. d* font
 
 Bell's 3noian ano Colonial 
 
 A SAINT IN MUFTI
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 THE NEW ANDROMEDA 
 
 HER HIGHNESS'S SECRETARY 
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 A BRIDE OF JAPAN 
 
 THE MANDARIN 
 
 THE GRAND DUKE 
 
 ONE FAIR ENEMY 
 
 CLEODORA 
 
 This Edition is issued for circulation in India and the 
 Colonies only.
 
 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 CARLTON DAWE 
 
 LONDON 
 GEORGE BELL & SONS 
 
 1910
 
 RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED, 
 
 BRBAI) STRRBT HILL, E.C. AND 
 
 BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.
 
 600 "7 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. TAGE 
 
 I CONCERNING A VERY WORTHY GENTLEMAN . ^ 
 
 II BITTER ALOES . 26 
 
 III WOMAN ........ 44 
 
 IV A DERELICT 55 
 
 V BETTY 69 
 
 VI THE INTERVIEW 82 
 
 VII PERSUASIVE ARGUMENT 98 
 
 VIII MRS. NUTTALL IS CONFIDENTIAL . . . 106 
 
 IX FURNISHING THE DERELICT . . . .119 
 
 X BY THE RIVER 131 
 
 XI MR. BOB LANGFORD 143 
 
 XII THE CHARM OF SEX . . . . . l6l 
 
 XIII THE CHARM OF SEX (CONTINUED) . . . l8o 
 
 XIV THE MAJOR SEES A GHOST . . . -195 
 
 xv THE MAJOR'S SECRET 204 
 
 XVI SOME FURTHER CONFIDENCES OF MRS. NUTTALL . 2l8 
 
 XVII THE ACTOR MAN'S SECRET . . . .228 
 
 xvin "NOW YOU KNOW" ... . 242 
 
 XIX CRUMBLING FOUNDATIONS OF A CONFEDERACY 251 
 
 XX MR. LANGFORD INTERVENES .... 264 
 
 XXI MRS. NUTTALL SEES A MIRACLE . . . 282 
 
 XXII BEYOND THE REACH OF PHILOSOPHY . .297 
 
 XXIII THE DRIFTING OF THE DERELICT . . .314 
 
 XXIV THE DERELICT ENTERS PORT .... 325
 
 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 CONCERNING A VERY WORTHY GENTLEMAN 
 
 MAJOR SARNING turned on his pillow, alternately 
 coaxing and pounding it to subjection. But the thing, 
 utterly lacking in sympathy, and of a truly philistine 
 descent, outraged at every turn his aesthetic sense. 
 It was lumpy, brutal, unyielding, and singularly 
 devoid of all the finer sensibilities of any self-respect- 
 ing pillow. Perhaps it was also a little weary of the 
 Major. One never knows. Why should not an 
 article of furniture, subject though it be, resent an 
 undue imposition ? Even the springs of a well-bred 
 and thoroughly docile Chesterfield will assert them- 
 selves at last. There can be no doubt that Major 
 Sarning made inordinate demands upon his pillow. 
 
 But the thing would neither be cajoled nor bullied, 
 which caused the Major to yawn, and ultimately to 
 stretch himself. Then, with a last despairing effort, 
 he turned his face to the wall and resolutely strove to 
 forget the encroaching day. But daylight in London, 
 even in the middle of autumn, will not always be 
 denied ; and the Major was eventually forced to realize 
 that whether he liked it or not, this was the beginning 
 
 7
 
 8 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 of another period of battle and purgatory. The 
 calendar told him that each day was comprised of 
 twenty-four hours, but to his thinking the man who 
 invented the almanac was entirely lacking in the 
 higher imaginative qualities. For to say that the day 
 held neither more nor less than twenty-four hours was 
 patently absurd to one with any experience of life. 
 Some days, especially when funds were low, and relief 
 nebulously glimmering through the dim distance, he 
 was sure that each hour might easily be multiplied by 
 four; whereas, on the other hand, the indecent haste 
 in which rent day came round, or the period in which 
 a trifling loan fell due, convinced him that there had 
 been some officious method of subtraction going on. 
 Therefore, to equalize matters, as it were, and get 
 back a little bit of his own, he strove assiduously to 
 show his contempt of time by ignoring it, nor could he 
 think of a more disdainful method of exhibiting that 
 contempt than by resolutely refusing to admit the 
 advent of a new day. Besides, in spite of the unsym- 
 pathetic pillow and the lumpy mattress, there was a 
 certain amount of comfort beneath the blankets, and, 
 what was even more to the point oblivion. 
 
 The Major, it will be seen, had a nice aesthetic 
 sense, even though he happened to be one of those 
 unfortunate persons whose ideas are more profound 
 than their purses. "But," said he, "I am a man of 
 the world, and the w r orld is an open book of life 
 wherein all may read, but which, happily, only the 
 few read to advantage. I am one of the few." 
 Though what advantage he had ever gained was as 
 nebulous as the gold pieces in his pocket. 
 
 Still, it was a fine philosophy, and if it had not 
 borne him triumphantly along the stream of life, it
 
 A VERY WORTHY GENTLEMAN 9 
 
 had taught him infinite patience, and a firm belief 
 in the utility of ideas. 
 
 "Ideas," said the Major, in one of his inspired 
 moments, "are the incomparable assets of life. I have 
 no money, but I have ideas : ideas are money, there- 
 fore I have money." Though he reasoned syllogistic- 
 ally, like a good logician, he may not have found 
 his logic work out well in practice. Fortunately for 
 him he had that supreme contempt of detail which 
 is the indubitable sign of genius. 
 
 At length, after much deep cogitation, he sum- 
 moned up sufficient energy to throw aside the bed- 
 clothes, stalk out on to the landing and ring the bell. 
 It was unfortunate that the builders had forgotten to 
 place a bell in his room, an omission at which he 
 was never weary of complaining; but it is to be pre- 
 sumed that the gentlemen responsible for the con- 
 struction of that house argued, and not without 
 reason, that the person fortunate enough to live so 
 near the stars would naturally be above all earthly 
 considerations. Still, he could not deny that bells 
 were useful things in their way especially as the 
 bare boards of the landing responded unsympathetic- 
 ally to the tender soles of his feet. He skipped 
 back into bed again with a most commendable 
 energy. 
 
 "Bed," said he, in another of his philosophic out- 
 bursts, "is man's most supreme invention. People 
 talk of railways, steamships, aeroplanes, telephones 
 and the electric light, but what are they all in com- 
 parison to this most amazing and delightful of con- 
 ceptions ? the tired man's friend, the sick man's 
 solace, the rich man's joy, the poor man's hope. 
 Nay, even the king on his throne, bored to tears with
 
 10 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 a ceaseless round of pleasure, finds the sweetest 
 moments of his life in thy entrancing oblivion. With 
 a sigh of relief the working woman turns to thee; 
 with joy the never-working woman creeps into thy 
 downy recesses and dreams of conquests in the air, 
 and the mazes of marital infidelity. Of all places under 
 heaven there is only one place in which we all meet 
 as equals, and that is between the sheets when we 
 are lucky enough to possess them." 
 
 Soothed by this profound reflection he turned once 
 more to the wall, fully conscious of the sublimity of 
 his imaginings, and was slipping off into the land of 
 dreams when his door was pushed open with scant 
 ceremony, and a woman, bearing a tray, stood puffing 
 on the threshold. 
 
 The Major, for some reason best known to himself, 
 pretended to be asleep; but the lady of the tray, 
 sniffing contemptuously at the atmosphere, also had 
 her reasons for waking him. 
 
 "Your breakfast," she said, announcing the advent 
 of his coffee and roll in a manner which seemed 
 singularly lacking in elegance of tone. 
 
 "Eh, what ! " said he, as though starting from the 
 most profound of slumbers. "Is that you, Mrs. 
 Nuttall ? " 
 
 "Looks like it," replied Mrs. Nuttall, with a sharp 
 bark. "I brought your breakfast." 
 
 "So soon?" inquired the Major, strenuously 
 endeavouring to wake up. 
 
 "Soon!" echoed the lady. "It's after eleven. 
 Don't you think it's time you was up?" 
 
 "Really," purred the Major, "and I have a most 
 important appointment with my solicitors at eleven- 
 thirty."
 
 A VERY WORTHY GENTLEMAN 11 
 
 "I 'ope it's from Ireland?" suggested Mrs. 
 Nuttall. 
 
 "Most remarkable prescience," exclaimed the philo- 
 sopher, evidently lost in utter amazement at her truly 
 feminine perspicacity. "As a matter of fact it is about 
 my Irish property." 
 
 "Then I suppose you'll be able to give me a bit 
 on account? I 'aven't seen the colour of it for 
 weeks." 
 
 "Really," he said, "you are most thoughtful." 
 
 "Ten weeks at five shillings a week is fifty shillings, 
 an' fifty shillings is two pound ten," continued im- 
 placable destiny. 
 
 "So it is," assented the culprit. "Your arithmetic 
 is absolutely flawless." 
 
 "An' Nuttall says " 
 
 "I am sure Mr. Nuttall fully comprehends, and 
 appreciates, the unhappy straits into which unsym- 
 pathetic destiny has plunged me." 
 
 "I don't think," she replied oracularly. "At the 
 same time Nuttall 'as to get up an' go to work at six 
 o'clock so as you can lay in bed till twelve." 
 
 "I was always sure that Mr. Nuttall was the pos- 
 sessor of a nature that positively palpitated with 
 philanthropy, and this is irrefragable confirmation of 
 that fact." 
 
 "Oh," she answered stoutly, "Nuttall's all right. 
 'E works for 'is living." 
 
 "Happy Nuttall! Many times, happy Nuttall! 
 Happy in strenuous muscle and deft fingers; but 
 thrice happy in having for wife a woman of such 
 charm, tact, intellect and sweet sympathy. Nuttall is 
 to be envied, to be congratulated. And as for his 
 going to work at six o'clock, is not that also a benefit ?
 
 12 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 Just think how much more work he can do than if 
 he went at twelve ! Sweet, indeed, is the food that 
 a man earns by the sweat of his brow." 
 
 "I'm not so blooming sure," she answered. "Any- 
 way, you don't seem to sweat much over yours." 
 
 "I sweat mentally, inwardly," he said, "and con- 
 sequently suffer the more. To sweat outwardly, 
 though in its essence vulgar, is a relief to the merely 
 animal in man; but to sweat inwardly is to be con- 
 sumed by a raging fever. Do you think that coffee is 
 likely to take cold ? " 
 
 "Better cold corfy than none at all," she answered 
 sharply, "an' that's what it's coming to." 
 
 "Truly, you seem endowed with a most Minerva- 
 like wisdom this morning. The blue-eyed daughter 
 of Zeus, though she sprang fully equipped from her 
 father's brain, never started life with half your be- 
 wildering advantages." 
 
 "What's that?" she inquired sharply, her ears 
 alert, her eyes glaring suspiciously at the long figure 
 beneath the clothes. Though he owed her ten weeks' 
 rent, and looked like owing her more, she was not 
 one to sanction familiarity in the destitute. 
 
 "A classical allusion," explained the Major. 
 "Pallas Athene was born in her father's brain." 
 
 "Oh, was she?" snapped the good lady. "I sup- 
 pose there are people who'll believe anythink, but 
 please don't take me for such a fool. What about my 
 rent ? " 
 
 "Ah, with what haste we quit the slopes of 
 Olympus," he sighed, "and descend to base terrene 
 matter. Your rent, our rent, my rent ! If, out of 
 deference to my modesty, you will condescend to leave 
 me a little to myself, I will even assault the temple
 
 A VERY WORTHY GENTLEMAN 13 
 
 of fortune. My solicitor must not be kept waiting too 
 long. I owe you for ten weeks. Good ! " 
 
 "But it's not good," she protested. 
 
 " I meant it but as an adjectival exclamation," he 
 explained. "What are your ten weeks to my ten 
 years ? for it is fully ten years since my Irish tenantry 
 have paid any rent. It's a way they have over there. 
 But I like them, dear, merry, thoughtless souls. 
 Their forefathers have been for a thousand years on 
 the estate, so I suppose they have a whimsical notion 
 that it belongs to them." 
 
 "Why don't you evict 'em?" 
 
 "Esprit de corps, dear lady. The good creatures 
 have so entwined themselves around my heart that I 
 could not inflict so deep a degradation. Evict a 
 merry heart, trample upon the down-trodden, fling 
 poverty in the teeth of misfortune ! Ah, no ! True, 
 1 have my faults, but ingratitude is not one of them." 
 
 "Ingratitoode ! " she echoed in a tone of surprise. 
 
 "You don't know what I owe my Irish tenantry." 
 
 "But I know that you owe me two pound ten," she 
 said. " An' Nuttall, 'e 'as 'is ideas about things too." 
 
 "I have always regarded Mr. Nuttall as a man of 
 incomparable intelligence, and of a spirit infinitely 
 provocative. Is he a Baconian or a Machiavelian ? " 
 
 "He is an Englishman what pays 'is way." 
 
 "Thrice fortunate Nuttall! But, madam, in pro- 
 portion to the frigidity of my coffee you may perhaps 
 realize the warmth of my solicitor, through my inad- 
 vertence in keeping him waiting so long." 
 
 "Others are kept waiting too," she said, backing 
 towards the door. 
 
 "It is the fate of man," he answered sententiously, 
 "and incidentally that of woman also. That is where
 
 14 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 the philosophic calm is of such incalculable value. To 
 the man of patience all things must come in time- 
 even death itself. Have you ever thought of death, 
 Mrs. Nuttall of the grave, and of the possibilities 
 therein? The earth is at least kinder than man, ten- 
 derer than woman. It does not grudge us a lodging, 
 but gives us of its best, rent free, till doomsday. Of 
 all landlords there is none that can compare with the 
 grave. I think he must be Irish, or at least that every 
 graveyard is a bit of Ireland." 
 
 But Mrs. Nuttall, overwhelmed by this torrent of 
 transcendentalism, had fled, precipitately fled, and as 
 he listened to her heavy descent of the stairs a won- 
 drous calm spread itself over him like a cloak. 
 
 "Ah," he mused, "I was wrong to rack her tender 
 though expansive bosom. Yet it is not altogether ill 
 that even a landlady should at times be taught to 
 realize the mutability of life." 
 
 After much serious debate he arose and pulled up 
 the blind. Somewhere across the river the sun was 
 struggling through a mist. Even the very roofs and 
 chimney-pots which met his melancholy gaze reflected 
 the dreariness of life. A plane tree in a neighbouring 
 back yard lifted its leafless arms in a mute appeal 
 to the implacable heavens : a tabby cat stretched 
 along an adjacent wall was quietly taking unto itself 
 a new coat of soots. Somewhere in the adjacent street 
 a coster was shouting "beautiful *ake," and "lovely 
 'addicks " in a voice that startled the desolate waste 
 spaces of the earth. 
 
 The Major flung a shabby and not too clean coun- 
 terpane across his shoulders, drew a rickety cane chair 
 to the washstand, and sat down to partake of his 
 dejeuner. He always called it his dejeuner: it was
 
 A VERY WORTHY GENTLEMAN 15 
 
 an amiable weakness of his. Occasionally, when he 
 brought in over-night an ounce of ham from the 
 adjacent cookshop, he called it his dejeuner a la four- 
 chette. But he ate it with his ringers, like a Turk. 
 Such are the straits to which a Christian man may 
 come : though that did not distress him so greatly as 
 the fact that he always seemed to have more fingers 
 than ham. 
 
 The coffee was cold, and of surprising trans- 
 parency : the roll looked as though it might be ex- 
 pected suddenly to groan aloud beneath the weight of 
 years. Though he searched assiduously for the butter 
 he could not find it. Butter was evidently off. He 
 arose and went out on to the landing, but though his 
 fingers encircled the bell he did not ring. It would 
 have been unspeakably selfish of him to drag poor 
 Mrs. Nuttall, a good though stout woman, up four 
 flights of stairs. Besides which the smell of fried 
 sausages stole up the stairway and smote upon his 
 nostrils with incredible ardour, arousing in him an 
 almost overwhelming desire to partake of the fra- 
 grant dish. 
 
 "It's the Actor Man," he muttered. "That beggar 
 always lives on the fat of the land." 
 
 He stole back to his room and softly closed the 
 door. Then he ranged himself before the washstand 
 once again and heroically faced the antiquated roll, 
 which he broke with much difficulty, and soaked in 
 the cold coffee. But the insidious odour of those 
 fried sausages permeated even the closed door and 
 filled the room with its entrancing fragrance. His 
 brain grew dizzy, his mouth watered. He drew in 
 deep gulps of the exquisite perfume. 
 
 "Thus," said he, "man may breakfast by proxy,
 
 16 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 which is a great aid to a slender purse. Moreover, 
 this feast of the imagination costs me nothing, 
 whereas in three or four hours the Actor Man will be 
 as badly off as I am, and desire once more to replenish 
 the vacuum created by voracious nature. Hence the 
 sublime absurdity of gratifying the merely animal 
 craving. Presently I shall catch him up and cry 
 quits." 
 
 It was the philosophy of perfect expedience. The 
 natural laws of equity were immutable. Time was 
 the radical democrat of nature, the supreme leveller of 
 the universe. 
 
 He dressed with exquisite care. It is true he had 
 to shave with cold water and yellow soap; but what 
 are superfluities to the old campaigner ? Usually he 
 descended to the kitchen for his own hot water, but 
 to-day he had rather a dread of encountering Mrs. 
 Nuttall. She was not in a sympathetic mood, and he 
 possessed so profound an admiration of the adorable 
 sex that it pained him to discover a flaw in the least 
 member of that ravishing community. Woman 
 should be gracious, sweet, all dimpled smiles and 
 pretty fal-lals. He knew that Mrs. Nuttall was not 
 dimpled : he had something more than a suspicion 
 that she was not sweet. Her fal-lals almost invariably 
 consisted of an apron of brown sacking and a blouse 
 which strove valiantly to contain the amplitude of her 
 charms. Moreover, just then the Actor Man, who was 
 playing a small part at Drury Lane, monopolized 
 all her sweetness, having given her something on 
 account. 
 
 From underneath the mattress the Major drew out 
 a pair of trousers his only pair which he subjected 
 to a close scrutiny, here and there removing with
 
 A VERY WORTHY GENTLEMAN 17 
 
 much care the adhering specks of fluff. Though 
 rather baggy, there was yet much good honest wear 
 in them, while a judicious use of the scissors elimin- 
 ated the fraying at the edges. His boots gave him 
 pause. Already they had taken four soles, and he 
 had every hope of being able to utilize a fifth. But 
 the uppers were beginning to show the unwonted 
 strain to which they had been subjected, and he 
 feared that their days in the land were numbered. 
 
 He did not possess an overcoat, but that was an 
 inconvenience he easily surmounted by declaring that 
 he never felt the cold, that he was an advocate of the 
 open air theory, and that the great crime of the age 
 was the undue swathing of the body. For this reason 
 also he never wore gloves, though always careful to 
 carry a pair neatly folded. No one had ever seen 
 those gloves unfolded. Perhaps they didn't unfold. 
 
 Yet he was a fine figure of a man as he swaggered 
 along Tachbrook Street on his way to town. 
 
 "There 'e goes," said Mrs. Nuttall disdainfully, 
 gazing from the Actor Man's window on the first 
 floor. "Never guess 'e couldn't pay five shillings a 
 week, would you ? " 
 
 The Actor Man, thus apostrophized, looked up 
 from his sausage and mash, but said nothing. He 
 had known the difficulty of finding five shillings a 
 week. 
 
 Meanwhile the Major swung on. For him the 
 great daily struggle was about to recommence. He 
 was weary of it, weary to death of it, but like a true 
 soldier he faced the fearful duty. 
 
 "After all," he said, "it is the overcoming of diffi- 
 culties which brings out the truly heroic in man. 
 Man was made to struggle, to fight his way upward
 
 18 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 through the dark clouds of oppression. And in the 
 possession of his superior abilities kind nature has 
 armed him for the fray. I but revert to the methods 
 of my ancestors. They had to hunt and kill their 
 food before they could eat it : I have to hunt for 
 mine. Thus does nature, like history, repeat itself 
 ad infiniium." 
 
 "And again, ' Life is a battlefield.' " (What more 
 natural than that an army man should be prone to 
 military figures?) "The opposing forces join issue: 
 panic seizes one side and it flies. To the victors the 
 spoils. It is true I find no difficulty in carrying off 
 my share of the loot : indeed it might even with pro- 
 priety be suggested that I am on the vanquished 
 side. But I have never yet given way to panic. A 
 strategic retreat does not necessarily mean annihila- 
 tion. Guerilla warfare is always most trying to the 
 enemy. I am a guerilla of the guerillas, a hanger- 
 on to the skirts of opportunity. Vive la guerilla!" 
 
 Thinking thus he swung along Tachbrook Street 
 as though he owned it, and presently debouched upon 
 that melancholy thoroughfare known as the Vaux- 
 hall Bridge Road. Though he walked with so proud 
 a step he did not disdain to cast an eagle glance upon 
 the sooty pavement, or in the contiguous gutter, in 
 the hope that he might succour from shame some 
 neglected coin. But fortune did not smile on him, 
 or there were too many eyes in Pimlico as eager 
 as his own. 
 
 "The streets of London," he mused, "are paved 
 with gold; yet I am so abnormally short-sighted that 
 I cannot even distinguish the gleam of a solitary 
 piece of silver : while bronze, miscalled copper, is 
 as rare as the dodo. Singular commentary on estab-
 
 A VERY WORTHY GENTLEMAN 19 
 
 lished truth. Yet money, if one could only grasp 
 the fact, is but a poor substitute for happiness, for 
 that lightness of heart which goes with the merry 
 soul. The chink of the sovereign fresh from the 
 Royal Mint lacks that exquisite harmony which, like 
 the tintinnabulation of joy-bells, rings through the 
 soul of merit. I have the soul of merit. Fortune 
 cannot continue to ignore me." 
 
 In his pocket was one shilling and three pence, 
 which caused him much anxious thought. Yet it was 
 neck or nothing with him now. Being a soldier he 
 naturally did not know the meaning of the word fear. 
 Therefore he swaggered into an adjacent public-house 
 and chaffed the barmaid as she slapped upon the 
 counter his glass of bitter. Incidentally he also in- 
 quired for the evening paper, which he studied with 
 much intensity, alternately frowning and smiling : 
 frowning when he forgot where he was, smiling when 
 he thought the hard eyes of that shrewd-looking man 
 over in the corner were watching. Then he took 
 from his pocket a slip of paper and wrote thereon, 
 "3-45 Gallivanter to win." Into this slip of paper 
 he carefully folded his shilling, and with an easy 
 nonchalance drifted towards the man in the corner. 
 In some mysterious manner their hands met : the 
 piece of paper with the shilling enclosed passed into 
 the palm of the man with the hard eyes and the 
 shrewd face. When the Major emerged once more 
 into the street his existing capital was represented 
 by one penny. 
 
 "Fortune favours the brave," murmured the gallant 
 
 fellow, as he stood for a moment on the crossing to 
 
 ogle a pretty fresh-faced girl with soft, fluffy hair. 
 
 ' By Jove, a nice little filly ! " So wandered the 
 
 B 2
 
 20 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 thought within the thought. "Fetching little thing. 
 I wonder if she's very lonely ? " But she was gone 
 amid the crowd : a faint sweet sunbeam swallowed 
 up in the mists and confusion of life. 
 
 "It is true that solitary coin might have repulsed 
 this most persistent attack of the internal enemy," 
 he admitted somewhat reluctantly as he marched on- 
 ward. "But for how long? And I should then have 
 been without hope, whereas now there are possi- 
 bilities." 
 
 His face glowed with enthusiasm ; his eyes shone 
 with the spirit of adventure. 
 
 "One must have a little excitement," he said. 
 " What is life without hope ? To stagnate in the dim 
 regions of respectability, to know that you can pay 
 the butcher and the baker their little weekly accounts, 
 to buy boots for the children and settle their school 
 fees; but not to know the thrill of anticipation which 
 comes from high and daring endeavour how can one 
 live without this ? Not without reason has nature 
 implanted in me the capacity to appreciate the 
 highest. She knows that to whatever state she 
 may be pleased to call me I shall undoubtedly do 
 her infinite credit. She realizes, none better, that 
 throughout the various ramifications of life there 
 are always certain exalted spirits which rise superior 
 to their narrow environment, and she never forgets 
 them." 
 
 And she did not. At half-past one she reminded 
 him of her presence by a stabbing pain which pierced 
 his internal economy. At two o'clock she was 
 gnawing savagely at his vitals. 
 
 "I will go and look at Buckingham Palace," he 
 said, "and dream of luxury."
 
 He selected a free bench in the Green Park, a little 
 way back from the broad walk, which, however, did 
 not interfere with his view of the royal residence. He 
 glued his eyes to the rows of vacant windows, and 
 let his imagination revel in the luxury within. A flag 
 was flying above the great gloomy edifice. 
 
 "He's probably finishing lunch now," he whis- 
 pered, and there was a low moaning agony in his 
 voice; for at that moment implacable nature stabbed 
 him with fiery swords, and he grew pale beneath the 
 venomous assault. Then he closed his eyes and 
 dreamed for a moment of a succession of silver dishes 
 and wine that sparkled like diamonds. Stab, stab, 
 stab went those fiery swords. His lips twitched : the 
 mouth knotted itself into a multiplicity of curious 
 shapes. He slipped his hand into his pocket and 
 drew out the penny; and if burning, eager, wishful 
 eyes could transmute base metal it would immediately 
 have turned to gold. 
 
 " I'll take a stroll along Bond Street," he muttered. 
 "One must not sit too long in the open at this time 
 of the year." 
 
 He rose shivering, buttoned his coat closer, and 
 with a farewell glance at the palace turned away. He 
 left the park through the exit which leads into Stable 
 Yard, and thus entered St. James's Street. Here it 
 seemed much warmer, and for the moment nature 
 sheathed her swords. 
 
 "After all," he mused, "the indomitable spirit of 
 man must rise superior to circumstances. And there 
 are compensations. In my opulent days I was in- 
 clined to obesity. We really do eat too much. There 
 now," he continued, as he beheld three reverend bald- 
 heads in the window of a palatial club, "is full con-
 
 22 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 firmation of my theory. What would those overfed 
 creatures give to have a waist like mine ! " 
 
 It was three o'clock when he reached the Oxford 
 Street end of Bond Street. Sixty minutes at least 
 before he could know the result. And then ! The 
 swords went through his brain now, but this new 
 pain deadened the anguish lower down. 
 
 "This," said he, "is chiefly a question of mind 
 over matter. Things are not really what they seem, 
 unless we will have it so. How do I really know I 
 have not lunched ? Is there any tangible proof of it ? 
 (Stab ! stab !) I lunched yesterday, and the day 
 before. But could I swear to it? Might it not all 
 be fancy, as this is? (Stab! stab!) Can one be 
 positively sure of the evidence of one's own senses? 
 Who will deny that there is such a thing as hallucina- 
 tion ? All scientific men agree that what one sees 
 does not necessarily exist. Therefore, how do I know 
 that I have not " 
 
 But a more ferocious stab than usual cut short his 
 speculations. Wearily he passed his hand over his 
 eyes before venturing to cross the road. 
 
 "These motor-buses," he whispered, "positively 
 turn one giddy with their unspeakable pollutions." 
 
 He dawdled by the big shops. A stream of women 
 swirled against him, young women, old women, 
 pretty women, ugly women. No, not ugly women ! 
 The gallant fellow could not bring himself to think 
 any woman ugly. There were differences, distinc- 
 tions, if you will ; but being an idealist he saw beauty 
 where Schopenhauer saw nothing but imperfection. 
 It is true he was incessantly raising his hat and 
 apologizing; for in some wholly inexplicable manner 
 he seemed constantly to be getting in the way of the
 
 A VERY WORTHY GENTLEMAN 23 
 
 fair pedestrians, who more than once hissed the word 
 "clumsy!" But his apology was so evidently sin- 
 cere, his glance so full of a wistful humility, that the 
 offence was instantly forgiven and forgotten. 
 
 "I must get out of this crush," he told himself. 
 "The pretty faces and the bright eyes bewilder me. 
 I am growing positively light-headed at the sight of 
 so much loveliness. Presently I shall be committing 
 some unpardonable indiscretion." 
 
 Again he hesitated before recrossing the road. The 
 traffic roared by him like a river at flood. Two or 
 three times he stepped from the kerb and then in- 
 stantly drew back. Once the pallid-faced driver of a 
 van hurled a lusty curse at him. It was a callous 
 tide that rattled by. If it would only take one up 
 and bear one onward onward ! Already he was 
 floating away into infinity on that sea of traffic. Then 
 he heard a voice call, "Now, sir," and a kindly- 
 faced young policeman was beckoning to him from 
 the middle of the road. A strong hand grasped his 
 arm and led him over the dangerous way. 
 
 "You look ill, sir," the kindly voice was saying: 
 "don't you think you had better go home?" 
 
 Home ! The Major shivered. But the words 
 roused him just a little. Come, come, he must not 
 fly the signal of distress quite so openly. 
 
 He staggered down a side street. Passing a cheap 
 foreign restaurant he reeled as the unsavoury odours 
 of the kitchen, steaming up from the area, assailed 
 him. He drew in a long, deep breath of the biting 
 perfume, and his eyes grew moist. 
 
 "Somebody is eating," he whispered; "good God, 
 somebody is eating ! " 
 
 Presently he found himself in Soho Square. It
 
 24 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 was more peaceful, but singularly dingy and unsym- 
 pathetic. He was exceedingly tired, and an almost 
 intolerable longing to sit down, or to lie down, took 
 possession of him. But being what he was he could 
 not sit on the kerb, and there was no bench handy. 
 Fortunately the stabbings were not quite so sharp, 
 or else his stubborn defence had blunted those im- 
 placable swords. He had put up a gallant fight. 
 
 Just then a boy came tearing round the corner from 
 Shaftesbury Avenue, a bundle of papers under his 
 arm. He was bawling something, but what, the 
 Major could not catch. For suddenly there was a 
 hoarse roaring in his ears as though muffled drums 
 were beating hard against his tympanum. 
 
 "3.45 winner ! " 
 
 The boy looked up at him and the Major shoved a 
 penny in his hand. The urchin, seeing the gentle- 
 man's confusion, was so impressed by it that he for- 
 got to give him the change. In a fit of abstraction 
 he hurried away with incredible velocity. 
 
 For a few moments the gallant soldier stood with 
 the paper hanging limply in his hand. Then he 
 made a supreme effort to open it, but his fingers 
 trembled so violently that he found the utmost diffi- 
 culty in doing so. Indeed, he had to press the sheet 
 close in against his breast to gain the necessary steadi- 
 ness. Even then so deep a blur rose between him 
 and the printed message that he failed utterly to 
 decipher it. 
 
 "By Jove!" he murmured, "I shall soon have to 
 take to glasses." 
 
 He flung a hungry, aching look up and down the 
 street, and was relieved to find his temporary weak- 
 ness had not been observed.
 
 A VERY WORTHY GENTLEMAN 25 
 
 "Wonderful place, London," he thought. "No- 
 body cares. Now if I were in the bosom of my 
 family I should be forced to endure an endless stream 
 of solicitous questioning. The well-intentioned sym- 
 pathy of friends is at times apt to prove more than a 
 trifle embarrassing. The strong man bears triumph 
 or failure with equanimity. Harsh fate cannot shock 
 him, prosperous fortune smiles on him in vain. He 
 is not enticed by the glitter of her eyes, the entranc- 
 ing curve of lip, the supple line of figure. He knows 
 her to be a jade with all the charming fickleness of 
 her sex. Secure in the knowledge of his own integ- 
 rity, he gazes with contempt on the seething mass 
 of littleness beneath him. Am I a man to be deterred 
 by fortune, or flattered with her smiles? What do I 
 care if she smile or frown ? A woman who cannot 
 distinguish between the true and the false is not the 
 kind of creature for whom I should be likely to risk 
 my soul's salvation." 
 
 Again he raised the paper, and again the mist rose 
 between him and the printed message. Yet through 
 it, at the head of three names, he indistinctly de- 
 ciphered the letters 
 
 "Gallivanter . . . i." 
 
 Again he glanced at it, but this time he had to brush 
 the mist away with his fingers. Then he looked at 
 his fingers. They were wet. 
 
 "It's not a mist," he said : "it's a heavy dew ! "
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 BITTER ALOES 
 
 "I BELIEVE literature is my true vocation, after all," 
 said the Major, in an outburst of confidence. "By 
 nature I am a philomath, though base necessity has 
 frequently forced me into uncongenial spheres of 
 activity. Yet it is the soul of a man that counts 
 through the eternities, the true essence of him that no 
 fortuitous circumstance shall deny. What else are we 
 to learn from history, biography, the wide lesson of 
 experience ? Chance creates and chance destroys, but 
 is there not something to be said for the creator of 
 chance itself? I, if I will, may create: so may all 
 men. Nay, is not this in itself irrefutable proof that 
 man himself is a God, since in the act of creation we 
 behold the supreme achievement of the godhead? 
 True, there is also his power to destroy a lesser 
 achievement, I take it though there be some things 
 which defy the insatiable malignity of time itself." 
 
 These words of wisdom fell slowly from his lips, 
 as became their importance, impregnated, as it were, 
 with the fumes of a coarse tobacco, and inspired, no 
 doubt, by the subtle and elusive spirit which, tempor- 
 arily, had sought lodgment in his glass. The Major 
 grew profoundly contemplative when he was "in 
 tobacco." To him tobacco, though a common enough 
 commodity, had proved exceedingly rare at times. To 
 be "in tobacco" meant more or less to be in funds; 
 
 26
 
 BITTER ALOES 27 
 
 and though his wants were modest, there were occa- 
 sions when even his modesty seemed likely to go 
 a-hungering. 
 
 They were sitting in the Actor Man's front room, 
 that charming sanctum which had so often come 
 between the Major and his dreams. There were three 
 of them, the Major, the Actor Man, and a nondescript 
 sort of person called Alfred Hallows. Him they called 
 "Bitter Aloes " on account of the acridity of his spirit 
 and the sharpness of his tongue. 
 
 Bitter Aloes confessed himself a colossal failure. In 
 his teens he wrote poetry, in early manhood he wrote 
 novels, and now, at forty, having lost all illusions, 
 he wrote for the press. And, as if the irony of fate 
 could no further twit him, being by nature and con- 
 viction a Radical, a revolutionary and a republican, 
 he was attached to one of the most ultra Tory journals 
 in London, and with the aid of his glowing periods 
 helped to bolster up causes and institutions which he 
 cordially detested. The columns of The Epoch reeked 
 with his glorification of the House of Lords : he 
 approached the throne, on paper, with a reverence 
 which was irrefragably British. At the same time he 
 thoroughly despised those with whom he should have 
 been in sympathy. As a matter of fact his revolu- 
 tionary tendencies were purely theoretical, his anger 
 inexpressible for those who, like himself, only thought 
 things. Lots of people were thinking things, politic- 
 ally, but doing absolutely nothing. But then how 
 could they do anything when half the populace, and 
 that which should be the more progressive half, be- 
 cause the more intellectual, were still content to be 
 governed by a system of the Middle Ages? What 
 was to be thought of a community which sacrificed
 
 28 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 patriotism to party, a community which was ready to 
 create chaos for the sake of snatching a fugitive vote ? 
 It filled him with amazement that any sane English- 
 man should take his politics seriously, or wade 
 through the intolerable dulness of parliamentary 
 debates. But did any one with the exception of half- 
 pay colonels sleepily lounging in club arm-chairs ? 
 
 The Actor Man cared nothing for the hopes or the 
 failures of Bitter Aloes. To him politics were a 
 vague, unnecessary bore; literature was "rot," while 
 painting consisted of the masterpieces exhibited at 
 Drury Lane. But, self-centred as he was in his pro- 
 fession, he would talk actors and acting till the day 
 of judgment. He read the theatrical papers with some 
 assiduity; that is, he read the advertisement columns 
 with a view, principally, to finding out who was "at 
 liberty." Those two words invariably caused him in- 
 finite satisfaction. No one unconnected with the 
 theatre could possibly conceive the exquisite delight 
 he found in that simple phrase. Though more often 
 than not he had been "at liberty" himself, he had 
 never yet possessed sufficient of the wherewithal to 
 advertise the fact. This, too, was a grievance in its 
 way : but then life, especially that of the theatre, 
 was full of such petty annoyances. Also he had his 
 dreams, though his particular form of ambition soared 
 to the membership of the Mummers' Club, and Bridge 
 every afternoon. 
 
 He was rather a good-looking fellow in a bloated 
 sort of way, possessing some remnants of what is 
 known as the "actor's face"; but intemperate living 
 had destroyed its fine outlines, while the eyes which 
 had once rolled with effect across the footlights were 
 now heavy, suspiciously veined, and bulging. Never-
 
 BITTER ALOES 29 
 
 theless, he retained a superb vanity, and was quite 
 convinced that he had but to appear upon the stage 
 to paralyze the fair members of the audience. 
 
 Bitter Aloes found in him a source of infinite joy. 
 Being the antithesis of himself, he was just tolerable. 
 In certain moods Aloes almost liked the buffoon. 
 Upon occasion he led him on with wily innuendo to 
 talk. Then would the cynic curl himself up and fairly 
 quiver with delight. 
 
 "I like Navarre," he would say to the Major. 
 Henry Navarre was the gentleman's professional 
 name,' which he probably had a right to, as more 
 than once he had proudly declared that the blood of 
 all the Navarres coursed through his veins. "He is 
 so frankly a bounder as to be beyond the faintest sus- 
 picion of reproach. There is your pretentious hypo- 
 crite and your pretentious bounder, but of the two 
 give me the simple and unadulterated species. He has 
 no delusions about his histrionic abilities, nor about 
 the want of ability in the more distinguished members 
 of his profession. In that respect he approaches the 
 author nearer than any one of my acquaintance. Give 
 him their chances and he would act them all off the 
 globe which wouldn't be quite the stupendous feat 
 some people imagine. That is why I find much joy 
 in his unblushing pretentiousness. He is so palpably 
 sincere, so unaffectedly ignorant. Of course, he 
 hasn't brains enough to make a good railway porter, 
 though he has cunning enough not to work as one. 
 His sentiments please me : they are in such direct 
 contrast with the least elementary intelligence. Life 
 would be exceedingly dull for us, my dear Charles, if 
 the Great Creator were suddenly to lay aside his 
 pen."
 
 80 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 On the other hand the Actor Man had just as superb 
 a contempt for Aloes. 
 
 "He's one of those chaps," he said to the Major, 
 "who, a failure himself, cannot forgive success in 
 others. But how could he succeed with his limited 
 outlook on life, his mean abilities, his sad lack of the 
 imaginative quality. He wants facts, facts, facts, while 
 the world is yearning for romance. Of course, like so 
 many of the gross failures of life, he has entirely mis- 
 taken his vocation. The chap was cut out for a 
 navvy : he has the manners of a tram-conductor. But 
 I like old Aloes. He is so ineffably contemptible that 
 I should lose half my pleasure in life if he were to 
 go under." 
 
 Neither of them held the Major in any great esteem. 
 He was one of those harmless nonentities whom 
 people tolerate simply because they are harmless. 
 They accepted him and his estates in Ireland with a 
 secret and illuminating delight. It was his little 
 weakness. We all have some bee in our'bonnet : some 
 unproductive estate in Ireland. There was no harm in 
 the dear old chap. His vagaries would not have im- 
 posed upon the intellectual vacuity of a new-born 
 infant. 
 
 In all good faith the Major made his momentous 
 pronouncement on the possibilities of literature, and 
 of his peculiar adaptability to that onerous calling. 
 Bitter Aloes looked grave : the Actor Man smoked 
 with an easy nonchalance. It was inconceivable to 
 him that any apparently sane person should find a 
 subject outside the theatre worthy of a moment's 
 serious discussion. 
 
 "Let us discriminate," said Aloes. "You spoke of 
 literature. Do you mean writing?"
 
 BITTER ALOES 81 
 
 "The same thing," replied the Major airily. 
 
 "Oh, indeed," murmured the other. "Yet some 
 people profess to find a distinction." 
 
 "A distinction, perhaps, but no difference. What 
 is mere writing to-day becomes literature to-morrow." 
 
 "And if to-day's writing doesn't live till to- 
 morrow ? " 
 
 "Like yours in The Epoch," wickedly suggested 
 the Actor Man. 
 
 But him Aloes ignored. He could not discuss liter- 
 ature with a person who was so imperfectly acquainted 
 with his own language as not to be sure, judging 
 from occasional lapses, if the alphabet contained 
 twenty-five or twenty-six letters. 
 
 "Don't you see," continued the Major, "life is a 
 compound of incongruities, with here and there an 
 occasional truth dropped in by way of make-weight. 
 If life were wholly incongruous how many of us would 
 take the trouble to live it seriously ? No, believe me, 
 my boy, life, in spite of its many apparent absurdities, 
 is intensely real." 
 
 "Art is real," interposed Mr. Navarre, "that is, my 
 art is real. Life is but a pale reflex of art." 
 
 " Where did you get that ? " growled Aloes. 
 
 "I evolved it from my inner consciousness." 
 
 "From some comedy in which you carried on a 
 tray." 
 
 "I know some people who couldn't even carry on a 
 tray," was the retort. 
 
 "You were saying," inquired Aloes, turning to the 
 Major. The Actor Man chuckled. Upon occasion 
 he could rub it in with the best of them. 
 
 "These irrelevant interruptions destroy the con- 
 tinuity of my thought," the Major admitted. " I wish
 
 82 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 you chaps would confine your remarks to the subject 
 under discussion, and ignore extraneous matter." 
 
 "It's Navarre," said Aloes : "the fellow has no soul. 
 He's a property man of painted canvas." 
 
 "No soul!" exclaimed Navarre. "B'George, you 
 should see me play Romeo." 
 
 "What harm have I ever done you ? " asked Aloes. 
 
 "We were discussing literature," suggested the 
 Major mildly. 
 
 "Which has nothing to do with the stage," said 
 Aloes. 
 
 "Then what about Shakespeare! " cried the Actor 
 Man. "Isn't he literature?" 
 
 "You leave Shakespeare alone, old son, and stick 
 to Drury Lane drama." 
 
 "Shakespeare was an actor like me," insisted 
 Navarre. 
 
 "I'll take my oath he wasn't," said Aloes. "Pro- 
 ceed, Charles. We will ignore this irreverent 
 mummer." 
 
 "I wish you would ignore my whisky." 
 
 "It is not my nature to ignore the better part of 
 any man. If it were not for your whisky you would 
 be frankly impossible. Proceed, my dear Charles. I 
 am not entirely without hope that your elevating dis- 
 course may affect even the impenetrable cranium of 
 this apparently hopeless imbecile." 
 
 "Hopeless, indeed, or I wouldn't supply you with 
 free drinks." 
 
 "My dear fellow, you are perfectly convinced that 
 the greatest honour I can pay you is to drink at your 
 expense. In return you are privileged to hear me 
 talk. Being an artist you are not wholly devoid of a 
 sense of proportion. Make me drunk and I will even
 
 BITTER ALOES 33 
 
 come to see you play Romeo. Proceed, Major dear. 
 We will revel in the sunshine of your illuminating 
 remarks." 
 
 "I repeat," said the Major, "indeed, the conviction 
 has been forced upon me, that literature is my true 
 vocation. In the first place, my nationality is all in 
 favour of literature as a profession. I suppose you 
 know that all Irishmen are born wits and poets ? " 
 
 " I thought the Scots had robbed them of that privi- 
 lege. But no matter. By the way, you are an 
 Irishman ? " 
 
 "My connection with Ireland entitles me to that 
 distinction," replied the Major evasively. "But if I 
 wanted more conclusive proof my own initiative 
 supplies it. I have an idea. I will write a series of 
 articles on the Tubes and Sewers of London." 
 
 "Been done to death," said Aloes. "No editor 
 would look at 'em. Now, if you could only get into 
 the kitchen at Buckingham Palace and describe the 
 pots and pans that hold the royal messes you might 
 easily make a fortune. I give you the idea free, gratis, 
 and for nothing." 
 
 "That's good of you, Alfred," said the Major : "I'll 
 think about it." 
 
 "Though I've done it a dozen times myself, still, 
 it's a good idea, and can be worked, at lucid intervals, 
 at a profit. The people in the suburbs, the people 
 who go to the Lord Mayor's Show and the Opening 
 of Parliament, like to read about such things." 
 
 The Major looked perturbed. 
 
 "But, my dear Alfred, if you have done it so often, 
 shouldn't I be a bit what?" 
 
 "Not at all. My articles were all fakes. I've never 
 been in a royal kitchen in my life." 
 c
 
 84 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "It seems to me that the varied life of the Tubes 
 might be made intensely interesting." 
 
 "To whom? Why, the very editor who would 
 judge your article had probably come to his office by 
 Tube that morning, and that would make him hate it 
 with all the power of unreason. Ten to one his sub- 
 scribers had come to work in the same way, the Tube 
 smell still rank in their nostrils, and the very villainy 
 of it would awake in them inextinguishable malice. 
 But talk to them about a royal kitchen and they'll 
 swallow even the pots and pans, and lick their lips 
 over the imaginary repast." 
 
 "You are such a chap for exaggerating," protested 
 the Major. 
 
 Aloes blew a cloud from his pipe and with serious 
 eyes watched it disperse along the ceiling. Then 
 slowly those serious eyes came down to a level with 
 the Major's face. 
 
 "I see a few grey hairs above your ears," he said; 
 "your brow is widening suspiciously. Yet doth the 
 infant mind still lurk beneath that venerable exterior." 
 
 "Come, now, not so venerable," interrupted the 
 other. 
 
 "There be those who cannot see," continued the 
 Bitter One oracularly, "and those who will not. For 
 those who are by nature blind I have an infinite pity : 
 for those who are wilfully so an unutterable con- 
 tempt." 
 
 "Oh, I say," protested the soldier once again. 
 
 "Aloes thinks everybody an ass but himself," jeered 
 Navarre. "But let me tell you, my pippin, it's not so 
 much what we think of ourselves as what others think 
 of us that counts." 
 
 Having delivered this thrust in the manner of one
 
 BITTER ALOES 85 
 
 who has just proclaimed a great new truth, Mr. 
 Navarre smiled complacently, first at the Major 
 and then at the window on the other side of the 
 street. 
 
 "There's not much in that either," growled Aloes. 
 "What they think of you could be told in one word, 
 one little unflattering word. But if you will kindly 
 endeavour to keep that foolish tongue of yours still for 
 a moment you may hear something that will advan- 
 tage you. Taises-vous, mon enfant. This is not your 
 act. You are not on in this scene." 
 
 "You two chaps " began the Major. 
 
 "I like the fellow," said Aloes patronizingly; "his 
 painted sword is a superb contrast to the sinuous 
 flashings of my rapier. Let him alone. It is by such 
 antithesis we gauge perfection. Were it not for his 
 admirable whisky the man would be frankly intoler- 
 able." 
 
 The Actor Man laughed. 
 
 "I appeal to him in the most susceptible portion of 
 his gross anatomy," he said. "Hence the superiority 
 of art over all the other human emotions. You're all 
 right, Aloes. You're a savage, but I love you. Let us 
 continue our idiotic excursions into the regions of the 
 unobtainable." 
 
 "I don't want any quotes from the parts you never 
 played," mumbled the other. "Listen well, old son, 
 and you may learn something. When you become an 
 actor-manager I'll write your plays for you." 
 
 "I don't think," said Mr. Navarre. 
 
 "Touching literature," suggested the Major once 
 again, who foresaw an interminable cross-countering 
 of wits. 
 
 "Yes, touching literature," echoed Navarre, with a 
 c 2
 
 86 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 comical look at Sarning. "When is that great book 
 of yours coming out, Alfred?" 
 
 "To be sure," said the Major, turning upon Aloes 
 the look of an inquiring child. 
 
 "It's coming along," replied the other quietly, 
 though not without some touch of pride, for, God 
 help us, we all have our little weakness. "Still, I 
 doubt if it will ever see the light of day." 
 
 "But why, my dear fellow?" asked the Major. 
 " A clever chap like you ! " 
 
 "It's too clever," smiled Navarre; "it attacks too 
 many prejudices, treads on too many corns. Alfred 
 has dissected society from the scrofulous bald crown 
 of its head to the bare soles of its gouty feet. The 
 Philosophy of a Savage he calls it and most appro- 
 priately." Mr. Navarre laughed hugely at the jest. 
 "And thereby hangs a sea of trouble, as a certain 
 not-unknown actor put it." 
 
 "I'll swear he didn't," grunted Aloes. 
 
 "Alfred, who is so clever, is not clever enough 
 to know that society will only permit its favourites 
 to attack it. Philosophy, like medicine, must be 
 advertised well before you can get the public to 
 swallow large doses of it ; and who, pray, is going to 
 advertise Mr. Alfred Hallows ? " 
 
 "But there is no denying merit," insisted the 
 Major, still childlike in his faiths and fancies; "and 
 Alfred is clever." 
 
 "Oh, my dear lamb," said Navarre, elevating his 
 brows with true theatrical effect, "where is your 
 shepherd, where is the fold ? Get inside quickly. 
 The wolves are howling in the forest." 
 
 The Major looked a trifle bewildered. It was a 
 little curious that notwithstanding the vicissitudes of
 
 BITTER ALOES 37 
 
 an exceedingly varied career he should still, at in- 
 tervals, suggest the over-grown child. Aloes was 
 an uncompromising unbeliever, Navarre frankly 
 materialistic. The one professed to see an execrable 
 topsy-turvyness in life which, being impossible to 
 right, was only worthy of a sneer; the other had no 
 illusions about anything except himself and his 
 acting. Given a chance, he had not the slightest 
 doubt that he could act off the earth (to put it in his 
 own strenuous language), any other mummer in 
 Christendom, or any other "dom" either for the 
 matter of that. Fortunately for him he was never 
 likely to be subjected to the test. 
 
 "Touching literature," said Aloes, frowning 
 thoughtfully, and knocking the ashes from his pipe, 
 "my serious and well-seasoned advice is don't touch 
 it with anything less dainty than a barge pole. 
 Break it, don't let it break you. Personally I should 
 prefer to see any one I loved stricken with cholera, 
 typhoid, or the small-pox. Leave it to those who 
 believe in their mission to teach or to exalt. They 
 will experience a multitude of disappointments, to be 
 sure, but their unconquerable vanity will support 
 them to the bitter end and probably make them a 
 popular success." 
 
 "But merit tells," insisted the Major. 
 
 "In what way?" quoth the rugged one. 
 
 "If a chap gets the right side of the public," sug- 
 gested the soldier. 
 
 "Precisely. There's money in it. That's merit! " 
 
 "Of course," said the Major. 
 
 "Undoubtedly," echoed Navarre. "You can't 
 expect the public to pay for a rotten show. Why 
 they won't even go in on paper. If a piece draws
 
 88 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 the crowd it must be good. Tell me, why should 
 only one class of piece be good? You can't. It's 
 all very well for you to sneer, Alfred, but you take 
 my word for it the public won't pay to see a thing 
 that does not appeal to them, and if it appeals to 
 them it must have merit." 
 
 "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings," mur- 
 mured the oracle. "I dare say you are quite right, 
 my son. Pass along the whisky." 
 
 "You see," said the Major mildly, yet impressively, 
 "the merit lies in knowing what will appeal to the 
 public. With that knowledge at your command the 
 world is yours." 
 
 "I never had it," said Aloes, "worse luck." 
 
 "Because, my dear Alfred, if you will pardon my 
 saying so, you lack that infinite sweet patience with 
 ignorance which is the prime essential, the perfect 
 symbol of the superior mind. Admitted that in the 
 main the people are a seething mass of ignorance, 
 what does the really clever man do but play up to it, 
 or down to it, as the case may be? Even Christ 
 Himself has done nothing but cast a veneer of love 
 and charity across the western world. All other revo- 
 lutions are wrought by the sword. As in this 
 instance the sword is entirely out of the question, 
 what is there left us to do but play upon the ignorant 
 prejudices of the people ? " 
 
 "A frankly immoral proceeding." 
 
 "You give the people what they want," said Mr. 
 Navarre, "and hang the moral of it. Why only a 
 moment ago you were advocating a description of 
 the royal kitchens, if Charles wished to catch the ear 
 of an editor. Here is an example of the very thing." 
 He was idly glancing through the columns of an
 
 BITTER ALOES 39 
 
 avowed Radical paper, a paper which advertised 
 the petty doings of royalty and their infants with 
 infinitely more zest than the most Conservative of 
 sheets. "Listen to this." He read aloud 
 
 "Yesterday afternoon, while driving through 
 Battersea Park, her Royal Highness the Princess 
 Madeline was the heroine of a most unique and touch- 
 ing adventure. Seeing two ragged children attempt- 
 ing to solve the mysteries of Diabolo, her Royal 
 Highness commanded the coachman to stop, and for 
 quite a minute she was an interested spectator of their 
 vain endeavours to catch the flying spool. When at 
 length the carriage drove on her Royal Highness 
 graciously smiled upon the would-be experts, who, 
 sublimely unconscious of the identity of the illustrious 
 on-looker, continued their exertions with that 
 desperate tenacity of purpose which is so character- 
 istic of the true Briton. What better proof could 
 there be, if proof were needed, of the intense interest 
 taken by the Royal Family in everything that per- 
 tains to the welfare of the people ? " 
 
 Aloes snorted disdainfully : then a broad smile 
 spread slowly over his rugged face. 
 
 "That's the stuff," he cried admiringly. "Within 
 a week that paragraph will be printed in every news- 
 paper in the country. The chap who sent that in 
 knows his business. He ought to go far, for he has 
 grasped the sublimest sentiment of his race." 
 
 "What is that?" asked the Major, a curious little 
 quiver of excitement in his voice. 
 
 "Reverence for the social superior, which in our 
 people is so much of an obsession that the mere per- 
 formance of a perfectly natural action, by one in pos- 
 session of a title, is a source of wondering stupefaction.
 
 40 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 A hint for you, Navarre. Put a king in your first 
 play and make him say ' Damn my eyes,' and all 
 London will rush to experience the thrill." 
 
 "Envy, my dear Alfred: beware of envy." 
 
 "Rather cultivate it with the greatest assiduity. 
 Envy is one of the most ennobling qualities of the 
 human race, and has done more for the advancement 
 of mankind than all the sermons on humility that 
 were ever preached." 
 
 "Of course you really don't mean envy," protested 
 the Major. "You mean emulation." 
 
 "The world, my dear fellow, will split hairs ad 
 infinitum when it finds the process pleasing, but devil 
 a hair will it split unless it wishes to. Remember 
 there are also intellectual hewers of wood and drawers 
 of water, and England is full of them." 
 
