THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 TED BARRETT

 
 LANDMARKS
 
 OTHER WORKS BY E. V. LUCAS 
 
 Mr. Ingleside 
 
 Listener's Lure 
 
 Over Bemerton's 
 
 London Lavender 
 
 Loiterer's Harvest 
 
 One Day and Another 
 
 Fireside and Sunshine 
 
 Character and Comedy 
 
 Old Lamps for New 
 
 The Hambledon Men 
 
 The Open Road 
 
 The Friendly Town 
 
 Her Infinite Variety 
 
 Good Company 
 
 The Gentlest Art 
 
 The Second Post 
 
 A Little of Everything 
 
 Harvest Home 
 
 The Life of Charles Lamb 
 
 A Swan and Her Friends 
 
 A Wanderer in Venice 
 
 A Wanderer in Florence 
 
 A Wanderer in London 
 
 A Wanderer in Holland 
 
 A Wanderer in Paris 
 
 The British School 
 
 Highways and Byways in Sussex 
 
 Anne's Terrible Good Nature 
 
 The Slowcoach 
 
 and 
 The Pocket Edition of the Works of Charles 
 
 Lamb : I. Miscellaneous Prose ; n. Elia ; 
 
 in. Children's Books ; iv. Poems and 
 
 Plays ; v. and vi. Letters.
 
 LANDMARKS 
 
 BY 
 
 E. V. LUCAS 
 
 METHUEN & GO. LTD. 
 
 36 ESSEX STREET W.G. 
 
 LONDON
 
 First Published in
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. Introducing . . . . . i 
 
 II. A Present for a Good Boy . . . .6 
 
 III. First Glimpse of Jesuitry . . . 13 
 
 IV. Entertainers, and a Shock . . . 19 
 V. The Nice Gardener and a Problem . . 30 
 
 VI. The Terrifying Law . . . -38 
 
 VII. A Betrayal . . . . . -43 
 
 VIII. The Wager 47 
 
 IX. Astronomy ...... 57 
 
 X. The Black Cat 60 
 
 XI. Uncle Ben's Phrase. . . . -65 
 
 XII. Mr. Dimsdale . . . . .70 
 
 XIII. Lies: Base and Splendid . . . -74 
 
 XIV. Showing how one who should much longer have 
 
 retained his divinity lost it . -83 
 
 XV. The Strange Case of Mr. Vosper . . .102 
 
 XVI. The Latch Key 108 
 
 XVII. Lavis 114 
 
 XVIII. Showing how one thing leads to another . .124 
 
 XIX. The Stoat ..... .132 
 
 XX. The Beautiful Pink Slip . . . -139 
 
 XXI. Another proof that it is No Woman's Business to 
 
 take an interest in herself . . . 147 
 
 ' b 
 
 626207
 
 
 vi CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XXII. Rudd meets his Fate . . . . i$9 
 
 XXIII. Rudd visits Olympus . . . .166 
 
 XXIV. Surname only . . . . - 175 
 XXV. In which the Unexpected Happens more than 
 
 once . . . 180 
 
 XXVI. Pity's Bill comes in . .... 188 
 XXVII. In which Rudd is suddenly called upon to 
 
 deny a Prophet and instruct his Fellow-men 199 
 XXVIII. The Wedding . . . . .206 
 
 XXIX. Further proof that a Woman's Interest in a 
 Man must be managed with skill if she is to 
 hold him . . . . . 216 
 
 XXX. Plovers' Eggs 228 
 
 XXXI. In which Rudd learns how costly it can be to 
 
 have all One's Expenses paid by the Wealthy 238 
 XXXII. At .20,000 a year . . . . 243 
 
 XXXIII. Additional evidence that it's Our Money they 
 
 want ...... 249 
 
 XXXIV. The Angel again . . . .260 
 XXXV. The Dread Small Hours .'" . . 264 
 
 XXXVI. Rudd is Launched . . . . 270 
 
 XXXVII. Avon . ; . . . . .275 
 
 XXXVIII. Miss Brooke . . . . . 281 
 
 XXXIX. Love . ... ; . . 289 
 
 XL. The Price of Happiness . . . 297 
 
 XLI. The Book ! . ' . . .301 
 
 XLI I. The Knees of the Gods . . .307
 
 
 
 LANDMARKS
 
 LANDMARKS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 INTRODUCING 
 
 IF this story were told on the cinematograph as 
 "The Life of Rudd Sergison," or "The Most 
 Significant Passages in the Life of Rudd Sergison " 
 (only, of course, the public would need a far more 
 sensationally alluring title than these), it would begin, 
 I suppose, earlier, and in the manner of a Chinese 
 play show us the courtship of his honourable father 
 and mother : tender passages in a sitting-room raked 
 by a high wind, or scenes of that kind. My narrative 
 ought perhaps to do the same; but instead I have 
 chosen a later starting-point, and thereafter have 
 endeavoured passing Rudd's career in review to 
 put myself in the place of the gifted gentlemen who 
 apply the severe selective machinery of the cinema, 
 and with such decision discard all but the relevant 
 and constructive. 
 
 The task has not been easy ; so far from it that I 
 have often found myself wishing that instead of 
 " Landmarks " I had called the book " Incidents " and
 
 2 LANDMARKS 
 
 thus spread a wider net. For it is curious how many 
 things happen to us, often at the time apparently 
 momentous, and, generally, interesting enough, which 
 do not count; curious how few real landmarks even 
 a long life need contain ; and even more curious how 
 lasting can be the effect of what seem to be trivial 
 occurrences and experiences : words even, lightly 
 spoken by others, which fall on soil to that very 
 instant prepared for them ; casual wayside meetings ; 
 actions of total strangers; and so forth. Not until 
 later can we distinguish between the influential and 
 the unimportant. It is as though a few drops of 
 water sank into the duck's back. 
 
 For example, with many a boy the acquisition of 
 a first gun would be a landmark. But it was not so 
 with Rudd. When his Uncle Hector gave him a 
 rook-and-rabbit rifle on his sixteenth birthday he 
 was excited enough ; but the event was no landmark. 
 The landmark came a few days later when, in the 
 evening, as dusk was falling, he shot his first rabbit, 
 and on running up in triumph found that he had 
 merely broken its leg. After vainly trying to kill it 
 by breaking its neck, he had to place the muzzle 
 within a few inches of its suffering head, blow its 
 brains out, and at the same moment relinquish for 
 ever the pursuit of sport. That was the landmark. 
 
 Again, the marriage ceremony might be considered 
 a landmark in any life ; but it is a mere blur in many 
 a mind compared with, on the hither side, the fact of 
 acceptance, and, on the farther side, the moment
 
 INTRODUCING 3 
 
 (which sometimes arrives) when the discovery is 
 made that the glamour has gone, that the lute has a 
 rift in it, or, more serious, that the lady is Leah and 
 not Rachel. 
 
 The birth of the first child, a daughter, say, might 
 similarly be considered a landmark ; yet it is possible 
 for a daughter to grow into a woman and never 
 disturb or arrest her father's even tenor until the 
 moment when she declares her intention of marrying 
 a youth who is hateful to him. On the other hand, 
 the loan of a halfpenny newspaper in a railway 
 compartment may change a career. 
 
 The cinema will always have over mere writers 
 the advantage of presenting the visible moving 
 scene; but, with all this heavy artillery, not yet, I 
 notice, has it been able to dispense with the assist- 
 ance of our poor words. We still have to help it 
 out. This being so, it is hard that we cannot share 
 in the benefits of the alliance ; for what novels could 
 be set before our readers if only we could now and 
 then resort to the ingenious and vivid resources of 
 the film ! 
 
 But this is a digression in a book which was to 
 have 1 none. Let me forthwith introduce my hero 
 and his mother, characteristically if not dramatically 
 employed. 
 
 It was a winter's afternoon one of many. The 
 lamplighter had finished his round, and it was the 
 best time of all : after tea. Scene : a Victorian 
 sitting-room, with a whatnot in the corner. Dramatis
 
 4 LANDMARKS 
 
 personae : Mrs. Sergison (aged 36), Rudd Sergison, 
 her only child (aged 7 that day). 
 
 The comfortable scent of crumpets, which Rudd 
 had been toasting and his mother buttering, still 
 lingered. 
 
 "Now," said Rudd, seating himself on a hassock 
 at his mother's knee as she opened a book. His 
 small grave face shone with a double glow : with the 
 firelight and the anticipation of pleasure. A new 
 book of stories was to be begun ! A wonderful book. 
 He had his mother's word for it. 
 
 "Are you quite settled?" she asked. 
 
 " Yes," said Rudd. 
 
 " Which shall it be ? " she asked. " A funny one 
 or a pretty one ? " 
 
 " Are there both kinds ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " Oh yes," she said. 
 
 " It's really a good book ? " he asked. 
 
 " Really," she said. " It was my favourite when I 
 was a little girl, and I have been keeping it till you 
 were seven, which was when it was given to me. 
 Now which shall it be, a funny one or a pretty one ? " 
 
 " Won't you choose for me ? " said Rudd, " or," he 
 added on a sudden and splendid inspiration, " couldn't 
 we have one of each ? " 
 
 " Two ? " she asked, affecting to be alarmed by his 
 greed. 
 
 "Yes, two; and then" (taking courage from her 
 tone) " two more ! " 
 
 His mother laughed in a shocked voice.
 
 INTRODUCING 5 
 
 "I'll name three funny ones first," she said, "and 
 then three pretty ones. These are funny ones : ' Big 
 Claus and Little Claus,' ' The Brave Tin Soldier,' 
 ' The Tinder Box.' You're not too near the fire, are 
 you ? " 
 
 " No," said Rudd. 
 
 His mother continued: "These are pretty ones: 
 'The Bronze Boar,' 'The Fir Tree,' 'The Nightin- 
 gale.' Now then ? " 
 
 " Which would you say ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " No, I want you to choose," said Mrs. Sergison. 
 " They're all perfect." 
 
 "Very well, then," said Rudd, thinking deeply. 
 " First, we'll have ' The Brave Tinder Box,' and 
 then " 
 
 " That's two," said Mrs. Sergison. " You've mixed 
 them up. It's 'The Brave Tin Soldier,' one, and 
 ' The Tinder Box,' two." 
 
 " ' The Tinder Box,' " said Rudd, " and then then 
 we'll have ' The Bronze Boar.' " 
 
 " Very well," said his mother. " You're quite sure 
 you're not too near the fire ? " 
 
 " Quite," said Rudd. 
 
 His mother began to read Hans Andersen's story 
 of " The Tinder Box."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 A PRESENT FOR A GOOD BOY 
 
 ONE of the less invulnerable dispensations of 
 Providence is the early age at which we lose 
 our grandfathers. It is as though the All-Knowing 
 said : " I am so perfectly sure that you would never 
 profit by the ripe experience which your grandfather 
 has to offer you that you shall not even have the 
 opportunity of hearing it." The loss is ours, perhaps, 
 more than theirs. But how little fun we should have, 
 some of us, if this arrangement as to experience being 
 non-transferable had never been made. 
 
 Most grandfathers die when their grandchildren 
 are very young ; many before these are born. Rudd 
 was not old enough to appreciate his grandfather 
 before it was too late ; but he loved Sunday morning 
 because after church his father, mother and himself 
 always visited the old people's house and walked in 
 the garden, where, on the edges of the smoothest and 
 greenest lawn, and in circular and oval beds cut in it, 
 were the reddest geraniums, the yellowest calceo- 
 larias and the bluest lobelias. For those were the 
 days when all the fashionable flowers that we now 
 
 6
 
 A PRESENT FOR A GOOD BOY 7 
 
 worship were to be found only in cottage gardens. 
 Gentlemen's places were distinguished by their 
 geraniums, and carpet bedding was the only correct 
 thing. Herbaceous borders were an eccentricity, a 
 bid for an odd reputation. 
 
 Having walked about the lawn as long as he 
 wished, Rudd used to slip off to the greenhouse to 
 hunt for the tortoise and pinch the fuchsia buds to 
 make them go pop, for in those days fuchsias were 
 still thought beautiful by the old and found enter- 
 taining by the young. He would then pick a 
 lemon verbena leaf and carry it to his mother. On 
 a week-day Rudd would hasten to possess himself of 
 a croquet mallet, but on Sundays no croquet was 
 allowed, nor were the hoops and coloured sticks left 
 up, but all put away in their box, so that not even the 
 venial offence of ringing the bell in the central cage 
 was left. None the less the Sunday visit, with all the 
 innocuous mildness of its excitements, was a treasured 
 event. 
 
 Rudd's grandfather, his mother's father, was smooth 
 shaven, with very white soft hair. He dressed in 
 black with a wide-brimmed tall hat. 
 
 Whenever a grandchild was born he gave it a sove- 
 reign and was much entertained by the way in which 
 the baby treated it. Rudd at once allowed his coin 
 to fall on the floor. " Tut, tut ! a spendthrift ! " said 
 his grandfather, chuckling. In the pocket of the first 
 knickerbockers there was always a shilling from the 
 same hand. For years Rudd believed that it was a
 
 8 LANDMARKS 
 
 present from the tailor ; and indeed, not till he was 
 a grown man did he cease to feel for a coin in any new 
 suit and arrive sadly and finally at the conclusion 
 that tailors are not like that. 
 
 His grandfather was hard on seventy when Rudd 
 was born ; he died when Rudd was eight, years and 
 years too soon, for they were great friends and would 
 have been greater. 
 
 Although Rudd was so young he never lost the 
 visual remembrance of his grandfather. It was one 
 of the faces that he could always conjure up, even 
 when the features of those much nearer to him 
 refused to obey the call. The caprice of memory 
 is never so noticeable as under these evocations. 
 Your dearest friend, whom you left only this after- 
 noon, can refuse to emerge from the void, while every 
 lineament and gesture of the waiter who served you 
 that night at Chatillon's ten years ago may be sum- 
 moned and studied at will. Rudd, at any moment, 
 could see his grandfather's gentle, refined face, his 
 slow, thoughtful walk. 
 
 Rudd liked to walk with him, and was often 
 allowed to accompany him back to " Sunnyside," 
 which was not far, returning alone. On one 
 occasion he noticed a shabby man creep up behind 
 his grandfather, whose hands were behind him, 
 take something from one of those hands, and 
 disappear. 
 
 At the gate was Rudd's grandmother, who had seen 
 it too.
 
 A PRESENT FOR A GOOD BOY 9 
 
 " You have been giving that worthless beggar 
 money again ! " she said reprovingly. 
 
 " No, my dear," replied Rudd's grandfather, smil- 
 ingly defending himself, " I didn't give it ; he took 
 it." 
 
 Hovering between his wife's prohibition as to 
 giving alms to this particular rogue, and his own 
 softness of heart, the kindly old gentleman had laid 
 a sixpence on his open palm and awaited events. 
 
 At "Sunnyside," Rudd's grandfather's house, certain 
 toys were kept for grandchildren on their visits toys 
 which had already satisfied more than one genera- 
 tion ; and these alone made a party there a tremend- 
 ous event. 
 
 But there were other things, too, which Rudd 
 always remembered, chief of which was the texture 
 of the cloth which was laid on the dining-room table 
 between meals, and was as thick almost as a carpet, 
 but softer, and in its floral pattern rather like one ; 
 and the tick of the wonderful ormolu and marble 
 clock on the mantelpiece under a glass shade. This 
 tick he learned as he played with the ancestral toys 
 on the splendid table-cloth in the afternoon, but so 
 silently as not on any account to disturb his grand- 
 father, who took a nap that time, under a bandana 
 handkerchief. 
 
 Parties at " Sunnyside " were naturally anticipated 
 by the grandchildren with the utmost interest. But 
 the finest party of all, and alas the last, was on the 
 old gentleman's seventy-fifth birthday, for then all
 
 io LANDMARKS 
 
 the families met, not to give but to receive presents. 
 They could give them too if they liked, but Rudd's 
 grandfather's wish was that they should primarily 
 receive. 
 
 These presents were piled round a Christmas tree, 
 and were real presents : something to keep with care 
 and use with ceremony. 
 
 One by one the mysterious parcels were distributed 
 among the cousins. 
 
 Henry came first, with a tool-box as big as a port- 
 manteau. Every conceivable tool was there, from an 
 axe downwards ; Henry would be able to sever each 
 finger and each toe with a different weapon, and still 
 have enough left for scores of minor injuries. The 
 other children looked on in envy and not a little 
 perplexity as to their own future, for what present 
 could be as good as that? 
 
 Then came Anne, next in age, the eldest of the 
 second family of grandchildren, and her gift was a 
 workbox, complete in every particular, lined with 
 flounced satin, with a lock and key, and a thimble of 
 solid gold, silks of myriad hues, and an armoury of 
 shining scissors, bodkins and needles. 
 
 Rudd's envy had a rest, although not a complete 
 one, for he knew of a thousand things to do with a 
 box divided into compartments like that, apart alto- 
 gether from such rubbish as needlework. Henry and 
 Anne equally were in raptures. 
 
 Next came Ernest to join them in ecstasy over a 
 tool-chest like Henry's.
 
 A PRESENT FOR A GOOD BOY n 
 
 Next came Meta, to whose enraptured eyes was 
 revealed a paint-box of polished mahogany, with two 
 layers of lustrous cakes of paint (the old hard kind), 
 with their names under each : cobalt, vermilion, 
 madder brown, crimson lake (so pleasant to the 
 taste), burnt sienna, and so forth, a dozen small 
 brushes, a large flat one, a water glass, and under- 
 neath, in a drawer all to itself, whose opening was 
 half a secret, a white porcelain palette. Such a paint- 
 box surely never had before left the shop-windows, 
 never had become the possession of a private indi- 
 vidual ! 
 
 Rudd had a paint-box of his own with which he 
 coloured outline drawings on week-days, and on Sun- 
 days illuminated texts (with the exciting addition of 
 a bottle of gold paint), but this magnificent thing of 
 Meta's pauperized it. And Meta was no hand at art 
 either ! 
 
 And now it was Rudd's turn. 
 
 A bulky parcel of white tissue paper was placed 
 in his hands, and, surrounded by the cousins and 
 trembling with excitement, he opened it. And what 
 was it ? Another paint-box ? No. A compendium 
 of games ? No. Anything sensible or proper on 
 such an occasion as this ? No. 
 
 It was a book. 
 
 A book ! 
 
 And not even a book of stories, but poetry ! 
 
 True, it was a beautiful book, most luxuriously 
 bound in blue leather, and it had pictures and gilt
 
 12 LANDMARKS 
 
 edges : but after the tool-chest and the paint- 
 box . . . ! 
 
 Rudd burst into tears. He cried and cried and 
 cried ; nothing could console him ; and he was led 
 away. 
 
 But years after, when Meta's paint-box had lost 
 all its colours, and of Henry's tools not a vestige 
 remained save the scars on Henry's person, Rudd 
 could still turn to his book and read again his early 
 favourites : " Kubla Khan," " The Ancient Mariner," 
 " The Deserted Village," " The Highland Reaper " 
 and " The Old Familiar Faces." His grandfather 
 was perhaps not so wrong, after all.- 
 
 But at the time the old gentleman was as unhappy 
 almost as the child.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 FIRST GLIMPSE OF JESUITRY 
 
 HAVING just left his mother in her sitting- 
 room, Rudd was standing in the hall wondering 
 whether he would go for a walk or play in the garden. 
 He was rather in favour of a walk, but there was 
 always the risk of meeting Oran. 
 
 Oran was a lame boy who terrorized the neighbour- 
 hood. He had one very high boot with ari enormous 
 sole and heel, and a crutch, but he could get over the 
 ground faster than most boys even of his own age, 
 while no little boy could escape him. It was terrible 
 to hear his crutch clattering behind you as you ran. 
 
 Oran was an incipient magnate: he took small 
 boys' property from them their tops, marbles, pencils 
 and never returned it ; he teased them about their 
 clothes ; he twisted their arms, and used bad words. 
 Rudd was not only in his person miserably afraid of 
 Oran's powers, but his little soul was disturbed too : 
 he had the feeling that it was doubly wrong for a lame 
 boy to be wicked. It was long indeed before he lost 
 this idea, and longer still before he ceased to believe 
 
 that the blind were pre-eminently set apart for virtue. 
 
 13
 
 14 LANDMARKS 
 
 Just as Rudd had decided to run the risk of an 
 encounter with Oran, and was emptying his pockets 
 by way of precaution, the bell rang. This was always 
 an event, and Rudd withdrew into that convenient 
 hiding-place, the overcoat recess, to hear who it was. 
 
 In the course of a minute or so Jane tripped along 
 the passage and opened the door. 
 
 "Is Mrs. Sergison at home?" Rudd heard a voice 
 inquire. 
 
 " I'm sorry but she's not," Jane replied. 
 
 Nothing kept Rudd from bursting from his lair and 
 setting right this monstrous error but the circum- 
 stance that he had been forbidden to eavesdrop, as 
 he was now doing. But of all the whoppers ! 
 Why, Jane had but just taken up Mrs. Sergison's tea. 
 
 " Are you quite sure ? " the voice asked. 
 
 " Quite, ma'am," said Jane, and was not struck 
 dead. Rudd tremblingly listened for the fall of the 
 corpse ; but it never came. 
 
 The voice murmured acquiescence, and Jane shut 
 the door. 
 
 Rudd all unstrung and dismayed tackled her. 
 
 " Jane," he said in reproachful tones, " Jane ! how 
 could you ? " 
 
 " Lor', how you made me jump ! " said Jane. 
 " How could I what ? " 
 
 " How could you tell such a story ? Mother's 
 upstairs. You know she is." 
 
 " Of course I know she is," said Jane, " but she's not 
 at home to anyone. She told me herself."
 
 FIRST GLIMPSE OF JESUITRY 15 
 
 " Mother told you ? " Rudd said incredulously. 
 
 " Yes, Master Inquisitive, she did," said Jane. 
 
 " But she is at home," said Rudd. 
 
 " Don't you worry about things you can't under- 
 stand," said Jane, and returned to her work. 
 
 But Rudd had to have this out. The whole fabric 
 of morality was tottering. 
 
 Mrs. Sergison had little courage in facing the 
 anomalies of life. The sum of her teaching was 
 that Rudd should be good and kind and unselfish. 
 With his questions as to the darker side of the world 
 she fenced, or put him off with the remark that there 
 were certain things we were not intended to under- 
 stand. Her belief that a Providence had placed us 
 here and watched every movement, was unshakable. 
 Nothing in the daily papers could rub even a grain 
 of bloom from that conviction. Rudd, therefore, had 
 grown into the habit of laying certain difficulties before 
 Sarah rather than his mother. Sarah at any rate 
 made some attempt at solution. 
 
 Even when an upper floor too heavily weighted one 
 Sunday evening by a congregation singing " The Old 
 Hundredth," had given way, and scores of the singers 
 were killed or injured, Mrs. Sergison had no hesitancies. 
 To Rudd, who had heard Mr. Sergison reading about it 
 at breakfast, it had been bewildering and outrageous. 
 
 " Why did God let it happen ? " he asked and 
 asked. 
 
 " It is not for us to understand His ways," said 
 Mrs. Sergison. " Now have some marmalade."
 
 1 6 LANDMARKS 
 
 But Rudd was not momentarily interested in 
 marmalade: he was remembering the text about 
 the sparrows, one of his mother's favourites. Not 
 one could fall to the ground without His knowledge, 
 and here were all these religious people singing His 
 praises, mangled . . . 
 
 " But," he began with wide eyes . . . 
 
 " My little boy mustn't question God's ways," said 
 Mrs. Sergison. " Now say Grace and run upstairs." 
 
 Rudd looked to his father, but he was deep in the 
 Stock Exchange quotations. Very thoughtfully he 
 left the room. 
 
 Upstairs he told Sarah about it. 
 
 "How is it? "he asked. 
 
 Sarah was orthodox too, but her mind was more 
 practical and more investigative. She liked reasons. 
 
 " The floor was weak," she said. " They ought 
 never to have been up there at all. It wasn't 
 safe." 
 
 " But they were allowed to go up, and they were 
 singing ' O Thou from whom all blessings flow,' " 
 said Rudd. 
 
 " Well," said Sarah, " I suppose one of those 
 blessings is common sense, and they had forgotten 
 to use it. The floor was rotten. Even Christians 
 have got to be sensible. It was a lesson to the rest 
 of them." 
 
 But to-day's problem was far more serious than 
 that. To-day's problem involved the truthfulness 
 of the fountain-head of truth, his mother. It was
 
 FIRST GLIMPSE OF JESUITRY 17 
 
 not academic: it was terribly intimate and vital. 
 And Sarah was out. 
 
 " Oh, mother," he cried, bursting into Mrs. Sergison's 
 room, " such a dreadful thing's happened." 
 
 " What is it ? " Mrs. Sergison asked in alarm. 
 
 " Why," said Rudd, " somebody called to see you, 
 and Jane said you were not at home, and you are ! " 
 
 " Who was it ? " Mrs. Sergison inquired. 
 
 " I don't know," said Rudd. " But Jane said you 
 were not at home, and she knew that you were, and 
 it's a story, a dreadful story. And Jane says you told 
 her to tell it." 
 
 Mrs. Sergison drew the boy to her. " ' Not at 
 home' means I don't want to see any callers," she 
 said. 
 
 " But it was a story," said Rudd. 
 
 " No, not a story. It's a regular form of words 
 meaning that." 
 
 " But if you are at home," said Rudd, " it must be 
 a story." 
 
 " Listen," said Mrs. Sergison. " You don't think I'm 
 a story-teller, do you ? " 
 
 " No," said Rudd. 
 
 "Nor Jane?" 
 
 " N-n-no," said Rudd, with less confidence. 
 
 " And we're not. ' At home ' means ready to see 
 callers. ' Not at home ' means not ready to see 
 them. That's all. Now you understand?" 
 
 Rudd looked the picture of perplexity. 
 
 Mrs. Sergison kissed him. " You are quite right to
 
 1 8 LANDMARKS 
 
 be troubled about it," she said. "Stories are very 
 wrong. But this only sounded like one. You are 
 sure you see?" 
 
 " I'm trying to," said Rudd. 
 
 " Very well," said his mother. " Now go and ask 
 Jane who it was. I hope it was no one I should 
 have liked to have seen." 
 
 Rudd went, in a stupor. 
 
 When he was going to bed he related the incident 
 to Sarah. 
 
 " It wasn't telling the truth, was it ? " he said. 
 
 Sarah, who disliked Society and its pretences, 
 agreed that it was not. 
 
 " Because mother was in" he continued. " She 
 was at home. She was at home all the time." 
 
 " You must forget it," said Sarah. " It's a regular 
 thing they say. Your mother didn't invent it, and 
 I'm sure she doesn't like using it." 
 
 " What I think is," said Rudd, " that Jane ought to 
 have said, ' Mrs. Sergison is at home, but she doesn't 
 want to see you.' That would have been the truth."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 ENTERTAINERS, AND A SHOCK 
 
 RUDD'S mother, loving and solicitous as she 
 was, was, after all, like many mothers, only his 
 walking-stick. His crutch was Sarah. Mrs. Sergi- 
 son's first duties were to her husband ; Sarah's only 
 duties were to Rudd. 
 
 Sarah Juniper had had charge of him from his 
 earliest moments. She dressed him and undressed 
 him, and between those two great events she was his 
 constant companion. 
 
 She was a plain but pleasant looking woman of 
 between thirty-five and forty, in a mauve print 
 dress. Her hands were rough and powerful, as 
 Rudd knew when she had occasion to hold him 
 firmly, which happened now and then when he 
 had been naughty and must be forcibly got back 
 to the house, or when the cod-liver-oil season 
 set in. 
 
 Certain crusted scraps of nursery wisdom were in 
 Sarah's repertory, such as " Little boys should be 
 seen and not heard " ; and " Fingers were made before 
 
 forks " ; and " Little Pitchers have long ears " ; and 
 
 19
 
 20 LANDMARKS 
 
 " It is a sin to steal a pin " ; and " See a pin and pick 
 it up " and so forth. 
 
 Experience had provided her with lessons too, and 
 she was never tired of reminding Rudd that nothing 
 is ever so bad as we expect it will be. That nothing 
 also is ever so good as we expect, she probably knew 
 too, but being an excellent nurse she did not urge 
 that upon him. Such disenchanting truths can be 
 reserved for one's own acquisition in the school of 
 the world ; it is the lenitives with which the instructors 
 of childhood are concerned. 
 
 But Sarah was not wholly didactic : she had her 
 moments of levity too ; nurses' levity. She and Rudd 
 had tremendous giggling struggles over the ancient 
 and perilous problem contained in the lines : 
 
 " Adam and Eve and Pinch-me 
 
 Went down to the river to bathe : 
 Adam and Eve were drowned, 
 
 But who do you think was saved?" 
 
 On every fine day Rudd and Sarah walked by the 
 sea, which was reached by descending a steep hill. 
 
 On very special occasions they went on the pier. 
 Rudd was now and then permitted to fish from it 
 while Sarah sewed. His bait was wet dough from 
 the kitchen, which was placed on two hooks sus- 
 pended from each end of a stiff wire attached to a 
 weight. He never caught anything, but it was ex- 
 citing to be at the end of so important a piece of 
 string.
 
 ENTERTAINERS, AND A SHOCK 21 
 
 In warm weather he paddled. But the greatest 
 treat of all was to hunt for anemones among the 
 rocks a mile or so from the town and bring them 
 home to live in glass jars. He always kept a piece 
 of seaweed just outside the nursery window to fore- 
 tell the weather. When his father was away, strange 
 marine creatures often had possession of the bath. 
 
 When paddling was not possible, owing to the cold 
 or the high tide, Rudd and Sarah would walk slowly 
 along the Front and study the performers. 
 
 Best of all the entertainers Rudd liked Don Patos. 
 
 Don Patos was a pathetic Spanish nobleman of 
 aristocratic mien. He had moustaches and an im- 
 perial waxed at the ends in the manner of Napoleon 
 III. His face was pale and anxious. 
 
 Don Patos was unique among the performers. He 
 was pushed to his pitch below the promenade in a 
 bath-chair, the motive power of which was a stout 
 and rather shabby lady who was understood to be 
 his wife. She spoke English and might have been 
 English. When he was established she would begin 
 to shake a tambourine while the Don watched the 
 little band of spectators slowly increasing. When 
 he judged that the crowd was large enough or rich 
 enough, he extricated himself by means of a crutch 
 and moved painfully to the centre of the ring. For 
 he had but one leg. There he flung off his black 
 covering and revealed himself garbed in dazzling red 
 and gold, with a large flowing cloak over all. But 
 he revealed more than this, for it was now that the
 
 22 LANDMARKS 
 
 observer noticed the most wonderful thing about him, 
 which was the remarkable oneness of his one leg. 
 There was no doubt about it; the Don was pre- 
 eminently a one-legged man. There was not an inch 
 of the other to be seen; it was as non-existent as 
 that of a resting stork. 
 
 Don Patos, having arranged his draperies, would 
 make as stately an obeisance as a one-legged man 
 can do and far more stately, owing to his aristo- 
 cratic mien, than many a biped and begin to revolve 
 on his solitary foot, while his wife beat and rattled 
 the tambourine with more energy and more. 
 
 Faster and faster would the Don rotate, while his 
 cloak flew out all around him : a magnificent and 
 melancholy human top. 
 
 But his culminating achievement was the arum-lily 
 dance. For this he exchanged his coloured cloak for 
 a white one, and whirled and twirled on his solitary 
 foot until the cloak resembled the chalice and his 
 head and shoulders the pistil of that funereal flower. 
 
 He would then gradually subside until he came to 
 a standstill again, again bow and hop back to his 
 bath-chair, from which he would look with grave and 
 faintly appealing eyes at the spectators as his wife 
 passed among them with her tambourine, now trans- 
 formed into an offertory plate. 
 
 One-legged, and absurd as was his performance, 
 the Don never lost dignity. How often a day he 
 gyrated, I cannot say, but never enough for Rudd, 
 who tore himself away from the Don with difficulty,
 
 ENTERTAINERS, AND A SHOCK 23 
 
 no matter how fascinating a neighbouring entertain- 
 ment might be. 
 
 And sometimes he would see the Don being pushed 
 homewards in a distant street, always pale and dis- 
 tinguished and foreign, always the Spanish nobleman, 
 and thrill at the recognition, as we poor ordinary 
 mortals always have thrilled and always will thrill 
 at the spectacle of public performers in any phase of 
 private life. 
 
 The Don fascinated Rudd by his wistfulness and 
 aloofness. There was also a huge negro entertainer 
 who fascinated him through his fears. 
 
 This man's performance was unique too. He 
 carried with him a little bundle of thin white taper- 
 ing sticks about three feet long, and these, with the 
 aid of a piece of string, he threw to enormous heights 
 over the big hotels. He first intimated what he would 
 do, and then asked for a shilling's worth of coppers 
 before he would do it. Rudd saw him so often that 
 he grew to estimate the generosity of an audience as 
 accurately as the negro himself. He would look at 
 the crowd and know to a penny what they were 
 worth and what were his chances of seeing this 
 alluring feat again. 
 
 At last the money would all be collected, several 
 little boys assisting the negro in harvesting it, and 
 then, after far too much prefatory palaver, he would 
 begin. Can it have been impatience under these pre- 
 liminaries the graspingness, the interminable talk 
 that set up in the child a revolt against ceremonial
 
 24 LANDMARKS 
 
 and redundancy which lasted till the end and made 
 him always swift and direct? If so, how little the 
 big negro knew it ! And even the conscious 
 teachers perhaps instruct best when they are least 
 conscious. 
 
 But when the stick was thrown it was splendid. 
 The negro would point to its passage through the 
 air, his great white teeth and wide nose watching it 
 too. Sometimes Rudd could not see it as it went 
 up, but at some point its whiteness would catch 
 the light and gleam in the sky; and then down it 
 came again, usually very near to the point from 
 which it was thrown (but not so near as the negro 
 had promised), and another servile little boy would 
 retrieve it. 
 
 The negro would then place a piece of board in his 
 mouth and balance a boy on it, to prove how strong 
 were his teeth. 
 
 So far he had done nothing terrifying; but he 
 always finished his performance in that mood. He 
 turned his back, a great smiling creature, and then, 
 turning again, was a horrible snarling beast, with 
 huge fangs and a foaming mouth and red eyes. 
 Thus disguised, he made rushes at the small boys, 
 from which they fled shrieking. He kept these fangs 
 in his waistcoat pocket, but he was not the less 
 frightening for that. Rudd would not have left the 
 security of the upper promenade for anything. 
 
 Then there was a conjurer who carried a tiny 
 circular red table-top and three collapsible legs under
 
 ENTERTAINERS, AND A SHOCK 25 
 
 his arm, to set up here and there by the railings 
 among the cabs. He did not perform on the lower 
 pavement, because that would have given his audi- 
 ence's eyes an unfair advantage. He was an elderly 
 stooping man deeply pitted with small-pox, and his 
 two great tricks were done with three cups and balls 
 and a guinea-pig and a hat. 
 
 Rudd saw him do these a thousand times and never 
 discovered the exact moment when the three potatoes 
 got under the cups instead of the little balls, or at 
 what instant the guinea-pig left his pocket and took 
 the place of the cabbage under the hat. But that the 
 guinea-pig lived in his pocket he knew, because the 
 man's coat was getting so old that the pocket sagged 
 and you could see its nose twitching. 
 
 For Punch and Judy, Rudd cared very little ; but it 
 was a great day when two brothers who were Thought 
 Readers arrived. One was blindfolded, while the 
 other passed among the people and asked the blind- 
 folded one to state what he had in his hand. Talk 
 about magic ! These were magicians, if you like. 
 The blindfolded brother hardly ever made a mistake, 
 and if he chanced to do so, it needed only two or 
 three more questions to put him on the right tack. 
 And always when the other brother laid his hand on 
 a perambulator (as he did at some period during 
 every performance) and asked what was there, the 
 blindfolded brother replied, " A beautiful baby," and 
 always when the other brother continued, " Yes, but 
 say now what is the colour of the baby's eyes ? " the
 
 26 LANDMARKS 
 
 blindfolded brother replied, " The colour of the baby's 
 eyes are blew." 
 
 And the niggers ! They were, when all is said, 
 the most satisfactory of all, for they often had new 
 songs, and they threw up the sponge much later than 
 the others, since when the autumn came they would 
 take their stand in a street and make things lively 
 there, whereas the Thought Readers and the big 
 negro and the other sun-beetles disappeared till next 
 year. 
 
 One or two of the niggers came to know Sarah 
 and Rudd quite well, and had little jokes with Sarah, 
 and they were the only performers who ever succeeded 
 in extracting a penny from her shabby black purse. 
 Rudd used to long for her to give the Don something, 
 but Sarah refused. She had patriotic prejudices. 
 She didn't hold with foreigners. 
 
 The first comic songs that Rudd heard were 
 "Tommy, make room for your Uncle," and "Over 
 the Garden Wall." Years after he had but to catch 
 an echo of " Over the Garden Wall " in any more 
 recent ^song to be conscious at once of the hot 
 asphalt smell of the Front under the summer sun. 
 The first serious song to capture him was " Nancy 
 Lee." 
 
 There was a ventriloquist too, but Rudd had a 
 very low opinion of him because you could see his 
 mouth move. And a blind tenor, but his songs were 
 sentimental, and of course the duty of singers on the 
 Front was to be funny ; and a blind whistler ; and
 
 ENTERTAINERS, AND A SHOCK 27 
 
 an old man who sold for a penny magnifying 
 glasses, with which on sunny days he would light his 
 pipe. 
 
 But these were ordinary people, fairly easily passed 
 by without even a second tug at Sarah's hand. Don 
 Patos and the terrible negro were different. They 
 compelled attention. 
 
 But were they landmarks ? I hear you ask. 
 Surely the life of no boy is worth writing to whom 
 a nigger and a one-legged Spanish pirouetting 
 gentleman had the dignity of landmarks? Quite 
 so. And the landmark follows : these were merely 
 an ingredient of it ; for one day all this mile of fun 
 and interest lost its savour. 
 
 You must understand that Rudd knew what it was 
 to be ducked beneath the surface even of the placid 
 waters. Foolish bathing women, too stupid to 
 realize that this alien and hostile element must be 
 allowed to woo that the approval of sea and child 
 must be mutual had too often forced him under in a 
 passion of revolt with mouth still open in protest, and 
 landed him half choked and infuriated. 
 
 It happened that during breakfast Mr. Sergison 
 read out an account of a tidal wave which had en- 
 gulfed a large part of an island in the Pacific. The 
 natives, all unsuspecting, had been pursuing their life 
 in the usual manner, when suddenly a mighty and 
 dreadful sound was heard, growing louder and nearer, 
 and out at sea a huge green wall with a roaring foam- 
 ing top to it was seen advancing steadily on the shore.
 
 28 LANDMARKS 
 
 Those natives who saw it rushed, shrieking madly, up 
 the hills. 
 
 On and on it came with appalling swiftness and 
 more and more noise, twenty feet high, and then, 
 sliding over the shore, carried all before it. Only 
 those who were on high enough ground were saved 
 to tell the awful tale. 
 
 Rudd listened in horror. A tidal wave. That 
 was the end of the Front for him. At any moment 
 one might come ; and then . . . 
 
 Mrs. Sergison noticed his white panic-stricken face 
 and called on her husband to stop ; but the mischief 
 was done. Rudd could never forget it. 
 
 It was in vain that it was explained to him that 
 such upheavals were caused by earthquakes or 
 volcanoes under the sea, and that there were no 
 earthquakes or volcanoes in our parts ; he clung to 
 his fear. Not only did he refuse to descend the hill 
 to the sea, but he refused to look at the sea from the 
 heights lest the great advancing green wall of water 
 might at that moment come into view, with its roaring 
 foaming crest, advancing, advancing, to drown every 
 one down there on that perilous shore. 
 
 Anything almost was better than such a death 
 as that. 
 
 He thought of all the performers who would be 
 submerged for ever ; but most of all poor Don Patos. 
 The niggers might get away, the big negro certainly 
 would ; but how could the Don escape with only 
 one leg?
 
 ENTERTAINERS, AND A SHOCK 29 
 
 It was weeks before Rudd could be happy by the 
 sea again, and then at any moment the fear of the 
 wave might come, and, looking nervously backward, 
 he would tug at Sarah's hand as they hurried up the 
 hill. 
 
 For years afterwards the tidal wave occupied a 
 capacious loose -box in his nightmares' stable a 
 gigantic overwhelming green wall of water in which 
 a one-legged man in a scarlet cloak vainly struggled.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 THE NICE GARDENER AND A PROBLEM 
 
 T T NCLE HECTOR, who was a soldier, having 
 \^J been made governor of a prison, the Sergisons 
 paid him a week-end visit in his new quarters. 
 
 The prison was on a hill on the edge of a county 
 town. It had very high walls all round it, with 
 spikes on the top, and a gloomy gateway with iron- 
 studded doors which opened only to allow the prison 
 van to rumble through, bringing new prisoners ; but 
 Uncle Hector's own quarters were comfortable and 
 cheerful enough, and his garden was gay and pretty, 
 with a croquet lawn and a summer house. 
 
 When Rudd heard that he was going on a visit to 
 so terrible a place as a prison he was frightened and 
 unwilling ; but curiosity and excitement combined to 
 conquer this reluctance. Still, he shuddered when 
 he was alone and thought of all the bad men kept 
 there. Supposing one should get out and break into 
 the Governor's room for revenge . . . 
 
 " I'm sure you'd like to go through the prison with 
 me," Uncle Hector said. 
 
 But Rudd shrank from the idea. He had a horror 
 30
 
 THE NICE GARDENER AND A PROBLEM 31 
 
 of bad people. It was uncomfortable enough to be 
 so near them as this ; he did not want to see their 
 wicked faces. 
 
 "An empty cell," said Uncle Hector "wouldn't 
 you like to see that ? " 
 
 But Rudd shrank from that too. 
 
 After lunch he was thrown on his own resources, 
 and he would have found the time a little heavy but 
 for Uncle Hector's garden, to which he took an old 
 volume of Punch. 
 
 He had not long been reading, or rather looking at 
 the pictures, when the gardener came in with a can 
 and began to water the flowers. 
 
 He was a strong, stout man with a short grey 
 beard. He looked at Rudd now and then and 
 smiled. Rudd found himself looking at the gardener 
 oftener than at Punch. 
 
 Gradually the watering brought the gardener close 
 to Rudd's seat. " Hullo, sonny ! " he said. 
 
 "Hullo! "said Rudd. 
 
 " What do you think of life ? " the gardener 
 asked. 
 
 Rudd had never thought of life, so he merely 
 smiled perplexedly. 
 
 " A rum business, isn't it ? " said the gardener. 
 
 "Is it? "Rudd asked. 
 
 " Not to you yet," said the gardener. " Tell me, 
 sonny, you do pretty much as you like, I suppose? 
 Go where you will, with your hands in your pockets, 
 don't you ? "
 
 32 LANDMARKS 
 
 Rudd acquiesced. 
 
 " Tell me what it feels like to do as you like," said 
 the gardener. "Whew!" he whistled, "but I must 
 get on with my work." 
 
 The next time he came round the gardener asked 
 Rudd where he lived, and when Rudd said at Caston 
 he wanted to know if the sea there was still wet and 
 blue, as it used to be a thousand years ago. 
 
 " How do you know what it was like a thousand 
 years ago ? " Rudd asked, and the gardener said that 
 he could not explain it, but he did. 
 
 When Rudd asked him where he lived, the gardener 
 said he was a guest of the Queen, who was a very 
 hospitable lady and liked him so much that she 
 couldn't bear to let him go. 
 
 " But I thought the Queen lived in London," Rudd 
 said. 
 
 "She does," said the gardener, "but she has a 
 number of palaces or, as you might say, hotels for 
 her guests, in other parts of the country." 
 
 " Is she very nice ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " Very," said the gardener. " God save the Queen ! " 
 and he laughed. 
 
 "Is that Punch?" he added, looking at Rudd's 
 book. "Does it still come out? Fancy seeing 
 Punch again ! " 
 
 "Of course it comes out," said Rudd. "Father 
 gets it every week. You can buy it at the station. 
 I saw some there." 
 
 " I'm not much of one to go to the station," said
 
 THE NICE GARDENER AND A PROBLEM 33 
 
 the gardener. " I haven't been out of this place for 
 years." 
 
 " Years ! " exclaimed Rudd in astonishment. " Not 
 in the evening?" 
 
 " No," said the gardener. 
 
 " Not on Sundays ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " No," said the gardener. 
 
 " The Queen must be very fond of you," said 
 Rudd, "if she won't even let you go into the 
 town." 
 
 " She is," said the gardener. " She says, ' Now 
 we've really got him we must take the greatest 
 possible care of him.' And she does." 
 
 Rudd pondered deeply, but it was all too mysterious 
 for him. Still, he found the conversation absorbingly 
 interesting. 
 
 Having been asked his name, and told it, Rudd 
 asked the gardener to tell him his. 
 
 " I haven't got one," said the gardener, " I've lost 
 it. The Queen is very funny about names she 
 doesn't like them. So she gives all her guests 
 numbers instead. My number is 231." 
 
 " How long will you stay with her?" Rudd asked, 
 and the gardener said that he didn't quite know, but 
 he thought for another eighteen months. 
 
 " And then where will you go ? " Rudd asked, and 
 was astonished at the strange smile which came into 
 the gardener's face. 
 
 "Where shall I go?" he said. "Ah, where shan't 
 I go? But first of all to London." 
 3
 
 34 LANDMARKS 
 
 " Yes," said Rudd, " that is where I should go 
 first." 
 
 " That's right," said the gardener. " There's nothing 
 like it. You can be quiet there." 
 
 Quiet ! thought Rudd. He didn't want to be quiet. 
 " But I should want to see things," he said, " when I 
 went to London. The Zoo and the Tower and 
 Piccadilly Circus. I love circuses. Wouldn't you?" 
 
 The gardener shook his grey head. 
 
 " What would you do first ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " First ? " he said. " First I should go to a restaurant 
 I know of, for what do you think ? " 
 
 " A pork pie," said Rudd. 
 
 "No," said the gardener, "for some saddle of 
 mutton with red currant jelly and a bottle of claret ; 
 then some Stilton cheese and a glass of port; and 
 then a cigar. After that I have no plans." 
 
 Rudd thought he was the funniest person he had 
 ever met. Fancy thinking like that about mutton, 
 that horrid stuff. 
 
 " Where are you going to garden when you leave 
 the Queen ? " Rudd asked. " We keep a gardener," 
 he added. " I wish you'd come to us. Do." 
 
 " I don't know," said 231, "whether I won't give up 
 gardening. I haven't decided yet. Perhaps I shall 
 have a gardener of my own." 
 
 This was an enormous idea to Rudd. A gardener 
 keep a gardener ! His eyes grew very wide. 
 
 " You'd want to be rather rich, wouldn't you ? " he 
 said.
 
 THE NICE GARDENER AND A PROBLEM 35 
 
 " I hope to be," said 231 ; " don't you ? " 
 
 " I am," said Rudd simply, " I've got nearly two 
 pounds. I had a sovereign when I was born." 
 
 The gardener asked Rudd what he was going to 
 be when he grew up, and Rudd said he had hadn't 
 decided yet, but most probably either a railway 
 guard or a lamplighter. " I suppose you've always 
 been a gardener," he added. 
 
 "I have been all kinds of things," said 231. "In 
 fact, gardening came late in life. I've even been a 
 traveller," and he told Rudd curious and fascinating 
 stories about foreign lands : and what Sydney harbour 
 was like, and how San Francisco looked from the sea, 
 and how strange the China Town there was, and 
 about flying-fishes and whales, until Rudd realized 
 that to carry a long pole with a light at the end, or 
 to jump on a train after it had started, was not all. 
 Travel was the thing. Long voyages. And what a 
 travelling companion was this delightful man ! 
 
 And when Rudd fell over a croquet hoop and made 
 his nose bleed, the gardener was very kind to him, 
 and took him to his shed and bathed his face and put 
 a cold key down his back. Altogether Rudd thought 
 him the nicest casual acquaintance he had ever met. 
 
 When he went in to tea and was asked how he had 
 been spending the time, Rudd said that he had been 
 talking to the gardener. 
 
 "I'm afraid," said Uncle Hector, laughing, "that 
 Rudd has fallen into bad company." 
 
 Rudd looked up with a start.
 
 36 LANDMARKS 
 
 "As a matter of fact," Uncle Hector continued, 
 " my garden at the moment is being attended to by a 
 notorious criminal, no less a person than the famous 
 Tyser, the swindler, himself." 
 
 " Not the scoundrel who ruined all those small 
 investors ? " said Mrs. Sergison. 
 
 " The very man," said Uncle Hector. 
 
 Rudd's face went scarlet. His blood surged. 
 
 " But he told me he was staying with the Queen," 
 he said. " Surely she wouldn't have swindlers to stay 
 with her?" 
 
