a yard of him. It passed. If
superstition gave him momentary pause, he realized that
she was different tonight, that she was heretic to the bonds
which had bound her, therefore unprotected.
“What can you do?” he laughed. She was not to be
persuaded then must he take by force. “What can you
do? Even if you could reach the bell yonder and summon
a servant, would he dare to oppose my will! You are
mine.”
His arms were round her, his face close to hers.
“You are mine. Would he dare to attempt to prevent
me claiming my own? Dare you deny me? I am your
husband. Give me yourself, Estelle," and for an instant
his voice fell to sudden pleading. “Give, give, it is a gift
I ask. The fault is yours if my pleading grows rough.”
"Never,” she said, shrinking from him.
“In name you are mine, and I swear you shall be mine
in fact, if not willingly then by force."
She stiffened in his embrace, and he laughed. His hot
breath was on her cheek.


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133
“I shall take what you will not give. Tomorrow is not
yet you say, that is well. Before morning my love shall
crown you. Tonight these lips are for my kisses. You
shall be mine tonight. Tomorrow_let tomorrow bring
what it will, tonight is mine, mine beyond all fear of rob-
bery. A kiss, Estelle, a kiss such as yet you have never
known.”
“It shall be a death kiss if you dare to take it," she cried.
Bocara sprang back with a short exclamation of terror.
From her bosom, from the silver sheath hidden there, she
had drawn a tiny dagger. It seemed a toy, a small thing
to bring such great terror, yet the thin, keen blade looked
deadly. It gleamed in the light of the jewel-like lamp, the
point of it catching a flush of red as if blood already
stained it.
"Touch me, come near me again,” she said, “and I use
it. Even a scratch, a pin prick, will kill. Tomorrow shall
bring what it will to both of us. The past is over-
finished.”
Watching him lest he should attempt to seize her un-
awares, she slowly crossed the room.
“Estelle!”
.“Stay where you are. You are evil. I am wholly
awake," and she went out, closing the door.
Bocara stood looking at the closed door, his hands
clenched, his eyes aflame. He was not a coward. The
tiny dagger, toylike yet deadly, had frightened him, but
that alone would not have restrained him from action; it
was the woman herself who held him. He had expected to
find her in a different mood tonight, amenable to his will ;
instead, she had called him evil, had threatened his life,


134
THE IVORY DISC
had snapped the bonds which bound them together. Al-
ways she had claimed freedom of action, never before had
she asserted entire independence of him.
“Am I to fail at this eleventh hour?” he said aloud.
“After I have risked so much, accomplished so much, am
I to fail? Are the gods gone mad?”
He flung out the question with something of the same
passion with which Estelle had appealed to the wooden
image, and he was thinking not only of the woman but of
all she stood for in his scheme of life. Tonight, Bocara
had endeavored to show his wife the crowning moment of
a love suppressed for her sake, of a passion which had
burned and smothered within him since she had first come
into his life, and which had been held in check only by
his strong will. Possibly he believed that what he said
was true, too carried away by the fire which consumed him
to realize what it was which had set that fire burning so
furiously. It was a genuine passion but it was of recent
birth. There had been times when desire had come to
him—that night in Paris for instance—but they were sud-
den gusts, stirred by fortuitous circumstances and not
understood by Estelle, and they had died again as suddenly
as they had been aroused. It may be that Bocara had
looked forward to ultimate reward, but chiefly he had been
intent on keeping Estelle a woman apart, knowing not love,
passionless, child-like in her emotions, so that she might
fulfil with him the work he had set himself to do. He
was superstitious, the work was more to him than the
woman, and his stability of purpose and power of self sup-
pression were far greater than most men's. For the
work's sake it was possible he might have been content to
let the bond between them remain always as it was. The
coming of Bruce Oliver had changed everything, and the
knowledge that another man had awakened love in the


THE IVORY DISC : 135
woman Bocara had protected as his child immediately
caused a fierce rivalry to surge within him. An over-
powering desire took possession of him. In an instant he
descended from a plane mostly spiritual to one wholly
physical.
“Evil!" and he ground his heel on a fragment of the
broken, china lying by the overturned table. “Evil! Is
it evil when a man desires his own wife?"
Again the question was flung out as a challenge. Right
was his and that right he would exercise. She was his
wife and she should bow to his will as it was right a woman
should. Who could stand in his way?
“This cursed doctor-- " he burst out and then paused.
Perhaps a ray from the lamp touched some point in the
room with red, reminding him of the tiny dagger which
had seemed to be touched with blood, “No, it is the woman
herself. This cursed doctor cannot matter. Certainly he
cannot matter, A little patience, a little What can
have happened since I have been away?”.
With sudden resolution he went into the hall and called
a servant.
“Did Dr. Oliver come yesterday?” he asked.
“He came to see Madame."
“And he saw her?”
“I took him and showed him the door of the little temple.
I went no further than the little temple."
“And when he left, what manner had he when he left?”
“I did not see him when he left. I did not see him after
I had shown him to the door of the little temple, and I
did not see Madame come from the temple."
Bocara looked at him steadily for a few moments, then
dismissed him, and as soon as he had gone went to the door
opening on to the stone passage. At the door of the temple
he paused. It was possible Estelle had come here straight


136
THE IVORY DISC
from the drawing room, and thinking he had followed her,
she might use the tiny dagger without further warning.
She might kill him or herself, or it might be that death
was here already. He was prepared to defend himself
as he opened the door and cautiously swung back the heavy
curtain. Moonlight came faintly through the opaque win-
dow and touched the hangings which concealed the altar.
It shed a vague light on a dark heap lying on the floor,
and Bocara drew in a quick breath through his teeth. He
went closer, satisfaction rather than fear in his movement,
and then he stopped again. It was only a heavy robe lying
there, lying in a ring. It puzzled him, he did not under-
stand why it should be there, and he glanced quickly about
him, fearing some danger hidden in the shadows. There
was no movement anywhere and he went to the altar and
pulled the cord which parted the hangings. For a few
moments he stood looking up at the image, muttering a
prayer perhaps, or it may be thinking of Estelle's state-
ment that she had changed and was only conscious of a
wooden idol; and then he looked at the chains and the
jewels which Estelle had placed upon the shawl on the
altar. He hesitated for a little while, as a man who fears
to be sacrilegious, then he picked up one of the rings, and
drawing the curtains sharply together again went hastily
out of the temple to his study.
The moonlight faded from the garden, the first streak
of the dawn showed in the East. Silence was in the house.
A stair may have creaked in the night, or from behind the
wainscoting a stealthy sound may have come, the nibbling
of a rat, but they made no impression on the man sitting
there by the light of a single hanging lamp, his eyes fixed
upon the ring which lay on the table before him.


CHAPTER IX
“Youth has faced realities and is asking clamorous ques-
tions."
BRUCE OLIVER had forgotten all about the appointment he
had made with Gerald Palgrave until the servant showed
him into the study.
“You look exceedingly busy,” Palgrave said, pointing
to the pile of books upon the table.
“I am, but I am glad to see you nevertheless. I am
trying to solve a problem which touches time and space,
mystery, and the devil himself.”
“A tall order, Oliver.”
“I want to tell you about it. I had not decided to do
80 when I got your letter, but I have come to the conclusion
that I want a friend rather badly. You may be able to
help me. There are the cigars."
“My dear fellow, I asked for an appointment because
I wanted to do the talking,” Palgrave returned, "and you
have got to listen to me because it is serious.”
"Light a cigar, Gerald, you will talk better. We both
appear fairly wide awake so we'll thrash out this business
even if the sitting lasts a night and a day. Have you come
to advise me to deny the things which are being said about
137


140
THE IVORY DISC
“And not for the first time. I have got quite used to
being talked about."
“The talk used to be vague questions, Oliver, now it has
become statements of facts. Only the other day I heard
it stated that you had a wonderful laboratory where you
were in the habit of torturing animals. Quite recently I
heard a man, whose position in the medical world must give
weight to his words, declare that it was known amongst
hospital men that you had operated merely for the sake of
acquiring knowledge and with little or no consideration
for the patient's welfare."
“It is true I have operated when no one else would,
chancing alleviation or a cure against certain death, but
in every case the patient has known the hazard and was
prepared to take the risk. Your medical friend put the
matter crudely, to say the least of it."
“Some persons have gone further,” Palgrave continued.
"Drugs were mentioned at the inquest on Ockenden. If
death were not due to heart disease it might be due to
drugs-poison. It was remembered that you were an ex-
pert on out-of-the-way poisons and had written articles
and pamphlets on the subject.”
“Since collected and published in a small volume," said
Oliver. “That is the book by the cigar box, the red-cov-
ered one. I have been consulting it myself this evening.”
Palgrave took it up and looked at the binding and the
title.
“There was only one more step for these persons to
take,” he said, “and some of them have taken it. Was it
possible, they asked, that you had caused the deaths of
Scrivener and Ockenden, perhaps in the interests of
science?”
“They were uncertain regarding the motive, eh? My
word, that is giving a dog a bad name and hanging him
with a vengeance, isn't it?"


THE IVORY DISC
141
“Don't you see, Oliver, that you cannot allow such things
to be said and take no steps to defend yourself. You
would not be the first doctor who had brought an action
for libel. I could supply you with a name or two, no
doubt Nurse Houghton could supply others.”
“And frankly you have grave doubts about me your-
self, is that the crux of the whole matter?”
“I am in the position of a detective working out a case.”
"That is not a very direct answer to my question,” said
Oliver. “You are not quite convinced that I am guilty,
and if conviction comes you will no doubt excuse me by
pronouncing me mad.”
“If conviction came probably I should, and it might
come if you refuse to prosecute."
“You would force my hand to clear up your own
doubts.”
“Can you wonder at my attitude ?” Palgrave asked.
"To be definite in a case of this kind is a little difficult
but I must admit a theory into which you might fit. Peri-
odic madness is a possible condition I take it?”.
“Oh, undoubtedly. Popular idea has connected such a
condition with the moon.”
“Is that idea wholly exploded ?” Palgrave asked.
“Scientifically I should say it was, but I will not be
dogmatic on the point. I have quite recently come to the
conclusion that in many things it has not been given to
science to say the last word. The moon may have, prob-
ably has, an exciting influence on some temperaments.
Has your theory anything to do with the moon ?”
“It has. These two deaths have many things in com-
mon. Nominally at any rate both men died from heart
disease, both after dinner at the Dealtrys’; both were well
known, even famous men, and both died at the full moon.”
“And it was full moon only a few hours ago," said Oli.
ver. “The coincidence is very interesting."


142
THE IVORY DISC
Palgrave regarded him keenly for a moment, speculating
whether the remark might not be an indirect proof that
his theory was near the truth.
“Here are the dates,” he said after a pause, taking a
small diary from his pocket. “Between these two dates
there were of course many others when the moon was full,
and I have searched the newspaper files to see if any mys-
terious death occurred on the intervening dates. I have
found nothing. No famous men met their death mys-
teriously at this precise time. One of the points of simi-
larity is that the two victims we know were famous, and
my theory demands that the madman would be consistent,
would only attack well-known people.”
“That is certainly a point to remember," said Oliver.
“I must urge another point,” Palgrave went on. “At
the two dinners in question, excepting our host and hostess,
only you, Ockenden and I were present on both occasions."
“Are you quite sure of that?” Oliver asked with in-
terest.
“Absolutely certain."
"Do you happen to know anything of Scrivener's move-
ments on the day he dined with the Dealtrys?"
“He attended a political luncheon and afterwards was
one of the speakers at a woman's political league at the
Caxton Hall."
"I was at neither function,” said Oliver. “I must say
you have worked up the case most thoroughly, Palgrave.
A man, sane as a rule, has periods of homicidal mania
corresponding to the time of the full moon, and in his
sane moments has no knowledge whatever of what he has
done in his mad ones, is that it?"
“Is it impossible?”
"No, and I certainly might fit the theory.”
“There is one more point which tears a big rent in my


THE IVORY DISC
143
theory,” said Palgrave. "Have you ever heard of Dupont
-Emile Dupont?”.
1 “I don't think so.”.
“He is a French artist, an impressionist, and besides a
rather rabid patriot and politician, one of those dreamers
who, without doing very much themselves, inspire men to
work towards the realization of the dreams. He died on
the fourteenth of September last year in the same way
as Ockenden did.”
“Where?”
“In Paris."
“Dupont, Scrivener, Ockenden," said Oliver, musingly,
as if his thoughts had wandered away from his companion's
theory. "Three famous men.”
“With this difference,” said Palgrave. “Dupont died
at the new not at the full moon.”
“That is a big rent in the theory, isn't it?” Oliver re-
turned.
“Yes, and you were in Rouen at the time."
Oliver looked at him for a few moments in silence. The
suggestion of doubt was the most definite Palgrave had
made.
“It happens that I was in Paris for a few days," he said
quietly. “I was there on the fourteenth of September.”
2
Oliver threw a half smoked cigarette on to the hearth
and went to the sideboard.
“You have finished, I suppose ?”
“Yes."
“And you cannot say that I have not listened patiently.
Have a drink? You deserve it, and it will fortify you to
listen to my confidence."