 "England's all right," said the actor. "You should 
 go to the Lane and see how our battle scene in the 
 third act fetches 'em. It's a ripping piece of work. 
 I'm well down stage centre with the colonel." He 
 rose, pushed back the chair, took up his position, 
 and posed like a "leading man." "We're in a 
 desperate plight, of course. No water, no food, and 
 ammunition exhausted. The enemy is pressing us 
 on all sides. We refuse to surrender, but we can 
 die ! And so we group round the flag, clasp hands, 
 and sing, ' God save the King.' My boy, there's 
 not a dry eye in the house. It knocks 'em all of a 
 heap. I've got a ripping position in that scene. 
 Well down centre, y'know. The stage-manager 
 wanted to do me out of it, but as I've stood the author 
 a drink now and again he wouldn't hear of it. 
 ' Navarre looks jolly well in his uniform,' he said. 
 ' He's bound to fetch the women.' Of course the
 
 BITTER ALOES 41 
 
 stage-manager is a rotten little cad, the kind of worm 
 who crawls under the feet of the management. Used 
 to be call-boy at the Gaiety and run for the chorus 
 girls' beer when they weren't going off well. 
 Y'see, one has to think principally of the artistic 
 effect. We are all governed by our emotions." 
 
 " Where'd you get that ? " growled Aloes. 
 
 "Dramatic art being the supreme expression of 
 human emotion," continued Mr. Navarre, utterly 
 ignoring the interruption, "the most trifling detail 
 has been found worthy of attentive consideration. 
 The audience sees me down centre " 
 
 "Not forgetting the colonel," suggested Aloes. 
 
 "It notes my attitude, my quick change of expres- 
 sion from valiant resignation, when I think I am 
 about to die, to the sudden flash of hope that shoots 
 from my eyes at the sound of the distant bagpipes of 
 the relieving force." 
 
 "Why does the relieving force always play on the 
 bagpipes ? " inquired the cynic. 
 
 "Then 1 know that every eye is upon me 
 especially the eyes of the w r omen. B' George, I'll 
 tell you what it is, women are keen analysts. If I 
 made a false move then I should ruin the whole 
 picture." 
 
 " I must summon up sufficient courage to come and 
 see you," said Aloes, "though I fear that idiotic sing- 
 ing will give me nausea." 
 
 "Of course you must understand," the hero added 
 a little deprecatingly, "that I am not really a very 
 important personage in the play. In fact, I'm only 
 on in that one scene. But it's most important; and, 
 b'George, I have a fine position, well down centre. 
 There's no chance of my not being seen, and I can
 
 42 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 tell you what it is, I make the most of my oppor- 
 tunity." 
 
 "It must be fine to be well down centre." 
 
 "The star position, my son. The women get a 
 good look at you." 
 
 "Lucky women. What a devil of a fellow you 
 are." 
 
 " Well, my dear chap, what would you ! They 
 like us, y'know. I don't want to boast. But letters 
 and presents ! Well, there ! " 
 
 "Well, there," muttered Aloes as he slowly 
 mounted the stairs, the Major at his heels. " Is there 
 breathing such another creature ? " 
 
 "There's no real harm in him," said the warrior. 
 
 "But great potentialities. Deus meus! And I 
 drink his whisky ! " 
 
 "I will say that for you, Alfred. There are few 
 of us who know better than you how to be all things 
 to all men." 
 
 "The hard lesson of the world, my son. Yet I 
 like the creature. Life would be perfectly intoler- 
 able without its Navarres." 
 
 By this time they had puffed their way to the land- 
 ing, and as Aloes was turning to his room the Major 
 laid a finger lightly on his arm. 
 
 "Touching literature," he began in a rather nervous 
 tone. 
 
 Aloes swung slowly round and confronted him. 
 
 "Well, touching literature. You've heard my 
 opinion of it. Better touch boots, or pickles, or dairy 
 farming. Better touch anything that is profitable, if 
 vulgar, than sell your soul to an ink-pot or a dream. 
 Many are called but few are chosen. The villainy 
 of it, that it should be implanted, like original sin,
 
 BITTER ALOES 48 
 
 and that of all vital and cruel afflictions it is the one 
 that meets with the least sympathy." 
 
 "You, of course, refer to literature in its higher 
 flights. But there is a kind of writing that pays, 
 isn't there? ephemeral stuff for the newspapers. 
 What did you really think of that paragraph about 
 the Princess Madeline ? " 
 
 "Marketable, thoroughly British, and evidently the 
 kind of pap peculiarly suitable to the community. 
 The chap who sent it in was no fool." 
 
 "I was that chap." 
 
 "You! Did you write it?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The warrior grew hot with confusion. Aloes re- 
 garded him with a look of ardent admiration. 
 
 "Congratulations, my son. There is hope for you. 
 You go about with your eyes open. Rather lucky 
 though to have dropped upon so charming an 
 incident." 
 
 "But I didn't drop upon it." The culprit's face 
 grew more inflamed each moment. 
 
 "Explain, my son." 
 
 "It was a fake." 
 
 Aloes grasped him by the hand and shook it 
 warmly. 
 
 "Go on, O worthy one," he cried admiringly. 
 "You will make your mark in journalism."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 WOMAN 
 
 "NEVER jest with a woman unless you are sure that 
 the joke is so obvious as to be incapable of misappre- 
 hension," was one of the inspired axioms of that great 
 work, The Philosophy of a Savage. "A woman," it 
 continued in the grand oracular manner assumed by 
 those in possession of an imaginary mandate to in- 
 struct, "is chiefly emotional, peculiarly sensitive to a 
 touch of the human, yet seeing most things through 
 a vista of mist-like dreamings. That is most things 
 which pertain to the senses. In church the music 
 thrills her : she pays undue attention to the vest- 
 ments of the priest. If he has a beautiful voice it 
 appeals more powerfully to her than if within the 
 little compass of his cranium he held the concentrated 
 wisdom of the Twelve Wise Men. In the theatre it 
 is the same : she will weep or laugh at random, just 
 as the chords of her senses are touched. In life she 
 plays indiscriminately with a doll or with a man." 
 
 Mr. Hallows laid down the page of manuscript and 
 looked round as though anticipating enthusiastic ap- 
 proval of these sentiments. Reflectively the Major 
 stroked his moustache. 
 
 "True, woman is all that, my dear Alfred, but is 
 she not something more? Is she not a compound of 
 the practical and the visionary, of dreams and 
 
 44
 
 WOMAN 45 
 
 realities? And, for man at least, is she not some- 
 thing beyond all these ? " 
 
 "The sentimental interest that attaches to woman 
 is fast dying out," replied the philosopher. "That 
 which I have just read to you is merely the opening 
 paragraph of a chapter which I have devoted to a 
 keen analysis of woman. Every chord of her so- 
 called complex personality I have touched upon. As 
 a matter of fact there is nothing complex in her. All 
 the gracious, elusive and divine attributes with which 
 she is supposed to be endowed have been bestowed 
 upon her by the fopperies and vanities of man. It 
 is man who is for ever seeking the unobtainable ideal, 
 man who, continuously groping through the labyrinth 
 of life, has never yet succeeded in rinding the thread 
 which shall lead him to the upper light." 
 
 " Does man never find his ideal ? " 
 
 "Various men find various ideals, but are they 
 those which they originally set out to discover? 
 Some find it in religion, some in the achievement of 
 worldly ambition, some in a woman. But these latter 
 are chiefly young men. Did you ever hear of a man 
 of mature experience finding his ideal in a woman ? 
 Ask your Romeo of fifty what he thinks of his Juliet 
 of forty-five. I'll wager that long before the Trojan 
 war was finished Paris was sick to death of Helen. 
 And with good cause." 
 
 "Mocker of the immortal," groaned the soldier. 
 
 "Not so; but is it not time that we began to see 
 things as they are ? For thousands of years now we 
 have played this game of make-believe upon our- 
 selves. Are we to go on to the end dreaming our 
 futile dreams ? " 
 
 "If they were not of some use to man would he
 
 46 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 continue to dream them? This that you scoff at as 
 mere visionary may have a great truth in it some- 
 where." 
 
 "The greatest truth it contains is the truth of sex. 
 Even Cynthia comes down from heaven to the shep- 
 herd's arms. Grant me sex and I grant you all the 
 rest. You have never been married, my dear 
 fellow ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " But you have had a love affair ? " 
 
 The Major flushed ever so slightly. 
 
 "Most of us have," he answered. 
 
 "But most of us have not been so fortunate as to 
 escape." 
 
 "The fortune was hers," replied the other quietly. 
 
 "I'm not so sure of that." 
 
 "Thanks. But you see, I like women." 
 
 Aloes began to laugh, but something in the other's 
 glance checked him. Mirth-provoking as the an- 
 nouncement may have been, there was yet such an 
 air of childish sincerity in Major Sarning's manner, 
 such an exquisite naiVete", that Aloes was pulled up with 
 a jerk. Here was a suggestion of depth beyond that 
 which he had plumbed. For that which floated on 
 the surface of this man was not all of him : no, not 
 even the lesser part. The gaze of the Bitter One 
 grew deeper, more concentrated. Recollection seemed 
 to flash from the inner soul of him with a quick, 
 sweet pain. He, too, had his memories hidden away 
 in odd corners, dusty and cobwebbed perhaps : per- 
 haps also exhaling a sweet, dead scent of lavender. 
 
 "We all like them," admitted the philosopher, "or 
 have liked them at some far-off period of our exist- 
 ence. I propose fully to analyze the various stages
 
 WOMAN 47 
 
 of woman-worship through which a man passes. No, 
 I will at present refrain from reading my dissertation 
 on what is commonly called 'calf love,' though I 
 have much to say on that subject. Also I do not 
 mince matters when I touch on the iniquitous passions 
 of senile decay. This book of mine, you must under- 
 stand, will be like no book that was ever written. It 
 will be no respecter of persons or things : it will 
 spare neither high nor low. Suburbia will dub it 
 1 bad form.' Yet I do not tremble. It will expose 
 all shams and hypocrisies, and scarify all hypocrites. 
 I shall not be guided by rule or rote. I shall tell of 
 things as they appear to me, and if I rub a few sores 
 or tread on a few corns so much the better. It will 
 do the world good to have its corns trodden upon." 
 
 "It will resent the action." 
 
 "It is that fear of resentment which perpetuates our 
 whole iniquitous social system." 
 
 "But what about woman?" suggested the Major 
 mildly. He had a wholesome dread of Mr. Hallows 
 when he saw him get astride his h'obby-horse. 
 
 "Well, what of woman?" thundered the philo- 
 sopher. 
 
 "Woman's all right," answered a cheery voice, and 
 Mr. Navarre appeared, debonair and smiling, in the 
 doorway. "You don't tell me, my dear fellow, that 
 this savage is actually attacking woman now ? " 
 
 "Alfred has queer ideas," replied the Major. 
 
 "Alfred is an uncouth mass of vanity, impertinence 
 and ignorant swank. I'll lay ten to one he hasn't 
 kissed a girl for years if he ever kissed one. Come 
 now, savage, confess : do you know what it is to 
 feel a girl's soft arms round your neck, her soft cheek 
 close to yours, her eyes so near your own that they
 
 48 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 burn the very soul out of you? Her lips But 
 what do you know of such things ! These are rap- 
 tures reserved exclusively for the elect." 
 
 Mr. Navarre struck a graceful attitude before the 
 fire-place. Skilfully, yet with an easy air of negli- 
 gence, he crossed one leg over the other, balancing 
 the pointed toe of his boot on the hearthrug. With 
 the charming elegance of the true artist he lounged 
 against the mantelpiece, and with the fingers of his 
 right hand caressed his somewhat abundant locks. 
 
 "This way with the limelight," said Aloes. 
 
 The Actor Man giggled. 
 
 "I believe that a pretended contempt of those 
 niceties of conduct which are beyond us is sometimes 
 noticed by the observant." 
 
 "Where did you get that?" asked Aloes. 
 
 "No matter. It is true." 
 
 "About woman," suggested Sarning. 
 
 "There," said Mr. Navarre, with a look suggestive 
 of much knowledge, and not a little cunning, "you 
 touch a subject of which I flatter myself . I am au 
 courang, as we say in French." Aloes grunted dis- 
 dain. "The actor, whatever you may think of him, 
 my dear Alfred, is a persona grata with the fair sex." 
 
 Aloes laughed hilariously. 
 
 "More French?" he said. 
 
 "My dear Alfred, I beg of you not to interrupt 
 with your puerile attempts at wit. The dray horse 
 doesn't look well in the light gig. Because you are 
 so unfortunate as not to appeal to the delicate taste 
 of the fair triflers, you must not show your envy by 
 attempting to depreciate the efforts of the more suc- 
 cessful. Woman being a creature of delicate, though 
 complex, sensibilities, it necessarily follows that only 
 an artist of equally delicate and complex sensibility
 
 WOMAN 49 
 
 can charm or understand her. Now we of the theatre 
 know this to be one of the first essentials to success. 
 With woman on our side we are everything : without 
 her, nothing. You smile, my dear fellow, but if you 
 will stay to think of it you will realize that I am speaking 
 gospel truth. That which does not appeal to woman 
 has little chance of catching on in this world. If you 
 write a novel and women refuse to read it, that book 
 is still-born. In painting, poetry, music, the theatre, 
 in all the nobler and more elevating arts, it is the 
 same. Who fills churches, theatres, concert halls, 
 picture galleries ? Woman toujours la femme ! Who 
 rounds and completes the life of man? in fact, who 
 gives even life itself to man ? Toujours la femme! " 
 
 "Tell us something new," grunted the cynic, "or 
 at least something that is not worn threadbare by 
 repetition." 
 
 "My dear Alfred, that would be more than you 
 could do if you wrote from now till doomsday." 
 
 "Woman is always new to some one," said the 
 Major ; " hence the infinite charm of her. I like her." 
 
 "So do I ! " cried Navarre. "There are some pretty 
 sluts among them, to be sure, but generally speaking 
 I have found them more or less satisfactory." Aloes 
 sat watching him with a curiously inscrutable smile. 
 "Of course there's no denying they do get a bit tire- 
 some at times, and are devilish difficult to shake off 
 when a chap gets fed up with them. They never 
 will realize that a chap can get fed up with them : 
 that being by nature a hunter he must sometimes go 
 a hunting for the good of his soul. I remember one 
 girl a sweet little thing. Charming and affectionate, 
 but utterly inane. No brains at all. Used to bore me 
 stiff. One may trifle with a doll, but one cannot 
 seriously contemplate a permanent alliance with
 
 50 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 idiocy. In a way I was sorry for the poor little 
 creature. She was wickedly fond of me, and might 
 have done well enough for a counterjumper or a 
 stockbroker's clerk; but for a man with artistic 
 ideals " 
 
 He ended abruptly, but the eloquent shrugging of 
 the shoulders was most impressive. Aloes snuggled 
 still deeper into his chair and seemed inwardly to 
 ripple with delight. Sarning glared solemnly at the 
 speaker, a sort of wide wonder in his big childish eyes. 
 
 "B'George!" continued the Actor Man, pausing 
 artistically for the "laugh," or the "round," and after 
 a prolonged and evidently satisfactory study of him- 
 self in the mirror over the mantel, "I could tell you 
 some odd yarns of the vagaries of the sex, and though 
 of course I wouldn't dream of giving a woman away, 
 still we artists do have a unique experience of them. 
 In some unaccountable fashion they seem indissolubly 
 bound up with our lives. I suppose that, being at 
 heart an artist, like naturally turns to like." 
 
 "No doubt that accounts for your extraordinary 
 success ? " suggested Aloes. 
 
 "Perhaps there is a charm about the actor," he 
 modestly admitted. "My dear fellow, if I were to 
 tell you of a tenth part of the affaires de core that 
 come my way you would probably call me a liar. I 
 won't say it's creditable to woman as a matter of 
 fact I don't think it is; but it is so easy to find pardon 
 for a fault committed for our sake." 
 
 "Yes," assented the Major, nodding his head 
 sagaciously, "I think we should always be kind to 
 women." 
 
 "Oh, I'm always that," said Navarre. "I never 
 forget to treat a woman with the most delicate con- 
 sideration. Her chief fault is that she cannot, or will
 
 WOMAN 51 
 
 not, realize that there are others equally charming, 
 and that by the adoration of the many a man is pay- 
 ing her sex the most sincere of compliments." 
 
 " Gaudeamus," gurgled the cynic, a happy light in 
 his eyes. 
 
 "You are like the bee," said the Major seriously, 
 "you flit from flower to flower." 
 
 Again that eloquent shrug and tossing of the thick 
 locks. 
 
 "My dear fellow, you don't know what it is to be a 
 popular actor." 
 
 "No," said the Major. 
 
 "Do you?" asked Aloes. 
 
 "The women simply won't leave you alone. When 
 they are not writing for autographs or interviews they 
 are inundating you with presents." 
 
 "Very curious," murmured the soldier. "Still, I 
 am not sure that the inconsistency of woman is not 
 one of her greatest charms." 
 
 "The trouble is that I have found her too consist- 
 ent. The presents never cease. Only the other night an 
 anonymous admirer sent round a gold cigarette-case." 
 
 "To you?" asked Aloes. 
 
 "Of course. Who else? A quaint design, too," 
 murmured Navarre, as though speaking to himself. 
 "A ruby heart in the middle, with my initials on the 
 top in diamonds, and hers at the bottom." 
 
 "Some duchess at least," said Aloes. "Got it on 
 you ? " 
 
 "My dear fellow, I couldn't carry about a thing 
 like that. It might give the poor devil away." 
 
 "I think you are quite right," said Major Sarning. 
 " A woman who could make presents of gold cigarette- 
 cases mounted in rubies and diamonds must have a 
 husband to provide her with the money."
 
 52 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 " Naturally ; and it would be devilish awkward if I 
 was to offer him a cigarette from the case, and he 
 was to recognize her initials. Just think of it, my 
 dear fellow ! B'George ! it might lead to a scandal, 
 and damages." 
 
 "Against whom?" asked Aloes. 
 
 "No, no, I'm not that kind of chap at all," insisted 
 Mr. Navarre. "Any little adventure de core that 
 might come my way is conducted with the utmost 
 decorum." He waited for the "laugh," but it did not 
 come. Still, he was not responsible for their lack of 
 intelligence. " But, thank God, no woman can accuse 
 me of ever having betrayed a confidence," he added 
 in his best histrionic manner. 
 
 "That is to your credit," said the Major solemnly, 
 while Aloes, wriggling in his seat, curled and un- 
 curled his legs with very ecstasy. " I consider a 
 woman's confidence to be little short of a sacred trust, 
 and I should thoroughly despise the man who 
 betrayed it." 
 
 "'When lovely woman stoops to folly,'" mur- 
 mured the cynic. 
 
 Mr. Navarre lit a cigarette and struck an attitude 
 which he seemed to imagine was one of extreme non- 
 chalance. When it came to a knowledge of women, 
 b'George ! there was little he did not know of the 
 matter. Also, by this same attitude, he wished to 
 convey a sort of respectful contempt of the knowledge 
 of the other two. Sarning was plainly a blundering 
 nonentity, who lived as children, idiots and drunkards 
 live, protected by some whimsical providence which 
 seemed to take a delight in taunting wise men. Aloes, 
 it is true, might possess a certain savage, perverted 
 view of life ; but what could he know of woman ? 
 
 "It seems to me," said Major Sarning, who had
 
 WOMAN 53 
 
 filled and lit a pipe, and who was now thoughtfully 
 drawing at it, "that you fellows overlook one of the 
 chief essentials; that is, the influence of woman in 
 the home. Is life tolerable, can life be tolerable, with- 
 out her ? Can there even be such a thing as home 
 without her? Why, surely of all that governs a 
 man's life, and fills it with light and gladness, woman 
 is first and the rest nowhere. I don't mean your 
 kind of woman, Navarre; the light of love you pick 
 up at the theatre or in the street, the intoxication of 
 a moment or a night. I mean the real true woman, 
 God bless her, clean of body and of soul, the mother 
 of your children, the helpmate, the comforter; whose 
 soft, cool hands are like balm to your burning fore- 
 head, whose eyes swim in the light of the tender 
 mother-love for you, her child and husband. To see 
 her about the house, to catch the swish of her skirt as 
 she moves across the floor, to hear her singing softly 
 to herself in the distance. . . ." 
 
 He looked up dreamily through the smoke, a strange 
 speculation in his eyes. Almost it seemed as though 
 he listened to that sweet singing of which he spoke. 
 
 "That's all very well in books," said Navarre, a 
 little irritably; "but, dear boy, it's not a bit like the 
 real thing." 
 
 Aloes said nothing, but he was looking at Sarning 
 with a new light in his deep-set eyes. 
 
 "I'm not so sure that it's not the real thing," re- 
 plied the Major impressively, "and that without it no 
 man can be said to complete his destiny. Life can 
 only be full when a woman comes into it : without 
 her man is as one who wanders solitary in the wilder- 
 ness. I don't deny your knowledge, Henry, nor 
 yours either, my dear Alfred, but have you fellows 
 ever known what it is to lose a dear one ? Have you
 
 54 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 ever known what it is to come back to the cold, empty 
 house, to look for the face you love, but which is 
 gone from you for ever; to listen for the voice which 
 you shall never hear again ? Outside the lights may 
 glow in the street, but you are very dark within; 
 laughter may ring out from the passer-by, but it is 
 not for you ; the patter comes and goes of hurrying 
 feet on the pavement, but it never stops at your door. 
 Sometimes you start and listen. Is that her voice 
 calling to you through the gloom ? Is that her step 
 on the stair? Listen. Is it because you fancy you 
 heard the swish of her skirts that you turn so suddenly 
 and hold out your arms with a low, piteous whisper ? 
 It was only the wind, you say, the rustle of a curtain, 
 one of the multitudinous strange whisperings of the 
 night. Perhaps your dog comes and pushes his silken 
 head into your hands of all living things on earth 
 the only one that is sorry for you. No wife, no child, 
 no lover nothing but immeasurable gloom and in- 
 finite loneliness. And only the dog knows, and only 
 the dog cares." 
 
 For a few moments there was silence; then Henry 
 spoke. 
 
 "You paint an awful picture," he said, shuddering 
 slightly. In spite of himself he had to confess that 
 the Major's recital had not a little of the dramatic in 
 it. In fact, he already saw himself delivering some 
 such impressive lines. He fancied that they would 
 carry well across the footlights. 
 
 "I did not know," said Aloes in a whisper. 
 
 "Know what?" asked Navarre sharply. 
 
 The Major merely nodded.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A DERELICT 
 
 THE addition to their household, and incidentally 
 the expense of it, came about in the most preposterous 
 manner. At least so Aloes thought, and Mrs. Nuttall 
 agreed with him. What Nuttall said may be taken 
 as a pale reflex of his wife's opinions. Nuttall, being 
 the best of husbands (when he was not in liquor), 
 realized as few men seem to realize the unity of mar- 
 riage. Except on that vital question of liquor afore- 
 said, husband and wife were really and truly one 
 within the meaning of the matrimonial act except, 
 perhaps, for one or two other trifles. 
 
 As for Major Sarning he scarcely realized what he 
 had done until he did it. That was a little peculiarity 
 of his. Of course Ma Nuttall pooh-poohed his good 
 intentions, declaring with some volubility that she 
 would not have the creature in her house. The Actor 
 Man winked comprehensively. There could be no hope 
 of stealing a march on him. He had been there before, 
 as he mysteriously hinted. But with a significant 
 glance Aloes warned him to be careful. 
 
 "I understand," said he, "There is that about our 
 friend Charles which is quite incomprehensible to 
 you." 
 
 "Oh, is there?" laughed the other. 
 
 "No matter, my dear fellow. Let it go at that. 
 He's not like you, or me, or any one else on earth." 
 
 55
 
 56 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 " I'm not so certain of that either," grinned Navarre. 
 "Fellows who are like no one else on earth usually 
 end by being extremely earthy." 
 
 And it all came about because Charles Sarning, in 
 the fulness of his heart and the emptiness of his 
 pocket, thought fit to help a poor creature in distress. 
 
 At the best of times Victoria Street, Westminster, is 
 not the most cheerful or inviting of London's 
 thoroughfares. At midnight in gloomy winter it is 
 like a passage that leads to the abodes of desolation. 
 But Major Sarning had long been accustomed to 
 desolation and its ways. It had not for him even that 
 charm of novelty which might impress the uninitiated. 
 Indeed, it might be doubted if he even noticed how 
 painfully gloomy were his surroundings, for in a sense 
 he had moved in gloom all through that black bitter 
 day. And though he now trudged solemnly home- 
 ward it was with no glow of anticipation, for that to 
 which he was going was only a degree or so more 
 cheerful than that which he was leaving. But as he 
 passed beneath the lamplight he saw, huddled against 
 the post, the form of a woman. Also he caught a 
 quick glimpse of a small white face. 
 
 It was a common enough sight, one which draws 
 from the passer-by nothing more than a cursory 
 glance. The Major trudged on. But suddenly, as it 
 were, that small white face rose out of the pavement 
 and confronted him with wild accusing eyes. As a 
 matter of fact it had never left him, though only now 
 did he seem to realize its insistence. He stopped, 
 stood indecisively for a moment or two, then turned 
 and slowly retraced his steps. The small white face 
 looked up at him with eyes that gleamed strangely in 
 the flickering light.
 
 A DERELICT 57 
 
 "Pardon me," he said, gallantly raising his hat. 
 
 "Well ! " exclaimed the girl defiantly, bitterly, sug- 
 gestive of a manner which while not wishing to offend 
 seemed careless as to whether it did or not. 
 
 " First," continued the Major, " I must apologize for 
 accosting you in this manner." 
 
 "Don't mention it." 
 
 The girl emitted a low contemptuous laugh, but 
 whether against herself or him it would be hard to 
 say, and of a truth he did not appear to notice it. 
 
 "But it seemed to me," he went on earnestly, and 
 in a manner so sincere that her great eyes opened to 
 their fullest extent, "that there was something different 
 in your case from the er er generality of such 
 cases," he stammered lamely. 
 
 "Why should there be? or why shouldn't there 
 be ? " she snapped, for already she saw that the gaunt 
 man was shabby, and gaunt shabby men were at that 
 moment of no particular interest. 
 
 "Is there not always something different, though 
 the cases may appear to be similar?" he suggested 
 mildly. 
 
 "I dunno. What you mean?" she added quickly. 
 Her tone, sharp and suspicious, passed unheeded by 
 the questioner. 
 
 "No offence," he said. "But isn't it getting rather 
 late ? " Again she laughed that short contemptuous 
 laugh which was so full of meaning. "A bitter 
 night," he added. 
 
 Indeed, just then the wind came biting along the 
 gloomy street like a mad dog snapping at space. 
 There was both wonder and disdain in her eyes as she 
 turned them up to his : some pain also. Was this gaunt 
 creature a fool, or merely a pretentious humbug ?
 
 58 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Where do you live?" he asked. A strange smile 
 curled her lips into something like a sneer. "You 
 ought to be getting along. It's not a night for a dog 
 to be out in the streets." 
 
 "Only fit for a woman." 
 
 "God bless me, no ! " 
 
 He had an infinitely tender regard for women. 
 None was beneath his charity. 
 
 "Wish I could help you," he exclaimed spontane- 
 ously. 
 
 "Can't you?" 
 
 "No." " 
 
 "Then you're no good to me?" 
 
 "None whatever. I'm no good to any one not 
 even to myself." 
 
 There was a ring of such undoubted sincerity in his 
 tone that again her quick glance sought his face. 
 
 " Down on your luck, old boy ? " 
 
 "Always." 
 
 "Two of a tribe." 
 
 "Of that great tribe which wanders up and down 
 the face of this interminable wilderness of London 
 seeking for the wherewithal to sustain a worthless 
 life." 
 
 "Quite worthless," she agreed. "Thank Gawd I've 
 come to the end of it." 
 
 "Why," said he, peering closer, and seeing her 
 youth, "you are only beginning." 
 
 "At the wrong end," she answered bitterly. But 
 she did not venture a further explanation. Perhaps 
 he understood. 
 
 A heavy policeman slouched out of the gloom roll- 
 ing his weary beat. Slowly he passed eyeing them 
 suspiciously.
 
 A DERELICT 59 
 
 "Let us walk on," said Sarning. "Though a 
 strenuous advocate of the law, there are moments 
 when it seems to be unduly obtrusive. Judging from 
 the girth of that ponderous fellow I should say that 
 he was fairly comfortable inside." 
 
 Judging from his own feelings he knew that he was 
 far from comfortable : judging the slight slim figure 
 beside him he also forgot his own ailments. 
 
 Together they walked the length of Victoria Street, 
 and at last turned into that thrice gloomy and desolate 
 stretch of thoroughfare known as the Vauxhall Bridge 
 Road. The girl stopped suddenly, her slim shoulders 
 contracting with a shudder. 
 
 "Good-night," she said abruptly. 
 
 "Where are you going?" he asked. 
 
 "To the devil." 
 
 "Better go home and think it over." 
 
 She stopped, and again her hungry eyes sought his. 
 
 "Are you going home?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 He called it home, though quite conscious that the 
 name was a malicious cynicism. 
 
 "You're lucky. Good-night." 
 
 "One moment. Where do you live? " 
 
 "Nowhere." 
 
 "But where are you going to sleep to-night?" 
 
 "On a doorstep or in the river. It will be softer 
 there." 
 
 Charles Sarning shuddered, but this time it was not 
 with the cold. He drew her beneath the pale gleam of 
 the electric light and gazed earnestly into her face. 
 
 "Why," he muttered, "even I have a shelter of 
 sorts. It's true I owe more or less for it, but it's 
 there."
 
 60 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "How the blazes does that 'elp me?" she asked 
 angrily. 
 
 Of a truth he did not know. And as for helping 
 others : so far he had failed to help himself. Never- 
 theless he was cursed with an incorrigible altruism of 
 which he seemed to be totally unaware. 
 
 "But you don't mean to tell me " he began. 
 
 "I didn't mean to tell you anything: I don't know 
 why I have. Good-night." 
 
 "One moment," he cried quickly. "It can't be like 
 this, you know. Have you told me the truth? Of 
 course you have. I beg your pardon. How old are 
 you ? " 
 
 "So that's your game ! " 
 
 "I don't understand." 
 
 "Then what's my age to do with it? I'm old 
 enough to wish that I had never been born to wish 
 that my first breath had choked me. That's youth 
 my youth ! Damn fine thing, ain't it ? " 
 
 Again that low, bitter laugh. 
 
 "Youth," sighed the Major, "youth glorious and 
 immortal ! And we can do no more with it than this." 
 
 "That's no reason why you should rub it in," said 
 the girl. "I ain't asking you for anything. I can go 
 my own way." 
 
 "To the river?" 
 
 "Well, it asks no questions an' that's more than 
 can be said for some people." 
 
 "You must pardon me if I seem impertinent or 
 inquisitive. It is not my wish to be either. But, you 
 know, this sort of thing can't be." 
 
 "What you mean can't be?" 
 
 "Oh, but it's too horrible ! Are you hungry ? " 
 
 "A bit," she admitted after a pause.
 
 A DERELICT 61 
 
 "I've known what it is to be more than a bit. Of 
 course, that sort of thing is nothing much for a man. 
 But a woman ! Good heavens ! Are there many 
 hungry women in the streets ? " 
 
 "It's full of 'em." 
 
 " Poor little girl ! " 
 
 "What you mean," she cried sharply, suspiciously. 
 "You're not coming that touch, are you?" 
 
 "What touch ? " he asked blankly. 
 
 "The Gawd-forsaken sanctimonious lay. 'Cos if 
 you are you've come to the wrong shop." 
 
 But he did not seem to note her fierce tone of sus- 
 picion the withering scorn, the infinite disdain. His 
 mind was generously wandering in search of relief, 
 while his eyes were gazing blankly through her into 
 the darkness beyond. 
 
 "Will you come with me?" he asked suddenly. 
 
 "Oh, my Gawd ! " she said, and began to laugh in 
 a manner which puzzled him. 
 
 "It's not much I can offer you," he continued apolo- 
 getically, "but I dare say I shall be able to find you 
 a bit of something to eat. In the morning things may 
 brighten up. I have invariably found that after a 
 good night's rest things never look so black. It is one 
 of nature's compensations to poor humanity." 
 
 Again she grew suspicious. 
 
 "What's the meaning of all this rotten palaver?" 
 
 "Every little helps us to prolong the struggle," he 
 explained. 
 
 " Who wants ter ? " 
 
 "Still, while we are permitted to fight we sometimes 
 snatch an unexpected victory. It is true no one 
 cares if we go under, we poor lonely ones; but as 
 we know this the knowledge has its uses. It gives us
 
 62 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 courage in despair, strengthens our determination, 
 teaches us to keep a stiff upper lip. Candidly our 
 chances are small : some one is always there before us 
 filling the good sweet places of life. But, you know, 
 luck has a way of turning, especially if we try to 
 deserve it. I confess that she hasn't turned my way 
 yet, but she may. I may be mistaken, but I rather 
 think she likes people who put up a fight. The world 
 jeers, of course, that is, when it takes the trouble to 
 look on. In our case it doesn't even condescend to 
 look on. But what does that matter ? Alfred calls the 
 world a jade. You don't know Alfred? A good chap 
 in spite of his little idiosyncrasies. I'll introduce you. 
 Dear old boy, he takes a most perverted view of life, 
 and sneers at most things. But I don't believe that 
 even a jade is as bad as people pretend. I often 
 wonder how many of us have made the most of our 
 chances ? " 
 
 The girl listened in amazement. Half of what he 
 said went in at one ear and out at the other : yet the 
 other half lingered pleasantly in a mysterious, strange 
 manner. Never had she encountered such an extra- 
 ordinary person, and doubts of his perfect sanity 
 flitted through her mind. That he was talking a lot 
 of arrant nonsense she more than vaguely realized; 
 yet it was folly so sincere as to leave no sense of 
 irritation. Moreover, this amazing person was speak- 
 ing in apparent good faith. Fool he may have been, 
 but he was not conscious of it. Simple? Perhaps. 
 Good ? This kind of goodness was a stranger to her, 
 and she did not profess to understand it. Nevertheless 
 there was that about the man which insensibly soft- 
 ened the hardness round her heart. There was an 
 appealing look in her great eyes as she turned them
 
 A DERELICT 63 
 
 up to him, the look of a child who desires to ask a 
 host of questions, but who does not know how to 
 formulate the least of them. 
 
 "Like Alfred, I ought to be at war with the world," 
 he said reflectively; "yet it has so much to do, its own 
 way to go, its own battle to win. The passer-by may 
 not really be so callous as we imagine, only he does 
 not know, and in ninety-nine cases in a hundred he 
 has his own forage to find. Ancl it's no easy task to 
 find forage in a country that has been stripped bare 
 by the enemy. Certain it is that we should not lay 
 too much stress on this matter of the world. Our view 
 of it is deepened or heightened by circumstance. And 
 one poor devil may help another in a poverty-stricken 
 sort of way. In a fashion there is compensation also 
 in that. Our wants are not all the same, thank God. 
 I am not saying all is for the best. That is the kind 
 of cant that sickens me as much as it does Alfred. All 
 cannot be for the best while you are hungry." 
 
 "All is for the worst," said the girl. " Don't talk to 
 me of justice, watching the sparrows fall, and all that 
 sort of rubbish. I've 'card it so orfen that I'm fair 
 sick of it, an' of the blasted hypocrites who wag their 
 chins with the screaming lie. Some were born to liye 
 in palaces, by the grace of fools : some in the gutter. 
 It's damn fine for them in the palaces, but it's damn 
 rough on us." 
 
 "And who dooms us?" he asked. 
 
 "Gawd, I suppose," she sneered. 
 
 "I wonder," he murmured gently, "if we ourselves 
 have not something to do with it ? " 
 
 "I've 'eard all that before, too," she said; "but it's 
 a rotten argument." 
 
 "We can't all live in palaces," he insisted.
 
 64 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "That's rottener still." 
 
 "Probably. Certainly there's a good deal in life 
 that puzzles me not a little." 
 
 "It doesn't puzzle me not at all. It just means that 
 the few have got what the many want." 
 
 There was no denying that, and little use in trying 
 to explain it. Alfred would have said the same. 
 
 "Let us get along," he said. "This wind is bitterly 
 cold, and I very foolishly came out without my over- 
 coat." 
 
 He slipped his arm through hers and led her 
 onward. At first she felt like resenting the familiarity. 
 Next she was cruelly conscious of having no right to 
 resent it; and then she knew that there was not the 
 least suspicion of familiarity in his touch. It was an 
 action seemingly in keeping with the rest of his 
 strange behaviour. Was this gaunt creature a subtle 
 hypocrite or an amiable lunatic? And whither was 
 he leading her, and to what? Yet what did it 
 matter? The night was bitterly cold, and she was 
 cruelly hungry. 
 
 With the care of a father guiding a well-beloved 
 daughter he conducted her across the road. Then, 
 when they were safe on the opposite pavement, he let 
 go her arm. 
 
 "The streets are becoming intolerable," he said. 
 "What with motor-cars, motor-buses, and the fearful 
 swirl of traffic, it is like risking life and limb every 
 time one ventures to cross a road. Even I am getting 
 fearful." 
 
 Strange thoughts were ramping through her mind. 
 Was the man really playing a part ? And yet through 
 it all she was conscious of a brave attempt to make 
 her feel at ease, to let her forget, to wipe out whatever 
 stain was shortening the vista of hope. So gentle was
 
 A DERELICT 65 
 
 his manner that at first she was frankly suspicious 
 of it : then doubt came, and a softer reflection. And 
 all the time he meandered on in his seemingly aimless 
 fashion, philosophic upon occasion, occasionally 
 almost humorous in a pathetic, plaintive fashion. 
 
 "You must understand," he said, just before they 
 reached the house in Tachbrook Street, "that I am 
 merely a lodger here, and that my temporary habita- 
 tion is up among the stars. At times a little cold in 
 winter, but exceedingly pleasant in summer. The 
 landlady a good soul who means well, but circum- 
 stances have narrowed her sphere of thought, cramped 
 her philosophy. Moreover, she has two grubby kids. 
 Make as little noise as possible. It might distress 
 them to be awakened out of their first sleep." 
 
 Insensibly his voice sank to a nervous whisper. 
 The girl stopped dead and seized the area railings as 
 though thereby gaining some necessary moral support. 
 
 "I'm not going in," she said in a low determined 
 voice. 
 
 "Not going in," he repeated. "Why not?" 
 
 "Because I'm not as bad as you seem to think me." 
 
 "My dear child, I think of you as one whom I am 
 going to help to the best of my poor ability." 
 
 "I'm not as bad as that either." Her voice trailed 
 off in a low pitiful moan. 
 
 Encouragingly he patted her on the shoulder. 
 
 "To-morrow will be fine," he said. "I systematic- 
 ally maintain that after a good night's rest things 
 always brighten up. Now come, and be careful of 
 the stairs after the first floor that's where the Actor 
 Man lives. After that there's no carpet on them, and 
 they creak horribly." 
 
 He took her hand and half led, half dragged her 
 up the steps. He noticed that her hand was very
 
 66 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 small, and that the fingers were frozen. Carefully 
 he opened the door, carefully he drew her in after 
 him and closed it. Then he led her to the dark stair- 
 way and cautioned her to cling tightly to the banister. 
 
 She trod with the softness of a cat, and presently 
 they reached the upper landing without mishap. Then 
 he softly pushed open the door of his room and 
 entered, the Derelict following. After scrambling for 
 a few moments he discovered a match, struck it, and 
 lit the stump of a candle which was stuck in a beer 
 bottle. The girl stood near the door looking round 
 the room with a wonder in her eyes which was not 
 unmixed with alarm. But if her host noticed this he 
 was much too considerate to remark upon it. 
 
 "Pray be seated," he said kindly, waving her to the 
 one backless, broken-down cane chair with which the 
 room was furnished, "and we will see how the com- 
 missariat can answer to this unexpected call upon its 
 resources." 
 
 It did answer, but not with reckless prodigality. 
 There was some bread and cheese, and the remains of 
 a red-faced German sausage. 
 
 "I am afraid," said he, "that I have been unduly 
 neglectful of this important side of the question ; but, 
 as a matter of fact, I merely take my coffee and roll 
 here of a morning. The landlady, though a good and 
 cheerful soul, is an execrable cook, one who does not 
 even know how to boil cabbage. Accordingly I 
 trouble her as little as possible." 
 
 But in spite of this explanation the Derelict, instead 
 of eating, looked at him with great serious eyes. 
 
 "I'm not hungry," she said. 
 
 "Not hungry!" 
 
 "Not really. I was a little; but the feeling has 
 passed away."
 
 A DERELICT 67 
 
 "Come," he said, "we will restore it. The cheese is 
 sound, the bread wholesome, and that alien concoction 
 is of the best. I do not as a rule approve the alien, 
 but there are one or two things I am unpatriotic 
 enough to believe he does a little better than we are 
 capable of doing." 
 
 He pushed the plate into her lap and looked at her 
 with kindly eyes. It was a wan little face surmounted 
 by a tangle of coarse red hair. The eyes were dark 
 and absurdly large. 
 
 "And you," she said, looking up at him wistfully. 
 
 "I don't understand." 
 
 "Ain't you going to share it? " 
 
 "My dear young lady, if you were to go down on 
 your knees and implore me to partake of the richest 
 feast that was ever spread before Lucullus, I should 
 have to deny you the gratification of seeing me eat. 
 Already I feel like an inflated ox." 
 
 He drew up his gaunt frame and threw out his long 
 chest in a vain endeavour to look imposing. The 
 girl's heavy lids dropped over her heavy eyes. His 
 eyes dropped on to the particle of German sausage. 
 His lips twitched. 
 
 Slowly she ate, sparingly, like one who forces 
 nature to act against conscience. 
 
 "I am afraid I have nothing to offer you in the 
 way of wine," he explained. "The fact is, my land- 
 lady possesses a most enterprising cat." 
 
 The faint ghost of a smile passed over her face. 
 
 "Water will do quite well, thank you." 
 
 Her host immediately launched out into a long dis- 
 quisition on the super-excellent merits of water, treating 
 the subject with that philosophic insight which ren- 
 dered him such an exceedingly remarkable person. 
 The girl listened but said nothing, for she had not 
 E 2
 
 68 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 yet come to a definite decision regarding him. The 
 evidence in favour of the amiable lunatic was most 
 pronounced. Yet there might be a deeper method in 
 his madness. 
 
 She nibbled, nibbled until she had dispatched about 
 a third of the provender. Then she handed the plate 
 to him. 
 
 "Why," said he, "a mouse would have eaten more." 
 
 " I never was a big eater." 
 
 "Then we'll save this for breakfast a sort of 
 appetizer, you know," he added apologetically. 
 
 He returned the plate to the little cupboard above 
 the washstand, trimmed the candle, and *hen smiled 
 at her most reassuringly. 
 
 "Now, I think it's time we said good-night. I'm 
 afraid that's the best I can do for you at present," 
 said he, inclining his long neck towards the bed. 
 "It's not all rose leaves, but once you've found out 
 the soft places you'll lie quite comfortably." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 "Oh, I shall use my other room to-night. Please 
 don't trouble about me. But you are quite sure I can 
 do nothing else for you ? " 
 
 "Nothing, thank you." 
 
 He did not notice the sudden softness that came 
 into her eyes, for already he was at the door. As he 
 closed it behind him he stood for a moment in hesita- 
 tion. Then, as if inspired, he descended to the next 
 floor. Presently he heard his door gently open, and 
 then as gently close again. Smiling brightly at the 
 success of his ruse, he mounted stealthily to his own 
 landing and sat himself at the head of the stairs. 
 
 He sat there for the rest of the night.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 BETTY 
 
 WITH the first grey streaks of the morning the 
 door of the Major's bedroom was partly opened and 
 a pale little face with tousled red hair peeped through 
 the aperture. Though the landing was still in semi- 
 gloom she easily distinguished the gaunt figure of 
 her host propped up against the wall. He was sit- 
 ting with his hands clasped tightly round his legs, 
 his knees doubled up until they were on a level with 
 his chin : the chin itself was resting on the upturned 
 knees. 
 
 As she watched him a feeling curiously strange 
 swept through her: her eyes stung, her lips twitched. 
 Then noiselessly she opened the door still wider, 
 cautiously gathering her skirts tightly about her as 
 she tiptoed out on the landing. But just as she put 
 out her hand to clutch the banister, one of the loose 
 boards creaked ominously. The sleeper stirred and 
 opened his eyes. Those eyes met hers and he was 
 instantly wide awake. Out shot his long legs, crack- 
 ing as they went. 
 
 "By Jove," he said, "I believe I've overslept 
 myself." 
 
 For a moment or so she did not answer, but her 
 dark eyes grew strangely soft. 
 
 "I'm going," she said in a low voice. "Thank 
 you." 
 
 69
 
 70 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 Cautiously he looked her up and down. She 
 seemed but a slip of a girl in the dim light, a weird, 
 fantastic creature all eyes and hair. 
 
 14 Where are you going ? " 
 
 "I dunno. Back to him, I suppose." 
 
 "Him?" 
 
 "Oh, it don't matter where I go." 
 
 She would have passed him, but he put out his 
 hand. 
 
 "Not like that. Have some breakfast first." 
 
 "You've done enough," she whispered : "more than 
 I deserve. Good-bye." 
 
 But he caught her hand and led her back to the 
 room. Pushing wide the door he bowed for her to 
 enter. She hesitated, that strange look of wonder 
 still in her eyes. But seeing him advance she re- 
 treated mechanically. He entered after her and softly 
 closed the door. Then he turned to the window and 
 pulled up the blind. When he again confronted her 
 his face was beaming with benevolence. 
 
 " Did you sleep well ? " 
 
 The question seemed almost like a mockery. Yet 
 there was no mockery in his glance. She nodded, 
 appearing suddenly to have lost all power of ex- 
 pression. 
 
 "Good," he said, and seemed to think it was so. 
 "Now we'll see what we can do in the way of break- 
 fast. I'm afraid there isn't much to offer, but to such 
 as it is you are heartily welcome." 
 
 From the little cupboard over the washstand he 
 brought forth the scanty remains of last night's 
 supper and modestly laid it before her. Then 
 with a bow and the most generous of smiles he 
 invited her to eat. But she stood stock-still by
 
 BETTY 71 
 
 the door, the same curious look of wonder in her 
 eyes. 
 
 "Was you out there all night?" she asked, indicat- 
 ing with a movement of her hand the landing. 
 
 "Er er let me see. Was I?" he mumbled. 
 
 "You was," she said decisively. 
 
 "Perhaps. It doesn't matter anyway. Why don't 
 you eat ? " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because you must be hungry." 
 
 "No. Why did you do it?" 
 
 "Why did I do what?" he repeated lamely. 
 
 "Why did you stay out there?" 
 
 For a moment he seemed puzzled to find an answer. 
 Then his inventive faculty came to the rescue. 
 
 "Well, you see, it was like this. I thought I had 
 the key of the other room in my pocket, but I must 
 have mislaid it, and I didn't like to disturb the house. 
 But don't you worry about me. I'm an old cam- 
 paigner. The little ills that some people find in- 
 supportable are to me the merest trifles. And you've 
 no idea how remarkably comfortable it was." 
 
 He was still blue and shivering with the cold, 
 though he made a gallant effort to hide his abject 
 condition. 
 
 "Look here," she exclaimed suddenly, "it strikes 
 me I ain't playing the game." 
 
 "The meaning of that remarkable though some- 
 what cryptic utterance passes my comprehension." 
 
 "You don't know what I mean?" 
 
 "My dear young lady, I only beg of you to permit 
 me to dispense my hospitality, such as it is, in my 
 own fashion. You have done me the honour to 
 accept that hospitality, for which I tender you the
 
 72 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 most sincere thanks. This confidence of yours more 
 than balances the account. I am your debtor." 
 
 "But don't you want nothing?" she asked, bewil- 
 derment still writ large in every feature of her little 
 pale face. It was not much she had to give just her 
 all but the sudden desire to sacrifice overwhelmed 
 her. There was no grasping the meaning of such an 
 unheard-of absurdity. Moreover, that nobility in- 
 herent in the thought of sacrifice was moving her 
 strangely now. Never had she felt so curiously 
 humble. Through a whirl of thought this strange 
 humility seemed to obsess her. To analyze it was 
 beyond her. There was indeed no thought of 
 analysis, no thought that even such was necessary. 
 She only knew that she wanted to do something, and 
 the dumb obstinate pain of the thought seemed to 
 grip her by the throat. 
 
 "But you are not eating anything," he protested. 
 
 "I can't," she cried: "I won't!" 
 
 "Well, it isn't much to ask a girl to sit down to. 
 I apologize." 
 
 "No, no, no ! It's not that. The food is too good 
 for me. I'm not even worth a crust of it. I'm 
 rotten ! " 
 
 "You are a very obstinate child." He rebuked 
 her mildly. "I suppose it's the hair." 
 
 "Don't you like my hair?" 
 
 It was curious, he thought, how the woman asserted 
 herself. 
 
 "Yes, very much. But you are extremely 
 obstinate." 
 
 "And I thought I was a fool." 
 
 "Obstinacy is a quality which seems to be scat- 
 tered indiscriminately among the masses of mankind
 
 BETTY 73 
 
 for their undoing. I often wonder if it is not the 
 true meaning of original sin ; for surely more sorrow- 
 ing or suffering comes from it, or through it, than 
 from any other of our vices." 
 
 "I'll eat," she said, "if you want me to." 
 
 "Of course I want you to." 
 
 Without a word she took up the bread and sausage 
 and began to nibble. 
 
 "Pity it is so early," he remarked. "We might 
 have had a nice cup of coffee." 
 
 And still she seemed indecisive, uncertain, as 
 though not yet quite clear in her mind as to whether 
 he was laughing at her or not. Of a truth this long 
 gaunt creature was something of a Chinese puzzle. 
 She could not put him together. 
 
 She ate but little, and then handed him the plate. 
 He took it, and rolled carefully in a piece of paper all 
 that remained of the sausage and bread. This he held 
 out to her. 
 
 "I wish you would take it with you. It will do to 
 feed the sparrows." 
 
 Again that sudden smarting of the eyes. But she 
 rejected the offer. 
 
 "You're a rum cove," she said. 
 
 "I hope not. At least not so rum as to be notice- 
 able. Only genius or riches can afford to be 
 eccentric. I'm a poor plain devil of a fellow so 
 circumscribed by convention that I dare not even be 
 what I would." 
 
 "My word, you 'ave got the patter," she said 
 admiringly. "I once heard a cove in Churton Street 
 talk like you. He was sellin' corn cure at a tanner 
 the bottle." 
 
 "Lucky fellow to have a corn cure to sell. I'd sell
 
 74 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 myself to anybody, corns and all, for half that modest 
 sum." 
 
 "I'd buy you," she said quickly. 
 
 " God forbid that you should be burdened with such 
 a bargain." 
 
 He looked past her, out through the window, over 
 the grimy chimneys. Watching him she knew that 
 he had suddenly grown oblivious of her presence. 
 
 "I've had enough of this," she exclaimed. "I'm 
 oph." 
 
 "Yes, yes, of course. I'd forgotten. Nuttall will 
 soon be putting on his boots, and he's always in a 
 deuce of a temper when he has to don his hobbers. 
 If he or his estimable wife were to meet you they 
 might become impertinently inquisitive. By the way, 
 if I can be of any service to you, my name's 
 Sarning." 
 
 "Mine's Pendleton Betty Pendleton. But you 
 can't be of no service to me. I'm done for." 
 
 "Look here," he said in a shy, hesitating manner, 
 "would you be very much offended if I " he fumbled 
 in his pocket and held out a shilling, his last treasure 
 on earth " if I were to lend you this ? " 
 
 "Is that the only one?" she asked. 
 
 "Oh, dear no ! Unfortunately the only one I have 
 on me." 
 
 "I see. No, thanks. It wouldn't be any good to 
 me," she added quickly, roughly, abruptly. 
 
 "I'm sorry," he replied; "but when a chap is 
 prodigal the amount of money he gets through is 
 really stupendous." 
 
 "My Gawd," she muttered, "stewpendous ! " 
 
 But the Major was not quite sure that he entirely 
 grasped the significance of her expression. Perhaps
 
 BETTY 75 
 
 he did not attempt to, or he may not even have heard 
 it. And yet all his thought just then was of her. 
 She was so pale, so young, and above all things she 
 was a woman. A woman ! He had a great reverence 
 for women. It pained him inexpressibly to see them 
 enter the great battle of existence. The old-fashioned 
 idea of a home and wife and children was always 
 with him. He knew quite well there were scoffers of 
 such things, but that made no difference at all to him. 
 He felt sure that when age came and passion died 
 his would be found the true ideal of human life. 
 Every day he saw the plain women go to their 
 drudgery, the pretty ones flaunt in taxi-cabs and 
 motor-cars. They were having a wild glorious time 
 of it, living to-day and dying to-morrow. But even 
 they did not all die on the morrow : there might be 
 dreary years for not a few of them. Sweet flowers 
 of the wayside how sorry he was for them. Women 
 who might have been noble, the mother of noble 
 sons ! The pity, the shame, the sorrow of it all. 
 They, flashing by like Solomon in all his glory, never 
 saw the long, gaunt shabby man with the tender grey 
 eyes. He was not the kind of man they would notice. 
 Estimable Down-at-Heels is a fellow to be shunned. 
 The world has no use for him. 
 
 "Look here," he said suddenly, "if I ask a question 
 it is not from mere impertinent curiosity. You needn't 
 answer unless you like. I advance no claim to your 
 confidence. But just now you said something of 
 going back to ' him.' Don't you want to go back 
 to him ? " 
 
 She opened her dress at the neck and showed him 
 a heavy bruise on her slender white throat. 
 
 "That's him," she said : "that's Bob Langford."
 
 76 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Your husband?" 
 
 "No, thank Gawd!" 
 
 "And what does Bob Langford do?" 
 
 "That, an' worse, when he's drunk." 
 
 The Major's eyes sparkled ominously. Beat a 
 woman ! His long ringers itched to get at the brute's 
 throat. 
 
 " I mean, what does he work at ? " 
 
 "Odd jobs round the wharves at Nine Elms. He 
 sent me out last night to get money." 
 
 "And rather than return to him without it you 
 would have gone to the river?" 
 
 "He would 'ave-'alf-killed-me." Curiously, quickly, 
 she ran the words into one. 
 
 "And when you leave here?" 
 
 A look of fear came into her eyes. Then they 
 grew reckless, defiant. 
 
 "What's it matter!" 
 
 Slowly and solemnly Charles Sarning shook his 
 head. Aware that her English was not flawless, there 
 was still that about her which seemed to suggest 
 possibilities; a certain reminiscent air, it might be 
 called, which sent the mind wandering back into dark 
 far-distant grooves. Here was a problem after his 
 own heart, fit subject for the analytical mind of a 
 peripatetic philosopher. Moreover, she was not 
 always vanquished by that terrible eighth letter. 
 Unless he misread her completely she was not wholly 
 lacking intelligence. 
 
 "You don't want to go back to him ? " 
 
 "He'd make me." 
 
 "How can he make you ? This is a free country." 
 
 "You don't know him ! " 
 
 "True, I have been spared that misfortune, one of
 
 BETTY 77 
 
 the few in life that seems to have passed me by. But 
 Mr. Langford may not find it so easy to cow a man." 
 
 "He's the terror of Nine Elms! You should see 
 him clear a bar. He's no coward," she added quickly, 
 curiously perverse in her feminine way. 
 
 " Yet he beats you ! " 
 
 "You see, drink maddens him," she explained. 
 
 "Then you care for him?" 
 