 Uncle Hector laughed. " He's a very amusing 
 fellow," he said ; " he meant that he is a prisoner." 
 
 Rudd's head swam. His nice gardener a swindler 
 and a prisoner. A notorious criminal. But how then 
 could he be nice ? Surely prisoners were gloomy men 
 with sullen faces ? How could they be amusing and 
 friendly? They were wicked. Rudd was puzzled 
 and silent all the evening. 
 
 When his mother came to say good-night he put 
 the case to her. "If 231 wasn't really wicked he 
 would not be in prison, would he ? " 
 
 " No," she said. The nuances of right and wrong : 
 the mingled skein of character: the shades of grey 
 between the black and the white : how could she 
 explain these to a child ? Better say nothing. 
 
 " But if he was really wicked how could he laugh 
 and be so kind and so jolly ? " 
 
 " Perhaps," said Mrs. Sergison, with an inspiration, 
 " he is sorry and has repented, and is now beginning
 
 THE NICE GARDENER AND A PROBLEM 37 
 
 to feel happy again. Just like you after you have 
 been punished and forgiven." 
 
 "Then they ought to let him free," said Rudd. 
 " Shouldn't they ? " 
 
 Mrs. Sergison here chose the better part of valour 
 and urged Rudd to go to sleep. 
 
 " Shouldn't they ? " Rudd repeated. 
 
 " It's for the judges and wise people to decide," 
 said Mrs. Sergison, " not for us," and kissed him 
 good-night. 
 
 Rudd puzzled over it for a long time. To be so 
 wicked a ruiner of families, his father had said 
 and so nice. To be so nice and so wicked. To be 
 so kind and a prisoner. To be a prisoner and so 
 kind. So his thoughts ran until he slept. 
 
 He was not altogether sorry the next day that 
 it was Sunday and there was no garden work to 
 be done ; and on the Monday morning they went 
 home again. 
 
 And yet he wished too that he could see the 
 gardener once more. He wanted to examine his face 
 in a new way. He had been so kind and had smiled 
 so gaily. Was it all put on ? And to be so near one 
 who, whatever his present state of virtue, had once 
 been that terrible thing, a notorious criminal, a 
 swindler, a ruiner of families that would be frightfully 
 exciting. 
 
 But all the fun would have gone of that Rudd was 
 indistinctly sure.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE TERRIFYING LAW 
 
 SARAH JUNIPER'S sister Kate had married a 
 small farmer who lived a dozen miles from Caston, 
 and every year Rudd and Sarah stayed there for a 
 week or so when Mr. and Mrs. Sergison were away in 
 Scotland or something was being done to the house. 
 
 Mr. Hoadley, the farmer, who had no children of 
 his own, was fond of Rudd and took him on his daily 
 rounds. Now and then they visited the neighbouring 
 markets together, where Rudd participated in the sale 
 or purchase of sheep and calves, and once they bought 
 a horse which Rudd helped to lead home. Rudd had 
 an ash stick with which to prod beasts as a test of 
 their fatness. He learned to utter strange sounds 
 of encouragement to a team. 
 
 In the evening Mr. Hoadley would join in a game 
 of cards, the game being a geographical form of 
 " Families." The fathers were the English counties, 
 and the children consisted of four prominent towns in 
 each, these towns being depicted very gaily on the 
 cards. 
 
 " Perhaps," Mr. Hoadley would say when his turn 
 38
 
 THE TERRIFYING LAW 39 
 
 came round, having in mind some previous inquiries 
 on behalf of Warwickshire by his young friend ; 
 " Perhaps, Master Rudd, you will give me Leaming- 
 ton ? " 
 
 " I'm sorry," said Rudd, " but I can't oblige. But I 
 shall be glad if you will give me Warwick." 
 
 And Mr. Hoadley would disgorge Warwick with 
 every appearance of discontent. 
 
 " And Rugby," Rudd would add, thus depriving 
 Mr. Hoadley of his last Warwickshire possession. 
 
 On these visits Rudd was rapturously happy, for 
 Nature was always his friend. Each morning he 
 himself found the new-laid egg for his breakfast and 
 with a sand-glass timed its boiling, which is a very 
 exciting thing to do; and then came the round of 
 inspection with Mr. Hoadley. The rest of the day 
 was given to desultory play about the farm, helping 
 to cut chaff or slice mangolds, nibbling oat cake 
 (of which he grew rapturously fond), shovelling corn 
 with a wooden spade, putting purple mottled beans 
 into sacks, climbing the hay-stacks, or going with 
 Sarah for flower-picking walks. 
 
 Sarah, being country-bred, knew many things. 
 She knew that milk-wort is good for warts, that the 
 heads of barley will run up your sleeve, that burrs will 
 stick on clothes, that the mallow has a little cheese 
 inside it and the periwinkle a little broom, and that 
 nettles won't sting this month. 
 
 A mile away there was a deserted Elizabethan 
 house which at once repelled and fascinated Rudd.
 
 40 LANDMARKS 
 
 He would not have entered it alone for anything, and 
 even with Sarah he was afraid ; but with Sarah he 
 could and would do it. It was overgrown with ivy, 
 and bats and owls inhabited it; the diamond panes 
 had gone from the windows ; the doors were off their 
 hinges; the garden was full of weeds head-high. 
 Tightly holding Sarah's hand Rudd passed quiveringly 
 from room to room, and when they came away he 
 cast fearful looks back and accelerated her steps. 
 Yet he always wanted to go there again. With Sarah 
 he would do anything, for she had never betrayed 
 him. 
 
 The kitchen where the happy, happy evenings 
 were spent was a low Tudor room with a black 
 ceiling and blacker beams, and a gun over the 
 mantelpiece. It smelt all day of burning wood and 
 all night of Mr. Hoadley's tobacco. 
 
 On one of Rudd's spring visits to the Hoadleys' 
 there hung from a nail on a beam a string on which 
 had been threaded a dozen or so of birds' eggs which 
 Sarah and he had found. He was limited to one from 
 each nest ; but he was an active collector and quickly 
 brought together a nice little assortment. 
 
 The eggs were blown through a hole at each end, 
 and they made a pretty necklace with their gay and 
 soft colourings : the tender pure azure of the hedge 
 sparrow, the blood-spotted robin, the hieroglyphed 
 chaffinch, and the bold black markings on the thrush's 
 blue. They were Rudd's greatest treasure. 
 
 One evening when Sarah was out, just as cards
 
 THE TERRIFYING LAW 41 
 
 were beginning, a stern knock was heard at the door 
 and in strode the village policeman. 
 
 It was the first time that Rudd had ever been in 
 the same room with a policeman, and he was properly 
 nervous. Although belonging to a class into whose 
 ranks the police seldom break, at any rate as terrifiers 
 of the young, Rudd shared Small England's ordinary 
 misgivings as to the men in blue. They were enemies, 
 he knew, the police and boys, boys and the police, 
 although he knew it only vaguely. The fact was 
 remote, but it was a fact none the less. 
 
 " I suppose you've come about those birds' eggs," 
 said Mr. Hoadley, with a broad wink to the constable, 
 which Rudd did not see. Mr. Hoadley was the kind 
 of humorist that requires a victim. 
 
 The policeman, following Mr. Hoadley's gaze, fixed 
 his eyes on the string, and Rudd turned cold. He 
 remembered indistinctly but terrifyingly something 
 he had heard regarding the protection of wild birds. 
 If only Sarah were in ! 
 
 " Let's see, what's the punishment for taking eggs 
 this year?" Mr. Hoadley went on, ruthlessly facetious. 
 
 Rudd quaked and shivered, not only with fear but 
 with the sudden knowledge that one of his best friends 
 could be treacherous. 
 
 The policeman, doing his best to be a jester too, 
 affected to feel his pocket for documents or possibly 
 even handcuffs ; but Rudd could stand no more. He 
 burst into tears and the joke was over. 
 
 It was explained away and the policeman de-
 
 42 LANDMARKS 
 
 veloped all kinds of ingratiating human traits, but 
 the shock had been too severe, and for a long time 
 Rudd was inconsolable. 
 
 Mrs. Hoadley reproached her husband with severity. 
 
 " It's always like that with Hoadley's jokes," she 
 said. " He goes too far." 
 
 "Only a bit of fun, missus," said the crestfallen 
 wag. " Here, Master Rudd, come and help me wind 
 up my watch." 
 
 And Rudd warily approached him, with perplexity 
 still on his face. 
 
 But it was not until the policeman went that he 
 could breathe fairly naturally again. 
 
 Mr. Hoadley worked vigorously to undo his mis- 
 chief, but he had no luck that night. In the morning, 
 however, he found a squirrel's nest blown to the 
 ground with four young squirrels dead in it, and his 
 promise to have one of these stuffed for Rudd and 
 set up realistically in its case by the village taxi- 
 dermist, restored the boy's confidence. Together 
 they descended the street to arrange for the work 
 of art. 
 
 Thus was the memory of the evening made misty ; 
 but it was never effaced. Thereafter for ever a 
 policeman was a menace too, and for a while the 
 birds of that district retained their full clutches.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 A BETRAYAL 
 
 SARAH, as I have said, was Rudd's confidante, 
 comforter, and rock. She was, to his eyes, com- 
 plete ; trustworthy beyond any test ; and in being his 
 nurse, her destiny was fulfilled. 
 
 Had Rudd been a little girl instead of a little 
 boy, perhaps Sarah would have been more com- 
 municative, and hints that she too was a woman 
 and liable to weakness might have leaked out, if 
 not actual stories of emotional hopes and fears and 
 triumphs. But Rudd knew only that Sarah had 
 been born and bred in order to be his nurse and 
 see that his stockings were mended, that he had 
 enough handkerchiefs, that his hair was tidy, his 
 nails clean (or thereabouts), to accompany him for 
 walks, and in stressful times be ready with the 
 arnica. 
 
 But Sarah Juniper, although to Rudd she was 
 patriarchal, was to the eye of the world a woman of 
 comfortable build and by no means past her prime, 
 if indeed she had yet reached it. That she had 
 admirers, is certain, but her manner with those whom
 
 44 LANDMARKS 
 
 she resented, and Rudd knew nothing of any others, 
 was distant and steely. 
 
 Thus, when the butcher's young man, whom Rudd 
 envied immensely because he drove so fast both up 
 and down hill, and never wore a hat over his beauti- 
 fully greased hair, sent Sarah a Christmas card, she 
 threw it at once on the fire. 
 
 Rudd watched the action with horror. Christmas 
 cards at that time were still treasurable articles of 
 some value : Rudd had an album in which his were 
 carefully pasted, with the name of the sender and the 
 year underneath ; and besides, Christmas was sacred. 
 If the butcher's young man had sent him a card it 
 would have a place of honour. And Sarah had 
 burnt hers ! For a moment Rudd wavered in his 
 allegiance to this power ; but he quickly recovered 
 Sarah could do no wrong. 
 
 Still, how different from Annie, the housemaid, 
 who boasted of her admirers, and displayed all their 
 presents, and just across the road, in full view, was 
 openly waited for on her Sunday afternoons and 
 evenings out, by a young man who worked at the 
 grocer's ! 
 
 Why Annie should be so fond of her Ted, and 
 Sarah should burn the butcher's young man's Christ- 
 mas card, Rudd had no notion. Yet the disparity 
 did not really trouble him, for Sarah was above 
 criticism. 
 
 And then he had a shock. 
 
 One day on one of the visits to the Hoadleys,
 
 A BETRAYAL 45 
 
 Sarah was surprisingly lively in a new way. Com- 
 monly so calm and unenthusiastic, taking things as 
 they came with unruffled acceptance (" He who sends 
 the flea sends the ringer nail," was one of her sayings), 
 Sarah surprised Rudd by becoming jumpy and gay. 
 At intervals she sang a few lines of a song with a 
 pretty tune: 
 
 "A starry night for a ramble 
 
 In the flowery dell, 
 Through the bush and bramble, 
 Kiss and never tell ! " 
 
 Then she would laugh. Rudd was uneasy. It was 
 all unlike his Sarah, so composed and correct. 
 
 That evening Mr. and Mrs. Hoadley and Rudd 
 played cards alone. Sarah was out. 
 
 " Where's Sarah ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 Mr. Hoadley grinned at his wife. 
 
 "She'll be back soon," said Mr. Hoadley. "Can 
 you give me Leeds, Master Rudd ? " 
 
 " No, I can't," said Rudd. " Mrs. Hoadley, can you 
 give me Cheltenham ? " 
 
 At the end of the game Rudd went to the door 
 and slipped out. As he stood there in the dark he 
 heard a smothered laugh and Sarah's voice saying, 
 "Give over!" 
 
 Then a man laughed and there was the sound of a 
 kiss and a struggle. 
 
 Then Sarah suddenly appeared. 
 
 But not his Sarah ! Not Sarah self-possessed and
 
 46 LANDMARKS 
 
 placid and meticulously tidy, but a Sarah excited and 
 wispy and flushed. 
 
 What Rudd felt, it is hard to say, but he looked 
 at Sarah with new eyes. A flaw had shown in the 
 marble. Sarah had become ordinary; more than 
 ordinary, disquieting. He could not forget her 
 flushed face. 
 
 Mr. Hoadley shut the door, and Sarah went up- 
 stairs, and in a few moments she returned composed 
 and herself again save for a heightened colour; but 
 Rudd did not seem to want to be near her. For the 
 first time he was repelled by her. He had seen 
 passion and it was ugly. 
 
 From that moment he ceased to consider her his 
 encyclopaedia and tutelary genius in one. He did 
 more things for himself and carried many of his 
 questions elsewhere. Sarah had been found wanting: 
 she had betrayed him. No servant has the right to 
 be so human as to change her face.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 THE WAGER 
 
 SOME of the happiest hours of Rudd's early life 
 were spent in the Oldshire County Ground at 
 Caston. 
 
 Mr. Sergison was a great follower of cricket and 
 he often took Rudd into the Pavilion with him, 
 where they sat among the Oldshire patrons and 
 came very near indeed to the great men of the 
 world such as Lord Harris and Jack Shuter, 
 W. W. Read and the Hon. Ivo Bligh, the Australian 
 giant, Bonnor, with his fair beard, and another ! 
 
 Rudd was never bored, although too young to 
 understand the finesse of the game, Not even Scotton 
 or Louis Hall could bore him. It was enough that 
 they were batting on a green field and eleven men 
 were trying to get them out. 
 
 Those were the days when you could pick out the 
 professionals and the amateurs by their clothes ; and 
 an over had only four balls in it ; and no cricketer 
 dreamed of stopping to drink tea ; and even W. G. 
 could leave the pavilion without being photographed ; 
 and point stood at point; and there were often as 
 
 4T
 
 48 LANDMARKS 
 
 many as four men on the on side ; and no professional 
 advertised tonics, because no professional ever took 
 them. None the less, Rudd and the other spectators 
 thought the game as good as it could be. 
 
 It was the custom at the Oldshire County Cricket 
 ground and still is, but under safer conditions 
 for the amateurs to have a few minutes' practice 
 before the match began, when their ambition seemed 
 to be not so much to defend their wickets against 
 good bowling as to hit indifferent bowling into the 
 empyrean. To hit high and far and often was the 
 thing. 
 
 Any boy on the ground who chanced to possess 
 a ball was allowed to bowl, and naturally the most 
 famous batsmen had the greatest number of servitors. 
 
 In those days the nets extended only for a yard or 
 so beyond the batsmen, and not, as now, for the 
 length of the pitch, so that as there was a row of 
 half a dozen batsmen at least, all hitting as hard 
 as they possibly could, the position of bowler was 
 fraught with dangers comparable to those of war. 
 Balls whizzed in every direction at about a mile a 
 minute, and many were the accidents. Rudd knew 
 one boy who had lost an eye there. 
 
 One morning Rudd was early on the ground, as he 
 liked to be, to await the Gloucestershire men; and 
 on this day he had to be earlier still in order to 
 secure a position at the nets with his ball, because 
 in those brave days Gloucestershire meant W. G. 
 True that other fine players were in the eleven, not
 
 THE WAGER 49 
 
 the least of them W. G/s elder brother, the active 
 and resourceful E. M. so dangerous in the field, 
 and the slender and accomplished G. F., and their 
 cousin W. R. Gilbert ; but it was W. G. who drew the 
 crowd. His towering bulk and black beard were the 
 loadstone, and Rudd's mind this morning was filled 
 with the determination (weak and infirm as was his 
 youthful arm) to make one of the Doctor's bowlers 
 just to be able to say he had done so. 
 
 So many bowlers were there that the great man 
 had no time to do more than recover his footing 
 before the next ball came along. This haste and 
 absence of his usual careful preliminaries probably 
 were as much the cause of the terrific thing that 
 happened as any transcendent merit in Rudd's 
 bowling ; but be that as it may, Rudd sent down 
 a ball, W. G. stepped out to hit, missed it, and was 
 bowled middle stump. 
 
 Rudd glowed all day and might have been seen 
 mysteriously smiling to himself no matter where he 
 was. The fact did not pass into his anecdotal 
 repertory, but the memory of the triumph was 
 magnificently framed and hung on the line in the 
 gallery of his heart. 
 
 That, however, was not of the first importance, 
 nor was W. G. for all his glory Rudd's prime hero. 
 His prime hero and the first man to lift the boy 
 to the stature and condition of a man and sporting 
 man at that was another. But you shall hear. 
 
 It was when Rudd was ten that a match between 
 4
 
 50 LANDMARKS 
 
 the Gentlemen and the Players was played at Caston 
 for the benefit of a great bowler who had just retired, 
 and Rudd was there all three days. It was one of 
 the most remarkable contests on record, because 
 both sides made the same score in the first innnings, 
 and the finish was extraordinarily close. 
 
 Rudd had seen many matches with exciting 
 moments, but nothing like this, nor in after life did 
 he, much as he frequented Lord's and the Oval, ever 
 see another quite so dramatic. 
 
 But it was not merely the excitement that endowed 
 the third day with its red letter, but the distinction 
 which Rudd enjoyed of sitting in the closest intimacy 
 with his ideal cricketer, and being treated not only 
 as an equal but as a gentleman and a gambler. 
 
 And who was Rudd's hero ? 
 
 Rudd's hero was a shortish, very active man, with 
 a tanned cheek, and a small thick moustache, and 
 very white teeth, and a brilliant eye. He usually 
 went in first, with Barlow (a racehorse "with a 
 teamster), and he hit very hard, called his partner 
 loudly, ran very short runs, and under no circum- 
 stances wore anything on his head. 
 
 His name? 
 
 His name was A. N. Hornby, and he was captain 
 of Lancashire, and on this occasion captain of the 
 Gentlemen. 
 
 Rudd saw most of the counties, but none contained 
 a personality so fascinating to him as this impulsive 
 Lancastrian, the ideal amateur.
 
 THE WAGER 51 
 
 The Players batted first, sending in the genial 
 Yorkshire colossus, George Ulyett, and the cautious 
 polished Shrewsbury. But George fell instantly to a 
 wily one from the insidious Mr. Appleby. Then 
 came Barnes of Notts, jovial and reckless, who 
 rattled up thirty-six; and the plodding Selby, who was 
 caught at the wicket by Mr. Tylecote ; and then Mr. 
 Hornby's patient associate Barlow, who never got 
 out at all, partly because Mr. Hornby was not with 
 him to run him out, and partly because he took no 
 risks, but made fifty-four in his stone-walling way; 
 and then that winning mirthful Yorkshireman, Willy 
 Bates, who made a light-heat ted fifty ; and then the 
 greatest character of them ail at that day and for 
 long after, Tom Emmett himself, with his huge comic 
 nose, only one remove from Carnival night, and his 
 shambling gait, and a smile as broad as one of his 
 own Ridings. 
 
 The last four were Charlwood of Sussex, A. Payne, 
 the wicket-keeper, Alfred Shaw, the Ulysses of 
 bowlers, and his dangerous fast ally, F. Morley ; and 
 the whole side made 204, Mr. Appleby accounting 
 for six of them. 
 
 The Gentlemen as a whole were less illustrious, 
 but A. G. Steel was among them, and A. H. Trevor, 
 and G. F. Vernon (Trevor's companion in the famous 
 Rickling Green partnership), and especially Mr. 
 Hornby, who made top score with sixty-nine, the 
 whole side being out also for 204. 
 
 The Pavilion having buzzed for twenty minutes
 
 52 LANDMARKS 
 
 with the coincidence, the Players went in again. This 
 time Mr. Steel succeeded in getting Barlow caught ; 
 Ulyett made fourteen ; and the chief scorers were 
 Selby with forty-six and Bates with twenty-three. 
 The total was a poor 112; and Mr. Steel claimed 
 seven wickets. 
 
 The weather was fair, the pitch was good, and 112 
 seemed a trifling total for a team of high-stepping 
 amateurs to exceed, when the Gentlemen went to the 
 wicket again. But the bowling and fielding turned 
 out to be too good. Alfred Shaw, who had done 
 nothing in the first innings, now began to be difficult ; 
 and when Mr. Steel and Mr. Hornby were both out 
 for only thirty-seven between them, and the score 
 was still low, and no remarkable batsmen were left 
 to go in, the situation began to look serious for the 
 amateurs. 
 
 Mr. Hornby, on retiring to the Pavilion, hastily 
 removed his pads and came out to the top row to 
 watch. It was packed ; not a seat ; so, seizing Rudd, 
 he lifted him up, insinuated himself beneath him, and 
 placed him on his knee. Rudd flushed with pride. 
 
 " Now," Mr. Hornby said, " who's going to win ? " 
 
 " The Gentlemen," said Rudd loyally. 
 
 " I'm afraid not," said the prince of men. " But 
 let's have a little bet about it, you and I. I'll bet 
 you a penny the Players win. Are you on ? " 
 
 Rudd said he was, and they settled down to witness 
 the last desperate minutes of the struggle. 
 
 Mr. Tylecote all too soon placed his leg before a
 
 THE WAGER 53 
 
 straight one from Shaw, and had to go back. Mr. 
 M. P. Lucas, after making ten and raising hopes, 
 was caught at the wicket off the same astute bowler. 
 
 The score was now 107 for nine wickets. Only 
 six runs needed for victory ; but who was to make 
 them ? The partisans of the Gentlemen trembled 
 with fear, for the last man was the placid Mr. 
 Appleby, whose batting powers were only rudimentary, 
 yet surely he was good either for six runs himself or 
 to stay there while Mr. Bettesworth got them ! But 
 Shaw was bowling like the devil, and there was 
 another ball to the over, too ! 
 
 The partisans of the Players were flushed and 
 restless. Surely Mr. Appleby could not withstand 
 Shaw's cunning? The very next ball might settle 
 it all. 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Appleby allowed none of the 
 anguish of the moment to accelerate his movements 
 or disturb his serenity, but walked to the wicket with 
 unconcern, and took his middle. 
 
 Mr. Hornby groaned. " Keep in, keep in ! " he 
 murmured to his last man, who, being three hundred 
 yards away, took no notice. In a tense silence Shaw 
 delivered the last ball of the over, which Mr. Appleby 
 succeeded in snicking for one. 
 
 A shout went up. Four to tie, five to win ! 
 
 Mr. Appleby now had to face Bates, and again 
 Mr. Hornby groaned. " He can't bat," he said, " he 
 can't bat. You've lost your penny." 
 
 The fieldsmen seemed to be a week changing their
 
 54 LANDMARKS 
 
 places ; but at last Mr. Appleby had secured his 
 middle, and Bates began to run. Not a sound in 
 the place ! No one even breathed. The ball was 
 delivered ; Mr. Appleby played at it and missed it, 
 and it missed the stumps by the varnish, as they say. 
 The wicket-keeper, Payne, flung up his hands to 
 mark the miracle. Bates took the ball again and 
 again bowled, and this time Mr. Appleby got it 
 away for two, amid terrific cheers. Two to tie, three 
 to win ! 
 
 The next ball he snicked luckily for one. More 
 cheers. One to tie, two to win ! The excitement 
 was too terrible. Men's hearts left their assigned 
 quarters and climbed up into throats and even 
 mouths. Total strangers gripped their neighbours' 
 arms and legs with the force of a vice. Even Mr. 
 Hornby, seasoned as he was to the game's vicissitudes 
 and emotions, breathed in short gasps. 
 
 Mr. Bettesworth had now to play. Every eye was 
 on him. The Gentlemen's faction thought, If only he 
 can get one and collar the over we are saved ! The 
 Players' sympathizers thought, Please Heaven he's 
 either bowled or makes nothing! For Mr. Bettes- 
 worth was more to be trusted against Shaw than 
 Mr. Appleby was. 
 
 Amid another dead stillness Bates delivered the 
 last ball of the over, and Mr. Bettesworth played it 
 carefully. 
 
 A huge sigh swept the Pavilion. Respite at any 
 rate.
 
 THE WAGER 55 
 
 The fieldsmen again changed places with cynical 
 deliberateness, and again Mr. Appleby prepared to 
 bat. Everything depended upon the next moment. 
 
 Alfred Shaw, fondling the ball, looked thoughtfully 
 down his long shrewd nose. Then he altered the 
 field a little. He was laying a trap. 
 
 " Now, Arthur, you must look out," muttered Mr. 
 Hornby despairingly. 
 
 One to tie, two to win ! 
 
 Mr. Appleby glanced carelessly to the Pavilion. 
 If anyone could carry the thing through by sheer 
 want of nerves it was he. 
 
 Shaw now was ready. He took his little run, 
 moved his arm with its beautiful easy rhythm, and 
 delivered a ball which apparently had no other 
 purpose than to be hit for six. Mr. Appleby made 
 to hit it, realized that it was shorter than he thought, 
 and sweetly and simply put it back into Shaw's 
 hands. 
 
 The match was over ; the Players had won by one 
 run ! . . . 
 
 In the scene of confusion which followed, Mr. 
 Hornby disappeared and Rudd was lost among big 
 men shouting and clapping. . . . 
 
 Gradually the ground emptied. But Rudd could 
 not go yet, for he had lost a bet, and must settle it. 
 His only penny was held tightly in a hot hand as he 
 watched the door by which the Gentlemen came out. 
 One by one they emerged, and at last came his hero, 
 carrying his cricket bag and accompanied by three
 
 56 LANDMARKS 
 
 or four others, all talking and laughing. For the 
 first time Rudd saw him wearing a hat. 
 
 Many a boy would have gone up to him and said, 
 " Here's your penny," but Rudd could not break into 
 the conversation. He must keep close and wait for 
 his chance. They all walked slowly down to the 
 gate where the cabs waited, Rudd at their heels. 
 There they got into a cab. 
 
 Rudd stood by, looking earnestly at the great man 
 and hoping for a glance of recognition, but it never 
 came ; and off went the cab. 
 
 Amid so much excitement how could a captain of 
 Gentlemen remember a penny? Rudd realized that : 
 but how he would have liked to pay ! 
 
 It was not only the first bet he ever made, but the 
 only bet he ever made to a forgetful winner.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 ASTRONOMY 
 
 RUDD had been taken to the Town Hall to a 
 lecture on Astronomy. 
 
 The lecturer was a tall white-bearded man in 
 evening dress. His voice was hard and dreary, but 
 he stated astonishing facts with such conciseness that 
 one could not help listening. 
 
 He pained Rudd early in the evening by the 
 contempt which he seemed to have for the earth. 
 He always called it "our little globe." Why little? 
 Rudd wondered. Was it not the whole world? It 
 had been so till this evening, but it was the whole 
 world no longer. It was now steadily becoming an 
 atom in a vast and unimaginable solar system. 
 
 The lecturer threw on the screen a picture of the 
 bleak white caverns of the moon. The moon, he 
 said, once no doubt was populous and busy as this 
 little globe of ours. It was now dead. Some day our 
 little globe would lose its heat and be dead too. 
 Rudd shivered and trembled. How soon ? how 
 soon ? he wondered in fear. 
 
 The lecturer made astounding statements about 
 
 57
 
 58 LANDMARKS 
 
 the distance of one star from another and the 
 centuries that it would take the fastest train, or even 
 bullet, to make a journey. He asked the audience to 
 realize the rapidity with which pain travelled, and 
 then said that if a baby had an arm long enough to 
 touch the sun, and touched it, he would be an old 
 man of more than a hundred before he knew that he 
 had been burnt. 
 
 Rudd, all perplexity and dread anxiety, was lost 
 in immensities of time and space. He saw stars 
 going on for ever and ever, farther and farther away, 
 so far that he was dizzy, all owing allegiance to the 
 sun. Why should it be the sun ? Why was it not 
 the earth? Surely this was the proper seat of 
 authority where the Queen was, and the Houses 
 of Parliament, and parents, an;! policemen, and 
 lecturers ? 
 
 The lecturer said that the stars existed by millions, 
 and many were gigantically larger than this little 
 globe of ours. Our little globe was as invisible to 
 millions of bigger globes as they were to us. The 
 nebulous mass of powdery light which we, in our poor 
 intelligence, could liken only to fluid from the cow, 
 calling it the Milky Way, was really composed of 
 immense stars too ! 
 
 Of course we did not know for certain, said the 
 lecturer, but it was reasonable to assume that count- 
 less other celestial orbs were inhabited. It was 
 unreasonable to suppose that our little globe possessed 
 the only living creatures in the universe. As to how
 
 ASTRONOMY 59 
 
 they were inhabited, no one could say ; whether there 
 were men and women like ourselves, and animals 
 like our horses and dogs, or some wholly different 
 form of life. Possibly also life elsewhere was at once 
 more wonderful and much longer : the paltry three 
 score years and ten vouchsafed to us might elsewhere 
 be enormously surpassed. It was unlikely that 
 civilization had progressed on parallel lines with 
 ours ; unlikely that they had books and papers and 
 cricket matches and so forth ; but we must remember 
 that even we, with all our boasted cleverness, had 
 known of printing only for a very few generations. 
 We were still in our infancy. 
 
 In our infancy ! How small it made Rudd feel ! 
 How trumpery everything became! He seemed to 
 be shrivelling. And those sparrows of his mother's 
 again troubled him. The question, How would God 
 really have time to notice the death of English 
 sparrows with all this other work on hand ? beat 
 at his little brain. 
 
 Somehow he came to think of the lecturer and 
 God as one. God also had a white beard. God also 
 would alarm an audience. Rudd was frightened to 
 the core. 
 
 Long after this he used to lie awake trying to 
 fathom space : projecting his thoughts beyond the 
 ultimate star to what? A choking sense of black 
 nothingness was his only reward. " No more nothing, 
 no more nothing," he would murmur in terror.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE BLACK CAT 
 
 RUDD, like most children, had been brought up 
 to believe in the profound amiability of the 
 animal kingdom, at any rate in England. That 
 spiders entrap flies, he was aware; but this weakness 
 was palliated by the fact, gathered from Eliza Cook's 
 ballad, that on one occasion at any rate a spider had 
 heartened a king, while Sarah had demonstrated the 
 value of a spider's web to staunch the blood from a 
 small boy's cut finger. For the rest, he thanked the 
 pretty cow that made pleasant milk to soak his bread, 
 and loved little pussy because her coat was so warm, 
 and generally believed as the young are taught to. 
 That Nature is red in tooth and claw he had to learn 
 for himself. 
 
 And then came a Sunday morning in high summer 
 when Rudd was sitting with a story-book under the 
 hedge of one of Mr. Hoadley's meadows. He had 
 been let off church, and was gloriously lost in the 
 adventures of Humphrey in TJte Children of the New 
 Forest. 
 
 Suddenly he was conscious of shrill cries and 
 
 60
 
 THE BLACK CAT 61 
 
 squeaks, and looking up he saw the farmer's black 
 cat being attacked by two birds. In its mouth was 
 something that struggled and cried a young 
 partridge. Other young partridges moved about 
 behind their distressed and angry parents. 
 
 The cat steadily backed away from its assailants 
 and disappeared into the ditch, from which came 
 piteous little noises which gradually ceased. The 
 young partridge was being devoured. 
 
 Rudd watched the old birds, fascinated. They 
 were so brave and so perplexed, their little brains 
 seeming to be capable only of appreciating the 
 outrage without planning escape. 
 
 Humphrey's purchase of gunpowder and shot and 
 provisions at Lymington was nothing compared with 
 this actual drama. 
 
 After a few minutes the cat emerged again from 
 the ditch and very stealthily approached the birds 
 once more. It crept along, almost on its stomach, 
 but with a waving tail. It was terrible. 
 
 The old birds, who ought to have been employing 
 all the time during which the cat was busy eating in 
 stampeding to a distant spot, ran towards it with 
 open beaks and long necks. They did not actually 
 touch the cat, nor did the cat dare to touch them ; 
 but they conquered. For a while the cat paused 
 irresolute, and then it slowly retreated, stopped to 
 think, and at last walked off in the opposite direc- 
 tion, towards the place where Rudd was sitting; 
 while the partridges, gathering their brood about
 
 62 LANDMARKS 
 
 them and stationing themselves one at each end of 
 it, began to consider the advisability of moving 
 farther from danger that is, if a covey of young 
 things like that can ever be really out of danger 
 with so many predatory creatures around them. The 
 wonder is that any are left for the gun at all. 
 
 The cat came slowly along the hedge towards 
 Rudd, and all the birds in the branches above 
 uttered cries of warning. One bird did more: it 
 flew round and round only a yard or so out of reach 
 chirping loudly. Why it should so be courting peril 
 Rudd could not think ; but suddenly he learned only 
 too well, for from the grass two tiny wings fluttered up. 
 The cat gave a spring and another victim was in 
 its jaws. All unexpected too what a red letter 
 Sunday morning for it ! 
 
 Then Rudd realized that this little bird had but 
 just left the nest, and was learning to fly. A 
 favourite nursery poem 
 
 " Birdie, stay a little longer, 
 Till the little wings are stronger," 
 
 came to his mind. That had always seemed to him 
 pathetic, but never so much as now. He sprang 
 up and flung The Children of the New Forest at the 
 cat, but though frightened it did not drop its prey, 
 but leaping over the tufts of grass, now and then 
 pausing to look back at Rudd with hateful yellow 
 eyes, it disappeared. 
 
 The beautiful June morning became grey. There
 
 THE BLACK CAT 63 
 
 was no sound save the piteous bewildered notes of 
 the mother bird, the church bells ringing noisily, and 
 the sobs of a small boy. 
 
 Rudd did much thinking for the rest of that morn- 
 ing, and Captain Marryatt had no further chance 
 with him. At lunch he astonished Sarah and nearly 
 choked Mr. Hoadley by asking if he might be 
 excused from eating any roast beef and have only 
 Yorkshire pudding and potatoes, and going on to 
 explain, in reply to a torrent of questions, that he 
 was not ill, but he wanted in future to be a 
 vegetarian. 
 
 " That's a good 'un," said Mr. Hoadley. " Why, 
 your teeth will all drop out." 
 
 " Why ? " Rudd asked in alarm. 
 
 "Because it's only biting good meat that keeps 
 them in," said the farmer. " That's what they're for 
 meat. If we were meant to eat nothing but vegetables 
 we should have been given only gums." 
 
 Rudd looked inquiringly at Sarah. Was that so? 
 
 Sarah confirmed every word of it. " But why do 
 you want to be a vegetarian ? " she asked. 
 
 " Eating animals is so cruel," Rudd said. 
 
 " Then of course you won't be going with me to 
 market to-morrow," remarked Mr. Hoadley. 
 
 " Me not going ? " Rudd answered with surprise and 
 misgiving. 
 
 " How could you bring yourself to take part in 
 selling beasts for folks to eat ? " was the Socratic 
 reply.
 
 64 LANDMARKS 
 
 Rudd felt that he was up against more complexity 
 than the situation had seemed capable of holding, and 
 he consented to eat a slice of beef after all. 
 
 But nothing would induce him to stroke the black 
 cat again.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 UNCLE BEN'S PHRASE 
 
 IT is not only perfumes, such as that of lilac, and 
 wallflowers, and lilies of the valley, and wild 
 thyme on the hot hills, and rubbish fires: it is not 
 only sights, such as sunsets and foreign market- 
 places, that abide in the memory, unexpectedly and 
 poignantly to revivify the past. It is often sentences 
 too ; but whereas sights and scents are retrospective, 
 a sentence can construct and reconcile. No one that 
 Rudd knew used so many of these memorable phrases 
 as Uncle Ben, but one in particular established itself 
 in the boy's brain. 
 
 Uncle Ben was spending a night at the Sergisons' 
 when Rudd was ten or eleven. 
 
 Uncle Ben was his especial idol, not only because 
 he was keen and sympathetic and full of fun, which 
 Mr. Sergison had never been, but because he alone 
 talked to Rudd as if Rudd was not a child. Rudd 
 was so tired of the grown-ups who descended to him : 
 who called him Little Man, and wished to be taken 
 to the drawing-room door to see by the record kept 
 on the edge of it how much he had grown since they 
 5
 
 66 LANDMARKS 
 
 were there last : who asked what he collected, and 
 submitted problems about a herring and a half. 
 
 They were kind, he knew, and they brought cho- 
 colates and sixpences; but they carried things no 
 further. Also they had no memories. They said the 
 same thing every time, as if the year had done as 
 little for him as for themselves. 
 
 Uncle Ben was not like this. When Uncle Ben 
 talked to Rudd he made no difference in his voice or 
 his words. Sometimes he even said " damn," but he 
 said it so rightly, as if it were the only word, and with 
 such rich heartiness, that even if he had not been 
 Mrs. Sergison's favourite brother she would hardly 
 have protested. 
 
 It is true that when she went up to say good-night 
 to Rudd and give him those last kisses, she sometimes 
 warned him that he must not think that because 
 Uncle Ben could use such words, Rudd had a right to 
 also. But Rudd knew that he hadn't. 
 
 Uncle Ben always brought Rudd a present ; but it 
 was not like those others. It was something that he 
 would appreciate a little now, and grow to appreciate 
 much more, instead of growing out of. It was Uncle 
 Ben who gave him Pickwick when he was six, and 
 David Copperfield when he was seven, and Thomas 
 Edwards, the Scotch Naturalist, when he was eight, 
 and The Ingoldsby Legends when he was nine, and 
 The Three Musketeers when he was ten. 
 
 Uncle Ben also gave him his star map, which by 
 some movable contrivance told him what stars were
 
 UNCLE BEN'S PHRASE 67 
 
 to be seen every night in the year, and his map mea- 
 surer, and his great box of pastels. 
 
 Uncle Ben gave him also little pictures for his 
 room not the coloured soap pictures, or puppies and 
 kittens from Christmas numbers, but beautiful faces 
 after drawings by Leonardo and Raphael, and Durer's 
 " White Horse " and " St. Jerome " and even the 
 " Melancolia," and Uncle Ben's own favourite Charles 
 Keenes cut from old Punches to be pasted on a screen 
 by Rudd himself. 
 
 Uncle Ben brought more life into the house on his 
 infrequent and very brief visits than crept in during 
 the whole year. For he could play on the piano any- 
 thing that he had heard, and the only fault that Rudd 
 had to find with him was that after sitting down to 
 tell them what the latest comic song in London was 
 like, he would succumb to the opportunity of making 
 melody of his own, and pass off into melancholy 
 improvisations, and so for far too long be lost to any 
 outside influence. Uncle Ben's improvisations not 
 only had no interest for Rudd, but were simply 
 robbing them all of the precious time in which he 
 might be relating, with infinite spirit and monstrous 
 exaggeration, some of his new adventures ; for 
 Uncle Ben had adventures as other persons have 
 disappointments. 
 
 Rudd's greatest joy of all was to walk out alone 
 with this magical uncle. They always went first to 
 an ancient part of the town known as the Alleys, 
 where the old curiosity dealers congregated, and here
 
 68 LANDMARKS 
 
 they would first examine the windows, and Uncle 
 Ben would explain what everything was and where 
 it probably came from, and then they would go in, 
 and although he almost never bought anything, in a 
 few moments he and the dealer became as brothers. 
 
 And all the time they were walking, Uncle Ben 
 would be unfolding his busy impressionistic mind to 
 Rudd exactly as to a friend of long standing : drawing 
 his attention to a girl's prettiness, or the rich colours of 
 a fruiterer's window, or the still pearl-grey of the sea, or 
 a man-of-war on the horizon, or an especially good 
 horse. He seemed to see everything, and always to 
 find something which communicated a pleasure which 
 he in his turn must communicate to another. That, 
 perhaps, was Uncle Ben's most remarkable quality : 
 the desire to share whatever he enjoyed. 
 
 On this particular visit Uncle Ben had been telling 
 a story of an employee who had robbed him. For 
 some time there had been leakages of money ; every 
 one had been questioned, but to no effect ; and then 
 at last presumptive evidence had been forthcoming, 
 and the culprit had absconded. 
 
 Uncle Ben went at once to the man's house and 
 found his wife and family. They were in great dis- 
 tress, for the wife had had a serious operation and 
 a long illness, and all the money was gone. The 
 thefts, of which she had known nothing, had been to 
 keep the home together. Then the wretched father, 
 leaving the last contribution and a confession behind 
 him, had disappeared.
 
 UNCLE BEN'S PHRASE 69 
 
 " But why didn't he come to me ? " Uncle Ben had 
 said. 
 
 " Ah, if he only had ! " replied the wretched wife. 
 
 " We must get him back," said Uncle Ben. " No- 
 body need know the worst." 
 
 Then followed an amusing account of their efforts 
 to trace him : advertisements in the papers, so 
 wrapped up, for fear of giving too much away to the 
 outer world, as to be unintelligible even to the run- 
 away himself; a private detective, and all the trouble 
 that it was to make him understand that the husband 
 when found must never suspect that he was required 
 by the law ; the suppression of the real facts of the 
 case at the office ; and so forth. 
 
 And at last came the discovery of the man, in a 
 false beard, close to his own house, having haunted 
 the neighbourhood to waylay his children and discover 
 how their mother was. 
 
 In the end Uncle Ben had taken him back. 
 
 " Very humane of you, I'm sure," said Mr. Sergison, 
 " but very unwise." 
 
 " Not at all, my dear Tom," said Uncle Ben ; " very 
 astute of me, as a matter of fact, because if there is 
 one man in my employ who, 1 know for an absolute 
 certainty, will never either rob me or do anything but 
 guard my interests, it is this one. Many a man," he 
 added, " has to go wrong before he can go right."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 MR. DIMSDALE 
 
 RUDD had been at his first boarding-school 
 only a few weeks when one of the masters, 
 Mr. Dimsdale, succumbed to pneumonia. 
 
 Every one knew that Mr. Dimsdale was ill, but it 
 came as a shock to hear that he had died in the 
 night. The blinds were pulled down ; breakfast was 
 eaten by gaslight and almost in silence ; there were 
 no games that day. Now and then a boy would 
 forget, and would shout or laugh, and then suddenly 
 he would remember and freeze into quietude again. 
 The classes were subdued also, and the masters 
 wore black ties. 
 
 Then, the next day, the whole school was 
 assembled, and the head master informed them that 
 he wished them all to take a last look at their late 
 friend. 
 
 They must not, he said, be frightened. There was 
 nothing about death that was frightening; it was 
 merely a phase : Mr. Dimsdale had passed on, that 
 was all. To what life he had passed, no one knew : 
 none had returned from the grave to tell ; but he,
 
 MR. DIMSDALE 71 
 
 the speaker, for one, was confident that it was to 
 a finer and more beautiful existence. 
 
 He now proposed, he said, to lead the boys, in 
 small companies, through the death chamber. 
 
 There was a rustle of alarm when he had finished. 
 Such a proceeding was by no means to every one's 
 mind. They were sorry for Mr. Dimsdale, who had 
 been sympathetic and sporting; but to have to see 
 his dead body . . . ! Vaguely they felt that this was 
 not in the curriculum, and one boy openly remarked, 
 when the first party had left, that he was sure his 
 pater would be jolly stuffy about it a statement 
 which led to a series of similar avowals, with mater 
 here and there substituted as the jolly stuffy 
 one. 
 
 Still, the head master was not to be denied, except 
 by two or three smaller boys, who at once began 
 to cry bitterly and were led away. Rudd envied 
 them, but was unable to emulate. Not that he was 
 not afraid, but his fear of public disgrace, should he 
 thus break down, was greater. It is often the real 
 heroes who run away, but how was he, at his age, to 
 know that ? 
 
 After a few minutes' absence the first party 
 returned, very depressed in deportment, and some 
 with red eyes. To every one's dismay, Ebbets, the 
 captain of the eleven and a giant of a boy, was 
 openly sobbing, his efforts to disguise his emotion 
 leading to gasping gurgles that did anything but 
 reassure the others. The result was that a few more
 
 72 LANDMARKS 
 
 fell out and were excused ; but still not the cowardly 
 Rudd. 
 
 At last came his turn to visit the room. They 
 all walked in silence to the dreadful door, and there 
 the silence became almost tangible. 
 
 Mr. Dimsdale was in his coffin ; terribly still and 
 waxen. He was dressed in a night-shirt, and his 
 hands were placed across his chest. He had been 
 a clean-shaved man, but was now stubbly. His eyes 
 were closed. Had they been open Rudd would have 
 bolted. He felt sure of that. 
 
 When all the boys were in the room the head 
 master made a few remarks about the beauty of 
 death. How purifying it was, how serene. He 
 lifted up one of Mr. Dimsdale's hands for them to 
 see its delicacy and whiteness. He held a candle 
 behind it to illustrate its transparency. 
 
 " You see," he said finally, " there's nothing to be 
 afraid of." 
 
 But Rudd knew better. There was everything to 
 be afraid of, because it was death, and death was 
 the negation of life. Death was horrible. First, 
 ceasing to be ; then, this cold marble state ; and 
 then, the coffin, and the hammering of the nails, and 
 the lowering into the dark earth. And then . . . 
 
 Had Rudd not seen Mr. Dimsdale's actual lifeless 
 body, the funeral, a day or so after, would have been 
 little more than a piece of gloomy ritual ; but as it 
 was, it was the definitive burial beneath the ground of 
 a white, fixed, stubbly face and semi-transparent hands.
 
 MR. DIMSDALE 73 
 
 Every time Rudd walked by the cemetery, which 
 was near the school, after this, he saw Mr. Dimsdale 
 lying face upwards in his coffin under the earth. 
 For months he dreamed of him; for months he 
 passed the door of the bedroom at a run. 
 
 Mr. Dimsdale thereafter fixed the type of all 
 corpses. Mr. Dimsdale lay in every passing hearse. 
 Rudd had but to hear that some one was dead, and 
 Mr. Dimsdale's inflexible lines sprang to mind. One 
 day he too would lie like that.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 LIES: BASE AND SPLENDID 
 
 r I ^HERE was a boy at Rudd's school named 
 JL Keast. He was rather stupid and slow ; very 
 plain, with that kind of red coarse plainness which 
 never grows into attractiveness ; untidy, grubby. 
 Hence, although he had fine true eyes (a feature, 
 however, of which schoolboys know nothing), he be- 
 came a butt, and Rudd, who could be an ingenious 
 tease, never hesitated to pull his leg and get a rise 
 out of him. Being very good-natured, Keast took 
 this all in good part : disappointingly so, in fact. It 
 was Rudd who had called him Gargoyle, a name 
 which gave great delight to those of his schoolfellows 
 who knew enough about architecture. 
 
 Mr. Pollitt, the mathematical master, had a special 
 form of imposition for boys who misbehaved. Instead 
 of lines, he set them sums which had not only to be 
 done within the time allotted usually a half-holiday 
 but had also to be correct. In order that they 
 should be correct, Mr. Pollitt (whom the boys 
 naturally called Jumbo, for this was at a time in Eng- 
 land's history when anyone who was fat, or indeed
 
 LIES: BASE AND SPLENDID 75 
 
 anyone who was merely plumper than his neighbours, 
 automatically acquired that nickname) Mr. Pollitt 
 had instituted a system peculiar to himself. Each 
 boy with an imposition had to find another boy to 
 check it before it was brought up. 
 
 This may be thought an unfair plan, since it in- 
 volved as the associate of a guilty boy an innocent 
 one, but there was some sense in it too, for the 
 difficulty of finding a free-born Briton, conscious of 
 rectitude, to give up his time to one who had really 
 deserved punishment, not only was considerable, but 
 it conferred a distasteful unpopularity on the searcher : 
 one of the reasons being that if, after this outside 
 corroboration, there should happen to be an error in 
 the sum or problem (or rather, if Jumbo detected it, 
 for often enough he merely glanced at it and justice 
 was satisfied), the virtuous ally was punished as 
 severely as though he had been the original sinner. 
 Thus did Jumbo strive for the efficiency of his pupils 
 both in season and out; for the knowledge of the 
 risks, and the natural dislike of a boy to get another 
 boy into trouble, all worked towards zeal and mathe- 
 matical righteousness. 
 
 It happened, however, that with the arrival of the 
 homely and otherwise clumsy and inept Keast much 
 of this improvement vanished, for Keast was a first- 
 class arithmetician, and he was so amenable to any 
 malefactor's beck and call that at the time of Rudd's 
 entry into the class impositions had become common 
 again.
 