144
THE IVORY DISC
“No, thanks, I won't drink just now.”
“Afraid of my expert knowledge of poisons, eh?” said
Oliver, helping himself. “I assure you, you are quite safe.
You hardly rank amongst the famous, do you! Better
change your mind.”
“I don't think it is a joking matter, Oliver."
“I never felt less like joking in my life," was the an-
swer. “Dupont's death tears a considerable rent in your
theory, if your facts are correct, but perhaps it can be
mended. I have been working at a problem, too, burning
the midnight oil over it, studying bits in almost every book
on the table there, and forfeiting sleep. My problem hinges
on yours, and we may help each other. You have not told
me much I do not know, except about Dupont,I have
never heard his name before as far as I can remember.
Believe me, Palgrave, I am not pleased at being talked
about, but before I decide upon any action I want to give
you my confidence. And that you may thoroughly under-
stand my position I will show you the famous laboratory
of which people tell such queer tales. Moreover, you shall
witness a little experiment.”
Setting down his empty glass, Oliver crossed the room
and opened the door in the panelling.
“I don't think I want to witness any experiment,” said
Palgrave.
“Will you change your mind and have a drink first ?"
“No, thanks. A secret door, eh?”
“This entrance was designed for convenience as a matter
of fact not for secrecy, although it happens to be secret
enough to be a point against me," said Oliver with a touch
of sarcasm in his voice.
Palgrave became suddenly interested in his cigar, the
short end remaining appeared to be coming unrolled. He
was startled at being taken into confidence in this pre


THE IVORY DISC
145
cipitous fashion. He could not forget this was the time
of full moon. Oliver's quick knowledge of the fact with-
out its being called to his notice was disconcerting. His
whole attitude of mind was, to say the least, peculiar, and
Palgrave was by no means certain that he had not to deal
with a periodic madman at the time when he was most
dangerous. His theory certainly demanded that the victim
must be famous in some way, a condition to which he could
lay no claim, but at this moment he was not so confident
of this part of his theory. He had no desire to enter the
laboratory just now. With the secret door closed upon
them—well, anything might happen.
Oliver understood some of the thoughts which were pass-
ing through his companion's mind.
“Afraid ?” he asked.
“Afraid! No."
“A little, I think,” said Oliver. "Is it of the experi-
ment or of me?"
“Of neither.”
“Come then. For your comfort let me say that I have
an idea that periodic madmen are consistent, and there
is nothing dreadful about the experiment I am going to
show you."
Palgrave threw away the end of his cigar.
“Badly rolled,” he remarked. “I am ready."
“That is plucky of you. I am inclined to think the
greatest heroes must be looked for amongst the nervous
men. I will close this door. I loathe being disturbed
when I am working down here. There are six steps. Let
me go first and switch on a light. Do not expect to see
anything very wonderful or very dreadful because you
won't.”
Palgrave was not afraid, but he was very much on his
guard as he followed the doctor down the half dozen steps.


THE IVORY DISC
147
you must take my word for it that he is perfectly healthy.
We put him on the table. He is not in the least afraid
you see. We will give him something to eat while we make
our préparations."
Palgrave was on his guard. He might have to deal
with a madman before he was many minutes older, and he
intended to be extremely careful. He would not help the
experiment in any way. He would not touch anything.
“Is the experiment really necessary?” he asked.
“Yes. I want an unbiased opinion, an opinion free from
all medical prejudice. You are not going to see anything
disgusting. Our little friend here is not going to suffer
an instant's pain, but I want you to watch him steadily
all the time so that you can recall details. They are of the
utmost importance. Details carefully noted in this labo-
ratory, Palgrave, have enabled me to save many lives in
France, and in the future may lead to the conquest of dis-
eases which at present cause the death of thousands of
men, women and children. The tragedy of an animal
doesn't really count against that, does it? Do you wonder
that I don't care a damn what people say about me?"
Oliver placed a small box upon the table, a sealed tube
containing a tiny quantity of a colorless, oily liquid, a
hypodermic needle, and then put on a pair of gloves.
“We will put this food on the box," he said. “You will
observe, Palgrave, that the rat will have to sit on its
haunches to reach it. See, there is something human about
the way he uses his forepaws. We let him have that bit
to whet his appetite. It is quite evident he appreciates it,
and will go for the next morsel we put there with avidity.
You must wait a minute, friend rat. We get a drop of
this liquid on to the needle, rather a delicate business, Pal-
grave, and don't you touch anything,—just watch."
The rat allowed Oliver to handle it, and did not appear
to feel the prick of the needle.


THE IVORY DISC
149
“I am glad I have seen it.”
“You answer as carefully as if you were in a witness
box," said Oliver a little irritably as he lighted a cigarette,
and then after a pause he went on: “Since I have written
on the subject it will not surprise you when I say that I
have experimented in various ways with little known
poisons. In that small cabinet in my laboratory I have
some poisons which Featherstone brought me—the African
traveller, you know, vegetable concoctions chiefly, used for
poisoning arrows and for all sorts of deviltry by the native
medicine man. There are one or two poisons in that cab-
inet which I doubt whether anyone else in this country has
handled. Chiefly my experiments have been for the pur-
pose of trying to discover antidotes to various forms of
disease. Your medical friend whose word carries such
weight would not believe me, perchance, but I want you
to be friendly and give me the benefit of the doubt.”
“I am anxious to hear about the stuff you used tonight,"
said Palgrave.
“You must let me tell my story in my own way," said
Oliver. “Quite recently I have been experimenting for a
different purpose, trying to solve a problem which has
troubled me, trying, in short, to produce the effect which
you have seen tonight. That poison I have only had in my
possession for two or three days. It was given me, or
rather lent to me, by a doctor who has had a lot of plague
experience in India, and who happens to be rather inter-
ested in some of my work.”
“What poison is it?”
“It comes from a small but particularly deadly snake
found in India, and only there, I believe. The poison in
the tube you saw is not pure. Some native scientist has
discovered a method of doctoring it whereby its potency is
greatly increased while its action remains to all intents and


THE IVORY DISC
151
exists. Let me assure you that Smith is real and that
neither he nor I is responsible for these deaths.”
“But you know who is.”
“I can only answer vaguely by saying that my word
would carry little weight, and that the only evidence I could
bring forward would almost certainly cause suspicion to
fall on the wrong person.”
“Certainly that is a good reason for silence," said Pal-
grave.
“You agree that as matters are at present I should not
be believed unless I could produce proof which a blind man
could almost see.”
“It is really your own fault, Oliver.”
“And I am going a step further still. I am going to
place myself outside the respectable pale altogether. I
am going to run away with another man's wife.”
“Nonsense. I cannot imagine your being such a fool.”
"Why not? I have the reputation of not studying con-
ventions. Theoretical revolutionists are amongst the first
to be shocked by the practical performer. I have not read
it, but I believe Lady Dealtry wrote a most daring book
some time ago, and I am sure she will be among the first
to punish my slip from the social highway to the best of
her ability. I am running away with Madame Bocara.”
“Estelle Bocara!” Palgrave exclaimed.
“It has a very ordinary, common, and sordid sound,
hasn't it? Having shocked you with the bare statement
I will try and justify myself.”
“You mustn't do it, Oliver. Think of your career,
your "
“My dear fellow, let us get to bedrock. Did you not
come here this evening to convince me that my career was
in jeopardy unless I prosecuted somebody?”
“But this is quite another matter," Palgrave returned.


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“Is it? Do you know Madame Bocara's history?"
"No."
“I am going to tell it to you as I know it from her, and
from her husband.”
Oliver threw away the dead stump of a cigarette, and
leaning forward in his chair he told the whole story as
he knew it, bare facts without comment, and without any
attempt to explain the woman's mystical attitude or the
position her husband had deliberately chosen to occupy.
"The story helps me to understand her better," said
Palgrave when Oliver had finished. “She has always been
an enigma to me."
"Those are just the dry facts," Oliver went on. "Let
us keep the story on its low level for the moment. You
understand, Palgrave, there has been no love, on her side
at any rate, and there has been no real marriage; now
love has come to her and we are going away.”
“Of course, it is a strange story, a romantic one, if you
like, but in the divorce court- "
"Exactly. Popular prejudice will not differentiate it
from the sordid tales which are dressed out in sensation
to sell the evening papers," said Oliver. “We shall have
kicked over the hard traces of convention and are therefore
condemned. But believe me, Palgrave, even along the deep
and narrow ruts of convention which the world has dug
there is going to be a general crumbling before we are
much older. This war has set the picks of destruction to
work, and the trench system in religion, in social affairs,
in politics, in everything, is going to be cleared away. The
preliminary rumble of the destruction is even now in our
ears. The old order is in process of being pitched over-
board, Palgrave."
“Very likely," was the answer, “but even so I fail
to see the excuse for running away with another man's


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153
wife. Even youth may pull up short before considering
that an estimable performance.”
“Enthusiasm runs away with me,” said Oliver gravely.
"You must forgive me. My mind has lately worked on
wide plains and is perhaps a little out of focus. I am a
traveller in a strange country with a very imperfect knowl-
edge of the language. But consider the position for a
moment, still on its low level. Is such a marriage as the
Bocaras' right?”
“Perhaps not.”
“Doesn't the very idea of it fill you with loathing?”
“I am not so easily moved; besides, if, as I understand
you, the time is coming when all men shall approach a
better equality, then we must not quarrel with such a
marriage. The Egyptian, or whatever he is, is as good as
the white woman."
“That isn't true," said Oliver. “You must not touch
fundamentals. Your parson, learning a wider religious
sympathy, does not let go fundamentals, he only realizes
the deeper meaning in them. Such a marriage is hideous."
“Still, I do not gather that the woman was forced into
it; she acted on her own free will."
“She had the heart of a child, Palgrave, and did not
understand. She has the heart of a child still. She sees
no shadow of wrong in what she is doing. To love me is
natural, wholly good and right.”
"Have you explained things to her?” Palgrave asked.
“Fully, the world, the flesh and the devil, and they inter-
est her as little as Xenophon would interest a cradled
babe.”
“I can sympathize to some extent, but if you want my
advice "
“I don't, old chap. It is a vice of mine never to ask
advice, I always decide for myself. But I do want your


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157
“I was telling him. What has happened, dear?”.
“I have come to you, Bruce, and I can never go away
any more.”
Oliver took her in his arms. She was afraid. He had
seen fear in her eyes the moment she had entered the room.
“You must hold me fast, Bruce,” she whispered, cling-
ing to him, "so close that between us nothing can ever
come. You must never let me see him again. If he comes
here you must hide me.”
He put her gently into a big armchair and sat on the
arm of it.
“You are safe with me. Tell me all that has happened.”
"Tell me first what I did when you came to Lantern
House, to the temple. Tell me everything, leave nothing
unsaid.”
Oliver told her exactly what she had done, and repeated
almost every word she had said.
“You are sure you did not touch me," she said.
“Quite sure. You would not let me come near you."
“It is wonderful," she said with a little sigh of con-
tentment. “I do not really understand what has hap-
pened, but I will explain as well as I can. Bruce, dear,
I do not worship an idol, as you call it, but an Almighty
Power of which that image you saw is the symbol. It is
natural to express the unknown by a sign, and the ignorant
may in error worship the symbol rather than the reality.
It is always the same, this difference between the ignorant
and the learned. In this land is there not a difference?
You have a cross, it is not your God but it speaks to you
of your God. Sometimes you have images, too. Surely
the ignorant often pray to the cross and these images. No,
there is not much difference between you and me. Here
you speak of faith, in the East we think we have knowl.
edge. Now, I was set apart for a great work, Bruce."