 "I hate him," she answered viciously. "I wish he 
 was in jail for life. I wish he was hung : I wish 
 some man would come along and smash his head in. 
 I wish he'd break his blasted neck or kill a pleece- 
 man." 
 
 The hot blood of revolt rose to her pale face, flush- 
 ing it to a singular brilliancy. Her eyes shone 
 fiercely, ominously : the little body swayed and 
 quivered with passion. 
 
 "Oh, I'm not lazy," she continued vehemently. "I 
 know how to work; I've always had to. Look!" 
 She held out her hands, narrow hands with slim 
 fingers scarred and red. "I'd work them to the bone 
 rather than that." 
 
 "Honest, Betty Pendleton ? " 
 
 "Of course, you don't believe me. Why should 
 you ? But do you think many girls take to that kind 
 of life from choice? D'you think they don't know? 
 It's drift, drift, and then what does anything 
 matter ! " 
 
 The calm grey eyes were watching her intently. 
 It was not a quick brain behind those eyes : it was 
 subject to no flashes of inspiration. Rather did 
 things evolve themselves with slow measure, the 
 environing light growing more intense. But in the 
 ultimate glow it saw things as they are. Perhaps it
 
 78 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 saw something now. At any rate it seemed to be 
 labouring under that impression. 
 
 "I wonder if I could help you?" 
 
 Involuntarily her eyes roved round the shabby 
 room. Seeing that look an odd smile fluttered for 
 a moment at the corners of his mouth. 
 
 "I am perfectly willing to grant you the seeming 
 absurdity," he continued. "Probably you would 
 prefer your independence, though that would not be 
 interfered with. Somehow I don't fancy this Mr. 
 Langford. He seems to be the kind of person for 
 whom one's respect might increase with distance. 
 But if he labours under the delusion that he can 
 command, we must endeavour to disabuse his mind 
 of that fallacy." 
 
 "He's a terror," she reiterated. "He'd smash you 
 in two twos. I've seen him break a man's jaw before 
 to-day. He plays with me as though I was a wisp of 
 straw." 
 
 "Evidently a person of some consequence. Still, 
 there are others. Once on a time I could use 'em 
 a little myself." The mild eyes flashed, the figure 
 stiffened. It was as though the breath of battle had 
 been suddenly blown into the nostrils of the old war- 
 horse. "But that's all long ago: vanished into the 
 limbo of bad dreams. Last night you feared the 
 future ? " 
 
 "To-day 1 don't." 
 
 "What did I tell you! Things have a way of 
 brightening up. No trouble is so great that sleep 
 will not lessen. We must do something for you, 
 Betty Pendleton." 
 
 "You can't." 
 
 "We can try, but you must help us. Will you?"
 
 BETTY 79 
 
 "What's the good. I'm bad through and 
 through." 
 
 "Not a bit of it. You're good through and 
 through. That's the paradox." 
 
 "Me, good me! Oh, Lor', you don t know how 
 good I am ! " There was a sardonic ring in her voice 
 which he totally ignored. 
 
 "Frankly, I don't. But I hope to find out." 
 
 "Then cross the river to Nine Elms and ask them 
 there." 
 
 He took her hand and looked steadily into her 
 face. 
 
 "You are too young to have gone far, your eyes 
 are too honest to deceive. I don't believe you know 
 what honest eyes yours are. Some people profess to 
 read character from the eyes, and I am not so sure 
 that they are far wrong. I like your eyes, they are 
 full of mystery and pain. They may be clearer some 
 day. They will be very beautiful then when things 
 have brightened up." 
 
 Her lip quivered and she began to tremble. Two 
 great drops shone for a moment on her lashes and 
 then broke upon her cheeks. She dropped on the 
 chair and hid her face in her hands. He did not 
 speak, but gently patted the head with its wealth of 
 glorious rough hair. Her frail body shook with sobs. 
 The Major found the situation most distressing. 
 
 "Look here," he said, "Alfred ought to be stirring 
 by this. I'll go and look him up. You don't know 
 Alfred, of course, but you shall. He's a real good 
 sort in spite of his shaggy exterior. You won't move 
 till I return?" 
 
 "What's the good?" she asked again. 
 
 "Who knows? Promise,"
 
 80 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "All right. I'll stop here till you come back. But 
 I don't see no good of it. Ain't you afraid to trust 
 me? I might be a thief." 
 
 He smiled rather oddly as his eyes wandered round 
 the room. 
 
 "I'm not afraid," he said, as he nodded to her from 
 the door. 
 
 Left alone Betty Pendleton tried to collect her 
 scattered thoughts. Truly in all her life she had 
 never met so extraordinary a person. At one moment 
 his platitudes sounded to her like the sheerest 
 hypocrisy, a mixture of the dull stereotyped utter- 
 ances of a curate and the more vehement outpourings 
 of a street corner Salvationist ; at the next he seemed 
 so palpably sincere that she could only grope wonder- 
 ingly in the mazes of his mysterious complexity. 
 Never had she met his like, nor could she grasp a 
 tithe of the full significance of him. Brought up in 
 an atmosphere of lying and deceit, a world where men 
 and women waged unceasing war upon each other, 
 where the weakest went to the wall without hope of 
 recovery, she failed utterly to comprehend the matter 
 of which this strange being was made. At first he 
 seemed a fool of the most obvious description : yet 
 she was not slow to correct that estimate. Vaguely 
 she seemed to realize that this man was other than 
 he seemed: that ^beyond her there was "an explana- 
 tion of things which hovered dimly before her mental 
 vision. 
 
 Her glance wandered round the bare shabby room. 
 To her there was nothing frightful in shabbiness. At 
 its worst it bespoke poverty, and she with poverty had 
 been long acquainted. But she was a shrewd little 
 person in her own narrow way, reared in the hard
 
 BETTY 81 
 
 school of adversity, and she began to wonder how 
 he could help her. Having made up one's mind to 
 live, one must seek the necessary wherewithal to pro- 
 long existence. Maybe for many of us the act is 
 a kind of madness. That was an hypothesis which 
 concerned her but little. Since there was a life to 
 live, and since she must live it, nature insisted upon 
 her finding an answer to the great enigma how ? 
 How did the poor live, how had they always lived ? 
 She was not one to be daunted by the question. But 
 if living now was to be different from what it had 
 been, what was likely to be the nature of it? 
 
 And then her thoughts reverted to the strange 
 gaunt creature with the kind pathetic eyes, and she 
 knew not if he or she were the greater fool. Of a 
 truth the law of existence, as she understood it, was 
 all at sixes and sevens. She had not been true to the 
 least of her ideals, and deep down in her misunder- 
 standing soul quivered a vague suspicion of revolt.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE INTERVIEW 
 
 WHEN Major Sarning entered the room he found 
 Aloes in a shabby dressing-gown of faded blue seated 
 before a no less shabby table, a pen in his hand and 
 a sheet of paper before him. His hair, unkempt, was 
 roughly brushed back from his heavy brow, his bare 
 feet were thrust into a pair of old woollen slippers, 
 and the fumes of a strong pipe still filled the atmo- 
 sphere with a pungent odour. The heavy brow was 
 ruffled, for he was deep in the throes of composition, 
 that celebrated work, The Philosophy of a Savage, 
 having somewhat unceremoniously dragged him from 
 the comfort of his bed. 
 
 "The potentiality of woman for all that is highest 
 in human nature is so immense, so immeasurably on 
 the side of the angels, that one wonders by what 
 strange freak of destiny she seems insensibly impelled 
 towards destruction. Who, journeying through life 
 even with eyes half open, has not been struck by the 
 awful Waste of Woman ? Nobility degraded, virtue 
 flaunted with inconceivable audacity, sweet fruits with 
 the bloom still on them flung like offal in the gutter. 
 Had man but tears to shed he would drown the world 
 at the appalling thought of it." 
 
 He rested, looked closely at the words, and then 
 leant forward to continue his dissertation, when Sarn- 
 ing entered the room. Laying aside his pen with a 
 sigh he mechanically took up his half-burnt pipe. 
 
 82
 
 88 
 
 In sheer amazement he listened to the story unfolded 
 by the philanthropist, though Charles never fluttered 
 an eyelash during the period of narration. In the 
 most matter-of-fact manner he told of the meeting 
 with Betty Pendleton, apparently considering what 
 had happened to be quite consistent with well-ordered 
 routine. 
 
 "And you mean to say she's in your room now?" 
 
 "Yes; and my jewel-case is open." 
 
 "But what made you bring her here?" 
 
 "My dear Alfred, where else could I take her? If 
 I had left her in the street she would have drowned 
 herself." 
 
 "Rubbish!" 
 
 "I didn't happen to think so. The poor little 
 beggar was fairly on her uppers. Such a pathetic 
 little beggar, Alfred. You would have done the 
 same." 
 
 "But, my dear fellow, can't you see the appalling 
 folly of it? You had no right to bring her here. It's 
 not fair to Ma Nuttall." 
 
 "Why not ? What right has she to object ? " And 
 then suddenly, with a look of consternation: "You 
 don't think that I " 
 
 Aloes shrugged a pair of heavy shoulders. 
 
 "My dear Charles, what would one think? You 
 pick up a woman in the streets and bring her home. 
 Even you will admit that the evidence does not favour 
 you. Personally I claim no kindred with the higher 
 moralities, nor do I consider myself superior on that 
 account; yet I should undoubtedly hesitate before 
 going quite so far." 
 
 "But don't you see," insisted the other, perhaps a 
 little lamely, "she would have committed suicide if 
 
 F 2
 
 84 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 I had left her. She was really desperate and starv- 
 ing. A brute of a man had sent her out to find 
 money. She dared not return to him without it." 
 
 "So she's one of that sort?" 
 
 "That's just what she isn't; but she might be." 
 
 "And you would save her?" 
 
 Aloes made no attempt to stifle the sneer. The man 
 was frankly impossible. 
 
 "But don't you see, the poor little beggar was 
 hungry starving ! Fancy, starving ! " 
 
 "What about the man you mentioned?" 
 
 "She hates him and is afraid of him. He beats 
 her ! " 
 
 "I dare say she deserves it." 
 
 "Most of us may deserve a beating. All the same, 
 we shouldn't like it. She has the most wonderful 
 pathetic eyes; and I don't think she's really bad. She 
 is too pathetic to be bad." 
 
 "So she comes the whining touch, eh? 'Kind 
 gentleman, help a poor, lonely, starving creature who 
 has not had more than half-a-dozen gins to-day.' My 
 dear Charles, I can see what it is. You ought not to 
 be sent out alone." 
 
 "Not a bit like it, Alfred. She didn't come the 
 whining touch. I had the utmost difficulty in persuad- 
 ing her to come with me." 
 
 " You persuaded her to come ! " 
 
 "With the utmost difficulty. I never knew a more 
 obstinate little creature. I suppose it's the hair. It's 
 red." 
 
 "So she has red hair?" 
 
 "Which must look very beautiful when it's 
 washed." 
 
 "Then you are not quite blind?"
 
 THE INTERVIEW 85 
 
 "I hope not. Perhaps I've never told you, but I 
 never had a sister. Yet I can't help thinking when I 
 see these wrecks go by what they must have been to 
 somebody once. Just think, if I had a sister she 
 might be walking the streets hungry." 
 
 "But you can't rescue every worthless creature that 
 walks the streets." 
 
 "Do you think they're worthless? I wonder. It 
 is so often a question of living or dying. Do you 
 think they would be more justified in dying than in 
 living? Even the law, which is without heart or 
 soul, permits them to live, but punishes them if they 
 attempt to die." 
 
 Aloes, usually not the most enduring of men, 
 showed a curious patience in his dealings with this 
 eccentric creature. Convinced that Charles was talk- 
 ing the most arrant un\vorldly nonsense, he yet knew 
 that he was most strangely interested in it. As the 
 ingenuous child might appeal to the strong intelli- 
 gence, so did this man appeal to him. Nor did an 
 occasional freakish outburst of ingenuity destroy that 
 singular sense of superiority, coupled with protection, 
 which predominated over all other feelings. Con- 
 vinced that he had correctly summed up his Charles 
 Sarning, he was yet plagued with a subconsciousness 
 of fallibility. 
 
 Into the ethics of the case Aloes felt it impossible 
 to go. That way lay madness or infinite perplexity. 
 Moreover, he was not so certain that all his worldly 
 wisdom would assure him of victory. Even the mind 
 unskilled in dialectics may stand firm in the con- 
 sciousness of a great truth. 
 
 "I am afraid, my dear Charles," he said, "that our 
 perspective is at variance."
 
 86 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Not, I believe, as much as you would have me 
 think. Yet that is not the matter of most vital inter- 
 est. The thing is, what are we going to do with her ? " 
 
 "We?" 
 
 "Why not? I've come to you for counsel, advice." 
 
 "Then my advice is that if she is still in your room 
 you'd better give her marching orders." 
 
 "That would be a pity." 
 
 " What else can we possibly do ? " 
 
 "I don't know. But I should like you to see her 
 first." 
 
 "How is that going to help matters? It is obvious 
 that we can have nothing to do with a woman of her 
 class." 
 
 "Not really, of course," replied the Major, 
 evidently a little disconcerted. 
 
 "The mistake was in bringing her here. Give her 
 half-a-crown and send her packing." 
 
 "She wouldn't take it." 
 
 Aloes laughed. "Try her." 
 
 "I offered her money: all I had. A shilling." 
 
 "She demanded more?" 
 
 "On the contrary. She refuses to accept any- 
 thing." 
 
 "Refuses to accept money. Red haired. Urn," 
 muttered Aloes as if speaking to himself. "We are 
 in for trouble. Perhaps we had better hear what she 
 has to say." 
 
 "Thanks, Alfred." 
 
 The Major disappeared, leaving Aloes to chew the 
 cud of reflection. So the creature was going to show 
 fight, levy blackmail, or make a scene ! A grim smile 
 spread over Aloes' grim face as he refilled his pipe. 
 Certainly this philanthropist was an exceedingly try-
 
 THE INTERVIEW 87 
 
 ing creature. This rescuing of the lovely female, 
 though well enough in the misty realms of the 
 Arthurian legend, was but ill adapted to the twentieth 
 century and a derelict of Pimlico. One did not asso- 
 ciate romance with such : it needed the glamour of 
 centuries to make vice heroic. Though in his heart 
 he could not doubt the chivalry of Charles Sarning, 
 yet he was not even annoyed to find himself wonder- 
 ing if there were no suggestion of hypocrisy in this 
 solicitude. For all failings to which he himself was 
 prone he had a large generosity. But Charles need 
 not have been so bold in his amours. A prince of the 
 blood could not have shown a more sublime contempt 
 for convention, or a greater indelicacy. 
 
 As for the red-haired virago, he would soon send 
 her about her business. Cunning creature. Evidently 
 keen to perceive the ease with which Sarning might 
 be victimized, she was not slow to grasp the fact that 
 capital might be enmeshed through this venture. An 
 odd little smile flickered round the corners of his 
 mouth as he thought of the difficulty she would 
 experience in attempting to wring the good red gold 
 from Charles. Yet undoubtedly the intention was 
 there, or he was willing to credit her with it, and of 
 a woman's intention he had a very natural trepida- 
 tion. Odd how the sex managed to strip a man 
 morally, intellectually and financially. 
 
 His eye caught the partly written page before him. 
 "The potentiality of woman for all that is highest 
 in human nature." Hurriedly he hid the sheet away 
 in a drawer. What did he know of woman ? 
 
 Charles Sarning entered nervously, followed by 
 Betty. Aloes swung round in his chair, looked at 
 her, and met a defiant glance.
 
 88 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "This is the lady, Alfred." Aloes favoured her 
 with a frigid inclination of the head. "Won't you 
 take a seat ? " added the Major graciously. 
 
 "No, thanks. I don't know why I'm here at all. 
 What's it mean ? " 
 
 "This is my friend, Mr. Hallows." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 The announcement did not seem to impress her. 
 Who was Mr. Hallows anyway, and what did it 
 matter? 
 
 Aloes looked at the girl without speaking, a close, 
 steady, scrutinizing look which might have discon- 
 certed a less self-possessed young person. He saw a 
 somewhat delicate face with large dark eyes : her hair 
 was thick and rough and red. She saw a rugged, 
 dark, sallow-faced man who looked at her steadily 
 from under bushy eyebrows. Neither of them 
 appeared unduly impressed with the other. The 
 Major, seeing this, began to shift his feet uneasily. 
 
 "You'll know me next time," said the girl. 
 
 "Perhaps I know you already." 
 
 "What's it," she asked sharply, flashing a quick 
 glance at Sarning : "a pleece trap?" 
 
 Aloes smiled. "No. My friend merely expressed 
 the desire that we should meet." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 "That we should become better acquainted." 
 
 "It wasn't necessary." 
 
 "Very few things are. But that's no reason why 
 we should quarrel. What do you want?" 
 
 "What do I want! I don't want nothing not 
 that you look as if you had anything to spare. I 
 didn't even want to come. He asked me." 
 
 "And rather than disappoint him you consented? " 
 
 "Look here," cried the girl, "what are you getting
 
 THE INTERVIEW 89 
 
 at ? Who are you anyway ? Why should you ques- 
 tion me? I'm nothing to you. I can go my own 
 way." 
 
 " Precisely. Why shouldn't you ? " 
 
 "Why shouldn't I what? " Two hot spots began 
 to show on her pale cheeks. 
 
 "Go your own way." 
 
 "I mean to." 
 
 "But you needn't get angry." 
 
 "Would you get angry if any one was to treat you 
 like a dog?" 
 
 "Decidedly." 
 
 "Then why should you think I'm a dog? He's 
 told you, I suppose, all about me, or as much as he 
 knows ? But what does he know ? " 
 
 "That's just the point." 
 
 "I must be a fool," she cried abruptly. 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 "To come here and let you talk to me. Who are 
 you ? " 
 
 "Another fool who has made a mess of his life. 
 We're a pair, Miss Betty Pendleton, and yet I dare 
 say we think ourselves rather clever. Now, isn't that 
 foolish of us ? " 
 
 For a moment or so she looked steadily at him 
 without speaking. 
 
 "I don't think I quite understand you. I don't 
 know why I'm here, or what you're driving at. An' 
 I don't care, either," she added defiantly. 
 
 "My friend is a philanthropist," began Mr. 
 Hallows, a curious little cynic smile peeping from 
 under his heavy moustache. 
 
 "I've had some," she said. "Next, please." 
 
 " He labours under the impression that he can be of 
 service to you. Is that so?"
 
 90 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "It seems to me," her eyes flashed round the shabby 
 room, "that you might first be of service to your- 
 selves." 
 
 "Quite so. The charity that begins at home." 
 
 "I don't want none of your charity. I can earn 
 my own living." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "Swine!" 
 
 The word was rattled at him like the report of a 
 revolver. 
 
 "Perhaps." But a smile was slowly stealing over 
 his face. 
 
 "What am I up against?" asked the girl, her 
 glance flashing inquiry from one to the other. 
 
 "A couple of friends," said Aloes. 
 
 She looked at them for a moment or so without 
 speaking. There was wonder in her eyes, and a 
 curious kind of nervousness. 
 
 "Well, you are a rum pair," she at length ejacu- 
 lated. "Go on. Anything else? Let me have it 
 all." 
 
 "It's like this," interposed the Major kindly: "we 
 don't want you to go back to Bob Langford." 
 
 "He does," and she looked sharply at Aloes. 
 
 "Oh, but he doesn't," said Aloes. "He is just won- 
 dering if you would care to give up Mr. Langford 
 and all that sort of thing." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 "A less exciting existence." 
 
 "Look here," she cried suddenly, "you puzzle me. 
 I never met your sort before or his either," indicat- 
 ing the Major. "I don't understand your way of say- 
 ing things, of doing things. He picked me up last 
 night, starving; he brought me here, gave me food,
 
 THE INTERVIEW 91 
 
 gave me his bed while he slept out on the landing in 
 the cold. Straight. I don't understand that sort of 
 thing. What's it mean?" 
 
 There was a strange thoughtful look in Aloes' eyes 
 as he turned to the Major. That culprit grew not a 
 little confused beneath the glance. Well as he 
 knew, or thought he knew, Charles Sarning, there 
 were depths which even his cynic probings had not 
 sounded. 
 
 "Just exactly what you like to make it." 
 
 "I can't make it nothing. I'm outed." 
 
 There was something of reckless defiance in the 
 admission, the effect of which was perhaps heightened 
 by the faint suspicion of regret which seemed to linger 
 long after the words had been spoken. 
 
 "Nothing of the kind," said Aloes cheerily. "It 
 takes a lot to out some of us, as my friend and I can 
 tell you. Good Lord, if we had taken it all lying 
 down we might have gone to the river long ago. The 
 absurdity of that is that nobody would care, and it's 
 no use doing a thing if nobody cares. It wouldn't 
 interest them, and it would only disappoint us. But 
 to disappoint them in the achievement of noble work 
 that is a revenge worth fighting for. Besides, it is 
 not the offence in itself that greatly counts : it all 
 depends on who commits it. Therefore the poor must 
 always be particular." 
 
 She stared at him, her great dark eyes full of 
 wonder. Then from him she turned to the Major, 
 from whom intuitively she seemed to expect sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 "It's like this," said he gently : "if you don't want 
 to go back you needn't." 
 
 Again her glance wandered round the shabby room
 
 92 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 and seemed to rest on Aloes' shabby dressing-gown. 
 He saw the look, read it, and an odd humorous light 
 twinkled in his eyes. 
 
 "Frankly, my dear young lady," he said, "we are 
 not millionaires. Frequently we are not a little 
 pushed to make both ends meet; but if agreeable 
 to you we are perfectly willing to see what can be 
 done." 
 
 "I dunno what to think," replied the girl, looking 
 straight at Aloes. "Are you like him?" nodding 
 towards the Major. 
 
 "No," answered Aloes emphatically, "nobody is 
 like him ; but sometimes I strive to follow at a 
 distance." 
 
 At that moment the door was unceremoniously 
 pushed open and Mr. Navarre entered. He, like 
 Aloes, was clad in a dressing-gown, much the worse 
 for wear, which he had thrown over his pyjamas. A 
 freshly lighted cigarette was between his lips. He 
 entered somewhat boisterously as usual, a merry quip 
 on his tongue, a smile on his face ; but at the sight of 
 the girl, pale, irresolute, and the two serious men, 
 the quip died, the smile faded. Frank amazement 
 took its place, and he ejaculated an indecisive 
 "Hullo!" 
 
 "Let me introduce you to Miss Pendleton," said 
 Aloes gravely. 
 
 Navarre was instantly courtesy personified, as was 
 the way of him in the presence of a woman. He 
 began at once to arrange the collar of his dressing- 
 gown so as to hide the pyjama jacket beneath. Also 
 he passed his hands rapidly over his tangled hair as 
 if to press it to subjection. 
 
 "Delighted to meet you, Miss Pendleton," he said,
 
 THE INTERVIEW 93 
 
 bowing with as much grace as though he were "well 
 down centre" with the limelight full upon him. 
 
 Miss Pendleton stared at him without making reply, 
 though inwardly she wondered if this one was the 
 maddest of the three. 
 
 "Miss Pendleton is an old friend of ours," Aloes 
 was quick to explain. "She has just come to London, 
 and is staying with us for a few days." 
 
 "How jolly," murmured Navarre, turning a 
 gracious and inquiring smile upon the lady, "how 
 awfully jolly." 
 
 Aloes smartly seized the opportunity to favour 
 Sarning with a significant nod. It said as plainly as 
 look and nod can say : " Get out, and take her with 
 you." But Charles, not being quick to comprehend 
 the meaning of that glance, looked hard at Aloes as if 
 for confirmation. 
 
 "Perhaps Miss Pendleton would like to see her 
 room," suggested Aloes, a suggestion which was 
 accompanied by the sweetest and most significant of 
 smiles. 
 
 "Ah," said the Major. "I beg your pardon, Miss 
 Pendleton. Of course you must be frightfully tired 
 after your long journey." 
 
 Miss Pendleton made no reply, but the look on her 
 face was one of utter bewilderment. Truly these 
 were the queerest people she had ever encountered, 
 and she understood them no more now than she did 
 at the introduction. Nevertheless she turned as the 
 Major held out his hand, and permitted him to lead 
 her away. 
 
 " What's it mean ? " cried Navarre, as soon as the 
 door had closed behind them. 
 
 "Just what you see, old son."
 
 94 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Which ain't much. Who's Miss Pendleton ? " 
 
 "As I explained, an old friend." 
 
 "I don't think!" This with a suggestive wink 
 and a perky cocking of the jaw. 
 
 "You don't," assented Aloes : "that's the trouble." 
 
 "I'm thinking now, though. What's the game?" 
 
 Aloes told him. 
 
 "My word ! Charles is hot stuff." 
 
 "Charles is the best fellow in the world." 
 
 "Maybe; but I don't understand him." 
 
 "You wouldn't." 
 
 "But come, I say! Picks her up in the street, 
 lends her his room, and dosses it on the mat ! Isn't 
 that the limit ? Now I ask you ! " 
 
 "All the same, it's a dead solid fact." 
 
 "But you don't believe it?" 
 
 "Every word." 
 
 "Oh, come now. Arcadia in Pimlico ! " 
 
 "Why not? Do you suppose all the good people 
 are dead?" Navarre nodded. "Strange how the 
 world continues to misinterpret, to misunderstand." 
 
 "The world has had some, my dear Alfred. It's 
 not taking any more, thank you. If you take my 
 advice you'll send your friend from the country pack- 
 ing before Ma Nuttall discovers her. She's a good 
 woman, is Ma, and as you know good women have no 
 sympathy with the erring sisterhood." 
 
 "But we who are neither good, nor women ? " 
 
 "The world will still continue to misinterpret our 
 charity. She wouldn't be half bad, though, that little 
 friend from the country, if she was cleaned up." 
 
 " Suppose we try to clean her ? " 
 
 "We! My dear old son, we could do with a 
 sprinkling of the whitewash ourselves."
 
 THE INTERVIEW 95 
 
 Mr. Navarre laughed uproariously at the joke. 
 There was a subtlety about it which appealed to him 
 with exquisite force. But Aloes did not laugh, and 
 there is nothing more disconcerting to the actor than 
 to find all the hilarity on his side of the footlights. 
 
 "Admitted. Also in the process of whitewashing 
 her we may sprinkle a little on ourselves. Do you 
 follow me ? " 
 
 " My dear Alfred, you were always the most ridicu- 
 lous of persons. Sometimes I think it is a toss-up 
 which is the bigger fool, you or Charles." 
 
 "There can be no question of that. Charles is a 
 good deal beyond us, but with an effort we may lessen 
 the distance." 
 
 "Oh, hang it all, why don't you set him up on a 
 pedestal ! " 
 
 "Perhaps I have." 
 
 Again Mr. Navarre laughed, but not quite so loudly 
 this time. Hang it all, that artist must be in a quan- 
 dary who fails to touch a responsive chord in his 
 audience. 
 
 "Sorry I can't see with your eyes," he said shortly. 
 
 "But you can, and you're going to. We shall want 
 your moral support." 
 
 "Oh, Lor'!" 
 
 The joke was so good that Mr. Navarre opened 
 wide his eyes with genuine artistic effect. Though but 
 an indifferent actor on the stage he was superb off. 
 It was a pity he had no better audience than Aloes. 
 A woman or two to note that look would have made 
 him happy. He always played his best to women. 
 They were so responsive : they understood him. Also 
 it was not without a thrill he heard that demand for 
 his moral support. That put him on inconceivably
 
 good terms with himself. Never before had he been 
 asked for such a thing. He was not quite sure if he 
 had it, or what it meant, or what it was really like. 
 
 "Ma Nuttall must be overcome, subjected, beaten to 
 a state of absolute non-existence. You're her par- 
 ticular pet, Henry. We call on you." 
 
 " Who ever called on a Navarre in vain ! " 
 
 "Precisely. I always knew you were a good 
 chap. It's the getting to the bottom of things that 
 counts." 
 
 Henry had no cuirass to shield him from the bullets 
 of flattery. He began to murmur an apology for his 
 goodness. The flatterer bore the attack with a solemn 
 face, albeit there was a curious little twinkle in his 
 eye which the other might have seen had he not been 
 so deeply engaged studying a pose in Aloes' cracked 
 mirror. 
 
 "I think I can work Ma Nuttall all right," said he, 
 smiling cleverly at his own reflection. "Of course, 
 it'll want a bit of tact and explaining." 
 
 "That's why I approach you, my dear Henry. You 
 have such a way with women." 
 
 "Yes, I flatter myself I know how to approach 'em, 
 young or old. In the main essential, the thing that 
 really counts, the old are always young, the young 
 are always old." 
 
 "Excellent paradox," cried the wily one, and this 
 time he never even suggested a quote from some long- 
 dead comedy. 
 
 " Well, you see, we who make a study of women are 
 naturally much alive to their little idiosyncrasies. 
 And you "may scarcely credit it, my dear Alfred, but 
 I have always found a marvellous similarity between 
 the duchess and an ordinary woman. Both are essen-
 
 THE INTERVIEW 97 
 
 dally feminine, au courang with the facts of life, 
 ready to take a bit, or give." 
 
 "What you don't know of women " began the 
 
 insidious one. But the other cut him short with an 
 exquisite shrug, and a slow graceful undulating move- 
 ment of the arms and hands, the kind of movement 
 one sees in every theatre at every performance. 
 
 "Ah, my dear fellow, it is necessary that an artist 
 should make himself acquainted with every phase of 
 humanity. How else is he to depict the various 
 shades of human emotion ? " 
 
 "Quite so," said Aloes seriously. "Every phase 
 of life appears to have its compensations." 
 
 Henry nodded, but it might be doubted that he 
 understood.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 PERSUASIVE ARGUMENT 
 
 MA NUTTALL never heard of such a thing in all 
 her born days. She was a respectable married 
 woman, and had her "lines" to prove it, the mother 
 of a small but growing family, honestly come by, 
 and she would have no Polls taking shelter beneath 
 her roof. The idea of Major Sarning daring to bring 
 the creature to her house I Much better if he would 
 be good enough to remember that there was a little 
 account still outstanding, due to an honest woman, 
 mark you, and not waste his substance on a pack of 
 good-for-nothing hussies. 
 
 "But I have wasted no money," explained the 
 warrior humbly. "I had none to waste." 
 
 "Then more shame to you for not earning some. 
 I've got to work, work me 'ands to the bone, an' so's 
 Nuttall ; but some people, it seems, can live on the fat 
 of the land and do nothink. Oh my, we ain't lucky 
 no, not 'arf." 
 
 She stuck her stout fists into her stout sides and 
 positively glared at the unfortunate philanthropist. 
 Not the most entrancing of visions even in her Sun- 
 day clothes, attired in work-a-day garb she was a 
 truly formidable apparition. The Major, however, 
 preferred a dignified silence. Stout of argument as 
 he could be at times, he had singularly little to say 
 in the presence of such an implacable opponent.
 
 PERSUASIVE ARGUMENT 99 
 
 "But the question is " began Aloes in his most 
 
 dulcet of tones. Upon occasion even he was not with- 
 out the wisdom to compromise with unreason. 
 
 "It's nothink of the kind," she retorted, "an' you 
 know it, Mr. 'Allows. I'm a respectable married 
 woman with a growin' fambly." 
 
 "Who do you infinite credit, Mrs. Nuttall. Par- 
 ticularly have I noted of late the growing charm of 
 little Hector. Unless I am greatly mistaken there is 
 that in your son of which one day you will be justly 
 proud." 
 
 The Major preserved a stolid countenance, but 
 Navarre turned aside to suppress a violent explosion. 
 
 "My Eckie's orlright," replied the fond mother, not 
 a little mollified by the flattery. "I wish there was 
 more like 'im." 
 
 "A most charitable wish, though I fear utterly 
 incapable of realization. A crop of Eckies is not to 
 be expected in these lean years. There is Ann 
 Emma, too a child in whom I fancy I already per- 
 ceive the admirable characteristics of her mamma." 
 
 He smiled so affably into the round red face that 
 it flushed still deeper with embarrassment. 
 
 "Ann Emma takes after Nuttall," she replied. "A 
 good enough gal, but obstinit." 
 
 "A combination of the father's strength of character 
 with the incomparable seductiveness of the mother. 
 Thrice happy Ann Emma. I foresee possibilities. 
 As I said to Nuttall only the other day : ' The sight 
 of so much domestic happiness makes a bachelor feel 
 very discontented with his lot.' ' 
 
 " 'E never told me, Mr. 'Allows." 
 
 "Slipped his memory, no doubt. When one is 
 accustomed to compliments one cannot remember 
 
 G 2
 
 100 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 them all. But as I was going to say, Mrs. Nuttall, 
 you entirely misapprehend the situation in regard to 
 Miss Pendleton." 
 
 "Miss Pendleton ! " she repeated disdainfully. 
 
 "A daughter of the late General Erasmus Pendle- 
 ton who rode in the Charge of the Light Brigade, 
 and did wonders during the Mutiny. A man of con- 
 sequence was the General, and at one time held the 
 exalted office of Lord Chamberlain to the Ghibelline 
 dynasty. But, between ourselves, he was a spend- 
 thrift who left his daughter so ill provided for that 
 she had to sell his Victoria Crosses and other dis- 
 tinctions. When they were all gone she was forced 
 to take the position of governess to the Duke of 
 Daventry's young daughter by his second wife. All 
 might have gone well for her now had not, unfor- 
 tunately, the duke's son and heir, the Marquis of 
 Naseby, conceived a violent passion for her, so violent 
 indeed that fearing he might marry her the duke, his 
 father, packed him off to Australia, and then dis- 
 missed her, paying a month's salary in lieu of notice. 
 With that she came to London, and, I will admit, 
 was in a desperate plight when my good friend Major 
 Sarning discovered her. In the circumstances he did 
 not hesitate to bring her home; though had she been 
 what you imagine, and very properly so, he would 
 have died before introducing her to your con- 
 sideration." 
 
 Aloes told his story without the flutter of an eye- 
 lid : the Major presented a countenance of stolid 
 sapience, while Navarre seemed to find something 
 uncommonly interesting at the window. As for Mrs. 
 Nuttall, she appeared quite incapable of absorbing 
 the bewildering romance, nor did she make any
 
 PERSUASIVE ARGUMENT 101 
 
 supreme effort to do so. First she stroked her chin, 
 next she pinched the bulge of neck below, and finally 
 wound up by picking at her protruding lower lip. 
 Evidently Miss Pendleton's association with the 
 nobility was not the great and all-absorbing matter at 
 issue. This is really a practical world, and senti- 
 ment is merely a whim which we trifle with in our 
 moments of leisure. What with one thing and 
 another the good lady had few such moments. 
 
 "What I wanter know," she asked suddenly, her 
 arms akimbo, her attitude extremely provocative, "is 
 this : 'Ow's she goin' to p'y for 'er room? Straight, 
 Mr. 'Allows, I ain't goin' to keep no looseness run- 
 ning about my 'ouse. Though I work me 'ands oph 
 it's as much as I can do to make both ends meet." 
 
 "The rent shall be our care," interposed the Major. 
 
 "Oh, indeed!" she said, turning on him with a 
 supercilious snort. "Considering that you carn't p'y 
 your own 'arf the time 'ow are you goin' to p'y 
 'ers ? " 
 
 That looked like a poser, and being fully aware of 
 her unanswerable argument Ma Nuttall flung a 
 triumphant glance from one to the other. 
 
 "I associate myself with Major Sarning," answered 
 Aloes; "and I am sure, if you are still searching for 
 a further guarantee, Mr. Navarre will append a 
 metaphorical signature to the contract. Is that suffi- 
 cient, or would you prefer an assurance from the 
 governor of the Bank of England ? If so, I have no 
 hesitation in saying it shall be forthcoming with the 
 utmost dispatch." 
 
 "I'm in with this little lot," said Navarre. "Cheer 
 up, Ma." 
 
 But Ma still appeared to find this assurance not
 
 102 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 unduly gratifying. Though she had a reverence for 
 any one connected with the stage, she had yet some 
 experience of the unstable histrion. The last two 
 members of that profession whom she had harboured 
 had done what is technically known as a "midnight 
 flit." But what could she do with such a winning 
 creature as Henry Navarre ? He had but to roll those 
 expressive eyes of his, offer her a tot of whisky, and 
 she would have fed and clothed him for a year on 
 the chance of favours to come. 
 
 Had he been alone in this she would not have 
 suffered an instant's hesitation. It was Aloes and 
 the Major that got on her nerves. She readily ad- 
 mitted that she did not understand the former. His 
 profound and lengthy sentences bewildered her : she 
 had an uncomfortable suspicion that he was always 
 laughing at her. Moreover, he belonged to a pro- 
 fession, that of letters, with which she had no 
 sympathy. Why a great strong man should sit down 
 and deliberately spoil nice clean paper instead of 
 wielding a pickaxe or carrying a hod was to her in- 
 comprehensible. Still he was a pretty regular pay, 
 and at times generous in his own rude fashion. For 
 instance, only last Christmas he presented Ann Emma 
 and Little Eckie each with a pair of substantial boots. 
 Nuttall he gave a briar pipe with a silver mount, 
 and half-a-pound of rough-cut. And, my word ! 
 didn't Nuttall fancy himself on Sundays when he lit 
 that beautiful pipe ! His present to her was not 
 quite so obvious, consisting as it did of a bottle of 
 scent, a box containing three tablets of a powerful 
 yellow soap, and a toothbrush. The soap she used 
 on Sundays, the scent she looked at with secret pride, 
 but the toothbrush was a positive waste of good
 
 PERSUASIVE ARGUMENT 103 
 
 money. What use had a woman for a toothbrush 
 if most of her teeth were missing ? 
 
 But that by the way. Mr. Hallows was substantial 
 enough, and paid with some regularity ; but the Major 
 was another pair of shoes entirely, one which did not 
 fit, and never would. It was not that her feet were 
 tender, her corns obtrusive; but there could be no 
 doubt that he made them seem so. 
 
 "I don't know that I ought," she said at last. 
 
 "Nor are we sure that Miss Pendleton will submit 
 to the arrangement," retorted Aloes. "The daughter 
 of General Erasmus Pendleton is bound to be 
 fastidious." 
 
 "She'll submit orlright," replied Mrs. Nuttall with 
 a distinct touch of sarcasm. 
 
 "I am hopeful," he answered gravely, "though I 
 know Miss Pendleton to be a high-spirited, decidedly 
 independent young lady." 
 
 "Ar!" She smiled vaguely. And still she de- 
 murred. "Sure I dunno what Nuttall '11 say." 
 
 He knew exactly that Bill Nuttall would say, " 'Ow 
 much ? " Bill, like most of us, had an eye for money 
 and one or two other things. 
 
 "I think you can manage him all right. A clever 
 woman like you," insinuated the wily one. "Nuttall 
 is quite sensible to realize that what you do will be 
 for the best." 
 
 "But what about 'er food?" 
 
 "That will be our care." 
 
 "Oh, well, if you like to take on that sort of thing 
 it's no business of mine." 
 
 "None at all," assented Aloes. 
 
 "Still it's my 'ouse," she added sharply, wishing 
 to demonstrate her importance.
 
 104 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Why, of course; and it is that knowledge which 
 makes us all so eager to meet with your approval." 
 
 There was no resisting Aloes when he took that 
 tone, or when he brought out that ingenuous, con- 
 fiding, happy smile. Mrs. Nuttall awkwardly excused 
 herself and withdrew. The confederates looked at 
 each other and smiled. But the smile of each was 
 distinctive in its way. The Major's was that of a 
 happy child, Aloes' was subtle, Navarre's knowing. 
 
 "It's a clever old bird," said Henry, nodding to- 
 wards the cynic, "and swanks to perfection. It 
 wouldn't make a bad character actor if it could only 
 act as well on as it does off." 
 
 "That's the trouble with most of your professional 
 brethren. Still, we've managed Ma all right. Now', 
 Charles dear, forward ! Your duty is to tackle the 
 other lady." 
 
 "Don't you think I had better go?" suggested 
 Navarre. Already he was greatly interested in Miss 
 Pendleton, and he had a wholesome dread of Sarning 
 as ambassador. 
 
 "We admit, my dear Henry, that you have a way 
 with women, that is with educated women, women 
 of the better class women with the aesthetic sense. 
 But here we have a child of the people, one who 
 might not fully appreciate the artistic refinement in- 
 cidental to the higher nature. Therefore I think 
 Charles had better go." 
 
 The delicacy of the compliment was not lost on the 
 artist. A little he demurred, but just a little. Charles 
 went, and a most extraordinary interview he had with 
 the Derelict. Though he may not have discharged 
 his ambassadorial functions in a manner which would 
 have met with Mr. Navarre's entire approval, yet he
 
 PERSUASIVE ARGUMENT 105 
 
 was not without some tact in his own ingenuous 
 fashion. Betty was still recalcitrant, realizing also 
 something of the humour of the situation. Perhaps 
 a little of the Major's delicacy was lost on her : per- 
 haps it touched deeper than even he imagined. There 
 was no suggestion of "saving her." That would 
 have put her back up like a cat's, and she would have 
 died sooner than listen to him. But there was a 
 certain merit in his argument which appealed to her 
 innate good sense. She had admitted that her past 
 was one which she had no wish to live again. Well 
 then, here was a sort of chance. She was not bound 
 down. At all events it would give her time to 
 breathe, to look round. When she was tired, or 
 found existence irksome, she might go. He admitted 
 there was little they could offer, but that little was 
 hers for the taking. 
 
 "But I don't see it," she said, bewilderment making 
 a deep line between her brows. "I may be worse than 
 even you think. I may be a thief a jail-bird. But I 
 ain't," she added quickly, "I ain't come to that yet." 
 
 The Major nodded wisely. He knew there was 
 always a lower depth. 
 
 "We're not going to talk about anything of the 
 kind," he replied. "You're just going to look after 
 Alfred and Henry and me; and when you're tired of 
 the job all you've got to do is to say so." 
 
 "But I can't go on looking after you." 
 
 "I suppose not. Still, that's something to start 
 with, a sort of breather, you understand." 
 
 She looked up at him, a world of indecision in her 
 eyes. 
 
 "That's the trouble, sir. I don't understand." 
 
 "But you will," he said.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MRS. NUTTALL IS CONFIDENTIAL 
 
 SHE was given a room on the top landing opposite 
 the Major's. It was supposed to be furnished, 
 though the furniture consisted of nothing more than 
 a little black bed, a shabby washstand, and a strip 
 of oilcloth. Usually Ma Nuttall was content with 
 half-a-crown a week for this commodious apartment, 
 but, considering the circumstances, she believed her- 
 self fully justified in charging the confederates just 
 double that sum. A poor woman must live, and if 
 she had been induced to forego a little of her dignity, 
 and of that exclusiveness of which she was so justly 
 proud, some one ought to pay for it. 
 
 Betty sat on the little bed, her face in her hands, 
 and glared up through the dirty, curtainless window. 
 Just then the whole weight of the world seemed to 
 be pressing on her narrow shoulders. Never perhaps 
 in all her misery had she felt so deeply the intolerable 
 desolation of life, the unspeakable hopelessness of the 
 outlook. Why had she submitted to it ? Again and 
 again she asked herself the question, and each time 
 the spirit of revolt raised in her the determination to 
 go and be done with it. Bob Langford was bad 
 enough, God knows, but there were times even with 
 him when life had some gleams of sunshine. Bob 
 was frankly a brute, a bad man who would come to 
 
 106
 
 MRS. NUTTALL IS CONFIDENTIAL 107 
 
 a bad end; but there was in him a strain of rough 
 Bohemianism to which her own nature had at times 
 responded. Somehow she seemed to know just where 
 she was with Bob ; but now she was as one cast adrift 
 in the interminable desert of life, and the sense of 
 being utterly lost appalled her. 
 
 Sometimes she went to the window and looked out 
 across the blackened roofs and chimneys. The pros- 
 pect was not cheering, it was not a view conducive 
 to gaiety, but being one to which she had long grown 
 accustomed it did not unduly depress. It was but 
 the grim grimy background of a desolate and gloomy 
 life. Yet she was not so much thinking of what had 
 been as of what was to be. 
 
 "It's a rummy go," she murmured; "I wonder what 
 the devil it means. Three of 'em ! What do they 
 want me for what's the game? Him, the long 'un 
 the Major seems soft as butter. He's a crack- 
 pot of the first order. Major, good Lor' ! Salvation 
 Major, I should think. Yet he ain't quite their 
 style neither. Not a bloomin' ' glory be to Gawd ' 
 in all his ramblings. But he's mad, mad as a hatter. 
 Must be, or he wouldn't trust me as he does. Bob 
 never trusted anybody they don't trust much over 
 our side of the water. Rum thing being trusted. I 
 wonder if there are people who trust each other ? 
 Lor', mustn't they get done a bit ! " 
 
 The thought brought a smile to her face the first 
 that had been there for many weary hours. 
 
 "That other I'm not so sure of Alfred, they call 
 him. At first he was just what I expected to find. 
 He put my back up too I didn't want nothing from 
 him. In another sec. I would have been on my hind 
 legs. And then he changed. I wonder what his
 
 108 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 game is ! He's a hard-looking nut though, and has 
 a snotty way with him when he likes. Spoke to me 
 as if he was the beak and I was in the dock. Then 
 just when I thought he was going to say a month 
 without the option, he discharges me without a stain 
 on my character." Again a wan smile flitted over her 
 pallid face. "The other cove didn't say much, but 
 he looks fat and easy-going. I've seen lots like him. 
 Beer and girls ! " 
 
 Ma Nuttall, who entered at that moment with a 
 bundle of kindling wood in one hand and a shovel- 
 ful of coals in the other, found her standing by the 
 window. 
 
 "Admirin' the view?" she asked in a low sneering 
 tone. That she, a respectable married woman, should 
 carry up coals to such a creature was about the last 
 penalty imposed upon honest penury by demoniac 
 fate. 
 
 "Pretty, ain't it ! " answered Betty. 
 
 "Pretty is as pretty does," said Mrs. Nuttall 
 shortly. "I should think you would be glad of any 
 outlook for a chynge." 
 
 "I dunno," answered the girl, not a little nettled 
 by the tone of this ponderous slattern. 
 
 "Some people never know when they're well oph." 
 
 "I dunno about that either." 
 
 "Shouldn't ha' thought it." 
 
 Slowly Mrs. Nuttall descended to her knees before 
 the dirty grate, the action being accompanied by an 
 elephantine grunt. 
 
 "Don't bust yourself," said the girl. 
 
 Ma Nuttall was so taken aback by this unexpected 
 piece of impertinence that she found herself unable 
 to make fitting reply, and in extremis, as it were,
 
 MRS. NUTTALL IS CONFIDENTIAL 109 
 
 could do nothing better than gasp a "Well, I 
 never ! " 
 
 "Are you going to light the fire?" 
 "Such is the orders from your gentlemen friends," 
 was the dignified reply. "You 'aven't no objections, 
 I suppose? " 
 
 "No, I 'aven't no objections except to the grate." 
 " What's the matter with the grite ? " 
 "It mightn't hurt it if it was cleaned." 
 
 "Well, of all ! " muttered the good lady, and 
 
 there she stopped both for want of breath and words. 
 But she meant a great deal more than she said, and 
 Betty, who knew something of her class, easily sup- 
 plied the ellipsis. Taken the right way Miss Pendle- 
 ton had her weaknesses like the rest of us; but the 
 person who set out wilfully to affront her found him- 
 self facing an opponent of some temerity. One does 
 not struggle for existence in a London slum without 
 the wits being either sharpened or blunted. Hers 
 happened not to be blunted. 
 
 Ma Nuttall, on the other hand, being by nature a 
 bully, was not slow to recognize the worthiness of an 
 adversary. Moreover, having the commercial in- 
 stinct, she was not one to scout good coin of the 
 realm ; and already the five shillings in advance, duly 
 paid by Aloes, were jingling merrily in her purse. 
 Otherwise she would have seen Miss Pendleton to 
 that place of no returning where sinners are supposed 
 to be made uncomfortably hot through eternity. 
 
 "You ain't 'arf a cool 'un," she said, looking up 
 and wiping her nose with a smutty finger. 
 
 "When a thing has got to be done it may as well 
 be done properly." 
 
 Betty was not slow to see her advantage, or to seize
 
 110 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 it. Moreover, her spirit, depressed beyond endurance, 
 welcomed the glowing thought of battle. Nor did she 
 really care what happened, or whom she offended. 
 If to Ma Nuttall things had seemed awry, to Betty 
 they were a confused blur of sixes and sevens. She 
 had been as one wandering in unfamiliar places, and 
 this stout adversary had led her home. Once more 
 she stood in her own street. 
 
 But Ma Nuttall, instead of accepting the gage of 
 battle, proceeded to take an unfair advantage. 
 
 "I wonder you ain't ashamed to talk to me like 
 that me that's nearly old enough to be your mother." 
 
 The qualification was exceedingly feminine. Her 
 mirror may yet have told a flattering tale. Un- 
 doubtedly it was cracked. 
 
 "I'm sorry," said the girl, unarmed in a moment. 
 "Let me set that fire for you." 
 
 "If you wouldn't mind, dearie. I'm just run oph 
 me legs." 
 
 Betty was down on her knees in an instant, and 
 with deft fingers arranged the sticks and coals. With 
 a laborious effort Mrs. Nuttall rose from beside her, 
 and with a groan of content sat upon the little bed, 
 which creaked ominously beneath her weight. 
 
 "You wouldn't believe 'ow I 'ave to work to keep 
 a roof over me 'ead, an' bread in me children's 
 mouths. Not that Nuttall doesn't do 'is best I will 
 say that for 'im. But what's 'is best I should like 
 to know when a woman 'as a growin' fambly, an' 
 rent to find, an' taxes to p'y. No, I don't envy you 
 single women, no' not 'arf a tick. Come an' go just 
 as you like, an' nobody to arst questions. Not that 
 Nuttall's that particular; although," she added 
 quickly, "the man's 'orribly jealous. An' all because
 
 MRS. NUTTALL IS CONFIDENTIAL 111 
 
 I get on well with the fellows, an' keep me gentlemen 
 lodgers. But as I s'y to 'im, ' What would become 
 of you an' the fambly if I didn't?' But 'e's not 
 bad as men go. I suppose you know somethink about 
 them, dearie ? " 
 
 But dearie did not answer, although the tone was 
 so ingratiating, so friendly and confidential. Instead, 
 she applied herself still more assiduously to the fire, 
 which with the aid of much blowing was just be- 
 ginning to catch. Mrs. Nuttall watched the slender 
 stooping form, dull thoughts struggling slowly 
 through her dull brain. But even through the dullest 
 of brains there is always one thought which flashes 
 like lightning, and being a woman it was no stranger 
 to her. 
 
 "Farncy you being an old friend of theirs," she 
 continued in her oiliest of tones. "Of course, if 
 I'd known that at the beginning I never would 'ave 
 raised no objections. But 'ow was I to know, dearie, 
 that you wasn't no better than the rest of 'em? An' 
 your pore father the General dead, too, an' you with- 
 out no mother ! Mr. 'Allows is a 'ard gentleman to 
 git on with, though I don't think 'e means 'arf the 
 narsty things 'e says. Being a old betchelor 'e 
 naturally don't understand children. You wouldn't 
 believe 'ow 'e carries on sometimes when my little 
 Eckie is pl'ying on the stairs. But what I say is that 
 the child must pl'y somewhere especially when it's 
 too wet for 'im to go out in the street. An' you know 
 what it is to keep children quiet in the 'ouse. Not 
 that you, bein' unmarried, is likely to 'ave any; but 
 you never know your luck. An' they do 'ave a way 
 of coming when they're not wanted. No, Mr. 
 'Allows is 'ard, very 'ard. Just the opposite of Mr.
 
 112 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 Navarre, who's a reel gentleman, an' would give you 
 'arf of 'is larst 'arf-crown. Nothink stuck up about 
 Mr. Navarre, dearie an' 'e's earning good regular 
 money, too," she added in a confidential whisper. 
 
 The girl, kneeling before the fire, heard it all as 
 one hears the sound of something spoken in the 
 distance. She did not look up, but stared with great 
 gloomy eyes into the struggling flame. 
 
 "This coal is wet," she said; but she was thinking 
 it more than a trifle strange that Ma Nuttall had said 
 nothing of the third member of the confederacy, the 
 long gaunt man with the pathetic grey eyes. 
 
 "No, dearie, is it! Perhaps there is a leakage in 
 the cellar. I must get Nuttall to see about it not 
 that 'e's any good in a 'ouse. I never knew a man 
 less 'andy than Nuttall. 'E leaves me to do all the 
 'ammerin' an' nailin' up; an' what with the fambly 
 to look after I naturally git be'ind with things. But 
 that's just like Bill Nuttall : 'e means well, but e's 
 'opeless. But there, I can't tell you nothink about 
 men, can I, dearie?" 
 
 Though Betty would never dream of posing as a 
 victim to the finer sensibilities, she failed entirely 
 to appreciate the suave insinuations of Mrs. Nuttall ; 
 albeit that lady, believing her discourse approved and 
 to the point, continued to hold forth with unerring 
 inaccuracy. Yet singularly enough the girl made no 
 reply, though more than once the hot' retort bubbled 
 to her lips. Why she listened so patiently was a 
 source of wonder to herself, for she understood quite 
 well what the good lady was driving at. Of a truth 
 it seemed that all her courage had suddenly ebbed 
 away. Even her curiosity lay dormant under the 
 suggestion of her "father the General," for a certain
 
 MRS. NUTTALL IS CONFIDENTIAL 113 
 
 sense of honour would not permit her to ask questions 
 for fear of confounding her new friends. Probably 
 they had a reason, though she was not particularly 
 interested in it. She was as one who is caught up 
 without volition and whirled hither and thither in the 
 maelstrom of life. Fate had taken her by the hand, but 
 where it was leading her she neither knew nor cared. 
 
 And after all there was something exciting in the 
 situation, and this appealed to that love of adventure 
 which is in most of us. In a manner her mind was 
 curiously psychological, though she might have ex- 
 plained this quality in quite different terms. There 
 were probabilities, possibilities even, and these rapped 
 with some insistence on the gates of the future. 
 What lay on the other side of those gates troubled 
 her but little, though with true feminine curiosity 
 she did not scruple to peep through the keyhole. 
 
 In the meantime Mrs. Nuttall, having, as she be- 
 lieved, succeeded in lighting the fire, rose slowly and 
 ponderously to her feet. Evidently she was of 
 opinion that she really ought to take her departure, 
 though she betrayed some reluctance in the fulfilment 
 of duty. 
 