 76 LANDMARKS 
 
 So much explanation is necessary to make clear 
 that which follows. 
 
 Rudd had been mathematically remiss, and was 
 set a punitive task. This he postponed doing till the 
 last minute, as it presented few difficulties; and he 
 then dashed it off and took it straight to Jumbo 
 without thinking it necessary to seek the usual rati- 
 fication. It was too simple for a mistake to have 
 crept in, and Rudd knew himself to be no fool. 
 
 Jumbo glanced at the paper, and was handing it 
 back, when a figure seemed to strike him. He 
 examined it carefully, and Rudd changed feet. 
 
 " I thought you all understood that these sums 
 must be checked before I see them?" he said. 
 
 "Yes," said Rudd as boldly as he could. 
 
 " Then why didn't you get some one to check this ? " 
 Jumbo, who seemed to be in a bad temper, glared 
 sternly. 
 
 What was Rudd to do ? He was not normally 
 dishonest nor out of the way cowardly, but it was 
 absurd to let the man think he had omitted such a 
 necessary precaution as that. 
 
 He temporized. " Surely it's not wrong, sir ? " he 
 said. 
 
 " It is wrong," Mr. Pollitt replied. " I want to 
 know why ? Didn't you have it checked ? " 
 
 Here was Rudd's chance ; but he missed it. 
 
 " Yes, sir," he said. 
 
 " Who checked it ? " 
 
 " Keast, sir," said Rudd, on an inspiration; and
 
 LIES: BASE AND SPLENDID 77 
 
 instantly he saw the necessity of intercepting old 
 Gargoyle as quickly as possible and squaring him. 
 
 " Keast ? " Mr. Pollitt asked in surprise. 
 
 " Yes," Rudd replied, adding as a brilliant after- 
 thought, in palliation of Keast's defective work as a 
 supervisor, " but he had to do it against time. I 
 didn't ask him till just as the bell rang." 
 
 " Rayner," said Mr. Pollitt, talking to another boy, 
 " go and find Keast and bring him to me at once. 
 You stay here," he said to Rudd, and resumed the 
 book he was reading. 
 
 Rudd felt the perspiration working out all over him. 
 His knees shook. His heart beat 500 to the minute. 
 His blood turned cold. He stood at the desk in 
 an agony. What an infernal ass he had been ! 
 What an insanely silly lie to have told, and more 
 be found out over! How could he have been so 
 idiotic ; and the worst of it was that he couldn't con- 
 fess now, it would make it all too gratuitous. 
 
 What would Jumbo say if he did ? Rudd wondered. 
 Jumbo had never been very keen about him, but he 
 would be fearfully surprised to find him such a sneak- 
 ing little beast as this. It would spoil everything 
 afterwards. No more fun. A lie to save oneself was 
 all right, comparatively, but a lie involving another 
 chap that was too low. 
 
 It was such a jolly day too, and he was looking 
 forward to the half-holiday and a long walk, and 
 then this rotten thing happened without any warning. 
 
 Jumbo did not look up. He read steadily.
 
 78 LANDMARKS 
 
 And what about Gargoyle ? Rudd wondered. 
 Would he play the game and back up Rudd's lie? 
 It was asking an awful lot of a chap, especially one 
 whom Rudd himself had nicknamed after his ugli- 
 ness and baited so often. Keast was a decent fellow, 
 but why should he sacrifice himself for Rudd ? Besides, 
 he might be too unprepared to lie properly. It all 
 depended on two things : one being how much Rayner 
 had told him, and the other the form of Jumbo's first 
 question to him on his arrival. Rudd was very doubt- 
 ful if Rayner had heard enough to explain the situa- 
 tion rightly. Rayner was one of those silly asses who 
 never notice what's going on. 
 
 Jumbo never lifted his eyes from his book. 
 
 Then a terrible chilling possibility occurred to 
 Rudd. Suppose Keast did not understand the 
 situation, or did not play the game, and denied it, 
 would Rudd go on affirming it? His heart now 
 stood absolutely still for a moment. Could he be 
 so vile as to do that ? Could he ? How true it was, 
 as some one has said, that the bother of lying is that 
 one lie leads to another ! Was ever anyone in such 
 a ghastly mess ? 
 
 Jumbo went on reading. 
 
 Rudd heard nothing but the pulse in his throat. 
 Now and then shouts came in at the window from 
 the playground, to accentuate his misery. No more 
 of that happiness for him ; his life was poisoned. 
 
 At last there]|was a scamper on the stairs, and 
 Rudd prepared for the worst.
 
 LIES: BASE AND SPLENDID 79 
 
 But it was Rayner alone. Rudd breathed again. 
 
 " Please, sir," Rayner said, " I can't find Keast 
 anywhere. Dawson thinks he went into the town for 
 Mr. Ramsay." 
 
 Rudd returned to real life again. The axe was 
 lifted from his neck. 
 
 "Very well," said Mr. Pollitt to Rayner. "See 
 that Keast comes to me directly he returns. You 
 may go," he added to Rudd. 
 
 Rudd's wish was to leave the room like lightning ; 
 but he mustered enough duplicity to visit his desk 
 first with a laggard step. 
 
 Once outside the door he flew. At any cost he 
 must get hold of Keast before anyone else did. He 
 made certain that Keast had gone to the town, and 
 then he waited by the gate in an agony. Never had he 
 undergone such torture. He knew for the first time 
 what it was to despise himself. If only this lie could 
 be hidden he would never lie again. It wasn't the 
 punishment that he feared now, it was the loss of his 
 good name. 
 
 Suddenly he saw Keast sauntering back. Keast 
 grinned as he recognized Rudd at the gate. 
 
 " Not waiting for me ? " he asked half anxiously, 
 for any attention to him usually preceded some joke 
 or mischief. 
 
 " Yes," said Rudd, " I've been waiting for you for 
 ages. It's frightfully important." 
 
 Keast looked astonishment. " No larks ? " he 
 said.
 
 8o LANDMARKS 
 
 " No," said Rudd. " It's a matter of life or death 
 for me and no one can help me but you." 
 
 Upon Keast's twisted features perplexity was 
 written. 
 
 " No larks ? " he said again. 
 
 " I swear," said Rudd. " Look here," and he drew 
 him behind the wall " I've done a beastly mean thing, 
 and you are the only soul who can help me out. 
 That's if you will. I had an imposition from Jumbo 
 and I didn't get it checked. It looked all right, you 
 see. Very well : it was wrong ; there was some rotten 
 mistake in it ; and when he asked me who checked it, 
 I said I said well, I said you." 
 
 Rudd searched Keast's face. Keast said nothing. 
 
 " It was absolutely rotten of me, I know," said 
 Rudd, "but I was taken all by surprise and never 
 properly thought." 
 
 Keast said nothing. 
 
 " Will you back me up ?" Rudd asked after a few 
 moments' silence. 
 
 Rudd never forgot this scene. He could reconstruct 
 it in the small hours of the night ever afterwards and 
 feel again the shame of it and the suspense. 
 
 Keast did not answer at once. He was looking 
 at Rudd with astonishment; studying him like a 
 naturalist. 
 
 " You did that ? " he said at last. 
 
 " It was rotten, vile," Rudd said ; " I know that. 
 But I lost my head. Just tell me if you'll back 
 me up ? " he asked again imploringly. " I made it a
 
 LIES : BASE AND SPLENDID 81 
 
 little bit easy for you. I said I didn't give you 
 enough time to be thorough because the bell rang 
 just as I took it to you." 
 
 " You do think of things ! " Keast said. 
 
 Rudd groaned. " It's awful," he said. " I didn't 
 know I was as bad as that. Will you? will you? 
 Just say, and I'll know what to do, because I'm 
 going to get it over one way or the other." 
 
 Keast fumbled with his hands. " I hate lying," he 
 said. " I promised . I hate lying, anyway." 
 
 " I'm sorry I asked you," Rudd said. " I see. I'll 
 go and tell Jumbo the whole rotten truth." 
 
 " Wait a minute," said Keast. " I hate lying, and 
 I didn't want ever to do any. But . . . Oh, look here, 
 that'll be all right. Don't you worry. Of course I'll 
 stand by you." 
 
 " I don't know why you should," Rudd said simply. 
 
 " As for that," said Keast" Oh, let's get it over ! " 
 
 At that moment Rayner appeared. " Hullo, 
 Gargoyle ! " he said. (Rudd winced.) " I've been 
 hunting for you everywhere. Jumbo wants you. I 
 don't know what for, but he's in a stew anyway." 
 
 " Now ? " Keast asked. 
 
 " Yes," said Rayner. " I've got to lead you to him." 
 
 " I'll come too," said Rudd. 
 
 They filed off in silence. 
 
 " Oh, here you are," said Mr. Pollitt. " Is it true, 
 Keast, that you checked these sums ? " 
 
 Rudd had another bad moment, but as a matter of 
 fact he had lost interest in his escape. It was Keast of 
 6
 
 82 LANDMARKS 
 
 whom he was thinking now the difference between 
 this despised creature and himself with his superior airs. 
 
 " Yes," said Keast 
 
 " But what on earth's the matter with you ? " Mr. 
 Pollitt asked. " How could you let such a bloomer 
 as this pass ?" 
 
 " I suppose I was a bit slack about it," said Keast. 
 
 " I'm afraid you must pay for that slackness," said 
 Mr. Pollitt, and named a task. " By rights SergSson 
 ought to do another too, since he got this one wrong, 
 but logically the fault was yours, so he may consider 
 himself free." 
 
 " I'd like to do another," said Rudd. 
 
 " There'll be plenty of opportunity later, I fear," 
 said Jumbo. " Now you can go." 
 
 Rudd had expected to feel as if a mountain had 
 rolled from his back, but instead he was conscious of 
 a bigger one. He knew himself to be a cad and 
 more than that, a cad who had masqueraded as a 
 gentleman and was now in the presence of a gentle- 
 man whom he had been wont to treat with contempt. 
 
 It was in Rudd's mind to tell Keast he was sorry 
 about his past teasing, and to promise amendment 
 for the future, and he even had his fingers on his 
 chief possession, a silver fountain pen, as a gift to 
 him, but his tongue refused to help. None of these 
 things seemed to be quite decent. 
 
 At last he said, " Keast, you're a brick." 
 
 " It's all right," said Keast. " Let's forget it." 
 
 But Rudd never did.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 SHOWING HOW ONE WHO SHOULD MUCH 
 LONGER HAVE RETAINED HIS DIVINITY 
 LOST IT 
 
 RUDD and his father had maintained easy 
 relations, without idolizing on the boy's part or 
 any rapture of affection on the man's. Rudd took it 
 for granted that his father was above criticism. He 
 had never set him either on a pinnacle or beneath the 
 microscope ; he was his father, the head of the house, 
 the dictator, the payer of rent, the provider of in- 
 sufficient pocket-money. 
 
 When other boys framed indictments of their 
 governors (as some boys will) Rudd listened with 
 surprise and turned away in distaste. But equally 
 when other boys bragged about their governors (also 
 occasionally a boyish habit), their position, power, 
 prowess or generosity, Rudd took little interest. He 
 had no particular fault to find with Mr. Sergison and 
 no particular praise for him. Just as abuse of one's 
 pater offended him, so did exaltation of one's pater 
 seem a bit of a howler. 
 
 Rudd had never asked himself how much affection
 
 84 LANDMARKS 
 
 he felt for his father. His mother he could love 
 achingly : after hurting or disappointing her by some 
 thoughtlessness or misdemeanour, he had sobbed and 
 suffered secretly for hours, and again, retrospectively, 
 on returning to school. But his feelings for his father 
 he took for granted. He was filial. 
 
 When Mr. Sergison had complained of the tough- 
 ness of the beef (as he often did, having an incurable 
 aversion from the dentist), and had even left the 
 dinner-table as a protest, Rudd had merely assumed 
 that that was as it should be ; that it was all in the 
 paternal part. Fathers have the right to kick up a 
 row. It is possibly even their duty to lose their 
 tempers : just as it is the duty of mothers to keep 
 theirs and smilingly accept a responsibility which 
 belonged, as a stricter logician than Mr. Sergison 
 would think, to the ox, the butcher, the cook, or 
 to God. That was Rudd's inarticulate view of the 
 matter. 
 
 And as a matter of fact there was not much 
 trouble in the Sergison household. Things went 
 fairly smoothly : Mr. Sergison was never contradicted 
 except by a visitor or guest, and gradually the 
 visitors and guests who came to the house had been 
 subjected to so thorough a process of selection (as in 
 so many other houses) that the contradictors had all 
 been weeded out and Sir Oracle barked without 
 demur. By carefully choosing one's company one 
 can easily be the best man in it; and this Mr. 
 Sergison subconsciously knew. His wife's brothers,
 
 LOST DIVINITY 85 
 
 Rudd's uncles, were the only real danger ; but they 
 came seldom, or only when they heard from their 
 sister that her husband was away. 
 
 Not that Mr. Sergison was much of a bully or a 
 dogmatist. But he liked his own way, and having 
 made his fortune unaided, and retired, he thought he 
 had earned the right to get it. Mrs. Sergison and 
 Rudd tacitly agreed. 
 
 Mr. Sergison was a short, florid, well-dressed man 
 with a fierce moustache. He talked well and laughed 
 loudly. He was heartiest when people were leaving. 
 
 The most surprising thing about him was that he 
 was a Liberal. Asked to what party he belonged, 
 nineteen out of every twenty strangers, looking at 
 him, would have said Tory. But he was a very keen 
 Liberal indeed. Not that his politics were ever 
 statesmanship ; he was not constructive, and if it had 
 not been for the Daily News' leading articles he would 
 often have had little enough to say. His politics, in 
 short, were at bottom not politics at all, but partisan- 
 ship, prejudice. A devout and incorrigibly loyal hero- 
 worshipper, he had come early under the spell of a 
 great Liberal and had never wavered. 
 
 Mr. Sergison got up late, read the papers very 
 thoroughly, purring over the Daily News and snarling 
 over the Times; spent much time actively in the 
 garden, from which he extracted periodical attacks 
 of lumbago ; visited his club after lunch ; returned 
 for tea and such letter-writing as he did ; and read 
 books of travel at night after dinner. He interested
 
 86 LANDMARKS 
 
 himself in local affairs to some extent, and was 
 on various committees. Now and then he took 
 the chair at a meeting, being quite a fair speaker; 
 now and then he entertained a Liberal orator ; now 
 and then he and Mrs. Sergison dined out or gave a 
 modest dinner-party. 
 
 With Rudd Mr. Sergison was patronizing and 
 bland, with a tincture of irony. Rudd did not irritate 
 him, as some boys do their fathers ; and his manner 
 did not offend Rudd, who knew no other. As I say, 
 their relations were easy, but neither made any effort 
 to cultivate the other. Mr. Sergison had never really 
 wanted the thrill of paternity, nor had he experienced 
 it. Rudd shared none of his father's tastes, while 
 gardening, in particular, he detested. 
 
 Having selected a school for Rudd, travelled with 
 him to it on his first term, and handed him half a 
 crown, Mr. Sergison considered that he might 
 honestly take several years off duty as an active 
 parent The rest was between the school-master 
 and Mrs. Sergison. 
 
 It was towards the middle of the term when a 
 letter from Mrs. Sergison to Rudd contained terrific 
 news : " I am rather sorry to have to tell you," she 
 wrote, " that father has been persuaded to stand for 
 Parliament at the by-election following on the death 
 of Mr. Rushton. He is, of course, highly excited 
 about it," she went on, " and I see very little of him 
 just now. I wish he had not consented, for if he gets 
 in he will find the work of Parliament very vexatious
 
 LOST DIVINITY 87 
 
 and wearing, while if he is defeated he will be em- 
 bittered, I fear, and will regret the expense." 
 
 Rudd promptly replied to the great news. 
 
 " DEAR FATHER, I am very glad you are going 
 into Parliament. Please let me come home for the 
 election. I should fearfully like to see one, and 1 
 might be able to help. Pascoe, one of the boys here, 
 whose father is member for Tryfleet, says that he was 
 out all day in a carriage bringing voters to the poll. 
 He says he would come and help us, if you liked, 
 although his father's a Conservative. He says he 
 has no bitter feelings that would prevent his experi- 
 ence being at your disposal. Anyway I hope you 
 will let me come home for a day or two. Please 
 arrange it with Mr. Stokes. Your loving son, 
 
 " R. S." 
 
 Rudd's chances of getting his way were seriously 
 jeopardized by the addition of the letters M.P. to his 
 father's name on the address, but he succeeded, 
 although no invitation to the energetic and mag- 
 nanimous Pascoe was included. 
 
 Mr. Stokes called him to his room and said that 
 in response to Mr. Sergison's desire he might go 
 home for two nights. " I could wish," he added, 
 " that your father's politics were of another colour, 
 but since it is of importance that men of weight and 
 high motives should from time to time leaven the 
 Liberal ranks you can give him my cordial wishes 
 for his success." 
 
 Pascoe accompanied Rudd to the station and gave
 
 88 LANDMARKS 
 
 him some last words of counsel. " Don't forget," he 
 said, "that your governor must kiss some babies, 
 like the man in Pickwick, you know. Mine kissed 
 lots. And if he doesn't kiss them he must say he 
 never saw a kid half so fine in all his puff. He must 
 shake hands, too, with every one. Just bowing is 
 no good at all. It's a great pity I'm not going to be 
 there, I could put him up to such lots of things." 
 
 Rudd's cab had not proceeded twenty yards into 
 Caston before a poster came in sight with "VOTE 
 FOR SERGISON " on it in huge letters. It was 
 Rudd's first experience of publicity, and it gave him 
 an odd chilly feeling. This Sergison, whose claims 
 to be supported had to be blazoned forth on vulgar 
 hoardings among music-hall and theatre advertise- 
 ments and pictures, was his father! Something 
 sacred in his home life detached itself and fell away. 
 
 And then came a ruder shock, for on the next 
 poster was Mr. Sergison's portrait, as though he was 
 a conjurer (no such luck !) or pianist. It was larger 
 than life and much coarser, and underneath it were 
 the words, "VOTE FOR SERGISON, THE MAN FOR 
 
 CASTON." 
 
 How could he allow it? Rudd wondered what his 
 mother thought of it ? 
 
 " What are Mr. Sergison's chances ? " he asked the 
 cabman. 
 
 " Not very good," he said ; " he's the wrong colour, 
 I'm thinking. They're getting to be a very Tory lot 
 here."
 
 LOST DIVINITY 89 
 
 " But the last member was Liberal, wasn't he ? " 
 Rudd asked. 
 
 " Yes, he was," said the driver ; " but he was very 
 popular, you know, and he had done so much for the 
 place. Things have changed, too, since he got in 
 last." 
 
 It was the day preceding the poll, and each candi- 
 date was to have a final meeting that night. Mean- 
 while they were making last desperate efforts to 
 influence voters ; answering questions everywhere ; 
 paying hurried calls at the various committee rooms ; 
 while each was bent upon making one final attack 
 on the employees at the great factory on the edge of 
 the town, who were numerous enough to settle the 
 result if they could be won over. 
 
 Suddenly and with a kind of shock Rudd caught a 
 glimpse of his father in the street,, and was astonished 
 to see into what a perfect candidate his tailor had 
 transformed him. Resplendent in frock-coat, white 
 waistcoat, white spats and tall hat, he was talking 
 with a radiating amiability, infrequent at home, to 
 a dirty navvy. The suggestion of deference in his 
 father's attitude stuck in Rudd's memory for years 
 after. 
 
 The house was in a muddle, the effect of excite- 
 ment and guests, and Rudd found his mother nervous 
 and restless. Gentlemen from London were staying 
 there for the night's meeting, among them a real lord. 
 That is to say, a real lord by title, but in reality a 
 younger son, a House of Commons lord; real enough,
 
 90 LANDMARKS 
 
 however, to upset an ordinary Englishman's castle, as 
 it is the nobility's privilege to do. In order that the 
 lord might have a dressing-room, Rudd must sleep on 
 a sofa in the drawing-room : an unnecessary precau- 
 tion, as it happened, for he was a casual fellow, who 
 didn't even go to the bathroom, and the condition 
 of his hair-brushes was the talk of the kitchen for 
 months after. 
 
 Mrs. Sergison looked tired and unhappy, but Rudd's 
 presence cheered her. 
 
 " Will he get in ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " I don't think so," she said. " I'm afraid he hasn't 
 done enough for the town, and the tide's against the 
 Liberals just now, I am told. For myself, I hope he 
 won't, for it will mean moving to London and every 
 kind of upset, and I am certain that he will soon hate 
 it, even if it doesn't make him ill. Hc'i too impatient 
 for the House of Commons." 
 
 Dinner was to be at half-past six sharp, on account 
 of the great meeting, and Rudd, for the first time in 
 his life, saw a row of champagne bottles in his father's 
 house. Not that Mr. Sergison was a teetotaller ; but 
 hitherto sherry, claret and port had represented the 
 utmost he had attempted for state occasions, and 
 claret alone for ordinary domestic conviviality. It 
 seemed, Mrs. Sergison explained to Rudd, that legis- 
 lators expect champagne. 
 
 " May I open one now ? " he asked, with his eyes 
 big as they rested on the golden-wired corks ; but it 
 was generally agreed that to open champagne some
 
 LOST DIVINITY 91 
 
 hours before it was needed might be a mistake. 
 The cook was certain of it ; the others thought it 
 probable. 
 
 After lunch with his mother, Rudd hurried to the 
 town to see the fun. He found the familiar streets 
 wearing a totally new air. Placards were everywhere, 
 stationary and being carried by sandwich men, each 
 defeating the other, for no one soul would vote for both 
 candidates. To have his name so exploited seemed 
 a kind of indecency to the boy. 
 
 Every now and then a shop had been turned into a 
 committee room ; and important men in ancient tall 
 hats fussed in the doorways ; carriages dashed up, 
 from which other important men in ancient tall hats 
 sprang ; small idle crowds watched. 
 
 While Rudd stood in one of these inquisitive knots, 
 a little band of important men hurried up, satellizing 
 about a quiet, gentle-looking but distinguished man 
 in a comfortable tweed suit, who smoked a long cigar. 
 It was his father's rival, Brayshaw, the enemy of the 
 house; yet strangely Rudd felt an admiration for 
 him. He couldn't help it. There was no disloyalty 
 in the feeling : simply this was the kind of swell that 
 always took his fancy, the kind of swell that he 
 himself would like to be if ever he could be a swell 
 at all. 
 
 Without being rude or superior, Mr. Brayshaw 
 obviously found the homage of the important men 
 distasteful ; but he had realized the necessity of going 
 through with it, and was behaving as well as he could.
 
 92 LANDMARKS 
 
 He disappeared with his dependants into his com- 
 mittee rooms, principally to refill two large cigar- 
 cases, and Rudd moved on with the memory of the 
 curve of his father's back as he addressed the navvy 
 too clear in his mind. Should inclusion among the 
 law-makers of England necessitate that ? 
 
 Various people recognized him, and all asked him 
 if he had a holiday to see his father get in. All his 
 short life he had noticed the tendency of grown-up 
 persons to say the same thing, but never more than 
 this afternoon. 
 
 The dinner that evening was a kind of nightmare. 
 In addition to Lord William Ruse, there were Sir 
 Victor Uglow and Mr. Loney Imms, the famous 
 Q.C., M.P. Mrs. Sergison was the only lady, and no 
 one paid her any but the most perfunctory attention. 
 As for Rudd, he was ignored completely. Mr. Sergi- 
 son was very jumpy and ate almost nothing; the 
 others ate heartily and drank accordingly. They 
 were old stagers. This, Mr. Sergison's first election, 
 was merely a detail in their routine, for they were 
 all high on the Whip's list of provincial exhorters. 
 By-election after by-election found them busily 
 haranguing. 
 
 Their talk this evening was wholly on electioneering 
 and wire-pulling, until they reached the respective 
 merits and prices of wines. Mr. Loney Imms was 
 the principal talker, as he spoke wagging his finger 
 for greater emphasis. He seemed to think the others 
 were the jury, and now and then he fixed Rudd's eye,
 
 LOST DIVINITY 93 
 
 which could not help looking at him, as though he 
 was the foreman. But he said nothing to Rudd per- 
 sonally. The only one who spoke to him was Sir 
 Victor Uglow, who asked if Rugby was played at 
 his school, and on hearing that it was not, lost all 
 interest in him and it. 
 
 Rudd was to have a seat on the platform with his 
 mother and other influential supporters of the Liberal 
 cause in the town and neighbourhood ; but when Mrs. 
 Sergison begged to be excused, on account of a head- 
 ache, he said that he should sit in the body of the 
 hall, wherever he could : he had not enough courage 
 for the platform, alone. 
 
 Mr. Sergison was far too much occupied with fore- 
 thoughts of his speech to raise any objections, and 
 Rudd was therefore allowed to go off first in order to 
 get to the meeting early. 
 
 There is something about an election, even to a boy 
 ignorant of everything that elections mean, that is 
 both exciting and moving. The air is charged with 
 electricity, of which even the non-political are con- 
 ductors. As from his seat among the crowd Rudd 
 surveyed the meeting his heart beat hardly less furi- 
 ously than if his father had not been the central figure. 
 
 At first the company sang party songs, at intervals 
 an important man calling for cheers for this honoured 
 name and hisses or groans for that execrated one, all 
 of which seemed curiously crude to Rudd, who had 
 thought of schoolboys as the only practitioners of 
 such rites, and had never greatly admired them for it.
 
 94 LANDMARKS 
 
 But when the concourse on the platform at last flut- 
 tered and rose to its feet, and the band began to play 
 " See the conquering hero comes," and from the 
 advancing knot of black coats and white shirts the 
 form and features of his father emerged, Rudd's face 
 burned, and when a woman next to him stood up and 
 waved her handkerchief he longed to disappear into 
 the ground. It seemed wrong for a member of the 
 family to be present and witness the Sergison triumph 
 and hear that ghastly tune. 
 
 Every one about him, he felt, must know that he 
 was the hero's son. As a matter of fact none did ; 
 but how many years some of us have to spend in 
 this world before we realize that we are not the 
 centre of observation. 
 
 Mr. Sergison, though nervous, was neither flushed 
 nor confused. Rudd, for the first time in his life, 
 and, without putting the thought into words, thought 
 him pathetic. 
 
 Then the noise died down, the people resumed 
 their seats, and the meeting began. 
 
 The chairman first read a telegram from the 
 Prime Minister wishing Rudd's father every success 
 in his battle for the right; he then read a telegram 
 from another Minister imploring the electors of 
 Caston to return Mr. Sergison and thus once again 
 prove their loyalty to the highest principles of public 
 life and the great Liberal faith ; and next a number 
 of expressions of regret at unavoidable absence were 
 made public.
 
 LOST DIVINITY 95 
 
 The chairman then passed on to utter what he 
 promised would be only three or four sentences 
 (No, no) in praise of their candidate. (Applause.) 
 Mr. Sergison was, he said, a respected resident of their 
 great town, eager for its welfare. (Cheers.) An ideal 
 man to represent them, for, having retired from busi- 
 ness, with all its worries and exactions, he was prepared 
 to devote his whole time to the nation. (Cheers.) Of 
 course it was late in the day to introduce Mr. Sergi- 
 son to them. (Laughter.) They all knew him well 
 (cheers) but this was his own first appearance as 
 a chairman during the election, and he could not 
 deny himself the pleasure (applause) of expressing 
 his own high esteem of their candidate. (Renewed 
 applause.) 
 
 That evening, he would add, they were peculi- 
 arly fortunate, for not only was Mr. Sergison 
 among them (applause) but on the platform beside 
 him were three such doughty warriors in the cause 
 of Liberalism (loud cheers) such tried and trusted 
 comrades in their ranks (cheers) always in the 
 very forefront of the fighting line (renewed cheers) 
 as Lord William Ruse, M.P. (cheers) Sir Victor 
 Uglow, M.P. (cheers) and Mr. Loney Imms, Q.C., 
 M.P. (Cheers.) 
 
 He did not know what type of tub-thumper was 
 regaling the rival meeting that evening with rancid 
 eloquence (laughter) and specious promises (re- 
 newed laughter) but he would venture to wager 
 (applause) that they had nothing there comparable
 
 96 LANDMARKS 
 
 with the rhetorical and intellectual treat in store for 
 this audience. (Cheers.) He would now make way 
 for Mr. Sergison. (Loud cheers.) 
 
 Rudd had been uncomfortable enough during the 
 foregoing remarks, but when, as Mr. Sergison pre- 
 pared to rise, amid great enthusiasm, a big man in 
 the gallery started singing " For he's a jolly good 
 fellow," which the audience gradually took up, Rudd, 
 his cheeks flaming more violently than before, realized 
 that he could stand it no longer. 
 
 Nothing the conviction had been growing within 
 him could make him listen to his father's speech. 
 He had long been meditating flight, but this final 
 outburst settled it. It was a public-house song. It 
 had no bearing on politics or law-making. It meant 
 smacking people on the back and having a drink. 
 It was going to ruin everything for a man who 
 was in earnest and had been reading Hansard for 
 a month. 
 
 By dint of struggling and squeezing, Rudd got 
 out just before his father uttered his opening words. 
 
 In the street he breathed again. He looked at 
 his watch it was only twenty past eight. Should 
 he go home and comfort his mother? Yes; but 
 first (brilliant inspiration) he would look in at the 
 enemy's meeting, and see what that was like. He 
 would like also another glimpse of that fascinating 
 candidate. How would he be dressed to-night? 
 
 How would he contrast with But no, that was 
 
 not the way to think. " Poor father ! " he murmured,
 
 LOST DIVINITY 97 
 
 yet why he chose the adjective he could not have 
 explained. 
 
 The hall was packed, and the chairman was speak- 
 ing. Rudd found a loophole between two short 
 men's heads through which he could peer, and he 
 picked out Mr. Brayshaw, who, unlike Mr. Sergison, 
 was not in stiff evening dress, but wore a dinner 
 jacket and soft shirt. He looked quite at his ease 
 and again was disguising the contempt which his 
 too unctuous supporters provoked. 
 
 " What I say is this," the chairman was saying. 
 He was a powerful-voiced horse-dealer in the town, 
 possessed of great political influence among the poor. 
 " What I say is this, that we are lucky in our candi- 
 date. (Cheers.) Our candidate is a gentleman. He 
 may not live among us, but he has chosen us not 
 only for his friends (loud applause) but, as I 
 firmly hope and believe, for his constituents (terrific 
 applause) and I for one appreciate the honour to 
 the full." (Cheers.) 
 
 Rudd noticed how much more general was the 
 excitement in this meeting. 
 
 " Politics aside," the chairman continued, referring 
 to a paper, " for on them we are agreed (cheers) 
 let us see what the Liberal candidate (groans) 
 I say, let us see what the Liberal candidate (more 
 groans) has done for the town in which he lives." 
 
 Rudd's heart sank. What was coming next? he 
 apprehensively wondered, and wished he had gone 
 straight home. But he must hear it out. 
 7
 
 98 LANDMARKS 
 
 " I have here a list of the contributors to 
 various local charities and improvements," said 
 the chairman. " I will begin with the report of 
 the new recreation ground. I turn to the list of 
 subscribers, and what do I find under the letter S ? 
 I find ' Thomas Sergison, Esq., one guinea.' One 
 guinea, gentlemen ! (Scornful laughter.) Twenty-one 
 paltry shillings in order to help his poorer fellow- 
 inhabitants to a game in the open air once a 
 week!" 
 
 Rudd was horrified. If he had blushed in the 
 other meeting, it was from an attack of delicacy 
 probably quite false and to be resisted. But here 
 his blood boiled at an outrage. This was low. 
 Mr. Brayshaw ought not to allow it. Money had 
 nothing to do with legislation. He began to back 
 out. 
 
 " I turn next," the speaker relentlessly continued, 
 " to the accounts of the Cottage Hospital, and what 
 do I find ? ' Thomas Sergison, Esq., one guinea.' 
 And this is the gentleman to whom we are asked to 
 entrust our interests in Parliament, this grudging 
 subscriber to the well-being of his town ! No, gentle- 
 men, what I say is we want no curmudgeon to 
 represent us." (Loud applause.) 
 
 Above the turmoil a voice in the body of the hall 
 was heard. 
 
 " He gave another ten pounds a little while ago," 
 it shouted. 
 
 Every head turned in that direction, and Rudd
 
 LOST DIVINITY 99 
 
 felt a thrill of pride in the courage of this supporter 
 of his family honour. 
 
 But the chairman quickly extinguished it. " How 
 long ago?" he asked. 
 
 "On the 1 3th," said the man, consulting a paper. 
 
 "Yes," said the chairman with a sneer, "and it 
 was on the I2th that Mr. Sergison accepted the 
 invitation of his party to stand for Caston ! We 
 know what that ten pounds was for. It wasn't for 
 the Cottage Hospital ! (Loud cheers.) It was for 
 the seat ! " (Great excitement.) 
 
 Sicker at heart than before, Rudd, praying not 
 to be recognized, continued to squeeze his way out, 
 but it was very difficult, as he met more people 
 pressing in. 
 
 "Jear that?" one man said to another. "That's 
 the way. He's giving Sergison beans." 
 
 " I didn't know he was so mean," said another, 
 " but I did know he was a windbag. And look at 
 the way they heckled him last night. He hadn't an 
 answer." 
 
 " Please let me pass," Rudd said desperately. 
 
 But before he could get through into the sweet 
 night air he had to hear further and even more 
 damaging criticisms. 
 
 His father had never been a demi-god ; but this 
 was awful. Was it true? Anyway, ought such 
 things to be said of one's father? Was it not a 
 defect in a father to be so vulnerable to such common 
 people? Could anything like that be said of Mr.
 
 I 
 
 ioo LANDMARKS 
 
 Brayshaw ? But was Mr. Sergison so mean ? Now 
 Rudd came to think of it, lots of boys returned to 
 school with a quid and he never had had more 
 than half-a-crown. 
 
 Rudd reached home in a state of misery. His 
 mother had gone to bed and he went to sit with her. 
 
 " Why didn't you stay ? " she asked. 
 
 " I didn't like it," he said. 
 
 " Politics are very horrid," she replied with a sigh. 
 
 They held each other's hands in the firelight for a 
 long while in silence. 
 
 " Why are you so unhappy ? " Mrs. Sergison at last 
 inquired. 
 
 Bit by bit Rudd told her. 
 
 "Is it true?" he managed at last to ask, thus 
 voicing the question which she knew was in his 
 depths. 
 
 " Politics always lead to low personalities," she 
 said. 
 
 " But that ten pounds," Rudd asked, " wouldn't he 
 have given it if he hadn't thought it might be useful 
 for the election ? " 
 
 "We mustn't examine father's actions like that," 
 she said. " How I hoped he wouldn't touch the 
 thing at all ! But he has had to put himself in the 
 hands of his agent that little Mr. Quale, whom I 
 expect you saw, with the little black moustache and 
 white waistcoat and I never liked him. In politics 
 all kinds of tricks seem to be allowed tricks that I 
 hope you will always think low. Poor father! But
 
 LOST DIVINITY 101 
 
 remember that he has always been the best of fathers 
 to you. Now go to bed, dear. To-morrow will be a 
 terrific day, and we shall want all the sleep we can 
 get." 
 
 But it was long before Rudd, on the drawing-room 
 sofa, slept. He had visitations of shame that kept 
 him restless and nervous : for his father, most of all ; 
 for his mother ; for himself. In some vague way for 
 Liberalism too. A wise man would never have put 
 himself in such a position. If a man like his father 
 could afford ten pounds for a hospital in November, 
 he could have afforded it at the time he gave only 
 that miserable guinea. To a hospital, too, for poor 
 people ! Gladstone, Bright, Fawcett they wouldn't 
 have done that! 
 
 He heard carriage-wheels and the hall full of loud 
 men's voices. Lord William Ruse was laughing. 
 Then the smoking-room door banged. 
 
 Rudd was glad he had not to say good-night to 
 them. 
 
 Falling uneasily to sleep at last, he dreamed of 
 barristers with confident smiles and strong white 
 teeth, into whose cage his father and himself were 
 being thrust; and with their hot breath scorching 
 him, he woke in terror. 
 
 Mr. Sergison was defeated by a large majority, 
 and Rudd took the news back to school on the day 
 following the poll. 
 
 " You should have let me come and help," Pascoe 
 said.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 THE STRANGE CASE OF MR. VOSPER 
 
 ONE afternoon in the summer holidays Rudd 
 found a stranger at tea with his father and 
 mother. His father called the stranger Sam, and 
 the stranger called his father Tommy. It was the 
 first time that Rudd had heard his father called 
 Tommy, and there was something odd about it. 
 His mother and his relations called him either Tom 
 or Thomas. Rudd had become used to hearing his 
 father called by his surname only, which for a 
 long time had given him a kind of shock, as 
 though of presumption or familiarity carried too 
 far, even to a point of disrespect ; but " Tommy " 
 was quite a novelty. Rudd looked at his father 
 with new eyes, as though searching for the traces 
 of that lost boyhood or youth to which the affec- 
 tionate diminutive was applicable, but he failed to 
 find it. 
 
 The stranger, it seemed, was Mr. Samuel Vosper, 
 and he and Rudd's father had been at school together 
 and had remained friends. He was now a jovial 
 shabby man, this Sam, with odd clothes, but Rudd
 
 THE STRANGE CASE OF MR. VOSPER 103 
 
 liked him instantly. He had a black beard and very 
 white laughing teeth. 
 
 He was staying with his wife at one of the hotels. 
 She was an invalid. He had come to ask Mr. and 
 Mrs. Sergison to dine there that evening; Rudd, of 
 course, must join them. 
 
 From remarks exchanged by his parents after Mr. 
 Vosper's departure, Rudd learned that Sam Vosper 
 was an odd fish : a man with the artistic temperament 
 and very wide sympathies, who had been forced into 
 business and had consistently failed. How he now 
 lived, no one knew ; probably his family contributed. 
 However, here he was, aged about fifty, perfectly 
 happy, tasting life like a collector, and never think- 
 ing of to-morrow except as containing a scheme of 
 pleasure. 
 
 Rudd returned from the dinner-party in a glow of 
 enthusiasm, for Mr. Vosper had been encouraging 
 and sympathetic to him. Mrs. Sergison had always 
 been so certain that no member of her family could 
 write that she had treated his little essays and verses 
 with perplexing lightness. Moreover, it was a tenet 
 of her faith that a life given to literature was a waste, 
 except, of course, when it produced the highest 
 results, such as Longfellow's. She liked a quiet 
 novel, but she liked the novelist to be also a serious 
 person, like Trollope, who had an important appoint- 
 ment under the Postmaster-General. Art for Art's 
 sake was a perilous theory. As for Mr. Sergison, he 
 never asked to be shown any of Rudd's effusions,
 
 104 LANDMARKS 
 
 nor would Rudd have dreamed of showing them 
 to him. 
 
 And then came this sympathetic stranger, full of 
 interest, who having drawn from Rudd the confession 
 that he liked reading and had tried to write some- 
 thing himself, had set him a literary task. The way 
 to write, he said, is to write about nothing. That 
 is the real test. Dean Swift wrote an essay on a 
 broomstick. Rudd must try to evolve strawless 
 bricks too. 
 
 " Here, take this stone," Mr. Vosper had said and 
 he handed Rudd a pebble which he had picked up 
 that day on the beach "and write me an essay 
 about that." 
 
 " But a pebble's not interesting," Rudd said. 
 
 "That doesn't matter," said Mr. Vosper. "The 
 subject needn't be interesting. It's the author who 
 has got to be interesting. No one should, of course, 
 write an essay on anything at all till he knows that 
 he is going to die ; but that is a counsel of perfection. 
 Let me have an essay about this pebble in a day 
 or so, and then you shall take me for a walk one 
 morning and I'll tell you how it strikes me." 
 
 All the rest of the evening Rudd was rolling the 
 pebble between his fingers, wondering and wondering 
 what he could find to say about it. 
 
 " Mind, no encyclopaedia," were Mr. Vesper's last 
 words to him. " It must be all out of your own 
 head." 
 
 It was arranged that on the eventful morning of
 
 THE STRANGE CASE OF MR. VOSPER 105 
 
 the criticism Rudd should fetch Mr. Vosper from the 
 hotel in time for an early train to a village under the 
 hills, and they were to walk back. 
 
 Mr. Vosper was all ready, dressed more curiously 
 than ever, so that even Rudd, all unconscious as he 
 was of the nuances of clothes, could not help noticing 
 that something was odd. He had a straw hat, a 
 black frock-coat and trousers, and canvas sand-shoes. 
 But his exuberant personality and all-round interest 
 soon made any strangeness of attire negligible. 
 
 After bidding Mrs. Vosper a farewell so affectionate 
 that it might have been a final parting, Mr. Vosper 
 released her from his embrace and declared himself 
 ready, and off they started. 
 
 Mr. Vosper said nothing about the essay till they 
 were in the train. Then he pulled it from his pocket 
 and began to criticize. He liked it, he said. It was 
 good as far as it went ; but that was not far enough. 
 Rudd should have let himself go more freely. 
 
 " The most interesting thing to you about this 
 pebble you haven't even mentioned," said Mr. Vosper. 
 " You have said that it was made round by the sea, 
 and all that sort of thing ; you have said that it was 
 found on Caston beach, and you have said something 
 about the history and character of Caston ; and so on. 
 All very good. But the best thing of all you have 
 missed." 
 
 " What is that ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 "Can't you guess?" said Mr. Vosper, smiling. 
 
 Rudd couldn't.
 
 106 LANDMARKS 
 
 " You didn't buy it ? " Mr. Vosper said. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well then?" 
 
 But Rudd was dense. 
 
 "Why," said Mr. Vosper, "the most interesting 
 thing is that I gave it to you. I am only a very 
 ordinary person, with no power to write and no power 
 to paint, yet tremendously keen on good books 
 and good pictures ; but I am probably the most 
 interesting person you have met for a week or two, 
 aren't I ? " 
 
 " I should think so," said Rudd heartily. 
 
 " And," Mr. Vosper went on, " I know you like me 
 or you wouldn't have written the essay or come out 
 for a country walk with me ; and yet you never even 
 mention my existence when I ask you to be as 
 digressive as you like about a pebble I drew from 
 my pocket. Don't you see ? " 
 
 Rudd was too young and immature to realize fully 
 what all this meant; sixteen is very young for an 
 author ; but he never forgot it. As the years passed 
 on and experience without which to write about 
 men and women is foolishness came to him, he grew 
 into it. 
 
 " In the long run," Mr. Vosper continued, " it's 
 people that people want to read about. The proper 
 study of mankind, said Pope, is man, and Pope knew 
 most things. I must give you a Pope as a memento 
 of our time together." 
 
 Alighting at the station they walked through the
 
 THE STRANGE CASE OF MR. VOSPER 107 
 
 village on the way to the hills and thus home 
 again. 
 
 As they were passing a house Mr. Vosper noticed 
 a trim housemaid, with a laughing face and a spotless 
 cap, at an upper window, and to Rudd's amazement 
 and disapproval, he stopped and kissed his hand to 
 her. She smiled and blushed. 
 
 "Pretty dear! Pretty dear!" said Mr. Vosper, 
 kissing his hand again. " I wish she would come 
 down here a minute. I'd like to get at those lips. 
 Pretty dear ! " 
 
 They walked on, Mr. Vosper occasionally glancing 
 back for a last look at the housemaid, and Rudd in a 
 state of dismay. 
 
 He was remembering the warmth and depth of the 
 embrace which Mr. Vosper had bestowed upon his 
 wife that morning in the hotel. An invalid wife too ! 
 And now ? So it was possible even for this remark- 
 ably interesting man who knew everything to want 
 to kiss a pretty housemaid as well as that delicate 
 distinguished lady. 
 
 But was that right ? 
 
 No one could deny, however, that he knew a lot 
 about literature : a jolly sight more than any master 
 at school. 
 
 Still .
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 THE LATCH KEY 
 
 IT had always been Mrs. Sergison's wish that Rudd 
 should be a doctor. Mr. Sergison proposed a 
 walk of life that did not require so expensive a 
 preparation, nor, with reason, did he consider Rudd 
 likely to make a good doctor, for at that time he 
 was often absent-minded and gave no signs that he 
 would ever be a capable swift hand in emergencies. 
 None the less, Mrs. Sergison having had her way, 
 less through strength of will than a contribution 
 from her own income to his allowance, Rudd was 
 entered as a student at St. Stephen's Hospital in 
 London. 
 
 Mr. Sergison took no further interest in the matter, 
 except that at his club he now and then remarked 
 that he had decided that his boy should be a medical 
 man. "A noble profession," he would say. "A 
 fine thing, healing one's fellow-creatures," he would 
 say. '' The great fight with pain and disease, don't 
 you know." 
 
 As for Rudd, he had no great hopes from medicine, 
 but so long as the principles of the pharmacopoeia 
 
 108
 
 THE LATCH KEY 109 
 
 had to be acquired in London he was ready enough. 
 London was the place. 
 
 The next step was to find Rudd's lodgings, and here 
 Uncle Ben came on the scene. Mrs. Sergison would 
 have liked Rudd to live with her brother, who had an 
 odd room or two in his ramshackle upper-part in 
 Westminster, but Uncle Ben was firm against it. 
 
 " No," he said, " relations shouldn't live together." 
 Much better too that Rudd should be wholly on his 
 own. And let him rough it a bit and have to scheme 
 to make both ends meet. The smaller the allowance, 
 the more the fun. Enough money when one was 
 young was a great mistake; there should be manage- 
 ment and denials. No dinner one day, for example, in 
 order to enjoy a double one the next. No lunch, in 
 order to buy a book or a print. 
 
 Rudd agreed heartily with the first part of this 
 statement; for his one idea was to be on his own. 
 From what he knew of London he wanted to live 
 either in the Temple or Staple Inn. 
 
 "Of course you do," said Uncle Ben, who was 
 entertaining his sister and nephew to lunch before 
 the great hunt began. " So does everybody in your 
 position. But it can't be done not on two pounds a 
 week for everything." 
 
 A nice boarding-house was Mrs. Sergison's idea, 
 but Uncle Ben here came to Rudd's rescue. 
 
 " No," he said. " That's no good for him. In the 
 first place, there aren't any nice boarding-houses, and 
 in the second place, London will be no use to the boy
 
 no LANDMARKS 
 
 if he is having his meals at regular hours with a lot of 
 people. He's not that sort. No, we must find a bed- 
 sitting-room, with breakfast inclusive, at a reasonable 
 rate, not too far from the hospital." 
 
 " I know of such a nice family who would make 
 Rudd one of themselves at Turnham Green," said Mrs. 
 Sergison. 
 
 "Then forget it," said Uncle Ben. "We don't 
 want Turnham Green. We want to be within half an 
 hour's walk of the hospital, or ten minutes by bus, in 
 London proper, or improper, and we don't want to be 
 one of any family, except the great human family. 
 That's it, isn't it, Rudd ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Rudd. " But are you sure Staple Inn's 
 too dear?" 
 
 " Certain. That can come later when you have 
 made a little extra by your pen or your father raises 
 your allowance. Now for the ' Britannia. ' " 
 
 " What's that ? " asked Mrs. Sergison. 
 
 " A public-house," said Uncle Ben. " It is some- 
 where round there that we will look first." 
 
 " Must we ? " Mrs. Sergison asked. " I don't like 
 Rudd to be so near a public-house." 
 
 "That's all right," said Uncle Ben. "In London 
 all the omnibus centres are called after public-houses. 
 It's a wicked city, you know. Come along now and 
 begin." 
 
 With the assistance of a four-wheeler by the hour, 
 they made a thorough search of such likely-looking 
 houses as had " Apartments " over the door likely
 
 THE LATCH KEY ill 
 
 in Uncle Ben's view being unlikely in Mrs. Sergison's, 
 and likely in hers being unlikely in his, for, as he was 
 quickly able to demonstrate, very clean doorsteps and 
 muslin curtains mean nothing. 
 
 " That's no real test," he said. " The test is inside. 
 There are several better things to go by than that. 
 There's the smell of the house ; there's the servant 
 who opens the door ; there's the landlady ; and if you 
 have the chance of seeing them, there are the other 
 occupants." 
 
 The application of these touchstones eliminated 
 house after house. This landlady was too grasping, 
 that too weary and overworked ; this too slatternly, 
 that too self-righteous and prim ; this one drank and 
 that one looked as if she might. " Although that's 
 not necessarily an objection," Uncle Ben explained. 
 "The best landlady I ever had generous, good- 
 tempered, uncomplaining and a fine cook was 
 always a little bit fuddled, bless her old heart ! And 
 on occasions when the event called for it tight as a 
 lord." 
 
 " My dear Ben," said Mrs. Sergison, " I do wish you 
 wouldn't be so lenient." 
 
 "You have to be in London," said Uncle Ben. 
 " Otherwise you couldn't get on at all. Cupboards 
 so packed with skeletons that if you didn't disregard 
 them life wouldn't be worth living." 
 
 " I don't like it for Rudd," said his mother. 
 