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THE IVORY DISC
“Who told you so?” Oliver asked.
“No one told me, the knowledge came. I cannot explain
that work, but in some special way which I do not really
understand, my mission was to fight sin and evil. Often
it was an evil which the world did not recognize, something
hidden. obscure. Talking now, here in this room in a
normal way, it is very difficult to explain. I have been
only the instrument, and the tool cannot know what is in
the mind of the user. I have told you of my times of ela-
tion followed by quiet peace. It was then, I believe, that
my work was accomplished.”
“How ?"
“I cannot tell, I do not know. Perhaps the Professor
does, because he has helped me."
“In what way?”
“We have talked together of the evil that is in the world.
We have studied the religions of the East together."
“And you have become elated and forgetful of your-
self as he talked with you?” Oliver asked.
“Sometimes, but more often the change in me did not
seem to come at once, and at times I did not respond at
all."
“You are sure of that?”
“Quite," she answered. “When elation came it was
something in myself which occasioned it. Study with the
Professor seemed to help me, that was all.”
"Perhaps I shall be able to explain that later,” said
Oliver. “Tell me about tonight.”
“Tonight he said that my work was finished, that we
were to leave England, that, " She broke off suddenly
and shuddered.
“Have no fear, Estelle. He shall never hurt you nor
come near you again.”
“It was horrible,” she said. “It is difficult to tell it


162
THE IVORY DISC
"Her present position is impossible," he went on, "and
I rejoice this has happened in an open way while you were
in the house. I will give you more explicit information
when I have got Estelle into safety. You and Martha
Houghton shall know the exact truth and help us to explain
to the world. Now come in and talk to Estelle.”
Gerald Palgrave got a vague impression that the cir-
cumstances were exceptional, but at the same time had a
very clear conviction that Oliver was taking a plunge into
social ruin. Madame Bocara might have come to Hobart
Place unexpectedly tonight, but the fact remained that
Oliver could not have been taken wholly by surprise since
he had made such careful and detailed arrangements for
running away with another man's wife. Palgrave won-
dered what Philippa would say to him for lending himself
to an intrigue, for an intrigue it was, however interesting
and out of the common it might be.
When Oliver heard the car he went to meet Nurse
Houghton in the hall and took her into the dining room.
“You have come prepared to go out of town, Little
Mother?”
“Of course.”
“I am sorry to rush you at the last moment, but I can-
not help it," and very briefly Oliver explained the position
and gave her instructions. “I expect to come down early
tomorrow, but if I should be kept in town until the next
day you know what to do and how to treat your patient.
I will explain everything more fully when I come.”
“As you will. I am engaged as a nurse."
“Nothing of the kind. You are asked us the best friend
I have to help the woman I love. You said you would
never judge me by the standard of other men, stick to that
and reserve until later any censure which may be in your
mind at this moment. I want you to get off at once."


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163
Oliver was almost nervously anxious to get them started
on their journey, he hardly gave nurse and patient time to
greet each other.
“You will come tomorrow, Bruce?” said Estelle, holding
him back when Martha Houghton and Palgrave had gone
out to the hall.
“You are mine now, nothing shall keep me away from
you."
"I shall be miserable until you come.”
“I forbid you to be miserable again.”
“Then you must never leave me any more.”
“A little patience, darling, and then we shall be together
always. Good-night, my love, and—and God bless us
both.”
The car was at the door, and while Palgrave helped the
travellers to make themselves comfortable, Oliver gave Wil-
liams his instructions.
“You know the way, Williams?”
“Yes, sir, as far as the inn.”
“You take the first to the left past the inn, and the en-
trance to the cottage is on the right-a white gate. You
cannot miss it.”
“I shall find it, sir.”
“You must make things as comfortable and cozy as you
can until I come, Little Mother. Tomorrow we will begin
turning the place into a paradise.”
The car glided smoothly away, and a few moments later
Oliver and Palgrave watched the tail light vanish round
the corner of Hobart Place.
“You will have to breakfast with me, Palgrave,” Oliver
said as they went back to the study. “It will be day-


164
THE IVORY DISC
light before I am through with what I want to say. The
unexpected which has happened tonight makes it impera-
tive that you should know the whole story at once.”
“I have promised friendship, and friendship endures all
things, even an all-night sitting. It does not bar criticism,
however. This affair means social ruin, old chap."
“It means something far more important a woman's
salvation,” Oliver returned, lighting a cigarette. “We'll
cut the social part of the business for the present and get
back to my experiment and your theory. I have had a
bad time, Palgrave, and it is not over yet, but I am happier
tonight than I have been for days—it seems years. It is
an immense relief to know that Estelle is safe. You think
I am a fool, and you are not quite convinced that I am not
a homicidal maniac. First as to being a fool. I confess
that, even were there no extraordinary circumstances in
connection with Estelle Bocara I should have fallen madly
in love with her, should have been tempted to risk every-
thing for her, and the temptation might possibly have
proved too strong to resist. No man knows the strength
of his armor until he has tested it in actual conflict. Still,
I believe I should have resisted the temptation, not on my
own account perhaps, but on hers. I do not much care
what people say of me, but for her "
“They will talk of her, Oliver. It is no good shutting
your eyes to that fact.”
“Wait. Let us first consider the other point, the excep-
tional circumstances, as they are, not as a man in love
might imagine them.”
“Bocara being married to such a woman may be very
disgusting,” said Palgrave, “but it is not going to help
you much as an excuse for running away with her.”
“I am not looking for excuses,” Oliver returned. “I
am going to stick to facts. Ockenden's death puzzled me;


THE IVORY DISC
165
even when the post-mortem showed no signs of poison I
was not satisfied that poison was not the cause of his death.
I could have said a great deal at the inquest concerning
poisons which leave no trace, but I had no definite evi-
dence to offer. As I told you in the laboratory, I have since
then been experimenting with poisons, but I found no clue
to the cause of Ockenden's death until the phial I used
tonight was lent me. I had a vague theory, but nothing
definite, nothing that I could prove, so I remained silent.
Now that phial, Palgrave, contains an Indian poison which
is difficult to get, and is known only to a few people; does
the fact suggest nothing to you?”
“Bocara. Do you mean "
“The thought of Bocara would hardly have kept me
silent at the inquest.”
“You mean- Surely you cannot mean Madame Bo
cara?”
“I do. The horrible suspicion—it was no more was in
my mind from the first. And I loved her, Palgrave. You
may guess something of the kind of hell in which I have
been living, that hell which is the consciousness of heaven
just out of reach. It is always along the narrow dividing
line between good and bad where men and women suffer
most, the really vicious get some enjoyment out of their
viciousness. I have lived at the line all the time.”
Very deliberately Bruce Oliver told of the many meet-
ings in Richmond Park, gradually drawing a portrait of
Estelle which showed the mystical side of her character.
He emphasized it with many little touches, and with the
repetition of various scraps of conversation.
"You see, Palgrave, she is not as other women are. I
have not exaggerated her attitude in the least degree, I
am speaking of her out of my experience. I am not letting
imagination run away with me. A few days ago I could


THE IVORY DISC
769
there can be explained. It is used for purposes of trickery,
no doubt, but it is used in serious matters, too."
“Mesmerism ?” Palgrave queried.
“That is a crude form of it, one of the cruder forms.
The suggestion I mean is far more subtle than what we
usually term mesmerism. It may, for instance, act upon
a crowd, each individual in that crowd adding something
to the strength of the suggestion, as when a lot of people
together think they see something happen which really
does not happen. Or it may act on a single individual,
the suggestion lying dormant, perhaps, until the moment
that the action which has been suggested is required.
Naturally some individuals are in a mental condition which
makes them more receptive than others, and even in the
same individual there will be more and less receptive
periods."
“It is a horrible idea," said Palgrave.
“It is more than an idea,” Oliver returned. “Ir. its
milder forms, at any rate, it is an established fact. I have
known people make a game out of it in a drawing room.
I am going to prove its more potent form to you in a mo-
ment. First, however, let me follow Estelle's position
and give you as clear a view of her case as I can. She
received a blow which stunned her directly after she had
seen her father and mother hideously butchered, and in a
state of unconsciousness she came under the influence of
Bocara who, whatever else he may or may not be, is learned
and far advanced in Eastern wisdom. You have only to
look at him to see and feel that he has mesmeric power.
I have had the opportunity of studying him in the in-
timacy of his home. Estelle has been brought up and
taught by him. For some years, at any rate, he kept her
from all contact with Western thought, he let the East
soak into her, suggesting to her all the time her general


166
THE IVORY DISC
line of thought, confident that he had found a tool to his
hand. I do not know what purpose he had in mind but
it was something fanatical, no doubt. She was abnormal,
and he gradually enlarged her mind along lines which
would suit his purpose. I cannot follow that line with
exactness, but roughly it gave her a mission, a work to
perform, and without making an actual priestess of her,
which would have meant her being taken out of his con-
trol, he dedicated her in a way to a god, perhaps to the
very god whose idol her father and mother were said to
have insulted.”
“I take it this is guesswork on your part,” said Pal-
grave, not in any scornful way but with intense interest.
“No, it is rather a logical conclusion based on my knowl.
edge of Estelle,” Oliver answered. “This particular god
would naturally have a strong effect on her mind because
of past associations. It would provide, as it were, the
line of least resistance, and Bocara was perfectly aware
that he had strong resistance to overcome. She possessed
a strong personality of her own, and he was obliged to
work in with that personality. If his purpose, for exam-
ple, was destruction, he had first to suggest that what he
wished destroyed was evil. Her demarcation between
good and evil is curiously strong.”
“And warped, do you mean?”
“Not at all. It is not the conventional idea, it is, I am
convinced, much closer to truth. With her, good and evil
are definite things, and her actions are guided entirely
by her own convictions not by what the world says her con-
victions ought to be. For her, love is the very essence of
all good, and who will deny this is a fundamental fact;
therefore she sees nothing but good in leaving Bocara, in
whom she has suddenly found evil, and coming to me. I
am humbly thankful that in me she has found only good,


THE IVORY DISC
169
unworthy though I be of such honor. You and I, Pal-
grave, have got to get rid of prejudices before we can come
near to understanding her. Much of what we call right
and wrong is the result of prejudice or of laws which
have long outlived their utility. A church, a clergyman
and a ring makes a marriage sacred in the sight of the
world, and we both know that many of these marriages
are nothing short of infamous and indecent crimes, offences
against all morality. Every doctor knows it and most
laymen, but the veil of sanctity protects what is a mere
farce.”
“Yes, that is true, but- "
“Get rid of prejudice, Palgrave, you cannot begin to
argue about real truth until you do.”
“Getting rid of prejudices usually means letting go
restraints altogether, Oliver."
“Better that for a time than living always with ban.
daged eyes,” the doctor answered. “It is better to take
a wrong road than not to move at all. Stagnation is a
crime against life. However, we need not sit at home
in our comfortable armchairs and argue about it, for the
war is stirring us up very successfully.”
“You attribute great power to Bocara,” said Palgrave.
“Power and patience,” Oliver answered. “I think he
was wise enough to understand her complex nature and
treated her accordingly. He fostered her religious bias,
succeeded in setting her apart, succeeded to a great extent
in making her dependant upon him, and so was constantly
able to suggest to her what was good and what was evil.
He was wise enough to show her real evil, allowing her
sense of right and wrong full play, and then giving her
mind no opportunity to readjust itself, he would suggest
an attack on something which was not really evil. In
short, he set a trap into which she fell.”.


172
THE IVORY DISC
“I do not."
“You do not credit it yourself ?”
“Well, there is a great deal which seems to be left unex-
plained.”
“Naturally. There is no real explanation of nine-tenths
of the things which happen daily, and which we accept
without question, still, I can go a little further with this
story and give you a personal experience the proof I spoke
of.”
In detail Bruce Oliver described his visit to the little
temple in Lantern House and showed his companion the
letter which had taken him there.
“I believe that Bocara deliberately planned my death,
Palgrave, and that I was only saved by the fact that love
had awakened in the woman. There was a real struggle
before she could force herself not to touch me, yet she
remembers nothing of what actually occurred. Had she
touched me I should almost certainly have come home to
die as Scrivener did, as Ockenden did, as Dupont did, and
God knows how many others have done of whom we know
nothing. Bocara's suggestion was strong in her; it was
only love for her natural mate which saved me. Bocara is
probably waiting to hear the news of my sudden death."
“You have left the most thrilling part of the story until
last, Oliver."
“We have come to this moment, but the story is not yet
ended. I may not succeed in convincing the world at large,
but I hope to convince my friends that Estelle is the woman
I know her to be, as innocent of evil as a child." He got
up and drew back the curtains as he spoke. "A new day
has dawned and it may prove a strenuous day. I prescribe
a cold bath before breakfast. I hope I have not wearied
you."
“At present my mind is as confused as a rugger scrum,"


CHAPTER XI
“I will adventure and play with life and death."
THE morning sunlight found its way into Hobart Place
and into Bruce Oliver's dining room. It was exhilarating,
and together with the pleasant fragrance of kidneys and
bacon and coffee, helped the doctor and his guest to forget
that the night had been a sleepless one.
A bath had certainly cleared Palgrave's brain, he was
able to think clearly, but the position only appeared the
more difficult. His promise of friendship and help had
committed him to a line of conduct which he felt would
live to regret. He was, so to speak, an accessory before
the fact, and he did not relish the prospect of being a wit-
ness in the cause celébre which was certain to come. In
cold print his share in the case would appear rather nasty.
Moreover, if Oliver were right, Madame Bocara was likely
to have to answer a charge of murder, and Palgrave could
not visualize a British jury accepting Oliver's explanation
and acquitting her as an innocent woman.
They breakfasted almost in silence, each busy with his
own thoughts.
“Let us go to the study and have a cigarette," said
Oliver. “I can talk better there."
“One cigarette and then I must be off.”
“Not yet, Palgrave,” Oliver returned, looking at his
watch.
174