 "If there is anythink I can do for you, dearie," she 
 said, "I 'ope you won't forgit to tell me of it. 
 P'raps I am a bit unmindful at times; but, Lor' lum- 
 me, when a woman 'as the 'ole 'ouse on 'er shoulders, 
 an' a growing fambly to look after, an' a 'usband 
 that ain't worth 'is salt, she's got a chump of worry 
 on 'er mind I can tell you. Not that Nuttall 's as ftad 
 as 'e might be ; but you never know where you are 
 with men at least I never do. Of course you could 
 tell me a bit there, dearie, young as you are. That's 
 the worst of sticking to one man, though even if I 
 H
 
 114 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 was inclined to break away which I'm not I 
 couldn't do it for thinkin' of the fambly. No, I won't 
 'ave my little Eckie ashimed of 'is mother. But Nut- 
 tall is trying at times, an' don't seem more'n 'arf a 
 man onless 'e's in liquor. You wouldn't believe it, 
 dearie, but 'e never kisses me now onless 'e's pretty 
 well on. Then 'e's very loving, though 'is eyes get 
 that 'ot an' wicked that I'm quite afraid of 'im. An* 
 'e does say such silly things. But, of course, you 
 know what men are when they're like that. Dis- 
 gustin' 'ogs ! Sly, too, you take my word for it. 
 Oh, Nuttall's orlright, but I've 'ad to keep my eye 
 on 'im at times. There was a gal next door, sort of 
 general, who 'ad no more figger than what you've 
 got. Thin wasn't the word for it. I'd 'ave mide 
 three of 'er easy, an' then 'ave 'ad enough left to 
 mike a pad for each 'ip. Oh, nothink 'appened, of 
 course, though that wasn't 'er fault. As though 'e'd 
 look at a bit of skin an' bone when 'e 'ad me ! " 
 
 "Oh, for Gawd's sake clear out," said the girl. 
 It seemed as though the woman's tongue would run 
 on for ever. 
 
 "Sorry I'm intruding," she answered huffily. "No 
 doubt you're wanting to s'y your prayers ? Oh, don't 
 think I stay where I'm not wanted. I was only 
 'oping to do you a act of kindness. But that's the 
 way with some people. 'Old out a 'elping 'and and 
 they try to bite it." 
 
 It might be so. Betty did not condescend to reply. 
 The woman's rattling had brought her to the borders 
 of frenzy. A moment more and she would have 
 screamed. That Mrs. Nuttall was grossly offended 
 was shown by the way she slammed the door after 
 her, though this did not appear to cause the young
 
 MRS. NUTTALL IS CONFIDENTIAL 115 
 
 woman the least concern. She drew the rickety chair 
 near the fire, and in a dull mechanical way began to 
 warm her hands. Then, with elbows on knees and 
 chin in palms, she sat staring at the sputtering flame. 
 She tried to think, but thought did not flow easily : 
 the effort caused her temples to throb. She had not 
 been accustomed to think. Hitherto there had seemed 
 little worth thinking about. Things came and went, 
 the common things of life, and if to-day was good 
 she could only hope that to-morrow would be no 
 worse. But new, strange thoughts were now 
 struggling for birth at the back of her brain, and the 
 pangs of labour were infinite. 
 
 Yet this matter of the fire was one that touched 
 her keenly. It was a kind thought, and though she 
 wondered in which of the three brains it originated, 
 in her heart she had no doubt. It was just what he 
 would do, the strange gaunt fellow. The others she 
 seemed in a way to understand; but the soldier man 
 was a riddle. Hitherto her knowledge of soldiers 
 had not been such as to cast the spell of romance 
 over her imagination. But perhaps officers were 
 different. She had never met an officer before, and 
 even this one seemed a singularly queer specimen of 
 his class. 
 
 An hour or so later she heard a timid knock at the 
 door. Springing hastily to her feet she opened it and 
 encountered the smiling Major. 
 
 "Awfully sorry to disturb you," he said, "but I 
 was wondering if you would care to have dinner down- 
 stairs with us, or would you prefer to have it sent 
 here ? " For want of a better answer she replied that 
 she was not hungry. "Nevertheless, you must eat," 
 he continued affably : " that is one of the immutable 
 H 2
 
 116 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 laws of nature. Ah, I see you have a fire going. 
 Jolly cheerful it looks too. Happy thought that 
 Alfred. But then the beggar's full of happy 
 thoughts." 
 
 "Then it was his thought?" There was just a 
 touch of regret in her tone. 
 
 " He's a good chap is old Alfred : kind as a woman." 
 
 "Are women kind?" 
 
 She was thinking of Ma Nuttall, and one or two 
 other female acquaintances with whom she in no way 
 associated kindness. 
 
 "I hope so," he said. "If we do not get kindness 
 from women I cannot possibly conceive from whom 
 we are to get it. But I'm glad to see you looking so 
 cheerful. It's quite a nice room, and only requires 
 a few feminine touches to make it charming. By 
 George, you'll look as smart as paint in a day or t\vo. 
 Of course, I quite understand that you would prefer 
 to dine alone for the present. I'll see that your meals 
 are sent up. But, of course, you mustn't stick in here, 
 you know. You're not a prisoner. It's just a 
 shelter, Miss Pendleton, for as long as you like to 
 make use of it." 
 
 He smiled reassuringly at her with kind eyes, while 
 she was conscious of being able only to stare back 
 at him in a dull, stupid sort of fashion. Why she, 
 who had never been at loss for a reply, found herself 
 so impotent to make answer, was as great a mystery 
 as the fact that she had allowed herself to be drawn 
 so strangely into this singular situation. 
 
 "Poor little devil," he reported to Aloes, "she's 
 sitting up there before the fire like the brooding ghost 
 of a woman. I wonder who she really is, what she 
 is, where she comes from ? Lonely. I never saw
 
 MRS. NUTTALL IS CONFIDENTIAL 117 
 
 such a pathetic little figure in all my life. We must 
 do something for her, Alfred." 
 
 "Aren't we doing a good deal much more than 
 our common sense warrants? It's a mistake, my 
 dear Charles, but you wanted it." 
 
 "I wanted it, of course; but you didn't do it for 
 my sake ? " 
 
 "For whose, then? You don't suppose I did it for 
 hers ? What is she more than a thousand of her 
 kind?" 
 
 "But you're sorry for her, old boy?" 
 
 "Why should I be?" 
 
 "Because you have a heart, I suppose." 
 
 "Rubbish! I have nothing of the kind, and I 
 don't want one. People with a heart unwittingly 
 nourish the most insidious of enemies. This world 
 is no place for hearts, or any of that sentimental clap- 
 trap. Haven't you found, my dear son, that the 
 world's heart is a most unmitigated, cowardly snob ? 
 I spit on it as a disgrace to humanity. Call me idiot 
 if you will and I'll agree with you. Who but a pack 
 of bedlamites would do as we have done ? The girl 
 thinks she has found a good thing, and is clever 
 enough to make the most of it." 
 
 "But she seems deuced lonely," insisted the other. 
 
 "Of course they can all come the sympathetic 
 touch. It's natural to them : women are born with 
 that gift, and sharp enough to realize the value of 
 it. But what I want to know is, What are we going 
 to do with her? She can't stay on indefinitely." 
 
 "Oh, something '11 come along." 
 
 "Something we may not regard as a blessing. 
 She'll never be able to stick this sort of thing. Once 
 they've gone so far they can't return to the humdrum
 
 118 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 realities of labour. Probably she is already yearning 
 for Bob Langford and the pubs of Nine Elms." 
 
 "But you really don't think that, Alfred?" 
 
 "Why not? Courage and the love of gaiety will 
 carry a man or a woman far. Companionship is only 
 by comparison. What you think entertaining she 
 would most probably vote uncommonly dull. The 
 skilled operator may work marvels with the raw 
 material, but the recasting of the woven fabric usually 
 leaves much to be desired. We may repatch an old 
 garment, but we cannot make it pass for new." 
 
 "She's not so very old," replied the Major, taking 
 him literally. "Of course we don't want to force her 
 into anything, but it might give her a chance, you 
 know." 
 
 "To be good?" laughed Aloes. "How do you 
 know she wants to be good ? The little cat, she would 
 have scratched me in another minute. And then she's 
 so hopeless. She reeks of Vauxhall and the turmoil 
 of its traffic." 
 
 "And the soul of her ? " asked Sarning. 
 
 "Ah, the soul of her," echoed Aloes. "We shall 
 have trouble enough to save our own." 
 
 But all the same the picture of her, alone in that 
 dismal room up-stairs, was one which impressed itself 
 upon his brain. 
 
 "Poor little devil," he murmured, "poor little 
 devil." 
 
 He had no doubt whatever that he was a hopeless 
 imbecile.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 FURNISHING THE DERELICT 
 
 FOR more than a week Betty did not leave the 
 house, but in that time she worked wonders for the 
 comfort of the confederates, sweeping and dusting 
 their rooms, arranging things with feminine taste and 
 tact, and above all things, seeing that their meals 
 were served punctually and in a cleanly fashion. The 
 three men marvelled at her quick adaptability. After 
 the first day of gloom she came forth shining like the 
 sun through a foggy sky. Her hour of darkness had 
 passed. In the solitude of her miserable room she 
 had fought the devil and conquered. She would give 
 the new idea a chance. Whatever it might be, or 
 whatever might come of it, it promised infinitely more 
 than the old. And as with her there were no half 
 measures, she set to with a will, and the determination 
 to please. 
 
 Major Sarning beamed on her in his great childish 
 human fashion. She had justified his hopes and made 
 him exceedingly proud. Aloes was approving dignity 
 personified. It is true she still thought of him as 
 "the beak," yet never by word or look did he let her 
 know that even the suspicion of a doubt lurked in his 
 mind. As for Navarre, he was so delighted in having 
 a woman among his audience that he never failed to 
 
 act his best. Aloes would watch the good fellow with 
 
 119
 
 120 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 infinite amusement, note the rolling of the eye, the 
 careless, studied waving back of the thick hair so as 
 not really to disarrange it : mark the modulated tone 
 that was used in addressing her, and thoroughly 
 approve and enjoy the general conduct. Even Ma 
 Nuttall admitted that Betty was a great acquisition, 
 though she did not approve the glances Nuttall threw 
 in that direction, nor was she quite willing to agree 
 with him that she was a "nice gal." She knew of 
 Nuttall's weakness for "nice gals," without appreci- 
 ating it. But that any man should think a mere wisp 
 of a woman nice, one who had no more development 
 in bust or hips than a boy, exceeded her compre- 
 hension. 
 
 Of course she was still a little particular with the 
 creature, never forgetting the difference between a 
 respectable married woman and a human derelict. 
 Yet the feeling was not so strong as to prevent her 
 occasionally leaving the children in Betty's charge 
 while she went round the corner to do a little "shop- 
 ping," which "shopping" also necessitated the visit 
 to an adjacent public-house. But the girl did not 
 seem to resent the manner. Just then nothing 
 mattered as long as she was pleasing the "gentlemen 
 up-stairs," and that she was pleasing them she had 
 every reason to believe. 
 
 "She's ripping," cried Navarre in an outburst of 
 enthusiasm. "Socks darned, buttons sewn on, boots 
 polished till you can see your face in them. B' George, 
 she makes one forget the loss of one's vally. Glorious 
 eyes, too ! How they would shine across the foot- 
 lights ! I think I'd better train her for the stage. 
 She's just the cut for musical com. How long d'you 
 think it would take to teach her English ? "
 
 FURNISHING THE DERELICT 121 
 
 "I've known many who couldn't be taught in a 
 lifetime," said Aloes. "But what do you mean for 
 the stage ? " 
 "Of course." 
 " Is it necessary ? " 
 "We actors think so." 
 "Singular delusion." 
 
 "I don't think I should like her to go on the stage," 
 said the Major. 
 
 "It's not what you like, my dear fellow, but what 
 is best for her." 
 
 "That might not be best. The life has so many 
 temptations." 
 
 Navarre started on a loud laugh, but it ended some- 
 what abruptly as he turned from one serious face to 
 the other. 
 
 "Oh, come now, isn't that a bit what! Would 
 you rather keep her cleaning boots and washing 
 dishes? That doesn't seem to me to be much of a 
 life to look forward to. B' George, she might have 
 London at her feet in a twelvemonth." 
 
 "It is so easy to bring London to your feet," 
 remarked Aloes. 
 
 "Not in the legitimate, I grant you; but in musical 
 com. the case is different. I've known girls who could 
 neither sing, dance, nor act do it by the aid of a pretty 
 face and the photographer. I think she'd make up 
 ripping. Her hair is really wonderful, and her eyes 
 would paralyze the stalls. You chaps have no idea of 
 the effect of a pair of eyes across the footlights." With 
 a superb effort he rolled his own protruders in con- 
 firmation of the argument. " I wonder if she can 
 sing?" 
 
 No one could answer, for no one had heard her
 
 122 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 sing. Perhaps all in good time, but as yet the bird 
 had not grown accustomed to the cage. 
 
 "I thought you said that wasn't necessary," sug- 
 gested Aloes. 
 
 "Not singin' in the grand style, of course. All that 
 is required is a bit of a voice that is not positively 
 offensive, a movement or two not absolutely lacking 
 in grace, and " here he winked rather knowingly 
 "the personal interest of some one at court." 
 
 " It sounds easy enough," said the Major, seriously 
 stroking his moustache. 
 
 "All except the last contingency. Still, the whole 
 thing is not quite so easy as it sounds. You'd be 
 surprised how graceless a graceful woman can be 
 when she treads the boards. I think we ought to 
 begin Betty's education at once. You, Alfred, shall 
 teach her the niceties of the language : I'll show her 
 how to act." 
 
 "Will you?" said Alfred. 
 
 But there was much to be done, both physically 
 and mentally, in the way of furnishing the Derelict, 
 nor just then did language or deportment seem the 
 first essential. Man or woman but ill represents the 
 dignity of humanity in shabby clothes, shapeless 
 boots and a rusty hat, and Betty's wardrobe sadly 
 needed replenishing. By the end of a week they had 
 scraped up a sovereign between them, and this the 
 Major laid before her with no little trepidation. The 
 faintest suspicion of a flush passed over her face as 
 she saw the gold piece glittering at her from the 
 table, and her eyes and tongue spoke together. 
 
 "What's this?" 
 
 "The labourer is worthy of his hire," he explained 
 rather timidly. "We would like you to accept this as
 
 FURNISHING THE DERELICT 123 
 
 something on account. Not that it by any means 
 represents your value," he added quickly; "that is 
 incalculable. We've been in clover since you took 
 over the management of affairs. By Jove, we don't 
 know how to find ourselves. Henry swears he has 
 never had such a polish on his boots since he lost his 
 man, while Alfred searches his room in vain for a 
 speck of dust. You ought to have seen us under 
 Ma Nuttall. Never a thing in its place, dirt every- 
 where, meals at all hours, and joints spoilt in the 
 cooking. We can never be grateful enough to you, 
 Betty. You've made new men of us." 
 
 "What am I to do with this ? " She pointed at the 
 money. 
 
 "Just whatever you please. If you think you want 
 a new dress, buy it," he added loftily, as though that 
 one pound had suddenly split itself into a thousand. 
 "Perhaps it's boots? then buy 'em. Or what do 
 you say to a new hat ? Of course a girl must smarten 
 herself up a bit when she goes out. Well, my dear 
 child, we want you to go out more. Fresh air is as 
 essential as fresh food, and you've been sticking a bit 
 too close to the house. The Firm also requests me to 
 state that you are not to undertake the labours of 
 Hercules, which incidentally comprise the work of Ma 
 Nuttall. That ample lady seems to be taking with 
 some regularity the fresh air cure. We have no doubt 
 that she will take it still more regularly if you permit 
 her." 
 
 "Oh, I don't want to go out," said the girl, but 
 she did not tell him why. 
 
 "The Firm insists," he replied. "Mere selfishness 
 on its part, of course ; but knowing the value of your 
 services it wishes to retain them."
 
 124 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Then they are satisfied with me?" she ventured. 
 
 "More than satisfied : they are delighted." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 "Me ! " He seemed amazed at the question. 
 
 " You are not sorry ? " 
 
 "Only that I cannot reward you as you deserve. 
 But perhaps better times are coming. Things have 
 a way of brightening up, you know. My solicitor tells 
 me that my tenantry in Ireland are beginning to show 
 some signs of remorse; though I have observed that 
 signs of remorse are not the best of food for getting 
 fat on. Still, one must hope." 
 
 "One cannot get very fat on that either," she said. 
 
 "True." 
 
 Judging from the far-away look in his eyes he 
 had suddenly, in that other and greater hope of which 
 she knew nothing, forgotten her and his tenantry. 
 Yet with her sharp feminine instinct she was quick to 
 read, and she tried to pierce the distance into which 
 his thoughts had travelled. 
 
 She was truly grateful for the delicate consideration 
 with which she was treated. They might have plagued 
 her with so many questions : yet they asked none. As 
 a friend she had been received, as a friend she had 
 been treated. Nothing that could remind her of the 
 past was ever hinted at. Sometimes she came down to 
 Aloes' room of an evening and sat while he and 
 Sarning talked of most things beneath the sun. 
 Navarre, of course, was away at the theatre, acting 
 his great part, "well down centre." Of the three she 
 probably liked him least. He had a way of looking 
 at her, a flippancy of manner which instinctively 
 reminded her of the days she had no wish to 
 remember. The gallant fellow probably meant
 
 FURNISHING THE DERELICT 125 
 
 nothing by it. It was his way with women, nothing 
 more. To say funny things, to be for ever shining 
 like a star in the society of women, was his predominat- 
 ing weakness; and in his endeavours to be brilliant 
 he occasionally trespassed upon the domains of 
 audacity. 
 
 But with the others it was different. They were 
 two sober-sided old fellows who talked interminably 
 of things she did not understand, of things which did 
 not seem to count in the great rushing drama of life. 
 Yet at times they also talked at her with a purpose, a 
 purpose which was purely educational, and insensibly 
 she began to profit by it. Slowly it dawned upon her 
 intelligence that this was the way gentlemen talked, 
 and though at first she experienced all the difficulty 
 of one struggling with a foreign language, by degrees 
 she grew accustomed to their tone and manner, and 
 unconsciously began to imitate it. What struck her 
 at first as being particularly strange in their conver- 
 sation was the utter absence of oaths. Hitherto she 
 had not believed that either man or woman could be 
 emphatic without swearing. Bob Langford and her 
 other associates had not found it easy. It was an oath 
 and a blow with Bob and his friends, the oath usually 
 the more terrific of the two. But these new friends 
 used an entirely new language, one which captivated, 
 as it were, by its mere insidiousness. Phrases 
 rumbled through her brain and found themselves trip- 
 ping on her tongue, just as the lilt of a song haunts 
 the memory to the confounding of all else. The charm 
 of this manner of speaking appealed to her, opened up 
 a veritable new world : recalled vividly that smatter- 
 ing of education which indiscriminately had been 
 flung at her in her childhood.
 
 126 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 It was really delightful to hear Aloes discourse on 
 the use, the abuse, and the mysteries of the eighth 
 letter of the alphabet. Though a conspiracy between 
 him and Sarning, concocted for the particular pur- 
 pose of impressing their listener, it was all so deli- 
 cately done as to be worthy of the highest approba- 
 tion. Numerous were Aloes' examples, carefully 
 chosen and as carefully explained, impersonally 
 argued, impersonally demonstrated, the listener never 
 dreaming that it was not a genuine discussion. 
 
 Almost insensibly the lesson sank into her brain : 
 she felt herself mentally grasping things of which, 
 hitherto, she had been sublimely oblivious. But the 
 breaking of bad habits long acquired is no easy task, 
 and Betty, conscious of her inaccuracies of speech, 
 preserved at times a silence which caused the con- 
 federates much uneasiness. 
 
 "Teach me," she one day said to the Major. 
 
 "Teach you what, Betty?" 
 
 "Grammar. I want to speak like you and Mr. 
 Aloes." 
 
 "Alfred's a nailer at grammar," he replied enthusi- 
 astically. "I'm an awful rotter at it." 
 
 " I want to be such a rotter. Will you teach me ? " 
 
 "I'll do my best, Betty, and trust I may be of some 
 service." 
 
 "You know enough for me." 
 
 The Firm admitted that there was some hope in the 
 fact that she wished to learn. 
 
 "All the same," said Henry, "I'll tell you chaps 
 what it is, you're entirely spoiling that girl's char- 
 acter with your rotten ideas of education. What the 
 deuce does it matter whether she drops her h's or 
 picks 'em up? A letter isn't going to make a man
 
 FURNISHING THE DERELICT 127 
 
 or a woman. Here we have character, a personality 
 interesting and full of promise, and you want to make 
 her as prim and foolish as any lower middle-class 
 miss. And you're not wise enough to see that you'll 
 go blind before you do it. It's not her way, it's not 
 her groove of thought. You can't run a locomotive 
 on the highroad, or a motor-car on rails. Nine Elms 
 is not Mayfair. There's a good deal more between 
 them than the Thames." 
 
 "Who'd have thought it ! " said Aloes. 
 
 "My dear Alfred, we know that The Philosophy 
 of a Savage is going to be the book of the century ; 
 we know that it will knock all other philosophies into 
 a cocked hat, turn all other philosophers green and 
 yellow with envy. But we also know that philo- 
 sophers, as a rule, are much too superior to note the 
 common occurrences of everyday life. You've got to 
 watch the effect on the audience, not tell them to 
 watch you. If you get an unexpected ' laugh ' here 
 or there you naturally repeat the line. If the joke 
 falls flat you cut it out. If you fall flat you get ' the 
 bird.' And after all, it isn't for you to say what is 
 right, wrong, good or bad." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Come, I like that! You talk about 'mummers' 
 vanity,' but what price your own? You writing 
 chaps are a thousand times vainer." 
 
 "And with a thousand times more cause." 
 
 "Very well, so long as you're satisfied; but philo- 
 sophy won't teach a chap to rear chickens. I think 
 you're spoiling the girl. She'll soon be as prim and 
 uninteresting as a Sunday-school teacher." 
 
 "That would be a great revolution," said the Major 
 solemnly.
 
 128 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "It would be a devilish silly thing. Her greatest 
 charm at present is her undoubted personality. Rob 
 her of that and where is she ? " 
 
 "My son," said Aloes in his most paternal manner, 
 "on all matters pertaining to art and the drama we 
 bow to your superior knowledge; but this is a matter 
 which we are not inclined to regulate in accordance 
 with the traditions of the theatre. Education is the 
 first step to self-respect. Those who have it, and 
 nothing else, are at times inclined to over-estimate its 
 value. Yet it's really not such a bad thing to possess 
 as you seem to imagine, though it is not all that some 
 would have us believe. If we can give Betty an 
 inkling of better things than she has been accustomed 
 to, the probabilities are that we shall make a better 
 woman of her." Navarre smiled. "Well, perhaps 
 it does sound a bit priggish to talk like that, but that 
 is the one great drawback of virtue : it does look so 
 absurd. Nevertheless there are degrees of better 
 women, eh ? Our own mother, for example, our own 
 sister, or our wife if we have one. This girl hasn't 
 had a chance. What if we try to give her one ? " 
 
 "Oh, I'm for giving her all the chances in the 
 world, old boy. Only it does seem devilish funny." 
 
 "That we should undertake the task? Yes, I'm 
 afraid we're a sad trio of blackguards. Hence the 
 humour and interest of the situation." 
 
 "And all to no purpose. The old life will call, and 
 she won't be able to resist." 
 
 "You think so?" asked the Major, much perturbed. 
 
 "My dear fellow, what else can happen? I hope 
 I'm wrong. But they always find their way back. 
 It is in his old haunts that the police wait for the 
 hunted criminal."
 
 FURNISHING THE DERELICT 129 
 
 "But," insisted the Major, "if a repugnance to the 
 past can be instilled ? " 
 
 "What emotion can last?" 
 
 "But if I know it better that I should not do a 
 thing?" 
 
 "If it is pleasant you will still go on doing it. Do 
 you suppose there is a drunkard living who does not 
 know it would be better for him if he were to give up 
 drink?" 
 
 "Still, you approve the endeavour?" insisted the 
 soldier. 
 
 "Admirable. But the furnishing of the Derelict, 
 as Alfred calls it, is likely to prove a more difficult 
 business than you imagine." 
 
 Nevertheless the furnishing went on apace. Per- 
 haps they found more empty rooms than they had 
 bargained for, while their success in choosing the 
 furniture may not have been always unqualified; but 
 they had much patience, and a greater hope. Nor was 
 it the providing of mental furniture only that caused 
 them serious thought. Betty's wardrobe consisted of 
 what she stood up in, and there was not much of that. 
 Yet it was wonderful what bargains they picked up 
 in the shape of feminine attire. The Major literally 
 haunted the second-hand shops : at some time or other 
 his long nose might have been seen glued to every 
 likely window from Westminster to Wardour Street. 
 He made scores of mental purchases. There was 
 one diamond ring in a pawn-shop in the W T ilton Road 
 which held a peculiar attraction for him. Its price 
 was only 22, but what did that matter to the gallant 
 fellow ? He was running up bills for hundreds before 
 he knew what was happening. That too was a matter 
 of little moment, and the process was so easy. Also
 
 130 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 there was a tortoise-shell hair-comb studded with 
 large turquoises which he greatly admired. He 
 thought it would look well in Betty's hair, and women 
 liked these toys. It would have been a great joy to 
 him to give women what they wanted. An expensive 
 hobby, no doubt : yet when one only paid mentally 
 one could indulge the weakness. It was hard that all 
 women could not be served alike in these things. 
 When he saw the poor girls with their strings of 
 many-coloured beads, rows of sham pearls and the 
 like, he longed for millions so that he could indulge 
 their whims. It entertained him vastly to stand before 
 a jeweller's window and hear the women gasp their 
 admiration. To his thinking they were more beautiful 
 and wonderful than any of the jewels : some of them 
 had complexions that would shame the most delicate 
 of pink-tinted pearls. What were the gems within 
 to those without? Did one want diamonds what 
 diamonds so bright as their eyes ? Their lips shamed 
 the corals in sheer beauty of colour : the gold of their 
 hair made the gold within look pale and dead. Ivory 
 was a dull substance in comparison with the trans- 
 parence of their skins. Look for beauty in a jewel- 
 ler's shop, forsooth ! He saw it at every step as he 
 passed along the drab grey streets. That it was no 
 more for him than the jewels in the window mattered 
 nothing. The sun was not his either, yet it warmed 
 and cheered him.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 BY THE RIVER 
 
 BETTY, in the meantime, contrived to make herself 
 indispensable. It was strange, but the confederates, 
 who of necessity had done all things for themselves, 
 now felt entirely lost without the aid of her willing 
 hands, her ready intelligence. She had smartened 
 herself up considerably, and in her clean print morn- 
 ing gown seemed to eyes accustomed to Ma Nuttall 
 a vision of cool, soothing, entrancing beauty. Also 
 that wonderful hair of hers had been duly washed, 
 but though she strove her hardest to brush it to sub- 
 jection there was always a rebellious strand or two 
 which defied her. With usage her manner had also 
 grown more composed : her determination to conquer 
 the sharper asperities of her accent had met with 
 considerable success. 
 
 "There is some intelligence there, combined with 
 no little will power," remarked Aloes. "And she 
 means business." 
 
 "Just think of it," said the Major in his dreamy, 
 speculative fashion. "Here is a poor little devil who, 
 never having had any of the advantages of life, 
 seizes any and every straw which may float her on- 
 ward to prosperity; while others of us I mean some 
 people born to every advantage, fling it away as 
 a thing of no worth." 
 
 i 2 131
 
 132 A SAINT IN- MUFTI 
 
 "And people still talk of the justice of Heaven," 
 scoffed Navarre. 
 
 Said Aloes : "People are fond of talking about that 
 of which they know nothing." 
 
 "I quite agree with you, old son," replied the actor, 
 who never dreamt of applying the remark personally. 
 "I have known people who have never been behind 
 the scenes talk about the stage in the most ridiculous 
 fashion." 
 
 "People who have never been ' behind the scenes ' 
 always talk ridiculously." 
 
 Henry nodded wisely. It was not often he found 
 Alfred so amenable to reason. 
 
 That the girl had a wonderful will power none of 
 them could deny. 
 
 "Such a little bit of a woman as it is too," said 
 Aloes. "Who would think that in so frail a body 
 lurked so much determination ? " 
 
 "Trust me," interposed Navarre, "for on this sub- 
 ject I know something more than a bit. It is in your 
 little woman that you will find the lion's spirit. It 
 is nature's apology for skimping the physical pro- 
 portions. Of all the women I've well, of all my 
 numerous female acquaintances, I have invariably 
 found the little woman go farthest of them all. And 
 when she's ginger, like Betty, she's got the pluck of 
 forty. My word ! " 
 
 "I wish she would go out, though," said Sarning. 
 "This sticking indoors can't be good for her. She 
 hasn't been outside the house since she came to us." 
 
 "That is queer," admitted Navarre, "for if there 
 is one thing your ordinary woman loves it is to gad 
 about and be seen. A woman who is not always 
 wanting to be seen is an anomaly. That is why so
 
 BY THE RIVER 133 
 
 many of them go on the stage. Not that they're 
 always seen there; but as they think they are it 
 amounts to the same thing." 
 
 "We can't all be ' well down centre,' " said Aloes. 
 
 This "sticking indoors," as he called it, caused 
 the Major much concern. He thought that in spite 
 of Betty's generally improved appearance there was 
 a certain wistfulness in her manner entirely due to a 
 lack of fresh air; and consequently one night he 
 suggested that she should go out for a walk with 
 him. At first she demurred, but as he insisted she 
 ultimately consented. 
 
 His first suggestion was the populous and lighted 
 streets round Victoria, thinking that the gaiety and 
 bustle might cheer her; but to this she returned a 
 determined refusal, declaring that she had had enough 
 of the streets to last her a lifetime. He did not 
 insist. He was entirely at her service, and eventually 
 they found themselves on the Grosvenor Road Em- 
 bankment. A cold wind blew up from the black 
 water, which touched the Major sharply ; for, of 
 course, as usual, he had forgotten, or disdained, to 
 wear his overcoat. She, however, drew in the keen 
 air as though it were some life-giving elixir. 
 
 For a moment or so they rested against the massive 
 stone parapet and gazed away over the dark stretch 
 of water, on the other side of which flared the lights 
 of Nine Elms. 
 
 "He's over there," she said presently. 
 
 "He?" 
 
 "Bob Langford. Not far off, is it?" 
 
 "It's the width of the Thames," he said. 
 
 "I wish it was the Atlantic Ocean." 
 
 "But you're not afraid of him now?"
 
 134 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "I dunno." 
 
 "Then you mustn't be." 
 
 She sighed. "Do you know, this is the spot I'd 
 fixed on in my mind that night. I was going to 
 come up here an' slip over quietly. Oh, I'd looked 
 at it a dozen times or more : marked the spot, an' 
 knew that I should come to it at last. Just the place 
 for slipping over, an' no one to see you. There's 
 a pleeceman on point duty by that pub; but when 
 the wind's blowing up sharp from the river he doesn't 
 trouble much about a few of our sort. Small blame 
 to him." 
 
 "But you wouldn't have done it, Betty?" 
 
 "Yes, I would have done it," she answered simply. 
 
 "Was it really as bad as that?" 
 
 "You don't know how bad it was." 
 
 "Well, I've often thought of it myself, but I never 
 had the pluck." 
 
 "It's despair," she said: "that may be pluck. I 
 dunno. But have you been so low down too ? " 
 
 "Yes, I've been pretty bad at times," he admitted. 
 
 For a little while neither of them spoke. Then she 
 asked suddenly 
 
 "What do the others think of me?" 
 
 "Surely we have tried to show our appreciation ? " 
 
 "Yes, I know. But what do they think?" she 
 insisted. 
 
 "That you are a brave little woman, Betty, and that 
 your coming was the greatest stroke of good luck for 
 us all. We call you our mascotte, our luck-bringer. 
 Alfred's done wonders since you came among us. 
 His articles are going off like hot cakes : the cheques 
 are simply rolling in. He'll have to open a banking 
 account if he's not more careful. Henry is re-
 
 BY THE RIVER 135 
 
 engaged for the next autumn drama at the Lane, he'll 
 probably get in the panto, and there are also chances 
 of a good part for him on tour. I tell you, things 
 are looking up." 
 
 "And you ? " she asked. 
 
 "Well, you see, I'm not clever like Alfred, but 
 even I have been picking up more than the usual. 
 And my Irish prospects are brightening." 
 
 "You are very fond of Mr. Aloes?" 
 
 "He's a good fellow," admitted the Major: "a bit 
 eccentric at times, but real good through and through." 
 
 "I didn't much care for him at first." 
 
 "But now?" 
 
 "I think he is very kind." 
 
 "The kindest old chap in the world. You'd be 
 surprised if I were to give you a few instances of his 
 friendship." 
 
 "Perhaps not. And Mr. Navarre?" 
 
 "Oh, Henry's all right. Between you and me, he 
 isn't quite Alfred; but he's a most good-hearted, 
 amusing fellow', don't you think ? " 
 
 "Yes," she said, but there was not much enthu- 
 siasm in the reply. "He asked me yesterday if I ever 
 thought of the stage." 
 
 "Did he! I don't think Alfred would quite like 
 that." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Oh, I dunno. He's rather a rum sort of chap in 
 some things, is old Alfred." 
 
 "Do you like it?" 
 
 "What the idea?" She nodded up at him 
 through the darkness, but as he was looking away 
 across the river, apparently preoccupied, he may not 
 have noticed the hesitation in her voice.
 
 136 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Yes. Mr. Navarre says there is a lot of money to 
 be made if a girl is clever, an' " 
 
 "And what?" 
 
 "Pretty." 
 
 "Ah! "said the Major. 
 
 He was not quite sure if he appreciated all this. 
 Now if Alfred had suggested the stage as a profes- 
 sion he might have approved the idea, but coming 
 from the Actor Man he was at once dimly conscious 
 of an innate antagonism. Henry had his good points, 
 of course, but a strict regard for certain observances 
 was not one of them. One could not always jeer at 
 the serious side of life without ultimately paying the 
 penalty. Navarre professed to treat most serious 
 matters as a joke, and perhaps he was not far wrong, 
 only the Major could never be brought to see with 
 his eyes. And this in its way was not a little curious, 
 for when one is flaunted by fortune at every turn 
 there must be some wonderful restraining influence, 
 apart from sheer idiocy, which prevents one from 
 paying back in kind. 
 
 They walked along in silence for a little while until 
 Betty suddenly caught him by the arm and drew him 
 across the road. The why or wherefore of this action 
 seemed inexplicable to him; but it being quite im- 
 material on which side of the road he walked, he 
 followed her without question or demur. Presently 
 she looked up at him and asked 
 
 " Did you see that man ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "That was him." 
 
 "Him?" 
 
 "Bob Langford." 
 
 He now noticed that her voice was shaking, and
 
 BY THE RIVER 137 
 
 that she drew closer to him as if to walk in his 
 shadow. 
 
 "Did he see you?" 
 
 "He was with a woman. He don't take long to 
 console himself." She laughed bitterly. The Major 
 wondered that she should laugh at all. 
 
 "Ah well, we needn't trouble about him any more." 
 
 "The swine!" 
 
 Major Sarning wondered how much he really knew 
 about women after all. 
 
 "Are you sure ? " he asked. 
 
 "That it was him? Think I don't know him 
 think I wouldn't know him in a thousand! " 
 
 "Well, you don't care now?" 
 
 "Care! I wouldn't spit on him. But he'll work 
 her for all she's worth. He's one of that sort. 
 Money, no matter how it comes. If I was a man I'd 
 smash his jaw." 
 
 Poor Charles was inconceivably pained to hear her 
 speak in this manner. Was Henry right after all in 
 his contention that the attempt to civilize a savage 
 was a mere waste of time and energy ? The thought 
 that such uncouth vehemence should come from so 
 frail a body was like receiving a blow from a friend. 
 Also it gave birth to other thoughts which he had 
 striven nobly to put away. He had wished to be- 
 lieve, and it is hard to find the object of our belief 
 doing its best to destroy our illusions. 
 
 " Would you like to go home ? " he asked, as they 
 once more turned their faces eastward. 
 
 "No, no, don't let us go in yet. Unless you are 
 tired ? " she added quickly. 
 
 "Oh, I'm an old campaigner of the pavements. 
 I'd like to have the price of all the leather I've worn
 
 138 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 out tramping up and down." In a vague sort of way 
 he seemed to think the call for a joke imperative. 
 
 "We'll get out of this, though," she said. "I 
 don't want to meet him. Wish to Gawd I'd never 
 set eyes on him ! " 
 
 " Is that true, Betty ? " 
 
 "Gawspel, I give you my word." 
 
 "Well then, we don't care for a dozen Bob Lang- 
 fords, though to tell you the truth I shouldn't object 
 to a little quiet talk with him." 
 
 "You!" 
 
 He winced slightly, for though she may not have 
 meant it, there was a certain tone of contempt in her 
 voice which stung sharply. 
 
 "You think he might hurt me, eh?" 
 
 She had not a doubt of it. Bob Langford was a 
 personage who commanded respect among the deni- 
 zens of Nine Elms, a people who respected little and 
 feared less. 
 
 "He's a bad man," she admitted, as though by 
 way of explanation or apology. 
 
 They entered St. George's Square and perambu- 
 lated its dismal length. 
 
 "This will do," she said, evidently consoled by 
 the cheerless outlook. 
 
 Many times they walked round the Square, the 
 Major discoursing philosophically on the vagaries of 
 life, though every time they reached the river end 
 of their promenade his companion flung apprehensive 
 glances across the roadway. Here and there a loiter- 
 ing couple was observed, but they were no further 
 troubled by the appearance of Mr. Langford. The 
 Major now understood the reason of Betty's appar- 
 ently perverse resolve to stay within doors, and
 
 BY THE RIVER 139 
 
 something very like anger against the cause of it 
 burned in him. This was a situation which no man 
 who was free to come and go could tolerate. That a 
 defenceless woman should be subjected to it roused 
 a righteous indignation. 
 
 He lit his old briar pipe and puffed away in solemn 
 meditation. The girl by his side had also grown 
 uncommonly silent. It seemed as though they had 
 nothing to say to each other, or that each was afraid 
 to set the conversation flowing afresh. Yet that 
 which was uppermost in their minds was not an 
 attractive, if a curious, subject ; and of a truth the girl 
 had suddenly a great wish to cast it all aside, to 
 fling it far from her, to sink it over there in the mud 
 of the river. And truly he was a strange man, this 
 long gaunt fellow, the like of whom she had never 
 met before. Never the suspicion of a compliment left 
 his lips, never a breath of flattery. And because she 
 was a woman she yearned secretly for these things. 
 
 Though in a generous manner he had bestowed 
 his approbation on the way in which she performed 
 her household duties, he had apparently failed to 
 notice the extra attention she had given to him and 
 his shabby room. Dust flew before her touch. She 
 took down his dirty curtains and washed and ironed 
 them herself : even the windows were cleaned. A 
 hundred little feminine touches added a strange and 
 pleasant charm to his unattractive chamber. He 
 could even linger in it at times with a feeling which 
 almost amounted to satisfaction. It is true she 
 appeared to look after Aloes and Henry with the same 
 fastidious care. But she knew there was a difference, 
 and it seemed strange to her that he should not 
 observe it.
 
 140 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 For perhaps an hour longer they continued their 
 promenade, and though at times she found it diffi- 
 cult to follow him in all his ramifications, yet she was 
 fully conscious of a mysterious enjoyment. As for 
 him, finding a ready listener the good fellow was not 
 sparing of his knowledge, real or imaginary. At all 
 events here was one who could not contradict, and it 
 was not often such a splendid opportunity came his 
 way. Yet it must be admitted that all he said was 
 with the best and kindest of motives; with the sole 
 intention, in short, of lifting the trend of her thought 
 into a newer and better groove. There were more 
 charming spots in the world than Nine Elms, though 
 it sounded so rural, a community infinitely more 
 interesting than its railway men and wharf labourers, 
 and these he strove to show her by means of illu- 
 minating word-pictures. Things of which hitherto 
 she had but a vague knowledge gradually assumed 
 realistic and imposing proportions, and she began 
 dimly to perceive the thousand and one interests 
 which appealed to the higher intelligence. 
 
 Nor was that first walk by any means their last, 
 though they tacitly seemed to refrain from patronizing 
 the Embankment, or the dreary waste of St. George's 
 Square. Little by little Betty's nervousness seemed 
 to wear off. She no longer eschewed the lighted 
 thoroughfares, and as a fact took to walking out of 
 an afternoon when her work was done. Ma Nuttall, 
 it is true, did not altogether approve of this, as it 
 curtailed somewhat her opportunities for indulging 
 a sudden predilection for fresh air, and the chance 
 of doing a little "shopping." Again and again she 
 declared to Nuttall that no good ever came of girls 
 gallivanting about the streets, and she would be
 
 BY THE RIVER 141 
 
 much mistaken if the gentlemen up-stairs would not 
 presently regret the freedom they allowed this young 
 woman. 
 
 Bill Nuttall shook a ponderous head. He was a 
 heavy, lumpy, young-old man ; young, that is, in 
 years, yet old in days of labour and domestic W 7 orry. 
 But being a man he still preserved an eye for woman, 
 though he had none at all for the woman who was his 
 wife. It is a singular commentary on matrimony 
 that most women appeal to a man, with the solitary 
 exception of his wife. To Bill this young woman 
 possessed a mysterious charm which imposed on him 
 a singular reticence when speaking of her. "Girl's 
 orlright," he would growl in response to his wife's 
 extreme solicitude. "She doesn't 'arf know when 
 she's well oph, not 'arf." And the good wife, looking 
 closely, wondered when her William had tapped this 
 surprising spring of charity. Moreover, he now 
 shaved twice a week, which was a ridiculous expendi- 
 ture of good coin, and washed his face of an evening. 
 Once she had caught him trimming his moustache 
 with a pair of blunt scissors, and swearing con- 
 sumedly. Bill's moustache usually hung low like 
 that of a walrus, and caught a little of everything 
 that reached his mouth; but now, if you please, he 
 was beginning to turn it back, and once or twice there 
 was something more than a suspicion of yellow soap 
 or. the ends. 
 
 "My word, Nuttall," she said, "you're gettin' a 
 reg'lar torf." 
 
 Bill blushed like any bread-and-butter miss, and 
 then gruffly told her to mind her own damned busi- 
 ness. As he showed the wicked white of his eye she 
 obeyed; for though hitherto he had been the most
 
 142 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 placid and amiable Jump of humanity imaginable, he 
 had of late beerf subject to singular fits of irritation. 
 Even little Eckienvas cufikf^on the slightest provoca- 
 tion, while ^iC'Tiad been known to pass uncomplimen- 
 tary remarks on the appearance and manners of Ann 
 Emma. Had drink been the cause his wife would 
 have accepted the situation as a matter of course ; 
 but as drink was plainly not the cause she wondered 
 if he was ailing. Certainly he never looked better in 
 his life, or cleaner; though she had heard of people 
 growing cleaner in their habits as they approached 
 the end. If that were so, she at any rate was a long 
 way from the grave.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 MR. BOB LANGFORD 
 
 RETURNING one day from a fruitless endeavour to 
 raise the wind, Charles Sarning, looking up from the 
 pavement where he had failed to discover the glint 
 of a forgotten coin, suddenly observed a figure which 
 struck him as being decidedly familiar. A closer 
 scrutiny assured him that it belonged to Betty, 
 though he was not acquainted with the outline of the 
 man who walked beside her. A certain feeling of 
 delicacy suddenly sweeping in upon him caused him 
 to slacken his pace. After all, she was her own 
 
 mistress, and if she chose At the crossing he 
 
 stood still and watched, shielding himself as best he 
 could behind the adjacent area railings. 
 
 Something in the attitude of the pair arrested his 
 attention. Betty was hurrying along with head 
 down ; the man, keeping pace with her, was expostu- 
 lating excitedly. He was a heavy, lumbering sort of 
 fellow in a cloth cap, but what kind of face was 
 beneath the cap the watcher could not tell. Betty was 
 in the new (second-hand) cloth gown which the con- 
 federates, in recognition of her merits, had presented 
 her with, and in her dark toque and black gloves 
 looked very neat and slim, a striking contrast to the 
 hulking person by her side. 
 
 Fearful that she should think he might be spying
 
 144 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 on her, Sarning was about to disappear down the 
 street, at the corner of which he was standing, when 
 he saw Betty turn and suddenly mount the steps 
 which led up to Mrs. Nuttall's front door. Also he 
 saw that the man followed her, clutching at her skirt 
 as he did so. Then he beheld the girl expostulate, 
 but as if by way of reply the man caught her by the 
 arm and began to drag her back to the pavement. 
 She clung fast to the area railings. 
 
 Charles Sarning had a pair of extremely long legs, 
 and just then they moved with incredible rapidity. 
 Almost before the man knew what was happening he 
 felt a hand laid heavily on his shoulder. With an 
 oath he swung round, snarling. 
 
 He was not a bad-looking specimen of his class. 
 Indeed, he might once have been almost a handsome 
 boy; but dissipation had left an unmistakable mark 
 on him, and his fair face was now pallid with anger. 
 The cold blue eyes glittered as they looked into the 
 soft grey ones. 
 
 " Who the blazes are you ? " he growled in his 
 throat. 
 
 "No matter. I know who you are." 
 
 "Lot o' good may it do you." 
 
 "More good than it is likely to do you Mr. Bob 
 Langford." 
 
 "Yas, that's my name, and I ain't ashamed of it. 
 What then ? " 
 
 "Just this, that you'd better clear out and not make 
 a disturbance." 
 
 "So, it's afraid of a disturbance, are you? Well, 
 I'll disturb the 'ole bloomin' street unless she comes 
 'ome with me." 
 
 The Major turned from him to Betty, who with a
 
 MR. BOB LANGFORD 145 
 
 white face and wide-startled eyes gazed helplessly 
 back at him. 
 
 " Is it your wish to return with him ? " he asked 
 gently. 
 
 "Oh, no, no," she sobbed. 
 
 " You hear, Mr. Langford ? " 
 
 "All the same, she belongs to me, an' she's comin', 
 even if I 'ave to drag 'er." 
 
 "I think not," said the Major under his breath. 
 
 "You think ! I suppose she belongs to you now ! " 
 
 Sarning bit his lip, the mild eyes gleaming omin- 
 ously. Yet for the sake of the house he could not 
 parley on the doorstep, and already more than one 
 dishevelled head had appeared at the windows oppo- 
 site. 
 
 "Will you go away?" said he quietly. 
 
 "Not much unless she goes with me." 
 
 "But she has said she is not going with you." 
 
 "We'll see about that," said Mr. Langford grimly. 
 
 His cold blue eyes glittered as they looked at the 
 shrinking form of the girl. Sarning saw the look, and 
 his face turned a shade paler; but his manner lost 
 none of its mild persuasiveness, and indeed when he 
 spoke his tone was almost apologetic. 
 
 "I'm afraid," he remarked, "that we cannot discuss 
 so grave a subject out here. Have you any objection 
 to coming in and talking it over quietly?" 
 
 Betty flung at the Major a wild, imploring glance, 
 the observing of which caused Mr. Langford to 
 smile. 
 
 "None in the least," he answered cheerily. He had 
 
 already summed up this long, weedy, scarecrow of a 
 
 man, and anticipated some bright entertainment. 
 
 Moreover, he was rather curious to see how she was 
 
 K
 
 146 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 living now, especially as she was looking such a 
 "toff." There might be some profitable hunting here. 
 
 Sarning opened the door and bowed Betty in ; then 
 he turned with a smile to Mr. Langford, who swag- 
 gered into the hall with the assurance of one who was 
 going thoroughly to enjoy himself. 
 
 "I think we had better use Henry's sitting-room," 
 said the Major, addressing Betty. " I am sure he will 
 have no objection." 
 
 She did not speak, she could not have spoken even 
 had speech been necessary, for the lump in her throat 
 was almost choking her. But she turned and began 
 slowly to mount the stairs, for of a sudden all the 
 strength seemed to have gone from her knees. Mr. 
 Langford hummed a merry music-hall ditty as he 
 followed : the Major, thoughtful, brought up the rear. 
 Entering the room he carefully closed the door behind 
 him. Betty stood at the farther extremity by the 
 window; the Major took up a position by the fire- 
 place; Langford surveyed the room with a compre- 
 hensive and admiring glance. 
 
 "Won't you take a chair?" said the Major, inclin- 
 ing his head towards Henry's favourite seat. 
 
 "Don't mind if I do," muttered Bob, though not 
 quite so cheerily ; for there was something about the 
 cold, studied politeness of the long one that rather 
 chilled him. Still he was a man with a profound sense 
 of his own importance; consequently he endeavoured 
 to produce a sensation of self-possession by flinging 
 himself heavily into the seat. But under his heavy 
 ginger brows he looked up at the gaunt figure by the 
 mantelpiece in a quizzing, uncertain fashion, though 
 inwardly telling himself that he could snap that weed 
 across his knee in half-a-tick.
 
 MR. BOB LANGFORD 147 
 
 "Your cap, Mr. Langford," said the Major in his 
 mildest manner. 
 
 "What's the matter with me cap?" growled the 
 fellow. " Isn't it on me 'ead ? " 
 
 "That's just it." 
 
 "It what?" 
 
 "The trouble. You forget there is a lady present." 
 
 "A what ! " The fellow laughed coarsely. " 'Ullo, 
 Bet," he said, turning a mocking face to her, "'ow 
 long 'ave you been a lidy? Strike me rotten if this 
 bloke don't seem to 'a' broke out o' Bedlam." 
 
 "Nevertheless your cap, Mr. Langford," repeated 
 the Major quietly. 
 
 "What becos of 'er?" 
 
 "Because of her." 
 
 "You don't know what she is." 
 
 " I know what you are." 
 
 "Then if you know what I am, don't you think 
 you'd best keep a civil tongue in your mouth ? " 
 
 "I make it an invariable rule to be civil to every- 
 body." 
 
 "Very wise of yer too. Sives a lot o' trouble, I 
 dessay." 
 
 "I dare say." 
 
 "Look 'ere," said the fellow, half rising from his 
 seat, the amused smile giving place to a look of anger, 
 "don't try to come none of your airs with me, for I'm 
 not takin' any, an' I may as well letcher know it from 
 the start." 
 
 " If you wish to remain and carry on this conversa- 
 tion in an amicable manner you will first remove your 
 cap. Otherwise I must request you to leave the 
 house." 
 
 "An* suppose I don't 'appen to obey?" 
 
 K 2
 
 148 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "But I am sure you will Mr. Langford." 
 
 "'Ere, not so damn much o' your ' Mr. Langford.' 
 I don't want none o' your palaver an' sawft soap. 
 All I know is that you've got my tart 'ere, an' for two 
 pins I'd " 
 
 "Precisely. But I can assure you there is no need 
 for such a demonstration. You are a very powerful 
 young fellow, Mr. Langford, and I have no doubt 
 would do excellent work in the quarries if called 
 upon." 
 
 "I might even be riskin' that if you're not careful." 
 
 "In the meantime you still forget that there is a 
 lady present." 
 
 The thought of Betty being called a lady restored 
 him to a somewhat better humour. After all there 
 was entertainment here, and this weedy crank with 
 his airs of superiority was something of a novelty. 
 Besides, he could smash him in half-a-minute. There- 
 fore, with an exaggerated gesture of politeness, he 
 removed the offending head-dress and carefully 
 deposited it beneath the chair. 
 
 "'Ow's that, umpire?" he grinned. 
 
 The Major nodded approval. 
 
 "Let us talk," he said. "To what are we indebted 
 for the honour of this visit ? " 
 
 "I don't know so bloomin' much about the honour," 
 sneered Mr. Langford, "an' I don't know as I par- 
 ticler want to talk to you. The lidy is my lay." 
 
 His manner of emphasizing the world "lidy" was 
 peculiarly telling. He rolled the word round his 
 tongue as though it were the most delicious morsel he 
 had ever tasted. 
 
 "Yes," replied the Major quietly, "but would you 
 mind being a little more explicit? "
 
 MR. BOB LANGFORD 149 
 
 "Ex-what?" said Bob. 
 
 "A trifle more concise. Why are you here?" 
 
 "Didn't you arst me ! Lor' lumme, you don't think 
 you're makin' 'arf a fool of me, do yer ? " 
 
 "There is no cause for excitement, Mr. Langford. 
 I understand you want something?" 
 
 " Gawd lumme, you 'ave got a intellect ! Yas, I 
 want somethink my tart, that's all." 
 
 " I presume you are referring to Miss Pendleton ? " 
 
 "Yas, Miss Pendleton my tart what give me the 
 slip, thinkin' as p'raps I wouldn't come acrawst 'er 
 no more. Well, she mighter known I wasn't goin' to 
 be dropped like that. Not as I expected to find 'er 
 livin' in style like this, Gawd bless 'er ! But she 
 always was a sly, wilful, obstinit little devil. Look 
 at 'er 'air. Did you ever know ginger run straight ? " 
 
 " Do you know, Mr. Langford, I should almost call 
 you ginger? " 
 
 "Like goes to like," said Bob, with a laugh that 
 was like a snarl. 
 
 "Occasionally it goes farther," replied the Major 
 meaningly. 
 
 "What yer mean by that?" 
 
 "Sometimes it trades on the weakness of a woman. 
 A dangerous business, Mr. Langford." 
 
 "So she's been tellin' you that kind o' lie, 'as she? 
 They all yelp the same story, though a man works 
 'is 'ands oph for them. So, you little swine, that's 
 the yarn, is it ? Wite ! " 
 
 There was a world of meaning in the word, an 
 intensity of hatred in the look he flung at Betty which 
 made her cower as though she were receiving a cut 
 from a whip. His great hands opened and shut con- 
 vulsively as though in imagination they were playing
 
 150 A -SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 with her little white throat. The Major saw the terror 
 in her eyes, in her attitude, and his heart swelled with 
 indignation. 
 
 "Still," said he, "I fail to see how that makes good 
 your case. You have not yet explained by what right 
 you expect this lady to accompany you." 
 
 "The right of a man to his own," Bob answered 
 boldly. "Isn't that enough for yer?" 
 
 "But you don't explain what you mean exactly by 
 the right of a man to his own. What in this instance 
 is your right ? " 
 
 "What business is that of yours?" 
 
 "Not much, perhaps." Then, turning to Betty, he 
 said gently : " Do you wish to go back with this 
 man ? " 
 
 "She's goin' whether she wishes it or not, so bite 
 at that till ye're sick." 
 
 "Betty!" 
 
 "No," she answered in a low, choking voice; "I 
 would rather die." 
 
 The Major turned triumphantly to Langford, who 
 met his glance with a malicious scowl. 
 
 "That disposes of your right," he said. "She 
 refuses to return with you." 
 
 "Yet she's goin'," replied the other grimly. 
 "That's enough fer you, ain't it?" 
 
 "Anything is enough for me, my friend. The 
 trouble is that it doesn't seem to be enough for 
 her." 
 
 "It will be enough for 'er when I've finished." He 
 sprang to his feet, glaring from one to the other. " Look 
 'ere, you, I've 'ad quite enough of your jor, so you'd 
 better stow it unless you want me to make yer. The 
 gal belongs to me, an' I'm goin' to 'ave 'er, an' I'll
 
 MR. BOB LANGFORD 151 
 
 smash any cove as tries to come atween me an' my 
 property. You don't s'pose I'm goin' to be made a 
 fool of in this way ; larfed at by 'arf the blokes round 
 our part becos I couldn't look arter me own donah ! 
 Not me, guv'nor. Bob Langford ain't one o' that 
 sort, as any of 'is pals will tell yer. No doubt you'd 
 like to keep 'er for yourself before you fling 'er on the 
 streets; for that's where she's goin' to in the end, an' 
 it's the only place she's fit for, dammer ! " 
 
 The Major grew blood-red with anger and shame : 
 then his face suddenly paled to a deathly white. It 
 seemed as though he breathed with difficulty. 
 