 "Then why make him a doctor?" Uncle Ben 
 asked. " Doctors meet human nature at its weakest
 
 112 LANDMARKS 
 
 and most off its guard. You can't keep doctors in 
 cotton wool." 
 
 Mrs. Sergison sighed. " I suppose not," she said. 
 
 In the end a bed-sitting-room on a top floor was 
 found in Mornington Crescent, at the corner of which 
 George Cruikshank (as a tablet said) lived and died, 
 and in one of the houses of which, as Uncle Ben re- 
 membered, Tennyson left the MS. of " In Memoriam." 
 
 " It's a beautiful room," said the landlady. " You 
 can see Primrose Hill from it." 
 
 " The point is," said Uncle Ben, " what can you see 
 in it ? I should like to see a chest of drawers that 
 would hold something, for example, and curtains that 
 would keep out the light." 
 
 " You're a noticing one," said the landlady. " If 
 you'll pay a month's rent in advance I'll do just 
 what you want and more too." 
 
 And so after a hundred questions from Mrs. 
 Sergison as to airing of sheets and so forth, and a 
 little beating down by Uncle Ben, whom the landlady 
 would much rather have had as a lodger than the 
 rather gloomy looking youth who was with him, 
 the room was secured at the inclusive price of 
 sixteen shillings a week, breakfast included, and coal 
 sixpence per scuttle extra. 
 
 This settled, they re-entered the four-wheeler to 
 take Mrs. Sergison to the train and fetch Rudd's 
 luggage from the cloak-room. 
 
 All the way there his hand was in his pocket, his 
 fingers tightly clasped round his first latch key.
 
 THE LATCH KEY 113 
 
 " Well, my boy, you're launched on the sea of 
 London and life," said Uncle Ben as he was leaving 
 them on their way to the station. "You're coming 
 to me to lunch every Sunday, remember. Meanwhile, 
 let me give you one piece of advice. Be in as many 
 sets and spheres of activity as you can ; but don't 
 be of any. And don't forget I'm always handy. 
 Advice on tap, day and night. By the way, here's 
 that five pounds I owe you," and having discharged 
 this wholly mythical debt, Uncle Ben sprang on a 
 bus step and was gone. 
 
 Later in the evening, when his things were 
 unpacked, Rudd walked out for a meal, and returning 
 down the Tottenham Court Road had his first 
 London adventure. 
 
 In front of him was a poorly-dressed woman of 
 about thirty, struggling with a large clothes-basket 
 which was much too big and too heavy for her. 
 
 " Let me help you," Rudd said, catching her up 
 and taking one of the handles as he spoke. 
 
 The woman looked at him in terror and snatched 
 at his hand. 
 
 " Let go or I'll scream for the police," she cried. 
 
 Rudd let go as if it were an adder and hurried on, 
 mortified to the quick to have been so mis- 
 understood. 
 
 He tingled under the thought of it long after. 
 How was a boy of his age to know that in the 
 Mother of Cities even Good Samaritans must walk 
 warily? 
 8
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 LA VIS 
 
 RUDD was soon settled at St. Stephen's and he 
 did his best to work, but all the while as he sat 
 at lectures or read in the library the murmur of 
 London echoed in his head. How could so curious 
 a youth hear this entrancing sound and be satisfied 
 with cold print? That the students of villages like 
 Oxford or Cambridge should neglect their duties is 
 grotesque; but the marvel is that in London any 
 book-work is done at all with such siren voices as 
 hers ever calling. 
 
 For a \\hile he made no Hospital friends, and then 
 one day a new-comer arrived a tall, thin, hatchet- 
 faced man of about twenty-seven, dressed loosely in 
 tweeds. 
 
 " That's the man for me," Rudd thought ; but not 
 for a week or so did he meet him. 
 
 And then Lavis himself broke the ice. 
 
 It was in the little eating-house near the Hospital. 
 Above it was the billiard-room where, at the most 
 seductive of games of skill, many of the students lost 
 whatever chances of medical distinction might have
 
 LAVIS 115 
 
 been in store for them and gave up to ivory what was 
 meant for mankind. 
 
 Rudd took a seat opposite the lean and rugged but 
 kindly-looking person whom he had seen from time 
 to time in the corridor of the reading-room, and con- 
 sidered the bill of fare. 
 
 " Whatever you do," said his companion, in a deep 
 voice, looking up from his work, " don't have the 
 stewed beef. It was prepared wholly in the interests 
 of the toothpick industry." 
 
 The next day they had lunch together again, and 
 gradually they became friendly. Rudd accepted an 
 invitation to Lavis's rooms, and would have returned 
 it but that his own bed-sitting-room was not suitable 
 for hospitality, being at the top of a building in- 
 habited by people who went to bed at ten, 
 apparently for no other purpose than to make notes 
 upon any sounds that might be heard in the house 
 after that hour and report them to the landlady in 
 the morning. Nothing less encouraging to young 
 men's nocturnal conviviality could be imagined. 
 
 Lavis's rooms were maintained on a more liberal 
 principle, and here, in an atmosphere of tobacco 
 smoke, among books and engravings, Rudd listened 
 to iconoclastic talk and assimilated new views and 
 ideals. 
 
 Lavis was from Vancouver, and had but just decided, 
 so late in life, to be a doctor. " There's no money in 
 it," he said, " but it's one of the few decent businesses. 
 One is doing something and not getting the better
 
 ii6 LANDMARKS 
 
 of anybody all the time, as most of the others 
 have to." 
 
 Lavis now had means, but had been roughing it 
 as a surveyor for some years. Directly the funds 
 arrived, through his father's death, he had put his 
 favourite project into action. 
 
 Lavis did as he liked and never seemed to think 
 of what others thought. He had a dress suit, and 
 looked anything but a waiter or a trombonist in it, 
 but he wore it as seldom as possible. Even in his 
 dress suit he had a receptacle for a pipe. Cigars and 
 cigarettes he despised, and more than one restaurant 
 was barred to him because he not only refused to 
 obey the order forbidding the smoking of pipes but 
 insisted on delivering a caustic lecture on the subject 
 to the manager. 
 
 Women had no interest for him whatever. Without 
 saying so, it was clear that he regarded them as 
 a general interference with male comfort. In their 
 company he was low-voiced, attentive and deferential, 
 but he was glad to be outside again in the fresh 
 air. 
 
 Like so many colonials, he had read much, 
 especially the new writers, and there seemed to be no 
 bound to his interests. He would go to the Opera as 
 much as to the Halls ; haunt the National Gallery 
 and Lord's ; explore Whitechapel not less than 
 Wiltshire. 
 
 It was Lavis who brought Rudd under the spell of 
 the great and gracious stage figure of those times.
 
 LA VIS 117 
 
 Together they were assiduous supporters of the most 
 perfect production in the modern theatre, the Lyceum 
 " Much Ado about Nothing," and not only witnessed 
 that incomparable gentleman, Irving's Benedick, 
 move hither and thither amid the Italian crowd in 
 his gravely humorous perplexity, but heard the un- 
 forgettable tones and saw the unforgettable charm 
 and gesture with which Beatrice (Queen of Women) 
 said " There was a star danced, and under that was 
 I born," and, a little later, came mischievously out 
 from the banquet to her victim to bid him, against 
 her will, to dinner. 
 
 Rudd and Lavis had their regular places at the 
 Lyceum almost as if they were subscribers to the 
 Opera. They did not sit at all, but stood leaning 
 over the barrier between the pit and the stalls. They 
 thus made the best of both worlds, their upper parts 
 being swells and their lower democrats, for though 
 their legs were in the half-crown part, their heads 
 were in the half-guinea. 
 
 It was Lavis who discovered three stanzas which 
 turned Rudd's head and sent him singing through 
 the day for weeks and weeks and never wholly left 
 him. They came to him in a letter from Lavis, then 
 in the country. " My dear Boy," he wrote, " here is 
 something to get you out of London. If it were 
 longer I wouldn't have the pluck to copy it ; and if 
 it were longer it wouldn't be perfect." 
 
 All day Rudd found himself murmuring 
 
 ' ' I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree. "
 
 1 18 LANDMARKS 
 
 It was Lavis who made friends with the captain 
 of a river tug-boat with whom they made midnight 
 voyages to Gravesend all among the shipping. 
 
 They had their less reputable enterprises too. 
 
 Lavis had a way of discovering things. Perhaps 
 one has to be a late-comer to London to do this ; the 
 born Londoners so quickly become villagers, living 
 within their own small area, eating and drinking in 
 the same places, and seeing the same people, just as 
 at Little Pedlington ; but the inquiring strangers 
 really investigate. Rudd had investigated too, but 
 he had not Lavis's imperturbable readiness to go 
 anywhere or everywhere alone. Rudd was enter- 
 prising and curious, but without Lavis he would never, 
 for example, have found Sing Loo. He would have 
 wanted to, but when the time came he would have 
 weakened. With Lavis to join him and share the 
 novelty, the rest was natural. 
 
 With all his varied experience in the West, Lavis 
 of course had smoked opium ; and this was one of 
 the things which, for some vague reason, Rudd wished 
 to do. 
 
 " You frontiersmen have all the luck," he said. 
 
 " There's nothing in it," Lavis assured him. Un- 
 less, he added, one persevered and fell to the habit, 
 and then of course one was a silly idiot. 
 
 " I want to try," said Rudd. " I want to try 
 everything." 
 
 " Very well," said Lavis. " Have your own way." 
 And late one summer night indeed in the small
 
 LAVIS 119 
 
 hours, after the " Gambrinus " had closed, and under 
 a sky that had never been really dark they walked 
 through the deserted City right away to Aldgate and 
 farther. 
 
 After proceeding a little way along the Commercial 
 Road, they turned to the right down a narrow street 
 with Chinese signs in it, and at a door on the left 
 Lavis knocked three times. Footsteps were heard 
 on the stairs, and the door was unlocked and opened 
 by a Chinese youth with a bicycle lamp, who, after 
 scrutinizing them closely, led the way up a narrow 
 staircase and through a passage to an empty room. 
 " Wait here," he said, and disappeared. 
 
 The house was close and dirty : filled with the East 
 End smell, into which crept something strange and 
 aromatic. Voices were heard in a neighbouring room. 
 
 " Don't lean against the wall," said Lavis. 
 
 " Why not ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " You must guess," said Lavis. " Later, when 
 you're a doctor in a poor district, you'll know." 
 
 The boy now returned, led them a little farther, 
 and flung open a door. The change from darkness 
 to light was very sudden, and for a moment Rudd 
 was dazed. Then he saw an old Chinaman with a 
 very yellow face seated on a sofa, holding something 
 over a small flame. By his side was a woman gaudily 
 dressed. On a bed, to the right, sat another and 
 younger woman, a girl in fact. On the left was a 
 screen. The room was heavy with the aromatic 
 scent and thick with smoke.
 
 120 LANDMARKS 
 
 The old Chinaman wished them good evening in a 
 cordial whisper. The two women giggled, and the 
 one on the bed made room for Rudd, who, however, 
 remained standing. 
 
 " You want smoke ? " the Chinaman asked Lavis, 
 again whispering, and Lavis said that he wanted 
 nothing of the kind, but his friend wished to try. 
 
 " Why don't you ? " the older woman asked Lavis. 
 " It's splendid. I've got a pipe of my own at home. 
 It makes you forget everything." 
 
 " I don't want to forget everything; I want to 
 remember it," said Lavis. " That's the difference." 
 
 The woman looked at him searchingly for a moment 
 and then laughed. 
 
 " That's all right for you," she said. " Hurry up, 
 uncle. There's precious little I want to remember." 
 
 Lavis sat on the arm of the sofa and watched the 
 old Chinaman. 
 
 " These ladies first," said Sing Loo, and he began 
 again to move a little black ball of something that 
 sizzled backwards and forwards and round and round 
 over the flame. 
 
 " Now," he whispered, holding out the pipe, and 
 the older woman leaned back among the cushions 
 and began to smoke, with her eyes closed. There 
 was no doubt about her pleasure in it. The suction 
 made a little sighing sound. 
 
 " Beautiful," she said, and relapsed into ecstasy, 
 while the girl, who was evidently new to it, watched 
 her, fascinated,
 
 LA VIS 121 
 
 Rudd meanwhile sat down on the bed, but leapt 
 up again as a voice from the sheets called out, " Get 
 off my leg, confound you ! " 
 
 " I'm awfully sorry," Rudd said. " I thought it 
 was empty." 
 
 " Yes, but why on earth," said the voice, " can't you 
 let me get to sleep ? coming here at this time of 
 night to smoke that filthy stuff!" 
 
 The girl leaned over and said something to him, 
 and they both laughed. 
 
 " That's my son," said the old Chinaman to Rudd. 
 " It's all right." 
 
 " He speaks perfect English," said Rudd. 
 
 " Of course he does," said the girl. " He's at Ox- 
 ford. Aren't you, Charley ? " 
 
 " Oh, go to blazes ! " said Charley, " and let me 
 sleep." 
 
 " Now, Amy," said the woman, " it's your turn," 
 and Amy left the bed to watch the preparation of 
 her pipe, and Rudd took her place nearer the head of 
 the bed. 
 
 " Are you really at Oxford ? " he asked its occupant. 
 
 "Of course I am. I wish I was there now. I can't 
 get any sleep at all in this place with all the row that 
 goes on every night and the smell of that cursed 
 opium." 
 
 Rudd noticed that his features were undoubtedly 
 Chinese. 
 
 " My brother's wiser ; he doesn't even try," Charley 
 added,
 
 122 LANDMARKS 
 
 " Where is your brother ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " Behind that screen reading," said Charley, and 
 Rudd crossed over, and looking round the screen, 
 found a yellow-skinned youth poring over a Chinese 
 book. Lavis joined him. 
 
 " Well, of all the places ! " Rudd said. " Is that 
 fellow really at Oxford?" 
 
 " Certainly," said Lavis. 
 
 " And all living in this room ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " The Chinese haven't many personal needs," said 
 Lavis. " That's all right." 
 
 The other woman was now whispering to Charley, 
 and Amy, leaning back, was being taught by the old 
 Chinaman how to smoke properly. 
 
 " Take it quietly," he whispered, and prodded the 
 smouldering ball. The other woman came over to 
 help. 
 
 " Just breathe it in," she said. " Shut your eyes 
 and enjoy it." 
 
 " I don't see anything in it," said Amy. 
 
 " No, but you will," said the other. 
 
 " If you take my advice, you'll never touch it again," 
 said Charley from the bed. " It's beastly stuff. The 
 very smell of it makes me sick." 
 
 The old Chinaman laughed softly, and began to 
 smoke his own pipe again, surveying the room and 
 the two women with placid eyes. Amy was not more 
 than twenty; the other woman, whom she called 
 Belle, was ten or more years older, and battered. 
 Belle was evidently an old hand here. She beckoned
 
 LAVIS 123 
 
 to Rudd and leered at him, but he drew farther away. 
 This kind of woman horrified him. 
 
 " Your friend's not very sociable," Belle said to 
 Lavis. 
 
 " He's tired," said Lavis, " and this place is enough 
 to make anyone faint. Are you going to try, or are 
 you sick of it all ? " he asked Rudd. 
 
 Rudd said that he should see it through ; and all 
 being ready, the old Chinaman whispered to him to 
 take Amy's place and lean back comfortably, and then 
 with one or two last twirls of the opium over the 
 flame, placed the thin brass stem between his lips. 
 They all joined in his education, except the two 
 sons. 
 
 "Don't pull at it," Belle said. "Breathe it in 
 quietly. Like in'aling." Rudd did so, but experi- 
 enced none of the sweet dreaminess which he had 
 expected. He disliked the taste, but persevered until, 
 in about two minutes, the pipe was done. 
 
 " Well ? " Lavis asked. 
 
 ' I don't feel any different," Rudd said. " Let's go." 
 
 Charley had begun to snore ; his brother still pored 
 over the Chinese characters; the two women, who 
 had evidently been drinking, were becoming maudlin. 
 
 " How much ? " Lavis asked. 
 
 " Ten shillings," whispered the old Chinaman, who 
 was again smoking in perfect content. 
 
 " Well," said Lavis, as they emerged again into the 
 street and fresh air, " that's sin. Strange how narrow 
 a line can divide it from dullness."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 ONE of the most serious thoughts that life 
 provokes is the reflection that we can never 
 tell, at the time, whether a word, a look, a touch, an 
 occurrence of any kind, is trivial or important. 
 
 A lonely visitor to London once bought himself 
 a ticket for a music-hall. Just as he entered a 
 restaurant for dinner he met some old friends and 
 joined their table. Time went on ; there was much 
 to say : and it was not till it was nearly ten that he 
 remembered his ticket. 
 
 "Wait a minute," he said, for he was a kindly 
 impulsive soul, and he stepped out into the Strand 
 and watched the passers-by. 
 
 After a minute or so a young man sauntered past, 
 alone. He obviously had nothing to do. 
 
 " Excuse me," said the visitor to London, " but I 
 bought this ticket for a music-hall to-night, and 
 having met some friends I don't want it. If you are 
 free, perhaps you might care to make use of it?" 
 
 The young man, being in the Strand, where gold
 
 HOW ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER 125 
 
 bricks are sold, and long-firm and confidence trick 
 men notoriously assemble, at first was suspicious ; 
 but realizing that the offer was genuine, he accepted 
 the ticket with thanks, and went on his way. 
 
 The visitor to London returned to his friends, told 
 them what he had done, and was felicitated upon his 
 action. Most of the others said that they would 
 merely have torn the ticket up. "Jolly decent of 
 you," they agreed. 
 
 The young man was a steady, sensible fellow, an 
 engineer, who had just become engaged to a nice 
 girl at Kettering. They were to be married in eight 
 months' time, and meanwhile he had no thought of 
 changing his employers. 
 
 He took his stall in the music-hall, and during the 
 performance found himself conversing with an elderly 
 man next to him, who was also alone. The elderly 
 man was a mine-owner in West Africa, who wanted 
 some one to go out there at once and draw up a 
 report. Before the evening was out the young man 
 had agreed to sail that week, with a handsome fee for 
 his alacrity. 
 
 He sailed, made the report, and was shot dead by 
 a native, in mistake for the mine-manager, on the day 
 he was leaving to return. 
 
 If he had not been offered that ticket he might 
 have been alive to-day, and the nice girl at Kettering 
 would not have gone into a decline out of sheer 
 broken-heartedness. 
 
 Chance can never be directed or anticipated ; nor
 
 126 LANDMARKS 
 
 can its workings, when it chooses to interfere, be 
 recognized except retrospectively. 
 
 In the life of Rudd, as of every one else, chance 
 played a capricious part. It was never more active 
 than when he decided to attend the debate on 
 Socialism. Rudd was going to it, not because he 
 was interested in the subject, one way or the other, 
 but because he and certain of his friends, who wished 
 to be there, were afterwards to drink lager beer. 
 
 For the whole business of politics, with which he 
 grouped debates on whatever topic, Rudd, although 
 he was true to certain men who formulated his 
 father's creed, had had nothing but dislike, mixed 
 with suspicion, ever since the Caston election ; and 
 he could think of no argument that would under any 
 circumstances get him on his legs in a mixed audience 
 either in support or opposition. 
 
 Support indeed was from him even less likely than 
 opposition, for at that time he was always more eager 
 to condemn what he thought wrong than to extol 
 what he thought right. It may have been that he 
 felt vaguely that the right could look after itself, or 
 perhaps antipathies offered surer ground. 
 
 Rudd dined that evening with Doran in one of the 
 Soho restaurants the discovery of which was just 
 then a pastime. A competition was in progress 
 among London's ex-waiters with a little capital as to 
 which could give the best eighteenpenny lunch or 
 half-crown dinner, and Rudd and his friends had 
 constituted themselves honorary judges of this event.
 
 HOW ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER 127 
 
 That evening he and Doran, having a little more 
 money than usual, selected the "Venezia" in Old 
 Compton Street, and they were just settling down 
 to their hors-d'ceuvres and Chianti when they saw 
 Godsmark enter. 
 
 Godsmark, who was to be the defender of Socialism 
 that evening, did not see them, but approached a 
 table laid for one, some distance away, where he 
 seemed to be expected, took off his overcoat, reveal- 
 ing evening dress beneath, and sat down to a solitary 
 repast. 
 
 From time to time Godsmark glanced at the paper, 
 but he did not let it interfere seriously with his 
 appetite or his enjoyment. He never looked Rudd's 
 way. He drank champagne. 
 
 The hall where the debate was to be held was in 
 Bloomsbury, and just before Rudd and Doran 
 reached it they saw in the roadway a crowd, which they 
 joined. The centre of the crowd was a horse and 
 wagon. The wagon was overloaded, and the horse 
 was unable to start again owing to the weight 
 behind it. Such troubles are still a common sight 
 in Covent Garden, but they were common every- 
 where then. The driver was pulling at the bridle 
 and uttering encouraging cries, while several men 
 were pushing either the wagon itself or the spokes 
 of the wheels, to give the thing a start. The leader of 
 these men, who was making rallying noises so that the 
 push could come from all at once, was Curnow, who 
 was to oppose Godsmark in the debate a little later.
 
 128 LANDMARKS 
 
 In a short while the wagon moved again, the driver 
 sprang to the box, the crowd melted into individuals, 
 and Rudd and Doran entered the meeting. 
 
 Godsmark began. Rising briskly to his feet and 
 expanding his broad chest, spotless from its nettoyage 
 d sec, he plunged, with a confident smile, into the 
 merits of his universal panacea Socialism. He was 
 a fluent and confident speaker with a bland and 
 benevolent face, and he arranged his arguments 
 skilfully. Debates were life-blood to him. 
 
 Curnow, who replied, was very different. He was 
 a poor speaker and was shabby in dress; but he 
 did what he could to prove the futility of Gods- 
 mark's position, and the meeting was then thrown 
 open. 
 
 Rudd listened with more interest than he had 
 anticipated. It was not a debate in the strict sense 
 of the word, for each speaker had brought cut and 
 dried arguments which bore little relation to what 
 had gone before ; but the pros and cons of Socialism 
 were fairly arranged during the evening. It emerged 
 as a more reasonable possibility than Rudd had ever 
 thought it, and red ties and vegetarianism were shown 
 to be not its inevitable concomitants. 
 
 " I will now/' said the chairman, who was to be one 
 of Rudd's party, later on, when dialectics were to give 
 place to conviviality, " call on a few gentlemen in the 
 room who have not yet spoken, and whose views we 
 should like to hear : the amateurs of discussion, as I 
 may say, to distinguish them from the professionals
 
 HOW ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER 129 
 
 and experts who have been favouring us with their 
 voluntary views. I first call on Mr. Doran." 
 
 Doran rose reluctantly, mumbled a few apologies 
 as to his inability to speak, and sat down. 
 
 " Mr. Creal," said the chairman. 
 
 Creal for some moments refused to budge ; but at 
 length was forced into a position which was not 
 sitting and not standing, but something painfully 
 uncomfortable between the two, and thus hovering 
 he made the superfluous confession that oratory was 
 not in his line, and collapsed as though his backbone 
 had suddenly turned to butter. 
 
 " Mr. Sergison," said the chairman. 
 
 Rudd was electrified. He had not the faintest 
 idea that he could possibly be involved in this exhi- 
 bition, and for the moment he was rendered dumb 
 and void. But then realizing how contemptible it 
 would be if every one behaved as Doran and Creal 
 had done, he determined to do his best. Yet he had 
 no argument that was pertinent. He never had : he 
 saw everything either whole or very much piece- 
 meal, whole, in a flash which he was still young 
 enough to mistrust, and piecemeal in such minute 
 portions as to be almost impossible to define. If 
 ever there was a philosopher d'escalier it was he. 
 Not only his wit but his very creed was on those 
 steps. 
 
 None the less, he knew in his heart that on this 
 occasion, with all these strangers present and that 
 insufferable, self-satisfied Godsmark in his evening 
 9
 
 130 LANDMARKS 
 
 dress, something must be done, and he must try and 
 do it. The honour of the Hospital demanded it. 
 
 " Mr. Chairman and gentlemen," he said, " I will 
 not detain you by expressions of surprise at being 
 called upon, or statements of my inability to speak 
 in public. Nor can I offer either a constructive 
 defence of Socialism or criticism of it All that I 
 know about it I have learned this evening; but the 
 strange part of it is that I learned it before the meet- 
 ing began." (Laughter, which gave Rudd, who was 
 amazed at the tractability of his vocabula ry, increased 
 confidence.) 
 
 " This evening," he continued, " has indeed been 
 peculiarly instructive. It has provided me with two 
 scenes which make an odd and entertaining contrast. 
 Two hours ago it was the privilege of Mr. Doran, 
 he gentleman who has just made such a remarkable 
 speech (laughter) and myself to observe, in a re- 
 staurant, the principal Socialist speaker here dining 
 copiously with but one companion, a bottle of cham- 
 pagne. Half an hour later we watched the principal 
 Anti-Socialist speaker here helping a poor man with 
 his horse." 
 
 Rudd paused. " Mr. Godsmark," he continued, 
 " therefore, I think, must have my vote, since after 
 witnessing an exhibition of such public friendliness 
 as Mr. Curnow's, I feel bound to support a Socialist." 
 Rudd here sat down amid tremendous applause. 
 The immediate result of Rudd's successful elo- 
 quence was that on the next day a deputation of
 
 HOW ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER 131 
 
 medical students waited upon him to ask if he would 
 take the editorship of The Scalpel, the Hospital 
 magazine, which would be vacant next term. After 
 consulting with Lavis, Rudd said he would. 
 
 The secondary result was that his Uncle Ben urged 
 him to send a copy of The Scalpel to the editor of 
 The Post- Meridian, stating that it was largely his 
 own work; and the editor replied asking Rudd to 
 contribute something now and then. 
 
 The third result but we shall see.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 THE STOAT 
 
 IT was on a Sunday in June. Rudd and Lavis 
 were eating their lunch on the top of Chanctonbury, 
 when suddenly they heard screams. The anguished 
 sounds grew louder, and there ran across an open 
 space a rabbit followed hard by a stoat. The stoat 
 fastened upon it the next moment. 
 
 Rudd leapt up, but Lavis held him back. 
 
 " Let me go," said Rudd. 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 " I must stop that," said Rudd. The rabbit was 
 screaming more piteously than ever. 
 
 " Nonsense," said Lavis. " The stoat's got it. Let 
 him have it." 
 
 " It's too horrible," said Rudd. 
 
 " It's nature," said Lavis. 
 
 But Rudd broke away and the stoat disappeared 
 in the bushes. 
 
 Lavis came up and looked at the rabbit. Its eyes 
 were bulging with terror, brighter than jewels. Its 
 heart beat almost audibly. Blood oozed from a bite 
 
 in its back. It quivered with pain. 
 
 132
 
 THE STOAT 133 
 
 Lavis picked it up and broke its neck on the toe of 
 his boot. 
 
 " That's all you've done with your humanity," he 
 said. " It had to die anyway, and now you've cheated 
 an honest hard-working stoat out of a meal. Very 
 likely there is a starving stoat family close by." 
 
 They returned to their lunch. 
 
 " It's very difficult," Rudd said. 
 
 " What is ? " 
 
 "Nature," said Rudd. "You pitched into me for 
 being sorry for the rabbit and trying to stop its death. 
 Do you suggest that my humanity, as you call it, is 
 any less natural than the stoat's carnivorousness or 
 your sense of justice? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Lavis. " I've often wondered 
 whether pity is a cultivation or one of mankind's 
 unfortunate birthrights." 
 
 " My idea is that it's too prompt not to be an 
 instinct," said Rudd. 
 
 "Well, I didn't have any just then," said Lavis. 
 " I was a pro-stoat. And I'm not more natural than 
 you." 
 
 " Oh yes, you are," said Rudd ; " all you colonials 
 are." 
 
 " More primitive," said Lavis, " not more natural. 
 We're all about equally natural, I guess." 
 
 "Well, I can't see a sight like that," said Rudd, 
 " and, even more, hear it, without wanting to stop it. 
 And stoats are such awful brutes. I've read about 
 them. They pursue a rabbit for hours. They'll run
 
 134 LANDMARKS 
 
 right through a crowd of fatter ones and never turn 
 their heads, because it's just that one that they want 
 and nothing can stop them getting him. That's 
 ghastly. It's persecution as well as murder." 
 
 " He who made the rabbit made the stoat," said 
 Lavis. " It's all part of the scheme, I suppose. All of 
 us are pursued in the same way, by bad consciences 
 and disease ; and we all end in the same way death." 
 
 " Well," said Rudd, " I'm not sufficiently in tune 
 with the infinite, I suppose, to be so philosophical. 
 I shall always sympathize with the oppressed." 
 
 "That's your Christianity," said Lavis. "But 
 Christianity doesn't work. It never has worked, 
 and what's more, in my opinion, it was never 
 meant to." 
 
 "Why do you think it was not meant to?" Rudd 
 asked in some astonishment. " I've heard often 
 enough that it couldn't work, but never that it was 
 not intended to." 
 
 " Because Christ was an ironist," said Lavis. " We 
 are brought up to drop our voices when we mention 
 him, and everything is done to prevent us from 
 thinking of him as possessing the ordinary char- 
 acteristics of a man ; yet a man he had deliberately 
 chosen to be. And looking at him purely as a 
 human revolutionary, one can see him most naturally 
 as an ironist. His especial bugbears were riches and 
 pride ; and he was always scoring off them. All the 
 beatitudes are an attack on material power. All 
 the promises are for the poor. His great pleasure
 
 THE STOAT 135 
 
 was to make the poor happy: his religion was his 
 gift to them. But the impulse behind it, as I believe, 
 was as much the wish to irritate and humiliate the 
 rich as to benefit the poor. He could not take riches 
 and power away, so he glorified the advantages of 
 having none. He could not give the poor money, 
 and he did not believe in their capacity to rise and 
 win it for themselves, so he told them to be patient 
 and their reward would be in heaven. Christ had no 
 illusions about the rich either needing his religion or 
 adopting it. It conflicts with indulgence too con- 
 sistently for so shrewd an observer not to have 
 known that. It was not a scheme of practical life 
 for rulers \ it was an anodyne for the oppressed and 
 unfortunate." 
 
 Lavis was now warmed up. Not only was he on a 
 favourite theme but he had exactly the listener he 
 most desired : a youth sufficiently young to be 
 impressionable. 
 
 Rudd lay on his back looking up at the cloudless 
 sky. The song of a lark filtered down to them ; 
 distant sheep bells sounded ; a scent of warm turf 
 was in the air ; at their feet beyond the juniper 
 bushes was the weald, stretching away for miles until 
 lost in the haze. 
 
 Lavis's voice rose. "The horrible thing is," he 
 said, "that the rulers, the rich, the proud, have 
 collared Christ's religion and adapted it to suit their 
 purposes. That's the most ironical thing in history. 
 The anodyne for the poor has become a vast business
 
 136 LANDMARKS 
 
 concern. In this country it is a branch of the State, 
 and Christ, could he return to life, might have the 
 pleasure of seeing an Archbishop of Canterbury at 
 fifteen thousand a year consecrating the new colours 
 of a regiment. He could see also Parliament opening 
 with prayer and then voting huge sums to the army 
 and navy. Not that that would surprise him. There 
 is nothing in human nature that would surprise him : 
 but he could hardly help smiling when he found that 
 we call ourselves a Christian nation and dispatch 
 missionaries in his name all over the earth. ' Father, 
 forgive them,' he would perhaps murmur, 'for they 
 know what they do.' " 
 
 " How much of the life of Christ do you believe 
 in ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 "In nearly everything but the miracles. I believe 
 that he had great magnetic personality, few needs, 
 and a proper hatred of unhappiness. I don't believe 
 he wanted to alter outer conditions at all, as is the 
 usual manner of the reformer, but instead to provide 
 the unhappy poor with some compensation or con- 
 solation for missing the material pleasures. I don't 
 believe that he himself believed all that he said : I 
 think he knew that many of his counsels were counsels 
 of perfection, but he knew also that they were the 
 better for that. They formed an ideal to reach after. 
 I believe that he said ' Render unto Caesar the things 
 that are Caesar's,' and I think it the least inspired 
 moment of his life and a proof that he was not a 
 stranger to worldly discretion. I believe that he said
 
 THE STOAT 137 
 
 of the Magdalen that she should be forgiven much 
 ' because she had loved much/ and I think it his most 
 human utterance, and I defy even the adroitest Canon 
 to preach a sermon upon it satisfactory to the reason 
 of any ordinary man. I believe that he was crucified. 
 And there I stop." 
 
 "And you don't think Christianity possible?" Rudd 
 asked. 
 
 " Of course I don't. Not for more than a few 
 minutes at a time. But that doesn't matter. The 
 ideal is the thing. Pure Christianity is like poetry and 
 pictures : life is more beautiful for them all. But in 
 times of stress all are forgotten, and life still goes on, 
 and men cheat and slander and hit each other. And 
 it isn't as if Christ invented the ordinary decencies 
 which keep communities together and make existence 
 comfortable. There were kindness and generosity 
 and charity and give-and-take aeons before Christ was 
 born. What he did was to graft upon ordinary good 
 conduct certain impossible ideals, such as turning the 
 other cheek and loving one's neighbour as one's self, 
 which only a poet or ironist could have thought of 
 and only an anchorite could practise. And in the 
 course of spreading his glad tidings among the poor 
 he gathered such a rabble together that the Govern- 
 ment became nervous and thought him better out of 
 the way. That is how I think of it." 
 
 " Then would you have the New Testament pro- 
 hibited ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " Of course not. What an idea ! I wouldn't have
 
 138 LANDMARKS 
 
 a word altered or made less accessible. No, what I 
 say is, spread the Gospels as much as you can, but 
 stop calling England a Christian country. That's 
 the outrage." 
 
 Lavis ceased and lit his pipe. 
 
 The sun was growing hotter. The scent of thyme 
 came over the grass on a light breeze in warm waves. 
 The larks still sang. The dead rabbit lay where Lavis 
 had dropped it. 
 
 They had not gone a hundred yards on their way 
 when they met a shepherd. 
 
 "There's a rabbit a stoat's just killed, by that 
 thorn tree," said Lavis. 
 
 The shepherd thanked him and went off to get it. 
 
 "There," said Lavis, "I'm more of a Christian than 
 you after all. You never thought to mention that. 
 A rabbit's a big thing in a shepherd's kitchen."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 THE BEAUTIFUL PINK SLIP 
 
 RUDD pursued his medical studies without en- 
 thusiasm but with a certain amount of method. 
 That is to say, he gave them all the time that was 
 left after he had eaten and slept, talked and wan- 
 dered with Lavis, trifled with efforts at verse, and 
 heard the last comic song at the Mogul. 
 
 Any new verses, if they pleased him, he would send 
 to Uncle Ben, and one day Uncle Ben wrote back 
 saying, " Why don't you submit the enclosed to a 
 paper? It is much better than heaps of stuff they 
 print. I notice that The Post-Meridian has verse 
 nearly every day. Why not try that?" 
 
 Rudd did so : and being a beginner, enclosed a 
 letter deprecating his temerity and depreciating his 
 poem, but hoping for kind consideration. 
 
 The next day he woke up aware vaguely of some 
 impending excitement, but unable to remember it. 
 Then he remembered and tingled. 
 
 All the morning he was restless, and twice he went 
 round to the nearest station to see if The Post- 
 Meridian had come in yet. It hadn't. 
 
 139
 
 140 LANDMARKS 
 
 Rudd as a rule resented the evening papers arriving 
 on the streets as early as they did ; but to-day he 
 thought that The Post-Meridian ought to have more 
 enterprise. Here it was, nearly twelve, and the paper 
 not out yet ! An important paper too. 
 
 He returned to the Hospital, and in a quarter of an 
 hour was back at the station again. 
 
 A pile of Post- Meridians had just been placed 
 on the stall. Rudd tendered his penny with a hand 
 which he did his best to steady, and glanced at the 
 paper with the eager expression of a betting man : 
 instantly passing into a state of rapt bliss, for his 
 poem was before his enraptured gaze. 
 
 He was reading his first poem in real professional 
 Luard-approved print! 
 
 He blinked and stared. Yes, it was his. 
 
 His face flushed with triumph. He began to read 
 it aloud, but remembered where he was. 
 
 A comma was wrong, but otherwise the gem was 
 as he wrote it, and the initials " R. S." were at the 
 end. 
 
 What a pity he had not had the proof. Not only 
 for that comma, but he could have improved the last 
 couplet. Still how splendid it looked ! 
 
 He read it again. 
 
 Then he bought three more copies, one for Lavis, 
 one for his mother (who would not, however, under- 
 stand the point of the satire), and one for Uncle 
 Ben. 
 
 He wondered if the bookstall men had read it.
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL PINK SLIP 141 
 
 " Not bad verses in The Post-Meridian to-day," 
 he half thought of saying to the bookstall man ; for 
 why should not pleasure be widely spread? He 
 contented himself, however, with watching the pur- 
 chasers of the paper to see how they took it. But all 
 were interested in the foolish first page where the 
 trumpery political and other news was. News indeed ! 
 
 Rudd had said nothing to Lavis about his verses, 
 but before anyone Lavis must know the terrific 
 truth that Rudd was in print in a public paper which 
 had the eccentric habit of remunerating its contri- 
 butors. Every one can be in print in the other 
 things, The Scalpel and so forth. But Rudd was 
 now a working paid satirist. His first shaft had left 
 the bow. Others would follow. Public men must 
 jolly well look out. 
 
 He ran back with The Post-Meridian and began 
 to hunt through the hospital for Lavis. Up and 
 down he tried, but drew blank. Yet that Lavis had 
 not left the precincts old Flanagan the porter had 
 reason to be sure. 
 
 And then came the news that Lavis was in the 
 dissecting-room. 
 
 The dissecting-room ! 
 
 All these months Rudd had avoided that horrid 
 place : all these months he had known somewhere in 
 his soul that his aversion from it would never decrease. 
 Then how be a doctor? That was just it; that was 
 the problem which had vexed him continuously, 
 although now, of course, it was negligible, since from
 
 142 LANDMARKS 
 
 this morning he had the journalistic ball at his feet. 
 But even though the room was receding so rapidly 
 as a necessity in his career, he could not bring him- 
 self even now, just for one final visit, to enter it. 
 There was something about it ... 
 
 He sent word by Flanagan that he must see Lavis 
 at once, and would be waiting for him in the reading- 
 room. 
 
 The porter returned with the message that Mr. 
 Lavis couldn't possibly leave what he was doing for 
 two hours, and so would Mr. Sergison go down to 
 him? 
 
 Rudd had never confided to Lavis his dread of the 
 dissection branch of the curriculum : for he was not 
 given to parade his timidities. To refuse to go down 
 now would be impossible. 
 
 He pulled himself together and descended with the 
 epoch-making paper in his hand. He opened the 
 door, and was conscious of Lavis all alone at the end 
 of a long room, with slabs in it. Lavis was dressed 
 in an overall and was bending over something shape- 
 less and brown. The air was thick with a sour smell. 
 Rudd took a few steps into the room, felt a violent 
 nausea, and bolted. 
 
 A poor end to his triumph. 
 
 Outside the door he took in some fresh air and 
 leaned against the wall. An icy sweat broke out on 
 his forehead. How absurd to be so sensitive and 
 squeamish : over things like one's self too but with 
 the life out of them ! He really must make another
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL PINK SLIP 143 
 
 attempt. He mopped his brow and moved towards 
 the door. 
 
 Lavis came out, bringing the sour smell with him, 
 and took hold of him. 
 
 " Look here," he said, " you'll never make a doctor 
 if you can't stand this. Be scientific, man, and not 
 sentimental. There's nothing to it. ' In the midst of 
 life ' you know. Think of them as materia medica. 
 Come and see where we keep them in pickle." 
 
 " I couldn't," said Rudd. " It's stupid, I know, but 
 I couldn't. I shall be sick in a minute." 
 
 " That's all right," said Lavis. " Be sick. Then 
 you'll have got the first step done." 
 
 " You don't understand," said Rudd. " You're ele- 
 mental. I'm not." 
 
 " What did you want me for ? " Lavis asked. " I've 
 got to finish that leg before I can have any lunch." 
 
 " Nothing," said Rudd. 
 
 " Come on, what was it ? " 
 
 Rudd pushed the paper towards him. 
 
 Lavis read it carefully. 
 
 " Don't worry any more about dissecting-rooms," 
 he said. " The sooner you chuck medicine the better. 
 This is your line of country." 
 
 " Do you really think so ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " Of course. I'd always suspected it ; now I know. 
 You're too absent-minded for medicine," Lavis 
 added ; " that's another reason. Medicine wants 
 every thought : concentration. But I must finish those 
 blooming muscles. We'll talk about this later."
 
 144 LANDMARKS 
 
 Rudd went off in triumph : Lavis agreed as to his 
 future. But then came the reaction, for how could he 
 break with medicine? What of his mother: her 
 ambition for him, her sacrifice of personal income for 
 him? His father too? There would be a nice row over 
 that, especially as The Post-Meridian was a Tory 
 paper. No, he would have to go through with it, 
 unless well, unless the miracle in which we all 
 believe in our early years happens, as surely it must 
 soon. 
 
 Meanwhile, several times on his way to lunch, and 
 as he waited for lunch, he read the poem again. 
 
 At lunch he began to write another set of verses for 
 to-morrow's paper. 
 
 This was Thursday. On Saturday night the last 
 post brought a letter which he opened without en- 
 thusiasm, but which turned him into a smiling 
 Crcesus. It was from The Post- Meridian's manager, 
 who had much pleasure in enclosing a cheque for half 
 a guinea a beautiful pink slip made out to Rudd 
 Sergison, Esq. The favour of the return of the 
 enclosed receipt was requested. 
 
 Half a guinea ! This meant that if Rudd got a 
 poem accepted every day, he would make three 
 guineas a week, on which, with his allowance, he 
 could do anything. No more galleries and pits and 
 waiting in queues ; he would be able to book a seat. 
 He could dine at Simpson's at least once a week. 
 
 But of course a poem a day was a bit stiff. Say 
 four a week ; that would be an extra hundred a year.
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL PINK SLIP 145 
 
 He could write four a week on his head. He had 
 ideas for two at that moment. 
 
 Rudd set the cheque on the mantelpiece near the 
 gas and looked at it from time to time. It was a 
 guarantee of fortune a lovely mascot. 
 
 The next day being Sunday, Rudd was lunching 
 with Uncle Ben, and he showed him the precious 
 document. 
 
 " Only half a guinea ! " Uncle Ben said. 
 
 Rudd had thought it a magnificent sum. 
 
 " I should send the next thing to another paper," 
 said Uncle Ben, "and see if they are not more 
 generous." 
 
 " I have sent it to The Post-Meridian already," 
 said Rudd. " It seemed to me only decent to send 
 it there after taking that other." 
 
 " Heavens, boy, don't go about looking for decency. 
 Go to the best market," said Uncle Ben. "What's 
 this ? " he added, drawing a white paper from the 
 cheque envelope. 
 
 " That's the receipt," said Rudd. 
 
 Uncle Ben scrutinized it. " I shouldn't sign any 
 more of these," he said. " It says it is paying you 
 half a guinea for the copyright of the verses. That's 
 not fair. It's only the serial rights that you sell 
 them. Next time cross out ' copyright ' and see what 
 happens." 
 
 "I shouldn't like to," said Rudd. "It might 
 annoy them, and then they wouldn't take any more 
 verses." 
 10
 
 146 LANDMARKS 
 
 " Nonsense," said Uncle Ben. " Stick up for your 
 rights and they'll respect you. Even fear you." 
 
 (But one has to be older than Rudd to accept 
 that.) 
 
 " I don't think I shall," said Rudd. 
 
 " Then where are you if they like to bring out a 
 collection of Post-Meridian verses on their own ? 
 And where are you if you want to bring out a 
 collection on your own? You've lost your right to 
 include these." 
 
 " I can easily write some more," said Rudd.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 ANOTHER PROOF THAT IT IS NO WOMAN'S 
 BUSINESS TO TAKE AN INTEREST IN 
 HERSELF 
 
 IT was at a dance at the home of one of his fellow- 
 students that Rudd met Phyllis Dewsberry. 
 
 Rudd was not much of a dancer, and he was glad 
 when, after a few steps, his partner remarked that she 
 would prefer to sit out. Why total strangers should 
 suddenly grasp each other's bodies and twist and twirl 
 about to music, he had never understood ; nor would 
 he, he was certain, ever acquire any ease in the per- 
 formance. Upon the young men to whom evening 
 dress is as comfortable as a sweater, and small talk 
 as easy as the alphabet, and to whom every new step 
 comes naturally, he had ever looked with wonder and 
 admiration, if not with envy. 
 
 On realizing that he must not lean in isolation 
 against the wall throughout the evening, although 
 he would willingly have done so, Rudd had asked 
 his friend to introduce him to Phyllis Dewsberry, 
 because he thought her exceedingly pretty, and his 
 friend, as he led him towards her, had recommended
 
 148 LANDMARKS 
 
 her strongly as a girl of independence and humour 
 who was going on the stage ; but now that Rudd was 
 at her side, and bound to exert himself not a little 
 in conversation to atone for his defective "gambols, 
 he had more than his usual difficulty in finding 
 anything to say. 
 
 She was disconcerting too, for he had not seen any 
 of the plays on which she asked his opinion or read 
 any of the latest novels. 
 
 For a while therefore they fell back on the old 
 device of capping the praises of some friend in 
 common, who happened in this case to be their 
 hostess ; but the subject of the lateness of the hour 
 cropping up, and Rudd remarking that surely she 
 was not going yet, the fact emerged that Miss 
 Dewsberry, whenever she did go, was going alone. 
 She was one of those who do not believe in 
 escorts. 
 
 From this point it was an easy passage to the 
 discussion of Miss Dewsberry's career and strength 
 of character; her life at the dramatic school; her 
 latch-key courage. 
 
 Her eyes were violet and large, beneath long lashes, 
 and when she opened them full on Rudd, which she 
 did at judicious intervals, he felt a little dizzy. He 
 was not used to feminine fascination. 
 
 She was not, she said, a bit like other girls, and 
 had in fact a great difficulty in finding a girl friend. 
 There was something lacking in women, for her. Her 
 chief friends were men. She found them such good
 
 WOMAN'S BUSINESS NOT HERSELF 149 
 
 comrades ; pronouncing the first syllable to rhyme to 
 " rum " and the second to " mad." 
 
 Rudd winced a little, but the eyes atoned for 
 anything. 
 
 Having added a few details concerning her address, 
 Miss Dewsberry asked Rudd what he did, and on 
 Hearing that he edited The Scalpel at the hospital 
 she became more interested. It seemed that St. 
 Stephen's was her dear old Daddy's hospital and 
 The Scalpel always amused her. 
 
 She had just time to invite Rudd to come to tea 
 one day, or call for her at the dramatic school, when 
 her next partner appeared, with a proprietary air, and 
 led her away ; and Rudd escaped from the house. 
 
 Rather a conceited creature, he thought, on the 
 whole. Not his sort. Still, she was young and might 
 grow into sense, and she really was very pretty. 
 More than pretty, beautiful. 
 
 Three or four afternoons later, having nothing to 
 do and being conscious of loneliness, Rudd called at 
 the Dewsberry house about tea-time. It was in 
 Russell Square; Miss Dewsberry's dear old Daddy, 
 it seemed from the brass plate, still practised. 
 
 The servant who opened the door was untidy and 
 the hall was rather shabby. Daddy was doing none 
 too well, Rudd guessed. 
 
 Rudd was shown into a back sitting-room crowded 
 with wicker chairs, Liberty stuffs, photographs and 
 Japanese fans. Here were seated Miss Dewsberry at 
 a tiny tea-table, and in arm-chairs two dressy young
 
 ISO LANDMARKS 
 
 men who viewed Rudd with ill-concealed resentment. 
 Each had obviously been trying to sit out the other, 
 and this further competition was too bad. 
 
 Miss Dewsberry was all glances and sweetness ; 
 indistinct introductions were made; and a desultory 
 conversation, chiefly about plays and players, was 
 resumed. 
 
 Both men Rudd wondered whether they had yet 
 reached the " cumrad " stage seemed to be actors, 
 or on the way to that goal, and for the first time he 
 heard illustrious ladies of the stage docked of their 
 pretty Christian names and referred to as though they 
 were clerks. 
 
 The young man whose name had sounded like 
 Vash said that in the new piece at the Criterion 
 Wyndham had a good part but Moore was badly 
 fitted, while the young man whose name sounded 
 like Towse said that whoever could get Neilson for 
 a leading lady would do well. 
 
 Miss Dewsberry made an effort or two to switch 
 the general talk to books, for Rudd's benefit, but in 
 vain, and therefore drew his attention to her little 
 sanctum sanctorum, as she called it, and asked if she 
 were not fortunate to be thus situated. 
 
 Daddy, she said, was never in to tea ; it was his 
 only sure time for billiards at his club; her mother 
 had long been dead. 
 