176
THE IVORY DISC
But there was another idea which the cold bath set tingling
in my veins. If Bocara's influence over his wife is as
subtle in its nature as you imagine, do you suppose love
has destroyed it entirely, or that distance will render it
ineffectual ?”
“No, I do not. To free her completely may be a slow
process, and take time to accomplish. My actions must be
guided by circumstances, I cannot be definite even to my-
self at present. As soon as I can arrange matters I want
to take her out of England. I should have gone at once
to Italy had the world been in a normal condition, but
the enforced delay may be all for the best. I may be able
to convince the world of society that Estelle is a wholly
innocent woman before I take her into an entirely new
environment."
“And how are you going to do it?” Palgrave asked.
Before Oliver could answer there was a ring at the front
door bell.
“Bocara probably," he said. “I have been expecting
him."
“An appointment!”
“No. He is searching for his wife and expects to find
her here. We will have him in. Watch him closely, but
whatever you do, don't shake hands with him.”
"Hadn't I better leave you to talk with him alone?”
“I would rather you stayed, but, of course, if you object
to being mixed up in my sordid affairs "
“Don't be absurd, Oliver.”
It was Professor Bocara, and the doctor told the servant
to show him in.
Palgrave expected an angry man, but Bocara came in


THE IVORY DISC
177
as if he were a friend who could only receive a friendly
welcome.
“Ah, Doctor, this is an early visit,” he said, “but I am in
great distress.”
He did not offer to shake hands.
“Sit down, Professor. You have met Mr. Palgrave, I
think. What is the distress ?”
Bocara sat down, hardly noticing Palgrave.
“My wife, Doctor. She has left Lantern House.
“Why has she left?” Oliver asked.
“I have told you that she is a little strange at times,
and you have noticed it yourself. Last night she was in
such a mood and left the house without my knowledge."
“But what caused the mood ?”
“How can I tell ?” Bocara asked with a shrug of his
shoulders. “She is a woman.”
“Surely you must know of some definite cause,” Oliver
said quietly.
“No. You credit me with a perception I do not pos-
sess.”
“I am judging you by myself, Professor. She is a
woman, you say, as if that were explanation enough, but
to me she has always seemed a woman who would not act
without very definite reasons."
“Can you really think that!' Bocara asked with a look
of surprise.
“I think if she were here she would have no difficulty
in telling you why she left Lantern House."
It was to be a duel between the two men, and this was
the first crossing of the keen blades, as it were. Palgrave
looked quickly at each of them as they spoke. It was not
only Bocara who ignored his presence, Oliver also appeared
to have forgotten that he was in the room.


178
THE IVORY DISC
“Ah, you have not understood her," said Bocara.
“Perhaps not. Why do you come to me, Professor q”
“You are a doctor and, I believed, a friend."
“But the real reason ?” said Oliver.
“I thought I might find her here."
It seemed to Palgrave that the smoothly spoken words
were the real beginning of a deadly conflict, and he moved
his position so that he was a little behind Bocara and
could watch his movements closely. He was prepared to
spring upon him should his hand go to his pocket where
he might carry a revolver.
“She is not here," said Oliver.
“You give me your word, Doctor!"
“But she has been here."
“And returned home?" Bocara asked. “Have I passed
her as I hurried here?"
“She has not returned to Lantern House."
“Then where is she?”.
Palgrave expected Bocara to be stung to proinpt action,
but he did not move. He was perfectly calm and showed
no signs of anger.
"The questioning must not be all on your side, Pro-
fessor," said Oliver. “You say you can give no reason
for Madame's action. Think again. You will be able to
find a reason, I fancy."
“Will you help me? You can make a suggestion, per-
haps.”
"The day before yesterday I went to Lantern House."
said Oliver.
“And why not?” Bocara asked.
"I was called there by that letter,” and Oliver threw
the letter on to a small table beside which Bocara was
sitting. “I presume it is your wife's writing. It is the
only letter I have ever had from her."


THE IVORY DISC
179
“Yes, it is Estelle's.”
“When you came here this morning, Professor, you must
have been very doubtful whether I should be able to see
you."
“I do not understand, Doctor. You are thinking of
something to which I have not the key."
“Have you read that letter?” Oliver asked.
Bocara looked at the letter in his hand and then said
after a pause: “It is certainly a strange letter for my
wife to write to you.”
“Very. And she received me strangely, in a strange
place.”
“Where?”
“Your servant called it the little temple."
“Ah, then you must have disturbed Estelle at her devo-
tions. Naturally she would think it strange."
“Your servant took me there, and evidently by instruc-
tions."
"He must have misunderstood his orders."
"I do not think so, Professor, and had your wife wel-
comed me as you intended she should do, I am convinced
we should not be talking to each other at this moment."
“You are mysterious. I appeal to you, Mr. Palgrave,”
he went on, turning round suddenly, “is not the Doctor a
little mysterious? I come to ask after my wife and all
this talk which I really do not comprehend."
Palgrave looked at him and then at Oliver. He had ex-
pected an outbreak of anger, this calm individual was dis-
concerting
"No, I am at a loss,” Bocara went on. “I can only
suppose you must believe my wife a little mad, Dr. Oliver,
and have therefore advised her not to return to Lantern
House for a little while. You have found her an asylum
for a time.”


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THE IVORY DISC
“She will certainly never return to Lantern House.”
“Oh, you are too certain. The world is not full of such
certainties. I think she will return, unless "
“I have not given her any advice because I think her
mad,” said Oliver, looking fixedly at him.
“Was it perhaps because you are in love with her?”
Bocara asked, leaning forward a little, a glitter in his
dark eyes which looked dangerous although a humorous
line seemed to touch his mouth for a moment. “Ah, I see,
yes. It would have been better if we could have talked
alone, Doctor, but Mr. Palgrave-yes, I understand you
like to have him, you would feel a little awkward with me
alone. It is very natural, yet I-I would, in your place,
have kept such a thing as this entirely to myself. It will
not be good for you, for your work.”
Oliver did not answer.
“Well, we will talk quietly, and after all it is perhaps
good for me to have a witness. I understand you have
persuaded my wife to run away from me."
“I have done nothing of the kind.”
“You would not say it so crudely, but it comes to the
same thing."
"I ask you again, what caused your wife's mood last
night,” said Oliver. “Answer that question and you will
brow why she has left you.”.
“And I say again, I do not know," was the answer, and
Bocara, a little excited, had to feel for his words, and his
accent was more pronounced. “I am taken by surprise
when I find her gone. I do not expect such a thing. I
do not boast, but I have done something for Estelle. She
has been my care since she was a child. Mr. Palgrave
will not understand but- "
“He understands," said Oliver. "I have told him all
I know about you."


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181
That is so very little, but even so, if you have dealt
honestly with me, you must have spoken of' my care for
Estelle. She has some affection for me, and I think she
will return to Lantern House unless—unless I show that
I can make a sacrifice-a great sacrifice. Estelle has al-
ways been my first thought, her good, her happiness. I do
not change. Her happiness is my desire today as always,
and since she has come to you it seems she wishes for your
protection now instead of mine. Although I have not
changed, she has. Very well, I can be strong enough to
be generous. I have thought rapidly since I found she
had gone. Why should we not arrange matters, Doctor,
you and I ?"
Palgrave moved somewhat uneasily. This kind of bar-
gaining was beyond his comprehension.
“What do you propose, Professor?” Oliver asked, his
eyes still fixed steadily upon his visitor as if to read the
thoughts behind his smooth words.
“My marriage--you know the kind of marriage it has
been—your law, I think, could annul it. Has the idea
never occurred to you?”
“It has.”
“Why, then we are in excellent agreement,” said Bo-
cara with a sudden smile which betrayed his white teeth,
"and the rest is mere detail. We set Estelle right in the
eyes of the world. You and I do not much care what the
world says about us, but it hurts when the talk is about
a woman we love, is it not so ?”
“And you are prepared to do this ?” Oliver asked.
“On one condition. I must be convinced that it is
Estelle's wish. I could not take your word alone in so
important a matter. I shake your hand to seal the bar-
gain which shall bring her happiness.”
Bocara rose, still smiling, and held out his hand.


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"I will tell her what you say,” Oliver returned, but he
he did not move.
“Why not call her into this room at once, as I think
you can. It is soon settled, this bargain, and Mr. Palgrave
is fortunately here to witness it.”
“He can also tell you that Madame is not in the house."
“Ah, it is a pity,” said Bocara, still holding out his
hand. “We must go to her together.”
“We shall not do that,” said Oliver.
“You are not satisfied of my good faith: You will not
shake hands on the bargain!”
"No."
“I do not know what more I can do to convince you of
my honesty."
“Nothing you could do would convince me of it. I
know more about you, Professor, than you imagine, and
after last night your wife knows you."
“I think we must all be a little mad,” said Bocara. "I
am at a loss to understand the position. You seem to
welcome my offer, to be at one with me in it, yet you hesi-
tate to make a compact. It is a little one-sided, and per-
haps you think a man like I am should be content to await
the pleasure of Dr. Bruce Oliver. I am not content, for
you see I do not subscribe to the belief that an Englishman
is any better than-than an Indian gentleman. It is
India which I consider my own country. I have a little
pride, it is perhaps because I am a little mad. I make an
offer because I love my wife and am willing to make sacri.
fice for her, but I think I may have spoken too soon. Yes,
I have surely been too hasty. I have myself forgotten
for a moment the little detachments of my wife, and you,
Doctor, know so little about her that you argue in the
dark. A few weeks' acquaintance and you think you know
all. I had forgotten for a moment how absurd that is.


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183
You are attracted by her beauty, and she has said things
you misconstrue, others have been deceived in the same
way; and always to the real Estelle these things have
counted as nothing. She forgets them as a child forgets
the things of yesterday. She will come back to me. She
will return to Lantern House."
“I think not,” said Oliver. “I believe your power is
broken."
“My power! You speak in a riddle. I keep calm when
I ought to show anger because I feel we shall forget this
little madness presently. You will see, Doctor, we shall
be friends again. You will come to understand that you
have been indiscreet, and I shall easily forgive. Are we
not all children in the world's nursery, playing our games,
pleasant games, some of them, others not so nice? Per-
haps this is one of those not so nice. But tomorrow we
forget all the games of yesterday and begin all over again.
We shall be friends again, I am sure of it. For the present
good-bye,” and again he held out his hand.
“Ring, Palgrave, will you,” said Oliver.
For a moment Bocara seemed to hesitate, almost to
crouch as if for å spring, then he smiled and buttoned his
coat.
“I see. You cannot be friendly with the man you in-
tend to wrong if you can. An outward show of honesty
to excuse what your heart is ashamed of. Ah, but you are
a fool, Dr. Oliver, and the world is hard on fools. It for-
gives the strong sinners, but for fools it has little pity.
You will come to understand. Under changed circum-
stances we shall talk again, Dr. Oliver, and then, perhaps, I
shall become your teacher.'
Not until the front door had closed upon their visitor
did Bruce Oliver move.
“A subtle devil, Palgrave, with a will strong enough to
master his own passions."


THE IVORY DISC
185
dominion and power of suggestion. If the cause can be
removed, then— "
“You believe she will become a normal woman?” asked
Palgrave.
“She will become her real self, I hope."
Palgrave was thoughtful for a few moments.
“Yet I gather from what you have said that it is the
abnormal in her which has attracted you so strongly," he
said, “her vision, her clear insight into abstract truth, her
innocence, her child-like faith in Eastern lore. A normal
woman will not be like this."
“I do not expect to change her personality. In her the
normal will not make her like other women.”
“Still there is a danger, isn't there? You may tamper
with her personality.”
“A possible danger, perhaps,” Oliver assented. “At
the worst there is always the dagger scratch. I expect the
tiny blade has enough poison on it for the two of us, and
under certain conditions I should not scruple to use it."
“And just one other point,” said Palgrave. “If you
succeed in making a normal woman of her, the woman you
say she is, if her personality remains as beautiful as you
believe it to be, may she not, as a good woman, shrink
from becoming your mistress ?”.
“You put things crudely."
“Her readiness to be unconventional may be caused by
her not being quite normal. I am trying to look the posi-
tion squarely in the face. I do not think you have arrived
at that stage yet, Oliver.”
“Certainly I have never thought of Estelle as my mis-
tress," said Oliver slowly. “I suppose you will hardly
credit the statement, but my kind of love does not admit
that kind of thought. If by curing her, I make her less
mine, cause her to shrink from the path she has so gladly


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THE IVORY DISC
his eyes as he entered the house and called for the two
Oriental servants.
“Madame dismisses her maid," he said. “You can tell
her to come to me for payment."
The men bowed.
“Madame goes away soon for an indefinite period, so the
other servants are also dismissed.”
"Madame is not at home," said one of the men.
"I know, that is why I bring her message. She will
return when she has finished the work she is doing, then
immediately she goes to other work out of England."
In a low tone both men spoke a phrase which seemed
to express pleasure.
“Yes, a great work,” said Bocara. "I shall have to
tell you about it so that you may still serve faithfully and
gain good reward. Which of you attends to the dog,
Karac?”
“It is I," said one man.
“Do Madame's will, then. Bind the dog with two stout
chains to the wall of his kennel, with three chains, or four
if necessary, so that with all his strength he cannot break
loose. The spirit of evil is in the dog and must be driven
forth. It is Madame's will. Like you, I, too, in a different
capacity am her servant.”
The men turned to go.
“Stay,” said Bocara.“Dr. Oliver will come I cannot
tell you when—but when he comes he is to be received in
state."
Both men started, showing surprise, and even signs of
fear.
“It is Madame's will,” said Bocara again, as if the
phrase were a set one and all-powerful to compel submis-
sion. "See that she is obeyed. In state, remember,
whether Madame is here or not, whether I am here or not.