 "You insolent blackguard," he began. 
 
 "Stow that," cried the other furiously, "or I'll break 
 your blarsted jor." 
 
 His face had also grown pallid with excitement and 
 evil with passion. The cold blue eyes were glittering 
 with an icy malevolence : the nether lip hung down 
 and quivered violently. He strode towards the Major 
 with uplifted fist, but he encountered a pair of eyes 
 now burning as eagerly as his own. Betty, with a 
 little frightened cry, flew as if to protect the gentle 
 old campaigner. Langford pulled up with a con- 
 temptuous " Bah ! " and snapped a heavy finger 
 in Sarning's face. 
 
 "You blighter," he said, "if you was only a bit 
 more of a man, I'd paste the life out of yer. Who'd 
 you think you're talkin' to, tellin' me I mustn't do 
 this an' I mustn't do that ? Who'd you think you are, 
 or who'd you think I am? I've sent many a better 
 man than you to the 'orspital for 'arf of what you've 
 said an' done. Want the gal yourself, as though you 
 could keep what I can't ! I tell you once an' for all 
 she's mine, an' that I'll do what I like with 'er; an'
 
 152 A SAINT IN MtJFTI 
 
 that if I 'ave any, more of your jor I'll knock the 
 blarsted life out of yer." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said the Major gently, "we understand 
 that you are a great fighter, Mr. Langford. Now I 
 myself am a man of peace." 
 
 " Yas, I should think it would agree with you more," 
 replied the other in a tone of superb disgust. "For 
 two pins I'd make yer lick me boots; an', by Gawd, 
 you shall lick 'em before I've done with yer." 
 
 "But being a man of peace does not necessarily 
 mean that I should allow myself to be attacked with 
 impunity or that I should lick your boots. Nor does 
 the fact of your being a man of war prove that you 
 are in the right. You see, you have no legal claim 
 on this lady, and consequently she comes under the 
 protection of the law. Now suppose I were to call 
 the policeman who is on point duty round the 
 corner?" 
 
 "Try it on," said Mr. Langford grimly: "jes' you 
 try it on." 
 
 "Such is not my intention, unless you force the 
 alternative on me, because presently you will have the 
 extreme good sense to go of your own accord. I 
 merely used the policeman by way of illustrating the 
 soundness of my argument and the unassailable posi- 
 tion of Miss Pendleton. You see, Mr. Langford, this 
 is a free country, and no power on earth can make 
 her go with you unless she wishes to. Now she has 
 told you to your face that she has no intention of 
 going with you. Therefore your power, real or 
 imaginary, lapses. We will not detain you one 
 moment longer. That is the way down-stairs, Mr. 
 Langford." 
 
 "Yas," said Bob, "it sounds nice an' easy, don't it?
 
 MR. BOB LANGFORD 153 
 
 I put on me 'at an' go out thankin' Gawd for meetin' 
 such a nice agreeable gentleman, who'll look arter me 
 ole tart for me like a good, kind Christian. What's 
 it, the Salvition Army or 'Anwell ? You're the 
 kinder bloke what makes a cove glad to be alive. 
 Gawd lumme, I never seen such kindness since I left 
 the 'orspital. I wonder if your muvver knows you're 
 out? Or p'raps she's dead, an you're eager to join 
 'er? 'Cos if you are you're goin' the right way to 
 realize that ambition. I can see what it is, young 
 milk-an '-water, you're out wiv'out your nurse. I 
 should think she's round the corner playing wiv' a 
 soldier or a pleeceman. We'll send 'er in as we go 
 along. Come on, Betty darling. I can't stand no 
 more of this blinkin' ijit." 
 
 Betty looked at him, her great eyes full of terror. 
 Then she cast an imploring glance at the Major. 
 Bob saw her fear, her indecision, and smiled. In his 
 heart he had not the slightest doubt that presently she 
 would follow him like a dog. 
 
 "You seem to forget," said the Major, "that Miss 
 Pendleton has already declined to go with you." 
 
 "She'll come all the sime, or I'll 'ave to arst 'er why. 
 Now, my gal, let's 'ave no more o' this rot. Don't 
 rile me, Bet: you know I ain't no saint when I'm 
 riled. That's the worst of these women," he con- 
 tinued, turning to the Major, an ugly grin on his 
 face; "they rile a man till 'e loses all control over 
 'isself, an' then 'e 'as to twist their arms, or their 
 necks, before 'e can bring them to reason. See what a 
 obstinit little cat it is now. She knows she's comin' 
 wiv' me orlright, but woman-like she's gotter mike a 
 blinkin' fuss before doin' it." 
 
 "I'm not going with you," she said.
 
 154 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Oh," ejaculated Mr. Langford, "you ain't going 
 wiv' me, Betty ! Now, who'd 'a' thought it? an' me 
 that anxious to overlook yer parst misdeeds. Women 
 is like that, guv'nor," he continued, addressing the 
 Major in mock humility: "do what you will to put 
 'em straight they're bound to take the crooked path 
 from choice. But p'raps I didn't 'ear you, Bet. 
 I've 'ad a cold in this left ear for the larst four 
 d'ys." 
 
 "I am not going with you," she repeated, this time 
 a trifle more firmly. 
 
 "You're comin' wiv' me orlright," he answered 
 roughly. "It's just a question of 'ow. Sensible, like 
 a good gal, an' on yer feet, or by the 'air of the 
 'ead." 
 
 She looked appealingly at the Major, who, 
 unmoved, watched her with strange blinking eyes. 
 Her heart told her that it was hopeless to expect help 
 from such a quarter. He was gentle, good, kind, con- 
 siderate, but these were qualities which would weigh 
 little in the struggle with brute force. Where was Mr. 
 Hallows, where, even, the Actor Man ? Not that she 
 believed either, or both of them, would have been 
 a match for the fierce denizen of Nine Elms. Yet if 
 the truth were told there seemed to be something more 
 of the brute man in them than in this long, weedy 
 creature with the soft eyes of a woman. She also 
 knew that Langford was trifling with him, playing 
 with him as a cat does with a mouse, or as a tiger 
 might with an antelope. All the fierceness of which 
 her frail frame was capable tingled in her veins. Her 
 eyes positively blazed with savage impotence. 
 
 "My Gawd," she muttered between her little teeth, 
 "if I was only a man for five minutes."
 
 MR. BOB LANGFORD 155 
 
 Langford laughed. "Or could get a man to 'elp 
 you, eh ? Well, 'ere's one witing to look arter you, 
 Bet. Yer know 'e can do it, an' yer know 'e's going 
 to do it too. Let's mouch." 
 
 He advanced a step with hand outstretched : she 
 shrank back cowering, shivering. An evil look swept 
 out of the man's eyes. He was growing tired of the 
 play. 
 
 "Damyer," he hissed, "wot yer puttin' on all this 
 muck for! I'm fair sick of it. Come wiv' me, or 
 I'll " 
 
 Savagely he strode forward. The banter had gone 
 from his eyes. The brute was in earnest at last. 
 Insensibly she seemed to shrink nearer the Major, 
 though her frightened eyes, as if fascinated, never left 
 Langford's face. He, seeing only her, came on, when 
 Sarning put out his hand and touched him. Like a 
 fury he turned on the long one, a torrent of direful 
 threats issuing from his livid lips. Perhaps the Major 
 grew a shade paler, but his eyes were steady, and 
 his body seemed perceptibly to stiffen. 
 
 "Mr. Langford," he said in a low voice, which 
 betrayed not a little nervousness, and which Mr. 
 Langford was not slow to interpret in his own way, 
 " I have appealed to your better reason and your sense 
 of honour, but without avail. Whatever this lady may 
 have been to you in the past is nothing to do with the 
 present. She wishes to drop you and all her old 
 associates. You, as a man, should respect her wishes. 
 Moreover, as I before explained, you have no legal 
 right to insist upon her going with you. Therefore, 
 and considering all the circumstances, I really think 
 you had better abandon your claim, or your 
 imaginary rights."
 
 156 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "An* leave 'er to you?" sneered Mr. Langford. 
 "You must think me somethink." 
 
 "I think you are a very rash and bitter man, and 
 that you are laying up for yourself a world of 
 trouble." 
 
 "Oh, goterell," said Mr. Langford disdainfully. "I 
 carn't bovver wiv' a fool like you. Go 'ome an* 
 mind the kid an' mend the 'ousemaid's socks. Don't 
 talk ter me; an' keep that long nose outer my fice, or 
 I'll flatten it." He shook a ponderous fist close up 
 against the offending organ. "If you wanter feel the 
 wite of this, jes' let me know an' I'll on'y be too 'appy 
 to oblige. If it wasn't fer fear of 'urting yer I'd 'a' 
 sent yer to sleep long ago. You ! " He came still 
 closer and glared mockingly into the pale cadaverous 
 face, and deliberately spat at it. "That's wot I think 
 of you," he said. 
 
 This action was followed by an immediate crash, 
 the result of which was that Mr. Langford went spin- 
 ning back across the table, suffering from the vague 
 belief that his brains were being scattered about the 
 four corners of the room. The blow had taken him 
 unawares. Incidentally it had also caught him on the 
 point of the jaw. He saw many stars : he had never 
 seen so many on the finest summer night. 
 
 For a few moments he clung desperately to the 
 table, not yet quite certain where he was, or what had 
 happened. It rather seemed as though his jawbone 
 had been suddenly shattered into innumerable pieces, 
 and that the various splinters thereof were being 
 driven up into his brain. Betty glared from him to the 
 cause of his downfall, a great fear in her eyes. Bob, 
 she saw, was slowly recovering from the shock, and 
 on completion of that recovery she knew he would half
 
 : 
 
 MR. BOB LANGFORD 157 
 
 kill the Major. Therefore she sprang to him, touched 
 him on the arm, pointed to the door, and whispered, 
 "Go, go quick ! " But the old war-horse had scented 
 battle. His chin was up, his eyes blazing, and the 
 long lean hands were clenched desperately until they 
 seemed all knuckle. Though the way lay clear for an 
 escape he never moved. He had no thought of retreat- 
 ing. Perhaps he thought of nothing but that heavy 
 sprawling figure, and how he should meet the second 
 shock. 
 
 It came almost sooner than he expected. Bob drew 7 
 himself to his feet and amid a perfect torrent of 
 obscenity flung himself upon Sarning. The old war- 
 horse stiffened himself for the shock, and with a sting- 
 ing left fair between the eyes checked the savage rush. 
 Howling still more furiously, as though the indig- 
 nity were even greater than the pain, Langford came 
 on again and smote the Major mightily on the side of 
 the head. Had the blow been struck lower do\vn there 
 is no doubt that Sarning would have been counted 
 out; but fortunately for him it fell on the thickest 
 portion of his skull, and though it sent him reeling 
 backwards it had no permanent effect, or such only 
 as to make its recipient more wary. He saw at once 
 that physically he was a mere child in Langford's 
 hands; but he also saw as quickly that his opponent 
 had nothing behind him but brute force. Moreover, 
 at that moment a new strength was surging in his 
 own slow veins : of a sudden he had grown twenty 
 years younger. 
 
 Bob made all the fighting, expending a tremendous 
 amount of energy on nothing, the uttering of his oaths 
 alone being a great physical effort. The Major never 
 spoke a word, but his eyes, which were now cold and
 
 158 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 hard as steel, never for a second quitted the inflamed 
 visage before him. Lots of old boxing tricks, which 
 he thought he had forgotten, came to him as he 
 danced round the room to avoid the ugly rushes; for 
 after some half-dozen stingers had reminded Mr. 
 Langford that he could not pound this slippery weed 
 at long range, he endeavoured to drive him into 
 corners, and thus by sheer weight alone bring him 
 to the ground. But Sarning, knowing that this 
 extremity must be avoided at all costs, skipped about 
 the room like a kitten. And as he warmed to his work 
 he smiled, yes, positively smiled, and Mr. Langford, 
 seeing that smile, foamed with rage. 
 
 And then a very curious thing happened. Bob, 
 rushing at him, tripped and lurched heavily forward, 
 arms flying wide like the sails of a windmill ; and he 
 would, perhaps, have fallen had not the Major with a 
 lightning-like movement stepped in and fiercely 
 upper-cut him. This, so to speak, straightened Bob, 
 but before he could recover his equilibrium the old 
 warrior sent in a smashing right and left on the 
 defenceless face, and the champion of Nine Elms 
 collapsed with a moan. 
 
 The Major stood over him with closed fists, the 
 hard light of battle still in his eyes. As Mr. Langford 
 endeavoured to rise, the Major threatened him, at 
 which he sank again to the floor, being not so lost to 
 reason and contingent probabilities as to despise the 
 weight and accuracy of those fists. 
 
 "Have you had enough?" asked the Major; "be- 
 cause if you haven't I've no objection to obliging you 
 further." 
 
 Bob did not answer for a moment or so. Then he 
 mumbled savagely :
 
 MR. BOB LANGFORD 159 
 
 "I've 'ad enough." 
 
 "There's lots more where that came from," insin- 
 uated the other. 
 
 "Orlright," said Bob: "kick a man when 'e's 
 down, you coward." 
 
 "Miss Pendleton is waiting for an apology," said 
 the Major. 
 
 "Let 'er wite." 
 
 "Such is not my intention. I give you five seconds 
 only." 
 
 Looking up, Mr. Langford encountered the cold 
 cruel gleam of those steely eyes. Incidentally he also 
 noticed the closed fists : they loomed before his vision 
 a gigantic and uncompromising mass of knuckle. 
 And he W 7 as on his back with a smarting face, a face 
 which seemed as though it had been knocked on one 
 side. He realized that he was at a sad disadvantage. 
 
 "I'm sorry," he muttered ungraciously. 
 
 " And you will never again molest this lady ? " 
 
 Bob was silent. This seemed the crowning 
 indignity. 
 
 "You will never again molest her?" insisted the 
 Major. 
 
 "Isn't she my property?" 
 
 "You will never again molest her? " said the Major 
 a third time. 
 
 "Orlright." 
 
 "One more ordeal, Mr. Langford. Just now you 
 spoke of making me lick your boots." 
 
 "I was on'y charffin' yer." 
 
 "No doubt. Still, I'm going to make you lick 
 mine." 
 
 "Oh, are yer?" cried the other, making as though 
 he would rise. He, however, immediately sank back
 
 160 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 again hiding his face in his arms. Those gigantic 
 knuckles were almost in his eyes. 
 
 "I am. Not that I wish to humiliate you, Mr. 
 Langford, but I think it might be for the good of 
 your soul. Put your hands down to your sides and 
 keep them there. So excellent ! " He drew the sole 
 of his boot across Bob's bruised and swollen mouth. 
 "That will do," he said. "I have no further use for 
 you. You may get up and go. And if you value 
 that precious hide of yours you had better not bring 
 it round this way again." 
 
 Bob rose slowly to his feet, and then only was it 
 seen what an awful mess the Major had made of his 
 face. 
 
 "Your turn to-d'y," he muttered, "mine to-morrer. 
 Look out fer yerself, that's all." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Langford, I shall look after 
 myself quite nicely. But before you come round 
 again take a few lessons in boxing. You can't fight 
 for nuts." 
 
 Bob slouched to the door, but with his fingers on 
 the handle he turned and flung a vicious look at 
 Betty. 
 
 "I won't forgit you either," he said meaningly. 
 
 "Or him," she jeered. "Take that face back to 
 Nine Elms, you dog, and tell them how you got it."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE CHARM OF SEX 
 
 MR, LANGFORD opened the door and slouched out, 
 the Major following him. Betty crept after them and 
 listened. She heard him clump down the stairs and 
 presently slam the front door in such a manner as 
 to endanger the stability of the building. It was the 
 only kind of revenge he could take, and she breathed 
 a sigh of relief. When Charles Sarning returned 
 she was waiting for him with eager eyes. 
 
 "Are you hurt?" she asked. 
 
 "Not much. He got in one or two, but he doesn't 
 know how to use his hands." 
 
 She looked at the man who had suddenly grown a 
 hero in her eyes. 
 
 "It was wonderful," she gasped. "I thought he 
 would kill you." 
 
 "Just a trick or two learnt in the old days," he 
 replied. "I'm sorry; but I couldn't let him spit in 
 my face." 
 
 "Sorry ! " she echoed. 
 
 "Perhaps I was unnecessarily severe. But when 
 a man's blood is up " 
 
 "You made him lick your boots," she cried 
 triumphantly. "My Gawd I" 
 
 "It was very wrong of me," he said. "I did not 
 think I had so much venom left. Please do not tell 
 anybody." 
 
 L 161
 
 162 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 Not tell anybody ! She wanted to go out in the 
 street and shout it aloud. 
 
 "It was a mean revenge," he added contritely: "I 
 am ashamed of it. I wonder what devil it is in man 
 that urges him to such lengths." 
 
 "He would have made you eat dirt," she protested. 
 
 "Probably; but then he is a savage." 
 
 "And ought to be treated as one." 
 
 "Probably. Curious how the primitive fighting 
 instinct survives. Man destroying man. It's only 
 one degree more brutal than man destroying woman." 
 
 "He'd have destroyed you quick enough if he 
 could." 
 
 He shook his head, pressing a handkerchief to his 
 swollen mouth, from which a tiny stream of blood 
 was trickling. 
 
 "He has hurt you I " she cried in great alarm. 
 
 "Not a bit. An inconvenient sensation, but of the 
 mildest nature. I'll go and attend to it. You tidy 
 up the room before Alfred returns." 
 
 She looked at him in a way that might have be- 
 wildered a less phlegmatic person ; but he, his hand- 
 kerchief still pressed to his mouth, merely nodded at 
 her as he quitted the room. 
 
 More and more did the singular character of this 
 man bewilder her. Of all the surprises of her life 
 this put the crown on them. That he, whom in her 
 heart she had really despised as a harmless crank, 
 a man of neither blood nor muscle, a good captain 
 of Salvationists spoiled, should have stood up to Bob 
 Langford and beaten him, actually beaten him ! \vas 
 a truth too enormous to be grasped. Yet it had all 
 happened, and Bob the redoubtable had slunk off like 
 a whipped cur with his tail between his legs. The
 
 THE CHARM OF SEX 168 
 
 wonder and the glory of it all ! Again and again she 
 reconstructed the scene and lingered lovingly over 
 its details. The manner of the Major, so mild as to 
 be provocative : the almost feminine attempts to in- 
 duce Mr. Langford to listen to reason, the voice of 
 conscience. Through all her terror she knew Bob 
 was laughing at those feeble efforts : paralyzed as 
 she was with fright she could have shrieked aloud 
 at Sarning's pusillanimity. And then with unex- 
 ampled suddenness the whole scene was changed. 
 The long limp figure grew tense as a rod of steel, 
 the mild soft look of the eyes changed to an icy 
 glitter. They were the eyes of a man who means to 
 kill. The face assumed a grim, ferocious aspect, the 
 mouth hardened : every action, gesture, was that of 
 the animal alert. And in the end Bob Langford was 
 made to lick the boots of the man whom he had 
 despised ! 
 
 She was still busy arranging the disordered furni- 
 ture when Aloes peeped in. 
 
 "Hullo," cried he, "what's been the matter here? 
 Earthquakes ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Oh! Where's Henry?" 
 
 "Dunno. But it wasn't his doing." 
 
 There was a proud light in her eyes which Aloes 
 did not fail to observe : a spirit of suppressed excite- 
 ment, as it were, which gripped the philosopher and 
 set him wondering. 
 
 "What's happened, Betty?" 
 
 " Bob Langford came." 
 
 "Indeed. Who saw him?" 
 
 "The Major." 
 
 Aloes looked concerned. He had that pitying kind 
 
 L2
 
 164 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 of affection for Charles which a mother has for her 
 son who is not of the brightest intellect. 
 
 " Well, what happened ! " It was more a command 
 than a question. Betty's great eyes burned up into his. 
 
 "The Major damn near killed him! " 
 
 "You don't mean " 
 
 "Yes I do, though. An' he made him lick his 
 boots ! " 
 
 " He made the Major ? " 
 
 "No. The Major made him 1 " 
 
 "Tell me, Betty," whispered Aloes, as he sank 
 gasping in a chair. 
 
 Nothing loath, she narrated the whole incident, the 
 philosopher knowing not which to admire most, her 
 dramatic method of recital, or the marvellous doings 
 of Charles. His eyes brightened as he listened. In 
 her excitement Betty reverted at times to the vernacu- 
 lar of Nine Elms, but the rugged one never thought 
 of checking her. Perhaps he even deemed the recital 
 gained force thereby. 
 
 "I never thought he could fight," said Aloes. 
 
 "Just can't he ! " replied the girl proudly. 
 
 The philosopher noted the happy flush and drew 
 sundry conclusions therefrom. The uniformity of 
 nature was wonderful. It was all merely a question 
 of degree. The "lady" exalted the man in the red 
 or the blue coat; the waif of the streets looked up 
 to him who fought on a level with her intelligence. 
 Whichever way you looked at it, the love and admira- 
 tion was for the fighter. 
 
 He found the warrior up-stairs washing his swollen 
 mouth. 
 
 "I've just heard all about it," he said. "Con- 
 gratulations."
 
 THE CHARM OF SEX 165 
 
 "I'm afraid I forgot myself, Alfred. But, you see, 
 he spat in my face." 
 
 "And you promptly knocked him down." 
 
 "But he was really the better man, only he had no 
 science, while I remembered a few old tricks of the 
 ring picked up in my degenerate days. I really wish 
 it hadn't happened." 
 
 "Probably he wishes so too. Heigho, Charles, I'd 
 no idea you were such a devil of a fellow." 
 
 "Please don't let us say any more about it." 
 
 But from that moment Betty Pendleton's adoration 
 of the warrior grew. Hitherto he had seemed but a 
 good-natured nondescript, now he was a person 
 fraught with all human possibilities : a hero and a 
 saint in mufti, a very paladin among men. No longer 
 did doubt assail her as to the honesty of his inten- 
 tions. It is true that she really did not understand 
 him any better, but he now appealed to her imagina- 
 tion in a new and vivid manner. He was still the 
 mystery of mysteries, yet of that kind which remains 
 for simple natures a joy in sorrow, a delight in pain. 
 
 She never neglected her duties towards the other 
 two; they had not the least fault to find with her 
 conduct, albeit Navarre professed intense jealousy, 
 and threatened murder and suicide in his humorous 
 play-acting fashion. But there was a vast difference 
 between the work which was the result of duty, and 
 that which was inspired by love. Charles never had 
 to ask her to darn his socks or put a button on his 
 shirt. His room was kept like a new pin. It was 
 a room without pretence of any kind, a heart-breaking 
 room which one might work at all day without show- 
 ing any surprising result. She knew it was hopeless 
 to scour and brush and dust. Yet she did it in the
 
 166 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 hope that he might see and understand. At times 
 she wondered if he did see. At any rate he said 
 nothing, and her heart was aching for a word of 
 praise. Occasionally a bunch of cheap flowers found 
 its way to his room. "That's Betty," he would say 
 to himself : smell them, admire them, and then forget 
 all about them. But not always did he forget to 
 thank her, and her joy was great. Yet she could not 
 fail to see that he did it all in a perfunctory manner. 
 Once again the old lethargic spirit had descended on 
 him. He came and went as one who had no interest 
 in life. 
 
 Sometimes he took her out walking of an after- 
 noon : occasionally they perambulated the adjacent 
 streets and squares at night, the Major talking 
 philosophy, as was his custom, the girl thinking of 
 things that never touched the stars. Of the higher 
 transcendentalism she knew little, and cared less. She 
 was not sure that she heard half of what he said : 
 certainly she understood less than half. But she was 
 conscious of feeling proud to be seen walking by 
 his side, and she had now no fear of encountering 
 the discredited champion of Nine Elms. That at all 
 events was a nightmare which frightened her no 
 more, and in the sense of a new-found freedom she 
 experienced the regeneration of a new birth. Yet she 
 could wish that tall lean head would come down from 
 the stars. Aware of being but an insignificant 
 mortal, she could not sink her identity as woman, and 
 the woman in her called loudly for comfort, consola- 
 tion. At times she failed utterly to remember what 
 she had been, and even when remembering saw as 
 through a swimming haze of devotion. Conscious of 
 that which stirred her to nobility, the old shadow
 
 THE CHARM OF SEX 167 
 
 in the background was but a trifling bogey which 
 she could disperse at will. And she did not want 
 much : she asked for no great sacrifice. Just a word 
 here and there, a touch of the hand, a hope for the 
 future. All other sacrifices she was prepared to make. 
 By sacrifice might she gain redemption. 
 
 At first she wondered if there was some other 
 woman in the background. How else could she 
 account for his totally inexplicable conduct ? That he 
 did not fulfil her notion of the high moralist she 
 proved conclusively to her own satisfaction. In her 
 narrow view of life she associated morality, and all 
 the other unpleasant virtues, with church and pro- 
 testation ; but as he neither went to church nor pro- 
 tested it was evident that he had fallen far from 
 grace. Many a time she had listened at street corners 
 to the wild harangues of the Army, and had heard 
 with wonder of the hard road that led to salvation, 
 being not at all astonished that so few should take it. 
 The Christian faith, as preached in the streets of 
 Nine Elms by the devout but illiterate Army, was 
 a hard, black, unsympathetic creed which found no 
 favour in her sight, and in this she was nearer the 
 literate portion of the community than she imagined. 
 Therefore the Major was decidedly no moralist within 
 the meaning of the term ; nor, as far as her probings 
 went, could she discover the slightest trace of any 
 other woman. Aloes had never heard of such : 
 Henry declared that Sarning had never loved any 
 woman but his mother. Yet the woman in her was 
 not satisfied. She knew that she had improved out 
 of all recognition during these last few weeks. If 
 her glass had not told her that she was pretty, the 
 glances of the men as she walked along the streets
 
 168 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 would have assured her of that fact. Yet he seemed 
 to see nothing of all this. Her hair was naturally 
 rough and wild, yet because she once heard him say 
 he disliked to see a woman with untidy hair, she 
 took the most scrupulous pains to keep it within 
 bounds. Her voice also she modulated because he 
 once told her that one of woman's greatest charms 
 was a sweet voice. 
 
 "Above all things be feminine," he said to her 
 on one occasion, "above and before all things be 
 feminine. It is the thing he has not which charms 
 a man. I love to see women in laces and frills and 
 fal-lals. I can even forgive them their worship of 
 jewellery. True, it is a characteristic which brings 
 the savage queen to the same intellectual level as the 
 so-called civilized one. Yet it is distinctly feminine, 
 and in that lies the apology and the pardon. 
 Woman has her ways, her whims, but on the whole 
 I don't know that I would alter them, for do they 
 not constitute that quality which we term the charm 
 of sex? Everything, I take it, that makes for man's 
 better side, or his greatness, lies in the charm of 
 sex. It may be love of the mother, the sister, the 
 wife. Yet without the companionship of woman man 
 is like a derelict on the great ocean of life." 
 
 A question bubbled to her lips, but she dared not 
 put it. If the charm of sex made such a powerful 
 appeal to man, how was it she failed so egregiously 
 to interest him ? Perhaps he was thinking of women 
 
 who Yet that could be no insuperable bar; for 
 
 she who asked so little was ready to give so much. 
 It is not in human nature to flout a bargain that is 
 all in our favour. Yet this strange creature, who 
 could discourse with such apparent learning on
 
 THE CHARM OF SEX 169 
 
 woman's fal-lals, seemed so little to understand a 
 woman's soul. 
 
 Sometimes the spirit of revolt beat hard for recog- 
 nition. The more impulsive and dangerous phases 
 of her nature she held down by sheer power of will. 
 But there were moments when she doubted that the 
 result was worth the effort : moments again, in an 
 access of humility, when she could have flung her- 
 self at his feet and implored him to tread on her face, 
 even as he had trodden on the face of Bob Langford. 
 
 But if he remained impervious to that charm of sex 
 of which he discoursed so glibly, there were one or 
 two others in Tachbrook Street who seemed to find 
 it irresistible. Already it has been mentioned that 
 Bill Nuttall had taken to washing his face when he 
 came home from work of an evening, an innovation 
 which had caused his good wife not a little alarm. 
 The purchasing of a flashy silk necktie also aroused 
 considerable comment. The blacking of boots, too, 
 that went on in the area was astounding. Bill 
 seemed suddenly to indulge in an orgy of reckless 
 cleanliness. And he drank less. In truth he seemed 
 suddenly to become a model of a husband with one 
 exception. Ma Nuttall found him less loving than 
 heretofore, and he seemed always to discover some 
 trivial fault in her. To this she paid little heed; 
 though once, when he inadvertently mentioned the 
 improvement in Betty, she announced rather sharply 
 that the worse the woman was the better she seemed 
 to get on in the world. 
 
 "But you wouldn't call 'er bad now? " said Bill. 
 
 "Once bad, always bad," replied his wife with con- 
 viction. "You can't make nothink out of nothink." 
 
 With which remark she clinched the argument
 
 170 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 entirely to her own satisfaction; and perhaps to Bill's 
 also, for a sudden light of understanding shone in his 
 little narrow eyes. In a sense Ma Nuttall never 
 forgave Betty her rise in the world. She confessed 
 that the girl received more than her deserts from 
 the "fellows up-stairs," while frankly admitting that 
 there was nothing in the arrangement to which "a 
 honest woman with a growing fambly " might object. 
 And indeed she found the girl distinctly useful at 
 times, ready to help with the children or run a mes- 
 sage. Moreover, the attendance on the "fellows 
 up-stairs " relieved the good woman of an infinity of 
 labour; for Betty invariably saw to their wants from 
 cooking their dinner to blacking their boots. The 
 way she ran up and down stairs was a source of sur- 
 prise and envy to Ma Nuttall. "You ain't got 
 nothink to carry but a bit o' skin an' bone," she said 
 to the girl, who laughed merrily by way of reply 
 and said she had all she wanted, thank you. And 
 Bill, listening, nodded his head gravely. 
 
 It was a little curious how thoughtful he had grown 
 of late. For an hour at a time he would sit pulling 
 at his old briar, burning shag with reckless prodi- 
 gality, and looking into space. Yet every sound that 
 descended to the kitchen was heard by him, and when 
 he heard her tripping down the stairs he would arise 
 swiftly, pass the back of his hand across his mouth, 
 give his moustache a twirl, and shake his silk necktie 
 into position. Once, as she passed him by in the 
 passage which led to the area, he slipped a little bag 
 of sweets into her hand, which she afterwards shared 
 with Eckie and Ann Emma, an act which did not at 
 all meet with their father's approval. Once he also 
 hinted that any night the Major was too busy to take
 
 THE CHARM OF SEX 171 
 
 her out for a constitutional, he would only be too 
 happy to oblige. But while she thanked him she was 
 fully aware of the danger she would incur by accept- 
 ing his kind offer. Moreover, she knew that never 
 again could she walk out with the like of Bill Nuttall. 
 
 Bill was slow and dull. His wife would have told 
 you that there was never such a dull fellow this side 
 of a cemetery. Yet like most slow dull people he 
 was extremely tenacious. Let an idea once sink into 
 that heavy brain of his and it embedded itself so 
 firmly that nothing short of a charge of dynamite 
 could dislodge it. And some such idea had sunk 
 there now, and he thought over it and brooded over 
 it until he saw no reason why his hopes should not 
 be realized. At work he thought of it, at night he 
 dreamt of it. Such a thought has made greater men 
 than Mr. Nuttall toss restlessly through half the 
 night. His wife, watching closely, whispered to her- 
 self, "It's gals!" 
 
 But for the life of him he did not know how to 
 bring matters to a head. In a clumsy, silent fashion 
 he paid her many compliments; yet she appeared to 
 take it all as a matter of course. He could not be- 
 lieve that she did not understand : it was only her 
 woman's way of pretending not to. Yet that she 
 should pretend anything of the sort seemed to him 
 absurd to a degree. "You can't make nothink out of 
 nothink," as his wife had so sagely remarked. The 
 argument seemed conclusive. 
 
 There is extant a pleasant fiction to this effect 
 (which may have cheered some astoundingly optimis- 
 tic souls), that everything comes to the man who 
 knows how to wait. Bill undoubtedly knew how to 
 wait. He was born waiting : he had never done any-
 
 172 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 thing else all his life. That was his trouble. He 
 waited so long that the only thing that waited for 
 him was disappointment. Major Sarning always 
 declared that disappointment was heaven's own purge 
 for the soul, and all who were well acquainted with 
 the philosophy of that wise man saw the aphorism 
 exemplified in himself. But Bill, although he waited, 
 waited in dog-like fashion like all his class, had no 
 philosophy. Consequently he did not discern the 
 astounding virtue of disappointment. It may have 
 had its attractions for others, it may have been the 
 most admirable instrument for forming character that 
 fate had yet invented; but if the deity had told him 
 so he would have answered rudely. 
 
 And yet, as if to confound him, the chance came 
 one Saturday afternoon. Ma Nuttall took his wages 
 and went out to do a little shopping, begging Betty 
 to give an "eye to things," which things included 
 Bill and the "fambly." Bill said he was going to a 
 football match over Chelsea way, but he didn't go. 
 When Betty questioned him on this matter he merely 
 shook his head and stared hard at her. It promised 
 rain : at least so he said. She assured him it would 
 not rain. He merely glared at her harder than ever 
 and cuffed little Eckie. 
 
 "Blow the kids," he growled; "they're always 
 gettin' under your feet. 'Ere, run out an' pl'y." 
 
 "I don't think they'd better," suggested Betty. 
 "Mrs. Nuttall said I wasn't to let them out of my 
 sight." 
 
 "Blower," said Bill contemptuously. But he did 
 not like to insist on his authority. Just then he had 
 reasons for wishing to appear particularly affable. 
 
 He sat there with his back against the window,
 
 THE CHARM OF SEX 178 
 
 apparently lost in the pure enjoyment of his pipe. 
 Yet never for a moment did his eyes stray from the 
 lithe figure as it flashed brightly to and fro across 
 the dreary kitchen. Now his eyes grew dreamy, con- 
 templative, and now they narrowed and scintillated 
 with absolute greed. Whenever she left the room for 
 a moment he shifted his position and sternly con- 
 templated the children. Eckie squinted timorously 
 up at him, while Ann Emma pouted her disapproba- 
 tion of fathers in general and this one in particular. 
 Young as she was she showed his own heavy ugly 
 mouth. 
 
 "Mar said you wasn't to go out, did she?" 
 
 "Yas," said his daughter. 
 
 "Wotfer?" 
 
 "I dunno." 
 
 " Where's she gorne ? " 
 
 "What, Mar?" 
 
 "Yas." 
 
 "Out," said Ann Emma. 
 
 "Lumme," replied her father, "you're sharp. 'Ow 
 long does she st'y ? " 
 
 "I dunno." 
 
 "Depends 'ow many of *er pals she meets at the 
 Perseverance wot I " 
 
 "I dunno," replied the girl, her sullen mouth 
 hardening. 
 
 "You're a bright sorter kid, you are," growled her 
 father; "you don't seem to know nothink, you don't. 
 Don't they learn you nothink at school?" 
 
 "No," said the girl. 
 
 "Well I'm blowed," muttered Bill. "This is wot 
 we p'y the rites fer. Gawd lumme if this bloomin' 
 old country ain't goin' to the dorgs. It's all along
 
 174 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 o' this rotten Guv'mint. An' Mm," pointing to little 
 Eckie, "ain't 'e learnin' nothink neither?" 
 
 The girl shook her head. "Nothink." 
 
 Bill was so overwhelmed at the thought of the utter 
 depravity and incapacity of his rulers that he could 
 do nothing but refill his pipe. Not that his brain 
 was not working tumultuously that is, tumultuously 
 for him. Come what might, he had to get rid of these 
 children, though as yet he could not formulate a plan. 
 There was no subtlety in Bill : he was about as 
 ingenious as a policeman. 
 
 "Think you might find 'er?" he asked casually. 
 
 "Dunno." 
 
 "Not as you need look too 'ard. I ain't in no 
 'urry. S'pose you can look after 'Ector a'right?" 
 
 "S'pose so," replied his daughter. 
 
 "If I was to give yer tuppence," suggested the wily 
 one. 
 
 Hector looked up in wonder : Ann Emma stared at 
 him as though she could scarcely credit her senses. 
 
 "That would be a'right, wouldn't it?" said Bill. 
 
 "My oaf," trilled Hector in his shrill little pipe. 
 
 The father looked hard at his son and heir. 
 
 "You're not comin' on a bit," he said : "you're not 
 'arf doin' yourself well, I don't think. Look 'ere, 
 'ere's the two d." He held out the twopence to his 
 daughter, who was so amazed at the offer that she 
 seemed positively afraid to accept it. "You tike 
 'Ector out an' buy 'im some torfee; an' see that 'e 
 don't choke 'isself, nor get run over. An' don't go 
 near the Perseverance, 'cos they won't let you in 
 under fourteen. I should s'y the Embenkment." 
 
 The girl, realizing now that the offer was a genuine 
 one, advanced and swiftly snatched the coppers from
 
 THE CHARM OF SEX 175 
 
 his hand as though fearful he might change his mind. 
 Also, in case he should withdraw permission to go 
 out on the Embankment, she caught Hector by the 
 hand and hurried him away. 
 
 Bill heaved a deep sigh of content and relit his 
 pipe. He flattered himself that he had shown much 
 cleverness in this matter. That offer of twopence 
 was nothing less than a stroke of genius; though 
 when he reflected that it was the price of a glass of 
 beer, and that he might have got rid of them for 
 nothing, he knitted his brows in some perplexity of 
 thought. Still it was clever, and he had been both 
 generous and ingenious. 
 
 When Betty re-entered the kitchen her first ques- 
 tion was, "Where are the children?" 
 
 "I sent 'em out," said Bill. "Pore little blighters, 
 they must 'ave some fresh air." 
 
 "But Mrs. Nuttall was particular to " she 
 
 began. 
 
 "Blower," said Bill. "Who's she ! " 
 
 "But they were left in my charge." 
 
 "I know, but I'll see about that. Don't you worry 
 dear." 
 
 The word came out slowly, a kind of afterthought. 
 If she heard it she let it pass. She had been called 
 many worse names. 
 
 "But you shouldn't let 'em go," she insisted. "I 
 know their mother'll be angry." 
 
 " Letter ! Wish you was their mother." 
 
 "Thank you. I don't." 
 
 "P'raps you don't farncy me for a 'usband? " He 
 grinned nervously. 
 
 "Oh, you're all right," she said, as she threw a 
 shovelful of coke on the fire.
 
 176 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "But you don't farncy me for a 'usband?" he 
 insisted. 
 
 "What nonsense you talk, Mr. Nuttall." 
 
 "Why don't you call me Bill?" 
 
 "I don't know you well enough." 
 
 "Whose fault is that? An' suppose I ain't talkin' 
 nonsense ? " 
 
 She turned to him smiling amusedly, but looking 
 into his face found nothing amusing there. Indeed 
 of a sudden an incomprehensible quiver shot through 
 her: then suddenly she began to burn. It was 
 strange that she should burn because a man looked 
 admiringly at her. The thought increased her con- 
 fusion. Yet incomprehensibly agitated as she was 
 she seemed to realize that she had better go. With 
 that she turned to the door, but before she had reached 
 it Bill called to her. Slowly she turned and faced 
 him. He had risen from his seat and was tugging 
 at his pocket. 
 
 "Somethink I got for you," he said, handing her 
 the paper parcel which he had with much difficulty 
 extracted; "somethink for your pretty 'air." 
 
 "But -" she began. 
 
 "Ain't you goin' to tike a squint at it?" 
 
 Thus admonished, there was nothing for her but 
 to open the package, which contained a small com- 
 position hair-comb studded with imitation rubies. 
 
 "Like your 'air," he explained admiringly : "red." 
 
 His face was aglow with pleasure : the grin widened 
 his lips and showed more of his mouth than was 
 really wise. 
 
 " Why do you give me this ? " she asked. 
 
 "Dunno, I'm sure. Been so bloomin' good to the 
 kids."
 
 THE CHARM OF SEX 177 
 
 "You mustn't," she said, handing it back to him. 
 
 "Why not ! It's bought an' paid for." 
 
 "Yes, it's very kind of you," she answered in some 
 confusion. "I thank you all the same." 
 
 "Well then, I bought it because I wanted to give 
 you somethink, an' I know gals like these pretty bits 
 o' gimcrack." 
 
 "Does Mrs. Nuttall know?" 
 
 "Why should she? It ain't no business of 'ers. 
 An' you carn't mind." 
 
 It was absurd, of course, and she felt its absurdity, 
 yet that was just the point : she did mind. He would 
 not have understood this no one would, perhaps 
 yet it was a fact. That he should think she could not 
 mind, stung her. Nor did consciousness of the incon- 
 gruity of such a sensation allay her perturbation. 
 Again she moved towards the door. 
 
 "Look 'ere," said he, "why shouldn't we be good 
 frens ? " 
 
 "But we are." 
 
 "Better frens, then. I don't mind walkin' out with 
 you when the Major is otherwise engaged." 
 
 "I don't go out much," she explained. 
 
 "'Fraid of meetin' 'im, I s'pose? Well, if 'e 
 comes anigh when you're with me I'll smash 'im. 
 I ain't afraid of 'im, you know, if they are." "They " 
 meant the gentlemen up-stairs. Betty smiled. She 
 knew of one who was not. 
 
 "What would Mrs. Nuttall say?" 
 
 She realized that Ma Nuttall was her trump card, 
 her sheet-anchor, her port in a storm. 
 
 "She needn't know. This is a little affair between 
 us. You're not 'arf wide awake I don't think." 
 
 The flush mantled to her forehead and lost itself
 
 178 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 in the roots of her hair. She felt as though she could 
 have scratched his eyes out. Yet there were certain 
 memories which restrained her : hopes that were not 
 yet dead. 
 
 "I'm going straight," she said. 
 
 "Oh, are you! Will it p'y?" 
 
 "I dunno. All depends on what you call paying." 
 
 "Y'know, I've taken a great farncy to you, an' I'm 
 not one as lets 'is farncies go cheap. It's always as 
 well to 'ave a fren in the 'ouse." 
 
 "An' 'aven't she?" 
 
 Ma Nuttall was standing in the doorway, her mesh 
 bag, in which she carried her purchases, dangling 
 on her arm. Bill began hastily to strike a lucifer on 
 the leg of his trousers, or rather he made an attempt 
 to strike one. This was one of those occasions which 
 taxed the ingenuity how not to do it. Betty turned 
 to her with a half-suppressed sigh of welcome, and 
 at once relieved her of her bag. She was full of such 
 thoughtful little actions. Ma Nuttall breathed over 
 her a gin-sodden "Thankee, m'dear;" and then, for 
 the first time discovering the absence of the "fambly," 
 began a quick inquiry. 
 
 "I sent 'em out," said Bill. "Pore kids was stiflin' 
 for a breath o' fresh air. You 'aven't no objections, 
 I 'ope?" 
 
 This was said in a mannef which immediately 
 brought his better half to reason. When Nuttall 
 assumed that tone it was always wise to agree with 
 him. As a rule he only spoke like that when he was 
 in liquor ; but there are other causes which upset a 
 man just as badly. 
 
 "None at all," she answered quickly. "I on'y 'ope 
 they don't go an' git theirselves run over."
 
 THE CHARM OF SEX 179 
 
 " Lettem," said their father. 
 
 "Lumme, Nuttall, you ain't been drinkin', 'ave 
 you ? " 
 
 "Wish I 'ad sime as you." 
 
 "Oh, Nuttall, 'ow could you! An' me a respect- 
 able married woman, an' the mother of a fambly." 
 
 "Wish you an' the fambly was in 'ell," said Bill. 
 
 "Lumme," she cried again, "you do go on so." 
 Then she caught a glimpse of the comb in Betty's 
 hand. Her eyes instantly widened with suspicion. 
 "Where'd you git that?" she asked sharply. 
 
 "Oh, that," replied Betty gently. "Do you like 
 it? So glad. It's a present for you." 
 
 "Per me!" 
 
 "If you will have it." 
 
 She held it out to Mrs. Nuttall, who clutched at it 
 wildly, gloated over it for the space of ten seconds, 
 and then began to fasten it in her greasy hair. 
 
 While this important action was in progress Betty 
 stole a quick, comprehensive glance at Nuttall. Pale 
 fury was depicted on his face : he looked as though 
 he would like to take the two women and knock their 
 heads together. 
 
 " 'Ow does it look ? " asked Mrs. Nuttall, preening 
 herself like a young girl with a new hat. She had 
 placed it across the broad parting in the front of her 
 bonnet. 
 
 "Beautiful," answered Betty. 
 
 Bill chewed through the stem of his pipe. 
 
 M 2
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE CHARM OF SEx (continued) 
 
 ALOES read from the MS. of that great work, The 
 Philosophy of a Savage 
 
 "Only the masculine intellect, befogged by sexual 
 impulse, could call that short, narrow-shouldered, 
 broad-hipped, short-legged race fair." 
 
 He stared at the page, the furrow deepening be- 
 tween his brows. Then he looked up at Sarning, an 
 odd twinkle in his eyes. 
 
 "Schopenhauer," he said, with a smile. 
 
 The Major nodded, but he did not seem to find 
 anything amusing in the attack. Aloes continued to 
 quote 
 
 "Elles sont faites pour commercer avec nos 
 faiblesses, avec notre folie, mais non avec noire 
 raison" 
 
 Again he looked at the Major, and again encount- 
 ered that steady searching glance. 
 
 "My dear Alfred, if I were you I should delete all 
 that." 
 
 "Isn't it true?" 
 
 "Not by any means; and even if it were, it's 
 devilish ungentlemanly." 
 
 "Ah, the unkindest cut of all I What do you 
 say, Henry?" 
 
 The Actor Man looked a trifle confused. 
 
 1 80
 
 THE CHARM OF SEX 181 
 
 "I didn't quite catch the drift of that last quotation." 
 
 "My fault," said Aloes. "I'm afraid my accent is 
 not impeccable." 
 
 "Naturally," said Henry. 
 
 Aloes translated. Henry assumed a gravely 
 judicial air. 
 
 "Of course those foreigners know a bit about 
 women," he admitted; "especially when they're 
 French." 
 
 "Why should they know more than other people?" 
 asked the Major. 
 
 "They make a speciality of that sort of thing. I 
 once went to Parry for a week." 
 
 "And you saw things," suggested Aloes. 
 
 "My word!" 
 
 "But that's not woman," said the Major. 
 
 "Precious like it," grinned Navarre. "My word ! " 
 
 He winked at the philosopher, who was biting the 
 tip of his finger in a reflective mood. 
 
 "One may see things in London," he remarked. 
 
 "Give me Parry," said the Actor Man. "There they 
 live." 
 
 "How do you know?" asked Aloes. 
 
 "Everybody knows." 
 
 "Ah! I was once in Paris for three years, and I 
 never lived at all." 
 
 "Poor devil," murmured the other. 
 
 "It's easy enough to laugh at women," said the 
 Major gravely; "perhaps it's even easier to sneer, but 
 that doesn't get us to the bottom of the matter, the 
 fundamental truth of things. In nature, where there 
 are no two features precisely similar, how can you 
 lump women in a mass ? " 
 
 "While not precisely similar," assented Navarre,
 
 182 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "there is so great a similarity as to make them, for 
 all practical purposes, one." 
 
 "There are details, of course," said Aloes. 
 
 "I lay stress on the detail," said the Major. 
 
 "The mass is made up of detail," insisted Navarre, 
 "which proves the truth of my argument. By the way, 
 Alfred, what was that chap's name who talked about 
 a ' broad-hipped, short-legged race ' ? " 
 
 "Schopenhauer." 
 
 "Shorpensour, I should call him, and a bit of an 
 ass in the bargain. What's the matter with broad 
 hips?" 
 
 " Personally I can see no objection to them unless 
 they remind me of the Dome of St. Paul's." 
 
 "And what's the matter with short legs? Who 
 wants 'em like hop poles ? " 
 
 "Perhaps he was thinking of German women," 
 suggested Aloes. 
 
 "Oh, I see. But there, you never know the kind of 
 bee a foreigner'll get in his bonnet." 
 
 "It must be awful to be a foreigner," said Aloes. 
 
 "Anyway, the chap is either an ass or a palpable 
 humbug, and I should like to tell him so." 
 
 "It would do him no end of good," said Aloes. 
 
 "Mong Dew, what does he know of women ! Our 
 call-boy at the Lane, who has only been through three 
 pantos, would tell him more about women in five 
 minutes than his books could teach him in five years. 
 I like these fellows who set themselves up as author- 
 ities, and prate about woman in the abstract and the 
 psychology of the emotions." 
 
 "You don't believe in it?" 
 
 "Lord love you, there ain't no abstract. It's nature, 
 like eating and drinking. Woman's all right if they'd
 
 THE CHARM OF SEX 188 
 
 only leave her alone, and a jolly good thing too. My 
 word ! " 
 
 The philosopher was inclined to agree with him ; 
 the Major also, but for a totally different reason. At 
 that moment, however, the sudden entrance of Betty 
 announcing that dinner was ready cut short all further 
 argument. Yet it was not a little curious how the 
 three pairs of eyes were instantly turned on her. 
 Perhaps with true feminine instinct she divined the 
 trend of their thoughts, for as she looked from one to 
 the other a slight flush spread itself over her face. 
 When she was gone they looked almost guiltily into 
 each other's eyes. Aloes was the first to speak. 
 
 "Refutation," he muttered. 
 
 "Quite so," said the actor. "She may be narrow- 
 shouldered, but I'm hanged if she's broad-hipped." 
 
 "Do you think we ought to discuss her in this 
 manner?" asked the Major; "do you think she would 
 like it?" 
 
 "Perhaps not," said Aloes. 
 
 "They don't mind that sort of thing," Navarre 
 assured them. "Sorrow is that woman's portion 
 whom man fails to discuss. Make no mistake, my 
 son : they would much rather be talked about than 
 ignored. A woman is never insulted by the imperti- 
 nence of being told that she is pretty, or that she has 
 a charming figure. They tell me that so-called high 
 personages preen themselves over the compliments of 
 the penny-a-liner. You may call them good, and 
 noble, and virtuous, and they'll think you something 
 more than a fool ; but tell them they're pretty, and 
 they'll know you for a wise and agreeable person." 
 
 "Don't you think we'd better go and eat?" sug- 
 gested the Major.
 
 184 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 Aloes seemed to move but slowly with that chapter 
 of his great work which dealt with Woman. He had 
 approached the writing of it fully primed with facts 
 and fancies, and with a clear course mapped out along 
 which he intended to travel ; but certain other facts 
 and fancies now began to assert themselves, and drove 
 him into something very like an impasse. After all 
 he might not show much wisdom in the course he had 
 intended to pursue. People more or less accepted 
 Schopenhauer just because he was Schopenhauer, as 
 they accepted many things which experience told them 
 it would be useless to fight against ; but who was 
 going to accept the dicta of Alfred Hallows ? Navarre 
 was not a wise man, but occasionally he spoke with a 
 seeming wisdom, and he had more than once struck at 
 the vulnerable parts of Aloes' armour. If Sarning 
 spoke with the faith of a child, might not he learn 
 even there ? And was not this child's wisdom a better 
 thing than any he could conjure with ? Moreover, 
 there was really much about woman that he had not 
 yet learnt. 
 
 Curious how Betty came flitting across the partly 
 written page, red hair, great eyes, pale face. Navarre 
 too had noticed that she was narrow-shouldered and 
 slight of hip. Why shouldn't he, of course. Yet in 
 a way he would rather that enterprising person had 
 not. He rather fancied the discovery was his; or, to 
 be more correct, he wanted to think of it as such, to 
 hug it as a secret deep down in the recesses of mind 
 or heart. For he was conscious of studying her as 
 neither of the other men had studied her. She was as 
 one caught wild. What she had been or what she 
 had done mattered nothing. What she might be was 
 the predominant issue. It was another phase of the
 
 THE CHARM OF SEX 185 
 
 charm of sex, one which Schopenhauer had ignored, 
 or never thought of. Deep down was a subconscious 
 thought that he had not grasped the whole possi- 
 bilities of the subject, and this was bound to have a 
 weakening effect on his argument. He who hopes to 
 gain adherents ought to be sure of his cause. Aloes 
 began to waver. It did not promise well for his 
 hopes. 
 
 Navarre approached the matter from an entirely 
 different standpoint. He was a straightforward 
 man, so he averred, and cared nothing for the 
 psychological side of woman. She may have pos- 
 sessed such a side, but that caused him no con- 
 cern. Her other attributes were quite enough for 
 him. To be sure there was more nonsense talked and 
 written about woman's character than it deserved, or 
 than she desired. Her ambition was not to be thought 
 an angel. She rather resented being placed on a 
 pedestal, unless it was with the view that the public 
 might admire her figure. Artful creature, giving with 
 apparent reluctance that which she was eager to 
 enjoy. Oh, he knew them ! Some, to be sure, placed 
 a higher value on themselves than others (clever 
 cats !), but deep down it was six of one and half-a- 
 dozen of the other. Nature cut to pattern : she never 
 made a mistake. 
 
 He was one of those men who are for ever seeing 
 possibilities in woman ; and this girl with the red hair 
 and the red lips, did she not curiously grow on one? 
 At first he saw only the sad wisp of a shabby woman, 
 and he had little liking for poverty and its mean 
 surroundings. His imagination soared to pile carpets, 
 silk hangings, soft sofas, rich dresses, jewels, the 
 sparkle of champagne. That he had to drink beer
 
 186 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 instead was rather his misfortune than his fault. 
 Retinues of servants waited on him (in imagination), 
 carrying his food on rich silver salvers, as they did 
 in the duke's house at the Lane. He told himself 
 that he could play such a part to perfection, that in 
 fact nature had wittingly designed him for such a role 
 in real life, though fate seemed to hold a different 
 opinion. No matter, the dreams were there, and the 
 knowledge that he was equal to such a life should 
 fortune ever come his way. 
 
 Therefore it was natural that his aesthetic sense 
 should not at first approve of Miss Pendleton. His 
 dream-woman would not come out of the streets on 
 a cold foggy night, gowned shabbily, with hunger- 
 staring eyes. No, it was Venus, or blushing Aurora, 
 or any other dame who lived well and showed the 
 effects of such living, to whom he was ready to offer 
 his allegiance : some one who dressed in silks and 
 wore the daintiest of Louis-Quinze shoes. But it was 
 wonderful how the girl improved on acquaintance, 
 and he flattered himself that his approbation was not 
 easy to gain. If he was anything at all he was a born 
 critic of the sex, and surely she was beginning to 
 disarm him of criticism. He noticed how the dull 
 pallor of her complexion changed to an inviting trans- 
 parency, how the drooping mouth grew fuller and 
 redder, how even the rough hair at times reminded 
 him of a warm autumn sunset. Then, too, the figure 
 assumed a rounder and a fuller grace, and when she 
 walked she swung from the hips like one who rejoiced 
 in a new-found pride. This discovery filled him with 
 amazement, almost with consternation, coming on 
 him as it did in the nature of a revelation. 
 