 She had two sisters, but they had their own friends 
 and entertained in another room. For the most part 
 their visitors were women ; whereas she herself pre-
 
 WOMAN'S BUSINESS NOT HERSELF 151 
 
 ferred men. Somehow she couldn't quite account 
 for it men seemed to her more frank and under- 
 standing. She did not wish to say a word against 
 women, but for her, men were better companions, 
 even confidants. In short, cumrads. 
 
 It was then that Rudd made his first mistake. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " you told me that the other evening." 
 
 All his life he had difficulty in controlling this 
 habit of remarking on repetition in others. 
 
 She punished him by talking exclusively to the two 
 young men for a while. 
 
 None the less, when in despair one of the actors 
 rose and took his leave, Rudd remained. He would 
 rather have gone, but missed the moment. It is so easy 
 to do. The other man, looking him over searchingly, 
 decided that the struggle would be too long, and 
 also left. 
 
 " I'm glad they've gone," said Miss Dewsberry, 
 relenting. " They're dear good boys, but they can't 
 keep off shop. Two is the perfect number. Now 
 we can talk. Would you mind very much if I were 
 to smoke ? I find it soothes my poor nerves." 
 
 " I don't care much about seeing women smoke," 
 Rudd replied bluntly. 
 
 Miss Dewsberry flushed for a second. 
 
 " There you are, you men ! " she said. " Always 
 such critics of any kind of feminine courage. And 
 why shouldn't we smoke as much as you ? " 
 
 " No reason at all," Rudd said, a little surprised 
 at the expression which had passed across her face.
 
 152 LANDMARKS 
 
 " All I said was that I didn't much care about seeing 
 you do so. One has certain ideals in such matters, 
 and 1 for one don't think a cigarette makes a pretty 
 woman any prettier." 
 
 Miss Dewsberry smiled again, and again turned 
 her violet battery full on him. 
 
 " You'll grow out of that," she said. 
 
 " I daresay I shall," said Rudd, with a half sigh. 
 " I've grown out of lots of good prejudices already, 
 and fear that too many more will go. But I haven't 
 lost it yet." 
 
 "Then I mayn't smoke!" said Miss Dewsberry, 
 opening her eyes quiveringly and pleadingly on his 
 and drooping her mouth. 
 
 " Of course you may," said Rudd, lighting a match 
 for her. 
 
 " But you'll despise me," she said. 
 
 " No," he replied, and knew that an outpost had 
 gone. 
 
 She smoked, he noticed, very badly. It was 
 obviously a pose. 
 
 "Tell me about your writing," she said, settling 
 down among the " art " cushions. " I love to hear 
 young authors on their plans. I know quite a lot. 
 All such dear boys." 
 
 Rudd shivered. What had he let himself in for? 
 
 " Oh ! I've done nothing," he said. " Nothing but 
 the merest trifles. Skits and that kind of thing." 
 
 "But you will," she replied. "You must. I'll tell 
 you what," and she laughed gaily. " You must write
 
 WOMAN'S BUSINESS NOT HERSELF 153 
 
 a play with a leading part for me. And a great 
 idea ! we'll do it together. Won't we ? " She put 
 out her hand to clinch the bargain. 
 
 Rudd took it, knowing perfectly well that he would 
 do nothing of the kind. It was warm and soft, and 
 he held it a second too long. 
 
 " I want an emotional and yet gay part," she 
 continued. " Suitable for an actress who comes half- 
 way between Terry on the one side and Vaughan 
 on the other. That sounds frightfully conceited, 
 I'm afraid, but it was what one of our committee 
 said of me, and I just pass it on for what it's worth. 
 Sheer flattery, of course, but I think I know what he 
 meant. Do you ? " 
 
 Rudd said that he had never seen Vaughan. 
 
 " Well, you've seen Terry, of course? " Miss Dews- 
 berry asked. 
 
 Yes, Rudd had seen him. 
 
 " I mean Ellen Terry," she said. 
 
 Rudd said he had seen her too several times, but 
 never enough. 
 
 Miss Dewsberry turned her profile so that he could 
 examine it well. " Don't you notice a likeness ? " 
 she inquired. " There " she touched her nose 
 "just there. Isn't that like Terry's? Just a hint? 
 I'm so often told so that I feel there must be some- 
 thing in it." 
 
 " Perhaps there is," said Rudd, who was wearying 
 fast. As if a man went to see a woman in order 
 to hear her praise herself !
 
 154 LANDMARKS 
 
 And yet, such was the effect of the periodical 
 employment of the violet eyes, before Rudd left 
 it was arranged in some mysterious way, the origin 
 of which he could not afterwards distinctly recall, 
 that on Sunday next he and Miss Dewsberry, 
 who loved long country walks with a nice man 
 friend, should meet at Victoria Station at 9.25 for 
 a day on Leith Hill. 
 
 What an ass I am ! I shall be bored to death, 
 he thought to himself on the way home. She's a 
 silly creature. Why haven't I more strength of 
 mind ? Let's hope it rains. 
 
 But Sunday morning broke fine enough, and at 
 9.15 Rudd was waiting outside Victoria for the 
 lady's cab. She arrived in good time, dressed more 
 for Bond Street than for a country tramp, and 
 Rudd tingled under a flood of irritation. Her skirt 
 was long, and she held it high enough to disclose 
 clocked silk stockings and elegant shoes with soles 
 of the thickness of postage stamps ; on her head 
 was a picture hat. Rudd meanwhile was in a very 
 shabby grey flannel, and his plan had been to walk 
 from Holmwood to Guildford ! 
 
 As the platform loafers turned to look at them 
 he was ashamed and furious. No one, he had always 
 held, should attract attention. The art of dress was 
 to displease no eye and to draw no eye twice. 
 
 Miss Dewsberry, however, was all unconscious of 
 the sensation that she caused. She glowed with 
 health and the anticipation of a good day.
 
 WOMAN'S BUSINESS NOT HERSELF 155 
 
 With the assistance of Miss Dewsberry's ego, the 
 theatrical advertisements in the Sunday papers, and 
 a few objects seen from the windows, they conversed 
 until Holmwood, and here Rudd began to feel happier, 
 for the sun was warm, and a sweet south wind blew 
 over the common. 
 
 After all, she might be a silly ass, but the day 
 was good, and perhaps they would get through it 
 without trouble, and he would take jolly good care 
 never to repeat such an experiment. 
 
 They had some lunch at a cottage at Coldharbour, 
 and were soon on the top of the hill, with the weald 
 beneath them. Guildford had long been given up. 
 They were now to walk back to Dorking through 
 Wootton, but even that would be more than enough 
 for Miss Dewsberry's insane shoes. 
 
 It was perfect amid the heather in the sun. Miss 
 Dewsberry took off her picture hat and lay back 
 luxuriously, shading her complexion with her hands. 
 Rudd thought it was very decent of her not to mind 
 crushing her dress in this way. He had feared that 
 any comfortable siesta would be impossible. 
 
 For a long while they said nothing. Rudd 
 smoked a pipe blissfully ; Miss Dewsberry pondered 
 or dozed. 
 
 " I'm beginning to study Juliet this week," she said 
 at last. 
 
 Confound the woman ! Was this a place, with the 
 sun and the warmth and the heather, to talk about 
 acting?
 
 156 LANDMARKS 
 
 " Are you ? " he replied listlessly. Adding quickly, 
 " Isn't it lovely here ? " 
 
 " Ah yes ! " she said. " I believe I was made for 
 the country," she added. " It's so large and open 
 and splendid ; so different from town. I always feel 
 cramped and insincere in town. I should love to 
 act out of doors." 
 
 Rudd said nothing. Act out of doors ! The 
 vandal ! 
 
 " I have always been like that," she said. " I have 
 always loved the great silences ; the deep secrets of 
 the woods. The country is tonic to me. The funny 
 thing is I think of it almost as a fellow-creature." 
 
 Rudd foresaw the worst, and steeled himself 
 grimly. 
 
 " Almost as a cumrad," she concluded. 
 
 " I suppose that's a kind of pantheism," she added, 
 after a few moments. 
 
 " I suppose it is," said Rudd. 
 
 There was another silence, during which Rudd 
 was ruminating upon how he could decently suggest 
 starting for home. 
 
 " I wonder what you see in me ? " Miss Dewsberry 
 suddenly remarked, leaning on her elbow and turning 
 her eyes full on him. Rudd had been wondering 
 too. He avoided her eyes, and said nothing. 
 
 " I suppose it's the masculine side of me that 
 appeals to you," she continued, all unconscious of 
 his growing distaste and impatience. 
 
 " My frankness and acceptance of facts," she went
 
 WOMAN'S BUSINESS NOT HERSELF 157 
 
 on. " I expect it's refreshing to you not to be with 
 a woman who is always fishing for compliments and 
 saying insincere things just because she thinks they 
 are the sort of thing that a man likes. Isn't it ? I 
 know it's refreshing to me not to have a man 
 dangling round and saying how beautiful my eyes 
 are and idiotic things like that. You're not that 
 sort. You've never even noticed my eyes, I believe. 
 Have you?" 
 
 " I shouldn't say that," said Rudd, feeling the 
 liveliest dread of what was to follow, and knowing 
 himself no match for this sort of flank attack. 
 
 " I wonder if, without looking, you can say what 
 colour they are ? " Miss Dewsbury ruthlessly con- 
 tinued. " They might be green, for all you know. 
 Are they?" 
 
 " I I well, I'm afraid you've sized me up 
 correctly," said Rudd at last, diplomacy coming 
 slowly to his aid. " The fact is I am so horribly 
 self-centred. I know they're beautiful, of course," he 
 added, as a little kind-hearted sop. 
 
 The " of course " was a mistake. Miss Dewsberry 
 was vexed. 
 
 " Then, tell me why what interests me " (she 
 amended the abrupt opening) " is the question, What 
 brought us here together ? What was it in me that 
 led you to choose me so swiftly for a cumrad ? " 
 
 Rudd could easily have strangled her. 
 
 Instead he temporized. " Tell me what you found 
 companionable in me ? " he said.
 
 158 LANDMARKS 
 
 " Oh no," she replied. " Play fair. I asked you 
 first." 
 
 Rudd was in despair. There was nothing in her 
 that attracted him any more, and he would rather die 
 than confess now that once it was her eyes. 
 
 " Really," he said, " I I " 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Dewsberry. 
 
 " It's too difficult," he said. " This kind of thing is 
 made up of so much vagueness that words don't seem 
 any use . . ." 
 
 Miss Dewsberry said nothing for a while. Then 
 she rose and dusted herself and put on her hat. 
 
 " I think we had better be getting on," she said. 
 
 They returned to town practically in silence.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 RUDD MEETS HIS FATE 
 
 NO sooner did Rudd see Mr. Luard, the editor 
 of The Post- Meridian, than he felt his spell. 
 As a matter of fact, so did most young men, and 
 many older ones too. 
 
 The editor was sitting at his desk smoking a long 
 and very strong cigar. He was thin and tall, with 
 hair turning grey above a finely proportioned fore- 
 head. He was not what the Americans call a 
 " high-brow," but it was such a forehead as often 
 goes with men of swift intelligence. It was very 
 white. 
 
 Beneath it were two keen, quick eyes and a thin 
 aquiline nose. The eyes and the forehead were 
 slightly at variance : the eyes had mischief in them, 
 the forehead seemed to be the abode of clear thinking 
 and benevolence. Around Luard's mouth a quizzical 
 smile eternally played, but you could not see his lips 
 clearly because of his iron-grey moustache. 
 
 As a whole it was a face keenly alert rather 
 than sympathetic. You could imagine destructive 
 
 comments proceeding from those lips. Most of 
 
 159
 
 160 LANDMARKS 
 
 all it conveyed the impression that Luard's true 
 place was in a comfortable stall at the comedy of 
 life. 
 
 He was perhaps forty-three, but looked older. This 
 was partly because of a rooted reluctance to do any- 
 thing so banal as to go to bed. He was always the 
 last up at night, but nine o'clock found him at the 
 office as though he had slept like a child. He lived 
 principally on strong cigars. 
 
 Why he edited this or any paper, no one knew, for 
 he had ample private means, and was a bachelor and 
 fond of impulsive travel. Yet here, for the moment, 
 he was, a divine amateur (as some one once called 
 him), and the paper betrayed his presence, for every 
 one was a few per cent, above himself with this in- 
 fluence in the place, while into most of the literary 
 articles Luard dropped a few sparkling sentences 
 which otherwise would never have been there. His 
 erudition was remarkable, and no one could ever 
 forget the occasion when he came in on the morning 
 after the Westminster Play with the epilogue trans- 
 lated in full into heroic couplets, a trifling task of the 
 small hours. 
 
 It is necessary only to add that Luard dressed as 
 a country gentleman who frequented the best tailor, 
 and there he is. 
 
 " How are you ? " he said to Rudd. " Glad you 
 were able to come. Have a cigar." 
 
 Rudd was fascinated by him. This was his first 
 editor, and how different from what he had expected !
 
 RUDD MEETS HIS FATE 161 
 
 What that was he could hardly have said, but cuff- 
 protectors came into it 
 
 Luard asked Rudd a few questions as to his plans. 
 " Don't let me unsettle you," he said, " but of course 
 you've got the knack. You would be useful in an 
 office. Here, for example, there are lots of things 
 you could do. We rather cultivate the light side. 
 But if you're going to be a sawbones you must stay 
 there, of course. No sense in pitching all those fees 
 to the dickens." 
 
 Rudd said he was certainly in for medicine, but he 
 was rapidly receding from it. 
 
 " Of course there's a lot of disillusion about 
 journalism," said Luard, " but it's a lark too ; other- 
 wise I shouldn't be in it, I can promise you. Fleet 
 Street has most of the romance nowadays. If you 
 decided to chuck medicine, and you cared for my 
 advice, it would be to act as a reporter for a year 
 or two. They have the fun ! Hang about with a 
 receptive mind ready for anything, and go off like an 
 arrow when your instructions are given you. That's 
 the game. It's almost knight-errantry: knight-errantry 
 with a microscope ! But I expect you're rather past it. 
 You've begun to write, and few reporters ever do that." 
 
 Rudd kindled to this talk. Luard was not an 
 enthusiast: his nature was ironical; but his words 
 had the effect of enthusiasm on his listener. Rudd 
 would never make much of a doctor ; of that he had 
 been dimly certain for some time. Now he knew it 
 absolutely, 
 ii
 
 162 LANDMARKS 
 
 He looked round the room. Everything fascinated 
 him. Luard first of all ; Luard's clothes ; his huge 
 generous cigar-case, like a valise, on the desk ; the 
 great scissors ; the blue pencil ; the mass of proofs ; 
 the papers scattered everywhere ; the piles of books 
 for review on another table. 
 
 Suddenly a head appeared at a side door. 
 
 " Sorry," said the head, " I thought you were 
 alone." 
 
 " I shall be free directly," said Luard. 
 
 " Come and have a hundred up." 
 
 " Most assuredly," said Luard. 
 
 The head disappeared, and Luard turned again to 
 Rudd ; but another door opened, and a grimy artisan 
 entered, with a long slip in his hand. 
 
 " Well, Jack, what is it ? " Luard asked. 
 
 " This 'ere," said Jack. 
 
 "What about it?" Luard asked. 
 
 "Nothing," said Jack, who was very throaty and 
 brusque and had all the appearance of being blind. 
 " Nothing. Only libel." 
 
 "Let me see it," said Luard, and ran his bright 
 keen eyes down the lines. 
 
 " You're right," he said. " Who sent it up ? " 
 
 " The Boss," said Jack. 
 
 " Good," said Luard. " He shall hear of it in the 
 morning. Here, have a drink," and he presented 
 Jack with half a crown. 
 
 Jack shambled out. 
 
 " That's the real editor," said Luard. " The head
 
 RUDD MEETS HIS FATE 163 
 
 printer. If this had got in it would have cost us a 
 couple of thousand. That's the worst of amateur 
 proprietors. Well, don't forget what I've said. By 
 the way," he added, " have you any particular line ? " 
 
 " Not that I know of," said Rudd. 
 
 "That's a pity," Luard remarked. "The good 
 journalist knows something about everything, and 
 everything about something. At least that used to be 
 the rule. Never mind, there's no vacancy just now," 
 he added, perhaps conscious that it was hardly the 
 game to deprive ^Esculapius of such a lieutenant. 
 " But if any were to occur may I send you word ? " 
 
 Rudd assured him most cordially that he might. 
 
 " Meanwhile let me have something now and 
 then. I hope they're paying you all right ? We're 
 a mean lot here." 
 
 Rudd said that he thought the paymentwas splendid. 
 
 " You won't think so long," said Luard. " Good- 
 bye." 
 
 He accompanied Rudd to the door and shook his 
 hand warmly. 
 
 Rudd descended the stairs conscious that there was 
 nothing he would not do for that man : conscious 
 also that this was the life for him. 
 
 He returned in the depths to the Hospital. That 
 journalism was his destiny, he knew, but it would 
 distress his mother, the strength of whose desire to 
 see him a healer of men was only equalled by the 
 thoroughness with which she detested daily papers 
 and all their sensationalism. The evening papers
 
 1 64 LANDMARKS 
 
 especially, with their steady passion for winners ; and 
 betting the curse of the country. 
 
 Rudd took his perplexities to Uncle Ben. 
 
 " Well," said Uncle Ben when Rudd had finished, 
 " what do you want ? Why do you come to me ? " 
 
 " I want advice," said Rudd. 
 
 "Rubbish," said Uncle Ben. "You don't want 
 advice you want support in a line you have decided 
 upon." 
 
 "But what about mother?" Rudd asked. "She'll 
 be so disappointed, and it was her money too." 
 
 " You can't help that," said Uncle Ben. " There's 
 been a mistake; don't make it worse by being too 
 weak to stop it." 
 
 " You really think I ought to chuck medicine ? " 
 Rudd exclaimed in delighted surprise. 
 
 " Of course," said Uncle Ben. " There's no question 
 about it. But we must be a little gradual. When 
 do the holidays begin ? " 
 
 Rudd told him. 
 
 " Very well, then, tell your friend Luard that you 
 will be free on that date, and tell your mother that 
 you have accepted a holiday task and are earning a 
 little money. By the end of the holidays, if you keep 
 her informed as to your progress and so on, she will 
 be prepared for you to continue in the new line 
 altogether. At any rate the shock won't be so 
 severe." 
 
 " What a brick you are ! " Rudd said. 
 
 " We're always bricks when our advice chimes with
 
 RUDD MEETS HIS FATE 165 
 
 the wishes of those who want it," Uncle Ben replied. 
 " That's easy. The difficulty is to be thought a brick 
 when one gives unpopular counsel." 
 
 But fate, as it happened, was more of a brick even 
 than Uncle Ben. 
 
 Thus. Luard had an elderly father. This father, 
 who had long been in poor health, died unexpectedly. 
 Luard was called away, and his place of editor taken 
 by some one under him, a promotion which made a 
 vacancy in the writing department. Luard had but 
 an hour or so to arrange about these displacements, 
 and one of his telegrams was to Rudd. 
 
 " If you could possibly manage to be at the office 
 at nine o'clock to-morrow morning, it would be a 
 great help to us in an emergency," he telegraphed. 
 
 There was but a month of the term to go, and 
 Rudd did not hesitate in writing the reply : " Expect 
 me at nine." 
 
 He slept little that night for fear of being late. 
 The next morning he went to the office, expecting 
 to stay, if at all, for a fortnight. He remained for 
 seven years.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 RUDD VISITS OLYMPUS 
 
 WALKING up Fleet Street one morning, Rudd 
 ran into Phil Bendy, whom he had not seen 
 since he left school. Now, though not more than six 
 or seven years older, Bendy was a raffish Bohemian, 
 with a cloak over his shoulder instead of a coat, and 
 a sombrero. He resembled, in fact, a stage poet, and 
 attracted amused eyes. 
 
 In an adjacent bar Phil told his story. He was a 
 journalist and a dramatist; he had already had two 
 plays accepted for provincial production, and not a 
 few well-known actors and actresses were his friends. 
 He also knew some eminent writers, and he reeled 
 off their names and foibles with a familiarity which 
 made Rudd, who had merely read their books, gasp. 
 Why should Bendy have been admitted to such 
 terms of intimacy? What could they see in him ? 
 
 Rudd expressed the wish that he, too, might be 
 an observer, however unobserved and silent, of literary 
 eminence and in particular of the great Voaden, the 
 author of Night and the Stars. 
 
 Phil replied that as it chanced nothing was easier.
 
 RUDD VISITS OLYMPUS 167 
 
 " Come as my guest," he said, " to the next dinner of 
 the Vagrants and you'll see Voaden. He's the guest 
 of the evening. Every one will be there." 
 
 Rudd accepted. 
 
 "You'll have to belong," Phil continued. "It's 
 jolly useful, I can tell you. There are lots of men 
 there who can help you." 
 
 " I don't see why they should help me, a perfect 
 stranger, who has done nothing," Rudd replied. 
 
 " Yes, they will, if you make up to them," said Phil. 
 
 " I don't think I shall do that," said Rudd, " but 
 I'd like to see it once, anyway"; and so it was 
 arranged. 
 
 This club, which was famous among the literary 
 dining societies of London, met periodically in a large 
 room in one of the great middle-class restaurants, 
 ate, drank, talked and made speeches. 
 
 For the dinner itself Rudd cared nothing. It was 
 indifferent and scramblingly served, and since Bendy 
 devoted himself to some distinguished luminary on 
 his left and Rudd's right-hand partner had neighbour- 
 ing friends, he was left to himself and to the private 
 identification of the company by means of a printed 
 chart. 
 
 Of course he sought first for Voaden, and was 
 pleased with his appearance. He looked quiet and 
 strong. 
 
 Then he fixed the others one by one and had the 
 usual shocks. Why we should always anticipate such 
 beauty in the literary physiognomy is a marvel ; but
 
 168 LANDMARKS 
 
 a greater marvel is our reluctance to relinquish that 
 expectation. 
 
 "So that's Guildford, is it?" he muttered, after 
 carefully counting the seats from the chairman to be 
 sure of being right. Guildford was one of the first 
 poets of the day and as different as Rudd could 
 imagine from the full-faced gourmand who was 
 eating with anxious energy. 
 
 Journalists, authors, artists, agents and publishers 
 formed the company, with a few distinguished and 
 humble guests scattered among them. It was a 
 representative literary gathering, and yet had blind 
 Samson been led in, and bent his shoulders to the 
 repetition of his great coup, London would have 
 gone on very much the same as before. A few men 
 lower in the scale would have been pushed up to fill 
 vacancies, but the public might never have suspected 
 the change. The little men would appear to have 
 become bigger: that is all. Many men are second 
 rate till somebody dies. 
 
 After dinner there were speeches. First the health 
 of the guest, which was rather fulsomely proposed by 
 one who had been host on these occasions so often 
 that he had become an expert at the game. Voaden 
 replied with simple cordiality. 
 
 Other speeches followed, mainly facetious and in 
 the Cockney accent at that time affected by humor- 
 ists ; and lastly, the toast of the guests was given, a 
 list of the more distinguished ones being read out 
 together with the names of the members who had
 
 RUDD VISITS OLYMPUS 169 
 
 been fortunate enough to land such valuable prizes. 
 Rudd, to his immense relief, was not mentioned. 
 
 Bendy did not speak, but he spent much time in 
 moving about the room, and now and then brought 
 some one over to Rudd to be introduced, whispering 
 to Rudd in what way this or that man was eminent 
 and likely to be of service. 
 
 " My friend Sergison," Bendy called Rudd, adding 
 all kinds of not too scrupulously exact embroideries, 
 such as " assistant editor of the Post-Meridian" " the 
 man who does all the best things in the Post- Meridian" 
 and so forth. At first Rudd denied these compli- 
 ments for one prefers that praise of oneself, however 
 warm, should be well-founded but after a while he 
 let them go. Not because he was reconciled to 
 accepting their unveracity, but because he realized 
 that Bendy's ways were known. 
 
 " Come along," said Bendy as the company began 
 to disperse, "we're going round to Card's rooms. 
 I've fixed it up. Voaden will be there, and you'll 
 have a chance of speaking to him." 
 
 "Who is Gard?" Rudd asked. 
 
 " Gard ? I say, Standish," said Bendy, turning to 
 a big man in a black beard who was at his side, " my 
 friend here wants to know who Gard is. That's 
 good, isn't it ? " 
 
 The big man looked at Rudd as though he were a 
 new species of animal. " Gard," he said, " can be 
 described in a moment. Gard is the most useful 
 little beast in England."
 
 1 70 LANDMARKS 
 
 " I must remember that," said Bendy. 
 
 " You're sure to," said the big man with a caustic 
 laugh. " The only part of it that you'll forget is the 
 authorship. Give me a royalty on it anyway." 
 
 " We're going round to Card's now," said Bendy ; 
 " are you coming ? " 
 
 " Of course," said the big man. " By the way, I 
 think I could improve on that definition. Make it, 
 The most useful worm in Europe." 
 
 " Much better," said Bendy. " But come along." 
 
 Rudd had yet to learn that it is no essential part 
 of a literary man's scheme of life to hold a brief for 
 his host. 
 
 He was rather tired of the whole evening and 
 drew back. 
 
 " Come along," said Bendy. 
 
 " But I don't know Card," said Rudd, " and from 
 what you've sr.'d I don't much want to." 
 
 " You'd much better," Bendy urged. " I know him 
 well enough, and you're with me. Besides, Voaden's 
 going." 
 
 Rudd did not care for the arrangement; but he 
 wanted to be nearer Voaden, and so he allowed 
 himself to drift, and in twos and threes the party 
 walked to Gray's Inn, where Gard lived. 
 
 After climbing many rickety uncarpeted wooden 
 stairs, they entered a comfortable but stuffy flat, the 
 walls of which were invisible beneath either books 
 or pictures. All the furniture, except the chairs, was 
 littered with signed photographs. Every writing
 
 RUDD VISITS OLYMPUS 171 
 
 man of mark seemed to have given Gard his portrait 
 with an affectionate inscription. 
 
 Whisky and a number of siphons stood on a side 
 table ; cigarettes soon turned the air grey ; and Rudd, 
 feeling himself utterly an impostor and intruder, 
 made a solitary tour of the walls while the others 
 talked, Voaden being the centre. 
 
 The pictures were chiefly engravings and etchings 
 by Piranesi, Whistler, Haden, Rembrandt, Me'ryon, 
 with a sprinkling of French coloured prints after 
 Steinlen, Forain and Willette. The books were 
 largely French novels and presentation English 
 copies. Rudd took down one or two. " To my dear 
 old Victor " ; " Dear Victor, this is my best book and 
 the first copy is for you " ; " To Victor Gard with the 
 author's sincere thanks " such were the inscriptions. 
 What there was about his unknown host to inspire 
 such warm feelings, Rudd could not guess, nor was it 
 ever explained, save by a certain facile gratitude in 
 the literary mind when taken somewhat unawares : 
 a consciousness that ink is thicker than water. For 
 all that anyone could discover of Card's helpfulness 
 was rather shameless logrolling and the speedy in- 
 formation to the logrolled that Card's was the hand 
 that had done the service. Be that as it may, he 
 sunned himself in the midst of these visible tokens of 
 his power and utility, and every morning the postman 
 brought another. 
 
 Having at length spoken to all his important guests, 
 Gard, who in spite of his flunkeyism had a genuine
 
 172 LANDMARKS 
 
 sense of hospitality, approached Rudd, inquired as to 
 the success of his last book and informed him that 
 he was drinking nothing. Rudd explained who he 
 was, and was warmly shaken by the hand and made 
 welcome to " Poets' Corner," as Gard called it, varying 
 that phrase with " Open House," and rather hoping 
 for some reference from Rudd to " Garde joyeuse " or 
 " Guard of Honour," even although Bendy had been 
 overdoing such quips, but not getting it. 
 
 At this point Rudd, being again left in the isolation 
 due to one who had not yet written a book, ceased to 
 prowl, and found an obscure seat in which to listen to 
 the feast of reason and flow of soul. 
 
 Arthur Blampey, who had been pointed out to 
 Rudd at the dinner, the author of the famous farce 
 Crossed Checks, having obtained silence, proceeded 
 to tell a story which, if we all wore no clothes and 
 took natural functions for granted, would not have 
 been in the least funny, but under the present scheme 
 of civilization was convulsing. Gard was then re- 
 minded of something similar; and then Bendy; and 
 so on until the room was in a roar. 
 
 Rudd, being a medical student as well as a man, 
 naturally was not a stranger to such humour, but 
 took no part, having himself none of the powers of a 
 raconteur (in which, to be exact, some other of the 
 narrators were not strong), while he had always been 
 more interested in facts than stories. What was sur- 
 prising him was that such a party as the present 
 differed no whit, in their mirth, from a company of
 
 RUDD VISITS OLYMPUS 173 
 
 clerks or commercial travellers ; and also that men of 
 such true talents should have such abundant reper- 
 tories and be so happy in emptying t'uem. Even his 
 special hero Voaden contributed one anecdote, but 
 Rudd called to his aid the memory of the grosser 
 jests of Shakespeare and forgave him. 
 
 Voaden, rising from his seat and drifting round 
 the walls, came a little later to Rudd's remote 
 chair. 
 
 " And what do you write ? " he asked in pleasant 
 half-ironical tones. 
 
 Rudd tremblingly replied that beyond journalism 
 he had done nothing that is, in print. Not yet, 
 but 
 
 "Then you're here under false pretences," said 
 Voaden. " Don't let our host know that or he'll 
 send for the police." He laughed. 
 
 " I was brought," Rudd explained. 
 
 " I know it," said Voaden. " So was I. Terrible 
 places these. Nothing but talk, talk, talk the curse 
 of London." 
 
 Rudd wondered why then he came, having still to 
 learn that literary men spend a great part of their 
 lives in bearing such crosses. 
 
 The great man sat down. "You want to write 
 books?" he said. "Then I suppose you will. But 
 it is a pity to give up other work unless you feel 
 absolutely driven to. You'll get so tired of yourself, 
 for one thing ; always turning it into copy. But if 
 I can help you, let me. Send me some of your
 
 174 LANDMARKS 
 
 things. Remember now, I mean it. Send them to 
 my club, the Garrick." 
 
 Rudd flushed and promised. 
 
 " Let me see," said Voaden, " I haven't got your 
 name." 
 
 Rudd wrote down his name and address. 
 
 " Rudd Sergison," said Voaden. " Not bad for a 
 title-page. You know mine perhaps ? " 
 
 " Mr. Voaden," said Rudd. 
 
 " No : Voaden. No Mister-y among fellow-artists," 
 he replied. "Don't forget that. Good night. I've 
 had enough for one evening." 
 
 Rudd also left and walked home, meditating on 
 the likeness between great men and smaller men.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 SURNAME ONLY 
 
 RUDD was glad to be alone; he had had more 
 than enough of Bendy. 
 
 Bendy was glad to stay on and improve the occasion. 
 He did not often get inside men's rooms, although he 
 had walked to their doors with any number. 
 
 Rudd also wished to think over the evening. He 
 had enjoyed it but little. The dinner was poor ; the 
 oratory was thin or conceited ; his heroes had dis- 
 appointed him, and he was not wholly happy about 
 his unwarranted invasion of Card's rooms, little 
 thruster as he knew Gard to be. 
 
 But there was always Mr. Voaden's friendliness to 
 remember with pleasure. Mr. Voaden might have 
 been slightly more seasoned than he had wanted to 
 find him : just a little hard-bitten ; but probably that 
 was the price of knowing so much about the machinery 
 of human nature. 
 
 Rudd would have liked to have posted some manu- 
 scripts to Mr. Voaden that very night, but it would be 
 a little too swift. Better wait till to-morrow. Besides, 
 there was a difficulty. 
 
 '75
 
 176 LANDMARKS 
 
 The difficulty had not disappeared the next morn- 
 ing when Rudd awoke, and he carried it about with 
 him most of the day. And then, when evening came, 
 and he pulled out his little collection of manuscripts 
 and went through them to see what would be best to 
 submit to the great man, the difficulty loomed larger 
 than ever. 
 
 Having at last made his choice (and he had better 
 have sent all) Rudd set his teeth and attacked it. 
 In other words, he took a sheet of paper to write the 
 letter to accompany them, and in writing it to begin 
 it on equal terms ! That was the rub equal terms ! 
 Try as he might Rudd could not cut out the " Mr." : 
 could not write " Dear Voaden." 
 
 Yet the Mr. had been meticulously forbidden, 
 " Literature is a fellowship," Mr. Voaden had again 
 said on the stairs. " There should be no Mister-y in 
 a trade union. Do you understand?" And Rudd 
 had murmured something which might have been 
 acquiescence. 
 
 And now the Mr. was a tyrant. "Dear Mr. 
 Voaden," " My dear Mr. Voaden " : it insisted upon 
 being there. Again and again Rudd strove seriously 
 to omit it, but always he failed. His pen kicked and 
 refused. 
 
 And then when at last, as an experiment, he 
 brought himself to write it, just on an odd sheet of 
 paper, he was overcome with shame at the result. 
 " My dear Voaden " how could a youngster like 
 himself address the author of The Sea and the
 
 SURNAME ONLY 177 
 
 Stars with such effrontery ? Perhaps " Dear 
 Voaden," without the patronizing possessive " My," 
 would be more natural, less monstrous. But no, that 
 looked almost worse. And yet he had been told to 
 send the things and commanded to adopt a familiar 
 form. 
 
 Rudd tried again and again, and at last evolved 
 this compromise : 
 
 " MY DEAR MR. VOADEN (I am very sorry but I 
 find it impossible to leave out the Mr.), Here are 
 a few of the MSS. which you so kindly offered to 
 look at. 
 
 " With very many thanks for your kindness to me, 
 "I am, 
 
 "Yours sincerely, 
 
 " RUDD SERGISON " 
 
 This letter he put into the big envelope, and then 
 discovered that he had no stamps. 
 
 In any outlying part of London, when you are 
 without stamps late at night, there is only one thing 
 to do ; and that is to go to a public-house, order 
 something to drink, and ask to be obliged in your 
 difficulty. On the Continent they have the excellent 
 and, on the face of it, not immoral custom of permitting 
 tobacconists' shops to serve as sumptuary post-offices, 
 a system that greatly simplifies life ; but the English 
 have yet to learn to be thus sensible. On the other 
 hand, with an eye perhaps to correcting the embarass- 
 ments caused by the Postmaster-General's want of 
 enterprise, the licensing authorities had been very 
 12
 
 i;8 LANDMARKS 
 
 generous in the supply of public-houses in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Rudd's rooms, so that he had plenty to 
 choose from when an unstamped envelope forced 
 thirst upon him. 
 
 It often happens that the first public-house having 
 no stamps, one must go to another, and even 
 another ; and this was Rudd's uncomfortable experi- 
 ence on that eventful night Not that he had any 
 objection to public-houses when he was with a friend ; 
 but he had not yet learned to face alone a barmaid with 
 the assurance that is one of the most admired traits 
 of the perfect Londoner. Barmaids terrified Rudd, 
 as, most of his life, he was terrified by the articulate 
 and confident. In return he treated them as some- 
 thing more than ladies. 
 
 Three glasses of bitter beer was it necessary for 
 Rudd to consume on this occasion before he could 
 get the three penny stamps that his precious package 
 seemed to demand. By this time he was a different 
 Rudd from that who had written the apologetic letter. 
 The national beverage had made him strong. 
 
 Hurrying home, for it was nearing midnight, at 
 which hour his nearest box was cleared, he tore up 
 the first letter and in a bold hand wrote another one. 
 " My dear Voaden," he began without a tremor, and 
 rattled on to the end in the same fine free way. 
 This he hastened to post and was soon in bed and 
 asleep. 
 
 He awoke next morning horror-struck at what he 
 had done ; but he had done it. There was no going
 
 SURNAME ONLY 179 
 
 back now. The great author of The Sea and the 
 Stars had lost his Mr. 
 
 And yet had he? Rudd shivered as he remem- 
 bered that it is one thing to write " Voaden " so 
 familiarly, and another to say it. No stimulant could 
 becomingly help him there ; and the day would surely 
 come when he would have to face that ordeal. 
 
 He dressed in perplexity. What difficulties life 
 presents !
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 IN WHICH THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS 
 MORE THAN ONCE 
 
 RUDD was shown into Voaden's drawing-room, 
 where Mrs. Voaden sat alone by the fire. She 
 was occupied with some form of embroidery. 
 
 Mrs. Voaden was a large lady, with a placid 
 humorous face, and she instantly made her guest at 
 home. Her husband would be down directly, she 
 said. He was always late. It was a habit with most 
 men, and would continue to be until they tried their 
 hands at cooking the dinner themselves, and took 
 pride in having it ready to time, and then saw un- 
 punctuality spoiling it. Still, clever people must be 
 forgiven, she supposed. Her husband, at any rate, 
 always expected to be forgiven, and often was. 
 Novelists demanded preferential treatment and pos- 
 sibly deserved it, since it was their mission to 
 beguile poor human nature and take people out 
 of themselves. Any way, whether they deserved it 
 or not, they usually got it, in a way that grocers and 
 bakers and artisans the really useful fellows did 
 not.
 
 THE UNEXPECTED 181 
 
 So she ran on, half ironically, her busy fingers 
 stitching the while. 
 
 It was a comfortable room, with a bright fire and 
 plenty of easy-chairs and a few good water-colours. 
 A portrait of Voaden, by some dashing new Gallicized 
 hand, was over the mantelpiece. Rudd leaned back 
 and listened luxuriously to this clever lady, who 
 seemed at once to be so shrewdly outside the game 
 and yet in it too. 
 
 What, she asked, was Rudd's particular ambition 
 as a writer ? She had seen some of his things her 
 husband had shown them to her, as he always did 
 and they were rather good, she thought, but lacking 
 in courage. Rudd, she felt, should go more directly 
 to life and not wear blinkers so steadily. Blinkers 
 were a mistake. No need to tell everything; but 
 one should be aware of it. She didn't want him to 
 be another Zola, but his avoidance of facts was 
 against his work. " But then you're so young," she 
 said. 
 
 Rudd listened in a state of rapture. Her censure 
 mattered nothing; the delight was to be criticized 
 and discussed by a wise woman of the world, such as 
 this, at once so kind and so searching and the wife of 
 the great Voaden. 
 
 " The point is," she continued, " what do you want 
 to be ? Do you want to be a novelist ? " 
 
 Rudd thought that he did, some day, but he seemed 
 incapable now of any but short flights. 
 
 " You haven't any very strong ambition?" she asked.
 
 1 82 LANDMARKS 
 
 He thought not That was one of his great 
 defects. 
 
 " It may come," she replied. " You look like 
 developing late. It seems to me that what you want 
 to do now is not to write at all, but observe and 
 collect. You're at a hospital, aren't you ? " 
 
 Rudd said that he was at St. Stephen's. 
 
 " Then what a chance you have ! " she replied. 
 " Experience washing right up to your feet, day and 
 night. If you take my advice, you won't worry about 
 your writing at all, but be thorough in your living." 
 
 What magnificent counsel ! thought Rudd. 
 
 " But of course my husband may tell you differently, 
 and he knows better than I do," she said. 
 
 Not he, thought Rudd, and at this moment Voaden 
 entered, full of apologies, and dinner soon began. 
 
 Voaden and Rudd drank claret ; Mrs. Voaden 
 water. She was at least ten years older than her 
 husband, Rudd guessed, and his attitude to her was 
 very pretty and amusing half solicitude and half 
 gentle chaff. He called her Sheila. 
 
 The talk was mainly literary, and a great many 
 authors were passed under review. Rudd observed 
 that Mrs. Voaden's estimate often differed totally 
 from her husband's, and that to this Voaden had no 
 objection. They agreed to differ. Brought up, as 
 Rudd had been, in a house where the only opinion 
 was the male one, this new situation filled him with 
 surprise. Not only was Voaden not angry about it at 
 the table, but there were no signs that he would be
 
 THE UNEXPECTED 183 
 
 angry afterwards, in private, when such differences 
 are usually settled. How odd it all was ! 
 
 Mrs. Voaden left them to their cigars, and it was 
 then that Voaden turned to Rudd's manuscripts and 
 said a little about them. But it was very obvious 
 that they had not made any impression upon him, 
 and his encouragement was perfunctory. Rudd did 
 not mind: he had a friend with insight and sympathy 
 in the next room. 
 
 " But writing's a dog's life anyway," said Voaden. 
 " Plucking one's heart-strings, day and night, for 
 money. I advise no one to take it unless he has 
 private means, or some trick at the drama to make 
 his real money easily. Write, by all means, but do 
 something else as well. Be a doctor, and write in 
 your leisure." 
 
 Rudd felt that Voaden meant to be kind, and was 
 kind, but evidently he had something on his mind 
 probably the book on which he was at work and 
 could give Rudd only divided attention. Still, it 
 was awfully decent of him to have asked to see the 
 things at all and to have invited him to dinner. 
 Rudd was not disappointed in the least. 
 
 Excusing himself on the plea of having letters to 
 answer, Voaden left Rudd alone with Sheila, and 
 they had a long talk. She said very little about 
 herself, but drew from Rudd a thousand details of 
 his life ; and since all men, not only the youngest, 
 like to be coaxed by a woman into autobiography, 
 Rudd was very happy.
 
 1 84 LANDMARKS 
 
 He came away filled with enthusiasm for a life of 
 close imaginative observation and experimentalism, 
 and then, a thousand or so years hence, when he was 
 middle-aged, he would write such books about it all ! 
 
 " Every Sunday night," Mrs. Voaden had said, 
 " we have open house from about half-past eight on- 
 wards. My husband likes to talk and hear talk, and 
 as he is so busy it is his only chance of meeting many 
 of his friends. Won't you come? You will find 
 some lions, but you needn't roar yourself. You can 
 sit in a corner with me." 
 
 The next Sunday evening, therefore, Rudd made 
 his way again to Hampstead and was shown into a 
 house crowded with men and women, all roaring. 
 For some time he was unable to reach his host or 
 hostess and quite unable then to do more than shake 
 their hands. It was all rather disconcerting, especi- 
 ally as he had in mind Mrs. Voaden's promise cf 
 another talk in a corner. But his reward came, for 
 the evening having passed somehow, and all the guests 
 having gone but two or three who were with Voaden 
 in his study, Rudd settled down by the fire with Mrs. 
 Voaden ; and she asked him to tell her all that he 
 had been doing. 
 
 He ought to have seen that she was very tired, 
 but he was not yet old enough to know that the 
 second duty of a guest is to leave early (the first 
 being to arrive to time); and she was too kind to 
 bid him go. 
 
 He was in the midst of an account of some trivial
 
 THE UNEXPECTED 185 
 
 adventure when the other remaining guests came into 
 say good night. 
 
 Voaden accompanied them to the gate to whistle 
 for a cab. 
 
 " I wish you would see that he has his hat on," 
 said Mrs. Voaden ; " he catches cold so easily," 
 
 Rudd went out for that purpose, and noticing that 
 Voaden was properly protected, returned, just in time 
 to see his hostess hurriedly half fill a tumbler with 
 whisky and drain it. 
 
 For the moment he did not quite realize what this 
 meant, or he would have stepped aside and waited so 
 as not to be seen ; but the full force of it came upon 
 him when he observed the odd expression on Mrs. 
 Voaden's face as she put her finger to her lips to 
 enjoin secrecy. She laughed, too a foolish, self- 
 conscious laugh. 
 
 Rudd felt hot and ashamed. He had discovered 
 a streak of clay in his idol. How he wished Voaden 
 would come back and let him get away before she 
 began to lose more dignity. 
 
 Rudd had been brought up a strict teetotaller, 
 and though he was so no longer he still retained 
 much of his early attitude of horror not only to 
 drunkenness but even to drink. For a woman to 
 take too much was always the unpardonable offence ; 
 while to take any, except at meals, was strange and 
 disquieting. All drunkards were terrible people, to 
 be avoided and condemned ; but a woman . . . ! 
 
 He said nothing, but stood stupidly silent while
 
 1 86 LANDMARKS 
 
 Mrs. Voaden was rapidly passing under the influence 
 of the neat spirit. 
 
 Voaden returning saw the situation in a moment. 
 He glanced at Rudd and the tumbler, and walking 
 to his wife he offered her his arm. 
 
 "Bedtime, I think," he said gaily. "You're tired, 
 dear. She's had a long evening," he explained to Rudd. 
 
 But Mrs. Voaden was not amenable. She denied 
 the tiredness, and only after much persuasion was she 
 got out of the room, Rudd having to assist physically. 
 The thought that he should ever be grasping an inert 
 arm of this gifted lady and helping to get her to 
 her room like a sack of coals ! 
 
 Returning alone, he stood by the fire perplexed and 
 abashed. What a tragedy for Voaden, he thought. 
 And who would have dreamed it ? No wonder there 
 was that abstracted air about Voaden, with this 
 horror always hanging over him. How little we 
 know of anyone. What would be done ? he wondered. 
 Would Mrs. Voaden be sent away? There were 
 homes for dipsomaniacs would she be sent to one 
 of those? And again he thought what a tragedy 
 for Voaden ! For himself too in a way, for he had 
 been anticipating so much pleasure and profit from 
 visits to this wise lady. But now, of course, she would 
 never want him to see her again. 
 
 And how strange to have drink accessible when 
 one was like that ! Surely the right thing to do was 
 to remove temptation. In Voaden's place Rudd 
 would be a teetotaller.
 
 THE UNEXPECTED 187 
 
 He wondered if he ought to go, but decided it 
 would be kinder to stay and wring Voaden's hand 
 just to show how sorry he was for him and how he 
 understood. And yet probably Voaden would hate 
 to meet any eye to-night, with this shame upon him 
 poor broken fellow. It would be kinder to go. 
 
 Rudd was creeping out to get his hat and coat 
 when Voaden came briskly in, mixed himself a glass 
 of whisky and soda, and offered Rudd one. 
 
 " Well," he said, laughing, " to think that you 
 should have met the skeleton in the cupboard as 
 quickly as that ! Poor Sheila ! " he went on, " she's 
 been so good for such a long time, but I suppose she 
 couldn't resist it this evening. It was when I went 
 out, I suppose. I oughtn't to have gone. Poor old 
 girl. She's such a brick to me. I don't believe 
 there's a finer woman in the world, and true as steel. 
 The only mistakes I've made were when I didn't take 
 her advice. She's always right. If only she'd stick 
 to wine 1 shouldn't mind, but spirits are bad for her. 
 Poor old girl ! Well, here's luck." 
 
 Voaden accompanied Rudd to the gate. "Come 
 again soon," he said. " Sheila's taken quite a fancy . j 
 you. Come next Sunday, at any rate ; but come to 
 dinner too. Good night." 
 
 Come again ! Had Rudd heard aright ? Truly he 
 was in a strange world.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 PITY'S BILL COMES IN 
 
 RUDD, having been calling on Mrs. Voaden at 
 Hampstead, was walking down Fitzjohn's 
 Avenue a little before seven, on his way to Swiss 
 Cottage station, when a few yards ahead of him, 
 through the dusk, he noticed a girl come out of the 
 gate of one of the large houses and stand irresolute on 
 the pavement, looking this way and that in dismal 
 perplexity. 
 
 She was slight and graceful, and Rudd stopped 
 to light a cigarette in order to observe her more 
 closely. 
 
 After a few moments' more irresolution, she made 
 a little after-all-what-does-it-matter gesture and 
 began to descend the hill with listless steps. 
 
 Rudd saw the whole thing in a flash. Her hat 
 told hflfi that she was a servant, and he realized that 
 she was probably from the country, that this was her 
 evening out, and she had nowhere to go and no one 
 to go with. A wave of pity for her and all her class 
 thus stranded swept over him and in a moment he 
 was at her side. 
 
 188
 
 PITY'S BILL COMES IN 189 
 
 " Excuse me," he said, joining her and taking off 
 his hat. 
 
 She turned a half-alarmed wistful little face towards 
 him. 
 
 "Yes," she gasped, "what is it?" 
 
 " Please don't be frightened," Rudd said, " please 
 don't ; but could I do anything for you ? " 
 
 " No, no," the girl hurriedly replied. " Why should 
 you?" she added. 
 
 " Well," said Rudd, " I don't know why, but I was 
 afraid you're not very happy and I thought perhaps 
 you would let me look after you a little." 
 
 She drew back. Old stories of London and its 
 wicked ways were crowding into her memory. 
 
 " Please don't be frightened," he repeated. " I'll 
 go right away at once if you wish it. Only I 
 had a sort of idea that you had the whole even- 
 ing in front of you and didn't know how to 
 spend it." 
 
 She looked at him in surprise. " How did you 
 know? " she asked. 
 
 " I just guessed it," he said, " and I thought perhaps 
 you might care to go to a music-hall or theatre. . . . 
 I'm free too, you see. But I'm frightening you. 
 It's all right, I'll go on. Good night." 
 