THE IVORY DISC
189
He can wait for Madame's coming. She will deal with
one who knows not the voice of the high gods.”
For a long time Bocara paced his study, thoughtfully,
silently, like an evil shadow moving to and fro, and then
with sudden energy, as though thoughts seared him and
action were necessary, he opened the window and crossed
the garden to the great Dane's kennel. The dog was
bound by two stout chains and looked depressed as he lay
with his head on outstretched paws, wondering, perchance,
at the cause of this strange punishment. He was erect
in a moment when he saw who visited him, and growling
savagely, strained at his chains. Bocara's white teeth
showed as he slashed the long thonged whip he had brought,
almost he growled as the dog did, and looked as savage.
The first blow fell and Bocara laughed at the dog's yelp,
and struck again and again, harder and harder, careful to
keep beyond the limits of those heavy chains. The great
dog howled for a little, but the howls became savage grunts
of fury as he strained and leaped against his bonds. And
all the while Bocara laughed. This was Estelle's dog,
beloved by her, by the wife who had left him. She would
return to him/her master, he would compel her to return.
With every blow he thought more of Estelle and less of
the dog. Had she stood there instead of Karac it seemed
unlikely that the whip’s cruel work would have stopped.
The man's savagery was horrible, as intense with hatred
as the dog's.
“Every day until she returns," he hissed, as if the
dog could understand. He was a madman in his fury.
"Every day until she returns. Perhaps through you the
gods will punish her and let her feel," and with one last
blow he turned and left the dog still straining against the
chains which bound him.


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THE IVORY DISC
wouldn't go away. I shall not feel quite happy until you
are with me always, until we are alone, until "
“I know, dear heart. You are wondering why the
Little Mother remains, and why I go away, and this dear
little head of yours is troubled about it.”
“Is that wonderful ?” she asked. “Do you really think
I am ill, Bruce?”
“Yes, in a way you are, in a peculiar way, and I am
very, very anxious to make you quite well. I have been
talking to another doctor about you, and I am going to
bring him to see you."
“Tell me, Bruce. I am not frightened.”
Very tenderly he told her enough of his theory to make
her understand. He did not tell her what he believed
her work had been during her periods of detachment, but
he emphasized his belief that Bocara had obtained a greater
power over her than she had imagined, that she had often
seen evil because he had been able to suggest to her that
evil was there to see.
“Do you mean that he has been able to lead me to mis-
take good for evil ?” she asked.
“Sometimes, yes. You were conscious of it yourself,
perhaps for the first time, that day I came to you in the
little temple, brought there by a letter the Professor had
written, or had caused you to write."
“His power has gone, Bruce."
"I am not quite sure of that, dear,” Oliver answered.
“It is weakened, very much less than it was, but I do not
think it is destroyed altogether. I want to do away with
it entirely."
“Can you ?”
“I believe so. I have been watching you closely, so has
the Little Mother-that is why she is here. You see,
dearest, the fact that you are not like other women, that


THE IVORY DISC
193
you have grown up apart, as it were, that there are times
when you drift back into a mist of cloud, all these things
suggest an abnormal condition which means that you are
not in a perfect state of health. Partly it is accounted
for by your upbringing which has developed you along
certain lines, but I am convinced that a physical reason
exists which makes this mental condition possible. I could
worry you with all kinds of medical terms and phrases,”
he went on carelessly, anxious that she should not detect
that he looked upon her condition as serious, “but in plain
language it amounts to this: I believe when you received
that blow at the time of your parents' death you sustained
an injury to your head, and that it was this injury which
enabled Bocara to establish his ascendency over you in the
first place.”
“I do not think that can explain everything, Bruce."
“My dear, it is astonishing what huge trouble can come
from a very small injury.”
“My injury is small, then?”
“Yes."
“And how are you going to alter it?" she asked.
“Quite easily, I hope,” said Oliver, bending over her.
“This dear little head, so lovely, so perfect to look at, has,
I believe, a flaw within, a bone splintered by that savage
blow. This splinter causes a pressure on the brain, and
under certain conditions brings unconsciousness, or semi-
unconsciousness, when to some extent at any rate you are
at the mercy of outside influence and suggestion.”
“And I should not know whether it was good or bad?”
“You would be an unconscious tool either for one or the
other."
She shook her head slowly.
“You do not quite understand, Bruce. I have always
had the sensation of working for good.”


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THE IVORY DISC
“Exactly. Evil has been suggested to you as good.
You were not free to choose. Now, if that splinter is re-
moved I believe you will be always and entirely free."
“An operation ?” she asked.
“Yes, if after seeing you, this other doctor agrees with
me.”
“He would operate?”
“No, I should do it myself. I would not let anyone else
touch you."
“You would just send me to sleep and presently I should
awake again and be Bruce, should I be a different
woman?”
“No, dear.”
“Are you quite sure of that?”
"I believe you will be just your own sweet self, full
of goodness and truth and love. Perhaps in one way you
may not feel so close to the high gods as you have done,
you may never again want a little temple to worship in
with its image and incense and golden chains, but the true
essence of your faith will not be altered. It is my belief
that you have learned truth and had wide vision in spite
of Bocara's suggestions, altogether apart from him, but at
the same time he has been able to use your gift, your
blessing, for some selfish purpose of his own. I believe
he has really held you back, that he has succeeded in dwarf-
ing your vision and narrowing it into ruts of his own
making. You will be as a caged bird set wholly free,
you will be yourself, free from those bonds which have
held you to something far less than your real self.”
"You make a very wonderful woman of me, Bruce."
"So wonderful, dear, that I am sometimes afraid lest
you should see how commonplace and unworthy I am.
And yet that is not quite true,” he went on. “We are
not quite ordinary, either of us, we are adventurers, among


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THE IVORY DISC
“Still you should not travel the journey alone,” he an-
swered. 'Life without you is impossible. But you are
going to live, Estelle, you are going to live. We grow
morbid, and the whole world is happy. Look at it. Sun-
light and cool shade on the stream yonder, long, tranquil
shadows on the lawn, and that bird singing from the wood,
and the hum of the bees at their work, and those two white
butterflies by the border there, lovers surely.”
“Yes, dear Bruce, and listen to the sound of the
weir "
“Like distant laughter, Estelle."
“Yes, yes and no. It is laughter but with some sadness
in it. When butterflies and flowers have gone, and birds
are silent, there will still be that sound of ever-falling water
telling us that life is never ending, always going on and
on. And yet, dear, I am so much a woman that the eter-
nity of life frightens me a little. I want to live and have
love, your love, here and now. I wish you would not go
away any more. Need you?”
"For a little while yet, dear, it is necessary. You must
be my patient first, and then— '
He slipped to his knees beside her couch and she held
him close to her heart.
The room which Oliver had examined so carefully when
he first went to the cottage had been fitted for the opera-
tion and to serve as a ward. Neither Oliver nor Nurse
Houghton had ever before expended such care upon a
patient. Everything necessary, and things which could
only become necessary in the most unexpected circum-
stances, had been provided. All that love and tender ser-
vice and money could do had been done.
The arrival at the cottage of. Dr. Smith, the man who


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THE IVORY DISC
Smith regarded him quizzically for a few moments in
silence.
“May be, yet I cannot conceive that looking into my
heart would compel her favor. The fact remains, how-
ever, that she has set new life running through this half
mummified carcass of mine. You are a fortunate man,
Oliver."
“I know that."
“And you will grow old, my friend, which she never will.
The fluid of eternal youth is in her veins. It is good to
know her, it is good to be loved by her, it is Oliver, the
world is well lost for such love as hers.”
3
On the morning of the chosen day Oliver went early
to Estelle's room. He had not told her he should do so,
he had not intended to go, but on waking he had felt im-
pelled to dress quickly and be with her for a little while
at this early hour of this momentous day. He knocked
at her door, and when told to enter stood spellbound on
the threshold.
Never until this moment had he fully realized her sur-
passing loveliness. She had sat up in bed, beauty in its
daintiest setting. Her pose suggested that she had nearly
slipped from bed to welcome him. The lace on her filmy
nightgown had fallen apart at her throat just revealing
the curve of her breast, her hair fell in a glory about her,
her eyes sparkled with the light of love and of the morn-
ing, and as she held out her arms to him the sleeves of
her gown fell back and left them bare almost to the
shoulder.
“Bruce!'
"My darling, did I wake you gº


THE IVORY DISC
199
“No. I think the first bird calling to its mate across
the garden woke me.”
“I had to come,” he said, closing the door and going
towards her.
"I dreamt you would come to me quite early, just my
dear lover, to be with me alone for a little while."
“You must have called to me, Estelle, and my soul heard
you."
"Just my lover," she whispered. “Presently you must
be only the doctor, and I shall not see you then. I shall
not know that they are your dear hands which touch me.
And you will have to forget that you are my lover.”
“That is impossible.”
“Oh, but you must. Sit here, Bruce, on my bed. You
will have to forget for a little while or love would surely
make you nervous, a little nervous, wouldn't it, just be-
cause it is I who am your patient?”.
“It is love which gives me courage,” he answered.
"When you first said I was ill, that an operation would
be necessary, I thought you meant that someone else would
do it. It would be so as a rule, wouldn't it, Bruce? A
doctor does not generally operate on his on the woman
who is dearest to him in all the world, does he?”.
“I could not let anyone else touch you, dear.”
“And I could not allow it,” she answered. “You are
my only doctor. Even your friend, your ugly, nice friend,
must do only what is absolutely necessary to help you, no
more," and she nestled her head against his shoulder,
looking strangely young, little more than a girl.
“He shall do no more than that,” Oliver promised.
“But now, now you are only my lover. And, dearest,
there was something I wanted to ask you. Many times
I have intended to ask you, but you seem to have been with
me so few and such short hours that I have only had time


200
THE IVORY DISC
to talk of love in them. Do you think it would be possible
to have Karac here when I am better! The dog loves me.”
“Of course, darling. I ought to have thought of him
before."
“I thought I heard him crying for me in the night,"
she said. “I was dreaming.”
“He shall come, dear,” said Oliver, thinking nothing of
the difficulty there might be in getting him from Lantern
House.
“Bruce, dear, I think this is the most beautiful hour I
have ever known,” she whispered. “You are nearer to
me, more mine, than you have ever been before. I feel
that you are mine, body and soul. I feel the glory of pos-
session. Perhaps it because we are here, alone in my room,
where no one, no man has ever come before. But it is you,
you who are a part of me, and it is all so right, so natural.”
“My darling, I wish I could talk as a lover ought to be
able to talk,” Oliver said, “but I cannot. I can talk well
enough about most things, but in love I have no gift of
speech. I only know you are my whole world, more than
all life here or hereafter. I look at you and can find no
words to tell you what is in my heart. I can only hold
your hand and dumbly worship.”
“Not worship, Bruce, I want love, love. Take me in
your arms and try and tell me something of how you love
me. Hold me close, very close to you. Even if you hurt
me I shall not mind, and I shall not cry out. I think
there must always be pain in love, exquisite pain.”
“I love you,” he said, holding her close to him and
kissing her lips and throat. “I love you. Once again I
am in a sanctuary of yours, and I love and worship."
“It is a woman in your arms, Bruce, a real, loving
woman."
“It must be love and worship that I give," he said.