 His manner towards her underwent an immediate
 
 THE CHARM OF SEX 187 
 
 change. Always polite (he greatly flattered himself 
 on the possession of the quality of politeness), he 
 at times grew almost reverential. He got her a 
 ticket for the pit at Drury Lane so that she could go 
 and see him, "well down centre." He pretended that 
 his friend the manager had given it to him as a great 
 favour. As a matter of fact he bought it, an act so 
 unprofessional as to make him feel rather ashamed of 
 himself. Also he was not a little chagrined at her 
 hesitating to accept it. 
 
 "I must ask the Major," she said. He laughed as 
 though the idea were a good joke. 
 
 " Why ask him ? What's he to do with it ? " 
 
 " He may not like me to go." 
 
 " Well I'm hanged," said Navarre. " What next ! " 
 
 "Don't you understand?" she asked. 
 
 "Blowed if I do. What's he more than me, or 
 Alfred?" 
 
 "You're all very good to me," she said. 
 
 "And you're jolly good to us, so that's quits." 
 
 "Still," she answered, gently but firmly, "I ought 
 to put it to him." 
 
 "I don't see the necessity. What rot I Charles is 
 all right, dear old boy, but he doesn't run this show. 
 Good Lord, never heard of such a thing. I'll wait 
 for you and bring you home." 
 
 Nevertheless she showed the Major the ticket. 
 
 "That's good," he said brightly, "and very 
 thoughtful of Henry. I'm afraid we don't give you 
 much of a time." 
 
 "Oh, but you do," she insisted : "all I want." 
 
 "Well, well, perhaps things will brighten up 
 presently. Then we'll have some jolly outings. Quite 
 nice of Henry to think of you. He's a good sort."
 
 188 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 With all her heart she wished that he had refused 
 permission. Impersonal interest is not the kind of 
 which the sex approves. 
 
 "He promised to wait and bring me home," she 
 ventured. 
 
 "Then that will be all right," said he, his face light- 
 ing up with relief. "Of course, if he hadn't I should 
 have come for you myself." 
 
 She bit her lip with vexation. 
 
 "I'll tell him he needn't wait." 
 
 "Not on any account. It might offend him. Some 
 fellows are so touchy." 
 
 "But perhaps he would rather not wait. He may 
 have some other appointment. I can easily come home 
 alone." 
 
 "Not for the world," he said quickly. "Come 
 home alone at that time of the night ! Good gracious, 
 I never heard of such a " He stopped, hesitat- 
 ing, remembering. Fortunately he had not the 
 courage to look at her, or he would have seen a strange 
 wan smile steal round the corners of her mouth. 
 "He's a jolly good sort, Henry," he continued, cover- 
 ing his confusion with an admirable assumption of 
 nonchalance, "and it was splendid of him to remember 
 how much we owe you, and how remote are our 
 chances of paying twenty shillings in the pound." 
 
 "You pay forty," she said. 
 
 "No matter, things may brighten up presently. I 
 believe he has quite a good part, well down centre. 
 I shall go and see him myself one of these days." 
 
 "And what does the king say?" asked Navarre a 
 little later, though not without a touch of malice. 
 
 " He thinks it most kind that you should remember 
 me."
 
 THE CHARM OF SEX 189 
 
 " How good of him ! " 
 
 They went off together on the top of the old West- 
 minster bus. 
 
 "Take care of her, Henry," admonished the Major, 
 who, beaming, escorted them to the door. 
 
 "Oh, come oph your perch," was the reply. "What 
 do you take me for ? " 
 
 But the Major only laughed good-humouredly. He 
 was thinking how nice and smart Betty looked. She 
 would have felt nicer had he only told her so. 
 
 "Rum old chap," said Navarre, "but he means well. 
 Otherwise he would be too absurd." 
 
 Rum old chap indeed ! But she was thinking of 
 the man who had smitten the Nine Elms Terror. Yes, 
 he was a very rum old chap. 
 
 Henry was waiting for her at the pit door as the 
 theatre emptied. With an air of possession he slipped 
 his arm through hers and led her away. 
 
 "Well, what did you think of it? " he asked. 
 
 "It was grand!" 
 
 "How did I look?" 
 
 "Splendid!" 
 
 " I flatter myself I got everything out of the part." 
 
 "You did indeed." 
 
 He squeezed her arm affectionately. 
 
 "But you should see me as Romeo. I can tell you 
 what it is, I make 'em sit up. Did you notice how the 
 Colonel crossed in front of me ? That's done with a 
 purpose. The blighter wants to queer my pitch. 
 Jealous," he whispered. 
 
 "Of what?" she asked innocently, not quite sure 
 that she was following the trend of his remarks. 
 
 "Me! He wants to shut me out. In my modest 
 opinion that cross of his queers the whole scene.
 
 190 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 Any fool in the audience can see he does it on pur- 
 pose." 
 
 "Yes," she said, but she had not seen. No doubt 
 she was very much of a fool. 
 
 As they walked towards the Strand he stopped sud- 
 denly and looked into her face. Yes, it was a win- 
 some, alluring face. He had not been mistaken. 
 There were possibilities here of which he had never 
 dreamed. He would be kind to her in a patronizing 
 sort of way : in fact, he rather thought he would not 
 be ashamed to be seen in her company. Naturally 
 she would appreciate the honour. 
 
 "Where shall we go? " he asked suddenly. 
 
 " Home, of course." 
 
 "What's the hurry?" 
 
 "Oh but " 
 
 "You don't want to go home yet. Town is just 
 beginning to hum. Between now and closing time 
 London lives. Let us go somewhere and have a bit 
 of supper. Treasury night, you know." He laughed 
 a little constrainedly. 
 
 "I would rather not if you don't mind." 
 
 "But I just do mind, and so I insist on your 
 coming." 
 
 "Please don't put it like that. I really think we 
 had better go home." 
 
 "Why should we?" 
 
 "Perhaps the Major will be waiting," she ventured. 
 
 "Oh, hang him ! What's he to do with it, any- 
 way ? I'm getting a bit fed up with the Major. Why 
 should you think he's the only one that counts ? " 
 
 "But I don't." 
 
 "Then if that's the case we needn't trouble about 
 him. I like old Charles : he has many good points,
 
 THE CHARM OF SEX ]91 
 
 but of course he's not to be taken seriously. Between 
 
 you and me I believe he's a little " He tapped 
 
 his forehead significantly. 
 
 "You must not say that," she returned quickly. 
 
 "Well, perhaps I didn't mean it; but he is a rum 
 chap. There are times when I really don't quite know 
 what he is. I don't know what's going to become of 
 him, poor devil. Of course he'll never make headway 
 in this world. Too much of a slacker : has no life in 
 him. Sure to go under. Seems to have lost all 
 interest in life. If it wasn't for Alfred : 
 
 "Mr. Aloes is very kind." 
 
 "Yes, it's a rough husk, but the kernel's fairly 
 sound. Rather fancies himself, you know. Went to 
 Oxford and seems to think that's all that life has to 
 offer a man. I'm always sorry for a chap who has 
 nothing else to be proud of than a thing that can be 
 bought. Most demoralizin'." 
 
 As he spoke they turned up Wellington Street. 
 
 "But this is not the way," she began. 
 
 "It's our way," he replied. "I'm going to take 
 you to supper whether you like it or not. If we were 
 only a bit smarter we might go to the Chorus Girls' 
 Paradise." 
 
 "Where's that?" 
 
 "The Savoy. You'd cut a dash there, Betty, and 
 you deserve it. I often think your life with us must 
 be too dull for words. I'm not going to have any 
 more of it." 
 
 She would have protested further but for fear of 
 offending him ; and so they walked on until they came 
 to a cheap foreign restaurant which he assured her 
 gave the best supper in London at the price, which 
 was a modest two shillings. This he entered with the
 
 192 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 air of one who was accustomed to do things in the 
 grand style, nodded familiarly to the padrone, and 
 ordered a bottle of sparkling Moselle. 
 
 "You want something to buck you up," he said. 
 
 The place was crowded with a nondescript gather- 
 ing of men and girls, mostly from the adjacent 
 theatres. Many eyes were turned their way, and he 
 nodded almost condescendingly to sundry clean- 
 shaven acquaintances, not all of whom had been care- 
 ful to remove the make-up. Indeed, as she looked 
 across the table at him she saw that the black was still 
 upon his eyes, the rouge still upon his cheeks. This 
 accounted for the red stains on his pillow. 
 
 "These chaps wonder who I've got hold of." He 
 laughed joyously. "You look charming, my dear. 
 A glass of wine. I want to see your eyes sparkle. 
 What wonderful eyes they are." 
 
 He filled her glass and passed it over to her, but 
 she only sipped it. He protested. She sipped again. 
 
 "I want to see those mysterious caverns light up," 
 he said. "Where that light catches your hair it shines 
 like gold. By my faith, Betty, you're wasting yourself. 
 You ought to be on the stage. Musical comedy. Can 
 you sing?" She shook her head. "I'm sure you 
 can quite well enough for that. Few of 'em can 
 sing, and none of 'em can speak. As for acting 
 my word ! But you won't want to act with that face. 
 Piquant, charming. No idea you were such a 
 beauty." 
 
 "Please, Mr. Navarre I " 
 
 She was blushing now, and looking inconceivably 
 pretty. His eyes rarely left her face. Expressive 
 eyes he thought them. She thought them disgusting. 
 They reminded her of of what she had made up her
 
 THE CHARM OF SEX 193 
 
 mind to forget. The Major never looked at her like 
 that, nor Mr. Aloes. Yet she was conscious that it 
 would be perfectly ridiculous of her to protest. That 
 was the pity of it. 
 
 "We must do something for you," he continued 
 seriously. "B'George, you mustn't go on with this 
 drudgery. It isn't fair, when you might easily be 
 earning twenty pounds a week. I must see about it, 
 Betty. It's downright selfishness." 
 
 Two or three of his friends came up to the table and 
 spoke to him. One, a blotchy-faced man, looked 
 hard at her with wicked muddy eyes. 
 
 "That's Rufford, one of our comedians," he ex- 
 plained as the fellow slouched off. "Awful dog." 
 
 "He looks like a pig," she said. Navarre laughed 
 immoderately. 
 
 "So he is," he said. "Hit it in one." 
 
 He took her home in a taxi. 
 
 "Treasury night," he whispered again : "ghost 
 walking. Live like a duke for ten minutes. You 
 ought to have a car of your own, Betty." She gave 
 a little sob, as though something was choking her. 
 He thought it was a sigh of regret, and his arm 
 slipped round her waist. "This is all right," he 
 whispered. 
 
 She could have screamed aloud. Of a sudden she 
 was possessed of an overwhelming desire to smack 
 his face. Yet she made no outward protest. Who 
 was she to resent so slight a thing? 
 
 The Major was waiting for them at the top of the 
 stairs. 
 
 "Ah," he said, as if relieved, "you've come. I've 
 got a bit of supper for you." He smiled into her 
 eyes in the old, kind, thoughtful way. 
 
 N
 
 194 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Not necessary, dear old boy," cried Navarre 
 cheerily. "We've been to supper and come home in a 
 taxi. Did ourselves well, my word ! " 
 
 "That was thoughtful of you, Henry," said the 
 other gravely. 
 
 "What have you prepared?" she asked anxiously. 
 
 "Oh, just a trifle. There was a bit of cheese left, 
 so I made a Welsh rarebit. Thought you might 
 want it, you know." He smiled, but rather wistfully. 
 
 "Cook it yourself?" asked Navarre, with a grin. 
 
 "Well, you see," he answered hesitatingly ? apolo- 
 getically, "I had nothing else to do, and I didn't know 
 you were going to take Betty out. Of course, 
 now " 
 
 "Eat it yourself, old bird. Betty's had something 
 better than Welsh rarebits." 
 
 "It was awfully thoughtful of you, Henry," he 
 said. 
 
 But she caught a look in his eyes that made her 
 lips quiver. 
 
 " I won't go again," she whispered.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE MAJOR SEES A GHOST 
 
 IT was not a little singular that they should all 
 pay her compliments with the solitary exception of 
 him whose compliments would have been worth them 
 all. Yet he, thoughtless soul, never dreamt that com- 
 pliment was necessary, unless his whole conduct 
 towards her might be regarded as such. Plainly, 
 enough in its way, and yet not enough for the occa- 
 sion. Words have their value no less than deeds, 
 especially to a woman, and in this matter of words 
 he was sadly lacking. 
 
 She did her best to explain how she came to go 
 to supper with Navarre : yet he did not seem to think 
 an explanation necessary. He repeated that it was 
 extremely kind and thoughtful of Henry, that he was 
 really a good chap at heart, and that he, the Major, 
 feared she must find things a bit dull at times. Nor 
 did her vehement declaration that she was never dull 
 seem to affect his argument. They must seem poor 
 old fogies to her, he said, and were happy to think 
 that she should enjoy herself. She did not tell him 
 how little she had enjoyed the outing, because it 
 would have seemed like ingratitude ; but inwardly she 
 vowed that never again would she go to supper with 
 the Actor Man. 
 "Yes," he repeated, the repetition setting her nerves 
 
 N 2 195
 
 196 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 a-jangling, "Henry is a good chap, and very kind. 
 He seems to know how to do a graceful thing 
 gracefully." 
 
 "I would rather have had your Welsh rarebit," 
 she said boldly. 
 
 "No, would you, really! Well now, that's very 
 nice of you. But just think how badly it would com- 
 pare with the gorgeous spread provided by Henry. 
 Why, I cooked it myself ! " 
 
 "That's why," she said. 
 
 He showed a curious sort of surprise at this : yet 
 her glance met his unfalteringly. 
 
 "That's very nice of you, Betty, but I'm afraid you 
 flatter me." 
 
 "We are not a flattering pair," she replied, for come 
 what might she must express something of the 
 thought that was in her, ease that strange pent-up 
 pain in her breast. 
 
 "Why should we flatter who understand each 
 other?" 
 
 "Why, of course." 
 
 Did he see, or was he incapable of seeing? Yet 
 subterfuge was not one of those qualities which she 
 associated with him. Rather was it the straightfor- 
 ward nature of him which had appealed to her 
 throughout. Strange that he should be so curiously 
 unlike the others unlike most men. Even Aloes, 
 whom she had at first considered an uncompromising 
 enemy, had proved to be singularly human. Perhaps 
 he did not really care for her, beyond the fact that 
 he seemed to care for all creatures that were cornered 
 
 by mischance. Or perhaps he thought Yet she 
 
 was conscious of having been good, very good, since 
 she had been with them, and her starved soul yearned
 
 197 
 
 for approbation. Not that they were chary of praise, 
 or failed to show how greatly they appreciated her 
 presence among them. Only it was not just the kind 
 of praise for which she hungered. 
 
 About this period Henry grew singularly attentive. 
 Exuberantly he promised her another outing. That 
 last supper, so he declared, was but the beginning 
 of things. They would have some jolly times 
 presently. Even the Savoy was not beyond his 
 dreams. But though she said nothing she wanted 
 neither him nor the Savoy. He was a nice chap, 
 as Sarning so often and so strenuously declared, but 
 was nice in the way she did not altogether appreciate. 
 There were possibilities in him which she dreaded; 
 a gulf between him and the others which no amount 
 of sophistry could bridge. 
 
 In the meantime the Major never neglected to take 
 her out for the accustomed walk; though once, the 
 whim being on her, she refused to leave the house 
 for a whole week. Then he grew authoritative, in- 
 sisted, and in her heart she welcomed his firmness. 
 If he were only so firm with her always, always. 
 Yet he never seemed to realize his power. Bob Lang- 
 ford would have made her crawl at his feet. Bob 
 Langford ! What a hideous nightmare ! 
 
 It was during one of their walks through Kensing- 
 ton Gardens that the incident occurred. They had 
 been watching some children sail their miniature 
 boats, a pastime to which the Major was particularly 
 addicted. In all that pertained to children or their 
 pleasures he took a vital interest; and so well known 
 was he to the little yachtsmen that most of them 
 brought their toy craft to him for repairs. It was 
 the same if a kite failed to rise, or showed a tendency
 
 398 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 to lopsidedness. Instantly he discovered the reason 
 and set it right. Stray dogs would creep up to him, 
 look in his face, and then lick his hand. One fair- 
 haired boy in particular, a tiny little chap of four, 
 had become such good friends with him that imme- 
 diately upon spying the long, gaunt figure he would 
 bolt from his nurse and hail him with his shrill treble, 
 " Major, Major ! " for the child had heard Betty call 
 him Major. He was a talkative little fellow, and 
 used to trail a little red ship at the end of a string, 
 much to the consternation of his nurse, who would 
 come bustling after him, apologizing, and protesting 
 that "Sir Charles was a regular handful," though 
 when she forgot his dignity she called him "Master 
 Charlie." The Major smiled at the little fellow and 
 told him that his name also was Charlie, and that he 
 believed all Charlies were regular handfuls. And one 
 day the child informed him that he had told mummy 
 all about the Major, at which the Major blinked 
 solemnly in return. All about him ! He wondered 
 what mummy would think if she knew. 
 
 One day as Betty and he, returning from the Pond, 
 were about to cross the road opposite the tea-house, 
 they drew up on the footpath to let a carriage pass; 
 when Betty, touching him quickly on the elbow, said, 
 "Look, your little friend ! My word, he is a swell ! " 
 The Major looked up as she spoke, but the child, 
 who was seated in the carriage with a lady, had 
 already recognized him, and was waving a little white 
 gloved hand. Off went the Major's hat, while a 
 pleased smile began to break over his face. Began, 
 I say, for as his eyes encountered those of the lady 
 it faded away; he grew deathly pale and began to 
 tremble violently. The woman, too, had started,
 
 THE MAJOR SEES A GHOST 199 
 
 leant forward, and then sunk back, her own face 
 betraying confusion and alarm. 
 
 "My God I " Betty heard him mutter. 
 
 She followed his gaze as he looked after the 
 carriage, a strange, suspicious look in her eyes. 
 
 "You know her?" 
 
 "Who would have thought it! " 
 
 "You know her?" she repeated almost savagely. 
 
 "I used to once. Yes once," he mumbled in a 
 confused, wandering sort of way. Then he caught 
 her by the arm and hurried her across the road. 
 
 "Well, why didn't she stop and speak to you? " 
 
 "She couldn't do that." 
 
 " Not good enough for her, I suppose ? " 
 
 "Hush! You don't understand. It's all so long 
 ago and I was different then." 
 
 "I don't think much of people who forget old 
 friends." 
 
 "But it's so long ago and you don't understand, 
 my dear and and she may not have recognized 
 me." 
 
 "Oh, didn't she ! I saw her start and turn pale." 
 
 "Turn pale, did she ! " He looked eagerly at her, 
 then stopped short and bit his lip. 
 
 "Yes, I saw her." 
 
 She saw more. She saw a particularly handsome 
 woman, dressed to perfection, a pair of horses with 
 shining coats and flashing harness, two men on the 
 box, and other evidences of wealth, and in a moment 
 her soul grew hot with rage and jealousy. Then she 
 looked at the long shabby figure by her side with 
 a sense of the utmost gratification. There were 
 worlds between them whole wide worlds. 
 
 Sarning hurried along staring straight before him,
 
 200 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 apparently seeing nothing, hearing nothing. Yet she 
 knew that he was looking into that woman's eyes, 
 that he still heard the crunch of wheels, the jingle of 
 flashing harness. 
 
 Never had the girl known such a dull homeward 
 journey. Usually her companion regaled her with 
 philosophic disquisition, interesting anecdote, and 
 here and there a seemly jest; but to-day he walked 
 along with a swift nervous action, his eyes assidu- 
 ously searching the pavement, but not for a stray 
 coin. Though his eyes were on the flags beneath 
 him it was painfully apparent that his thoughts were 
 in the clouds, or wandering through the dim vista of 
 half-forgotten things. Nor dared she rouse him, but 
 with the world grown suddenly dark walked noise- 
 lessly by his side. Occasionally she stole a timid 
 glance upward ; a dozen times she was about to speak 
 of that which was throbbing in her breast and con- 
 fusing her brain, yet some strange perversity with- 
 held her. It was not fear, it was not even the thought 
 of fear, but a kind of smouldering hatred and jealousy 
 which awoke a strange unusual pride. 
 
 For her the next three days held many bitter 
 moments. During the whole of that period he never 
 mentioned this meeting with the strange woman, nor 
 did he ask Betty to go walking with him. He went 
 out as usual in the morning, returning at all hours, 
 and while he was away her brain ran riot with con- 
 jecture. But on the fourth day he seemed to regain 
 much of his philosophic calm, and asked her to go 
 out with him. She shook her head, she was not feel- 
 ing well, she was tired. A dozen lame excuses leapt 
 to her lips. 
 
 "Of course you are not well," he said. "You have
 
 THE MAJOR SEES A GHOST 201 
 
 not been out for days. Come, we shall soon be 
 having you invalided, and what will happen to us 
 then ? " 
 
 She went, of course. Strong as she was, she was 
 not strong enough to repel those earnest, anxious eyes. 
 
 "Betty," he said, as they walked the quiet Bel- 
 gravian Squares, "I have negotiated a maelstrom of 
 doubt and suspicion. After all, in most cases a man 
 is what he makes himself. There are heights to 
 which he may not rise, depths to which he may not 
 sink. Hopes, and no hopes, what do they all amount 
 to in the sum of things? What a perverse set of 
 creatures we are. Though I were to sigh for the 
 stars, little girl, do you think they would ever come 
 down to me ? " 
 
 "You might rise to them," she replied, thinking of 
 one star that had flashed by to the jingling accom- 
 paniment of glittering harness. 
 
 "They are too far off, and even if they were not, 
 who could say that we should be the happier for 
 reaching them ? " 
 
 "What do you mean by the ' stars ' ? " she asked. 
 
 "The higher things of life, or what we call the 
 higher things. Opinions differ as to what they may* 
 be ; yet in our own circumscribed environment, in the 
 firmament, as it were, of our imagination, the glitter- 
 ing symbol still lures us. And it is still as far off 
 as those other glittering points of the material 
 heavens." 
 
 "Why sigh for that which cannot be reached when 
 so much is within your grasp ? " 
 
 "A very practical suggestion conveying a sense of 
 much wisdom. Yet man is ever like that, foolishly 
 stretching from the finite to the infinite."
 
 202 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Some men seize that which is near their hands. 
 Are they not wise ? " 
 
 "In their own way, yes; but some men do not 
 possess the fatal gift of imagination. Most of them 
 do not soar beyond the hopes that gold can buy." 
 
 "And women?" 
 
 "I like to think of women as being different." 
 
 "But they're not," she said decisively. "Gold will 
 buy them too. I ought to know." She was thinking 
 of the woman who had flashed by amid all the 
 evidence of wealth. Perhaps gold had also bought 
 her ! It did most things. 
 
 The Major said never a word. Perhaps the shaft, 
 launched in the darkness, had found its mark. 
 Reflectively he filled a pipe and lit it. The girl was 
 beginning to think ! It was some satisfaction to know 
 that his educational efforts had not been wasted. He 
 who teaches the ignorant not infrequently prepares 
 a rod for his own back. Yet it was a genuine source 
 of pride to him to see how her mind was beginning 
 to expand, even though it seemed to catch some tone 
 of Alfred's cynicism. Alfred had said that the poor 
 man who thought must of necessity be a potential 
 revolutionary, if not actually upon the active list, and 
 that it was a lucky thing for certain people the 
 majority of men knew no envy but that of gold. 
 But then Alfred was not to be taken seriously. 
 Cassandras never are. He could not fathom 
 the infinity of littleness in the soul of the average 
 person. 
 
 He walked on soberly by her side. Occasionally, 
 in the flash of a street lamp, she stole a glance up at 
 him and knew that his thoughts were in the clouds, 
 and that he was peopling them with by-gone faces and 
 things. And as if in answer to her mute interroga-
 
 THE MAJOR SEES A GHOST 203 
 
 tories he presently looked down into her face and 
 slipped his arm confidingly through hers. 
 
 "Thoughts cling," said he, "and memories linger 
 in the quiet backwaters; but the main stream still 
 rushes on without cessation, and if we are wise we 
 will let it carry us along. I don't mind admitting 
 to you, little girl, that the sight of that woman's face 
 recalled many memories which I have long since 
 counted as dead, which I hoped were dead. It all 
 happened so long ago, when I was not what I am 
 now. Well, what does it'matter? No vicissitude of 
 fortune can shock me now : the old campaigner is 
 indifferent to climate or condition. He sleeps as well, 
 or as ill, beneath the gun-carriage as in a bed of down. 
 If it wasn't for the dreams, Betty, if it only wasn't 
 for the dreams ! " 
 
 She, too, had her dreams, dreams of the past, 
 dreams of the future. At times the one seemed very 
 real, very near; the other was momentarily fading away 
 in the distance. Her grasp on life was loosening. 
 
 "She treated you badly?" was her bold venture. 
 
 "She! Oh, no. Perhaps she was wiser than 
 either of us dreamed." 
 
 "She seemed cold and full of pride." 
 
 She seemed a thousand things to the girl's vivid 
 imagination ; but above all she hated her for her 
 horses and her carriage, her laces and her silks. 
 
 "It's all so long ago," he repeated. "I don't think 
 we need discuss it further. Just the width of the 
 poles between it all, and memories that sear and 
 sting. I had not even your excuse. I wonder if fate 
 is a living entity after all, she seems to possess so 
 many human attributes. Heigho," he muttered as he 
 thoughtfully knocked the ashes from his pipe, " I have 
 only seen a ghost."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE MAJOR'S SECRET 
 
 RELYING on that good sense and infinite determina- 
 tion with which he believed himself to be endowed, 
 Charles Sarning, in his aimless peregrinations, studi- 
 ously avoided Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. 
 Moreover, he devoted himself more assiduously to 
 the making of money, either by speculation on the 
 erratic running of the thoroughbred, or the more 
 solid, if equally unremunerative, literary labours. 
 Whereas the one did occasionally add a nice little 
 sum to his meagre store of the currency, the other 
 was a mistress of the utmost parsimony. Which no 
 doubt was good for him, and meant to inculcate the 
 necessary quality of prudence and honest toil. The 
 pity was that such good intentions were always frus- 
 trated by the nature of the man. He seemed to have 
 no knowledge of what is called the value of money, 
 and therefore never rightly appreciated that excellent 
 characteristic in others. Aloes, who was possessed of 
 a somewhat similar temperament, frequently up- 
 braided him for his want of thrift and foresight; 
 though nothing could shake the Major's belief that in 
 upbraiding him Alfred was merely castigating him- 
 self. You should do this, or you should do that, my 
 dear fellow, he would say. "Money is a bird with 
 the most powerful wings, which are only used to bear 
 
 204
 
 THE MAJOR'S SECRET 205 
 
 it in one direction, and that is not towards you. You 
 really should be more careful to remember that your 
 best friend is your own purse. The man with the 
 banking account is the man who walks with his chin 
 up. You'll never have a farthing while you punt on 
 the probable chances of a race. You see, you don't 
 know where you are. The owner is in the hands of 
 his trainer, the trainer in those of the jockey, the 
 jockey in those of the bookmaker, and the bookmaker 
 is in those of the devil. So where is an honest man ? 
 By the way, I wonder if Double X can win the Two 
 Thousand ? " 
 
 But there was no doubt of the Major's determina- 
 tion not to encounter a second time the Lady of the 
 Park. Betty, watching, knew that such was the case, 
 and in her heart she was glad. The poles were 
 between them, he had said : she longed for something 
 more definite than the poles, which were certainly of 
 this world; something with which this world had no 
 concern, over which it had no jurisdiction. And in a 
 way she rejoiced in his poverty, his mean room, his 
 shabby clothes. She did not associate poverty in 
 any form with the woman of the carriage. Poverty 
 being the most hateful of all the vices, there was 
 yet hope. 
 
 And indeed, Charles Sarning fought strenuously, 
 turning heroically his face from the light. Yet the 
 light lures, though it be nothing but a will-o'-the-wisp 
 skimming the marshlands. Thought would come, 
 hope revive, or seem to. He knew, of course, that it 
 was dead : he would have it dead, dead utterly. Even 
 the stirring of a feeble pulse was in reality but a 
 stirring of the imagination ! 
 
 The long dark winter dragged on : he was glad of
 
 206 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 the dull short days. In his spare moments he worked 
 doggedly at a novel. Every person had at least one 
 novel in him, it was said; and every one knew that 
 there was money in a novel that is, every one but 
 the novelist. Aloes read the first chapter and sighed : 
 the second and third made him groan as with a deadly 
 pain. Poor Charles was not a novelist; a philosopher 
 if you will, but not a novelist. He would need to 
 possess a stupendous reputation to father such incon- 
 sequences. But, dear fellow, he could not tell him so : 
 not for worlds would he corrupt that delightful sim- 
 plicity. The genius who had faked the paragraph 
 concerning the Princess Madeline showed none of that 
 ingenuity in the more ambitious effort. His ramblings 
 amazed Aloes, until he actually began to wonder if the 
 man were really a genius after all. Why, he asked 
 himself, should the novel, like the play, be machine- 
 made? Why should anything be what it is? But 
 is it ? There was at least one consolation : he had 
 little fear that the book would ever be finished. With- 
 out doubt it was foredoomed to a place in the cata- 
 logue of the Might-Have-Beens like his own great 
 work. 
 
 Henry, instead of having to go to the provinces, 
 had been playing a demon in the panto, and well he 
 acquitted himself, considering that there was no lime- 
 light, and that all his scenes were played in the dark. 
 Truly he made a robust and strenuous demon. Never 
 was a better seen on the stage at the Lane, so he 
 averred. If they hadn't cut out his song in the first 
 act, and his big scene in the second, he would have 
 made a reputation in demons that would have been 
 hard to beat. Jealousy, of course : one had to put 
 up with that sort of thing in the profession. That
 
 THE MAJOR'S SECRET 207 
 
 song about his mother-in-law was screamingly funny. 
 A demon with a mother-in-law would have taken the 
 town. 
 
 The Major took Betty to see him, but neither of 
 them was able to discover him or his part. This was 
 distinctly unfortunate, especially when, later in the 
 evening, he plied them with questions, the first of 
 which was " How did I look ? " Fortunately he had 
 so much to say that he did not seem to notice their 
 evasions. In his description of what might, or should, 
 have been, there was no room for what was. He had 
 endeavoured to persuade Betty to apply for an engage- 
 ment at the Lane, but neither Aloes nor Sarning would 
 hear of it. Henry declared that they were standing 
 in the girl's light, ruining her chance of a lucrative 
 living, and that, having nothing better in view for 
 her, it was their duty to further an honourable career 
 by any and every means. So much was admitted : 
 they even put it to the girl, but she displayed no 
 ambition of a histrionic nature. Henry wagged a 
 solemn head. It was a wilful waste of magnificent 
 possibilities. 
 
 As for the girl, she scarcely gave it a moment's 
 consideration. Having no real knowledge of those 
 possibilities, they did not appeal to her. Henry's 
 declarations seemed on a par with all his other 
 exaggerations. Something wonderful was always 
 about to happen, only it never did. Wonderful things 
 rarely happen except to other people. And she had 
 much to occupy both hands and mind. There was the 
 Major, for example. She knew without being told 
 that he had determined to banish all thought of that 
 other woman, and she saw how sturdily he was stick- 
 ing to that determination. Accordingly she worked
 
 208 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 with a will, cheered by a more or less contented mind. 
 Taken altogether, that sudden encounter was not the 
 misfortune she had imagined. It had shown up 
 clearly the line between the two the line which might 
 not be crossed. 
 
 Nevertheless the old memory still lingered, and in 
 the brighter dawn of the New Year he found it give 
 forth fresh shoots, green hopes. Nervously he pene- 
 trated the old haunts. She was calling to him, calling, 
 ever calling. It would be delightful to look into her 
 clear calm eyes, to listen again to that voice which 
 rang like music through his dreams. Dreams, such 
 dreams ! And the raucous voice of Ma Nuttall awoke 
 him from them ! His spirit seemed impregnated with 
 the Ma Nuttalls of the lower world. Babylon is 
 fallen, fallen : the sand of the desert has covered the 
 green places, choked the sweet waters. 
 
 He knew he should not have the courage to meet 
 her : he was ready to fly at the first approach of danger. 
 Yet, unseen, he might behold her at a distance. He was 
 conscious of being sadly disappointed in discovering 
 no traces of her. That night he made Betty happy by 
 taking a longer walk than usual, and in the betrayal 
 of an uncommon sympathy. 
 
 "The stars in their courses fight against me," he 
 muttered. "I am as one utterly cast out." 
 
 But for that strange sense of honour, that quix- 
 otism of his, much might have happened then. ' The 
 leaven of the world was fermenting in his blood : it 
 needed the nicely adjusted sense to control it. The 
 man fought with the god and was beaten. The 
 pitiful little creature by his side ! He stung with the 
 thought of it : it seared him as fire sears the stubble 
 of the field. Oh, but this thing we call life was an
 
 THE MAJOR'S SECRET 209 
 
 amazing problem. At times he was almost ashamed 
 of it. 
 
 Yet he went again and again, returning upon each 
 occasion with a keener sense of disappointment. He 
 called philosophy to the rescue, and called in vain : 
 he invoked the aid of nebulous gods. Around him 
 the great world roared and rushed and clashed. He 
 was like a spar adrift upon the wide ocean. And then 
 he went once more (it should be the last time), and 
 from among the trees he beheld a little figure rushing 
 towards him, and a shrill treble cried, "Major, 
 Major," with evident delight. His little friend had 
 found him, and there was great joy in the meeting. 
 
 "Mummy is with me," said the child : "look, she is 
 coming." 
 
 He looked and saw her approach, a stately woman 
 wrapped in dark furs, for there was more than a 
 suspicion of chill in the air. He was conscious of a 
 violent trembling : yet he stood before her with bared, 
 bowed head. Frankly she gave him her hand, frankly 
 she looked at him w r ith her clear calm eyes. 
 
 " Is it not strange ? " she said. 
 
 "Strange," he muttered, half interrogatively, half 
 reflectively. 
 
 " That you should have made friends with my boy." 
 
 "He's a splendid little man." 
 
 So they met after long years. 
 
 " He has told me of you," she said. " I have come 
 to thank you." 
 
 "To thank me! " 
 
 She seemed to read much more in the words than he 
 might possibly have meant, for a quick, almost imper- 
 ceptible flush passed over her pale face. 
 
 "I have a new boat, Major," said the boy; "it runs 
 o
 
 210 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 by machinery. Mummy has promised that I shall sail 
 it when the weather gets warmer. Will you come and 
 sail it with me?" 
 
 The man and the woman looked at each other. It 
 was that look of understanding which is born of deep 
 knowledge, which is only possible between a man and 
 a woman. 
 
 "Rather," he said: "I shall be delighted." But 
 his glance told her otherwise. 
 
 "It's a bootiful ship," said the child, "all red and 
 blue." 
 
 "I am sure it is, little man. We will sail it together 
 when the days grow brighter." 
 
 The child capered on ahead of them. 
 
 "Things have not gone very well with me," he said, 
 suddenly remembering his shabby-genteel appear- 
 ance. " Perhaps you would rather not " 
 
 "Nonsense. I came to see you." 
 
 "That was kind of you." 
 
 " I have come many times." 
 
 "Still more than kind of you." 
 
 "Still unforgiving?" she said. 
 
 "I! I who have gone down into hell! What 
 have I to forgive ? You were wise you were always 
 wise and I always a fool. I suppose the fool must 
 be necessary in the scheme of creation there are so 
 many of him. You are happy ? " She did not answer. 
 "I hope you are happy. He is good to you?" 
 
 " Did you not know ? " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "He is dead." 
 
 "I am sorry." 
 
 She looked at him, but the steadfast eyes met hers 
 unflinchingly. For a moment her lip quivered.
 
 THE MAJOR'S SECRET 211 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 "Just what you might have expected. When a man 
 deliberately throws away his chance it never comes 
 again. It is fate, and I accept it." 
 
 "You were always too ready to accept fate," she 
 answered, with some touch of asperity. 
 
 " I think so. Yet nature moulded me : never could 
 I mould nature. It is a thousand pities." 
 
 "And now?" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "Did you think I was dead?" 
 
 "To me yes. Oh, I have learned to bear it all," 
 he added quickly, seeing that she was about to speak. 
 "There is a certain philosophic calm which is bred 
 by despair; peace after turmoil, hope in the end. I 
 have gone down since those days." 
 
 "Whose fault was that?" Again was that sharp, 
 querulous note. 
 
 "Mine. I am not asking for pity. Perhaps I have 
 known more peace in rags," swiftly he passed his 
 long fingers down his shabby coat, "than I ever knew 
 in riches. Yes, I was a fool, and something worse. I 
 flung away all and you." 
 
 "Could I " she began. But he cut her short. 
 
 "No, you could not marry a fool, a gambler, and 
 a " he hesitated "a drunkard. Oh, I have learned 
 not even to shirk that accusation. I am not blaming 
 you. You were very wise. No one knows better 
 than I how wise you were." 
 
 "Yet there were times " she began again. 
 
 "There are always times," he said, "only we do 
 not all of us know how to make use of them. That's 
 the pity of it." 
 
 "You still think hardly of me?" 
 
 O 2
 
 212 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 " I have only thought of you in one way, and there 
 has been no hardness in my thinking. Years have 
 proved that you were right. I always knew that 
 you were right, only at times even that which is 
 right seems hard. No, you mustn't think that because 
 I threw away my own chances I go about hating those 
 who have made the most of theirs. I won't deny that 
 I have had my hours of remorse, but know it right 
 that I should have them. Sometimes as I slink along 
 the street I see a friend of other days go by. He does 
 not know me, of course; how should he recognize 
 in the shabby, shambling outcast the comrade who 
 jingled glasses with him at mess; the man who ran 
 his horses at Ascot, the man who Sometimes 
 I read their names in the papers, and then I think. 
 No, I'm not to be envied then. But, thank God, 
 I've learned my lesson." 
 
 He was looking straight before him with wide 
 pitiful eyes. The child's treble brought him back 
 to realities. 
 
 "Why are you crying, mummy?" 
 
 "Hush," she whispered; "I am not crying." 
 
 "Oh, but you are," he insisted. "Did he do it?" 
 
 Defiantly he glared up at the enemy, who, looking 
 down, thought those eyes wonderfully like hers. 
 
 "Brave little man," he said. 
 
 The mother drew the boy in against her and caressed 
 him with loving hands ; but her eyes, which were still 
 suspiciously moist, sought those of Major Sarning 
 with a steady look. 
 
 "I'm sorry," he muttered : "I did not know." 
 
 "That I could feel?" 
 
 "I'm afraid that I was always more than a trifle 
 thoughtless. Forgive me. It has lost me heaven."
 
 THE MAJOR'S SECRET 213 
 
 Perhaps she understood his meaning, perhaps she 
 but partly guessed at it. Her eyes grew luminously 
 soft, but he did not see them. It appeared as though 
 he saw other things in the distance, dim shadowy 
 substances that flitted out of nowhere into nothing- 
 ness. 
 
 "Ah, Charles, it might all have been so different." 
 
 "So many things might be different," he said. "Yet 
 you were wise in your choice." 
 
 "You did not think so once." 
 
 "All my ungenerous thoughts are dead," he replied. 
 "The lesson was a hard one, but I have learnt it. I 
 do not blame you I have never really blamed you. 
 Of course, it seemed doubly hard that you also should 
 turn on me when the knock came, but I was worthy 
 of no consideration." 
 
 "You did not ask for it. Of your own will you set 
 me free." 
 
 The pale ghost of a smile flitted over his haggard 
 face, the memory of a hope, the losing of which was 
 like death. 
 
 "Yes, that is so. Could I do less? " 
 
 "It all seemed so hopeless," she said. 
 
 "And was." 
 
 "Yet I would have come to you had you asked." 
 
 "I could not do that even though your coming 
 might have meant my salvation." 
 
 She uttered a quick little choking sob. 
 
 " I have never ceased to regret it." 
 
 "There is no cause. Even in those old days I knew 
 they thought it foolish of you to be bothered with a 
 fool. Fool I was, and fool I shall be to the end. Well, 
 I have had my punishment. Sometimes it has seemed 
 more than a little hard, but I have no complaints about
 
 214 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 its justice. A man learns much in adversity, chief 
 of which is a just appreciation of his own value. At 
 all events there is no pretence now, no friendship that 
 has not been genuinely won. The coat no longer 
 counts that used to count so much." 
 
 " Then you are happy ? " 
 
 He smiled ever so sadly, a smile that had in it a 
 lingering suspicion of regret. 
 
 "My happiness went with you, Marion. Your par- 
 don," he added quickly: "I forgot myself. The old 
 name seemed to come so naturally." 
 
 " Why should it not be Marion ? " 
 
 "There is so much between." 
 
 "Long stretches of memory," she said, "that bridge 
 it all." 
 
 His gaunt frame shook with a nervous tremor. It 
 was the maze of those long stretches of memory which 
 bewildered him. Serious eyes strove to pierce them 
 as though they would find a way out. 
 
 "You do not look at me," she said. 
 
 Thus challenged, he looked into her eyes, and stead- 
 fastly she met his glance. Pure and calm as of old, 
 he thought, yet something strange withal. 
 
 "The years have not dimmed them," he said. 
 
 " Nor the tears ? " 
 
 "You have shed tears?" 
 
 "Perhaps. They say it is a woman's lot." 
 
 "But you were so happy you did so well for 
 yourself ! " 
 
 "So well," she echoed. 
 
 "I often read your name in the papers as being 
 here and there, giving this ball or that party. You 
 cannot imagine what infinite joy I found in the 
 perusal. Then you went abroad."
 
 THE MAJOR'S SECRET 215 
 
 " He accepted an appointment in the Colonies." 
 
 " I know." 
 
 "My boy was born out there." 
 
 "I heard of the popularity of his Excellency." 
 
 She looked up sharply as though detecting some 
 faint note of cynicism, but if such were his intention 
 she could discover no trace of it in his face. He 
 knew that she had queened it out in that distant 
 country, and he knew that no woman could better 
 play the part. Also there was forced upon him the 
 contrast between them, a contrast which pained by its 
 excessive refinement of cruelty. 
 
 "And you ? " she asked, as if reading his thoughts. 
 
 "It would scarcely profit you to know." 
 
 "Shall I judge?" 
 
 "I have no defence." 
 
 "Proud as ever," she muttered. 
 
 He smiled at this. Proud ! He thought of Ma 
 Nuttall and the unpaid rent, the hungry days and 
 the cold nights, and the absurd pretence of well-doing. 
 Of Alfred and Henry and Betty : of shabby clothes 
 and worn boots : of a thousand ills that he had tried 
 to bear with patience. If she only knew if she could 
 only guess ! 
 
 It seemed incongruous that he, the shabby outcast, 
 should be pacing this fresh sweet world with her. 
 Yet every moment spent in her company was an 
 exquisite delight, an infinite pain. Though he had 
 schooled himself to renounce even the joy of recollec- 
 tion, he could not banish the vision of those sweet 
 eyes. For him there were no other eyes in the whole 
 wide world : for love of those eyes he had borne his 
 cross with humility; because of them he honoured 
 all women. And now he was looking into them once
 
 216 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 again. It was as though the dead had returned to 
 life; as though out of the weird vast spaces of 
 eternity the glowing form of thought took human 
 shape. 
 
 "You have married ? " she asked. He looked at her 
 in blank amazement. "That was your wife with 
 you ? " 
 
 He shook his head. "I shall never marry now." 
 
 Another might have wondered why she put the 
 question, have discovered in it some tone of anxiety. 
 He only thought it strange that she should ask it. 
 
 "Charles." 
 
 He trembled violently. The years rolled back with 
 a clash, and looking into them his eyes grew suddenly 
 moist. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Is it all dead?" 
 
 He bit his lip as he turned away. 
 
 "All." 
 
 "And so your pride still drives you on ? " 
 
 It seemed strange that he should be accused of 
 pride. 
 
 "I have no pride," he said : "only a memory." 
 
 "You still hate me!" 
 
 Hate her ! He held wide his arms as if to show 
 the whole of his gaunt shabby person. 
 
 "Look at me," he said: "does pride masquerade 
 like this, or hate live without hope ? " 
 
 "Perhaps there is hope," she replied in a low 
 voice. 
 
 But that he would not hear. He had suffered so 
 much through illusion : he would have no more of it. 
 
 "We have parted company," he answered slowly, 
 like one who has long accepted the inevitable, and is
 
 THE MAJOR'S SECRET 217 
 
 determined that no specious lure shall lead him back 
 again. 
 
 "You do not think of me." 
 
 "It is because I think of you." 
 
 "Then think of yourself." 
 
 "That is a punishment my worst enemy might 
 wish me." 
 
 "And I am that?" 
 
 Slowly his strange childish eyes opened widely 
 upon her. 
 
 "You never knew what I thought of you." 
 
 "Tell me," she whispered. "I thought, perhaps, 
 you cared. I wonder, did you ? " 
 
 His face twitched into a smile, or something he may 
 have meant for one. 
 
 "Yes, I cared," he said simply. 
 
 " But care no longer ? " 
 
 If she would have it so. In the swirl of thought 
 that seethed through his brain two figures seemed to 
 stand out with terrible distinctness. One was his own 
 poor self, the other the magnificent creature by his 
 side. The contrast was so appalling that he shrank 
 from contemplating it. 
 
 The boy came running up, caught his mother's 
 gloved hand, fondled it, and kissed it. Her eyes 
 sought those of Charles Sarning. 
 
 "He is all I have," she said. 
 
 The Major's lips twitched, but his glance was no 
 less steady than hers, no less full of meaning. 
 
 "He is a brave little man," he said. "You are to 
 be envied."
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 SOME FURTHER CONFIDENCES OF MRS. NUTTALL 
 
 PERHAPS no one but Betty marked the change in 
 him. The others were busy with their own affairs, 
 or had learned to regard him with an indifference 
 born of custom. If he had his dreams he kept them 
 to himself, and they were not likely to prove of much 
 consequence. But the girl, who had anxiously 
 awaited his arrival, knew the moment he entered the 
 room that something untoward had happened; and 
 when Aloes went out to post some copy to The Epoch 
 she opened fire. 
 
 Henry had been troublesome that afternoon, and 
 her nerves were on the rack. He was a bold lover, 
 this Actor Man, and made no secret of the fact that 
 he was smitten hard. Compliment after compliment 
 he poured out with all the volubility of the leading 
 man. He rolled his fine eyes and passed his hands 
 over his fine hair with true artistic effect, always being 
 careful not to disarrange its wavy masses. He had 
 caught her alone and he meant to make the running, 
 breaking the tacit understanding of the confederates 
 that she should be treated as a sister. Moral obliga- 
 tion sat lightly on him, and he knew he had been 
 very good. Never had he imposed such a restraint 
 upon himself. But the girl was growing in interest, 
 and he could not for long resist the blandishments of 
 
 218
 
 SOME FURTHER CONFIDENCES 219 
 
 the sex. Indeed he had thought more frequently 
 of her than even he would care to admit, though when 
 a woman was the question at issue he was not usually 
 a model of reticence. 
 
 But he found her strangely unmoved by his flat- 
 teries, as though she clearly recognized the tinsel and 
 paint in which they masqueraded. She was looking 
 through him, beyond him, wandering amid the deeply 
 wooded glades of the Gardens, or circling the Pond 
 where a little fair-haired boy sailed a miniature ship. 
 Consequently he found her moodish, irritating, and 
 left her in a pet. She was thankful when he had 
 gone, though she could not hope he would abandon 
 the attack. Yet it seemed hard that she could not 
 be left alone. Was it part of the price she had to 
 pay? If so, the payment might drain her of all 
 resource. 
 
 With Sarning's advent she saw in a moment what 
 had happened. She had not studied his face for so 
 long without learning to read every emotion that 
 crossed it. 
 
 "You've seen her? " she said. He bowed his head 
 in token of affirmation. "You went in search of 
 her?" 
 
 "Yes: but how did you know?" 
 
 "No matter." 
 
 "You have not been following me ! You wouldn't 
 do a thing like that ? " 
 
 "No. I guessed it. When are you going to see 
 her again ? " 
 
 "Never." 
 
 "You mean to say " she began in a voice full 
 
 of incredulity. But with a quick gesture he checked 
 her.
 
 220 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Just what I have said. But, Betty, don't speak 
 of this to the others. They wouldn't understand; and 
 I shall never see her again." 
 
 Was it possible that she could consent ! The girl 
 marvelled at the kind of woman she must be. Yet 
 deep down in her heart was a great and secret joy. 
 She had been ready to hate this woman, in fact she 
 had hated her deeply in a blind, unreasoning sort of 
 way : now she was willing to go down on her knees 
 and thank her. 
 
 That night she sang at her work : she was hum- 
 ming a tune when she encountered Bill Nuttall in 
 the hall. 
 
 "You're chirpy," he said. 
 
 "Why shouldn't I be ? " She was laughing up into 
 his ugly, serious face. 
 
 "Blowed if I know. Come into a fortin' ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 He looked at her with the eyes of a slow intelligence. 
 
 "You gals are corkers," he remarked oracularly. 
 
 "Why shouldn't we be?" Again she laughed up 
 at him, saucily, tantalizingly. 
 
 "I dunno. S'pose it's the 'air." 
 
 "What's the matter with it?" 
 
 "Red," said Bill. "Damyer!" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Nuttall!" 
 
 Pretending to be shocked, she hid her face in her 
 hands. Swiftly he caught them, pulled them down 
 and drew her to him. 
 
 "Damyer," he whispered hoarsely. His eyes 
 flamed ominously : he was trembling with excitement. 
 
 "Let me go," she gasped. 
 
 "Give us a kiss, then." 
 
 She brought him a stinging smack across the face.
 
 "Blarst yer ! " he cried. But he let go his hold 
 and began to rub his eyes. 
 
 She flew up the stairs, panting. Slowly he 
 descended to the kitchen, every nerve of him throb- 
 bing with anger. Little Eckie happening to get in 
 his way he caught that promising youngster a sound- 
 ing cuff behind the ear. 
 
 "To 'ell with the kids," he said: "they're always 
 under me feet." Eckie began to whimper. "Stop 
 that 'owlin'," said his father, "or I'll blinkin' well 
 give you wha'for." 
 
 Mrs. Nuttall, who was washing up some dishes, 
 dropped one with an ominous clatter. 
 
 "Don't you 'ammer my children," she cried, her 
 eyes glowering like those of a tigress at bay. 
 
 "Oh, goterell, you an' your children." 
 
 "We might for all you care, you blackguard; but 
 let me tell you that I'm a respectable married woman, 
 an' that I 'ave my rights." 
 
 "Keep em," said Bill; "or take 'em to 'ell with 
 you. I don't care." 
 
 "No, you don't care what 'appens to me now, but 
 you was 'ot enough on it once." 
 
 "More fool me," he growled. "Didn't know what 
 I was lettin' meself in for. Might 'a' known, though," 
 he muttered. 
 
 "What you mean by that?" she cried. 
 
 But Bill was too sore to argue or indulge in 
 domestic brawls. He picked up his cap, slouched out 
 into the area, and so found his way to the street. 
 
 "That's right," she shouted after him; "go to the 
 public-'ouse an' drink the money you owe me an' the 
 fambly. It don't matter what 'appens to us. No ! 
 We can starve, or go to the 'ouse for all you care."
 
 222 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 But he was gone, and it was no use beating the air. 
 Yet she fumed immeasurably for a full hour, and she 
 was still fuming when she encountered Betty on the 
 first floor. 
 
 "It's all along o' Nuttall," she said, in reply to 
 Betty's anxious inquiry. "I always knew that men 
 was born bad, but I did think I 'ad Nuttall in 
 'and. An' so I 'ad till litely. I dunno what's come 
 to 'im. First it was comin' 'ome reg'lar an' washin' 
 'is fice an' 'ands, an' dossin' 'isself up like a errant 
 boy. But I suspected what it meant, an' now I 
 know." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked Betty, who was con- 
 scious of an extreme nervousness. 
 
 "It's gals," said Mrs. Nuttall decisively, "it's gals. 
 'E's after 'em again. Wouldn't I just like to lay 
 me 'ands on the 'ussy." 
 
 It was a heavy hand, and Betty felt inconceivably 
 guilty. 
 
 "Perhaps you are mistaken," she suggested. 
 
 "Not me. I know the simtings. First 'e washes 
 'imself when 'e comes 'ome, then 'e sits an' smokes 
 an' thinks; an' when 'e comes to bed 'e turns 'is 
 back on me." 
 
 The thought of this last indignity overwhelmed 
 her utterly. She collapsed on to the chair and blinked 
 up at the girl with watery eyes. 
 
 "It isn't as if I ever looked at other men neither. 
 'E carn't s'y that I 'aven't been a trew wife to 'im. 
 But that's the way of a man. They don't value what 
 they don't think nobody else wants. An' I've 'ad 
 my charnces too," she added quickly. "I don't men- 
 tion no nimes; but there's some I know that wouldn't 
 'ave turned their backs on me."
 
 SOME FURTHER CONFIDENCES 223 
 
 Betty said she was sure of it, and in other ways 
 strove to console the much-injured one. 
 
 "You know what the beastly fellows are, dearie, 
 don't you ? Well, did you ever know one that wasn't 
 lookin' out for a chynge ? An' the gals are no better. 
 I don't know what's comin' to 'em. But I'll find 
 this one out, an' when I lay me 'ands on 'er she 
 won't know 'erself a Sunday mornin'." 
 
 Betty shuddered. It flashed through her mind that 
 she might suddenly find herself in a parlous situation. 
 However innocent she might be in this matter, who 
 would believe her? What magistrate ever believes 
 the many-times-convicted thief? Of him also she 
 thought, the gaunt man with the serious eyes. Truly 
 he might believe, but she could not bear the look of 
 reproach. Her face flamed as she thought of Nuttall 
 and his brutal overtures. She hadn't half a chance 
 for her life. 
 
 Ingeniously she soothed the injured one. First by 
 argument, which took a form somewhat similar to 
 this : If Mr. Nuttall were in search of adventure, it 
 was fairly evident that such adventure was not pro- 
 ceeding smoothly, since he proved to be in such an 
 abominable mood. The successful man would have 
 contained himself and made a pretence of enjoying 
 domestic happiness. This argument, if not entirely 
 conclusive, was not without its effect. But what fol- 
 lowed clinched the matter. There was a black bottle 
 and a tumbler on Henry's mantelpiece (for this scene 
 was enacted in his sitting-room), and at Betty's 
 suggestion that the much-aggrieved one must be feel- 
 ing faint, that good lady sighed and threw a wistful 
 glance towards the chimney. A few moments later 
 she had regained her wonted composure.
 
 224 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Won't you join me in a drain, dearie?" she 
 asked, her eye beaming with sudden benevolence. 
 
 "No, thank you," said the girl. 
 