 " Oh no," said the girl. " You're very kind," she 
 added. " Are you sure you only guessed it ? " 
 
 She looked at him searchingly, and he was aware 
 of pure grey troubled eyes of liquid candour. 
 
 " Honour bright," Rudd said. "It wasn't so very
 
 190 LANDMARKS 
 
 difficult. You looked a little as though you were 
 from the country and lost in London, you know. 
 Now, then, is it a bargain ? Shall I take care of you 
 just for this evening? " 
 
 w But you're a gentleman," she said simply. 
 
 " I hope so," said Rudd. 
 
 " And I'm only a servant," she added. 
 
 "Oh," said Rudd, who had not quite taken her 
 meaning and always hated class distinctions, "if it 
 comes to that, we're all servants. I know / am. I 
 have to begin work at nine every morning. But this 
 evening I'm free, and I know so well what it is to be 
 lonely in London. I'm from the country too. But 
 look here. I know what you thought, for a moment 
 at any rate. You thought I was one of those swine 
 who walk about waiting to find girls alone. To prove 
 I'm not, and merely felt an impulse to try and make 
 you a little happier, here's five shillings. Do take it, 
 like a good girl, and go to a pit somewhere, and I'll 
 run on." 
 
 " Oh no, I couldn't," said the girl ; " I can't go to 
 plays alone. I don't care for them alone. Besides 
 I have to be in by ten." 
 
 "Very well, then," said Rudd, "let me look after 
 you till ten." 
 
 And the girl prettily acquiesced. 
 
 No sooner had she done so than he wondered why 
 on earth he had been so foolish as to speak to her at 
 all, but having now begun he continued. 
 
 They got on a bus at Swiss Cottage and bowled
 
 PITY'S BILL COMES IN 191 
 
 down to Baker Street, talking with some difficulty 
 the while. 
 
 The girl's name was Rose. She came from Norwich 
 and had been in her present place only three weeks. 
 She had an attractive East Anglian accent. 
 
 Rudd was wondering where he could possibly take 
 her, for the necessity of her early return put any play 
 out of the question, and a music-hall seemed rather 
 silly, for this was before the days of the two-perfor- 
 mances-a-night system, and the convenient cinema 
 was not yet. And then he caught sight of Madame 
 Tussaud's and proposed that. 
 
 " Oh yes," Rose said, " I've always heard about 
 Madame Tussaud's. I'd like to go there." 
 
 They went first to a little Italian restaurant close 
 by, in Baker Street ; but the meal was a failure, for 
 Rose refused to drink anything, either from the vestiges 
 of suspicion or because she was a teetotaller, and Rudd, 
 who wished himself miles distant, had difficulty in 
 knowing what to say. Norwich was useful for a few 
 minutes, as he had once been there for an afternoon ; 
 but the Norwich which interested him the Norwich, 
 that is, of Borrow did not exist for her. They met, 
 however, on common ground in the Cathedral and its 
 Close, and again in the market-place; but there parted 
 once more. 
 
 Of books she knew nothing, and he did not like 
 to ask her much about her present employers ; but 
 she talked freely of her family, her married sisters 
 and so forth.
 
 192 LANDMARKS 
 
 "What would you have done if I hadn't been so 
 rude and spoken to you ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 "You weren't rude," she said, "you were very kind. 
 I don't know why you should be so kind. I should 
 have walked about, and looked in the shops in the 
 Edgware Road, and bought some sweets, and then 
 have walked back again." 
 
 " You must make some friends," Rudd said. 
 
 " I expect I shall in time," she replied. 
 
 " But how dull for you," he said, " until you do ! " 
 
 " It's all right," she said simply, and again, young 
 as he was, he marvelled at the calm acquiescence in 
 monotony that women can display. 
 
 At Madame Tussaud's they got on better. Here 
 Rose quickly showed signs of animation. The great 
 brightly lit galleries, the handsome costumes, the im- 
 posing personages counterfeited all these delighted 
 her. 
 
 " Isn't it wonderful ? " she said again and again. 
 " Fancy being among all these kings and queens and 
 grand people ! " 
 
 Before the Sleeping Beauty she gripped Rudd in 
 a moment of excitement at the marvel of mechanical 
 respiration, and after that he held her arm as he 
 piloted her from one figure to another and explained 
 who they were. 
 
 " That's President Carnot," he said, and related the 
 circumstances of his assassination. 
 
 "They're all murdered, French Presidents, aren't 
 they ? " Rose asked.
 
 PITY'S BILL COMES IN 193 
 
 Royalties pleased her most, and she would have 
 given Tennyson in his study no second glance but 
 for hearing that he also was an East Anglian. 
 
 " Born at Somersby, was he ? " she exclaimed. 
 " Why, that's where my Aunt Clara used to 
 live," and she returned and studied the poet's 
 lineaments. 
 
 " Isn't it extraordinary? " she said again and again. 
 " Fancy Aunt Clara belonging to the same place ! I 
 shan't forget that in a hurry." 
 
 Poor Sala might never have existed. 
 
 Rudd was not bored now. He was not only con- 
 scious of amusement in thus introducing a country 
 girl to the celebrities of the world, but furthermore he 
 saw an article in it ; for it was his first visit to the 
 waxworks too. The evening was not wholly thrown 
 away. 
 
 On each of the statesmen, soldiers, orators, Rudd 
 said a few words. 
 
 " What a lot you know ! " Rose exclaimed. 
 
 What a lot any of us can know, Rudd thought, if 
 we are in the right company. 
 
 " Not really," he said aloud. 
 
 " Oh yes. You're clever ! " Rose replied. " You're 
 not in a shop, I'm sure." 
 
 " No," said Rudd, " not exactly." 
 
 " Tell me what you do," Rose said. 
 
 Rudd told her that he was a journalist, and he had 
 to name the paper, so that, should she ever require 
 one, she might buy that.
 
 194 LANDMARKS 
 
 " Is your name put to what you write ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " No," said Rudd, but he had to say what it was, 
 none the less. 
 
 In the Chamber of Horrors she was wide-eyed and 
 a little clinging; and then apologetic. Details of the 
 French Revolution impressed her shudderingly ; she 
 had never heard them before ; but she could tell Rudd 
 more about one or two of our native murderers than 
 he knew. 
 
 "Well," said Rudd as they drew near the house 
 in Fitzjohn's Avenue, "have you had a pleasant 
 evening ? " 
 
 " Very," she replied. 
 
 " And I wasn't a monster after all ! Still," he 
 added, " you must be careful of strange men in the 
 streets, you know." 
 
 " I know," she said. " I think," she went on when 
 they were fifty yards from her gate, " you had better 
 leave me here." 
 
 " Very well," said Rudd, putting out his hand. 
 " Good night." 
 
 Rose looked at him shyly, with the ghost of an 
 invitation in her little white face. 
 
 Rudd's heart beat faster but he did not move. 
 
 Rose took his hand and shook it limply. 
 
 " Good night," she said, " and thank you," and she 
 moved off. 
 
 I wonder if she wanted me to kiss her, Rudd 
 thought as he descended the hill. I wonder if
 
 PITY'S BILL COMES IN 195 
 
 she expected it. I wish I knew more about 
 them. 
 
 I'm glad I didn't kiss her, he thought later. That 
 would have made him just like the others. It 
 wouldn't have been playing the game. 
 
 I did play the game, he assured himself. Yet he 
 had held her arm in Madame Tussaud's. But that 
 was only friendliness, he assured himself. 
 
 A fortnight later Rudd found at the office the 
 following letter. It was written in a cramped hand 
 on pink paper with a coloured device of flowers stuck 
 on it. 
 
 " DEAR MR. SERGISON, Forgive me for writeing 
 to you but I should so dearly like to see you again. 
 I have not been able to do what you said and make 
 frends and my evenings out are more lonely than 
 ever after the lovely evening we had together. I 
 hope you do not mind my sending this to your 
 newspaper but I had no other address and felt that I 
 could not go any longer without seeing you again. I 
 shall be at Swiss Cottage from six thirty to seven 
 hopeing for you on this Thursday, and again next 
 Thursday, so do come on one of them. Your 
 respectful and affectionate 
 
 " ROSE ADDISON " 
 
 "P.S. You need not take me anywhere. I just 
 want to see you." 
 
 Rudd read and re-read this document.
 
 196 LANDMARKS 
 
 To-morrow or Thursday. He decided not to go. 
 
 He retained this decision firmly until he had dined, 
 which he did that evening rather more liberally than 
 usual, and he then asked himself why he should not 
 
 go- 
 Poor girl, he thought. The only decent thing to do 
 was to see her and tell her that he could not see her 
 again. 
 
 He woke in the night and decided firmly that it 
 would be a very serious mistake to go. 
 
 In the morning he was convinced that to go would 
 be foolish and wrong. 
 
 After lunch he came to the conclusion that he 
 would go, but would not stay. Poor girl. 
 
 He bought a box of chocolates and was just 
 leaving his rooms when Lavis entered. 
 
 " Hullo," said Lavis, " where are you going ? " 
 
 Rudd's misgivings had returned and he welcomed 
 the opportunity of a second opinion. 
 
 " Look here," he said, and produced the letter. 
 Lavis read it. " You must tell me everything," he 
 then remarked. "Promise that or I won't hear a 
 syllable. In matters of this kind one must tell all 
 or nothing." 
 
 "Very well," Rudd said. "There's nothing to 
 be ashamed of except a perfectly humane impulse," 
 and told the story. 
 
 " You didn't kiss her ? " Lavis inquired. 
 
 " No. I most carefully didn't." 
 
 " Did you squeeze her hand ? "
 
 PITY'S BILL COMES IN 197 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Nothing?" 
 
 "The only thing I did was to hold her arm for 
 a few minutes at Madame Tussaud's, just to guide her 
 from one figure to another." 
 
 "Hm!" 
 
 " But that was only friendliness," said Rudd. 
 
 " Only friendliness ! That's the trouble. Remember 
 that one man's meat is another man's poison. What 
 is mere friendliness to you can be electricity to 
 another, especially when she is an ignorant country 
 girl and a nice-talking, nice-mannered London gentle- 
 man devotes an evening to her. You'll have to stop 
 this, my friend ; this self-indulgence masquerading as 
 pity. Be as pitiful as you like, but keep it to your- 
 self. Don't go about injuring other people with it." 
 
 " Injuring ! I was trying to be kind." 
 
 " No doubt, and you were kind ; most mischievously 
 kind. I don't question your motives: I only want 
 you to see that virtues can need as much control 
 as vices. They're first cousins, anyway. Consider 
 what you have done. You see a girl in what strikes 
 your idle fancy as a pathetic situation. In other 
 words, she has an evening out and doesn't know how 
 to spend it. Being at loose ends yourself, you force 
 yourself upon her, with the result that she is now 
 in love with you. Any friends in her own class that 
 she might have made, she has lost, because you 
 are her standard and they are below it. And now 
 you are going about saying ' Poor girl, Poor girl.' "
 
 198 LANDMARKS 
 
 " But what am I to do ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " Do ? Nothing. Burn the letter and forget her." 
 
 " But I can't bear to think of her waiting there for 
 me and my never coming." 
 
 " You'll have to think of it. That's your punish- 
 ment. Luxurious self-indulgence must be paid for." 
 
 " But the poor girl ? " 
 
 "The poor girl will wait this Thursday and will 
 wait next. Then she'll tell her story to a fellow- 
 servant, and the fellow-servant will reply with a 
 somewhat similar incident and the remark that no 
 men are to be trusted, and the incident will gradually 
 close." 
 
 " Poor girl ! " said Rudd. 
 
 But he had the strength of mind not to go to Swiss 
 Cottage.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 IN WHICH RUDD IS SUDDENLY CALLED 
 UPON TO DENY A PROPHET AND 
 INSTRUCT HIS FELLOW-MEN 
 
 RUDD had not been long at The Post-Meridian 
 when on arriving one morning he was told that 
 Mr. Luard wanted him at once in the editor's room. 
 
 As he walked thither he searched his memory for 
 indiscretions in recent paragraphs; but he could 
 think of none. 
 
 " It's all right," said Luard reassuringly, as Rudd 
 entered with his expression of alarmed surprise. 
 " It's not the sack. You don't get the sack from me. 
 Thank Heaven, there's a sacking department. I've 
 just heard that neither Ward nor Castle can come 
 to-day; they're both down with influenza. So I 
 want you to do the leader." 
 
 " The leader ! " Rudd gasped. 
 
 "Yes, it's quite easy. It'll take you about an 
 hour. I'd do it myself only there are too many 
 other things : proofs, and so on. You know perhaps 
 that Enderby made an important speech last night." 
 
 Rudd had to admit that he didn't know. 
 
 199
 
 200 LANDMARKS 
 
 Luard groaned. " Haven't you read the papers ? " 
 
 " Yes, but I was hunting for other things." 
 
 "Well, he made a speech last night. Here it is. 
 Read it carefully. Then go for him. Let him have 
 it. The two points to bring out are that disarmament 
 could never be practical, the best preparation for peace 
 being preparedness for war ; and that the disestablish- 
 ment of the Church would be an iniquity. Let him 
 have it. Don't spare him." 
 
 Rudd retired to the next room, sacred to old Castle, 
 his pipe and his daily castigation of the Liberal 
 party, and studied Enderby's speech. 
 
 Enderby had always been his man, and every word 
 of it seemed to him wise and true. Rudd had no 
 politics beyond a sentimental leaning towards those 
 that were talked at home in his early years, and a 
 general feeling that the word Liberal carried with it 
 finer aspirations than the word Tory. 
 
 It was not then partisanship which made him agree 
 with the speech, but genuine intellectual sympathy. 
 And now he must riddle it, prove it wrong root and 
 branch, hold up its author as a charlatan and 
 sentimentalist. In short, he must let Enderby 
 have it. 
 
 Rudd's hand hovered over the paper. He had no 
 notion how to begin. And the cheek of it, too ! 
 It was not even as if he had been to Oxford or 
 Cambridge. He had no right at all. 
 
 And then by an inspiration he wrote the word 
 " We," and found that all was easy. From that
 
 RUDD DENIES A PROPHET 201 
 
 corporate pronoun, which removed the responsibility 
 from himself and divided it between the whole staff, 
 even to the office-boy downstairs, he derived comfort, 
 strength and an eloquence that surprised him. He 
 let Enderby have it 
 
 Luard made a few corrections on the proof, 
 toning down some of the expressions and generally 
 lightening the punishment. 
 
 "Not a bad start," he said, "but a little on the 
 severe side. You young devils are so extreme." 
 
 Rudd gasped. He had not fully realized the 
 position as he wrote. 
 
 " Do you think," he forced himself to ask easily, as 
 he rilled his pipe, " do you think that kind of article 
 has any influence ? " 
 
 " Devil a bit," said Luard. " Not in London, at 
 any rate. People read leaders for the pleasure of 
 agreeing with them. If they can't agree, it is the 
 journalist who is wrong." 
 
 Rudd felt easier; his apostasy was beginning to 
 assume the guise of a joke. 
 
 " I hope Castle will be better to-morrow," he said. 
 " There's no fun in leader-writing." 
 
 " There's an extra guinea though," said Luard. 
 
 The cap and bells fell from the head of his apostasy 
 with a crash. He thought of Judas. . . . 
 
 After a perplexed afternoon Rudd wrote a note to 
 Luard. 
 
 " DEAR LUARD," he wrote, " I hope you won't ask 
 me to write any more leaders, except on social
 
 202 LANDMARKS 
 
 subjects. I don't want to say things I don't believe. 
 If this attitude of mine puts you in any hole I am 
 very sorry, and anything else you like to give me to 
 do extra I will do with pleasure and without pay- 
 ment; it is only going against my conscience that 
 I kick at." 
 
 The next morning the two leader-writers were still 
 away, but Rudd was not sent for. It was understood 
 that Mr. Luard was writing the article himself. 
 
 Just as Rudd was leaving, a note was brought to 
 him with these words on it : " Lunch, Marble Hall, 
 I.O. F. L." 
 
 "Now let's talk," said Luard when they had 
 finished eating. " Your letter was all right, of course. 
 But it was also all wrong. It was all right for a 
 millionaire individualist who has time and money to 
 keep his soul in cotton wool, but rubbish for a young 
 journalist with his career to make. I respect you for 
 writing it, and possibly despise myself for never 
 having done the same. But looking at it nakedly, 
 what does it mean ? " 
 
 He fixed Rudd with his bright commanding eye. 
 
 " What does it mean ? " he repeated. 
 
 Rudd, whose one longing was that nothing should 
 lose him the intimacy of this magnetic adventurer, 
 began to wish he had done nothing. 
 
 " It means," said Luard, " that you are proposing 
 to get through life without making any use of life's 
 essential lubrication." 
 
 " What is that ? " Rudd said.
 
 RUDD DENIES A PROPHET 203 
 
 " Compromise," said Luard. " To come down into 
 Fleet Street as a Liberal to earn your living on a 
 Tory paper, and then start a conscience and flout 
 compromise, is the richest thing I ever heard of." 
 
 " Why shouldn't there be absolutely honest 
 papers ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " Who is to write them ? " Luard asked. " Where 
 are the absolutely honest men? There's no such 
 thing, except possibly on a desert island. How 
 could there be? It was because honesty was im- 
 possible that compromise came in. Compromise is 
 the sure ground between the quicksands of conscience 
 and the truth. I suppose you think me as immoral 
 as yourself for editing the bally paper at all." 
 
 " But you're on that side," said Rudd. 
 
 " Yes, but I'm not quite so lost to reason as to 
 think everything they do perfect, and everything the 
 others do poisonous ; and yet I let that impression get 
 out. Do you consider me an outcast in consequence ? " 
 
 " Of course not," said Rudd ; " there are degrees." 
 
 " You are compromising," said Luard. 
 
 " I mean that you are more a Tory than a Liberal," 
 said Rudd, " and therefore it is not so cynical of you 
 as it would be for me, who am more a Liberal than 
 Tory." 
 
 " But you don't mind writing non-political things 
 for the paper and taking its money? " said Luard. 
 
 " No," said Rudd. 
 
 " More compromise," said Luard. " You are getting 
 on a dangerous tack for yourself as the complete
 
 204 LANDMARKS 
 
 letter-writer. Your attitude now is that a little com- 
 promise is all right, but too much is wicked. Well, 
 that is the whole secret. The duty before every 
 citizen is to decide for himself how little compromise 
 he can do with. Having decided that, if he pre- 
 scribes a slender enough allowance and does not 
 exceed it he will go to heaven ; if he employs too 
 much he is a scoundrel." 
 
 " I don't know that I go in for it at all," said 
 Rudd. 
 
 " My dear fellow," said Luard, " for goodness' sake 
 clear your eyes. Why, you are compromising all 
 the time. Your letter to me was a compromise. If you 
 had really felt as you say you would have resigned. 
 Your willingness to go on is compromise. When 
 you said just now that the steak was enough done 
 for you, you compromised, because I know you like 
 it much less red. To be as much in civilization as 
 you are, and to be getting on so well, proves that you 
 are a master of compromise." 
 
 " How beastly ! " said Rudd. 
 
 " Not at all," said Luard. " How sensible and 
 normal. All the same, you won't be asked to write 
 another leader, don't fear." 
 
 Rudd felt no elation at the decision. 
 
 " I hope it's wholly because of that rotten letter," 
 he said, a new suspicion darting into his brain. 
 
 " I shan't tell you," said Luard. " No," he added, 
 " we'll go on as we were. Stick to your odds and 
 ends. And," he continued, " stick to your convictions
 
 RUDD DENIES A PROPHET 205 
 
 as to personal integrity as long as you can. They're 
 all right so long as you don't exalt them on too high 
 a pedestal, and deposit too many wreaths before 
 them. But they're more important in real life than 
 in party journalism. It's quite easy to keep political 
 depravity in a water-tight compartment and be a 
 gentleman the rest of the time. Remember that. I 
 don't care how many leaders you write giving your 
 old Liberal idols beans; but never tell a girl you 
 love her if you don't. That's much more a test of 
 character." 
 
 " There's one thing that puzzles me about all this," 
 said Luard in conclusion, " and that is why, with 
 feelings like yours, you brought yourself to write 
 the article at all. Why didn't you tell me all this 
 yesterday ? " 
 
 " Because," said Rudd, " it takes me a long time to 
 collect myself in any given emergency. Besides," he 
 added, " a man often has to go wrong before he can 
 go right." 
 
 On the next Saturday Rudd found the extra 
 guinea for his leader in his little envelope. His 
 original idea had been to return it, but Luard's 
 homily had changed that intention. He could not, 
 however, he felt, keep it, and therefore compromised 
 by sending it anonymously to St. Stephen's Hospital.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 THE WEDDING 
 
 AFTER several attempts to be let off, which 
 were all in vain, Rudd consented to act as best 
 man for Doran, whom he had not seen since his 
 Hospital days. Doran he had always liked for his 
 simplicity and good-humour and unselfishness, and 
 his letters were now so warm in their protestations 
 of friendship and wishes that Rudd, and Rudd only, 
 should support him on this most sacred and eventful 
 moment of his life, that it would have been hard for 
 even a strong-minded person to say no. Rudd was 
 not exactly weak-minded, but he always said no 
 with difficulty. 
 
 There are, for retiring dispositions, sufficient 
 objections to all weddings, even when one attends 
 purely as an invited observer, and until invitation 
 cards bear the words, " No presents, by request," one 
 of these objections will persist. With many people, 
 however, even more irksome is the problem of clothes. 
 A present can reduce itself to a matter of writing a 
 cheque ; whereas new clothes have to be tried on 
 and worn. Some day, perhaps, the cards will also 
 
 of
 
 THE WEDDING 207 
 
 add, " Old clothes, by request," and then how simple 
 life will be ! 
 
 Upon these two difficulties was superimposed, in 
 Rudd's case, anxiety as to a best man's duties. 
 Having inquired from those who know, he ascertained 
 that not only should he buy gifts for both the bride 
 and bridegroom, of whom to-day he knew very little, 
 not having seen Doran for long, while the bride, save 
 for certain modern indications, he did not know from 
 Eve, but that the acquisition of railway tickets and 
 the distribution of tips fell to his lot too. Some 
 bridegrooms, he was told, were scrupulous to repay 
 the sums thus disbursed, but others had been known 
 to forget, either because they made forgetfulness in 
 such matters a cult (as men can), or from the oblitera- 
 tive effects of so momentous and crowded a day. 
 
 Best men really out to do the thing well, Rudd 
 was further told, gave presents to the bridesmaids 
 too, and very often ultimately married one of them. 
 Jolly information for the diffident and not too rich. 
 
 Having at last had yes wrung from him, with a 
 tardiness which no sensitive bridegroom would have 
 tolerated (although it must be admitted that this is a 
 period in a man's life when his good fortune his 
 astounding luck the friendly operations of his star, 
 setting him gloriously apart from all other males 
 can stand between himself and the finer perceptions), 
 Rudd was plunged into an agony of reluctance from 
 which he never emerged until after the ceremony. 
 
 His preliminary misgivings were not diminished
 
 208 LANDMARKS 
 
 by learning that the bride lived, or rather resided, at 
 Chislehurst, where things are done in style ; that her 
 father was a stockbroker of vast wealth ; and her 
 mother a dame of the Primrose League, which in 
 those days was a more active and alarming organi- 
 zation than it now is. 
 
 Everything, in fact, was as bad as could be; for 
 Chislehurst has no patience with the shy; and the 
 paternal wealth meant a lofty standard in bangles ; 
 and dames of the Primrose League, with lawns across 
 which they were accustomed to move, sumptuously 
 gowned and hatted, with outstretched entertaining 
 hands, had for Rudd a peculiar terror. He saw in 
 his mind's eye the bride's mother as a priestess of 
 that great awe-inspiring class who always know what 
 to do, what to say, and how to set others in their 
 right place. Amid the many types that peopled his 
 most dreaded regions, masterful women of the world 
 were always prominent. So it is to be young enough 
 still to meet trouble half-way ! 
 
 With Rudd's adventures at the jeweller's, the 
 tailor's, the haberdasher's, the hatter's, and (on behalf 
 of the bridegroom) at Cook's and the florist's, we 
 have no concern. Sufficient for us that on the 
 morning of the wedding (for he had summoned 
 enough determination and guile to avoid the pre- 
 ceding night's dinner and reception) he alighted at 
 Chislehurst station, and, amid something like a 
 demonstration from an assembled crowd, brought 
 together by the white bow on the coachman's whip,
 
 THE WEDDING 209 
 
 entered a brougham at Chislehurst station in a new 
 frock-coat which, although it had fitted at the tailor's, 
 was now too tight under the arms and too high at 
 the collar, and a new tall hat which already suggested 
 that the Spanish Inquisitors for all their ingenuity 
 with machinery had by no means exhausted the 
 possibilities of torture. Thunder being in the air, 
 he was moreover moist all over, and his hands stuck 
 to his new gloves. Why, he asked himself again and 
 again, why cannot a man and a maid be joined 
 together without entailing so much anguish and 
 discomfort upon others ? 
 
 Doran was staying with friends, and to their house 
 Rudd was driven. The brougham turned in at a 
 drive, and a footman hurried out to open the door. 
 Doran, once so simple, was now signally among the 
 swells ! Rudd was led through a hall which smelt of 
 expensive flowers, to a drawing-room which smelt of 
 more expensive flowers, and asked to wait a moment 
 or so and Mrs. Vansittart would be down. He sank 
 into a chair and wiped his hands. Banging doors, 
 bells, rapid footsteps and voices on the stairs testified 
 to the excitement of the day, and now and then total 
 strangers in new clothes burst in and either apolo- 
 gized and disappeared or shook Rudd by the hand 
 and disappeared. After half an hour of this Rudd 
 was informed that Mr. Doran having had his bath 
 would like to talk to him as he dressed. 
 
 Doran had not changed much. A little stouter, 
 thicker generally about the throat that was all. He 
 14
 
 210 LANDMARKS 
 
 greeted Rudd with affection, and finished dressing to 
 the accompaniment of thanks to his old friend for 
 standing by him on this wonderful day. 
 
 "Now, come down and have some fizz," he said, 
 " and see my hostess. We mustn't be late. Bride- 
 grooms ought to be there first, waiting." 
 
 They therefore descended the stairs to the hall, 
 where some one had considerately set out a row of 
 champagne bottles and glasses. (In the confused 
 phantasmagoric impression which the day left on 
 Rudd's mind, as a half-remembered dream or 
 hypnotic trance, champagne corks and polished 
 broughams had a prominent place.) Here Rudd 
 was formally introduced by Doran to all the total 
 strangers in new clothes whose hands he had already 
 shaken or whose intrusion he had pardoned. He 
 now also at last met Mrs. Vansittart, whose imminent 
 presence had been threatened so long ago, and found 
 her to be a capacious lady in heliotrope silk who 
 welcomed him cordially and informed him that after 
 all the dear Canon would be able to perform the 
 ceremony. 
 
 " We are all so delighted," she said ; " so much 
 more interesting than if it had been merely the 
 vicar." 
 
 Yet not more binding? Rudd was tempted to ask, 
 but did not. 
 
 The hall seemed absolutely filled with new dresses, 
 and the scent of kid gloves was now added to that 
 of the hot-house flowers, in a blend that was almost
 
 THE WEDDING 211 
 
 overpowering. There were also, moving jocularly 
 among the frocks, a number of assured young men 
 with better fitting coats than Rudd's and sleeker 
 coiffures. That was many years before young men 
 with trivial heads smeared their hair back to their 
 coat collars and sold motor cars ; but these were the 
 same type in an earlier phase. The word nut was 
 not yet invented, but they were nuts none the less. 
 
 One of the more assertive of these young men 
 having indicated facetiously that time was up by 
 remarking that eight o'clock was tolling and the 
 prison chaplain awaited the doomed man, Rudd and 
 Doran entered one of the thousand broughams in the 
 drive and were driven swiftly towards the church, the 
 passers-by stopping to get if possible a glimpse 
 within a carriage whose white ribbon gave promise 
 of containing such treasure as a bride, a bridegroom, 
 or a wedding guest. 
 
 Doran was perfectly master of himself. " Nothing 
 to worry about in a wedding," he said. " One's ready 
 for that. You know where you are. It's popping 
 the question that's the devil ; working yourself up to 
 it, wondering if you really want to, and so on. 
 That's where the wear and tear comes in. I feel as 
 fit as a fiddle to-day. By the way, you've got those 
 tickets all right, haven't you ? " 
 
 Rudd expressed the hope that Miss Endsleigh was 
 similarly cool and collected. 
 
 " I don't expect so," said Doran. " Women are 
 different. She'll be as brave as she can, though.
 
 212 LANDMARKS 
 
 She's an angel an absolute angel. By the way, 
 are you engaged ? " 
 
 " No," said Rudd. 
 
 " You ought to be," said Doran. " Every man 
 ought to be. I wouldn't change places at this 
 moment with any man living." 
 
 They reached the church gate in good time, and 
 threaded their way through the avenue of sightseers, 
 and so into the crowded building, which smelt even 
 more strongly of hot-house flowers and kid gloves 
 than the Vansittarts' hall ; and down the aisle to the 
 vestry, where Rudd was introduced to the dear 
 Canon and several subsidiary clergy. And then they 
 returned to the church proper, and took up their 
 places by the chancel steps to await the angel and 
 her family. Doran was still perfectly at his ease, 
 nodding to various acquaintances and assuring them 
 by ocular demonstration that he had not yet lost the 
 ring. 
 
 And then a tremor ran through the new dresses 
 and new hats, indicating that the angel's brougham 
 had arrived ; the organ burst forth ; and a moment 
 or so later a willowy musliny figure was to be seen 
 leaning on the arm of a short, florid, whiskered 
 gentleman in a white waistcoat who had in his time 
 eaten turtle soup and meant to eat it again ; and the 
 procession of angel, bridesmaids and bride's family 
 began its rustling advance upon the chancel steps, 
 on the top of which was now standing the dear 
 Canon supported by inferior local ecclesiastical talent.
 
 THE WEDDING 213 
 
 The organ ceased. Gradually the rustling subsided 
 to a hush ; the hush became a silence ; the service 
 began. 
 
 The dear Canon read the opening advices in their 
 entirety : he was not one to pander to false delicacy. 
 It was Rudd's first wedding, and in consequence 
 portions of this exordium came rather suddenly upon 
 him. Some nice-minded brides, or their mothers, are 
 at pains to induce the priest to omit a line here and 
 there from these crude opening sentences ; and often 
 have their way. Others tolerate them as a quaint 
 survival. Others again do not mind. Others, like 
 the dear Canon, agree with the sentiments, and like 
 courageously to express them. But however they are 
 considered, Rudd found a certain piquancy in catch- 
 ing so large a company of conventional equivoking 
 English people in their best clothes, forced to listen 
 to physical facts. 
 
 And now came the crucial moments, which force 
 seriousness on even the most light-headed. 
 
 " Wilt thou," said the dear Canon, bending unctu- 
 ously over the couple and addressing Doran, " have 
 this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together 
 after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matri- 
 mony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour and 
 keep her in sickness and in health ; and forsaking all 
 others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both 
 shall live ? " 
 
 Not yet had Rudd seen the bride, but now she 
 lifted her veil and disclosed the fact that Doran 's
 
 214 LANDMARKS 
 
 angel had rather a masterful face, with firm thin 
 lips. 
 
 It's a great undertaking, thought Rudd. Forsak- 
 ing all others ! How can poor fickle human nature, 
 changing and developing every day, make such a 
 promise as that ? 
 
 But the good honest Doran entertained no such 
 dubiety. " I will," he replied in a firm voice, and 
 meant it too. 
 
 " Wilt thou," said the dear Canon, turning to the 
 angel, " have this man to thy wedded husband, to live 
 together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of 
 Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him and serve him, 
 love, honour and keep him in sickness and in health 
 [How thorough it all is ! thought Rudd] and for- 
 saking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as 
 ye both shall live ? " and the thin-lipped angel replied 
 " I will " without a tremor. 
 
 Did the dear Canon, so bland, prosperous and 
 beneficent, Rudd wondered, as he bent over all these 
 couples and conducted these delicate negotiations, 
 ever give a thought to possible sequels in the Probate, 
 Admiralty and Divorce Division ? Surely not, or 
 he could not have been so suave and assured and 
 creamy, so obviously performing a divine mission. 
 
 And then the two brave things, hand in hand, 
 plighted their troth for ever for better, for worse, for 
 richer, for poorer, to love and to cherish till death did 
 them part ; and the dear Canon gave way to the 
 inferior clergy and began to turn his thoughts to the
 
 THE WEDDING 215 
 
 address which he always gave on these occasions, but 
 which each family who secured his services believed 
 to be specially composed for themselves. No physi- 
 ology here ; but a hint or so of the possible need of 
 give-and-take in the matrimonial state. 
 
 And then voices breathed again o'er Eden and the 
 congregation sought the fresh air.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 FURTHER PROOF THAT A WOMAN'S IN- 
 TEREST IN A MAN MUST BE MANAGED 
 WITH SKILL IF SHE IS TO HOLD HIM 
 
 THERE was no bridesmaid whom Rudd felt in 
 danger of himself leading to the altar, but Eva 
 Lasker was quite amusing at lunch. 
 
 More than amusing : attractive, Rudd thought. 
 She had a mass of brown hair and slender white hands. 
 Her mouth was pretty too, and her voice rich and 
 vibrating. Her age was in reality thirty, but she had 
 all the machinery of twenty-five. 
 
 Rudd asked her if she too wrote, and she admitted 
 that she had dabbled. 
 
 " But my efforts," she said, " are the merest rubbish. 
 Now yours . . . ! I am sure you write the kind of 
 things I like." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Well, you look like it. There's penetration in 
 your eyes ; you seem to see right inside." 
 
 Rudd liked her. 
 
 " And then," she continued " but you'll think I 
 am horribly observant "
 
 A WOMAN'S INTEREST IN A MAN 217 
 
 " Not at all ; what then ? " 
 
 " Why, your hands. They're very interesting. You 
 see, I've studied palmistry. I've got a certificate 
 for it." 
 
 " You don't really believe in that sort of thing ? " 
 Rudd asked. 
 
 " Of course I do," she replied. " It's an exact 
 science. I know." 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me that our characters are 
 written in the lines of the hands ? " Rudd said, with a 
 laugh. 
 
 " Why not ? " she replied. " That's not more re- 
 markable than many other things about us. We are 
 fearfully and wonderfully made. But undoubtedly 
 our characters are written there. And more too. 
 Not only our characters but our whole lives, past, 
 present and future." 
 
 " You can prophesy as well ? " said Rudd. 
 
 " Yes," replied Miss Lasker, " but as a matter of 
 fact we're not allowed to. Now just lay your 
 right hand on the table for a moment, palm 
 upwards." 
 
 She bent a comely head over it for a second and 
 half whistled. " Most interesting," she murmured 
 partly to herself. " But then," she added, " we're not 
 talking right at all. We ought to be discussing plays 
 or books," and she laughed brightly. 
 
 " You've shaken me," said Rudd. " I always felt 
 that these sort of things phrenology, chirop I 
 mean palmistry were just fakes. Now, the only
 
 2i8 LANDMARKS 
 
 thing I really want is to have my hands read. 
 Mayn't I?" ' 
 
 " We can't do it here," said Miss Lasker. " Some 
 time of course I should love to read them." 
 
 Later they played the game, and touched upon 
 books : their favourite authors. What would lunch 
 or dinner parties be without these useful fellows? 
 
 Miss Lasker confessed to a recent passion for 
 Tourgue*niev. Rudd must read him too. Rudd said 
 that he would, and she offered to lend him one. 
 
 Would he have a French translation or an English ? 
 
 English, Rudd thought. Yes, English. 
 
 He would be delighted to accept the loan. 
 
 " You'll be sure to let me have it back ? " she said. 
 " Book borrowers, you know. The sad sad gaps in 
 my shelves ! " 
 
 Rudd promised. 
 
 Who were the best novelists ? was a question they 
 then debated. 
 
 The great name of Dickens came up; but Miss 
 Lasker demurred and lost her vivacity. 
 
 " Don't you like Dickens ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 She opened her eyes a little hopelessly. " Do you 
 know, I'm awfully sorry, and I know it just puts me 
 clean out of court ; but I never could read him." 
 
 " It's your loss," said Rudd. 
 
 " So I'm always told," she replied. 
 
 "Why don't you try again?" Rudd asked. "If 
 I sent you David Copperfield would you promise to 
 try ? "
 
 A WOMAN'S INTEREST IN A MAN 219 
 
 " Of course I would," said Miss Lasker. " But I don't 
 think I could let you spend money on me like that." 
 
 "Shall I steal it for you, then?" Rudd asked. 
 " For I mean to send it ; that is, if you give me your 
 address." 
 
 "I'll accept it," said Miss Lasker, "on one con- 
 dition." 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " That you don't send it, but bring it." 
 
 " Very well," said Rudd, and added that he would 
 bring his hands with him too. 
 
 He now had to talk to the bridesmaid on the other 
 side, who was not interesting, for she talked solely 
 about herself. 
 
 A few days later, on the afternoon appointed, Rudd 
 called at the house in Queen's Gate and was ushered 
 into a small room where Miss Lasker was seated. 
 
 She rose as he entered and met him half-way. 
 
 " You look tired," she said, scanning his face 
 anxiously. "You've been overworking." 
 
 Rudd was perfectly sure that he had not, but her 
 solicitude pleased him. He passed his hand wearily 
 over his forehead. " Life is tiring," he said. 
 
 " Yes indeed," she replied. " Especially to brain- 
 workers. They give out so much all the time." 
 
 She turned to make the tea, and Rudd, trying to 
 talk like a brain-worker who had been giving out too 
 much, glanced round the room. It was a blend of 
 cosiness and culture. The chairs were comfortable, 
 the fire was ample and active; on the walls were
 
 220 LANDMARKS 
 
 Arundel Society reproductions and autotypes, and 
 the many shelves were full of books, which turned 
 out, on closer inspection, to be the right books that 
 is to say, Stevenson, Pater, Hardy, Meredith, Henry 
 James, and so forth. These were in sets. There were 
 no discoveries. 
 
 " Have you read all these ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " Oh yes, many times ! My dear books ! " she 
 said. " What a solace ! what friends ! " 
 
 " No Dickens, of course ! " said Rudd. 
 
 " We have them," she said. " But they're in father's 
 den. He loves them." 
 
 Rudd presented his parcel, and they settled down 
 to tea. 
 
 Miss Lasker, it seemed, like Miss Dewsberry of 
 horrid memory (Rudd could not get her out of his 
 mind at all at the moment), had a little room of her 
 own and a circle of her own friends. Upstairs was a 
 mother who had been perfectly trained to keep her 
 place. 
 
 " I hope you'll dine with us soon," said Miss 
 Lasker, "and then you will meet her. Father too. 
 But there's no need to see either to-day. To-day 
 I want you all to myself. I want to know what you 
 have been doing? " 
 
 " Nothing much," said Rudd. " Not what I ought 
 to have been doing. Just journalism." 
 
 "Oh, but you must," said Miss Lasker. "You 
 ought to be writing a book. Sugar? " 
 
 " No, thank you."
 
 A WOMAN'S INTEREST IN A MAN 221 
 
 "A real book with yourself in it. Milk?" 
 
 " Yes, please. Only a very little." 
 
 " Of course you must write a book. Bread and 
 butter or toast? With a head and eyes like yours 
 you must write a novel. Haven't you anything with 
 you that I might see ? " 
 
 " Nothing but some paragraphs in to-day's paper," 
 said Rudd. 
 
 " Oh, let me see those ! " said Miss Lasker, all 
 eagerness and impatience. 
 
 Rudd fetched The Post-Meridian from the hall, 
 where he had left it, and directed her attention to his 
 morning's labours. 
 
 She read them with flattering thoroughness. 
 
 " Of course you are a writer," she said, as she 
 finished. " You have a flair. I can see it even in 
 these little things. Straws tell how the wind blows, 
 you know. Your phrasing is so epigrammatic and 
 terse. Surely you write poetry ? " 
 
 Rudd confessed that he had done so. Verse at 
 any rate. 
 
 Miss Lasker knew it. "Won't you let me see 
 something?" she asked again. "Won't you make 
 up a little parcel of your things and let me read them 
 before you come again ? That is, if you will come 
 again," she added. 
 
 Rudd said that he should be delighted to. She 
 was really a very remarkable girl. Her intuition 
 was wonderful, so swift and accurate. Fancy spotting 
 that he had written verse.
 
 222 LANDMARKS 
 
 "You were going to read my hand," Rudd said, 
 a little later. 
 
 She laughed. " The converted sceptic ! " she said 
 gaily. 
 
 " I admit it," said Rudd. " No dreary consistency 
 for me." 
 
 " ' The bugbear of little minds,' " Miss Lasker 
 quoted. 
 
 What a clever girl ! Rudd thought again. 
 
 " Won't you sit there facing me ? " Miss Lasker 
 said ; and he did so. 
 
 She took up a magnifying glass and a slender 
 penholder of jade, and bade him spread his palms 
 outwards side by side. 
 
 " I'm afraid they're very dirty," he said as he did so. 
 
 " Oh dear, I did hope you wouldn't say that," Miss 
 Lasker replied. " All the men say that! " 
 
 Rudd felt humiliated. He had begun to think 
 himself unique. He felt a tinge of jealousy too. 
 How many infernal men's hands had she read ? 
 
 " But whereas most of the men's really are dirty, 
 yours are beautifully clean," Miss Lasker added, by 
 way of solace. 
 
 She examined both palms through her glass in 
 silence. 
 
 " Dear ! dear ! " she said at last. " I'm afraid you 
 haven't done quite so much with your life as you 
 should. Still, you are young yet. How old are 
 you ? " 
 
 " Twenty-five," said Rudd.
 
 A WOMAN'S INTEREST IN A MAN 223 
 
 " Twenty-five ! " she exclaimed in surprise. "When 
 is your birthday ? " 
 
 " In October," said Rudd. 
 
 " How very odd ! So is mine," said Miss Lasker. 
 " Not the twelfth, is it?" 
 
 " No, the tenth," said Rudd. 
 
 "Well, that's most amazingly near," said Miss 
 Lasker. " To think that when you were a little baby 
 boy, wherever you were, I was a little baby girl 
 somewhere else, and twenty-five years later we should 
 meet ! " 
 
 For some reason or other Rudd thought this extra- 
 ordinarily true, but reflecting upon it afterwards, he 
 realized that it was a fairly normal beginning. There 
 must always be infantile contemporaries in different 
 places. Miss Lasker, however, with her jade stick, 
 and her magnifying glass, and her proximity, and the 
 touch of her hand as she moved his about, had made 
 it seem supernatural. 
 
 "You see," said Miss Lasker, pointing out a line 
 in his left palm with the jade stick. "This hand 
 shows what we are born with ; the right shows what 
 we make of ourselves. Now, look at this line. It 
 indicates brain power. But see how much deeper 
 it is in the left than the right. You haven't worked 
 hard enough." 
 
 Rudd admitted it. 
 
 " You have fine hands," she said later, after another 
 long scrutiny. " Wonderful hands. And you'll live 
 for ever. Look at the line of life. But there's some
 
 224 LANDMARKS 
 
 trouble ahead. The heart line is broken. See these 
 little crosses " the jade stick tickled his palm delight- 
 fully " they mean trouble. You must be careful with 
 your affections you must keep them under control." 
 
 By this time Rudd was in a mazy state, and as she 
 went on his condition became more and more hyp- 
 notic, so that when she dropped his hands and rose, 
 he almost reeled. 
 
 He was also a little intoxicated by the superb 
 character which she had given him. 
 
 Miss Lasker, after a glance at the clock, dismissed 
 him rather abruptly by fetching the Tourgueniev and 
 handing it to him. " Remember," she said, " I shall 
 want your opinion of this next week. I am sure you 
 will read it with peculiar insight." 
 
 Rudd promised to read it at once, and took his 
 leave. 
 
 On the doorstep he found a tall youth in a brown 
 suit and a large felt hat. He had a green tie. 
 Another of her friends, Rudd thought a little 
 bitterly. 
 
 None the less, he walked across the park on air ; 
 he had found a muse. 
 
 That night Rudd looked out a few ewe lambs and 
 posted them. 
 
 In the intervening week he thought about Miss 
 Lasker from time to time. She was a good sort, he 
 decided, and excellent company. She didn't bore 
 him as that Dewsberry girl had done, and yet he was 
 conscious of tiny suspicions. He could not help the
 
 A WOMAN'S INTEREST IN A MAN 225 
 
 feeling that she had said most of her things before. 
 How many young geniuses did she discover every 
 week ? he wondered. Silly to be so wholesale. 
 
 None the less, when Thursday afternoon arrived, 
 Rudd was to be seen, rather more carefully dressed 
 than usual, on Miss Lasker's doorstep. 
 
 She received him with graciousness and warmth. 
 
 " Let me see," she said as she sat down to the tea- 
 table, "you take sugar and no milk, don't you? I like 
 to remember these little idiosyncrasies." 
 
 She was so pleased with her memory that Rudd 
 could not undeceive her, and his tea nearly made him 
 sick. 
 
 " Well," he asked, " what about Dickens ? " 
 
 Miss Lasker looked at him piteously as though 
 begging not to be thrashed. 
 
 " Haven't you read it yet ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " As much as I can," Miss Lasker admitted. 
 
 " And you don't like it ? " 
 
 " Oh, of course, here and there. One can't help it. 
 But I'm afraid I'm hopeless. You must give me up. 
 I warned you, you know." 
 
 " But what about Mr. Micawber ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " A good comic figure, of course," said Miss Lasker. 
 
 "Only that?" Rudd asked. 
 
 " It is all so overdrawn," said Miss Lasker. "Such 
 caricatures." 
 
 "But the bigness of it all!" said Rudd. "The 
 scale, the spirit ! " 
 
 " They seemed to be able to do that quite easily,
 
 226 LANDMARKS 
 
 those Victorians," Miss Lasker replied. " I'm afraid 
 I'm too modern for it all. I'm such a child of the 
 age." 
 
 " So am I, I suppose," said Rudd. " Yet I adore 
 Dickens." 
 
 " You'll grow out of that," Miss Lasker again re- 
 marked. 
 
 " I hope not," said Rudd. " I hope to admire him 
 more and more." 
 
 Miss Lasker sighed. " How splendid and loyal of 
 you ! " she said. 
 
 " Not a bit," said Rudd, nettled. 
 
 "Oh yes, it is. You're so chivalrous and kind. 
 You hate to give up an old friend. But you'll have 
 to. Do you know something ? " 
 
 "What?" Rudd asked. He was getting tired of 
 this. He always hated argument, and he knew that 
 the girl was wrong. 
 
 " I'll tell you," said Miss Lasker. " There's a thing 
 of yours among that bundle you sent me which is 
 worth all Dickens." 
 
 "Good heavens!" cried Rudd. "What do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 "It's true," she said. "That tiny sketch called 
 ' The Crimson Madonna.' That's modern, if you 
 like. It's exquisite. It's so full of atmosphere and 
 feeling : imaginative sympathy, don't you know." 
 
 Rudd was feeling genuinely miserable. 
 
 " Dickens could only knock about on the surface 
 and make people laugh," Miss Lasker went on, " but
 
 A WOMAN'S INTEREST IN A MAN 227 
 
 this thing of yours it's so intimate, so understanding. 
 It leaves him nowhere." 
 
 Rudd was furious. He wanted nothing that she 
 was giving him. He did not want butter on that 
 scale, nor any butter at all at the expense of the real 
 thing. He had enough power of self-criticism to 
 know that Miss Lasker was being an ass. 
 
 All unconscious of his annoyance, she continued to 
 babble forth her rapture; but Rudd was disgusted. 
 He had had enough. He sat through another half- 
 hour suffering acutely, and then collected his ewe 
 lambs and left. 
 
 By a strange chance the tall sallow youth in the 
 green tie was again on the doorstep waiting to be 
 admitted. Thursday was evidently his afternoon too. 
 
 " You take her," Rudd muttered.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 PLOVERS 1 EGGS 
 
 RUDD was well over twenty before he met mag- 
 nificence. He had lunched now and then with 
 Luard at his club or a Strand restaurant in a style 
 far beyond his own habits ; but Luard was merely a 
 Londoner who did himself fairly well. He was not 
 the real thing. 
 
 " I have heard of an opportunity for you," wrote a 
 friend. " A Mr. Bloor, an American, is in London, at 
 Sirridge's Hotel. He has come to Europe as com- 
 missioner for an international art exhibition to be 
 held in New York, and he wants a secretary. It will 
 mean travel, and, I should say, some interesting ex- 
 perience. He is a rich man apart from his work, 
 which is largely a hobby. If the idea appeals to you, 
 call on him with the enclosed card any morning before 
 twelve ; or call anyway." 
 
 This letter finding Rudd in an adventurous mood, 
 he presented himself the next day at the portals of 
 Sirridge's Hotel, the name of which was known to 
 him as the names of ruling princes are known as 
 
 something gorgeous and rarefied and remote. A 
 
 328
 
 PLOVERS' EGGS 229 
 
 field-marshal met him at the door, and two con- 
 temptuous gentlemen in knee-breeches and floured 
 hair made the entrance into the hall several degrees 
 more embarrassing than it would otherwise have 
 been. 
 