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“I will send for you. There will be preliminary signs."
"I am not sure. I think it will come suddenly, and I
want to see exactly how it does come. I am convinced
there is significance in every movement she makes.”
However, Oliver was persuaded to rest, and on the third
occasion was exhausted enough to sleep for many hours.
Dr. Smith had a long vigil, and it was after this that he
questioned Oliver closely. He had taken very careful note
of his patient and had asked Nurse Houghton a lot of
questions.
“There is some factor not accounted for, Oliver," he
said decidedly. "Can you suggest what it is ?”.
“Do you mean there is a deeper seated injury than I
imagined ?”
“No. I think the operation has entirely justified your
theory," was the answer. “The splinter was there, exactly
where you expected to find it, it has been removed quite
successfully, and I cannot conceive why her brain should
remain cloudy so long. I expected a comatose period of
longer duration than you appeared to do, but her present
state I do not understand. That is why I suggest some
outside factor. She talked a little last night. Nurse
Houghton tells me she does so at times.”
“But nothing coherent,” said Oliver.
“Nothing. To be quite candid, Oliver, I have supposed
your history of her has been on the imaginative side, biased
to some extent by the position in which you have found
yourself. Now I am inclined to accept your story as fun-
damentally true, and to look upon our patient as a woman
mentally extraordinary. There is no reason so far as I
can see why she should remain in this comatose condition
80 long. Obviously she is improving physically. At first
I speculated whether in some way the operation might not
have injured her brain, but I do not think this is the case,


204
THE IVORY DISC
“If, then, this Professor has power to influence her, she
is in a condition to be especially susceptible, and in her
weakened condition it is having an effect upon her for
which you cannot account.”
“That sounds a reasonable theory,” said Dr. Smith.
“It would stand for the outside factor."
“But she doesn't talk about Bocara,” said Oliver.
“Nor about you,” said Nurse Houghton. “She con-
stantly mentions the dog, Karac, but for the rest she talks
of nothing definitely nor with any persistency. To my
mind that is a good sign. Even in her weakened condition
the influence is not catching hold of her, and will grow
less and less as she becomes stronger. Physically she is
decidedly better and is gaining strength every day.”
“I believe you are right,” said Oliver rather excitedly.
“Little Mother, you have been a dear good friend to me,
and now you add to my indebtedness by giving me the
best hope I have had for days past.”
Two days later Oliver was sitting by Estelle's bedside
watching her. It had been impossible to induce him to
stay away from her for more than an hour at a time. She
was certainly better. When she moved her limbs it was
more strongly, and a little color had come into her cheeks.
Presently she looked at him, not a mere glance which was
all she had given him until now. This was a steady look.
“Estelle!” he whispered, bending close to her.
She turned away and looked at her own hand grasping
the coverlet. Then in a little while she looked at him
again.
“Estelle, dear heart."
This time she did not look away. She appeared to
listen.
“My darling," he said, still bending close to her.
She raised her hand and touched his face.


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THE IVORY DISC
here or abroad! I have made preliminary arrangements
for going abroad.”
“Where?”
“To Italy."
“I should like that. I want to get away from the old
life and be just alone with you," and then, after a pause,
she went on: “Have you heard anything of Professor
Bocara?”
“Nothing. Why?” and he looked at her keenly. It
was the first time she had mentioned the Professor's name.
"He just came into my mind, while I was sleeping I
think," and she held out her hand. “Help me, Bruce, I
want to sit up. You know, dear, I am changed in a way,”
she went on when he had made her comfortable with
cushions. “Now that I am better I feel that I am changed.
I seem to have had a long dream. Did I ask you to let
Karac come here or was that part of my dream?”
“You asked me, and I promised to get him, but my
thoughts have been so occupied with you that I have not
been able to think of Karac. I will try and get him for
you when next I go to town.”
“Of course, it doesn't really matter, but I should like
to have the dog. He has been strangely in my dreams, as
if he had thought of me, and I had somehow understood.
I have dreamed of a multitude of vague things and ideas,
curious ideas through which I had to struggle, just as
one who is thirsty pushes through the high reeds on a river
bank to get to the water. I was thirsty for something
yet at first I did not know what I thirsted for. It was to
be with you, Bruce. It is strange, but for a long time I
do not seem to have remembered the Professor at all, and
now that I do he is nothing to me. I cannot even hate him
as I believe I ought to do. He simply does not count at
all. It is just as if he had never been.”


THE IVORY DISC
207
“I am very glad, very thankful,” said Oliver.
“It is what you expected would happen, isn't it?"
“What I hoped and prayed would happen.”
"Then-then you have prayed more than you used to
do."
“Yes, haltingly but very, very really."
She pressed his arm for a moment.
“So you understand why I am a different woman.
There is no Professor in my life. I suppose he must have
had some power over me because I feel as if I had been
tied with cords which have now been cut. And that power
must have been evil because I feel so curiously free. I
feel only good about me, no evil. Yet I do not feel that
my real vision is obscured. I see as clearly as ever, but
there does not appear to be any evil near me to destroy."
"I think I understand, dear.”
She was the same yet not the same. She still saw her.
mission clearly, that mission which is for all, to struggle
against evil, but she was free to judge for herself. It
would be a judgment all her own, untrammelled by any
laws which it had suited men to make for their own pur-
pose, laws often unsound and selfish. She would deal with
fundamentals, not with the surface of things.
"The Professor is my husband, Bruce,” she said, putting
her arm through his, “and I have run away from him. It
is curious, but with my new freedom, my mental freedom
I mean, I can better appreciate the world's attitude and
all you have said about it. Then it did not seem to matter,
now-now I can face it as a woman, just as you have had
to face it as a man. I think it must have been very hard
for you, Bruce."
"Believe me, dearest, I have only thought of you."
“He could divorce me, Bruce, couldn't he?”
“Yes, or it is possible the marriage might be annulled.”


THE IVORY DISC
211
Oliver felt this to be the only way of facing things
squarely, and yet he was not altogether satisfied; indeed,
the attitude which people might take towards Estelle
troubled him exceedingly. He was anxious to know what
course Philippa Dealtry would take with regard to the
letter of invitation which he had posted as he left the
cottage last night. It was in the nature of an experiment
-a test. A visit from Philippa would help Estelle a great
deal, and Oliver was uncertain what Philippa would do.
Her mother would probably try and persuade her not to
go. Lady Dealtry was one of those who are quite ready
to be lenient to sinners in the abstract, but are puritans
to the marrow when their own circle is touched.
Oliver's explanation that he would be busy over the
Italian journey was an excuse. He could not tell Estelle
what really kept him in town today. He had an appoint-
ment with a high official at the Home Office, a man he
knew well, a man who appreciated his worth, and to him
Oliver had decided to tell Estelle's history. He had not
come to this consideration without grave thought, but
so confident was he that Bocara would make mischief the
moment he had to admit failure that Oliver determined to
be first in the field. Bocara would be unlikely to stop at
any lie which would further his purpose, so it was well
someone in authority should know the true story.
Friendship is one thing, duty is another, and authority
declined to make definite promises. After all, Oliver
might be mistaken, it was contended, he had no real evi-
dence against the Professor Bocara, no evidence at all that
any jury would accept for a moment. His story was in-
teresting, it might be substantially true, but the majority
of people would want a lot of proof before they believed it.
"Neither is it evidence against the woman,” Oliver
argued.


THE IVORY DISC
213
"And you are persuaded that Bocara was able to exert
an influence over her?” Palgrave asked.
“Yes. He succeeded in retarding her recovery, but he
was unable to draw her back.”
“It seems hardly possible.”
“The fact is, Palgrave, we do not give enough thought
to the powers which surround us. We talk of life after
death, we talk of the spiritual world, our religion is full
of the magnitude of the unseen in comparison with the
seen, and yet we are seldom prepared to believe anything
we do not understand. Physically we can use force against
each other, why should we not be able to do so mentally?
The real marvel would be if we could not. I have increased
in wisdom since I came in contact with Estelle Bocara.”
“I suppose the flesh really makes us blind,” said Pal-
grave.
"That is exactly what religion is always trying to teach
us, but we are dull scholars," said Oliver. “Have you
told Philippa all about Estelle and myself?”
“Yes. She took it very quietly.”
“And was not very shocked ?”
"My dear Oliver, I really don't know. There are two
sides to Phil. On one side she is as transparent as a pool
of spring water, all the pebbles clearly visible at the bot-
tom. On the other side she-she "
“Don't say muddy for the sake of keeping to the meta-
phor. The word would not describe her at all."
"She is black and obscure from depth," said Palgrave.
“I mean it. She did not strafe me for defending your
action, and even when she tumbled to the fact that I was
a party to the affair in a sense, she showed no indignation.
So I argue for the best."
"Estelle wrote to her last night, asking her to go and
see her," said Oliver.


214
THE IVORY DISC
“At your instigation ?"
“Estelle wondered whether Philippa would feel any
different towards her and I suggested she should write
to her. Do you think Philippa will go!"
“Can't say, Oliver.”
“I am not asking you to persuade her."
“It wouldn't be any good if you did; a decision of that
kind must be left to her. In legal language, Oliver, I
suppose this is a kind of test case ?”
“I admit I am desperately anxious that Estelle could
not be deserted by all her old friends, and she is very fond
of Philippa. You see, Palgrave, she is in some ways more
a woman than she was. There is no difference in her atti-
tude towards me, as between us love is right and natural
whatever the law may have to say about it; but being more
a woman than she was, she has more need of a woman's
sympathy. She has not said anything of the kind but
I know it."
“And it is worrying you. You look it."
"I am not a bit worried in the way you imagine. In one
sense you could not find a happier man than I am. I am
tired. The strain has been heavy."
“Does Madame know that you believe she is responsible
for these deaths?” Palgrave asked after a pause.
“No. I want to be out of the country before the facts
are known. Whatever happens then it will be easier for
Estelle. As I told you in my last letter, I have offered
my services to the Italian Government and they have been
accepted. Practically all my arrangements are now com-
plete, but the date of our departure is not yet fixed.”
“Bocara has not moved in any way, then !”.
“Apparently not. He may not yet be satisfied that his
power over Estelle is gone. I do not know how the effect
of her resistance would affect him, whether he would know


THE IVORY DISC
215
at once that he had failed or not. I have neither seen nor
heard anything of him since the morning he was in this
room. Have you?”
"No."
“Today I have done what I can to forestall any story he
may tell,” said Oliver. “I have a personal friend very
highly placed at the Home Office, I have had an interview
with him and told him the whole story. Of course, I do
not expect to avoid publicity if Bocara elects to be re-
vengeful, but at least the sting will be taken out of his
lies.”
“It is rather a bold move on your part, Oliver. I should
have been afraid of its precipitating matters."
“It will not do that, I can trust my man. I do not think
any real suffering comes from telling the truth."
“I once got whacked for telling it at school,'' Palgrave
returned.
“Real suffering, I said. One does not really suffer if
one's conscience is clear, there is a joy in it because spe-
cial strength is given to endure. Were it not so, mere
men of flesh and blood could not stand what many of them
do for the sake of truth and justice.”
“I do not think I am yet prepared for such a high plane
of thought, Oliver. Did this friend of yours at the Home
Office believe your story?”
“Not altogether, I fancy. Possibly he thinks I am a
little overwrought, a little mad, perchance, but if every-
thing has to come out, if Bocara's past has to be closely
enquired into, he will take a different view of it. My
transparent honesty will be remembered and will bear
fruit. The official mind is like that, and it is upon the
official mind I am depending rather than upon friendship.
It may be that Bocara will remain silent.”
Palgrave shook his head doubtfully.


216
THE IVORY DISC
"I am not very hopeful,” Oliver admitted, “but you
never can tell what a man will do when he thinks his own
skin is in danger. Perhaps I shall be able to find out."
“How !!
“I am going to call upon him this evening."
“Whatever for?"
“To ask him for a dog Estelle is fond of."
"It is folly, madness, Oliver. The man in dangerous.
I saw that the day he came here."
“I shall carry a serviceable revolver."
“I shall go with you,” said Palgrave.
“You will do nothing of the kind. Two of us might
frighten him. He is much more likely to be communicative
if I have him alone.”
"It is dangerous, Oliver. Does Madame know the risk
you are running ?”.
“I didn't mention any difficulty to her. I just promised
to get the dog if I could.”
“I wouldn't run such a risk for a dog."
“You would if you were me and Estelle had asked you,”
said Oliver with a smile. “Don't you worry about me. I
shall be safe with a revolver in my pocket and with the
talisman which I wear about my neck."
“Surely- "
“Yes, I believe in it. Estelle gave it me some time ago,
and I have every reason to believe in it. I am convinced
it has shielded me already. I am physically and spiritually
armed.”
“I do not like the business."
“If it will ease your mind I will call in at your cham-
bers on my way back to show you I am all right. I hope
to have the dog with me.”
“I promised to go in and see Philippa after dinner,
but "


THE IVORY DISC
217
"I will wait for you at your chambers.” Oliver returned.
"I shall be glad to know what Philippa is going to do
about Estelle's letter. I shall be all right, I am sure of
it. I tell you this, Palgrave, had I to leave one of my
weapons of defence at home, I should leave the revolver.
That will show you the faith that is in me.”
“Madness,” said Palgrave.
“No, faith,” Oliver answered with a definiteness which
was almost startling.
3
Philippa read the letters which had come for her by the
evening post. She and her mother were in the drawing
room, having left Sir Charles to enjoy his after-dinner
cigar. One letter she read carefully a second time, then
passed it to Lady Dealtry.
“You were talking about Dr. Oliver and the Bocaras
when Mrs. Falconer was here yesterday, mother; that let-
ter will interest you, and Mrs Falconer, too. She was very
speculative, and as it happens she was not very far from
the truth."
Lady Dealtry read it carelessly, then sat up straight in
her chair and read it again.
“Estelle Oliver!” she exclaimed.
"She makes the situation perfectly plain, doesn't she?”
Philippa said. “You will be able to give definite informa-
tion the next time you see Mrs. Falconer. Estelle does
not suggest that she desires secrecy."
“Of course you will not go and see her, Philippa."
“Of course I shall, mother.”
“But, my dear-
“You are really quite quaint, mother. The situation is
not unlike the one in your book, and your perfectly nice
heroine does just what I contemplate doing. You were