 " Given up that comfort too, dearie ? Why, 'ow you 
 do get along, I dunno. There's no denyin' that at 
 my time o' life a little just a little stimalant is 
 necessary. After my third, which, like my fourth, 
 please Gawd, is sleepin' soundly in 'is little corfin, 
 the doctor told me as I wasn't to neglect a little stima- 
 lant, which is good for the stomick. An' I always 
 s'y 'e was a clever man who knew what 'e was talkin' 
 abaht, becos I 'ave my own cise to prove it. Just as 
 if a woman doesn't know when a little drop o' some- 
 think done 'er good. What with children, an' 'ouse- 
 keepin', an' 'usbands that's always runnin' after the 
 gals, we don't 'ave a 'arf rotten time of it, do we? 
 Wish I'd never seen Bill Nuttall, nor any of 'is 
 beastly sext. At best they're a worry, an' if you was 
 to split yourself for them they'd still think you 'adn't 
 done it properly. Thank you, dearie, I will just 'ave 
 a drain more. I always think a drain on the top 
 of a drain is just like one blanket on the top of another 
 in winter it gives the finishin' touch to comfort. 
 Makes you feel snug an' snoozly inside; an' when a 
 woman's 'ad a big fambly she feels the want of a 
 little stimalant. You've been very lucky, dearie; but 
 p'raps you ain't given that way. Some women 
 couldn't 'elp theirselves if a man was to look at 'em. 
 Not as I want the narsty wretches to look at me. I 
 can't reely abide 'em, only I try to tike life as it 
 comes an' make the best of it. It's no use worritin'. 
 If I was to worrit over 'arf the 'ard things that come 
 my way I should be worn to a shadder." 
 
 Mrs. Nuttall, as she grew contemplative, seemed
 
 SOME FURTHER CONFIDENCES 225 
 
 on the point of bursting into tears. She always grew 
 sentimental and watery beneath the genial influence 
 of whisky. With the slightest encouragement she 
 would have tried to sing about the Flow-er that 
 Gre-ew on Mother's Gryve; or told how her third 
 died of the croup, and her fourth of the dipthery. 
 
 Meanwhile the girl was wondering if this dreadful 
 creature was going to sit there all night, a not very 
 likely contingency seeing, that the whisky had run 
 out. Slowly she lifted her massive proportions from 
 the chair; but Betty's immediate sigh of relief stopped 
 half-way in her throat, for the dreaded figure, instead 
 of waddling to the door, turned and faced her with 
 blinking eyes. 
 
 "'Ow do you do it, dearie?" she gurgled. 
 
 "Oh, how do I do what?" cried the girl im- 
 patiently. 
 
 " Keep 'em oph, dearie ? " 
 
 "Keep who oph?" 
 
 "The men, dearie the narsty wretches." 
 
 To answer civilly cost Betty an amazing effort of 
 self-control. Yet she was well aware that nothing 
 was to be gained by angering the creature. More- 
 over, she was guiltily conscious of not wishing to 
 keep them off at least not one of them. 
 
 "It depends on the woman," she said. 
 
 "Yes, dearie on the woman, of course. But 
 they're such pushin' wretches, ain't they, dearie?" 
 
 Betty felt that she should scream if the word dearie 
 were uttered once more. Her nerves were clanging, 
 her brain whirling. Of all the ordeals to which she 
 had been subjected there was none like this. 
 
 "Though I must s'y the chynge in them is 
 somethink wonderful since you come. There's
 
 226 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 Mr. Navarre now 'e's a nice gentleman, ain't 'e, 
 dearie ? " 
 
 Betty bit her lip, but agreed. 
 
 "Yes," continued Ma Nuttall confidentially, '"e's a 
 reel gentleman is Mr. Navarre, an' very 'andsome too, 
 an' moves in the very 'ighest society. The duchesses 
 that run after 'im well there ! I shouldn't wonder if 
 'e ends up by gettin' a title an' being called Sir 
 'Enery. I know 'e 'as 'is opes; though, Lor' bless 
 you, we've all got 'em. I 'ad 'opes of Nuttall once, 
 but they don't seem to be coming to much; though 
 'e'd be a good 'usband an' father if 'e'd only keep oph 
 the drink an' the gals. Not that I blime 'im. I 
 know Nuttall 'd be trew enough if they would only 
 leave 'im alone. But no; they can no more resist 
 a 'andsome man than a man can resist us. What do 
 you think of Mr. Navarre, dearie ? " 
 
 "He has been very kind they have all been very 
 kind." 
 
 "But 'e 'as such a manner, such a air! You can 
 see 'e's the reel thing an' comes of a good fambly. 
 I must s'y that when it comes to the pinch there's 
 nothink like our old nobility. If I wasn't what I am 
 'e could kiss me tamorrer. But, thank Gawd, I never 
 let no man kiss me but Nuttall, an' I never will. But 
 
 if I was free like you, an' 'e wanted me Well, I 
 
 dunno. I s'pose there isn't another drain there, 
 dearie ? " 
 
 Betty turned the bottle upside down to give her 
 ocular proof. A solitary drop fell on to the worn 
 carpet. Had it been poison she would not have 
 wasted it. Ma Nuttalt waddled slowly to the door. 
 
 "Not that I'm s'ying a man should be over-trusted, 
 dearie. But there, I carn't tell you nothink. Still,
 
 SOME FURTHER CONFIDENCES 227 
 
 Mr. Navarre 'as got a air with 'im ; there's no denyin', 
 'e 'as got a air." 
 
 Betty's nerves were stretched to breaking point. 
 In another moment she might have committed some 
 desperate breach of the peace. But just then a scream 
 arose from the kitchen, and muttering something 
 about little Eckie and Ann Emma, Mrs. Nuttall 
 clumped heavily down the stairs. 
 
 With a little sob the girl collapsed into the nearest 
 chair. In some inexplicable manner the net seemed 
 tightening : already her convulsive fingers were en- 
 twined among the meshes. She felt very lonely, and 
 exceedingly miserable. 
 
 p 2
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE ACTOR MAN'S SECRET 
 
 "I'VE been thinking your case out, Betty," said 
 Mr. Navarre in his most impressive manner, "and 
 I've come to the conclusion that I really must do 
 something for you. It's all very well for Alfred and 
 Charles to keep you at their beck and call; but I don't 
 think it's fair to you I never did and I know it's 
 infernally selfish of them. Old Alfred's a good 
 enough sort in his way, but he's a confirmed grumbler 
 and spoil-sport; while Charles is a dreamer of childish 
 dreams, who never has got and never will get a grip 
 of the realities of life. And after all, this is life, the 
 only one we've got, and to let it slide by in obscurity, 
 when with a little effort on our part we might make 
 it prominent, is a wicked waste of glorious oppor- 
 tunity." 
 
 They were taking tea in one of the numerous tea- 
 shops near Victoria. Betty, who had been out "look- 
 ing at the shops," and incidentally doing a little modest 
 shopping, had met Henry in the Buckingham Palace 
 Road. He came swinging along with that easy 
 abandon of which he was a master, a cigarette be- 
 tween his lips, his cane twirling to the imminent 
 danger of those before and behind him. Always act- 
 ing, he never acted better than when passing through 
 some thoroughfare where ladies congregated. Though 
 
 228
 
 THE ACTOR MAN'S SECRET 229 
 
 at times he seemed unconscious of their presence, in 
 reality he never was so : though he walked with all 
 the dignity of an actor-manager who is dreaming of 
 a title, he never forgot for a moment where he was, 
 or what was expected of him. Espying a trim and 
 dainty figure in the distance, he approached it with 
 apparent nonchalance, shooting, at the psychological 
 moment, a glance which he doubted not would para- 
 lyze her. Or perhaps he would slacken his pace as 
 he approached the divinity, and look at her with a 
 steady, mystic, dreamy stare which conveyed nothing 
 but an utter weariness of life and its allurements. 
 That was what he called his poetic look. He knew 
 women liked, or thought they liked, poets. Not, per- 
 haps, so well as they liked actors; but there was an 
 undoubted affinity between the three, and the poet, in 
 the abstract, was rather appealing. Then there was 
 also the keen, swift glance of admiration, the sudden 
 animation which bespoke delight and amazement at 
 the sight of so much beauty. Some women preferred 
 that look, some the dreamy stare. Others again 
 seemed to appreciate boldness. He had all kinds in 
 stock, and he flattered himself he knew which wares 
 to display at the proper moment. 
 
 Just when Betty met him he was swaggering along 
 as though there was nobody in the street, or on the 
 earth, but himself. His new yellow wash-leather 
 gloves shone resplendently in the sunlight : when he 
 put up his hand to remove the cigarette from his lips 
 he did it with an easy, studied nonchalance which 
 was most captivating. Though his quick glance had 
 perceived her in the distance, he pulled up before her 
 with a start of delighted surprise, and swept her 
 a magnificent salutation. Also, for the benefit of
 
 280 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 any lady who might be passing, he exclaimed in his 
 most melodious accents, "By Jove, how do you do ! " 
 and furthermore favoured those within hearing with 
 the highly original remark that it was fine weather 
 after the rain. 
 
 In a way Betty was not a little proud of being seen 
 in the company of such an exalted cavalier. At all 
 events it was a great and amazing change from that 
 to which she had been accustomed; and the persuad- 
 ing of her to take tea was not an insuperable diffi- 
 culty. Henry ordered toasted tea-cakes and honey : 
 he was also particular to insist upon the production 
 of a little jug of cream. 
 
 "You officiate," he said. "I love to see your sex 
 pouring out tea. A woman sitting at the head of the 
 table, the shining tea-cups arrayed before her, her 
 silver kettle humming, her dainty lingery exposed, 
 the air of comfort and domesticity which pervades all, 
 is a welcome sight to the toil-weary man. Thank 
 you, only one lump; and only a suspicion of cream." 
 
 Yes, there was no doubt about it, she was quite an 
 attractive little body. Mr. Navarre began to think 
 things and wonder. 
 
 "I've just fixed up a tour for the summer," he said, 
 his manner being that of one who in his own splendid 
 person combined the parts of manager, proprietor, 
 and leading actor; "only the Number One towns, 
 y'know. We shall play a week in each of them, and 
 end in time for me to return to the Lane for the 
 autumn drama. I shall miss you, Betty; b'George, 
 how I shall miss you." He favoured her with a 
 glassy and most impressive stare. 
 
 "I'm sure we shall all miss you," she replied. "It 
 will be like breaking up the home."
 
 THE ACTOR MAN'S SECRET 231 
 
 "I am glad you will miss me, child, and in a way 
 I shall be sorry to go. But a man must work, 
 y'know. Nevertheless, I need a change badly and 
 so do you. I wish you were coming with us." 
 
 She shook her head. Perhaps he misread the 
 action. He was peculiarly prone to read things by 
 the light of his own imagination. 
 
 "Why don't you?" he asked suddenly. 
 
 "Oh, how could I ! " The thought seemed 
 ridiculous. 
 
 "Why not? I could get you in all right. They're 
 taking some extra people. You could understudy 
 well enough. I'll teach you and look after you. I 
 always said so, and I maintain it the stage is the 
 place for you. With my help you may be at the top 
 of the tree in a year." 
 
 "I'm afraid I mustn't think of it, Mr. Navarre." 
 
 "Why not? And please drop the ' Mr. Navarre.' 
 Why don't you call me Henry ? " 
 
 "I didn't think " she began. 
 
 "You may," he said, with a most gracious smile. 
 "As a rule I've not much sympathy with that kind of 
 familiarity which is a bit too prevalent in our pro- 
 fession ; but with you it's different. I should like you 
 to call me Henry. Will you ? " 
 
 He knew it was extremely generous of him, bridg- 
 ing as it would the great social gulf that yawned 
 between them. Consideration became none so well 
 as the exalted. 
 
 " Do you think the Major would like it ? " 
 
 "Oh, the deuce take the Major," he answered in a 
 pet. "You're always studying his likes and dislikes. 
 If the idea wasn't so preposterous I might almost 
 think you were in love with him."
 
 282 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 Betty hung her head, but she could not hide the 
 furious flush that sprang to her face. If Henry had 
 not at that moment been making eyes at a rather 
 plump and pretty waitress he might have seen some- 
 thing that would have caused him seriously to think. 
 
 "Y'know," he said, "Charles is a dear old boy" 
 he always prefaced his remarks about Charles with 
 something in the nature of an apology "and I am 
 extremely fond of him ; but it does not follow that I 
 am blind to his imperfections, although some people 
 seem to be." He spoke more at her than to her, 
 for his wandering glance was still roving about the 
 room in search of conquest. "As I said before, 
 neither he, nor any one else, can expect you to devote 
 your life to him. You have your own fortune to con- 
 sider, and I am sure he is the last man on earth to 
 stand in your way. But in any case it is no business 
 of his, and you must not let an imaginary obligation 
 destroy the prospect of er er a magnificent possi- 
 bility. The artistic temperament is the supreme gift 
 of discriminating nature, and you possess it to a 
 remarkable degree. You may take my word for it, 
 for I know what I'm talking about, and if I did not 
 think you peculiarly fitted for the life I should be the 
 last man in the world to suggest that you should take 
 it up." 
 
 "I've often thought about it," she admitted. 
 
 "Then here is the chance to put your thoughts to a 
 practical realization. Will you?" 
 
 She shook her head. "I must think about it." 
 
 "Let me do the thinking : I shall do it much better." 
 
 She may have had her doubts. Yet the prospect 
 was alluring. What if she should be the possessor 
 of a unique talent? Most people, particularly at that
 
 THE ACTOR MAN'S SECRET 288 
 
 time of life which knows not discretion, have a hanker- 
 ing after the theatre, and undoubtedly there were 
 opportunities here which no other vocation offered. 
 
 It was surprising to him that she should hesitate. 
 Delicacy forbade a recapitulation of the numerous 
 disabilities of her present position, which surely must 
 be known to her. By no stretch of fancy could he 
 class her as dull or stupid, or one not amenable to 
 the influence of environment. In artistic circles she 
 would become an artist. That he should help her to 
 improve her lot was clearly an imperative duty. 
 
 He presented her with a glowing disquisition on 
 the glories of the artistic career, on the applause, 
 wealth, honour which were to be won in that path of 
 magnificence. And truly he seemed to believe in 
 what he was saying, picturing himself in the fore- 
 front of great artists, with a title almost within reach 
 of his fingers. He glared at her with intense, strange 
 eyes; he threw up his chin and pressed the sides of 
 his head in true artistic agony : even his sprawl across 
 the little marble-topped table was the acme of studied 
 negligence. The people at the other tables watched 
 him with interest : when he thought their attention 
 slackened he recalled them with a melodious utterance 
 in a louder key. The artist in him could not tolerate 
 the horror of playing to empty benches. 
 
 He was in truly superb form. Out to conquer, he 
 made a gallant bid for victory, and in his own mind 
 he had little doubt that she could withstand his 
 eloquence. That she might have asked him a ques- 
 tion or two as to his apparent non-success in the 
 matter of monetary remuneration, etc., never occurred 
 to him. How could she possibly confound art with 
 money, or conceive that he could be scouted by for-
 
 284 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 tune when in so many eloquent periods he kept telling 
 her how great he was ? This was the clay and he the 
 master-potter. It was for him to mould it to what 
 shape he pleased. 
 
 Only, and this was a source of much annoyance, 
 he could not be sure of his success. There was hesi- 
 tancy in her eyes, in her manner; and though she 
 listened to him with evident sincerity, she betrayed 
 little or no enthusiasm. This was a flaw in her 
 character which he hoped time, combined with his 
 pleadings, might rectify. Probably she could not 
 quite grasp the full significance of the proposition. 
 Probably she did. 
 
 "You must think over it, little girl, and let me 
 know," he said. "It may prove the flood-tide of your 
 affairs, a chance that may never come again. The 
 man or woman who neglects an opportunity usually 
 lives to regret it." 
 
 He smiled affably at the frizzy girl in the little pay- 
 box by the door, tendering his check with a dignity 
 which rendered the ceremony most impressive. Then 
 he lit a cigarette, that action alone being the embodi- 
 ment of studied grace, and swaggered out with her 
 into the street. Here he was himself again, the lead- 
 ing man, well down centre, with the limelight full on. 
 He looked at Betty walking modestly by his side and 
 thought of the pride she must be feeling. B 'George, 
 he was frightfully good to her ! He knew how the 
 other women must be thrilling with envy. A woman 
 looked at him and smiled. He saw the smile and 
 read it in his own fashion. "She recognizes me, of 
 course," he thought: "she's wondering who I'm 
 with." Betty ought to have been a very proud girl 
 just then. No doubt she was.
 
 THE ACTOR MAN'S SECRET 285 
 
 Along the Vauxhall Bridge Road it was the same. 
 His swagger was stupendous, a kind of a cross be- 
 tween a cavalry officer in big boots and spurs, and 
 a mincing leading juvenile. Sometimes he hoped 
 people might take him for a cavalryman ; but then he 
 frequently hoped they might mistake him for many 
 things he was not. But however studied his progress 
 he contrived to assume an easy air of indifference as 
 though quite unaware of the sensation he created. 
 Also he chattered unceasingly, though inconse- 
 quently; for with the more important thought of 
 creating that sensation he could not be expected to 
 devote much mentality to conversation. 
 
 But as they drew near the crossing by Tachbrook 
 Street he was so intent upon expounding an argu- 
 ment, or thinking of the set of his tie, or the smart- 
 ness of his cloth-topped boots, that he did not see 
 a woman in shabby black roll from the saloon door 
 of the public-house which they were approaching. 
 Betty, however, saw her, and noticed that she started 
 as she beheld them. But it was not until they were 
 almost abreast of her that she noticed the woman 
 throw up her hands in amazement, and heard her 
 utter a shrill harsh laugh. Then Henry, awakening 
 from his dream, looked up and his face blanched. 
 Of a sudden all the swagger went out of him. He 
 seemed positively to wither in stature : eagerly he 
 looked from side to side with frightened eyes. 
 
 "Hullo, Henry," lisped the woman : "at your old 
 games again, dear boy ? " 
 
 Henry stammered but could make no reply. Help- 
 lessly, hopelessly he looked round like an entrapped 
 animal, his large eyes betraying a far finer terror 
 than any he had ever shown on the stage. Could
 
 286 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 the earth have opened and swallowed him he would 
 have faced his doom with a thankful heart. 
 
 "Nothing to say to me," leered the woman, "and 
 after all this time? Well, I must confess you're a 
 pretty beauty." 
 
 Her face was inflamed with drink, her fair hair, 
 which might have been beautiful once, was dirty and 
 dishevelled, her whole appearance being unmistak- 
 ably that of one who had herded with swine. 
 
 Henry touched Betty on the arm and hurried on. 
 The woman came after them. 
 
 "Not quite so fast, my beauty. Having searched 
 for you so long I'm not going to let you slip now." 
 
 But Henry only hurried the faster. 
 
 "Look here," he gasped excitedly, "this beast is 
 going to make a scene. I'm off. Don't tell her 
 where I live don't tell her anything." 
 
 Without further word he sprang from her and 
 dashed down a side street as though the devil were 
 at his heels. And most likely he was, though in a 
 female shape. Possibly not the first time he had 
 assumed that form. 
 
 The woman uttered a baffled cry and sprang for- 
 ward as if to follow; but already he was speeding 
 away on wings of terror, and instantly realizing the 
 futility of pursuit she stopped and confronted Betty. 
 
 "The dog," she panted. "He runs away now, but 
 I'll have him. He thinks he's got rid of me, but 
 I'll let him know, the miserable hound ! " She 
 approached closer to the girl and glared at her. 
 " How long have you known him ? " 
 
 But though once on a time Betty was greatly afraid 
 of Mr. Bob Langford, he was about the only person 
 of whom she had ever stood in terror. This besotted
 
 THE ACTOR MAN'S SECRET 237 
 
 virago was more like a reminiscence than a fear. She 
 had seen lots of her sort on the south side of the 
 river. 
 
 "Do you mean Mr. Navarre?" 
 
 "Navarre ! " she laughed. "So that's what he calls 
 himself now, is it? Navarre! Henry Dudds, that's 
 his real name, and I'm his wife." 
 
 " His wife ! " Betty could not suppress the 
 exclamation. 
 
 "Yes, his wife, worse luck. Wish to God I'd 
 never seen him. But I'll find him again, and when 
 
 I do So he's got you in tow, has he ? " The 
 
 woman laughed harshly. "Yes, he always had some- 
 thing of the kind. I suppose he's making a fool of 
 you as he does of all the others ? " 
 
 "You are quite mistaken," answered Betty coldly. 
 
 "I hope so, for your sake. Let me tell you he's 
 no catch. Wish to God I'd never caught him. 
 Come and have a drop." 
 
 "No, thanks." The girl hurried on. 
 
 " Haughty, eh ! " laughed the woman after her. 
 "Tell him I'm on his track, and when I do lay my 
 hands on him " 
 
 But what followed Betty did not hear, nor did she 
 wish to. Hurrying on she flung from time to time 
 an apprehensive glance over her shoulder; but the 
 woman was not following, having returned for con- 
 solation to the public-house. 
 
 Half-an-hour later Henry dragged a weary body 
 up the stairs. Betty was waiting for him, and 
 ushered him into the sitting-room without a word. 
 His face was pale, and fear was in his eyes. Never, 
 perhaps, had he been so free of swagger as now. It 
 was a limp and humble worm that wriggled across
 
 288 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 the arm-chair and collapsed into it, Yet even this 
 collapse was performed with some artistic merit. He 
 could not be anything but artistic. Were he upon 
 his deathbed he would have rolled his eyes 
 artistically. 
 
 " What happened ? " he asked in a hollow tone, a 
 tone which struck him as producing a remarkably 
 fine effect. 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "Didn't she make a scene? " 
 "No." 
 
 "Said nothing?" 
 "Nothing much." 
 
 He seemed relieved at this, and something of his 
 old manner returned. 
 
 "I used to know her once," he explained, half 
 apologetically; as much as to say, "Youthful indis- 
 cretions, y'know. Most unfortunate; but there you 
 are 1 " 
 
 "So she said." 
 
 "Then she did talk! Well?" 
 "She said she was your wife." 
 Henry winced, and made one or two futile efforts to 
 reply. It seemed as though a denial was forming on 
 his lips; but if this were so his better sense, or innate 
 honesty, suppressed it. 
 
 "Yes, that's so," he began rapidly, "but for God's 
 sake don't mention it. I married her when I was 
 young and foolish, and have regretted it ever since. 
 She was rather pretty then, and I well, I made the 
 mistake of my life. There ought to be a law to pro- 
 tect boys against themselves. All actors marry young 
 and find their wives a millstone round their neck; 
 curse the day they ever tried to play the part of the
 
 THE ACTOR MAN'S SECRET 289 
 
 honest man. Fascinated by her pretty face I thought 
 myself madly in love. I didn't know her, of course; 
 but I soon did. It was too late then : knowledge 
 always comes too late. That's the hard part of it. 
 Much I had to put up with, but when she took to 
 drink that was the last straw. Drink! I'd make it 
 a penal offence for any woman to be seen entering 
 a public-house. What she's doing now Heaven only 
 knows. I left her in the north in Manchester. Last 
 I heard of her she was doing the second-rate halls. 
 Evidently they've done with her. Wish they'd done 
 for her." 
 
 The tale of disaster came forth in spasmodic jerks. 
 For the first time in his life he seemed to regret having 
 to play a leading part : for once in a way he had 
 a surfeit of the limelight, well down centre. 
 
 "The drink will do for her," said Betty. She knew 
 something of its power. 
 
 "Too slowly," moaned the other: "that's the 
 trouble. They go on for years, a horror in them- 
 selves and a shame to every one connected with them. 
 Presently she will be rolling in the streets, the small 
 boys chucking mud at her. Then will come the police 
 and the ambulance, and the papers will appear with 
 staring headlines : ' Well-known Actor's Wife in the 
 Dock ! ' I know. It will mean the ruin of my pro- 
 fessional career." 
 
 In an agony he pressed his brows. Yet even here 
 there was an artistic restraint which did not add to 
 the reality of his despair, for he was thinking too 
 much of his hair really to disarrange it. Had he 
 been less careful to flatten it with the palms of his 
 hands he might have seemed more realistically effect- 
 ive. As it was the middle parting retained its
 
 240 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 accuracy of line. Thus was it always with him. He 
 did not believe in making art too real. 
 
 "Of course," he continued despondently, "there's 
 no more peace for me in London, and I'm jolly glad 
 I'm getting out of it. Did she say anything about 
 following me?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then that settles it. She means to hunt me down, 
 make my life a martyrdom, disgrace me before my 
 friends. The only wonder is that she didn't discover 
 I was at the Lane." 
 
 "Perhaps it was the change of name," suggested 
 Betty innocently enough. 
 
 Mr. Navarre started, seemed about to explain, and 
 then thought better of it. 
 
 "Naturally," he said, "I don't pretend the slightest 
 affection for her now. She has destroyed even my 
 sense of duty. It has become more imperative than 
 eve? that I should leave London. Won't you change 
 your mind, Betty, and come with me ? " 
 
 The girl shook her head. She was sorry for him, 
 but not so sorry as all that. Moreover, it was just 
 possible that the woman had her own version of the 
 story. 
 
 "I'm sure we should suit each other down to the 
 ground," he continued eagerly. "She never had the 
 artistic temperament : you have. We were cut out 
 for each other. I'll make a great actress of you : 
 the world shall ring with your fame; your photograph 
 shall be in every shop window. You shall ride in 
 a motor-car, wear furs, and dine at Romano's. You 
 don't know what it is to be a great artist, to have 
 the world hanging on your every look, your every 
 gesture; to have your movements recorded in all the
 
 THE ACTOR MAN'S SECRET 241 
 
 newspapers. It's something worth living for. Come 
 with me and you shall know it. I'll teach you Juliet : 
 I'll play Romeo myself. I'm great as Romeo: I 
 shall be greater with you. Together we'll take the 
 world by storm." 
 
 He thought it strange that she should be able to 
 resist such an alluring prospect. Perhaps she did 
 not fully realize what it meant. How could she ? 
 What plant or tree can bear well without pruning? 
 He would prune her, and he would be very patient. 
 That, as he had said, they were cut out for each other 
 he did not doubt. The only doubt seemed to be on 
 her side. 
 
 He appealed to her. "Don't tell them about this, 
 Betty. I should never be able to look them in the 
 face." She promised. "It only shows you," he con- 
 tinued, "that even the best of us have our skeleton in 
 the cupboard some secret which we are wishful to 
 hide. Lord, how blindly we play with our chances 
 what fools we make of ourselves ! " 
 
 She knew it only too well, and wondered who regu- 
 lates that wisdom which comes too late. Neverthe- 
 less, she was sorry for him. Boaster and braggart 
 as he was, and void of principle or scruple, she could 
 not but feel sorry for him. It was really pitiful to 
 see how his magnificence withered beneath the blight 
 of this early indiscretion. 
 
 Perhaps not a little of the pity she felt was for 
 herself.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 " NOW YOU KNOW " 
 
 MAJOR SARNING was quietly drinking his glass of 
 beer in a certain popular resort not far from Victoria 
 Station, known locally as the "Cow Shed," when a 
 gentleman entered and called somewhat peremptorily 
 for two stouts and bitter. Like a dream voice, but of 
 the nightmare quality, the tones reverberated through 
 his memory. Where had he heard it before, and 
 under what conditions? Quietly he looked round 
 and encountered the swollen and insolent stare of 
 Mr. Bob Langford. Beside him was a woman in 
 rusty black, a woman with fair hair and a dissipated 
 face. 
 
 The recognition was mutual, though instinctively 
 Mr. Langford seemed to edge a little from his old 
 enemy, as though he remembered a jabbing bunch 
 of knuckle that would not keep out of his face. Beyond 
 range he grinned with more assurance, also w r ith not 
 a little of defiance. But above all his attitude was 
 tempered by a wise discretion, though he had no 
 doubt whatever that given a second opportunity he 
 would render a better account of himself. In any 
 case it would ill become so redoubtable a champion 
 to show even a curl of the white feather. 
 
 "'Ullo, guv'nor," said he, with mock heartiness, 
 "glad to see yer again." 
 
 The Major stared at him with mild eyes, but made 
 
 242
 
 "NOW YOU KNOW 243 
 
 no sign of recognition. Mr. Langford was already 
 beginning to regret that he had spoken, but having 
 done so he felt that there was no retreat with 
 honour. 
 
 " 'Eart still trew to Poll ? " he laughed. 
 
 "Are you addressing me?" asked the Major. 
 
 "Looks like it, guv'nor," grinned the other sheep- 
 ishly. 
 
 "Ah," said the Major, a slow smile of recognition 
 breaking over his face, "it's Mr. Langford." 
 
 "Yas, that's me. 'Ow's the blightin' little cat?" 
 
 "To whom do you refer, Mr. Langford?" 
 
 "I arst yer," grinned Bob. "Think you've got 'er, 
 I s'pose? Think you'll keep 'er wot! Yas I don't 
 fink. She'll come back a'right. I can wite. It's 
 gotter come, you know, guv'nor. Carn't 'elp 'erself. 
 Red 'air 'ot an' shifty." 
 
 "Red hair! " exclaimed the woman. 
 
 "A lidy of our acquaintance," continued Mr. Lang- 
 ford. 
 
 "She had red hair the girl he was with," explained 
 the woman. 
 
 "Probably the sime," said Bob. "Sounds like 'er 
 any way, little swine ! " 
 
 Evidently memory still rankled. But the Major, 
 who was looking hard at the woman, failed entirely 
 to note the malicious glance with which Bob Langford 
 honoured him. 
 
 "Your pardon, madam," said he. "Though I have 
 not the honour of your acquaintance, yet I feel com- 
 pelled to take the liberty of warning you against that 
 man. He is particularly dangerous especially to 
 women." 
 
 The last three words, though delivered in the 
 Q 2
 
 244 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 Major's suavest tones, stung Mr. Langford like the 
 cut of a whip. 
 
 "You mind your own business," he snarled. 
 
 But Sarning was watching the effect of his words 
 on the woman. Langford's snarl in no way worried 
 him. He believed, and with good reason, that he had 
 taken that gentleman's measure, and fitted him with 
 impeccable accuracy. 
 
 "I don't know who you are or what you are," 
 replied the woman in a tone which belied her gratitude 
 for the warning, and which also betrayed a stupid 
 kind of thickness due to the effects of drink, "but my 
 husband has deserted me for a slip of a thing with red 
 hair, and this gentleman has kindly promised his 
 help to find him." 
 
 "Yas," said Bob, with an ugly smile and an 
 even uglier look, "I've promised the lidy to find 
 'im." 
 
 " He's an actor," continued the woman in the same 
 dreamy, stupid tone, "yes, that's what he is, an actor, 
 and he deserted me three years ago in the north. 
 Dudds is his proper name Henry Dudds but he 
 calls himself Navarre now. I'll Navarre him when I 
 find him," she added viciously : "I'll have him up for 
 desertion, see if I don't." 
 
 The Major's nerves began to throb. Red hair an 
 actor Navarre ! What had he stumbled on ! 
 
 "I was pretty enough once," continued the woman 
 in the same monotonous, hazy, dreamy fashion, "and 
 a fool, too, or I would never have listened to him with 
 his compliments and his patter about art. When we 
 first met I was playing one of the Babes in the Bristol 
 panto to his Wicked Uncle, and rotten bad he was in 
 the part, and rotten bad he was in every part I ever
 
 "NOW YOU KNOW 245 
 
 saw him play, and rottenest of all in the part of a 
 husband." 
 
 The memory of her wrongs brought her to the 
 verge of tears. Mr. Langford, gallantly sympathetic, 
 presented her with her half-emptied glass. 
 
 " 'Ave a drain, old dear," he murmured. 
 
 The old dear thanked him with a weak, watery 
 smile and drained. The Major seized the stout-and- 
 beery interlude to beat a retreat, nor did he even 
 pretend to hear Mr. Langford's genial invitation to 
 join their wassail. His brain was humming with 
 conjecture. Henry's wife brought to this awful 
 pitch ! Another fearful example of the tragic waste 
 of woman. 
 
 And Betty. He wondered why she had not told 
 him of this adventure. Why should she, of course ? 
 Still his mind conceived the thought that there was a 
 kind of obligation, though he would have been the 
 first to deny it. Of a truth he had not expected such 
 secrecy, and in a way it rather hurt him. Deeper 
 reflection assured him that her only object could be to 
 shield Henry. Perhaps he had imposed silence upon 
 her. He knew how poor Henry's vanity would suffer. 
 Also some other points in the character of that worthy 
 one were no strangers to him. In fact, though this he 
 would never dream of voicing, he was not quite sure 
 of Henry when beset by temptation, or impelled by 
 vanity. 
 
 Betty looked up as he entered, and quick to read 
 his every emotion she saw the agitation in his glance. 
 Her first thought was that he had again been talking 
 to the woman of the carriage, that woman who had 
 caused her so much perturbation, and resentment 
 began to smoulder. Nor was she in the least mollified
 
 246 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 by seeing him sink wearily into the arm-chair. 
 Therefore his first words came as a surprise. 
 
 " I did not know you had been out with Henry." 
 
 " I met him by accident." 
 
 "You did not tell me." 
 
 "I did not think you would be interested." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Why should you be?" 
 
 "Because everything you do is interesting to me." 
 
 "I didn't know. I'm sorry," she muttered. 
 
 " What are you keeping back, Betty ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " She began to tremble : 
 she always trembled when he turned that kindly 
 searching glance on her. 
 
 "Of course," he said, "I have no right to question 
 you." 
 
 "But you have," she cried passionately : "you have 
 every right to question me. I want you to. Why 
 don't you? It would seem as though you took some 
 interest in me. It would make me feel as though I 
 wasn't quite " 
 
 "Quite what?" 
 
 "Quite an outcast. That somebody thinks me 
 worthy of a thought now and then. He is kind and 
 sympathetic." 
 
 "Yes, he's a good old chap, is Henry." He repeated 
 the old formula, though not quite in the same old 
 way. 
 
 "I met him in the Buckingham Palace Road," she 
 continued hurriedly. "He took me to tea. Was that 
 wrong ? " 
 
 "Why no, of course not." 
 
 He was smiling at her now, that same kindly smile 
 that had been like a guiding star to her in ner drear
 
 "NOW YOU KNOW 247 
 
 journey through the Valley of the Shadow. In a 
 moment her soul was on her lips. 
 
 " He asked me " She stopped, but that kindly 
 
 smile was still encouraging her. "I don't think I 
 ought to," she added. 
 
 "If you don't think you ought to," he assured her, 
 "of course you mustn't." 
 
 "But I want to! I don't want to keep anything 
 from you." There were tears in her eyes. "And I 
 
 wouldn't do it unless you " her voice was broken 
 
 "unless you wished me to." 
 
 "Wished you to do what? " 
 
 "Go away." 
 
 " Go away ! " 
 
 "He asked me to go with him. Said I would do 
 well on the stage, and that I was wasting my life here." 
 
 "In that he was not, perhaps, far wrong. I've 
 often thought the same. He's a good sort Henry." 
 
 She looked at him in wonder : then her wonder 
 vanished. 
 
 "But I don't want to go," she cried passionately; 
 "don't you understand I don't want to go ! I want 
 to stay here with you and Mr. Aloes and and 
 everything." 
 
 There was a catch in her voice that brought a 
 pained, thoughtful look to his eyes. 
 
 "We haven't much to offer you, Betty." 
 
 "All I want," she said. 
 
 "And what did you say to him?" 
 
 " What would I say ? " 
 
 Gravely he bowed his head. 
 
 "And then you met her?" 
 
 "Her?" 
 
 "The woman who said she was his wife."
 
 248 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "How did you know?" 
 
 "I have just left her." 
 
 "She was drunk then." 
 
 "I'm afraid she is no better now. It is pitiful to 
 see a woman drunk." 
 
 "There are worse things," she muttered. 
 
 "I wonder." 
 
 "Don't you think so?" she asked quickly, eagerly. 
 
 " I am not sure that I know of anything worse. I 
 used to drink too much myself once." 
 
 "So that accounts for it?" 
 
 "That accounts for it." 
 
 "Not all, though. You were always kind, good- 
 natured." 
 
 "What the world calls a fool precisely. Come to 
 think it out I must have been. He was with her." 
 
 "He?" 
 
 "Langford." 
 
 " Poor devil ! " 
 
 "I wonder if I ought to speak to Henry. I wonder 
 how he'd take it ? " 
 
 She shook her head. She had some knowledge of 
 Mr. Navarre which was not shared by the Major. 
 
 " Did he mention me ? " 
 
 "Quite civilly." 
 
 " The dog ! And to think I was afraid he would 
 hurt you." 
 
 "So you were afraid," he mused; "you didn't want 
 him to hurt me ? Now, that was very nice of you, 
 Betty. But suppose he had?" 
 
 " I would have killed him ! " 
 
 The Major was startled at her vehemence ; an 
 amused smile passed over his face. But it quickly 
 gave way to a graver look.
 
 "NOW YOU KNOW" 249 
 
 " I did not know that I had such a redoubtable 
 champion. Between the two of us Mr. Langford 
 would have had a bad time." 
 
 He looked up at her and smiled, but there was no 
 answering smile on her face. She was looking at him 
 with grave, serious eyes, in which was much of fear 
 and bewilderment. 
 
 "I think I must speak to Henry," he said suddenly. 
 "After all, she's his wife." 
 
 "Do you think either of them worth it?" 
 
 The question startled him, and instantly she knew 
 that she had made a mistake. Was he not the one 
 person on earth who would think so ? 
 
 "She's his wife, you know," he answered mildly. 
 "Perhaps we can do something for her. I think we 
 ought to try." 
 
 In a moment she was sobbing at his feet. 
 
 "Forgive me," she moaned: "I did not mean 
 that." 
 
 "Of course you didn't, little girl," he said, draw- 
 ing her to him and gently stroking her hair, that 
 wonderful hair that was gleaming like strands of gold. 
 "You see, the poor creature, like the Gadarene swine, 
 is rushing downward to destruction. The probabilities 
 are that Henry does not know this, and if no one tells 
 him how will he ever know ? Just think, we may be 
 able to rescue her from Bob Langford." 
 
 "Gawd help her," she said, "if she goes too far 
 with him." 
 
 "That's just it. She did not seem to be a very 
 intelligent person." 
 
 "And he has a way with women in spite of his 
 brutality," said Betty; "that is with ignorant women. 
 He can come the patter so nicely when he pleases. Of
 
 250 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 course it wouldn't fool me now ; but once ! But 1 
 couldn't help being ignorant, could I?" 
 
 She looked up at him with great eyes shining with 
 tears. He thought there was something frightfully 
 pathetic in the appeal. 
 
 "You're a wonder," he said cheerily. "We're all 
 mightily proud of you, my dear." 
 
 She caught his hand and kissed it. He felt the 
 hot tears mingle with her kisses. She looked up at 
 him through long, wet lashes. 
 
 "Now you know," she said, and hid her face again. 
 
 Sarning's face grew pale : a troubled look sprang 
 to his eyes. Gently he released his hand and laid it 
 lightly on her shoulder. But never had he encoun- 
 tered a situation that required more delicate handling. 
 Also the knowledge, if not quite a revelation, was 
 something in the nature of one. But he would not 
 know : he must not. 
 
 "I think I'd better put it to Alfred," he said. 
 "Something must be done for this poor woman. 
 Henry is really a good fellow, and no doubt there are 
 two sides to the story." 
 
 A shudder shook her delicate body : he saw her 
 shoulders contract as though a whip had been laid 
 upon them. Then she rose and groped her way 
 blindly from the room.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 CRUMBLING FOUNDATIONS OF A CONFEDERACY 
 
 ALFRED was of opinion that the confederacy was 
 in danger. 
 
 "With the introduction of woman," said he in his 
 oracular fashion, "trouble began in Eden, and ever 
 since then history has gone on repeating itself. Odd 
 that it should be so; yet woman, though not what 
 we would call warlike, is a born fighter, or the cause 
 of friction in others. Even our Betty seems to have 
 made things hum, though, mind you, I attach no 
 blame to her. It is the charm of her, of her sex, that 
 causes all the trouble. In a way I don't blame Henry 
 for that : he is a born hunter in whom principle is non- 
 existent. He kills without scruple, just as fellows 
 shoot pigeons or pheasants, and are proud of their 
 excellence in the art. And mark you, Betty's an 
 attractive little creature. I've felt stirrings myself at 
 times. It's a woman, you know, my dear Charles, 
 and to attempt a denial of the sex is sheer folly. But 
 at the same time our worthy confederate need not have 
 gone behind our back. Yet Heaven knows that it ill 
 becomes us to act the part of judge. Suppose I had 
 been ten years younger. There's no knowing." 
 
 Aloes glanced reflectively through the window at a 
 small visible portion of the sky. Up there, or wher- 
 ever it was, they might understand the yearnings of 
 
 251
 
 252 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 humanity. Certainly he found this thing called life 
 grow stronger with the years. 
 
 "Still, the sense of truth," said the Major. 
 
 "That which puzzled Pilate and a long generation 
 of Pilates. You knew that we could not keep the girl 
 for ever. If not Henry, then you or me, or some 
 unknown. We must look probabilities in the face, 
 not bury our head like the ostrich." 
 
 "Still I insist he has not played the game." 
 
 "According to your lights, or his? Perhaps Napo- 
 leon did not play the game either, or Caesar, or 
 Alexander according to their enemies. Yet they 
 probably had a conscience of sorts. Think of the 
 circumstance. More is done by fate than many 
 people imagine. It sounds trite, and is; yet the world 
 is governed by trite commonplaces and absurd plati- 
 tudes. It is only w-e who would rebuild on the old 
 structure who find the task so difficult." 
 
 "Yet he should be told of his wife. That we owe 
 him, and her." 
 
 "A debt for which we will receive no thanks in 
 discharging. Yet surely the wife counts. It is an 
 obligation which cannot be denied. Yet even the 
 wife is not the same to all of us. Nevertheless he 
 is our friend, and should know." 
 
 "And Betty?" 
 
 "It doesn't taste sweet or sound pleasant. But we 
 might have foreseen something of the sort happening. 
 Betty's handicapped : she can't carry the weight. 
 Heigho ! " He blew a cloud of smoke into the air. 
 "So go our dreams of the perfect confederation; so 
 go all dreams which are not based on selfishness. 
 What we all want is a new nature." 
 
 Major Sarning had not told Aloes all, and it was
 
 CRUMBLING FOUNDATIONS 253 
 
 this which he had not told him that caused the deeper 
 thought. 
 
 After that meeting with his wife Henry came and 
 went furtively. Never did he leave the house without 
 first taking a comprehensive survey of the street; 
 never did he approach it without first making sure 
 that the way was clear. All the old bravado, the 
 "swank" as he would have called it, had gone from 
 him. The proud knowledge of his own merit brought 
 him no consolation : behind him ever was the pursu- 
 ing shadow of vengeance. He would never be him- 
 self again until he had left London far behind. 
 
 On one occasion the Major, coming up behind, 
 saw him perform some extraordinary antics. They 
 were both making for home, and Sarning, perceiving 
 him in the distance, hurried to overtake him. But 
 as Henry turned the corner of the street he stopped 
 suddenly, looked anxiously up and down the long 
 road, went forward a step or two, stopped again and 
 shaded his eyes with the palm of his hand. Then he 
 turned to the right-about and came full upon the 
 Major. His face was pale, his eyes shining excitedly, 
 his whole manner extremely apprehensive. Added 
 to this was an angry look which shot suddenly into 
 his face upon encountering Sarning. 
 
 "My dear fellow," began the Major. 
 
 "Sorry. I've forgotten something," said Henry 
 quickly, making an attempt to pass. But the Major 
 had also seen the figure which had scared him. 
 
 "It's all right," he said. 
 
 "What d'you mean?" asked the other. 
 
 "It's some one else." 
 
 "Look here " began Mr. Navarre. 
 
 "Then look for yourself."
 
 254 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 Henry looked and was satisfied. It was a woman 
 in black truly, but all other resemblance was created 
 by his frightened imagination. 
 
 " I suppose she told you ? " He was up in arms 
 at once. 
 
 "She?" 
 
 "Betty." 
 
 "Nothing that I did not know. I'm sorry for you, 
 old boy." 
 
 Navarre's resentment fled on the instant. Yet there 
 was an odd blending of wonder and curiosity in his 
 glance. 
 
 " How did you know ? " 
 
 "She told me herself." 
 
 "Then you've seen her?" 
 
 The Major nodded. "I'll tell you when we get in." 
 
 They hurried towards the door, Henry still watch- 
 ing the approach of the woman with a certain amount 
 of apprehension. It was not his wife, but the creature 
 had given him a shock. 
 
 As soon as they entered the sitting-room Sarning 
 told him how he had met her with Langford, and how 
 the story came out. 
 
 "You did not tell her you knew me, or that you 
 were a friend of mine?" 
 
 "No, I spared her that. But I suppose it's true? 
 She is your wife ? " 
 
 After a moment's hesitation Henry assented grudg- 
 ingly. 
 
 "I'm afraid I can't deny it." 
 
 "What are you going to do?" 
 
 "Clear out." 
 
 "And she?" 
 
 "I've no further interest in her."
 
 CRUMBLING FOUNDATIONS 255 
 
 " It's your wife, you know." 
 
 "That's right, rub it in," he replied peevishly. 
 
 "But, my dear fellow, I have no intention of rub- 
 bing it in. Still, it seems to me that a man's wife 
 has some claim to his consideration." 
 
 "Easy enough for you to talk : she doesn't belong 
 to you. I like fellows who are fond of giving advice. 
 It comes well from some of them." 
 
 "Quite absurd, I admit. It only struck me that 
 you didn't quite realize the circumstances." 
 
 "Only wish I didn't, but I'm afraid I do. But as I 
 can do nothing perhaps you'll take her in hand. 
 You're rather an expert at rescuing damsels in 
 distress." 
 
 "Now, my dear fellow, you're getting angry. Not 
 a good sign." 
 
 "At any rate, I don't see what business it is of 
 yours." 
 
 "Perhaps not. I must apologize for appearing to 
 be interested. We've been good friends, you know." 
 
 "That does not excuse an interference in my private 
 affairs. To be frank with you, Sarning, I fail to see 
 how this matter can possibly concern you." 
 
 "Perhaps I shall show you," replied the Major 
 quietly. 
 
 "Look here, my dear fellow, if you think I'm going 
 to be preached at you're mightily mistaken." 
 
 " It's the woman," said the Major. 
 
 "Damn her," said Navarre. 
 
 "But that won't help her or you." 
 
 " I shall help myself." 
 
 "To what?" 
 
 "The best that comes along. That's good enough 
 for me. I know : you think I've treated her badly,
 
 256 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 deserted her and all that sort of rot. But I tell you 
 she's hopeless. It isn't drink only. She's worthless, 
 and I'm not going to let her make my life a misery." 
 
 "She was with Bob Langford." 
 
 "Betty's old pal!" The Major winced. "Well, 
 he's good enough for her." 
 
 " But can we get rid of our obligations so easily ? " 
 
 "You talk because you have none to get rid of. 
 Frankly, Sarning, I'm in no mood to be preached at. 
 This is my affair, and I won't have you or any one 
 else interfering." 
 
 "I hoped you wouldn't look at it quite like that. 
 You see, I saw her, the company she was in, the road 
 she was taking. If I didn't like you, old boy, I 
 shouldn't bother about her. It seemed to me that 
 something ought to be done, some effort made." 
 
 "It would be a waste of time and energy. The 
 drink has got hold of her. You don't suppose that 
 anything on earth can check them once they've gone 
 so far? You're not childish enough to believe in the 
 reformation of such people? You don't know what a 
 powerful devil this drink is." 
 
 "Don't I!" 
 
 "At any rate I've no further interest in her or her 
 doings. I'm not going to have my life made miser- 
 able through a sot : and I tell you I won't be preached 
 at. I've my own life to live, and I mean to live it in 
 my own way." 
 
 "We can't live our lives in our own way." 
 
 "Oh, can't we!" 
 
 "Whoever tries it is courting disaster." 
 
 "We risk all that, old son. Anything more?" 
 
 Really he was a fool to get angry with the man. 
 Amiable crank that he was, it was as easy to acquiesce
 
 CRUMBLING FOUNDATIONS 257 
 
 as to disagree, and it meant much the same. Never- 
 theless, this tenacity was not a little irritating. In 
 most things Sarning had been allowed a good deal of 
 latitude; but there were limits even to friendship and 
 the licence of faddists. 
 
 "You wouldn't like to think that your wife had 
 sunk utterly ? " 
 
 "Why not? Once the wife has lost our respect or 
 affection what is she more than any other woman ? 
 She came a stranger, she goes as one. There is 
 nothing in the tie beyond its legality." 
 
 " You have no children ? " 
 
 "No, thank God. She is just a strange woman 
 whom I lived with for a time. Had she behaved her- 
 self I should not have forgotten my obligations. Oh, 
 I don't profess to be a saint like you," (the Major 
 raised his hands deprecatingly) "neither am I so 
 utterly devoid of principle as you seem to imagine. 
 You tell me you have seen her ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then how do you suppose I could take up with 
 her again ? " 
 
 " I admit the difficulty : yet " 
 
 "Now look here, Sarning, I have no more love for 
 this woman, no feeling of any kind but the utmost 
 loathing and detestation. It is sheer folly to talk of 
 regeneration and the like. We are not all gifted with 
 your amazing charity. I admit that this lecture of 
 yours is quite consistent with the rest of your con- 
 duct ; but who are you that you should lay down the 
 law ? We have taken each other on trust as we 
 have to take most things in this world, but how do 
 I know that your own record is any better than 
 mine? "
 
 258 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "No, my record's not much, 1 ' admitted the Major. 
 "But I may have learnt something in adversity." 
 
 "So have I, and this truth stands out above all 
 others : If you don't look after yourself nobody else 
 will." 
 
 "It's very good of you to tolerate my impertin- 
 ence." 
 
 "Frankly I think so; but even friendship has its 
 limits. You are talking in your hat, my dear fellow, 
 groping in the dark. The principles you advocate are 
 pretty and charitable and all that sort of thing, and 
 seem quite fit and proper when applied to others ; but 
 put yourself in my place. How could you live with 
 a drunken, dissipated beast who shocked you at every 
 turn?" 
 
 "I wasn't so much thinking of your living with 
 her " 
 
 "As of extending the helping hand?" cut in 
 Navarre, with a sneer. "Yes, it sounds very fine 
 melodrama, and would no doubt appeal to the tran- 
 scendent virtue of the gallery. I don't happen to be 
 the gallery, that's all. I'm sorry for her, but the 
 only reparation she can make me now is to leave me 
 a widower. Once for all, I've done with her. Is that 
 enough for you ? " 
 
 The Major bowed his head. Yet the troubles of 
 the Actor Man did not seem to ring the true note of 
 genuine coin. There was more irritation than regret, 
 more anger than sorrow. The coming of this woman 
 had been most inopportune, and had impinged some- 
 what upon a dearer hope, nor could he cloak the 
 annoyance with a more serious meaning. Also Major 
 Sarning saw that it would be folly to pursue the topic 
 further. Unless he misread Navarre there was here
 
 CRUMBLING FOUNDATIONS 259 
 
 a determination to be furious which savoured not a 
 little of the footlights. 
 
 "There is one other matter," he said, showing at 
 last, perhaps, the real cause of his solicitude : 
 "Betty." 
 
 "Well!" Navarre turned sharply, as one who 
 scents danger. 
 
 "Frankly, my dear fellow, I would rather you didn't 
 fill her head with absurdities." 
 
 "I begin to see," laughed the other. 
 
 "Then that makes it so much easier. I felt sure 
 you would. So long as you understand, of course, 
 there is nothing more to be said." 
 
 "But I am not sure I understand exactly how 
 this matter concerns you any more than the other. I 
 have told her, as I have told you, that she is wasting* 
 her life here, and that to bind her down to this 
 drudgery is sheer selfishness on our part." 
 
 "I dare say you are right; I have often thought 
 the same myself. Yet I believe she is not unhappy." 
 
 " It is the easiest thing in the world to believe what 
 we wish." 
 
 "All the same, I would rather you didn't go any 
 farther in this matter. It would be a pity if she were 
 driven back to the old life." 
 
 " Who wants to drive her back ? " 
 
 "No one, naturally. Yet one never knows how a 
 thing will pan out." 
 
 "Don't you think that you are moving a bit beyond 
 yourself ? " 
 
 "I hope not." 
 
 "Then I must tell you that I think you are." Two 
 bright anger spots began to burn on Henry's cheeks. 
 "I presume Miss Pendleton is a free agent?" 
 R 2
 
 260 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Absolutely." 
 
 "Then by what right do you interfere with her 
 plans? You know, Sarning, this fatherly solicitude 
 is all very well in its way, but to me it savours too 
 much of personal interest. One might think 
 
 "But if one is wise one keeps one's thoughts to 
 oneself especially if they are likely to wound, or to 
 offend." 
 
 "Oh, I'll answer for my thoughts," said the other. 
 "At the same time, if Betty chooses to strike out a 
 career for herself I don't see what business it is of 
 yours." 
 
 "A career! What sort of career?" 
 
 "Oh, look here," cried Navarre impatiently, "don't 
 you think we've had enough of this ? I dare say my 
 interest in her will bear comparison with that of 
 others." 
 
 A slight flush passed over the Major's pale face : 
 his glance steadied as it did when he began to size 
 up Bob Langford. 
 
 "I hope our interest in her is the same," he 
 answered. " I am beginning to wonder. It would 
 be strange if between us we could not do something 
 for the girl that is, something that might redound 
 to our honour, and hers." 
 
 "I don't know what you mean by that. It seems to 
 me, Sarning, that you are taking an unwarrantable 
 liberty with my affairs, and I tell you straight that 
 I've had enough of it." 
 
 "Quite so, my dear fellow. Consequently you must 
 leave her alone." 
 
 "Must!" 
 
 The word came like a pistol shot. The two men 
 were glaring at each other now. Then Navarre began 
 to laugh.
 
 CRUMBLING FOUNDATIONS 261 
 
 "B'George, fancy quarrelling over her ! " 
 
 "But we're not going to quarrel, old fellow: we 
 know each other too well for that. It would be rather 
 a pity if we didn't do the right thing by her. I know 
 you would regret it just as much as I." 
 
 But when he was alone Mr. Navarre upbraided 
 himself rather severely for what he was pleased to 
 term his weak-kneed vacillation. He felt that he had 
 been bested in this encounter with Major Sarning, 
 and the thought rankled. That vanity which was the 
 motive power of his existence had been grievously 
 wounded. To accept defeat with a good grace, even 
 from a superior, is not a common attribute of 
 humanity; but to be forced to accept it from one whom 
 one knows to be infinitely inferior is a great strain on 
 generosity. And of a truth Henry's generosity was 
 not his strongest point. Defeat in any shape, or from 
 any source, was intolerable. But was this defeat? 
 Though seething with anger he yet affected to smile 
 complacently. 
 
 He wondered greatly how he could have allowed 
 Sarning to go so far. And then a second thought 
 caused him to smile rather curiously, for it was at 
 the expense of his infinite gullibility. What if this 
 person whom he had despised as a flaccid nonentity 
 should be the subtlest and most ingenious of im- 
 postors ? The thought made him pause. Why should 
 Sarning be more disinterested in this matter than he, 
 or than any other man ? Henry flattered himself that 
 if he was not ignorant of the character of woman, he 
 also knew something of men. Was it not a case of 
 sisters and brothers all, belonging to the one great 
 family ? 
 
 "I've just been listening to a lecture," he informed
 
 262 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 Betty a little later. "Major Sarning has been good 
 enough to take me to task on one or two of my 
 numerous deficiencies. Incidentally he also objects to 
 my interest in you." 
 
 Her heart began to beat. "I don't understand," 
 she replied in a low voice. 
 
 "The old dog's jealous," he laughed. "He thinks 
 I've cut him out." 
 