 A lift soared upwards so swiftly that Rudd's 
 stomach fell to his boots, and in a moment he was in 
 the lobby of Mr. Bloor's suite, and his gnarled and 
 slightly greasy ground-ash stick and far too comfort- 
 able hat were being taken firmly from him by Mr. 
 Bloor's discreet valet. Rudd was then shown into 
 Mr. Bloor's sitting-room and requested to wait. 
 
 A number of the newest books and all the more 
 cultured reviews and papers were scattered about. It 
 was the first time, Rudd realized, that he had ever 
 met with a private individual who bought the 
 Quarterly and Edinburgh ; and the rumour that Mr. 
 Bloor was wealthy, which the hotel and the valet had 
 done their best to corroborate, now became a fact. 
 
 Rudd was looking at a novel when Mr. Bloor 
 entered and wished him good morning with an en- 
 gaging cordiality. 
 
 Mr. Bloor was about forty-eight, tall and slender, 
 with blue eyes, a greyish moustache, greyish hair and 
 glittering pince-nez that seemed to adhere to his face 
 by supernatural means, for no machinery was visible. 
 He was perfectly dressed. Everything was of the 
 most exquisite quality, and everything, although new- 
 looking, was so well made as to suggest the finest 
 blend of ease and fit.
 
 230 LANDMARKS 
 
 Rudd at once noticed Mr. Bloor's hands, which 
 were strong and reposeful, and his nails, which tapered 
 and blushed. The impression which he conveyed, 
 however, was not that of the dandy, but of a man of 
 the world who believed in the best of everything : a 
 Bond Street and Rue de la Paix cosmopolitan. 
 
 Mr. Bloor, speaking with a strong American accent, 
 but without any American harshness, offered Rudd a 
 cigarette from a cedar-wood box, and began to talk. 
 
 With infinite detail and some circumlocution he 
 made Rudd acquainted with the fact that he was in 
 Europe to persuade picture collectors to lend master- 
 pieces for the greatest art exhibition ever projected, 
 to be held in New York, and that he was in need of a 
 travelling secretary to assist him. 
 
 " Are you interested in pictures ? " he asked. 
 
 Rudd said that, without expert knowledge, he was. 
 
 " That's bully," said Mr. Bloor, who went on to 
 demonstrate how necessary it was that in such a 
 delicate matter as this the negotiator, or as he might 
 almost say, the ambassador, should have tact, should 
 be in a position to return hospitality, and so 
 forth. Many a man could have been found, Mr. 
 Bloor admitted, whose knowledge of art exceeded 
 his ; but there had been difficulty in finding anyone 
 as familiar as himself with the capitals of Europe, or 
 as ready to undertake a mission involving so much 
 time and expense. He had also a further qualifica- 
 tion, although far be it from him to define it, even 
 if it could be defined : some curious je-ne-sais-quoi,
 
 PLOVERS' EGGS 231 
 
 some . . . Anyhow, there it was ! He laughed 
 gaily and showed his fine teeth. 
 
 In England already he had been surprisingly suc- 
 cessful. Lord Brighton had promised his Velazquez, 
 Lord Croydon his Titian, the Marquis of Wessex a 
 couple of Reynolds', the Duke of Canterbury his 
 finest Rembrandt, and so forth. Nothing could ex- 
 ceed their courtesy and friendliness. But in each 
 case it had been a personal success. 
 
 Mr. Bloor then began a detailed analysis of his own 
 character in order to prove to Rudd that although 
 there might not appear to be enough work for two in 
 this campaign, yet as a matter of fact there was. 
 For what Mr. Bloor needed was that his mind should 
 be totally freed from every kind of minor detail, such 
 as the remembering of appointments, the writing of 
 letters, the changing of money, and so forth, or other- 
 wise there was a serious danger of some of the more 
 delicate moves in the game being coarsened. 
 
 Because Mr. Bloor was probably more unlike any- 
 one else than anyone had ever been before him : 
 differentiated from them not only by temperament 
 but by mentality. 
 
 And as Mr. Bloor went on and on, and his chest 
 swelled under his lovely black tie and his dove's 
 breast grey waistcoat, and his mysterious eyeglasses 
 gleamed brighter and brighter, Rudd felt an hypnotic 
 frisson creep over him. He knew all that Mr. Bloor 
 was going to say, and yet he would not have stopped 
 him for anything.
 
 232 LANDMARKS 
 
 Mr. Bloor concluded, for the time being, by telling 
 Rudd that he liked him more than he had liked any- 
 one on so short an acquaintance and he was not one 
 naturally quick to take a fancy to people ; rather, in 
 fact, the reverse and he would be mighty glad if 
 Rudd would join him in his great work. Rudd must 
 think it over. 
 
 " And now, Mr. Sergison," he added, " we'll have 
 some breakfast." 
 
 Breakfast ? thought Rudd. He had had his hours 
 ago. Still, he was under a spell; his natural tend- 
 ency to decline invitations left him ; for the moment 
 he was prepared to do whatever this splendid crea- 
 ture suggested. And it was one o'clock, an hour 
 at which the memory of the best breakfast begins 
 to fade. 
 
 On Rudd admitting that he would like to wash his 
 hands, the valet was summoned to show him into an 
 adjoining marble palace of ablution. Here bath, 
 basin, mirrors and taps effulgently beckoned. A 
 new and odoriferous cake of soap from a Parisian 
 box and a clean towel of softest linen were placed 
 before him, and all the hot and cold water that could 
 be desired were at his service the hot not the tepid 
 rillet to which his landlady had accustomed him, but 
 a gushing boiling torrent. 
 
 Having washed and made pathetic efforts to bring 
 his nails to something approaching the radiancy of 
 Mr. Bloor's, Rudd was invited to brush his hair in 
 Mr. Bloor's own apartment, where every facility for 

 
 PLOVERS 1 EGGS 233 
 
 beautifying the exterior of man, mounted in gold, 
 awaited him. In a corner were a dozen pairs of boots 
 and shoes on trees, and never before had Rudd met 
 one of the godlike creatures to whom boot-trees are a 
 natural adjunct ; the mirror had two side pieces to it 
 so that Mr. Bloor could examine his distinguished 
 features from every angle ; on the dressing-table were 
 cigarette cases in all the precious metals. 
 
 With a consciousness of his own common-place 
 shabby mediocrity which was becoming a gnawing 
 pain, Rudd brushed his hair. 
 
 Rudd found Mr. Bloor drawing on a pair of expen- 
 sive loose-fitting gloves. He then took from his 
 man's hands a glossy hat, and an umbrella as thin as 
 a rapier, and led the way downstairs. At the door 
 the field-marshal ushered them into an electric 
 brougham, which slid away like a gondola. 
 
 " We can get a better breakfast at the Lorraine 
 than here," said Mr. Bloor, and resumed the analysis 
 of his strange personality, which, try as he would to 
 bring it into line with the mass of mankind, or even 
 with a smaller section of it, still eluded his efforts, and 
 remained unique, exacting, difficile. 
 
 After leaving their hats and sticks with a powdered 
 lackey and being passed from bowing official to 
 bowing official, they were led by the head-waiter of 
 the Lorraine's restaurant to a table that had been 
 secured for Mr. Bloor by telephone, in a corner of a 
 large room which seemed to Rudd to be filled with 
 beautiful women. There were men too, of course,
 
 234 LANDMARKS 
 
 and waiters moved softly on purposeful errands in 
 all directions ; but the prevailing impression was that 
 this was the home of excited and rather over-dressed 
 femininity. 
 
 Rudd was startled from his bewilderment under 
 these unusual conditions (so different from his usual 
 lunching place near the Museum) by being asked if 
 some eggs with asparagus points, a sole and a 
 grilled chicken would suit him. 
 
 Rudd replied meditatively that he thought they 
 would, realizing that a rich American's breakfast did 
 not differ so strikingly from a poor Englishman's 
 ideal luncheon. 
 
 Mr. Bloor then asked him if he preferred a Moselle, 
 a light red wine, or a white Bordeaux, saving him the 
 trouble of making up his mind (as is the way of 
 wealthy bachelors with their guests) by himself re- 
 commending the hotel's Carbonnieux. 
 
 " And bring some plovers' eggs," Mr. Bloor added. 
 
 These preliminaries being settled, Mr. Bloor began 
 to explain one or two further matters concerning his 
 character. 
 
 Rudd did not mind. He was still under the spell. 
 He liked to be there ; he liked to be conscious of the 
 busy chattering all round him ; he liked to see the 
 pretty animated musical-comedy girls, all, like him- 
 self, having better meals than they were brought up 
 to ; he liked Mr. Bloor's deep rich voice, his American 
 accent, and his really beautiful face. 
 
 The plovers' eggs were eighteenpence each (Rudd
 
 PLOVERS 1 EGGS 235 
 
 noticed that on the menu), and Mr. Bloor ate three 
 and Rudd ate three. He had seen them before, in 
 their little green nests in the poulterers' windows; 
 but never had he eaten one, nor ever thought to. 
 
 " I love them," said Mr. Bloor. " They're bully. I 
 could live on them, I believe." 
 
 As another nest was placed before them Rudd 
 wondered if a plover's egg had ever fallen to the 
 waiter's lot. What do waiters eat ? he asked himself. 
 How can they eat at all ? 
 
 Rudd and Mr. Bloor together finished the second 
 nest : eighteen shillings' worth ; enough to keep two 
 or three families of poor people for a day or two. 
 
 And all around him were the pretty actresses eating 
 them too, while their mothers, at home, in mean 
 streets in Brixton and elsewhere, were doing as well 
 as they could on bloaters and tea. 
 
 From time to time other deferential waiters brought 
 other exquisite things to eat. Rudd dropped a fork, 
 and at once another was laid before him. He spilt a 
 little wine and instantly a radiant napkin was placed 
 over the trifling spot. He thought of his mustard- 
 smeared breakfast cloths and smiled. 
 
 The scrambled eggs required no effort on Rudd's 
 part but automatically entered upon their nourishing 
 role ; the sole was perfect. 
 
 "They are better grilled than fried," Mr. Bloor 
 remarked ; " they retain more flavour and the soupc_on 
 of burning is agreeable." 
 
 Mr. Bloor had said a good deal about his defective
 
 236 LANDMARKS 
 
 alimentation, but none the less he ate quite a good 
 lunch. 
 
 " Now comes in the sweet of the meal," he said as 
 the cloth was being removed and another substituted. 
 
 One waiter laid on the table the matches and the 
 coffee, and another waiter came bustling up with a 
 pile of boxes from which with infinite care Mr. Bloor 
 at length selected two cigars. 
 
 " You'll have some brandy, of course," he said. 
 
 Of course ! thought Rudd, and a bottle was brought 
 with a date upon it preceding Rudd's natal day by 
 some twenty- five years. 
 
 " Now," said Mr. Bloor, " let us be happy while we 
 may." 
 
 Rudd sipped his coffee and his brandy and pulled 
 at his half-crown cigar in a state of mazy benevolence ; 
 most of the other guests had also finished eating and 
 were at the bland tobacco stage. Most of the ladies 
 had cigarettes, a few because they liked them and 
 many because they wished to assert their thorough- 
 ness as viveuses. The two groups were easily 
 distinguishable. 
 
 Rudd had noticed earlier in the meal how few 
 people can enter a restaurant with any naturalness ; 
 he now observed that even fewer can leave it 
 unselfconsciously. 
 
 At last came the time for his own departure, which 
 he was aware of making quite as poorly as those 
 others ; and having paid the powdered lackey as 
 much for minding his hat and stick as represented
 
 PLOVERS' EGGS 237 
 
 more than a quarter of the cost of his usual lunch, 
 Rudd left Mr. Bloor with the understanding that he 
 should call at Sirridge's on the morrow to resume 
 their conversation. 
 
 " The Fates keep me from fastidiousness ! " he 
 murmured to himself; but he feared it was too late. 
 
 That evening, however, he dined on one and 
 threepence.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 IN WHICH RUDD LEARNS HOW COSTLY IT 
 CAN BE TO HAVE ALL ONE'S EXPENSES 
 PAID BY THE WEALTHY 
 
 r I "'HE next day Rudd arrived at the hotel in an 
 JL undecided state. He was attracted by the offer, 
 but his instinct warned him that Mr. Bloor would be 
 an exacting and exhausting employer. Rudd also 
 was in doubt as to his capacity for being enough of 
 a swell to satisfy this exquisite person's needs. Still, 
 it meant foreign travel, unaccustomed luxury, new 
 experience. . . . 
 
 Mr. Bloor's man opened the door, looking precisely 
 as he had done yesterday, and Rudd lived to learn 
 that the art of being and looking the same is acquired 
 in greater perfection by valets than by any other 
 members of society. 
 
 Mr. Bloor was not up, having a headache ; but he 
 would see Rudd in his room. 
 
 Rudd was led into a darkened chamber. In the 
 bed, illuminated by a reading lamp, was Mr. Bloor 
 more beautiful and more soignt than ever. He wore 
 
 a blue dressing-gown of supernaturally soft material ; 
 
 338
 
 ALL EXPENSES PAID 239 
 
 his hair was brushed and tended with its usual per- 
 fection ; he was shaved ; his nails diffused a lambency. 
 Now and then he moistened his forehead with a 
 fragrant mixture of eau-de-Cologne and menthol. All 
 the papers and a few new books novels and memoirs 
 were scattered about, and a bottle of some Con- 
 tinental drinking water stood by the bed. 
 
 Mr. Bloor, apologizing for being ill, explained how 
 careful he had to be, with such defective alimenta- 
 tion as his, which was so unusual as to have puzzled 
 the leading physicians of both hemispheres. He then 
 informed Rudd that he had to go to Paris on the 
 morrow, Saturday, on business, and would be much 
 solaced if Rudd would accompany him as his guest. 
 He would not only be a comfort to Mr. Bloor, but 
 they would have opportunities for further discusssion, 
 and Rudd would be in a position to decide once for 
 all before returning to London. 
 
 Of course Rudd must understand that it would 
 not cost him a penny. He was Mr. Bloor's guest. 
 Not a penny. 
 
 Was Rudd free? 
 
 Rudd thought that three days could be managed, 
 and he would be delighted to go. 
 
 But could Rudd be ready so quickly ? 
 
 Rudd said that he had merely to see his editor and 
 then he could be ready at any time as he had very 
 little to pack. 
 
 Rudd noticed that at these words Mr. Bloor's smile 
 became a trifle rigid, and he waited for the reason.
 
 240 LANDMARKS 
 
 " I'm sorry that the notice is so short," said Mr. 
 Bloor, "because it will probably put you in difficulties 
 as to clothes. Paris has become of late rather absurdly 
 particular about evening dress and so forth; and when 
 
 in Rome, you know Now I have been thinking. 
 
 . . . Your figure and mine are much alike, and it 
 occurred to me that as you were being taken unfairly 
 by surprise in this way, I might perhaps be able, if 
 you were willing, to help you out. So if you will go 
 into the next room you will find a number of things 
 such as you might need, and Roberts will help 
 you to try them on. They are spare ones of mine. 
 They're all new. I always get too many, I fear. 
 One of my bad habits. I'll ring for Roberts 
 now. . . ." 
 
 " Oh, Roberts," said Mr. Bloor as the man entered, 
 "just help Mr. Sergison with those things." 
 
 " This way, sir," said Roberts. 
 
 Rudd was bewildered. He had an evening suit 
 of his own, but he was conscious of its age and 
 shabbiness. Nor had he thought of it as necessary 
 for three days in Paris. Such friends of his as went 
 on brief trips to Paris went gaily off with one 
 hand-bag. That's what foreign cities were for 
 relaxation all round. Yet evidently Mr. Bloor's Paris 
 was but an extension of the West End ; for here were 
 all the habiliments of the idle rich. 
 
 With infinite reluctance and not a little shame 
 Rudd allowed Roberts to bear away his coat and 
 waistcoat and to see his scandalous braces. In fact,
 
 ALL EXPENSES PAID 241 
 
 directly he entered this flat everything about him 
 took on an air of seediness ; which was exasperating, 
 and, he knew in his heart, wrongly so. Yet he was 
 in for it now. 
 
 Whatever contempt for him Roberts may have felt 
 his courteous impassive features refused to betray. 
 With the tenderest care Rudd was assisted into three 
 suits one of quiet grey, one of blue serge, and one 
 for evening wear and all fitted well. The trousers 
 were creased to resemble paper knives. There was 
 also a satin-lined overcoat. 
 
 " You won't forget to pack your dress boots," 
 Roberts said. " 1 daresay you wear an opera hat. 
 Most gentlemen do. But Mr. Bloor is peculiar in 
 preferring an ordinary silk one. Allow me," and 
 Rudd was again put in possession of his own 
 venerable apparel. 
 
 He returned to Mr. Bloor and gave him the news 
 as to fit. 
 
 " That's bully ! " said Mr. Bloor. 
 
 When Rudd left the hotel it was arranged that he 
 should be at Victoria next morning for the eleven 
 o'clock boat train and should seek the compartment 
 reserved in Mr. Bloor's name. 
 
 "Roberts will be on the look-out for you," said 
 Mr. Bloor. " Leave everything to him." 
 
 Having obtained permission from Luard to be 
 
 away till Tuesday, Rudd visited his bank and 
 
 reduced his modest balance by fifteen pounds. He 
 
 had never taken out at once so much before, but then 
 
 16
 
 242 LANDMARKS 
 
 never before had he become that most expensive 
 person, a guest of the rich. 
 
 Rudd had to buy dress boots, ordinary boots, 
 shirts, ties, a silk hat and box for it, and many other 
 things, as well as to visit the manicurist and barber. 
 He also had to borrow a decent-looking bag. 
 
 That day his lunch cost him tenpence and his 
 dinner one and two.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 AT <>20,000 A YEAR 
 
 MR. BLOOR and Rudd, after an easy and 
 luxurious journey in reserved cabin and 
 compartments, during which Mr. Bloor slept a good 
 deal, reached Paris about seven and drove direct to 
 their hotel, the Bristol, where Mr. Bloor was received 
 like a prodigal son. A suite was at his service and 
 an adjoining room and bathroom for Rudd. Where 
 Roberts slept, Rudd knew not, but by day he was 
 continually at hand. Mr. Bloor believed in using his 
 servants, whether they were professional or amateur. 
 
 Mr. Bloor suggested dining quietly and lightly 
 at the Anglais, and, as they were so late and the 
 journey was fatiguing, going to bed. 
 
 " Never tire yourself in Paris," he said. " It is 
 everyone's tendency and very foolish, because although 
 it excites the nervous system, Paris is naturally ex- 
 hausting to foreigners physically, and you want all your 
 strength for digestion. One should rest a great deal 
 in Paris." 
 
 Resting was not in the least Rudd's notion of a 
 holiday in Paris, but he accepted the dictum.
 
 244 LANDMARKS 
 
 At the Cafe Anglais (now, alas ! no more) they 
 found a table in a corner, and Mr. Bloor and the 
 head waiter proceeded to build up a meal. Speaking 
 in his slow and careful French, Mr. Bloor ascertained 
 the respective merits of everything in the kitchen and 
 eventually decided upon a Petite Marmite, a sole very 
 simply done, a quarter of a saddle of pre safe and 
 some early asparagus. With this they were to drink 
 a soft and delicate claret upon the peculiar excellence 
 of which the wine-waiter was prepared to stake his 
 honour and faith. Over this meal they sat for two 
 hours, the last of which was spent in tasting old 
 brandy back to Waterloo under the delighted 
 attention of the head waiter, who rejoiced in their 
 gustatory satisfaction as keenly as though it was 
 his own. 
 
 Rudd had not been long in discovering certain 
 things about Mr. Bloor. One was that Mr. Bloor 
 liked an audience. Another was that Mr. Bloor liked 
 a protege, especially one to whom the grand life was 
 novel. Another was that Mr. Bloor was not much in 
 earnest about his mission when the time came to 
 carry it on. He was the type of man who spends 
 happier hours in getting ready to begin than in 
 beginning; therein differing very sharply from his 
 potential secretary, who liked plunging in. So far, 
 Mr. Bloor had not referred again to the work. 
 
 I shall hear enough about it to-morrow, Rudd 
 thought, as he prepared for sleep. 
 
 The next morning was Sunday and Rudd was up
 
 AT .20,000 A YEAR 245 
 
 and out early. He went first along the river to Notre 
 Dame and heard Mass ; and then to the Morgue, 
 which in those days was open to all, and saw through 
 the glass four bodies on the sloping slab. They were 
 all dressed, and this and the yellowness of their skin 
 made them more like fallen wax-works than details in 
 unsolved mysteries of passion, crime or dejection. 
 
 Afterwards he entered the Louvre for an hour to 
 see the " Monna Lisa " and the " Winged Victory " and 
 the " Venus of Milo," and so back to the hotel in time 
 for dtjetmer. 
 
 Mr. Bloor was ready in radiantly cut clothes, with a 
 new grey-blue waistcoat. He had with him some 
 field-glasses, for after breakfast, he explained, they 
 were going to Longchamps to see this or that Prix 
 and the spring fashions. But breakfast first, at 
 Voisin's. 
 
 Voisin's, which was then at the top of its form, 
 severe, distinguished and ambassadorial, provided 
 them with a simple but very choice meal, again 
 ordered by Mr. Bloor in confidential collaboration 
 with the head waiter. It began with a slice of melon, 
 which was not Rudd's first acquaintance with that 
 delicacy, but his first acquaintance with it at any but 
 the other, or middle-class, end of a meal, and passed 
 on to eggs seductively prepared and a chicken cooked 
 in a way peculiar to the house, accompanied by a 
 perfect salad. With this a dry white wine and at the 
 end a Gervais cream cheese. 
 
 During this meal, as during last night's dinner, Mr.
 
 246 LANDMARKS 
 
 Bloor's conversation was largely devoted to one's 
 duty to one's stomach and the pleasure of artistic 
 gastronomy. Often the simplest was the most luxuri- 
 ous. For his part indeed he cared only for simple 
 food, but it must be good. Only in good restaurants 
 did they understand food ; and these restaurants there- 
 fore were, as he always said, the cheapest in the end. 
 Take mutton, for example. At Voisin's, he would 
 wager, they kept scores of joints hanging, all dated, 
 and these were cooked not a minute before they were 
 ready and not a minute after. Was it not so, Jean ? 
 
 Jean, the head waiter, who chanced to be passing, 
 asked to be informed as to the nature of the question ; 
 and then replied, embarrassing Rudd by directing his 
 answer, in slow but intricate French, directly at him. 
 
 " Out, out," Rudd murmured at intervals, and 
 fairly honestly too, for he could detect the gist though 
 much of the detail escaped him, endeavouring to 
 force into his eye a look of intelligence sufficiently 
 real not to belie him. 
 
 Rudd was not unique. How much time in Paris 
 one can spend in this struggle ! 
 
 Mr. Bloor also pointed out various other persons in 
 the restaurant, chiefly Americans whose names were 
 synonymous with millions of money. Here and there 
 a Frenchman of note too, and one Russian prince, 
 well known on the turf, eagerly devouring forced 
 peaches at ten francs each. 
 
 Mr. Bloor having paid the bill from a slender 
 pocket-book packed with notes slender in order
 
 AT ^20,000 A YEAR 247 
 
 that it might not impair the shape of his coat they 
 entered a motor-car in waiting for them and started 
 for Longchamps. 
 
 It was in the early days of motoring, but already 
 the crossing of the Champs Elyse"es had begun to be 
 a most perilous undertaking. The chauffeur drove 
 like a Napoleon. They flew. 
 
 It was Rudd's first bold ride, and he thrilled to it. 
 They had hair-breadth evasions, and he laughed. 
 The thought of danger never obtruded ; it was 
 splendid, terrific, and he wished it could go on for 
 ever. But then he wished that all this strange new 
 life might go on for ever: the distinguished meals, 
 the luxury, the wealth, the sense of superiority and 
 ease. 
 
 They passed other cars and carriages all bound the 
 same way, all containing pleasure-seekers, and it was 
 borne in upon Rudd as he looked at them how much 
 more is woman a queen in Paris than in London. In 
 London there are women enough and many of them 
 are beautiful. But in London they rarely seem to 
 rule, to command, to dominate. In Paris, in the 
 country of the Salic law, woman reigns. Man has to 
 do as she wishes. 
 
 Women were the principal occupants of these other 
 cars and carriages with men in attendance. At 
 Longchamps the ascendancy of woman was even 
 more noticeable, for the Pfcage was captured by 
 them, peacocking in something more than their best. 
 The racing was secondary. Only between the latest
 
 248 LANDMARKS 
 
 models in hats could Rudd catch a glimpse of horses 
 at all. This, however, did not trouble him, with so 
 much that was vivacious in human nature to observe. 
 
 Mr. Bloor instructed him in the mysteries of the 
 pari mutuel and himself did a little betting and was 
 lucky. Rudd could not afford to gamble, but learned 
 enough to be able to visit the paying guichet and 
 collect Mr. Bloor's winnings for him. 
 
 The racing being over, and the prodigious task 
 of finding their car accomplished, they returned to 
 the Bristol, where Mr. Bloor retired to his couch 
 until dinner, and Rudd was free to roam in the 
 boulevards and assimilate the city ; but, his head also 
 aching, he quickly returned and lay in a hot bath like 
 a prince.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 ADDITIONAL EVIDENCE THAT IT'S OUR 
 MONEY THEY WANT 
 
 r I ^HE cab took Mr. Bloor and Rudd up the steep 
 X sides of Montmartre at a gallop, with a cracking 
 of the whip and clatter of the hoofs that made talk- 
 ing impossible. 
 
 Alighting, they entered the gayest room that Rudd 
 had ever been in. A bright warm glow illuminated 
 it ; the buzz of conversation and laughter mingling 
 with a merry tune filled the air; and in a space 
 surrounded by the many tables with their white 
 cloths, red lamp shades, and jovial guests, half a 
 dozen dazzling girls with gleaming shoulders were 
 dancing. It might be a factory of bitter morrows, 
 this hall of pleasure, but no thought of any of 
 them was present now. All was effervescence and 
 vivacity. 
 
 Mr. Bloor seemed to be as well known here as 
 elsewhere. A brisk little mditre d'kotel greeted him 
 and led him to a reserved table, where he was 
 greeted as a patron by the waiter. Mr. Bloor 
 
 ordered Marenne oysters and champagne, and settled 
 
 249
 
 250 LANDMARKS 
 
 himself to observe the gathering and instruct Rudd 
 in its peculiarities. 
 
 "Which of the girls shall we ask to have some 
 supper?" Mr. Bloor asked Rudd. "Any one you 
 like." 
 
 Rudd scrutinized them with a new interest. 
 
 " What about that one ? " he said. 
 
 But Mr. Bloor had an objection to her. 
 
 " Then that one ? " 
 
 Mr. Bloor did not approve of her; nor was he 
 cordial about two more suggestions. 
 
 " I think you had better choose," said Rudd. " You 
 know more about them than I do." 
 
 This being what Mr. Bloor had intended, he 
 straightway beckoned to a tall, slender, piquante 
 girl in red, with very low shoulders, who at once, 
 as if expecting the invitation, came over, shook 
 hands and sat down, with a little sigh of happy 
 ease, wafting all about her a heavy sweet scent. 
 
 Mr. Bloor gave an order to the waiter, and then, 
 pouring out wine for his new guest, drank her health, 
 all three of them touching glasses, and the girl, whose 
 name was Germaine, giving Rudd a curious quizzical 
 smile. 
 
 Mr. Bloor settled down to talk to her in his grave 
 measured French, and Rudd meanwhile was left to 
 look about him. 
 
 The little orchestra of some seven players in red 
 coats never stopped for a moment. One tune merged 
 into another without a hitch, and each brought new
 
 ITS OUR MONEY THEY WANT 251 
 
 dancers into the centre. Some were girls belonging 
 to the house ; some were visiting girls in their hats ; 
 the few men were mostly professional. The girls for 
 the most part danced together and kept their eyes 
 on their reflections in the many mirrors. 
 
 At intervals a man sang. Rudd's French, which 
 was of the precise Ollendorffian order, left him 
 instantly the song began and never caught up 
 again ; but there was very little doubt that the 
 subject-matter was one or more of the phases through 
 which the great emotion can pass, comic or serious. 
 Germaine laughed at the jokes with as much fresh- 
 ness as though they were new, seeking confederacy 
 in both her companions' faces, but rather more in 
 Rudd's than in Mr. Bloor's. 
 
 Rudd thought her radiantly pretty, but regretted 
 her cosmetics. She had put them on not to hide 
 age, for she was only twenty-two at most, but, with 
 the intriguing perversity of her class, to suggest a 
 voluptuous fatigue. This, at very close quarters, 
 they did not achieve, for it was obvious that she 
 was full of life and spirits. All her curves were 
 young, and her natural instincts were for quick 
 movement and gaiety. 
 
 Rudd was suddenly conscious that she was press- 
 ing his foot under the table, and, in the very midst 
 of a sentence to Mr. Bloor, her eyes and lips flashed 
 a message to him of peculiar friendliness. Flattering 
 though this might be, it put him in a false position 
 with their host, and he was glad when Germaine
 
 252 LANDMARKS 
 
 asked to be excused while she danced the next 
 dance. 
 
 " A pretty child," said Mr. Bloor, and Rudd agreed. 
 
 " I've been urging her to give this up and behave 
 sensibly and get married," said Mr. Bloor. " She'll 
 be old in no time at this rate. I hope she'll think 
 about it. I might be able to help her." 
 
 To help people was, as Rudd had already dis- 
 covered, Mr. Bloor's foible. He left behind him 
 wherever he went a long trail of disaster, all proceed- 
 ing from this purest and most disinterested motive. 
 
 Before her return Germaine had sipped a little 
 champagne at two or three other tables where she 
 had admirers ; but she now settled down, not forget- 
 ting to face the mirror and extract comfort from 
 it, to a very deep conversation with Mr. Bloor, of 
 which Rudd heard but little, but which certainly bore 
 upon some form of innocent future designed for her 
 by her new friend. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Bloor at last, " it is half-past two. 
 We must be going." And Rudd, being in a 
 dependent position, had to agree. But he would 
 cheerfully have sat on till breakfast-time. 
 
 Their rising was the signal for a cataclysm of 
 attention and courtesy. Waiters rushed to move 
 the table, hats and coats were brought and handed 
 and held, and the mditre d'hotel bent double. Mr. 
 Bloor replied with suitable largesse and smiles. 
 
 Germaine came to the door with them and laid a 
 caressing hand first on Mr. Bloor and then on Rudd.
 
 IT'S OUR MONEY THEY WANT 253 
 
 " Au demain" said Mr. Bloor, as he gave her a 
 bank note and proceeded downstairs with the assured 
 step of one who had done a good action. 
 
 Rudd was following, when he felt a touch on his 
 arm and beheld Germaine on tip-toe behind him. 
 
 " Kecce," she said, and set her lips full on 
 his. . . . 
 
 He descended the stairs in a whirl. Fancy her 
 liking him as much as that. He had thought it was 
 Mr. Bloor. Odd creatures, women ! 
 
 Rudd passed a troubled night, in which Germaine's 
 red lips were ever present, and the next morning 
 woke to find that Mr. Bloor was suffering from one 
 of his headaches and did not intend to get up. 
 
 Rudd therefore had to spend this, his last, day 
 alone ; which he did agreeably enough in various 
 museums and galleries, with echoes of Germaine's 
 voice as a leit-motif. 
 
 Now and again his heart would give a special thud 
 as some passing woman wafted a perfume similar to 
 hers. And so many women resembled her too. 
 Again and again he saw her, as he thought, advanc- 
 ing towards him or retreating from him, and always 
 his pulse quickened and his lips tingled again. He 
 had never before been kissed like that. 
 
 It was the evening that was difficult, for Mr. Bloor 
 was still too unwell to eat. 
 
 Rudd began it by dining at a Duval, giving, how- 
 ever, to the ordering of his simple meal an attention 
 quite new to him, and he even sent back one plate as
 
 254 LANDMARKS 
 
 unsatisfactory a plate which a week ago he would 
 have cheerfully accepted. 
 
 Dinner over, he roamed up and down the boule- 
 vards for an hour or two, his one idea being to get 
 through the time till half-past twelve, when that 
 fascinating night resort opened and he could again 
 bask in its warm bright friendliness and see the 
 woman who loved him. 
 
 Tiring of walking and having no wish for a theatre 
 or hall, he sat down outside a Rue Royale cafe 
 where there was an orchestra, and watched the other 
 guests and the passers-by. Paris was very interesting, 
 but already, after less than three days of it, he was 
 beginning to feel a spiritual hunger. Among so much 
 that was sparkling and brisk there was little that was 
 cordial. He felt utterly outside these lives and utterly 
 incapable ever of really sharing them. The impres- 
 sion came to him that he was inspecting a prison, 
 and all these people were the prisoners. They could 
 never escape, but he, if he had luck, and to-morrow's 
 train left the Gare du Nord, he might. 
 
 At last it was time to start, and Rudd, both for 
 economy and for something to do, began his climb 
 to the Place Pigalle, where Lutetianism as prepared 
 and spiced for the foreigners best flourishes. 
 
 He was a little earlier than the night before and 
 the room was not so full ; but nothing could exceed 
 the warmth of his welcome by the mditre cFhtitel and 
 staff, and he was led to his table as to a throne. 
 
 Almost immediately Germaine, for whom he had
 
 IT'S OUR MONEY THEY WANT 255 
 
 glanced round in vain, appeared mysteriously from 
 nowhere and joined him, drawing the chair next him 
 so close that he could feel her warmth, and enveloping 
 him with that perfume of which he had been thinking 
 so much. 
 
 Germaine, who looked a little less animated than 
 yesterday, asked after the other monsieur. Was he 
 not coming? 
 
 Rudd explained that he had a bad tnal de tete. 
 
 Germaine's expression was one of intense sympathy 
 as she pressed a shade nearer to Rudd. 
 
 The other monsieur would come to-morrow, would 
 he not ? Germaine inquired. 
 
 Rudd said that most probably Mr. Bloor would; 
 but not himself. " Moi" he added painfully, "je 
 reviendrai a Angleterre demain matin" 
 
 Germaine was distressed to hear this, and snuggled 
 if possible nearer, but she was clearly pleased to 
 ascertain that Mr. Bloor remained in Paris. 
 
 " // est gentil" she said ; using the highest compli- 
 ment which Montmartre knows, and which applies 
 chiefly to rich foreigners. Far from good Americans, 
 even while they live, can be called gentil in Paris. 
 
 The waiter meanwhile was preparing to take the 
 order, and Rudd, observing this, faltered. He had 
 only forty francs left. 
 
 He searched the unpopular back blocks of the wine- 
 list for something that was not champagne, and the 
 waiter's interest in him visibly evaporated as he did 
 so. Germaine and the waiter exchanged glances.
 
 256 LANDMARKS 
 
 Rudd at last ordered some Chablis the cheapest 
 at seven francs, and some cold meat. 
 
 Germaine's face took on so wistful an air that Rudd 
 had to ask her if anything was the matter. 
 
 She said it was nothing she was merely triste. 
 
 " But why ? " 
 
 Bit by bit it came out that she had a sister who 
 lived with her and was very ill. The doctor's bill 
 had been enormous. Germaine had paid it but it 
 had swallowed up everything, even the generous 
 present of the other monsieur, Rudd's friend, last 
 night. Could Rudd ? 
 
 Here was a dilemma. Why had he not realized 
 how expensive these places and these sentimental 
 friendships were? 
 
 With real concern and regret and the deepest 
 sympathy for this fascinating creature, Rudd ex- 
 pressed the state of his bourse ; holding and pressing 
 her hand to enforce his sincerity. 
 
 Germaine frowned and said that she understood 
 perfectly, but Rudd noticed a drop in the temper- 
 ature. Her foot, which had been touching his, was 
 withdrawn. 
 
 Suddenly she replaced it. Could he not, she asked, 
 take a cab down to the hotel and borrow from the 
 other monsieur? "// est gentil, si gentil" : he would 
 lend Rudd much money so readily. 
 
 " Impossible," said Rudd, touching his head. " Trop 
 malade." 
 
 Germaine was more than disappointed, and showed
 
 IT'S OUR MONEY THEY WANT 257 
 
 it, and a minute or so later left him to sit for a minute 
 or so at a table between two young Englishmen, who 
 had been making signs to her, and who were in the 
 reassuring company of a magnum. 
 
 The minutes passed and she did not return. 
 
 Rudd glanced across inquiringly now and then, 
 always to receive an enigmatic expression in return, 
 which might have said " Overlook this necessary 
 manoeuvre: I will be back with my real friend 
 directly," and might equally have said " No poor man 
 need apply." 
 
 He waited as long as he could endure the place, 
 which had become mechanical, in the hope that the 
 former construction might turn out to be the right 
 one, and then after paying for his simple fare, includ- 
 ing an unanticipated charge of five francs for table 
 money, he left, receiving neither a benediction from 
 his waiter nor anything but the curtest of nods from 
 the mditre d'Mtel. 
 
 It was very cold on Montmartre as he descended 
 the hill. The learning of a lesson is often accom- 
 panied by chills. 
 
 Cabs, however, were still straining up the slope at 
 a gallop, amid whip-crackings like pistol-shots and 
 loud cries from the drivers. Inside were merry 
 revellers bearing every sign that they had brought 
 with them the passport to smiles and fun enough 
 money. 
 
 Rudd caught the first boat train and had a solitary 
 journey.
 
 258 LANDMARKS 
 
 " If I don't see you in the morning," Mr. Bloor had 
 said, "good-bye and bon voyage. It's been bully 
 having you here. You will let me know about things 
 before long ? " 
 
 And that was all. Hardly a word had been said 
 during these three days about Mr. Bloor's life-work 
 and Rudd's share in it. Several times the topic had 
 seemed imminent, but something had intervened and 
 Mr. Bloor had instead enlarged with much gusto upon 
 life and the right way to live. 
 
 Rudd did not mind. He saw that what Mr. Bloor 
 really wanted was not a worker but an audience, and 
 he did no more than write a perfunctory letter of 
 thanks which was never answered. 
 
 Not so quickly did Germaine fade from his memory. 
 
 The result of the Paris visit was a general toning 
 up of Rudd's life such as he had never expected, and 
 a further illustration of the power of clothes. He 
 found himself looking at other men's clothes with a 
 closer scrutiny. Even Luard's coat-collars, he ob- 
 served, did not fit as they should, and only a week 
 ago Luard had seemed to him ideally habited. 
 Luard also fell below the standard at meals. 
 Neither in food nor drink was he final: he was 
 merely critical and particular. 
 
 But another and more valuable consequence of the 
 brief Bloor episode was the stimulus to work which 
 it imparted. For now that Rudd was becoming more 
 expensive it was necessary to make more money to 
 gratify his new tastes. He therefore cast about for
 
 IT'S OUR MONEY THEY WANT 259 
 
 more work, wrote more occasional articles for The 
 Post- Meridian and was altogether less of &fldneur. 
 
 But the odd thing is that he neither attempted a 
 novel nor wished to do so. Not even after two nights 
 on Montmartre.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 THE ANGEL AGAIN 
 
 SIX months after the wedding Rudd ran into 
 Doran and his wife at the Royal Academy, and 
 Doran bore him off to lunch with them at a 
 neighbouring restaurant. 
 
 Doran was full of enthusiasm, but the angel struck 
 Rudd as a little distrait^ and Doran, he thought, 
 searched her face over-anxiously from time to time. 
 
 She was a long while in making up her mind as to 
 what she would like to eat, and was quite short with her 
 husband for endeavouring to help her to a decision. 
 
 " You always like cutlets, you know," he said. 
 
 " How can you say so ? " she replied. " You must 
 know I detest them. He's always like that, Mr. 
 Sergison," she added to Rudd. " He has no memory 
 at all. I can't bear cutlets at any rate in restaurants. 
 At home they're useful, of course." 
 
 The waiter suggested a nice chicken. 
 
 At the moment, however, the angel loathed 
 chickens. 
 
 " Well, my sweet, we haven't too much time," said 
 
 Doran. "The matinte begins early." 
 
 260
 
 THE ANGEL AGAIN 261 
 
 " You two go on eating," she said. " I'll order 
 directly." 
 
 But Doran could not bear the idea of going on 
 ahead of his angel. "No, sweet," he said. "I 
 like to have what you have. That's the way, Ser- 
 gison, in married life : share and share alike. It's 
 great." 
 
 Was the angel's smile really contemptuous? Rudd 
 wondered, and a wave of pity for his clumsy obtuse 
 friend rolled over him. 
 
 In the end they all had different dishes, the angel 
 deciding at last on croquettes. 
 
 Rudd expressed the hope that they had had a good 
 honeymoon. 
 
 " Ripping," said Doran. " Wasn't it, darling ? " 
 
 It would have been better, she replied, if 
 Doran had not lost her dressing-bag. 
 
 " But I soon got you another," he said. " Didn't 
 I now?" 
 
 " But what about that train we missed at Basle ? 
 You couldn't make up for that, could you?" she 
 replied. 
 
 It seemed that Doran's incapacity with a time- 
 table was abysmal. 
 
 " Quite right," he said heartily. " It is." 
 
 " He can lose anything, Mr. Sergison," she con- 
 tinued. " I shouldn't be surprised if he has lost my 
 Academy catalogue." 
 
 Doran clapped his hands in startled haste on his 
 pockets. His kindly cheerful face fell. " By jingo,
 
 262 LANDMARKS 
 
 I have ! " he said. " My darling sweet, I'm so awfully 
 sorry." 
 
 The angel looked at him without mercy. She said 
 nothing beyond her impatient cluck with her tongue. 
 
 Rudd felt miserable. 
 
 " I'll run and get another," said Doran. 
 
 " It's quite useless," she replied icily. " That 
 catalogue was full of marks, and was intended for 
 Aunt Augusta. I always mark a catalogue for her." 
 
 " Then we must go again, that's all," said Doran. 
 " I don't expect your opinion of the pictures will 
 have changed." 
 
 " This time I shall go alone," she replied. 
 
 A silence fell on the table. 
 
 Since misfortunes never come singly, it need hardly 
 be said that the croquettes were cold and had to go 
 back. 
 
 " Why don't you send for the manager ? " the angel 
 asked her husband. " It's perfectly atrocious not 
 getting better attention at an expensive place like 
 this too. He never asserts himself in restaurants," 
 she added to Rudd. " I can't make him." 
 
 The croquettes eventually returned, but her appe- 
 tite had then left her. 
 
 " She's got one of her headaches to-day," Doran 
 bravely stated. 
 
 " I never felt better until we came into this place," 
 she replied. " If only you would assert yourself, 
 Robert." 
 
 Over the mixed bAtisserie, however, she softened
 
 THE ANGEL AGAIN 263 
 
 a little, and she smiled graciously on Rudd when it 
 was time to leave for the matinee, but for Doran she 
 had only gloom and displeasure. 
 
 Rudd sat on over a cigar and recalled Chislehurst 
 Poor old Doran was in for it. That kind of girl 
 wanted a master. He must have disappointed her 
 very grievously in some way. Poor old Doran. How 
 did the words go " Love, honour and obey " ? 
 
 Rudd shuddered. Of all his betes noires there was 
 none more dreadful than a " vinegar " ; and broken 
 promises distressed him poignantly. Young married 
 people should be happy and loving it was monstrous 
 if they were not. Quarrels were horrible. At this 
 rate, what on earth would the Doran manage be like 
 in another year or so ? 
 
 For a day or two it amused him, as he walked 
 about, to pick out the kind of girl who might have 
 made Doran a perfect wife. 
 
 But for himself not yet did he seek.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 THE DREAD SMALL HOURS 
 
 HALF -PAST THREE in the morning was 
 always Rudd's worst time. If he woke earlier 
 he could sleep again quickly; if he woke later he 
 could sleep again quickly; if he woke then he was 
 doomed to eternities of wakeful self-reproach, remorse, 
 and hopelessness. Normally he could shake trouble 
 off; at 3.30 a.m. he was powerless. Despair and he 
 were wed. 
 
 Rudd grew up late if ever he grew up at all in the 
 full sense of the phrase. He had indeed two halves, 
 the development of one of which was permanently 
 arrested. Side by side with a cynical preparedness 
 for every kind of disillusion dwelt a childlike en- 
 thusiasm for gaiety and entertainment, for life in its 
 essence. 
 
 To every place where life was to be found or, in 
 other words, creativeness, mastery, authenticity, no 
 matter in what medium Rudd was sure to go. His 
 constant quest was for the genuine, and his pleasure 
 on finding it was intense and absorbing. To this, to 
 
 such a store of beguilements, was due the quickness 
 
 264
 
 THE DREAD SMALL HOURS 265 
 
 of his recoveries from hopelessness and probably the 
 prolonged duration of his childhood. 
 
 Different are the armaments with which men stave 
 off the arch-fiend Anno Domini ; Rudd's was a critical 
 curiousness, so varied as almost never to be lacking 
 a field of investigation. Too seldom was it re- 
 warded by complete satisfaction, but when it was, his 
 state for a while was ecstatic. He rejoiced to be able 
 to praise. 
 
 But at 3.30 a.m. ! He had no resources then, no 
 anodyne. Then, his brain whirled with thoughts dark 
 and not to be vanquished. Then, the past was a 
 procession of lost opportunities and unfortunate 
 deeds, the present an anguish, the future merely an 
 accelerated progress, marked by poverty and illness, 
 towards the grave and cold unimaginable vacuity 
 with Mr. Dimsdale. 
 
 It was then that Rudd envied his mother her 
 simple faith. At 3.30 a.m. religion in whatever form 
 you take it, but preferably, I suppose, in the taste- 
 less capsule form as put up by Rome, is indeed a 
 comfort and a joy. One can make an excellent show 
 without it during the week, and even on Sundays : 
 but at 3.30 a.m.! 
 
 Rudd, however, drew no solace from that source. 
 Such Christianity as he had was from the common 
 stock which warmed the world before Galilee was a 
 lake and which can never cease. It was of the heart, 
 not the head. Dogma found him unresponsive and 
 left him shivering.
 
 266 LANDMARKS 
 
 One night Rudd woke again, at the dread hour, 
 with the sudden recognition of a new truth. 
 
 He had been on a flying visit to Caston, and had 
 looked up several old friends, and had seen in the 
 streets several persons whom he had known by sight 
 years before. To his immense astonishment he 
 had recognized quite a number from their backs ; and 
 had then formed a conception of what time had been 
 doing with their faces, and found it more or less 
 accurate. 
 
 There was a debt-collector whom he used to see 
 almost every day, years ago; and yesterday he had 
 seen him again. The debt-collector was stouter and 
 thicker; that was all. His step was still brisk, and 
 his eye still alert for acquaintances to whom to 
 flourish a hand. 
 
 For some reason or other Rudd was surprised to 
 find him still alive. He had a kind of feeling that all 
 these people ought to be dead by now. Again and 
 again upon identifying men whom he had known as 
 younger men or even youths he had this thought : 
 that it was marvellous they were still alive. Yet he 
 was only in the middle twenties himself. 
 
 And what a life for the debt-collector to have been 
 leading all that time! just the same, day after day, 
 putting pressure on unfortunate persons with whom 
 money was tight. Extracting an instalment here, 
 threatening a summons there, all his life. Had 
 he ever, Rudd wondered, wanted to do anything 
 else, or was he contented ? Was his ambition
 
 THE DREAD SMALL HOURS 267 
 
 fulfilled ? Now it was too late to alter ; this was the 
 end. 
 
 Rudd visited some acquaintances in business. Their 
 offices seemed so provincial, so unlike London. Lon- 
 don, although so near, seemed so far away. To live 
 in the real country was all right; but how could 
 anyone willingly live in a provincial town? Rudd 
 would have perished sooner. Yet these friends of his 
 seemed quite happy : their lives were cheerfully spent 
 within these narrow boundaries. Rudd laughed and 
 joked, but also he shuddered, so little of a philosopher 
 was he, so fundamentally unprepared for any facts 
 except the facts that he wanted. 
 
 He found his relations growing older. But then 
 every one was growing older. It was the foolish rule 
 of life. And old age was seldom attractive. He 
 noticed that double or even treble chins seemed to be 
 a rule among his kith and kin, and wondered what 
 steps he could take against himself falling into that 
 fashion. 
 
 He met a pretty woman, with two small boys in 
 red jerseys, one on each side, tugging at her hands. 
 Good heavens ! surely that was Violet Ward. 
 
 She looked closely at him and then smiled. 
 
 He stopped. 
 
 Years ago he had called her Violet. But he couldn't 
 do so now. 
 
 " Of course I know you," he said, " but I don't know 
 your new name." 
 
 How extraordinary that since he had left and she
 
 268 LANDMARKS 
 
 had grown up and put up her nice fair hah, the world 
 should be richer by these two romping boys in red 
 jerseys ! It was all so mechanical. 
 