218
THE IVORY DISC
wholly on the side of the sinners when you wrote the book,
and frankly I was rather shocked at your attitude then.
We seem to have changed places.”
“Surely you do not agree with what she is doing or
going to do?" said Lady Dealtry.
"No, I am not going to label myself to that extent, but
I confess to being a halter between two opinions. In real
life as well as in novels I think one's viewpoint must de-
pend to a large extent upon the people with whom you are
dealing. There are exceptional circumstances in this case
and they must be taken into account. You cannot reason-
ably make a cut and dried law and fit every case into it.”
"You do not even seem surprised at the information in
and you do Philippa." at the letter cald into h
“As a matter of fact the letter does not come as a sur-
prise to me. Bruce Oliver took Gerald into his confidence
and Gerald had his permission to tell me. The doctor
appeared to think I should sympathize and get some way
towards comprehension.”
“I do not know he should get such an idea into his
head,” said Lady Dealtry, in a manner which suggested
some annoyance at having been kept in the dark herself,
“and I am very surprised that Gerald should have dis-
cussed the question with you."
“Young people do not shy at such discussions today,
mother. We have all become horribly modern. I am not
saying that our modernity is altogether attractive, but
one has to go with the tide.”
“Of course I cannot prevent your going to see her,
Philippa, but your visit must not be taken to carry my
approval, as any indication that I agree with her action.
I most emphatically do not.”
“Yet Professor Bocara is rather an impossible person,
mother, and I assure you the case is peculiar. I am not


222
THE IVORY DISC
quite sure of that,” said Palgrave. “Of course, he quite
understands that for a time, at any rate, his career would
suffer in this country, so he has decided to go abroad. He
has offered his services to Italy, and is leaving England
shortly."
“That is the very best thing I have heard about him this
evening,” said Lady Dealtry. “It proves that he is
ashamed of himself.”
“And Estelle Bocara goes with him, I suppose?”
“Yes, Sir Charles."
“What is her husband doing or going to do?"
“I wish I knew," said Palgrave, thinking of Oliver's
visit to Lantern House, and then he added hastily: “I
haven't heard anything about him for some time."
“And remember, she is Estelle Oliver,” said Philippa,
holding up the letter.
“Quite shameless apparently,” her mother remarked.
“It sounds peculiar," said Palgrave, “but there is method
in the seeming madness. The change of name is really
significant. Madame Bocara has practically ceased to
exist."
“What nonsense you talk, Gerald.”
“I assure you it is a definite statement of fact, Lady
Dealtry.”
“She says he is quite a different woman in her letter,
mother.”
“I am sorry I cannot be more explicit,” said Palgrave.
“Until you can we are in the position of children trying
to complete a jig-saw puzzle with half the pieces missing,"
said Sir Charles. “It is an occupation which does not ap-
peal to me. Lucy, my dear, let us forget Oliver and the
Bocaras, and go and play billiards. Last night I gave you
thirty and you beat me, tonight you only get twenty-five."
“You are worried, Gerald,” Philippa said as soon as


THE IVORY DISC
223
her father and mother had gone. “It is not about Estelle's
letter, is it?"
"No."
“What is it, then! I thought you were perhaps think-
ing of taking mother's advice and asserting your author-
ity."
“I am not good at asserting myself at any time or I
shouldn't be here at this moment. Oliver has gone to see
Bocara tonight.”.
“What for?"
“To ask him for a dog which belongs to Estelle. That
is the ostensible reason, and Oliver did not say a word to
suggest there was really any other, but somehow I am con-
vinced he must have some other reason. I told him it
wasn't good enough running into danger for the sake of
a dog."
“Danger!"
“Of course, Phil, there is danger with a man like Bo-
cara. I wanted to go with Oliver but he wouldn't let me.
If he had been going only about the dog he wouldn't have
objected to my company probably. He wanted to be alone
because he had some other reason for going. I argued to
myself that I was idiotic, that of course he would be all
right, that this was the twentieth century, and all that-
you know the kind of way one reasons about such things,
but I've been getting more and more jumpy ever since I
came here. It is talking about him, I suppose."
“What other reason could Bruce Oliver have for going?"
Philippa asked.
“It is mere guess work on my part, but I believe he has
an idea that he can bargain with Bocara in some way. He
is convinced that while Estelle was recovering after the
operation, Bocara exerted his influence and succeeded in
reaching her, mentally I mean. Now he is just as con-


224
THE IVORY DISC
vinced that Bocara's power is broken. Well, I believe
he has an idea that he can in some way, by threats, perhaps,
induce Bocara to come to terms, persuade him to agree to
have the marriage annulled, or something of that sort. I
told you Bocara suggested it the day he came to Hobart
Place. I wish I had insisted on going with him tonight.”
"I should think Bruce Oliver knows enough about Pro-
fessor Bocara to take every precaution.”
“Oh, he has a revolver, but seems to place more faith
in an amulet he wears, one Estelle gave him. You know,
Phil, he is a believer in all that kind of thing now, and
while you listen to his arguments, you are inclined to be-
lieve in them too. It is only when you get away from him
that you feel practical and ordinary. If Bocara is only
half as subtle as Oliver thinks he is, precautions may prove
futile."
.“What time did Dr. Oliver go to Lantern House?”
“We left Hobart Place together. He would get there
by about seven o'clock. He said he would look in at my
chambers on his way back to let me see he was all right."
“What time do you expect him?” Philippa asked, look-
ing at her wrist watch.
“I told him I was coming here, and he said he would
wait for me. I could then tell him whether you were going
to see Estelle."
“You can tell him I will. Today is Tuesday, and I am
engaged tomorrow and Thursday, but I will go on Friday.
I will write to Estelle and tell her I am coming."
“Oliver will be grateful.”
“Why not 'phone to your chambers and ask if he has
arrived?" Philippa suggested.
“That is a good idea, he might be there by now," and
Palgrave went to the telephone.
Bruce Oliver had not been there, and the fact made Pal-
grave more anxious than ever.


THE IVORY DISC
225
"I am inclined to go to Lantern House and make sure
he is all right, Phil,” he said. “Of course he must be,
but "
“Perhaps it would be as well to go, Gerald."
“Then you feel uneasy, too?”
“My dear boy, that isn't extraordinary, is it? I have
caught it from you.”
“I'll get off at once. I have never been to the place
but I dare say I shall manage to find it."
Philippa gave him some directions, but they were a little
vague as she had always driven there, and had had no
occasion to notice the way particularly.
“Ring me up when you get back, Gerald.”
“It is certain to be late.”
"I will not go to bed until you ring me up."


228
THE IVORY DISC
2
The servant had stepped back noiselessly to let him pass
into the room, Oliver had heard no sound either beside or
behind him. The attack was absolutely silent, and so
swift, that although the first grip on his arm had put the
doctor on his guard, he was given no opportunity to make
a struggle. A band, thrown accurately, swept around him
pinioning his arms to his side, and the band was caught
and fastened behind him. At the same moment his legs
were caught together, and he would have fallen forward
had not a hand been put to steady him. Almost before
he was aware of it his legs were securely strapped together,
and then his arms were dragged back and fastened behind
him at the elbow. He was in the hands of the two Ori-
ental servants, one of whom must have been waiting just
inside the room and gripped his arm as he had entered.
The suddenness of the attack, its unexpectedness, and the
shaft of light which had dazzled him for a moment, had
all been against him, yet Oliver wondered why he had been
so easily overcome. He was a strong man, he had strug-
gled successfully against odds in times past, yet now he
had fallen an easy victim. He had not been alert phys-
ically, perhaps mentally he had been half asleep when he
entered the house.
The men completed their work in silence. Having tested
their victim's bonds, they came on either side of him and,
dexterously lifting him in a perpendicular position, carried
him forward into the room and seated him in a large
carved chair which was by the table on which the lamp
stood. It might have been the same chair in which Estelle
had sat in the little temple. They proceeded to strap him
securely to this chair, and the leather harness was so com-
plete, so exactly adjusted to its purpose, that Oliver could


THE IVORY DISC
229
not believe he was the first victim who had been pinioned
there. These men must have had practice in this kind of
attack to be such adepts.
"The Professor will come,” said one man as both of
them went and stood by the door.
Oliver had been given no time to struggle, now he had
no intention of wasting his breath in asking questions
which he was sure would not be answered. For a moment
he had speculated whether he could possibly have fallen
under Bocara's influence, so easily had be fallen into this
trap, but he was alert enough now it was too late. The
realization of his physical helplessness seemed to increase
his mental strength and clearness of vision. He reviewed
the situation quickly. As neither of the servants had gone
to inform their master of a visitor's arrival, it was evident
that Bocara must already know he had a visitor, and knew
who that visitor was. He had, perhaps, watched him
enter, secure from discovery in the shadows of the hall.
He was helpless in Bocara's hands, and realizing something
of what this might mean, Oliver cursed himself for refusing
Palgrave's company. Why had he refused it? Because
he was armed and wore a talisman. His revolver was ás
useless to him as a child's rattle, the ivory disc—even now
he found courage in the consciousness that it was secure
about his neck. His thoughts flew to Estelle, to the river-
side cottage. What was she doing at this moment? Was
she thinking of him? Would she, by the strange power
that was in her, know that he was in danger? Would she
be able in some miraculous fashion to succour him! For
a little while he was in the mood to consider nothing im-
possible, and then despair caught at his soul. He was
in Bocara's hands, in the hands of a villain who took life
callously for some fanatical reason which possessed him.
Oliver glanced at the two men standing motionless by the


230
THE IVORY DISC
door, then looked slowly round the room, taking in his
surroundings with a studied completeness suggestive of an
idea that the knowledge might presently be useful to him.
A French window into the garden was open, a breeze moved
the curtains slightly. It was a road to freedom, and al-
though he could not move to take it there was a curious
satisfaction in knowing it was there. If he could not go
by it, there was always a possibility that someone might
come that way to help him, someone out of the night, a
casual passerby perchance. He looked down at the leather
straps which bound him, moved slightly to test their se
curity; there was no slipping free from such bonds as
these, that was a futile hope.
Then the door opened and Professor Bocara came
leisurely into the room.
“Ah, Doctor Oliver, have I not assured you often that
you would always be a welcome visitor at Lantern House?”
Outwardly Bocara was perfectly calm, but there was sup-
pressed excitement in him which caused him to feel for
his words more than usual and to speak with a stronger
accent.
“That is quite evident,” Oliver answered. The very
sight of this man roused his fighting spirit, helpless though
he was. Bocara should not have the satisfaction of seeing
fear, or even apprehension in him. If he were looking
forward to playing the part of cat to his mouse he should
be bitterly disappointed. Oliver was determined to adjust
his tone to Bocara's, to speak as if he were a free agent,
to forget that he was bound to that heavy chair.
“And how right I was when I said we should talk to
gether again,” Bocara said.


234
THE IVORY DISC
“Why should I?” Oliver asked carelessly. “Am I not
your guest ?"
"And Madame's messenger," Bocara returned. “You
are rather more a messenger than a guest, I think, and I
cannot believe you have come only to talk of the dog, Karac.
I fancy you have come to bargain with me."
"I came only about the dog,” Oliver answered.
“Are you only my wife's messenger, Doctor? Ah, an
expression flits across your face like a shadow which makes
me believe otherwise. I will do you justice. I think there
is sufficient shame in you to make you desirous of bar-
gaining with me.”
“I came only about the dog," Oliver repeated.
“Then we will talk first about the dog, but afterwards
about other things, because I am most anxious you should
understand me thoroughly, Doctor. I have tried to ex-
plain myself to you before but you have failed to compre-
hend, perhaps it has been my fault, some Eastern short-
coming in me. You will let me talk fully, I hope, and
without too much interruption, because I am a busy man
with engagements to keep. That small silver clock on the
table yonder is of exquisite workmanship, is it not? It is
also right and keeps excellent time. In an hour we will
bring our interview to an end. We shall not shake hands
at parting. Once you refused, tonight it is I who will
refuse. I shall just put my hand on your neck for a
moment—this hand, and press a little spring in this curious
ring. I cannot tell how long your passing will take, it
depends upon your health.”
“Yes, I know the poison," said Oliver.
“I think not.”
“It is a serpent's poison, Professor, somewhat doctored.
Now an expression flits over your face which shows me you
are astonished at my knowledge. I have experimented with
the poison to some purpose, and you will hardly get out