 " Are these all ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " Oh no," she said. " There's Winnie, she's at 
 school at Eastbourne. Couldn't you come and see 
 us ? " she added. " My husband would be so glad 
 to meet you. You must remember him Harold 
 Beames." 
 
 Harold Beames. Rudd remembered the little beast. 
 Fancy a nice girl like Violet marrying Harold Beames 
 and having three children ! What a world ! 
 
 He excused himself and passed on. But the thought 
 of the little tugging boys in the jerseys remained with 
 him. 
 
 He passed the Town Hall and remembered the 
 lecture on astronomy. He walked out to his grand- 
 father's house, and it had gone and a new road was 
 cut through the place where it stood. A wagon was 
 passing right through the beautiful garden, where 
 once were grass and croquet hoops and geraniums 
 and lobelias, and fat yellow and brown calceolarias 
 which you pinched between your fingers. Change 
 truly was the law of life: hurrying, thoughtless, 
 foolish, ruthless mutability. 
 
 His uncle Hector, who had retired from the gover- 
 norship of the gaol, asked him when he was going to 
 marry. In fact, that was a question of which he had 
 been conscious on all sides, spoken and unspoken. 
 
 Why should every one marry ?
 
 THE DREAD SMALL HOURS 269 
 
 "Ah!" he had said lightly, "when the Fairy 
 Princess comes my way." 
 
 " Don't put it off too long," said Uncle Hector. 
 " It's time you settled down." 
 
 That insufferable phrase. Why was there this con- 
 spiracy to abbreviate irresponsibility ? It seemed 
 that no one in this world could be really happy so 
 long as one living soul remained unsettled down. 
 
 With what relief he had taken his seat in the rail- 
 way carriage on the way back to London, leaving 
 Caston behind. Not that he was not fond of them 
 all. He was, and he liked to revive old memories. 
 But he could not breathe. London was the place. 
 London was the centre. In London you could have 
 impulses and gratify them ; in short, live. 
 
 That night Rudd woke at 3.30 a.m. with his mind 
 full of his Caston experiences. He had been remem- 
 bering them in his sleep rather than dreaming. And 
 in a flash the realization came to him that he who 
 was such a foe to crystallization was crystallizing too. 
 The experimental stage of life, in which he had always 
 unthinkingly placed himself, which was to end at any 
 moment that he might select and turn into the real 
 career, suddenly showed itself in its own true colours 
 as routine too. 
 
 He, the free, the amateur, the cultivator of amusing 
 impulse he also was in the machine ! In short, what 
 he thought was only the curtain-raiser was really the 
 play. 
 
 He lay awake in a panic. He too was in the trap.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 RUDD IS LAUNCHED 
 
 RUDD, as usual, took his depression to Uncle 
 Ben. 
 
 " Come to Fort's and dine and we'll talk it over," 
 said Uncle Ben. 
 
 Uncle Ben hated foreign cooking and disliked 
 clubs, and Fort's had become his headquarters. It 
 was a chop-house of the old type, with high-backed 
 recesses to hold four, and a great open fire. Also 
 there were no women. Fort's prided itself on this 
 exclusion of triflers, on its beef, on its old ale, and on 
 the extreme deliberation of its processes. It was 
 quite a simple matter to have to wait twenty minutes 
 for a plate of cold meat. Strangers resenting this 
 fumed and went away, vowing never to return ; which 
 was precisely what Fort's wanted. Meanwhile the old 
 customers looked on with amused expressions, or, buried 
 in the illustrated papers, disregarded the disturbance. 
 
 No dentist or physician took in so many illustrated 
 papers as Fort's ; and it transcended Harley Street 
 in its lavishness in the matter of Punch, for it pro- 
 vided two copies, 
 
 70
 
 RUDD IS LAUNCHED 271 
 
 How Fort's kept enough prosperity to continue, 
 no one could understand, for when it was full it could 
 hold no more than thirty, and every one sat so long 
 that relays of customers were difficult, and no one 
 ever drank the sparkling wine on the profit of which 
 so many restaurants chiefly live. 
 
 Fort's had two waiters only, Mark and James, 
 and they had been there since the beginning of time. 
 Both were wealthy old men. Mark owned a row of 
 houses in Bermondsey; James had a small eating- 
 house of his own in Southwark. Each was, if 
 possible, a slower waiter than the other, and had 
 either of them taken the place of the tortoise in the 
 famous race with the hare nothing could have pre- 
 vented the hare's victory. None the less, Uncle Ben, 
 who was impetuous enough in most ways, clung to 
 Fort's ; although a stranger hearing the things that 
 he would say to Mark and James concerning their 
 origin, their personal unsightliness, their incorrigible 
 depravity, and the debased quality of the food and 
 drink which they reluctantly distributed, would have 
 marvelled that he was there at all. 
 
 Yet there he was, every day, and such, to the 
 initiated, was the endearing nature of his abuse, that 
 he was also Mark and James' special favourite. It was, 
 as a matter of fact, he who had arranged for Mark's 
 son to become articled to an architect, and for James's 
 son to be set on the road towards the highest goal in 
 life in the Jacobean eye, chartered accountancy. 
 
 "Why I should do so much for so hopeless a
 
 272 LANDMARKS 
 
 villain as you are, James, I don't know," he had said, 
 and had done it. 
 
 Such was Fort's, and here were Rudd and Uncle 
 Ben on the memorable evening when Uncle Ben 
 suddenly remarked, " There must be no more non- 
 sense. You must write a book." 
 
 " I wish I could," said Rudd. 
 
 " Of course you can," said Uncle Ben. " You are 
 writing all the time, aren't you ? Very well then. 
 You can write a book." 
 
 Rudd pointed out what a difference there was 
 between a brief journalistic effort and a long sustained 
 novel. 
 
 " I didn't say a novel," said Uncle Ben. " I said a 
 book. A novel, if you like, but not necessarily." 
 
 " Every novel I read," said Rudd, " fills me first 
 with a desire to write one like it, or better, and then 
 with despair that I never could." 
 
 "And I hope you never will," said Uncle Ben. 
 " What is the use of writing a book like any other 
 book? The way to write a book the one I want 
 you to write is to forget that other writers exist. 
 Now, I've got a proposal to make. I want a book 
 written and I am prepared to pay you for writing it. 
 But of course it will be your property." 
 
 Rudd could not believe his ears. 
 
 " It is the kind of book which a journalist can 
 write better than anyone else," said Uncle Ben : 
 "detached episodes that combine. I want it to 
 consist of a series of studies of the old-book shops
 
 RUDD IS LAUNCHED 273 
 
 of London and of their proprietors. Not merely the 
 central ones, but the outlying ones. A guide for 
 the book-hunter everywhere in this city. Americans 
 will love it, and that is not an undesirable result. Go 
 not only to Quaritch's and Bain's and Dobell's and 
 Sotheran's, but to the stalls by Farringdon station, 
 and the stalls near Butchers' Row in Aldgate, and 
 to that corner shop in the Mile End Road, and to 
 Camden Town and to Soho and to Westminster ; in 
 short, go everywhere, and potter about, and when 
 you find a real character set him down in black and 
 white. And sometimes you will find an odd book 
 and you will quote from it ; and sometimes you will 
 meet some curious people while you are sauntering, 
 whom you must put on paper how they looked, 
 and what they said. Begin to-morrow; and bring 
 me the manuscript typed, of course; not in your 
 own ghastly fist this day next year. And on the 
 condition that you really work at it every day for 
 no matter how short a time for that's the way to 
 write a book (who was the fellow who said Nulla 
 dies sine linea ? I forget, but that's the way) on that 
 condition I'll give you half a crown a day, Sundays 
 included, for expenses. Is it a bet? " 
 
 " It is," said Rudd. " But you're much too good." 
 
 " Rubbish," said Uncle Ben. " Pure selfishness. I 
 want to read it. I wish I could write it myself." 
 
 And that is how the foundations of his first book 
 were laid. 
 
 Uncle Ben again ! That poor Japanese sailor who 
 18
 
 274 LANDMARKS 
 
 killed his boatswain in fair fight, but, being charged 
 with murder and fearing that he was bringing his 
 fellow-seamen into trouble, committed suicide and left 
 a letter asking their forgiveness, expressed a great 
 truth in Rudd's life when he stumblingly wrote, " Our 
 future often makes a lot of difference what sort of 
 friends we have."
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 AVON 
 
 IN one of his rambles among book -shops Rudd 
 met Avon : an elderly man, short and thick set, 
 with a grey beard and grey head and no hat, taking 
 down book after book, feverishly examining it and 
 putting it back again. 
 
 Rudd, standing near him, was doing more or less 
 the same. 
 
 Such contiguity can be very annoying to the first 
 on the field, and as Rudd drew nearer, the elderly 
 man became more feverish, now and then darting an 
 apprehensive and hostile look at what he took to be 
 a rival. For at any moment a treasure might be 
 discovered this part of the shop seemed a likely 
 area for such an event and it was unbearable that 
 one's claim should be thus jumped. All book-hunters 
 know the feeling. 
 
 Rudd, unconscious of his trespass, drew nearer, 
 when suddenly, with an exclamation of triumph, the 
 other snapped the covers of a volume together and 
 hurried with it to the bookseller. 
 
 A brisk conversation followed.
 
 276 LANDMARKS 
 
 " Ten shillings ? " said the customer, speaking with 
 an Irish accent " that's a lot of money." 
 
 " It's a scarce book," said the dealer. 
 
 The customer laid it down and searched his 
 pockets. 
 
 " I've only got six shillings," he said. 
 
 " I'm sorry I can't take less," said the bookseller. 
 
 " Then keep it for me and I'll call," said the 
 customer. 
 
 " That's what they all say," said the bookseller. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " the other angrily replied. 
 " Do you mean you don't believe me ? " He was 
 quivering with rage. 
 
 " I mean that since I've been in business here, 
 hundreds of books have been put aside for customers 
 who never returned." 
 
 " But, man, can't you see that I'm different? " 
 
 " I'm sorry, sir, but I can't promise not to sell it 
 if another customer wants it. Unless of course you 
 leave a deposit on it." 
 
 " Why, that's what I meant to do," said the other. 
 " I'll not be ranked with your rogues. You can keep 
 your book ! This isn't the only book-shop in 
 London. I'll go where I'm known." 
 
 He gathered up his bag and stick and hat, and was 
 stamping to the door. His thoughts were as plain 
 as though they were spoken : I want this book. 
 I've wanted it for a long while, and here it is. If I 
 don't pay the deposit and secure it, that young black- 
 guard there will buy it directly my back's turned.
 
 AVON 277 
 
 If he didn't know it was valuable before, he knows it 
 now. Damn everybody and everything ! 
 
 He laid down his bag and stick and paused 
 irresolute. 
 
 Rudd, who had no interest in the book at all, but 
 admired the old fellow's fine grey head and pug- 
 nacity, stepped forward. 
 
 " Excuse me," he said, " but would you mind telling 
 me where you live ? " 
 
 The Irishman stared at him in astonishment. 
 
 " I ask," Rudd hurried to say, for he realized that 
 in his present state of irascibility the foiled book- 
 hunter might do anything, " because if you live any- 
 where on my way home I would willingly lend you 
 the other four shillings for the book. I could then 
 go with you, and you could pay me back." 
 
 The Irishman melted instantly into the warmest 
 geniality. "That's very handsome of you, sir," he 
 said, wringing Rudd's hand. " I live in Bloomsbury, 
 in Hart Street." 
 
 "That's all right," said Rudd, producing the 
 money, " I've got time to call there ; " and they 
 started off. 
 
 On the way the Irishman talked without ceasing. 
 He said it was a book he had been looking for for 
 years; he said that the bookseller's conduct had been 
 insufferable; he said he had been hating Rudd for 
 being so near, which only shows how wrong one can 
 be, and he'd never cease to regret being so suspicious ; 
 he said he lived on a top floor with a housekeeper ;
 
 2/8 LANDMARKS 
 
 he said that Bloomsbury was so convenient and 
 healthy ; he said that in another minute he would 
 have punched the bookseller's head ; he said that he 
 had been working for years on a new edition of the 
 old dramatists; he said that he would never enter 
 that bookseller's again ; he said that his name was 
 Avon ; he asked Rudd many questions, but didn't 
 wait for the answer. 
 
 After two or three minutes on the doorstep, spent 
 by Avon in turning out every pocket for his key, 
 Rudd mounted with him to his flat, which he found 
 very snug and every wall covered by shelves of 
 books. Books also were on the tables, on the chairs, 
 on the floor. 
 
 " Wait here a minute," said Avon, " and I'll get 
 you the money and something to drink." 
 
 He left the room, and Rudd could not avoid hear- 
 ing a conversation just outside the door. 
 
 " Vyner, Vyner ! " Avon called. 
 
 " Here I am, Mr. Avon," said an elderly woman's 
 voice. 
 
 " I want four shillings," said Avon. " Give me four 
 shillings." 
 
 " Whatever do you want four shillings for in such 
 a hurry ? " was the reply. 
 
 " I want it for a gentleman who lent it to me." 
 
 " Let me see this gentleman," said Vyner. 
 
 " Certainly not," said Avon. " I'll not have you 
 peeping at gentlemen." 
 
 " It's not another of your begging scholars?"
 
 AVON 279 
 
 " Not a bit of it. It's a gentleman who came to 
 my assistance in a book-shop and enabled me to buy 
 a rare book." 
 
 " So you've been buying books again, have you ? 
 Aren't there enough books here already ? " 
 
 " Of course there aren't. I've told you a thousand 
 times no one can ever have enough books." 
 
 " Harbouring the dust," said Vyner. 
 
 " I'm sorry for that, I'm sorry for that," said Avon. 
 " But it can't be helped. Some day I'll have glass 
 cases. I've promised you, haven't I? I can't do 
 more. Now give me the four shillings like a good 
 woman, and bring in some cake and the whisky and 
 soda." 
 
 Vyner sighed, and Rudd heard the clink of coin. 
 Avon immediately after entered, all unconscious of the 
 penetrating character of his interview, and paid him. 
 
 Thenceforward they were friends, and even Vyner's 
 face could express welcome when Rudd paid a visit. 
 Rudd soon learned that not only was Avon incapable 
 of managing his monetary affairs but also his time. 
 He was financially sound enough, having sufficient 
 private means, but these were placed in Vyner's 
 hands, and she, being the most careful of women, 
 doled out only meagre sums and subjected Avon to 
 a severe examination as to their expenditure. How 
 he came to have so much as six shillings on the 
 memorable day, Rudd never discovered. It thus 
 followed that Avon was often a borrower, but he was 
 also the most meticulous repayer ; whatever else he
 
 280 LANDMARKS 
 
 forgot he remembered his debts. As to his labours, 
 the least trifle could distract him and upset a morn- 
 ing's work. The want of a date which could easily 
 be deferred would send him instantly to the British 
 Museum; and then he would sit up half the night 
 to make up for the lost time. The result was that 
 few of his writings reached print. He toiled away 
 like a philosopher in search of the elixir of life in 
 his case, a proof sheet and was eternally baulked : 
 a result due not less to his want of method than to 
 an illegibility of handwriting which often baffled 
 himself and which, with the advent of a typewriter, 
 became miraculously more complex. 
 
 Between the old man and the young a strong 
 friendship grew up, and they went long walks 
 together in Epping Forest and by the river to 
 Richmond and Kew, Avon finding in his well-stored 
 memory a quotation from the poets for most of the 
 natural phenomena before their eyes. 
 
 "Shakespeare, Milton, Keats, Wordsworth we'll 
 never beat them," Avon used to say. " The more of 
 them you have by heart the happier your life will 
 be, and the better you'll be able to criticize the new 
 men too ! " 
 
 Rudd was too young to accept this then, and he 
 continued to buy the new poets and find their 
 modernity and his own in sympathy ; but as the 
 years went on ... 
 
 Meanwhile Avon brought him back to reading 
 again.
 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 MISS BROOKE 
 
 RUDD had been again on Montmartre. Ever 
 since his visit with Mr. Bloor he had been con- 
 scious, far within, of the call of that mountain. For 
 a while, when he was more than usually occupied or 
 interested in his work, it would be almost stilled; but 
 it was never wholly mute, nor did either the passage 
 of time or disenchantment when there weaken its 
 appeal. Fond as he was of London and its greyness, 
 its crowds, its complacency, its irony, its want of 
 discrimination, its purposeless bustle, there came 
 moments when to emerge from the train upon the 
 scents and lights and intent self-centred activity of a 
 Paris street seemed the highest and most exciting 
 happiness. Partial as he was at heart and in the main 
 to discipline and routine, there were moments when 
 nothing counted except moral upheaval and the con- 
 version of night into day and day into night. 
 
 Rudd longed for the boulevards, but even more he 
 longed for Montmartre. That it was all a sham, he 
 knew, and yet for that sham and its glimpses of 
 reality amid its illusion he periodically hungered.
 
 282 LANDMARKS 
 
 Reserved as he was, with a horror of employing his 
 sleeve for any exhibitional purposes whatever, he 
 wished again to be among the unequivocal and un- 
 ashamed. That the daughters of joy are alsjrtthe 
 daughters of the horse-leech he was, as we know, 
 aware; yet those sparkling tunes that never ceased 
 from midnight till the sun was high : how he longed 
 for them once more ! 
 
 To be lost in Paris for a while ; to live at his ease 
 in a small hotel (no more of your pretentious Bris- 
 tols) ; to get up when he pleased and go to bed when 
 he pleased ; to loiter on the quays and in the Marais 
 until he was tired ; to sit outside a cafe", watching 
 French people and drinking French drink ; to eat 
 French things : this was periodically his longing, 
 and now that he had means to gratify it, he often 
 did so. 
 
 Englishmen who have lived in Paris laugh at such 
 feelings. But then Englishmen shouldn't live in 
 Paris. Paris is for the French to live in and for 
 foreigners to exult in on brief and crowded sojourns. 
 
 Rudd never boarded the boat train at Charing 
 Cross without ecstasy, and never returned to London 
 without deep content and satisfaction. That is the 
 way. 
 
 It was on the day after his return from one of 
 these visits that he met Helen. 
 
 If statistics could be compiled, it would be dis- 
 covered that it is at dinner that most men in the 
 upper and middle class first meet the women who
 
 MISS BROOKE 283 
 
 afterwards become their wives. If ever dinner needs 
 an apologist he will doubtless have to take account of 
 this fact. It was at dinner that Helen Brooke and 
 RucljJ met. 
 
 No sooner had he shaken hands with his partner 
 than he knew her to be likeable. Everything about 
 her emphasized this feeling. Most of all, she looked 
 thoroughly, healthfully, radiantly English, and at the 
 moment there was nothing English that Rudd could 
 not adore. 
 
 She was hardly less than his own height ; she had 
 rich brown eyes, a mass of dark hair, a merry mouth 
 and very beautiful neck and shoulders. She seemed 
 to be about twenty. 
 
 She said nothing about books. She said nothing 
 about plays. She adored golf. 
 
 "Do you play cricket?" she asked Rudd. 
 
 " When 1 get the chance," he said. But it was 
 difficult, he explained, for a busy man in town. He 
 went to see a match whenever he could get away, 
 however. 
 
 So did she. In fact she had been to Lord's 
 that day, and was going again to-morrow. 
 
 " Were you there to-day ? " Rudd remarked. " So 
 was I. That's odd ! " 
 
 Immediately he had said it he knew that there 
 was nothing odd in two strangers who had been in 
 different parts of Lord's that morning meeting 
 at dinner in the evening ; but the circumstance, 
 even without any supernatural element, seemed to
 
 284 LANDMARKS 
 
 bring them nearer, and that was what he devoutly 
 desired. 
 
 " I'm going again to-morrow," she said. " There's 
 going to be a good finish." 
 
 And golf she remarked later did he play that? 
 
 " Not yet," said Rudd ; " I was waiting till I was 
 too old for running games." 
 
 " You shouldn't wait," she said. " It's a great 
 game, and the better you play now the better you'll 
 play afterwards. I love it." 
 
 I suppose I must learn it, thought Rudd. 
 
 " I'm not much good yet," she said. " Captain 
 Trevor the one over there with the fair moustache 
 is teaching me. He's awfully pleased with me, he 
 says." 
 
 Confound him, I should think he was ! thought 
 Rudd. Blast these army men. He felt suddenly 
 immensely depressed, but glancing at her engagement 
 finger and seeing no ring there, he recovered his spirits. 
 
 " And riding that's the best of all," she went on. 
 "Do you ride?" 
 
 " I have never ridden anything," Rudd said, and 
 again his spirits fell. What a stupid empty life he 
 had led ! Why had his father never given him a 
 pony, as other boys' fathers did? He could easily 
 have afforded it. Why should Rudd be so handi- 
 capped? That infernal soldier over there was no 
 doubt in a cavalry regiment, and probably played 
 polo. 
 
 " No," he said again, full of self-pity, " I've never
 
 MISS BROOKE 285 
 
 ridden. I've missed a great many things in my 
 time." 
 
 " It's never too late to mend," she replied. " I 
 expect you've done lots of things that no one else has. 
 What do you do ? You look like a barrister." 
 
 " It's not as bad as that," said Rudd. 
 
 She laughed aloud. " Hush ! " she said, " my 
 brother's a barrister. Do you really hate them so ? 
 So do I all except him, of course. They always 
 know, and that's such a nuisance. Even Dick sets 
 all of us right at every meal. Then what do you do ? 
 I suppose you're an author." 
 
 " Why ? " Rudd asked. 
 
 " Oh, all clean-shaven men at dinner nowadays 
 are either barristers or authors," she said. 
 
 " Or both," said Rudd. 
 
 " Yes, or both. Books aren't much in my line, I'm 
 afraid," she added. " I'd love to be able to talk about 
 them, but I can't. I don't believe I've read a novel 
 this year." 
 
 After dinner Rudd decided to make a bee-line for 
 Miss Brooke directly the men entered the drawing- 
 room ; but Captain Trevor was too quick for him. 
 
 Rudd's heart sank, and with the best grace possible 
 he subsided into a chair by a lady-historian to whom 
 his hostess led him. What she talked about he had 
 no notion, for, though he said Yes or No at intervals 
 as the inflexion of her voice demanded, he was really 
 trying to catch what Captain Trevor was saying. 
 When, however, a servant entered to announce
 
 286 LANDMARKS 
 
 Captain and Mrs. Trevor's carriage he again became 
 ebullient, and thereafter gave the lady-historian all 
 his attention, and quite agreed with her that there 
 was more than a vacancy at the moment for a really 
 conscientious and minute study of Sir Christopher 
 Hatton and his times. 
 
 Rudd walked home warmed by new thoughts of 
 life's duties and responsibilities. The home was the 
 thing. How wilfully anti-social were the sterile 
 excitements of Montmartre. Hitherto he had been 
 detached in his attitude to women. Husbands and 
 wives together had seemed so stuffy. Babies in arms 
 had repelled him. Suddenly there appeared to be no 
 other ideal of life than to live it with one worn an, always, 
 for ever. ... In imagination he was conscious of the 
 warm smell of a nursery : the little clothes on the 
 guard before the fire ; a flannel one, a shade too hot. 
 A shallow basket with all the mysteries in it. A 
 kicking crooning pink thing on a dear lap. . . . No, 
 it was not good or right to live alone. A man should 
 be married. Not until he is married is he fulfilling 
 his destiny. 
 
 Rudd awoke in the night and thought all these 
 thoughts again. But his high spirits had gone, and 
 he now knew that this splendid girl was not for him. 
 How could she be ? He had no money, his pros- 
 pects were poor, and he could not play golf. And 
 even if he did win her what was there for them to 
 talk about ? They could not go right through life 
 on Ranji.
 
 MISS BROOKE 287 
 
 In the morning, however, when he awoke and saw 
 the sun streaming through the windows, he felt more 
 hopeful. After all, she was very young and only 
 needed taking in hand. And what a lovely creature ! 
 He had never seen such a neck and shoulders. 
 
 She had said she would be at Lord's, and Rudd 
 went there too and began to search for her. Pro- 
 bably she was with a member in the reserved stand, 
 but he looked everywhere else first. Then he stood 
 in front of the inn, borrowed a pair of glasses and 
 scrutinized the stand. Yes, there she was, looking 
 charming in white. With her was some ghastly 
 swine of a man a new one. They were talking 
 with animation. Laughing. Looking through the 
 glasses he could hear her laugh. What a lot of 
 people swells always seem to know! 
 
 Still, she had had no engagement ring last night. 
 Perhaps, however, that brute was going to propose 
 to-day. People often proposed at Lord's, Rudd 
 felt sure. In vain did bowlers bowl and batsmen 
 bat. Rudd, for once, had no interest in the game. 
 How soon he could see her again (that ancient 
 poignant problem) was his one thought. 
 
 What dinner begins, tea often completes, or at any 
 rate reinforces ; and Rudd next met Helen at that 
 meal. He had paid a duty call on his hostess, and 
 as luck would have it Helen was there too. Were 
 ever the fates kinder ? She was also alone, and was 
 willing to be accompanied home. Any lingering 
 doubt that Rudd may have entertained as to her
 
 288 LANDMARKS 
 
 being the one and only woman for him disappeared 
 long before her house was reached, and all that he 
 had now to contend with was the question whether he 
 was the man for her. 
 
 As to this he had the gravest misgivings, none new 
 but very insistent as he pondered, as (a) she was a 
 goddess and he was peculiarly mortal ; (&) she was 
 of rich and fashionable stock and he was simple and 
 poor; (c) she was of joyful disposition and he was 
 grave; and so on through many antitheses equally 
 deadly to a diffident man. And when these were 
 disposed of, there was still golf, for which he 
 could not possibly find enough time, even if he had 
 the enthusiasm ; and horseflesh, the very thought of 
 which appalled him. And then, as a last trifling 
 detail, how was he ever to get on such terms as 
 would make a declaration of love possible? And 
 what on earth had such as he to offer a girl to 
 induce her to give up her present gay and entertaining 
 mode of life ? 
 
 She had, however, promised to go the Gentlemen 
 and Players match with him.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 LOVE 
 
 r I ""HE Gentlemen and Players match settled it. 
 JL Rudd had had Miss Brooke all to himself. 
 They had sat side by side, very near ; probably too 
 near. They had had lunch together. He had taken 
 her home. She had promised to go with him to 
 another match next week. 
 
 She shook his hand warmly and, in a state of 
 ecstasy, he left her. This time there was no 
 doubt about it. It was love and love unalloyed. 
 No pity ; no animalism (at least not conscious) : 
 just love, beautiful, worshipping, transfiguring 
 love. 
 
 He had but one desire and that was to be with 
 Helen. 
 
 Rudd, however, although he was in love, was not 
 therefore overmuch in bliss. For one thing, Helen did 
 not know it and might not reciprocate. For another, 
 his nature forbade bliss except momentarily. It is 
 because love is an agony as well as an ecstasy that 
 so many men go without it. Their self-protectiveness 
 saves them, and the substitute for the real thing can
 
 290 LANDMARKS 
 
 be amusing enough. It is only the substitute that 
 millions know. 
 
 But apart from the fact that Rudd did not know his 
 fate and often feared the worst, he was one of those who 
 are instinctively always a little afraid of happiness. 
 A little suspicious. Perhaps it was a Puritan strain, 
 so common, too common, in England. Partly it was 
 his underlying tendency to melancholy and his passion 
 for the fact. Everything so makes for the conviction 
 that happiness is fugitive and the desire for happiness 
 the only feeling to which mankind is permanently 
 true, that it is easy to come to think of happiness 
 as unattainable and add that fact to one's conscious- 
 ness. " No," we say, " you may look like it, but how 
 can you really be that joyous sprite? It is but another 
 optical illusion." And by this time it has vanished. 
 
 But no one was happier in preparing to be happy 
 than Rudd could be; and no one was ever more 
 certain, sub-consciously, that the secret of life is to 
 want rather than to have. Anticipation far beyond 
 fruition ! 
 
 Unconsciousness is the thing, and Rudd had it not. 
 Time is such a headlong courser, with eyes always 
 on some distant winning-post. The rapidity with 
 which low tide turned to high and the sand dis- 
 appeared; the continual too soon arrival of bedtime; the 
 implacable transformation of a frolicsome kitten into 
 a sinister cat : these phenomena, observed in his early 
 years, alone would have embittered him against Time 
 and mutability. With a nature all ready to harbour
 
 LOVE 291 
 
 such resentment, as he grew older and saw how few were 
 the perfect hours of spring before it became summer, 
 and how few were the perfect hours of summer before 
 autumn, he grew more and more readily wistful and 
 despairing. 
 
 Hence Rudd had not the brave open-armed advance 
 upon pleasure. He looked at her narrowly and 
 doubtingly. Scepticism was of his essence. 
 
 All the same, to the best of his power he was in 
 love now. He could not sleep. He cared nothing 
 for eating. Somewhere within him burned a fire. 
 He adored everybody, penetrating to their delight 
 and pain with sympathetic X-rays. He helped old 
 women out of buses. He braced himself to lead a 
 blind man across the Strand. He gave twopence for 
 a box of matches. The sight of other lovers, how- 
 ever banal, caused his eyes to light and glisten. He 
 patted street children on the head. He beamed 
 unctuously on perambulators. 
 
 Crossing Whitehall one morning with his thoughts 
 elsewhere, he became involved with a slow uncertain 
 cyclist and was well mudded. The cyclist fell off. 
 Under ordinary conditions Rudd would have had 
 something very caustic to say about the mud, but all 
 he now did was to apologize and hope it was not his 
 fault. The cyclist, not being in love, told him em- 
 phatically that it was, damned his silly eyes, and 
 consigned him to everlasting punishment by fire. 
 Rudd took the sentence meekly as his due. 
 
 The person who had worked this transformation
 
 292 LANDMARKS 
 
 was quite an ordinary girl in the eyes of the world, 
 and something less in the eyes of her barrister 
 brother. But to Rudd she was all in all, everything 
 that he wanted a woman to be. For only lovers really 
 know each other, and if they are wrong they are 
 unaware of it and therefore they are right. Fact and 
 illusion, illusion and fact, have no divisions when one 
 adores. 
 
 Yet how could he propose that Helen should give 
 up everything and throw in her lot with so moody 
 and unsatisfactory a person as himself? He had 
 always been vaguely afraid of women ; there had 
 always been a gulf not to be bridged fixed between 
 their wonderfulness and his ordinariness. Not that 
 he had any disposition to go on his knees : there was 
 nothing of the mediaeval knight's reverence about 
 him; it was just the sheer inability of the shy and 
 self-deprecatory male to face equal terms with these 
 unearthly soignee creatures in frocks and frills and 
 hats, to whom neither dining-rooms nor drawing- 
 rooms offered any perplexities. 
 
 Helen, all unconscious, was queenly everywhere 
 queenly and frankly cordial. Her way with servants 
 too that touchstone ! Servants smiled greetingly 
 when they saw her, and she smiled upon them, but 
 they never ceased to be servants. 
 
 Now servants always made Rudd uncomfortable, 
 either in himself or for them. 
 
 For all her athleticism Helen never ceased to be 
 feminine, and those were just before the days when
 
 LOVE 293 
 
 a certain masculinity was adopted as an ideal and 
 girls took no pains not to be ugly. Helen, however 
 she might join in our national passion for killing 
 time and evading thought with the assistance of a 
 ball, remained a woman too. That firm, full young 
 bosom whose soft curves her golfing jersey so faith- 
 fully for Rudd's peace of mind too faithfully 
 followed was also a resting-place for a tired child. 
 Rudd knew that, and thrilled to the thought ; but it 
 brought him no nearer to familiarity. The miracle 
 remained. 
 
 Some men, even as boys, have a freemasonry with 
 the other sex. Rudd never had it, nor would he 
 have chosen to; with all its agonies and doubts, he 
 would not have foregone his awe. 
 
 And awe he felt in the presence of Helen, even 
 when in an effort to bring the talk round to his own 
 subject (as she in her kindness believed) she praised 
 the wrong book or the wrong picture. Mrs. Henry 
 Wood had long been her favourite novelist. 
 
 Rudd knew that Helen liked him, but that was all 
 he knew; and she liked so many people. He was 
 only one of the satellites of this dazzling luminary. 
 Her frank friendliness with infernal young asses drove 
 Rudd nearly mad. Discrimination is the thing. 
 
 Often when he suggested Lord's or the Oval, she 
 would reply, " Oh, I can't. I promised to go with 
 Billy Devereux," or, " I'm playing golf with Tommy 
 Gatacre." 
 
 They were both, this Billy and this Tommy, and
 
 \ 
 
 294 LANDMARKS 
 
 all the other Billies and Tommies in her vast acquaint- 
 ance, expensive and idle youths, and into this set he, 
 an indigent journalist, was proposing to break and 
 bear away its very jewel ! 
 
 No wonder he had bad nights. 
 
 Her people, too, were a difficulty. Her father was 
 an amiable dilettante who showed Rudd his various 
 treasures of art but maintained an aristocratic aloof- 
 ness. Her mother, perfectly dressed, was always either 
 coming into the house from a social event, or, perfectly 
 dressed, leaving the house to attend a social event. 
 Her eldest brother, the barrister, read every book 
 that came out, was personally acquainted with many 
 superior authors, did a little amateur reviewing, and 
 obviously had no belief in Rudd's powers. Her 
 other brothers were at a public school, and proficient 
 at games. 
 
 Add to these somewhat daunting circumstances 
 two or three men-servants who were perfectly aware 
 why Rudd came to the house. 
 
 He could hear them discuss him. 
 
 " After Miss Helen, he is ! " 
 
 " Not her style, is he ? I should say some of 
 that Sandhurst lot had a better chance." 
 
 " Oh, you never know. The high-steppers often 
 take a quiet one." 
 
 "What's he do?" 
 
 " I don't know. Newspaper man very likely, or 
 he might be a Government clerk. They've got all 
 sorts there."
 
 LOVE 295 
 
 " Well, one thing's pat she's too good for him." 
 
 " I should rather think so." 
 
 Whether or not these remarks were ever made, 
 Rudd had no difficulty in hearing them. To some 
 extent he could agree too. . . . 
 
 And yet she had got to be his. How could he 
 live without her? 
 
 But still he had said nothing not at any rate in 
 words. His deeps called to Helen's : that he knew. 
 Did she know it ? Did her deeps call to his ? (One 
 says deeps for the sake of convenience ; but shallows 
 also can call to shallows almost as though they were 
 the real thing.) 
 
 And how to put the thing to the test? Ought 
 he first to see her father? Some men would 
 have done so ; but how unromantic ! Ask Helen 
 first, and then see her father that was the braver 
 way. 
 
 But how ask her? In a letter? A letter would 
 be fairer perhaps, because he could be precise in 
 a letter: he could range the pros and the cons (Oh 
 yes ; he meant to point out the disadvantages of 
 an alliance with himself) with more cogency if he 
 wrote. He was never an exact or very coherent 
 speaker, and under emotion he might make the most 
 ghastly hash of it. Yes, he would write. 
 
 This decision he carried about with him for a 
 week. 
 
 But he did not write, nor could he say how his 
 proposal was actually made. All that he knew was
 
 296 LANDMARKS 
 
 that he went down to the Old Deer Park one after- 
 noon to fetch Helen from a foursome ; that they 
 walked along the river to Kew Gardens talking 
 about her handicap and nothing else in particular, 
 and came out of the Gardens hand in hand.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 THE PRICE OF HAPPINESS 
 
 AFTER their engagement Rudd and Helen were 
 always together. 
 
 His work suffered and his friends missed him. 
 Letter after letter came from Lavis (who after in- 
 vestigating the subject of medicine and surgery in 
 various foreign cities was again in London), contain- 
 ing invitations for this ramble and that, for suppers, 
 for London explorations. All had to be declined. 
 Avon suggested various expeditions and mentioned 
 that he was getting old and soon would not be up to 
 such walks at all ; and these too were declined, or 
 accepted and then at the last minute cancelled by 
 telegram. The first nightingale : they were to have 
 heard that once again, a mile from Chingford ; but 
 Helen, all unconscious, intervened. 
 
 Rudd had a pang or two about his defections, for 
 he knew that Avon counted on him ; but he allowed 
 the idea of his engagement to gloss over all. After 
 all, a man's first duty is to his girl ; there's nought so 
 sweet in life as love's young dream ; and so on. Be- 
 sides, Rudd liked his pupil, for she was now his pupil 
 
 297
 
 298 LANDMARKS 
 
 as much as his adored ; liked to be able to answer 
 her questions, form her mind, enrich her vocabulary. 
 She was getting the right epithets very quickly. 
 Hence if now he went into the country, it was 
 with her. If he explored London, it was with her. 
 If he went to the play, it was with her. 
 
 Then, after their engagement had been in progress 
 for three or four months, came an interruption of 
 felicity. Helen went to the North on a visit and 
 Rudd was left behind. 
 
 In this unaccustomed loneliness his thoughts 
 turned naturally to his friends. He first rang Lavis's 
 bell. 
 
 " Mr. Lavis has gone away on a holiday with Mr. 
 Allen," said Lavis's landlady. 
 
 With Allen ! Rudd was surprised and shocked. 
 Allen was just possible for one evening now and 
 then, but fancy going away with him, and into the 
 country too ! To inns in villages where there was no 
 escape at night ! Lavis must have been hard put to 
 it for a companion. But how on earth could lie have 
 wanted Allen ? 
 
 Rudd walked moodily towards Hart Street, where 
 he would find Avon and cheer him up. Poor old 
 chap, he had treated him very badly of late; but 
 under the circumstances that couldn't be helped. 
 After the wedding, things would take their right pro- 
 portions and their right place again and Avon and 
 he could often get a Saturday. No more week-ends 
 away with Lavis though, he feared. Hang it all,
 
 THE PRICE OF HAPPINESS 299 
 
 what a lot of compromise life demands ! How 
 marriage seemed to smother impulse ! 
 
 Rudd rang Avon's bell, thinking again of how glad 
 the old fellow would be to see him, and was hurrying 
 past the girl on his way upstairs, after his habit, when 
 she stopped him. 
 
 " Haven't you heard ? " she asked. 
 
 " No ; what ? " Rudd inquired. 
 
 " Mr. Avon was taken ill and he's at a nursing 
 home," she said. 
 
 Rudd turned white. " Is it serious ? " he asked. 
 
 The girl said that she hoped not, but Mr. Avon 
 would have to be there for some time. She gave 
 Rudd the address. 
 
 Full of self-reproaches he hurried thither in a cab. 
 
 " Is Mr. Avon well enough to see a visitor ? " he 
 asked the servant at the door. 
 
 " Mr. Avon died this morning," she said. 
 
 Rudd was stunned. 
 
 Poor old Avon dead ! All that impulsive keenness 
 stilled for ever ! No more walks, no more cordial 
 talks on poetry. 
 
 Rudd recalled with burning shame how often he 
 had put the old man off. 
 
 This rush of thought was momentary and he still 
 stood on the doorstep. 
 
 " What name is it ? " the girl asked. 
 
 Rudd told her. 
 
 "Then you're the gentleman he was asking for just 
 before he died," she said.
 
 300 LANDMARKS 
 
 Another stab. 
 
 Rudd walked home miserably. He could not ex- 
 onerate himself. No engagement to a young girl 
 justified this treatment of an old man. He attempted 
 no sophistry. He accepted the blame. 
 
 The death of friends is always sad, and particularly 
 so the death of elderly and lonely ones. Try as we 
 will, we can never do quite as much as we should for 
 any of these ; there must always be a margin for self- 
 reproach. Rudd knew that for Avon he might and 
 should have done far more. " One must be more 
 kind," he murmured to himself. 
 
 He woke up in the grey hours with a tinge of 
 bitterness against Helen for robbing him of two 
 friends, or at any rate for luring him to disloyalty. 
 Not only against Helen, but against woman, marriage, 
 domesticity. . . . He even asked himself, was she 
 worth it ? was any woman worth it ? What was Helen 
 doing for him, any way ? She was always jolly and 
 she was interested, but she was no real help in his 
 work. On the contrary, she was continually causing 
 him to neglect it, postpone, and then have to write in 
 a hurry, below himself. What a muddle it all was ! 
 And yet how could he give her up? Could he? 
 
 In the morning he had forgiven her, but he wrote 
 to Lavis a long letter suggesting an early meeting.
 
 CHAPTER XLI 
 THE BOOK! 
 
 RUDD entered his lodgings, soon to be vacated 
 for ever, with his head so full of Helen and 
 the immediate future that he actually did not, 
 at the first glance, realize what the big square 
 brown paper parcel, obviously containing books, had 
 in it. 
 
 Then he fell on it with a cry and slashed the string 
 in half a dozen places as the divination suddenly came 
 upon him that these must be his dozen presentation 
 copies of The Literary Nimrod, 
 
 No author can ever recapture the fine foolish rap- 
 ture which comes to him with the first bound copy of 
 his first book. Indeed from that moment, no matter 
 what other rewards it brings, authorship is a steady 
 declension. He may write better, or more accept- 
 ably, or more satisfactorily to the artistic conscience, 
 in later books, but they all suffer from the disability 
 of not being the first. 
 
 Late though it was, and tired though he had been, 
 Rudd sank into a chair and adored his bantling. He 
 fondled it and dandled it. His eye rested lovingly 
 
 30X
 
 302 LANDMARKS 
 
 on the page on which were these words and these 
 only: 
 
 DEDICATED BY PERMISSION 
 
 TO 
 
 H.B. 
 
 and he smiled at the phrase " by permission " and the 
 twist he had given it, for the permission was not 
 Helen's but Uncle Ben's, to whom Rudd considered 
 that the dedication rightly belonged, and who had, 
 of course, waived his claim. 
 
 Then he turned over the pages and might have sat 
 there reading the dear things in an ecstasy all night 
 had he not come upon so many misprints as to de- 
 press him. 
 
 And then he inscribed a copy for Helen, and a 
 copy for his mother, and a copy for Uncle Ben, and a 
 copy for his father, and a copy for Lavis, and a copy 
 for Luard, and packed them up before he went to 
 bed. 
 
 He also sent a copy to Voaden. 
 
 Alas that there was no Avon to send a copy to ! 
 But Rudd had yet to learn how often the one ideal 
 reader of every book is missing when the book is 
 ready. 
 
 Rudd had no hope of The Literary Nimrod 
 being reviewed in any indecent haste. " Published 
 this day " was a headline which in his wildest lapses 
 into conceit he never associated with a work from his 
 own pen, nor was he convinced that, great as the
 
 THE BOOK ! 303 
 
 honour might be, he quite approved of such rapid 
 appraisement of a year or so's labour. 
 
 None the less, since none of us are polar, on the 
 historic morning which made him an author indeed 
 he bought all the papers and searched them with a 
 microscopic eye, and an hour or so later he bought 
 the evening papers too ; but there was no review. 
 Two or three confessed to having received the book, 
 and that was all. 
 
 That evening, however, although he had drawn the 
 papers blank, a letter came from the excellent Romeike 
 asking Rudd if he might not supply cuttings regard- 
 ing a book which was already being written about on 
 all sides or words to that seductive effect. And 
 Rudd invested. 
 
 His own people wrote quickly but not too quickly. 
 None of them indulged in that swift manoeuvre, so 
 trying to an author, of saying that they were certain 
 to enjoy his delightful volume. 
 
 Helen, of course, he did not wish to hear from, 
 except orally ; her pride in the book was assured 
 even though she would never be able to pass even an 
 elementary examination on its contents. 
 
 Mrs. Sergison was proud too, but found much of it 
 too clever. Yet how wonderful to have made this 
 great volume out of old book-shops ! They had 
 always struck her as such dirty places, and it was a 
 miracle that Rudd, after"' rummaging about in so 
 many, had escaped disease. Old books must be 
 such vehicles for the conveyance of infection. When
 
 304 LANDMARKS 
 
 there was scarlet fever or anything like that in the 
 house, so many people, she was sure, rather than go 
 to the trouble of having all the books baked, sold 
 them. She had read The Literary Nimrod all 
 through and could not sufficiently admire her son's 
 cleverness. Bless him, and might he prosper and be 
 very happy. 
 
 Mr. Sergison was approving too. He thought it an 
 entertaining book,a little perhaps too much on the light 
 side. He hoped that Rudd had a good agreement 
 with his publisher. One must be careful about 
 publishers. Was it not Byron who said that 
 Barabbas was a publisher? His own dealings with 
 second-hand booksellers had not been fortunate, the 
 price they offered for a number of valuable Blue 
 Books being scandalous. Still it might be that there 
 were second-hand booksellers and second-hand 
 booksellers. If Rudd anticipated a new edition 
 Mr. Sergison could supply him with a number of 
 corrections. Had he been asked, it would have 
 amused him to read the proofs and prevent all these 
 errors. He thought that the booksellers mentioned 
 in the book owed Rudd a great debt, and hoped that 
 some at any rate would recognize this. 
 
 Uncle Ben could not have been more delighted if 
 he had written the book himself. He, too, subscribed 
 to Romeike, and treasured every reference. 
 
 Lavis was more critical, but, on the whole, 
 pleased. 
 
 " You are a good boy," Voaden wrote, " to send me
 
 THE BOOK! 305 
 
 your book. I have read every word. It is good, 
 and you will do better. Whatever you do, never 
 take an opinion or valuation second-hand, and above 
 all never try to write like anyone else, especially 
 Lang. Ccme and see me." 
 
 The first review, and taking it all round the best, 
 was in The Post- Meridian. But this Rudd dismissed 
 as nepotism. Yet even the most nepotic can, of 
 course, stumble on truth now and again. This early 
 notice having done something towards giving the 
 book publicity, Rudd received three letters from 
 well-to-do friends asking where their presentation 
 copies were. Several second-hand booksellers wrote 
 to complain of being left out, and insisted on being 
 mentioned in the next edition ; while the widow of 
 a deceased member of the trade asked for the loan 
 of fifteen pounds for six months, or any gift of 
 money which so successful an author might be 
 moved to send her. 
 
 Rudd also had two or three letters from strangers 
 who would be glad to be informed as to which 
 bookseller gave the highest prices for old books. 
 Was there any demand for sermons and theology ? 
 Did it matter very much if three or four coloured 
 plates from The Life of John Mytton had been lost ? 
 
 In course of time the rest of the reviews appeared, 
 and they were all more or less friendly. With the 
 assistance of discreet elimination Rudd's publisher 
 could indeed make each of them intensely eulogistic ; 
 and as a matter of fact he did so. Thus the 
 20
 
 306 LANDMARKS 
 
 Chronicle said that " if it were not for certain 
 blemishes it would be a really good book." In his 
 next advertisement the publisher, who always him- 
 self attended to this department, attributed to the 
 Chronicles reviewer the four last words only. On 
 discovering this subterfuge Rudd was indignant, and 
 the publisher said that it should not occur again : 
 some clerks were over-zealous. 
 
 One of the nicest reviews, in that it had nothing 
 but praise, was in The Crusader. Rudd thought 
 it a little fulsome, perhaps, but it warmed him none 
 the less. A day or so later came a note from Gard, 
 whom he had never seen since that night, years ago, 
 asking him to look in again one evening and smoke 
 a pipe. What a memory the fellow had ! " I do 
 not say anything about your delightful book," Gard 
 added, " because you may have noticed my honest 
 opinion of it in The Crusader" 
 
 " Now," said Uncle Ben, " you must write a novel." 
 
 "Yes," said Rudd; " I feel at last that I really 
 want to. But I must wait till after the wedding." 
 
 " What will it be about ? " Uncle Ben asked. 
 
 " The rich and the poor," said Rudd.
 
 CHAPTER XLII 
 THE KNEES OF THE GODS 
 
 HELEN was comfortably seated in a corner seat, 
 talking to Uncle Ben at the window. Rudd 
 and Lavis paced the platform. 
 
 It was the afternoon of the wedding day and the 
 young couple were off to Cornwall for their honey- 
 moon. 
 
 Rudd wanted Innisfree, but there are better links 
 near Mullion it seems. 
 
 " We'll see you when we get back ? " Rudd said. 
 
 " I don't think so," said Lavis. " I believe I'm 
 going away." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " Oh, back to Vancouver." 
 
 "That's very sudden," said Rudd in dismay. 
 "Couldn't you wait a little? I've hardly seen you 
 for months." 
 
 Lavis smiled but said nothing, and the doors began 
 to be slammed. 
 
 Rudd entered his carriage. 
 
 " Good-bye," said Uncle Ben. 
 
 " Good-bye, good-bye," said Helen and her husband. 
 307
 
 308 LANDMARKS 
 
 " Good-bye," said Lavis. 
 
 " Good-bye, good-bye," said Rudd and his wife. 
 The train moved steadily out . . . 
 " Well," said Lavis, " so that's done. What do you 
 think ? Is it all right ? " 
 
 " If he doesn't grow out of her," said Uncle Ben. 
 
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 29 
 
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 FICTION 
 
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 JOSEPH. Frank Danby. 
 
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