THE IVORY DISC
235
of England without being questioned concerning your use
of it."
“My friend, you talk very bravely.”
“Not bravely, but with knowledge,” Oliver returned
simulating a carelessness which he did not feel. “I think
I know how long your passing will take. It will be sud-
den and in no way dependent on your health.”.
“What is the word you have in English ?” said Bocara.
“Bluff. You would have me think my garden is full of
your policemen, but I know it is not so. It is as silent
as the grave, and empty. You have come for Karac, you
say, then for the sake of a dog you have come to your
death."
“Estelle wants him, that is why I have come.”
“And Karac wants her, very badly he wants her," was
the answer with a short laugh. “I would have you under-
stand me, Doctor. I do not talk very much, nor swear
oaths as you English do. I plan and wait, striking when
and where I can, when and where it will help me and hurt
most those who are against me. And when two persons
are mentally in accord, when there is subtle sympathy
between them, I can sometimes hurt one by striking the
other. I shall hurt Estelle by killing you, that is certain,
but if the sympathy between you is sufficient, I should hurt
her by striking you-say with a dog whip. No, Doctor,
you need not fear, I am not going to do that. You are
nothing to me, vermin only worthy of destruction, a man
who, entering a man's house as a friend, robs him of his
wife; why even your own people spit on you for that. To
kill you is nothing, nothing at all, your own laws would
sympathize with me and punish me only lightly. It is
Estelle I would hurt for her infidelity. You were not in
my power, although I waited for you, hoping you might
be fool enough to put yourself in my power, but the dog,


236
THE IVORY DISC
Karac, was here. As you know, there is often a very subtle
sympathy between the human and the animal, and I have
used it for my purpose. I do not wonder Estelle heard
Karac calling to her. She must have suffered much on
account of it.”
“What devilish thing have you done to the dog?"
Oliver burst out fiercely. For a moment he forgot that
he was tightly bound, and in a quick attempt to move he
hurt him arms sufficiently to make him wince with the
pain.
"He is chained to his kennel wall and is as powerless
as you are in that chair,” laughed Bocara, "and every day
I thrash him with a heavy whip and think of Estelle. He
is already a wreck of what he was, Estelle would hardly
recognize him for her dog. She will come back presently
and see him. That is certain, Doctor. She will come back
to me, to her master. Think of that, Doctor-to her
master. The beauty of love has gone from me, you have
killed it, but passion remains. Love that is passionate is
a fire, it is true, but it brings a warming heat and happi-
ness; passion without love is a flame which only scorches
and burns. So Estelle must suffer. The fault is yours,
not mine. I change from slave to avenger. I shall no
longer care to exert any subtle influence over her, I shall
have my will of her by force, aye, if necessary I may even
use the whip. Be careful, Doctor. It is useless to strug-
gle. You will only hurt yourself again as you did just
now."
“You are a devilish brute," said Oliver. "Thank God,
Estelle is beyond your power."
"A car will take me very quickly to that house you have
by the river,” said Bocara. "Maybe I shall find my
pleasure in the very place you have prepared to take your
own."


238
THE IVORY DISC
Bocara lighted another cigarette.
“I have told you about my wife," he said. “Her life
and experience as a child made her abnormal when she
came into my care. I confess I knew nothing of your
bone splinter, but I do know it is of no importance. You
have used the knife to no purpose, for we have worked,
she and I, on a higher plane of which you know little or
nothing. Without any help from me the creed her father
had taught her became blended with the religious rites she
saw about her, and it was easy for me to foster this atti-
tude of mind. She was at an impressionable age. I
studied with her and became suggestive, but only at cer-
tain periods was my power of suggestion irresistable. At
other times her own will guided her, but it was never in
real opposition to the line along which I worked. I was
patient and very careful. These periods of detachment
in her were marked by the wise men and priests with whom
we came in touch. They considered her blessed by the gods,
and Estelle believed she had a mission. I had helped her
to believe that, and it was my part to point out what that
mission was. I saved her from the priests by marrying
her. Yes, Doctor, I loved her, but there was work to do
first, and I could wait. It was a great work for my coun.
try-for India.”
“Not for Egypt?" Oliver asked.
“Indirectly, but for India first," and Bocara leaned
forward and swept his hand out to clear away the blue
clouds of cigarette smoke which hung about him. “Why
should a great country like India be under the rule of the
English? Why should the nations of Europe colonize and
govern other peoples, alien to them in race and speech and
ideas? I looked to the day when India and other peoples
should arise and drive out all foreigners from their coasts.
With the spread of education that day came nearer. It


THE IVORY DISC
239
was mind, not muscle, which had enabled the Western man
to take his commanding position, and the man of the East,
infinitely more subtle, deeper, more religious, more honest,
had not yet awoke to the knowledge of his own powers.
Education, by showing him Western methods, was helping
him to awake, and I, knowing the West, saw that the ruling
intelligence of the European nations lay with a few indi-
viduals, a statesman here, a thinker there, here a poet, there
a soldier, and sometimes in a dreamer who had idealistic
visions, or dreamed of world-wide empire. I asked my-
self what I could do, and the answer came quickly. If I
could destroy some of these individual intelligences I
should sap the Western power, and so help the East to
its rightful pinnacle. More, Doctor, I saw that I could
attack these men of mark and genius through Estelle.
You are surprised, eh?”
“No, I came to the conclusion some time ago that you
were entirely responsible for these murders."
“And you have not told the world? It is very aston-
ishing."
“The world would have accused Estelle, as you intended
it should do if you failed. I have waited until I could
place the halter round the right neck.”
“You might be a little dangerous were you free,” said
Bocara, “but the knowledge, the certainty, comes too late."
"Oh, no, the world will know. I have made that certain.
That is why I am so sure that you cannot escape."
“Big words, but they do not affect me,” said Bocara.
“It may be, Doctor, that you have stopped Estelle from
doing further work in the great cause which I have at
heart, but she has done excellently. You have heard of
Dupont, but listen, I will read you the names. They have
all shaken Estelle by the hand, and a touch upon this ring,
a sacrificial ornament, part of her ritual, and behold death.


240
THE IVORY DISC
No one has suspected the teacher of Oriental languages.”
“It is different now," said Oliver.
“When you are found they may begin to wonder about
me, but then-then I shall not be found. Listen to the
names."
He read them from a paper which he took from his
pocket. Many of the names Oliver knew, they were all
prominent persons in one direction or another, and were
of all European countries. Two of them were women. The
names of Scrivener and Ockenden closed the list.
“Sometimes I have failed,” Bocara went on. “The link
between myself and Estelle has snapped at the crucial
moment. It was so when I tried to kill that arch-dreamer
of Empire, William of Germany. I failed.”
“That failure, at least, seems a pity,” said Oliver.
“But failure has not come often. I have fought against
those who are leaders of men, who have the greed of
dominion, who for the supposed benefit of their own race
would enslave other nations. I have had great success,
these names prove it."
“I do not quarrel with your ideals, only with your
method of carrying them out.”
“Ah, you do not quarrel, then you comprehend a little.
I am a dreamer and I have knowledge of the gods, even
as Estelle who has fallen from her high calling. I should
not kill you, I think, did I not hate you in another way.
Your name should have been on this list already, but you
are another of my failures. There is a reason. You have
worn that ivory talisman. Oh, yes, there is virtue in it
or I would not have tried to prevent Estelle from giving
it to you. You see my faith and belief. You have the
talisman no longer. In your case it is personal enmity
which prompts me rather than any distinction you have
won in your profession. That enmity came when I first


246
THE IVORY DISC
“The dog is dead, too,” he repeated. “Either he bit
upon the ring or Bocara managed to use it.”
Palgrave unfastened the leather bonds, and directly he
was free Oliver stumbled across the room to Bocara.
“Dead,” he said after a pause, “worried to death. And,
by God, he deserved it!”
His figure stiffened as he spoke as though a wave of
sudden strength had flowed through his limbs, as if only
at that moment he had freed himself from the lethargic
state and realized that Gerald Palgrave was in the room.
“It was horrible, Palgrave, and all the time I was in
that chair-helpless. He called to me for help-to me!”
“Tell me what has happened.”
“I was trapped-bound. He intended to kill me the
same way—the ring is on his finger. Then the dog came.
But for the dog - "
“Thank God you are safe, Oliver.”
“Yes," and Oliver looked a little vaguely round the
room. “Yes, it is almost strange to be alive. I have
been down to the gates of death, and life seems unreal. It
wasn't Bocara-he didn't frighten me nor put faintness
into my heart. It was the fight, the horrible struggle be-
tween man and dog."
"Perhaps there is some brandy about,” said Palgrave.
“You want pulling together.”
“Not here. I wouldn't touch anything here. Bocara is
dead, Palgrave; Estelle is free. Thank God she is free."
“We must get the police,” said Palgrave. "The sooner
you are out of this the better."
“The police! Yes, of course, they ought to come at once.
Wait a moment. There is a paper-it was on this table.
I don't think he put it in his pocket,” and Oliver searched
the floor with his eyes. “No, here it is."
“What is it?”


THE IVORY DISC
247
"Evidence. Evidence that I am not a cracked-brained
fool," and Oliver laughed. “That friend of mine at the
Home Office the official mind-this paper will be a shock
to the official mind."
“You can tell me about it presently. Let us get the
police,” said Palgrave, anxious to get Oliver out of the
house as soon as possible. He would not get full grip of
himself until he was out of the place.
“One moment. Perhaps I had better leave the other
things, but I must have this,” said Oliver, taking up the
ivory talisman and putting it into his pocket. “I would
not part with it for a fortune. It has saved my life again.
It is strange to think that the man who wished to kill me
actually saved me. Bocara made his servants take it from
my neck, and for them it held some meaning, spoke some
message of greater import to their souls than all Bocara's
commands. They knew I was under the protection of the
high gods."
“You must tell me the whole story presently, Oliver.”
“They have fled as Bocara ordered them, but they must
have unchained Karac before they went, perhaps led him
to the window yonder, and left him to work the will of the
gods and save me.”
“We must get the police," said Palgrave, taking his
arm.
Two special constables were on duty near Lantern House,
and they were the first to investigate the mystery. One
remained with Oliver and Palgrave outside the window of
the study while the other went for assistance. A visit to
the police station followed, and the dawn was glimmering
Eastwards before Oliver and Palgrave were free to return
to town. A belated taxi took them part of the way.
“We'll go to my chambers, Oliver.”
“Anywhere. It doesn't matter."


248
THE IVORY DISC
“I promised to ring Phil up when we got back to tell
we were all right.”
“But What is the time, then?”
“She will be up I expect.”
She was. Palgrave just told her they were safe, and
that everything was all right. He would come round and
see her in the morning. She must wait in for him. Yes,
he would tell Oliver she was going to see Estelle on Friday.
Yes, Oliver was here.
“You had better speak to her," said Palgrave. "I do
not think she is quite convinced you are safe.”
Oliver took up the receiver.
“Hallo! Yesyes, quite all right. Sound tired, do I!
So do you. Very sporting of you to sit up. Yes, it has
been an exciting evening. Gerald will tell you about it
in the morning. Yes, so I hear-on Friday. Awfully
glad you are going, it will do Estelle no end of good. Good-
night.”
Palgrave meanwhile had mixed him a stiff brandy and
soda.
“Get outside that, Oliver."
“An excellent prescription,” Oliver answered, setting
down an empty glass.
Then in detail Bruce Oliver gave his friend an account
of everything that had happened that evening at Lantern
House.
"And Estelle is free,” he went on rather excitedly.
“Think what that means. I wonder whether she knows
it to-night,” and he took out the talisman and fastened it
round his neck. “I think when this was filched from me
she must have felt it, has perhaps been tossing wakeful all
these hours; now it is in its place again she may sleep.
To-morrow, no to-day, in a few hours, I must see the man
at the Home Office, perhaps the authorities at Scotland
Yard, and then-Estelle.”


THE IVORY DISC
253
spiritual with law and dogma, and of losing essential truth
in trying to fit new enlightenment into doctrines which
held truth only for the times for which they were intended.
It is putting the new wine into old bottles.
You see, my dear Gerald, Estelle's influence is strong
upon me, and I thank God for it, the God who made us all
mentally and physically. I grow more humble. How can
I, a Christian, judge my brother Mohammedan, the
Bhuddist, anyone, when God made him and allows him to
think differently, and leaves him to approach him by a
road of which I have no knowledge. This universality is
Estelle's religion, and daily is more and more becoming
mine. Not in this world, in this dispensation, shall all men
travel by the way of the cross, but I believe all roads lead
into that great Highway which runs through this life,
and out beyond it, far, far out, beyond time, beyond this
world's existence until at last it reaches the Almighty.
And sooner or later, I believe, all shall travel it, and God
Himself shall know and rejoice that not for one single
soul of His making did He die in vain.
How I preach, but you must not be angry with me. It
is Estelle's influence, and I seem to have found my own
soul and must speak of the faith that is in me to a
friend.
Do you remember a young flying man who was at the
Dealtrys' the night Ockenden died? I met him in Flor-
ence recently—on leave from Salonika. I remembered his
face and spoke to him—Withers is his name. He came out
here and stayed with us for a day or two. He seems to
fancy that a man who has burst through the clouds of earth
into the eternal blue, and flies alone where there is no
sound save the throbbing engine and the singing wires of
the aeroplane, knows more about God than anyone who
walks the earth. Perhaps he is right. I can almost fancy


254
THE IVORY DISC
that airmen will come to have a special religion of their
own.
Twice Estelle has called to me from the garden, and I
must close, and apologize for writing at such length.
With our love to you both,
Ever yours affectionately and gratefully,
BRUCE OLIVER.
THE END


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OLIVER.


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