 "Oh, but he couldn't think that!" Then she 
 flushed and grew confused; but Henry was so im- 
 mensely tickled by the joke that he failed to notice 
 her confusion, or the quick tone of protest in which 
 she had spoken. 
 
 "He does, though, or I'm a blanky. I think the 
 dear old chap is beginning to dodder. He talked the 
 most arrant rubbish I have ever listened to, protesting 
 this and that virtue with the owl-like simplicity of the 
 Nonconformist conscience. But I happen to know all 
 about that conscience, and its value. He wants you 
 for himself, my dear." 
 
 "Wants me! " The blood was leaping like a tor- 
 rent in her veins. 
 
 "That's the long and the short of it, that's the real 
 meaning of this extreme solicitude. I can see through 
 him as easily as through a window. And he hasn't 
 sense enough to hide his hopes, though he is cunning 
 enough to make a show of pretence. You mustn't go 
 with me to the provinces, and you mustn't think of the 
 stage, because, of course, your gain is likely to prove 
 his loss. He has actually forbidden me to speak of 
 this matter to you." 
 
 " Forbidden you ! " 
 
 "Forbidden me! Isn't it funny! Of course one 
 can't be serious with a chap like that; though I
 
 CRUMBLING FOUNDATIONS 268 
 
 thought it a gross piece of impertinence, and told him 
 so. To be candid with you, my dear, I'm about fed 
 up with Major Sarning. By the way, I suppose he 
 is a major, though personally I should like to know 
 what of, if it isn't the Horse Marines. He was amus- 
 ing enough in his way before he grew presumptuous, 
 but between you and me he's coming it a bit too thick. 
 Preached at me as though I was a dustman : posed 
 as though he was already wearing a halo. Ridicu- 
 lous, and offensive. But tell me, my dear, have you 
 made up your mind ? " 
 
 But she did not answer him ; she was not even sure 
 that this indignant protest was heard or understood 
 by her. For her brain was ringing with the glad news 
 inadvertently proclaimed by the Actor Man. The 
 Major wanted her for himself ! If it were only true ! 
 
 Navarre, watching, saw the colour come and go, 
 and attributed it to a wholly different cause. 
 B'George, she was growing prettier every day! 
 
 "You have thought of it, then," he whispered; 
 "you will come with me?" 
 
 She looked at him with a curious, laughing look. 
 
 "When I go," she said, "it will be with a man." 
 
 "Poor old Sarning," he grinned. 
 
 Again she laughed up into his face, somewhat 
 hysterically this time ; but as he held out his arms she 
 slipped away. She seemed to laugh louder than ever 
 as she rapidly ascended the stairs. Then slowly the 
 grin died on his lips and left them serious. 
 
 He was not quite sure that he understood the mean- 
 ing of it all.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 MR. LANGFORD INTERVENES 
 
 BETTY sat sideways against the table, her chin in 
 her hand, her eyes fixed earnestly on the Major's 
 face. It was the day after her interview with Navarre, 
 and during the interim she had gone about her duties 
 like one in a dream. Something seemed to tell her 
 that her fate was approaching a crisis, and while wait- 
 ing anxiously for the verdict she yet dreaded to hear 
 it. Once or twice she thought the Major had looked 
 at her as though he intended to speak, though curi- 
 ously perverse as ever she seized every opportunity 
 to avoid him. But entering the sitting-room suddenly 
 she found him pacing up and down, evidently in deep 
 thought. He stopped dead in his walk and looked at 
 her. She, seized with a sudden and violent trembling, 
 muttered some half-formed apology and turned to go. 
 He called to her, and she looked up at him through 
 quivering lashes. 
 
 "I want to talk to you." 
 
 "Yes," she whispered. 
 
 He waved her to the chair by the table. She sank 
 into it with a throbbing brain and a heart beating as 
 though it would choke her. 
 
 " I have something rather serious to say. May I ? " 
 
 "Of course you may." 
 
 So it was coming at last ! Well, she had wanted 
 it; but there was a dreadful uncertainty in the situa- 
 tion, the thought of which almost paralyzed her. 
 
 264
 
 MR. LANGFORD INTERVENES 265 
 
 "You must understand," he began gently, "that I 
 have not forgotten the terms of our contract, such as 
 it is. I want you to remember that, and to know that 
 our one thought has been to make you happy." 
 
 "I know," she whispered. 
 
 "But at the same time I want you also to realize 
 that you are under no obligation to us. In fact, it is 
 we who are under obligation to you." She shook her 
 head. "At least we think so, and were it possible we 
 would show you in a more tangible form. Of course 
 I may have pretended a little to begin with, but I have 
 no doubt that you have long seen through the pre- 
 tence. We are not rich men." 
 
 The admission was quite superfluous : yet it was 
 made and listened to with becoming gravity. 
 
 "Why do you say this to me? " she asked. "Have 
 I ever shown you that I wanted more than I got 
 your friendship, your respect ? " 
 
 " No. It is that which has won our highest admira- 
 tion. But at the same time, my dear, it has come to 
 us that we have probably shown a good deal of selfish- 
 ness in all this. I for one swear that it was quite 
 unintentional, though I admit that is but a poor 
 excuse for the offence." 
 
 " Why do you say this ? " 
 
 "I will tell you. It is not right that we should 
 longer stand in your way." 
 
 " You want to get rid of me ? " 
 
 "On the contrary: if we were to consider our own 
 feelings in the matter that is the last thing we should 
 think of doing. But there is your side of the question, 
 and it is that which we have now to take into 
 account." 
 
 "I don't quite understand," she muttered.
 
 266 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Then let me make it clear, quite clear. First and 
 foremost, you must remember that you are absolutely 
 under no obligation to us whatever, and that if you 
 think you could improve your position in life you 
 must not hesitate to say so. We are your friends, 
 Betty, and have only one wish that you may be 
 happy." 
 
 "I am happy. I don't want to go. I could not do 
 so well for myself as you have done for me. Yet if 
 you are tired of me, if you would rather I went, I 
 will go." 
 
 "Don't misunderstand me, my dear. We are not 
 tired of you, and we don't want you to go. Let me 
 insist that you will recognize that fact. But it has 
 been said that Alfred and I are selfish, that we keep 
 you here for our own selfish ends, and that we are 
 standing in the way of your bettering yourself. Now, 
 what I want you to grasp is this : we cannot stand in 
 your way if you should wish it otherwise, for you are 
 a free agent over whom, even if we wished, we have 
 no control." 
 
 " I know all that, and I know who has charged you 
 with selfishness. What does it matter what he says ? 
 What if I know ? " 
 
 "You do know, Betty?" She nodded. "He seems 
 to think that we are doing you a great wrong. You 
 know that has not been our intention ? " 
 
 " I know. But why should you listen to him ? 
 Have I done anything to make you wish to turn me 
 away? I know I didn't come with the best creden- 
 tials; but I wasn't as bad as I might have been, and 
 I've gone straight since I knew you." 
 
 "My child, you mustn't talk like that." 
 
 "Oh, I know I'm a vulgar little thing, bred in the
 
 MR. LANGFORD INTERVENES 267 
 
 gutter, brought up in the slum ; but, s'help me Gawd, 
 I never had a chance before you gave me one. Don't 
 drive me back to it. Don't, don't ! " 
 
 She sank her head on the table and burst into a fit 
 of passionate sobbing. He rose from his seat, came 
 over to her, and laid his hand gently on her head. 
 
 "Don't give way like that," he said. "It it hurts 
 me." 
 
 She caught his hand and covered it with kisses. 
 
 "Don't send me away from you, Major: it would 
 kill me to leave you. I don't want anything, any 
 consideration : only be kind to me sometimes. Let 
 me think that I am doing some good, that I am of real 
 use. You picked me out of the streets when I was 
 desperate ; you gave me shelter ; you were kind to me 
 the only being in all the world who ever did me a 
 kindness. Let me stay with you. I ask nothing in 
 return but a kind word now and then. I want nothing, 
 except to know that you are pleased with me. I have 
 thought it all out thought over it so many times. 
 There never was any one like you in the world. Some- 
 times I wish you had not been so kind. It set you such 
 a long way off so far away from me. I was jealous 
 when I knew of her the lady of the carriage. What 
 had she done for you that I would not have done a 
 hundred times more willingly ? No, no, I do not 
 mean that. I understand. I am dirt; but I would die 
 for you." 
 
 She was at his knees now looking up at him through 
 her tears. 
 
 "You must not say these things, Betty : you don't 
 know what you are saying." 
 
 "Oh, but I know well enough. They have been 
 in my heart for a long time; they have come to my
 
 268 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 lips oftener than you would think. Didn't you 
 know ? " 
 
 " What ? " he asked rather lamely, for he was no 
 less agitated than she, though his agitation was of a 
 totally different kind. 
 
 "That I only wanted to be with you, that I asked 
 for no other reward than to serve you. Oh, I knew I 
 could never be anything much. I know what I am, 
 what you are. But I could be your servant your 
 slave if you wished it." 
 
 "Come, come," he answered gently, "you mustn't 
 talk like that. We are good pals, you know, helping 
 each other, considerate towards each other, as good 
 pals should be. We'll say no more about your going : 
 that shall be when you wish, when you have grown 
 tired of us. But in the face of what has been said I 
 could not very well remain silent, now could I ? " 
 
 "But why was anything said at all? We were so 
 happy. I knew, of course, it couldn't go on. I knew 
 it from the first. Something told me that this was 
 bound to happen." 
 
 " But nothing has happened. What can happen ? 
 We're going on just in the same old way, and nothing 
 more is to be said about the matter." 
 
 Slowly she shook her head. "No, we shall never 
 go on again in the same old way. 1 don't even think 
 that I want it." 
 
 It was his turn to express amazement. He put out 
 his hands and laid them on her shoulders, but with 
 a convulsive little shudder she slipped from under 
 them and rose to her feet. 
 
 " What is it now ? " he asked. 
 
 "Nothing, nothing." But as she turned away he 
 caught the sob in her voice.
 
 MR. LANGFORD INTERVENES 269 
 
 She went over by the window and looked out into 
 the street; but though she seemed to stare at the 
 houses opposite it was with a vacant, far-away look. 
 He came after her and touched her lightly on the 
 arm. 
 
 "What is it, Betty? Tell me. Aren't we good 
 enough friends for that ? " 
 
 Her eyes were swimming as she turned them up to 
 him. 
 
 "I must go away," she sobbed : "I can't stand any 
 more of this. I've tried, you don't know how I've 
 tried, but it's no good. I shall be better away." 
 
 " But where could you go what do ? " 
 
 "I dunno. What does it matter? It won't be the 
 first time." 
 
 "Look here," he said, "there's something more in 
 this." 
 
 "Just everything," she replied. 
 
 "Tell me." 
 
 " How can I tell you ! You would hate me." 
 
 "Betty!" 
 
 "Yes, I know. Well, I'm not ashamed of it. You 
 were the first that ever did me a kindness. You 
 don't know what that meant to me. You don't know 
 how I thought over it what it seemed. But I didn't 
 ask much. Just to be with you; to help you in little 
 things to know that you were not sorry for what you 
 had done. Of course I might have known how it 
 would all end. Well, it's come, and in a way I'm 
 rather glad. It clears things up." 
 
 She stood confronting him, trembling yet half- 
 defiant. Her great eyes were bright with tears, and 
 shining almost uncannily. A troubled look crept into 
 his face. She saw it and her lip tightened.
 
 270 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "You know," he said feebly, "you're a very wilful 
 little girl." 
 
 "I know, and I've paid for it. Bought the thing 
 dear. Perhaps I'm one of those people who are born 
 to buy things dear. You remember Mr. Aloes was 
 talking about them the other night. He said that one 
 might even buy salvation at too great a cost. I 
 wonder if he was right ? " 
 
 "Alfred talks a lot of nonsense at times. He never 
 means half he says." 
 
 "I am not so sure. Once I did not understand him ; 
 but I've learnt a lot since I've been here. Almost I 
 wish I hadn't." She saw the reproach in his glance. 
 "No, no," she added quickly, "not that either. Some- 
 thing you don't understand." 
 
 "And what if I do?'* 
 
 " I hope not. It would only make you sorry for me, 
 and I don't want that. It was a mistake, my coming : 
 that is the great truth. Well, as I came I can go. I 
 think it would be better for us all. After this, what 
 else can I do? I know I must seem very common 
 after her. She is a lady : I am of the streets. There 
 isn't room for us both. But I wouldn't have left you 
 for the greatest man in the country." 
 
 His face paled, his glance grew troubled. 
 
 "She had good reason," he said. "I was unworthy 
 of her." 
 
 "That's what you would say. I wonder if she 
 knows?" 
 
 " Knows what ? " 
 
 "The kind of man you are." 
 
 " I was not always the kind of man I am." 
 
 "I know. Oh, I've seen it : thought it all out." 
 
 "So you've thought it all out, eh ? Well, I'll wager
 
 MR. LANGFORD INTERVENES 271 
 
 the process hasn't been very edifying. But never mind 
 about me or my past : neither is worth the trouble. 
 You mustn't talk any more about going away, and all 
 that kind of nonsense. We're just the best pals in the 
 world, and we're going to stick to each other like the 
 good pals that we are. I promise you I won't say a 
 word to Alfred about it. It would distress him fright- 
 fully. Of course Henry will soon be going on tour; 
 but I dare say he'll rejoin us in the autumn, and 
 things will go on just as they've always been. 
 Promise you won't think any more of going away." 
 
 She shook her head. " I can't do that. Things are 
 so different now." 
 
 "They shall be the same again." 
 
 But they could not deceive each other : they could 
 not even deceive themselves. Aloes had foreseen the 
 consequences of her advent : even the shallow-pated 
 Actor Man had not been without some prescience. 
 Everybody had been wise but Sarning. He had hoped 
 to do nobly the one noble action of his life, and nature 
 itself rose up to thwart him. Betty's secret was not 
 altogether a secret, though never by look or word did 
 he betray a suspicion of it. Even when the thought 
 would come, as thoughts will, he hurriedly put it 
 aside. Perhaps his seeming indifference to her many 
 attentions may have been assumed. But now it seemed 
 as though the die had been cast, the Rubicon crossed. 
 With some apprehension he thought of what was to 
 follow. 
 
 In the meantime Henry found the situation any- 
 thing but to his liking. He was confronted witlva 
 double dilemma. On the one hand was his dissolute 
 wife threatening all kinds of dire catastrophes ; on the 
 other was the unconquerable obstinacy of this little
 
 272 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 wretch of the slums. If the one was a perpetual 
 menace, the other was a source of wounded vanity and 
 constant irritation. He, in his astounding magna- 
 nimity, had stooped to the gutter, and the gutter had 
 repelled him. If at one moment he felt like abandon- 
 ing the quest in disdain, his anger and injured vanity 
 at once rose in protest against such pusillanimous con- 
 duct. The girl should be taught to realize the extent 
 of the action of which she had been guilty. And that 
 Sarning should be the successful rival added not a 
 little to the chagrin of defeat. Truly the more one 
 knew of women the more there was to know. 
 
 But at the same time this other woman, for so he 
 thought of his wife, was strongly in evidence. He 
 came and went in fear and trembling. Never could 
 he put his head outside the door without first taking 
 an exhaustive survey up and down the street. At 
 every corner he expected to meet her face to face, and 
 he anticipated no pleasure therefrom. That she would 
 succeed in unearthing him was only a question of 
 time. He had not sufficient faith in his luck to believe 
 that it would shield him always. Fate has a spiteful 
 way of her own, and of her whims he went in constant 
 terror. Therefore it became necessary that he should 
 move with some rapidity, and renew his attack upon 
 the fortress. So-called impregnable fortresses have a 
 habit of surrendering if persistently assaulted. It 
 never struck him that this particular fortress could 
 possibly be termed impregnable. 
 
 He had not seen his wife since that memorable first 
 encounter when he took so incontinently to his heels; 
 but he was fatalist enough to believe that he should 
 meet her again, unless he could quickly put some good 
 long miles between them. Had he known that Mr.
 
 MR. LANGFORD INTERVENES 278 
 
 Bob Langford had constituted himself her faithful 
 knight, he might have been even more perturbed. 
 Mr. Langford was not unmindful of a certain occasion 
 when he had visited the house in Tachbrook Street, 
 and though for obvious reasons he had steered clear of 
 it, he could not forget that a certain red-haired girl 
 lived there, or that it was such a girl who had been 
 seen in the company of Mr. Navarre. 
 
 Henry was in the hall talking to Ma Nuttall when 
 a peremptory double knock came to the door. He 
 started, his nerves being somewhat awry; but Mrs. 
 NuttalPs immediate assurance that it was only the post, 
 and that he wanted to come in, relieved him of his 
 sudden and absurd fear. As she opened the door the 
 burly form of Mr. Langford presented itself. Henry 
 drew back a little. 
 
 "Beg pawdon, missis," said Mr. Langford politely, 
 "but ain't there a young lidy livin' 'ere called 
 Pendleton ? " 
 
 At the sound of Betty's name Henry stepped out 
 into the hall, the better to see and hear. It also hap- 
 pened that at the same moment Mrs. Nuttall opened 
 the door still wider. Almost immediately a woman's 
 voice cried out, " There he is ! " and as the owner of 
 that voice advanced across the doorstep she added, 
 "So I've found you at last, my beauty." 
 
 "Who are you ? " cried Ma Nuttall. 
 
 "His wife," replied the woman, pointing to Henry, 
 "and sorry I am to own it." 
 
 "Wife," exclaimed Mrs. Nuttall; " 'e ain't got no 
 wife." 
 
 "Ask him," jeered the woman; "or look at him. 
 Look at his mealy face." 
 
 Of a truth Henry was looking anything but heroic.
 
 274 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 This was another of those occasions when he did not 
 relish playing a leading part, well down centre. 
 
 "'Is pore wife wot 'e deserted an' left to starve," 
 explained Mr. Langford reproachfully. "But for 'er 
 'appenin' to meet a kind friend in London, Gawd 
 knows wot would 'a' become of 'er." 
 
 "Well I'm blowed ! " gasped Mrs. Nuttall. 
 
 There was no doubt that Henry's attitude confirmed 
 the statement. Yet she looked from accused to accuser 
 as though she found it impossible to credit her own 
 senses. 
 
 "Livin' in vice an' luxury," protested Mr. Langford 
 in a genuine outburst of virtuous indignation, "while 
 'is pore wife is trampin' the cruel streets in destitootion : 
 spendin' the money on red-'aired gals wot oughter 
 go to keep 'is lorful wife from the workus." 
 
 "Red-'aired gals?" said Mrs. Nuttall, pricking up 
 her ears. 
 
 "Yas," replied Mr. Langford. "You 'ave one 'ere, 
 I've 'card." 
 
 "Ask that beauty," cried the deserted one. 
 
 Gradually the two unwelcome visitors had pushed 
 their way into the hall, and with a grin Mr. Langford 
 quietly but firmly shut the door. 
 
 "No need to make no noise," he explained, still 
 grinning consumedly. "I know this is a respect- 
 able 'ouse, an' thet you, missis, are a respectable 
 married woman. Neighbours will tork if they git a 
 charnce, an' we don't want no rumpus of any kind. 
 Guv'nor not 'ome, I s'pose?" 
 
 He cast an apprehensive glance at the stairs. The 
 recollection of how he last descended them still 
 lingered vividly and, on the whole, unpleasantly. 
 
 "What's it mean, Mr. Navarre?" asked Mrs.
 
 MR. LANGFORD INTERVENES 275 
 
 Nuttall. But poor Henry could only look at her with 
 frightened eyes; eyes, however, which were already 
 beginning to emit sullen gleams of anger. 
 
 "Navarre," jeered the woman in a thick alcoholic 
 voice; "his name is Dudds." 
 
 "You're a liar," said Mrs. Nuttall, patly and 
 decisively. 
 
 "Am I ? " laughed the woman : "ask the beauty." 
 
 Here Henry, seeming to gain courage in despair, 
 stepped forward, his face white with passion, shame 
 and fear. 
 
 "I cannot deny that this awful creature is my wife, 
 but I do deny that she has any claim on my con- 
 sideration." 
 
 "Well I'm blowed," gasped Mrs. Nuttall once 
 again. It seemed as though for the first time in her 
 life her astounding gift of eloquence had deserted her. 
 
 "Look at her," he continued excitedly, his lips pale 
 and trembling with passion, "a drunken, disreputable 
 sot, associating with that dirty loafer. D'you suppose 
 I left her without good cause, do you suppose I could 
 live with a thing like that? I tried all I knew to 
 redeem her, but it was useless. She disgraced me at 
 every turn, pawned all my things, and led me the life 
 of a dog. I'll have nothing more to do with her. 
 She can go to the devil for all I care." 
 
 "I suppose so," whined Mrs. Navarre. "A lot 
 you care what becomes of your w y ife so long as you're 
 left to flaunt it with other women." 
 
 "An' look 'ere," added Mr. Langford threateningly, 
 "call me a dirty loafer again an' I'll smash yer 
 blinkin' jor. Who are you callin' nimes, I'd like ter 
 know. I find this pore woman deserted in the 
 streets," he was appealing to Ma Nuttall now, "an' 
 s 2
 
 276 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 becos I tike pity on 'er an' try to 'elp 'er, I 'ave this 
 tike flingin' mud at me. If you was 'arf a man I'd 
 twist yer blarsted neck." 
 
 He certainly looked a formidable personage, one 
 who was quite capable of carrying out his threat; 
 and though Henry knew himself to be a superb hero 
 on the stage, capable of the most doughty deeds of 
 derring-do, he was not the stuff of which pugilists are 
 made. Moreover, this fellow had a forbidding jaw, 
 and a cold blue eye that glittered evilly. But Ma 
 Nuttall was not afraid of any man living, unless it 
 was her Bill when in liquor, and with true heroism 
 she came to her darling's rescue. 
 
 "What's it to do with you, anyway? You've got 
 no right to come stickin' your nose in between 'usband 
 an' wife. This is my 'ouse, an' you 'ad better 'op it." 
 
 "Keep your 'air on, missis," said Bob. "My on'y 
 objik is to 'elp this pore lidy in 'er trouble." 
 
 "Then 'elp yourself oph, an' don't come makin' no 
 shindies 'ere, because I won't 'ave it. I would 'ave 
 you know that this is a respectable 'ouse." 
 
 "I dare say you would," he sneered. There was no 
 mistaking the tone. Ma Nuttall flushed. 
 
 " What you mean, you dirty tike ? " 
 
 "You needn't make a bloomin' song about it. I 
 'appen to know the kind o' lodgers you keep gals 
 with red 'air. I was 'er first love, Gawd bless 'er. 
 Arst 'er if she's forgotten Bawb Langford." 
 
 Bob Langford ! 
 
 Henry started, then looked at the fellow with 
 renewed interest. This coarse, dissipated-looking 
 brute ! Things were even worse than he had 
 imagined. It seemed as though this last admission 
 had crowned the whole hideous business. Here was
 
 MR. LANGFORD INTERVENES 277 
 
 a nice position in which to find himself. The sordid 
 horror of it all seemed for a moment to weigh him 
 down. And he had actually treated her with some of 
 his most exquisite consideration ! 
 
 "I don't know who you are, or what you are," 
 cried Ma Nuttall hotly, knowing nothing of Bob 
 Langford or his reputation, and feeling only a vast 
 indignation in the knowledge that as mistress of the 
 house she was being subjected to some vague indig- 
 nity. "An' don't you come 'ollerin' round 'ere 
 creatin' a disturbance, or I'll soon lay the pleece on to 
 you." 
 
 "Nice p'yment for doin' a good turn to a pore lidy 
 in trouble," whined Bob, his tongue in his cheek. 
 
 "An' a nice sort of beauty you are to 'elp any 
 woman," retorted Mrs. Nuttall. "Get out! I carn't 
 bide the look of you. You make me sick." 
 
 "I'll bloomin' well make you sicker, you fat cow, if 
 you don't keep a civil tongue in your 'ead." 
 
 Ma Nuttall looked as though she would explode. 
 
 "Fat cow, am I ?" she gasped; "fat cow, am I, you 
 dirty dog? I on'y wish my 'usband was 'ere. 'E'd 
 give you fat cow, you jail-bird." 
 
 "Well, then, you shouldn't go callin' nimes," said 
 Mr. Langford. "I come on a mission of peace an' 
 good-will, just as though it was Christmas, lovtn' me 
 errin' brothers an' sisters like a trew Christing, an' 
 you start oph flingin' mud in me teeth. Wish I was 
 stiff before I laid meself out to act the good 
 Samariting." 
 
 "You won't 'urt yourself with doin' no good," was 
 the retort. 
 
 "Anyway," replied Bob, glowering at Henry, who 
 was not a little relieved to find Ma Nuttall stepping
 
 278 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 into the breach, "I come 'ere to see justice done to 
 this pore lidy; an' I mean to see it done, too, an' you 
 can 'ave a bit both ways on that." 
 
 Though Bob spoke boldly his glance alternately 
 wandered from her to the stairs; and even when he 
 was not looking at the latter it was evident that his 
 attention was divided. Henry remained mute, realiz- 
 ing that if the battle was to be won his champion 
 would win it for him. His hopes increased proportion- 
 ately with her indignation. He could have blessed 
 Bob for calling her a fat cow. Had he searched the 
 English language from beginning to end he could not 
 have unearthed a more opprobrious epithet, or one 
 more likely to give unpardonable offence. 
 
 "If you think you're going to bully me," she replied 
 hotly, "you'll find pretty quick that you've come to 
 the wrong shop. You'd best clear out of this before 
 you're made to." 
 
 Mr. Langford threw another quick glance at the 
 stairs : then for a moment or so he seemed to listen 
 attentively. Reassured by the absence of footsteps 
 from above his face assumed an insolent and pro- 
 vocative smile. 
 
 " Who's going to mike me ? " he asked. Though 
 the question was apparently launched at her, there 
 was no doubt that it also included the Actor Man. 
 
 "I will," said Henry boldly. 
 
 "I don't fink," sneered Mr. Langford. But even 
 beneath the smile his blue eyes were gleaming evilly, 
 while his heavy mouth dropped in a manner which 
 made it extremely forbidding. "P'raps you'd like 
 to try it on ? " he continued in an insinuating tone. 
 "P'raps you're longing for a broken jor or a twisted 
 neck? Anythink to oblige a gentleman."
 
 MR. LANGFORD INTERVENES 279 
 
 But perhaps the gentleman was not longing for 
 anything of the sort. The only longing he had just 
 then was to batter that insolent, wicked face. Yet 
 discretion warned him of the danger of such an 
 attempt. The stage direction did not implicitly state 
 that he \vas to overcome the villain. The chances 
 seemed in favour of the villain. Another instance of 
 art and nature being at strife. 
 
 "I'll go and call the police," said Henry, taking a 
 step towards the door. But Mr. Langford, assuming 
 a threatening attitude, blocked the way. 
 
 "You move," he growled, "an' it'll be your larst 
 move on earth." 
 
 Henry's retreat was rather more precipitate than his 
 advance. Air. Langford smiled grimly. 
 
 "Now, missis, just listen to reason," he continued 
 aggressively, though meaning his manner to be mild, 
 "an' see if we carn't come to some onderstanding. 
 My on'y objick is to 'elp this pore lidy. She come to 
 me with a tile of distress that softened me 'eart; an' 
 though I don't profess to be no better than me neigh- 
 bours, yet right is right, an' justice is justice." 
 
 "You're a pretty beauty to tork about justice," 
 replied Mrs. Nuttall. "If you 'ad justice it would tike 
 the form of an 'empen collar." 
 
 "Well, I wouldn't be the first wot died in a good 
 cause, an' I don't suppose I shall be the larst. All the 
 sime, I'm not goin' to be torked to by that fat-'eaded 
 blighter. Why don't 'e git 'is bloomin' 'air cut?" 
 
 "It's the Gov'ment as'll cut yours before you're 
 much older if you don't clear out of this." 
 
 "I'll git out when it suits me, an' not before." 
 
 He had no doubt now of his position. Such a hub- 
 bub of voices must surely have brought that long
 
 280 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 one to the stairs had he been in the house. That he 
 gave no sign of his presence was proof positive that 
 he could not be in. As for the Actor Man, he did 
 not think him worthy of a second thought. A plump 
 pudding like that only needed one good punch to 
 dissolve in paste. 
 
 Ma Nuttall turned a despairing glance to her dar- 
 ling of the wavy locks. 
 
 "Chuck 'im out, Mr. Navarre," she cried; "I order 
 you to chuck 'im out." 
 
 "Yas," grinned Bob, "came an' chuck me out. 
 Carn't you 'ear wot the lidy says? " 
 
 He squared up in formidable fashion, and showed 
 his teeth and the whites of his eyes in a way that made 
 Henry turn giddy with apprehension. Chuck a tiger 
 and a hyaena out yes and a whole cage full of boa 
 constrictors ! 
 
 "I wouldn't dirty my hands by touching him," said 
 Henry. 
 
 Bob laughed a long, low, insinuating laugh, a 
 laugh that sent a shiver down poor Henry's spine. 
 Yet, frightened as he was, he was yet trembling with 
 fury; but it was the fury of a woman, of a child, of 
 one who was only too painfully conscious of his own 
 impotence. A woman would have given the fellow 
 the full length of her tongue, even were she to die 
 for it. But even this harmless satisfaction was denied 
 him. That burly scoundrel with the prodigious fists 
 and the scowling face looked as though he might 
 immediately resent an undue freedom of language, 
 and Henry had his personal appearance to consider. 
 Were it not for the risk of that he would have 
 flattened the fellow without a moment's hesitation. 
 
 Ma Nuttall looked about her in despair. This was a
 
 MR. LANGFORD INTERVENES 281 
 
 pretty state of things to be bearded and defied in her 
 own house, and impotent to assert her authority. It 
 was this last thought which angered her more than all 
 the others, and her annoyance was fast turning from 
 the cause of it to poor Henry, when her quick ear 
 caught the sound of a light step on the stairs. Look- 
 ing up, she saw the benevolent face of Major Sarning 
 beaming down upon her. She turned from him with 
 a snort of disgust. Pretty set of weak-kneed, white- 
 livered curs she had about her ! She could make 
 better men out of dough. 
 
 But undaunted by her snort the Major descended 
 the stairs, and coming full upon the quartette he 
 opened his mild eyes with an air of glad astonishment. 
 
 "Why, it's Mr. Langford," he exclaimed in the 
 pleased tone of one who is greeting an old friend. 
 
 "My Gawd ! " groaned poor Mrs. Nuttall. 
 
 Mr. Langford hastily, and rather surreptitiously, 
 removed his cap.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 MRS. NUTTALL SEES A MIRACLE 
 
 THE Major beamed benevolence on the four. 
 
 "I hope I'm not intruding?" he said. 
 
 "Oh, not at all," replied Mrs. Nuttall in a scathing 
 tone. "This is open 'ouse for every blackguard to 
 enter when 'e pleases." 
 
 The advent of Major Sarning seemed but to add to 
 her exasperation. A nice set of so-called men seemed 
 to be encumbering the earth these days. Men, were 
 they ! She would have found no difficulty in furbish- 
 ing up a few less flattering titles. 
 
 "What's amiss?" he asked mildly. 
 
 "Oh, nothink," she answered in the same uncom- 
 promising tone. "We was on'y just 'avin' a nice 
 little fambly chat about things, seein' 'ow polite we 
 could be to each other without doin' no 'arm. We 
 'aven't 'arf been enjoyin' ourselves. Bah, if Bill 
 Nuttall was 'ere 'e'd know 'ow to tork to some of 
 you." 
 
 "I don't quite understand," replied the Major, look- 
 ing from one to the other. 
 
 "Don't seem to me that it would matter much if 
 you did." 
 
 There was no doubt of her contempt. Yet the 
 Major preserved his angelic purity of expression. 
 Also there may have been a little pretence of dulness. 
 
 282
 
 MRS. NUTTALL SEES A MIRACLE 283 
 
 "I don't suppose it would. Yet it seemed to me, 
 from what I could hear, that you were in some sort of 
 trouble, and I came down to see if I could be of any 
 assistance." 
 
 "You! Lumme!" 
 
 She was not one of those who wrapped disdain in 
 lavender, or trod on corns with velvet slippers. Yet 
 the insult did not seem to affect him in the least. 
 Quietly his mild eyes surveyed the little group, resting 
 first on Henry, who trembled and fidgeted like a 
 nervous woman, then on Henry's wife, who peered 
 up at Sarning through insolent, bleared eyes; and 
 finally on Mr. Langford himself. Perhaps those eyes 
 grew a trifle sterner as they rested on the redoubtable 
 Bob. True, that hero struggled hard to present a 
 determined front to his gaunt enemy; but cold and 
 evil as those blue eyes were, they flinched beneath the 
 steady gaze of the grey ones. 
 
 "To what are we indebted for this honour, Mr. 
 Langford ? " asked the Major. 
 
 Mr. Langford glared at him. He remembered that 
 manner so well, that soft insinuating tone : almost 
 those very words. The manner and the word had 
 once inveigled him to dire catastrophe. He wasn't 
 going to be caught in that trap a second time. 
 
 "It's like this, guv'nor," he began. "This pore 
 lidy, bein' in trouble like 
 
 "I understand perfectly," interrupted the Major. 
 "You have constituted yourself her champion ? " 
 
 "Yas," said Bob. 
 
 "A highly laudable proceeding on your part. I am 
 glad to see that your honourable instincts prompt you 
 to aid beauty in distress." 
 
 "Yas," said Mr. Langford once again, flinging a
 
 284 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 surreptitious glance in the direction of Major Sarn- 
 ing's knuckles. Occasionally he had dreamt a wicked 
 dream of those brutal knuckles incessantly jabbing 
 him in the mouth. Do what he would, he could not 
 keep them out of his face. 
 
 "But are you quite sure that this is any concern 
 of yours ? " insinuated trie Major. 
 
 Bob had no illusions left. He knew that he was 
 being baited; knew that behind that lamb-like ques- 
 tioning was a very serious purpose, and a pair of 
 hands that could drive a purpose home with hammer- 
 like effect. At the same time he turned white with a 
 seething fury, and yearned to tread that face out of 
 all semblance to humanity. 
 
 "When a pore lidy is sufferin' a crool wrong- 
 he began. 
 
 "Exactly," said the Major. "It is then your heroic, 
 self-sacrificing instincts rise in revolt. You, I take 
 it, are the kind of man who was born to champion the 
 cause of down-trodden woman. Very noble of you, 
 Mr. Langford. I hope the ladies appreciate your 
 solicitude ? " 
 
 "'E's a dirty tike," gasped Mrs. Nuttall, who was 
 fast losing patience with the Major's idiotic conduct 
 of this affair, and who saw nothing in his manner of 
 carrying on the negotiation but a cowardly vacilla- 
 tion. "'E comes into my 'ouse, sets 'isself on the 
 doormat, an* refuses to budge." 
 
 "Dear me," exclaimed the Major, "can that be 
 possible ! Refuses to budge, you say ? " 
 
 "Says 'e'll go when 'e likes an' come when 'e likes; 
 an' I 'aven't a man in the 'ouse that dares to say 
 boo to *im." 
 
 "But did you request him to leave? "
 
 MRS. NUTTALL SEES A MIRACLE 285 
 
 "Did I request 'im to leave!" Her words were 
 full of a great contempt. "Did I threaten 'im with 
 the pleece ! But no. 'E plants 'isself on the mat, 
 calls me a fat cow, an' be'aves as though 'e was a 
 lord 'igh admiral." 
 
 "You must be mistaken, Mrs. Nuttall; because he's 
 going now this very moment." 
 
 Mrs. Nuttall's face was a study of blank bewilder- 
 ment. 
 
 "Ow ! Coin', is 'e ! Who's goin' to mike 'im ? " 
 
 "I shall request him to go," said the Major, honour- 
 ing Bob with a comprehensive glance. 
 
 Ma Nuttall had always a suspicion that her military 
 lodger was a shingle short. Now she was sure of it. 
 He was going to request him ! So might the lamb 
 request the lion to spare her feelings. 
 
 "This lady informs me that she has requested you 
 to leave the house," continued the Major, turning and 
 addressing Bob. "Perhaps you didn't hear her or 
 quite understand ? " 
 
 "Yas, I 'card 'er; but what I wanter know is, what 
 abaht this pore lidy ? " 
 
 "As I said before, Mr. Langford, that is no con- 
 cern of yours. This lady has her remedy. I presume 
 you are leaving us at once ? " 
 
 "Yas, I'm goin'. I don't wanter stay in the 
 bloomin' 'ouse, mixin' myself up with a lot of rotten 
 crackpots." 
 
 "No, I wouldn't if I were you. As for you, 
 madam," he continued, turning and addressing Mrs. 
 Henry, who during all this time had stood drunkenly 
 blinking from one to the other, "if you take my advice 
 you will have nothing further to do with this fellow. 
 He is one of those creatures who sacrifice ^omen for
 
 286 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 their own ends. Fate seems to have given him a 
 fairly long tether, but one of these days she will pull 
 it up with a jerk." He wound an imaginary noose 
 round his neck and pointed upward. 
 
 "Look out it isn't for you," said Bob. 
 
 The Major smiled, but without speaking went and 
 opened the door. Nevertheless, he kept one corner of 
 his eye on Mr. Langford. 
 
 "Come along, ole gal," said Bob. "We know 
 where to go an' what to do, an' we'll be even with 
 you yet. You think you're very clever, but I ain't 
 forgettin' yer. Just wite, that's all." 
 
 But he was over the threshold by this, and the 
 woman was slowly and stupidly following him. 
 
 "I'm not forgetting you either," she said to Henry. 
 "I'll have the law of you, see if I don't." 
 
 "As for you," continued Mr. Langford, glaring at 
 the Major, "we shall meet again one of these days 
 when you ain't got a bloomin' army to back you up, 
 an' then look out for yerself. An' don't forgit to 
 give my love to me ole tart. Tell 'er I'm witin' fer 
 'er too, an' that I won't 'ave nothink to s'y to 'er; 
 oh, no, not 'arf a blinkin' word. An' as for you, you 
 greasy ole cow ' he continued, addressing Ma 
 Nuttall. But the Major, slamming the door in his 
 face, cut short his eloquence. Then he turned to 
 Henry with a reassuring smile. 
 
 "Gome," gasped Mrs. Nuttall, as though she could 
 scarcely credit the miracle : "lumme I " 
 
 "In another moment I would have chucked the 
 fellow out," said Henry. 
 
 Ma Nuttall opened wide both eyes and mouth as she 
 looked at him. 
 
 "You!" she said.
 
 MRS. NUTTALL SEES A MIRACLE 287 
 
 "I was only waiting to see how far he would go." 
 
 "Lor' lumme," murmured the good woman, "lemme 
 sit down somewhere." 
 
 Navarre turned triumphantly to the Major. 
 
 "Now do you blame me? You see what she is, a 
 filthy wretch, disgusting, abandoned." 
 
 "I blame no one," answered the other. "Some- 
 times I even try not to blame myself." 
 
 "At all events, you can't expect me to have any- 
 thing more to do with her." 
 
 "That is a matter for you and your conscience." 
 
 "Though I have no^ conscience where she is con- 
 cerned, I suppose I have as much as most people. 
 Anyway, I don't see that you have any cause to come 
 the super-virtuous touch." 
 
 "My dear fellow, no one knows that better than I." 
 
 " I suppose you would try to save her ? " 
 
 There was no mistaking the sneer : yet Sarning 
 seemed not to notice the intention to affront. 
 
 "What I would do cannot influence you in the 
 least, so why discuss it ? " 
 
 "I have no such intention." 
 
 "But what I wanter know," interposed Ma Nuttall, 
 who seemed gradually to emerge from her world of 
 astonishment, "is 'ow you managed to manage it, 
 Major? I feel sure the feller wouldn't 'ave gorne 
 if you 'adn't come. 'E was as 'aughty with Mr. 
 Navarre as you please : would a smarshed 'im inter 
 little bits for two pins. But as soon as you come 
 along 'e crumples up like a bit of old piper." 
 
 "It was only his bluff," said Henry. "He knew 
 I was waiting my chance." 
 
 "It didn't strike me like that," she said. "Seemed 
 to me as though you was frightened to death of 'im."
 
 288 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "It was my intention to arouse in him a sense of 
 false security." 
 
 But from the look of her it was evident that this 
 explanation was not deemed entirely satisfactory. 
 She turned from him to the Major, who had risen like 
 a balloon in her estimation. 
 
 "You scared the life out of 'im," she said admir- 
 ingly. "I never thought you 'ad it in you. 'Ow 
 was it ? " 
 
 "Mr. Langford and I had met before." 
 
 "You're not goin' to tell me you leathered 'im?" 
 
 "I think we understand each other." 
 
 She made no attempt to conceal her admiration. 
 
 "I wouldn't 'a' believed it of you, Major. I never 
 thought you 'ad a scrap o' fight in you." 
 
 "I have long since abandoned such evil habits," he 
 explained. "The fellow's roaring disturbed me. 
 With your permission I will return and finish my 
 article for The Epoch." 
 
 Then Mrs. Nuttall became guilty of an unparalleled 
 outburst of generosity. 
 
 "I've a quartern of the whitest down in the 
 kitching," she said. "Won't you come an' 'ave a 
 drain ? " 
 
 "No, thank you very much. I must finish this 
 article. It's rather an interesting subject : The 
 Psychology of the Protoplasm." 
 
 "Lumme," she gasped, "what's that?" 
 
 "Just what I'm trying to find out." 
 
 He smiled at her in his gentle way and softly 
 ascended the stairs, going as noiselessly as he had 
 come. Ma Nuttall stared after him, the prey of an 
 amazing bewilderment. Yet through the confusion 
 of her mind one thought seemed to stand out above
 
 MRS. NUTTALL SEES A MIRACLE 289 
 
 all others, and this she clutched with true feminine 
 tenacity. 
 
 "My Gawd," she muttered to herself, "'e's a man 
 after all ! " 
 
 "You all seem to be getting besotted over him," 
 cried Henry in a peevish voice. 
 
 Steadily she looked at him : her lips trembled, but 
 with an effort she checked the rush of words, swung 
 round and waddled slowly towards the kitchen stairs. 
 
 "You can take a week's notice," he shouted after 
 her. 
 
 He was seething with indignation. The advent of 
 his wife with her cavalier had seemed the limit to all 
 earthly degradation. Never had he been placed in a 
 position so humiliating, and he was a man who had 
 known many strange vicissitudes of fortune; never 
 had his dignity received so gross an affront. If he 
 had previously despised and detested his wife, he 
 positively hated her now with that intense, obstinate 
 hatred which is the sole strength of weak natures. 
 And he, perhaps, hated her not so much for herself 
 as for this further indignity she had heaped upon 
 him ; for to be saved from chastisement by Major 
 Sarning seemed to his hot fancy the greatest humilia- 
 tion of all. Major Sarning ! Even this fat fool of a 
 woman seemed ready to fall down and worship. But 
 for Major Sarning he would already have gained a 
 victory over Betty Pendleton. What was it about the 
 fellow that won the respect of women ? For the life 
 of him he could not see. But then who could say 
 what a woman would or would not do : what sane 
 person could reasonably calculate with unreason ? 
 Women, he would have no more to do with them. 
 He was sick to death of them. They had brought
 
 290 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 him nothing but worry and trouble. Every moment 
 of gallantry was bought with an hour of suffering : 
 every hour of real pleasure was purchased with years 
 of pain. 
 
 He deplored his weakness : yet even amid his self- 
 revilings he knew the little red-headed devil, as he 
 called her, had her fascinations. And he was not so 
 sure that Sarning ought to be left in undisputed pos- 
 session of the field. Personal honour was at stake : 
 his reputation trembled in the balance. His connec- 
 tion with the drama had proved conclusively that 
 however precariously situated the hero might be, he 
 eventually managed to surmount all difficulties. And 
 he was always a hero to himself. 
 
 Nor was he slow to make the opportunity. Before 
 she had a chance of learning of Mr. Langford's visit, 
 or of the Major's interposition, he waylaid her, and 
 renewed his suit with some eloquent argument. 
 Naturally it was for herself he pleaded. Yet to her 
 his arguments seemed deplorably unconvincing, nor 
 did they gain any freshness by repetition. It was 
 easy enough to talk of the glorious future that awaited 
 her, but she was hopelessly unsanguine. Ambition 
 had never been the fetish of her existence : it is a 
 difficult plant to rear in uncongenial soil. Were it 
 not so some people would not find life so easy. 
 
 "It's come to this," he said: "I'm leaving London 
 almost immediately, and if you care to come I'll see 
 that the way is made smooth for you. I know I can 
 get you a walk on, perhaps a small part. It's the 
 start you want. After that everything will come 
 easy." 
 
 But she shook her head. She had no wish to 
 offend him, for was he not one of the three who had
 
 MRS. NUTTALL SEES A MIRACLE 291 
 
 come to her and helped her to the only peace she had 
 ever known"? That he should now expect some return 
 for it did not greatly surprise her. That until now 
 no return had been expected was the greatest surprise 
 of all. 
 
 "I don't think I am fitted for the stage," she 
 answered evasively. "It must be so difficult to 
 succeed." 
 
 "Not a bit of it. Look at me ! I mean to say," 
 he added quickly, "not difficult for those with talent 
 and intelligence, both of which I know you to possess 
 in a remarkable degree. Let me tell you that you are 
 trifling with the chance of a lifetime. I may be 
 wrong, but I fail to see what other profession you 
 could adopt with a like hope of success. Moreover, I, 
 personally, will take you under my wing. I am very 
 fond of you, my dear; you could make me love you 
 if you only tried. Don't you think you would like 
 to try ? " 
 
 "I would rather not go," she said. 
 
 "But think what I can do for you ! I don't mind 
 telling you that I'm about fed up with things as they 
 are, and I'm clearing out just as soon as I can manage 
 it. You must be just as sick of this life as I am. 
 If you stay here what hope is there for you ? " 
 
 " What hope is there for me if I go ? " 
 
 "You'll have me to look after you ! I offer you 
 the chance of your life. What can they offer you 
 but drudgery, the life of a domestic servant ? You 
 know as well as I that you were never cut out for that 
 sort of thing. I'll make a great actress of you, and 
 bring you to London as a star. You were born to 
 play Juliet." 
 
 And still the prospect did not seem to charm, which 
 
 T 2
 
 292 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 puzzled him considerably, knowing, as he did, the 
 vanity of woman. But the one thing he did not seem 
 to know, or to realize, was that a woman would rather 
 wash dishes for one man than be taught to play Juliet 
 by another. Nor will all the sophistries of the eman- 
 cipated ever rid her of that weakness. 
 
 "Not even to play Juliet," she said. True, she 
 knew little of Juliet and cared less; but from his 
 manner of speaking she gathered that that young lady 
 was deemed by him to be a most important personage. 
 
 "Then why not?" She hung her head. "Come 
 now, you can't have any scruples? " 
 
 "That would be absurd," she admitted, flushing 
 ever so slightly. "No, I have no scruples, as you 
 call it. All the same, I'm not going." 
 
 The little teeth went together. If Henry had not 
 been such a superficial observer he could not have 
 failed to see the will power behind the look she turned 
 on him. 
 
 "You're an obstinate little fool, and deserve all 
 you're likely to get; and that'll be Bob Langford 
 when Sarning has finished with you." 
 
 "No, it won't," she replied determinedly: "I've 
 done with all that." 
 
 " Done with it ! How can you be done with it ? 
 You little fool, you don't know what you're talking 
 about. You can't be done with it : it won't let you. 
 You make me angry with your nonsense, and I don't 
 want to be angry with you. You mustn't think that 
 you'll find the rest of the world as generous as you've 
 found us. I give you a chance to get out of it all, 
 to begin afresh. It's a proposition worth thinking 
 over." 
 
 " I have thought over it : I have thought over many
 
 MRS. NUTTALL SEES A MIRACLE 293 
 
 things that you would never dream of. You have 
 been very kind to me, Mr. Navarre, and I can't tell 
 you how grateful I am. Please don't spoil it all." 
 
 The face was hers, but the voice was the voice of 
 Sarning. It was so that hypocritical old bounder 
 would confront his enemy in mock humility, making 
 a pretence of turning the other cheek. Now Henry 
 had never turned the other cheek to one whom he 
 fancied he had some chance of besting, nor did he 
 believe that any man who had ever succeeded in this 
 world did so by virtue of that most humiliating pre- 
 cept. Woe unutterable attended such contemptible 
 pusillanimity. The Great Exemplar himself was 
 crucified ! 
 
 "That's Sarning's whine," he said; "I'd know it in 
 a thousand. He comes that touch with the best of 
 them and makes hay all the time. Oh, I know him 
 now, the canting old humbug. There are lots like 
 him, and a pretty good time they have of it all round. 
 At the same time I'm rather curious to know what 
 you expect him to do for you ? " 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "Then you're not likely to be disappointed. He 
 can't do anything for himself, poor blighter. Half 
 his time he doesn't know what it is to have a good 
 square meal. If it wasn't for me 
 
 "He has often told me how good both you and 
 Mr. Aloes have been to him." 
 
 "Then he has the grace to admit so much ? " 
 
 "Don't you know him better than that?" 
 
 Henry looked a little ashamed of himself. Yet he 
 felt that she was taking rather an unfair advantage 
 of him : cutting the ground from under his feet. 
 Moreover, he knew himself to be a strong, resolute
 
 294 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 man, and resolute men were not easily swayed, or 
 turned aside from a fixed, determined purpose. 
 Again, he did not quite believe in Betty's present 
 attitude, deeming it nothing better than a pale reflex 
 of Sarning at his worst. The girl was clever in her 
 way, and probably ambitious, and such people are 
 dangerous. She might even dream of rehabilitation. 
 Who knows ? The thought caused a further thought, 
 which caused a smile. 
 
 "Oh, I know him well enough," he replied; "but 
 I'm hanged if I know you." 
 
 "You know all about me. What more is there to 
 know?" 
 
 But he was not so sure that he knew all about her. 
 It was that which was causing him so much concern. 
 
 "Look here," he said sharply, "it's no use talking 
 like a pair of fools. I'm offering you a jolly good 
 thing." 
 
 " He always said you were kind." 
 
 " He ! Damn him ! Why are you always quoting 
 him ! What do I care what he says, or thinks ? And 
 you I hope you're not taking to sneering like Aloes. 
 If it's not one it's the other. You had a mind and 
 personality of your own when you came here. Now 
 you're nothing but an echo of them." 
 
 "I am glad of that." 
 
 "Then let me tell you that you're losing your most 
 priceless possession." 
 
 "I hope so." 
 
 He looked into the great serious eyes but could not 
 read them. Whatever meaning lay in their depths 
 he saw nothing but a mulish obstinacy. His nerves 
 began to jangle in a most intolerable manner. 
 
 " What is he to you ? " he asked suddenly.
 
 MRS. NUTTALL SEES A MIRACLE 295 
 
 "A friend." 
 
 "I know that kind of friend." 
 
 "But you also are my friend and Mr. Aloes." 
 
 Would nothing rouse her ? It was the attitude that 
 annoyed him ; the determination on her part not to 
 quarrel. This was Sarning all over. She had learnt 
 her lesson only too well. But it struck him as being 
 eminently ridiculous, and he began to tell her so in 
 somewhat heated language when Sarning entered the 
 room. 
 
 Henry looked him up and down in a manner which 
 plainly told him that he was intruding; but Betty 
 uttered a little gasp of relief. Both men heard it 
 quite distinctly ; but while the countenance of the one 
 remained absolutely impassive, the other flushed 
 angrily. There was even insolence in the interroga- 
 tive stare which Henry turned on the newcomer. 
 
 "Thought you were alone, my dear fellow," began 
 the Major. 
 
 "Now that you see I'm not " 
 
 "I am going, Major," said Betty quickly, edging 
 towards the door. 
 
 "There is no necessity," returned Navarre. 
 
 "Perhaps not," added the Major. "It may be that 
 I am the intruder? " 
 
 "Naturally, my dear fellow, you know best." 
 
 But Betty was already at the door, and flinging 
 a swift imploring glance in the direction of Sarning, 
 which was not unnoticed by Navarre, she quickly but 
 softly closed the door behind her. 
 
 Sarning offered his packet of cigarettes to Henry, 
 who with a sharp wave of his hand refused the offer. 
 Unabashed the Major extracted one, lit it, and exhaled 
 several deep clouds with evident enjoyment. Then he
 
 296 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 crossed over to the window and took a long survey 
 of the street. On the other side of the road a soldier 
 man was escorting a nursemaid. The girl, lost in 
 admiration of the gallant fellow, was looking up at 
 him with adoring eyes. The watcher was interested 
 in seeing if the perambulator would collide with the 
 lamp-post which they were slowly approaching. But 
 no. Instinctively the girl seemed to guide the 
 machine out of danger. The Major ruminated. 
 Even, perhaps, more wonderful than the way of a 
 man with a maid is the way of a maid with a man.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 BEYOND THE REACH OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 THE Major turned slowly, advanced as slowly to the 
 table, stopped, and looked steadily at his companion. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Well ? " echoed the other a little defiantly. 
 
 "Have you prevailed?" 
 
 "Really, Sarning, is that any concern of yours?" 
 
 " Perhaps not ; but I am a little curious." 
 
 "I'm afraid I cannot satisfy your curiosity." 
 
 "Don't let us quarrel, old boy." 
 
 "Then you must cease to interest yourself in my 
 affairs." 
 
 "But this is our affair." 
 
 "I don't happen to think so." 
 
 The Major took several long puffs at his cigarette. 
 
 " Wy don't you leave her alone, Henry? " 
 
 "Why should I?" 
 
 "The poor little devil's trying to go straight. It 
 would be a pity if if anything happened to throw 
 her back. I wish you would leave her alone." 
 
 " For you ? " 
 
 A quick, almost savage, gleam shot from Charles 
 Sarning's eyes. 
 
 "No, no, you're quite wrong. You don't know how 
 wrong you are." 
 
 "So you say." 
 
 297
 
 298 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Of course you don't mean that? " 
 " Why not ? Are you so immaculate ? " 
 "Perhaps I follow you. But you mustn't think 
 that, old boy. I believe there's an awful lot of good 
 in the girl. We've only touched the surface of her so 
 far. There's grit deep down : the sort of grit we'd 
 like to see in our own women-folk. You see, she 
 hasn't had much of a chance : never quite knew which 
 road to take, or which road she was taking." 
 "Rubbish!" 
 
 "You know, I don't think so. I've studied her 
 pretty closely since she's been with us." A smile 
 passed over Henry's face, the meaning of which may 
 or may not have been lost on the other. "Subjected 
 her to all sorts of mental tests, as far as my ability to 
 do so lay. She's stood 'em pretty well." 
 
 "I dare say. But look here, Sarning, isn't it about 
 time we were candid with each other? Frankly, you 
 object to a rival ? " 
 
 "Not at all. I merely object to you." 
 "Why?" But there was an ugly look in Henry's 
 eyes, an ugly sneer on his mouth. 
 "You have a wife." 
 
 "Good Lord, you don't suppose that if I hadn't 
 "That is precisely why I wish you to leave her 
 alone. It's rather hard on her, you know. You see, 
 old boy, if we don't show her that we respect and 
 appreciate her efforts how can we hope that she will 
 respect herself? D'you see my meaning?" 
 
 "I see what you would have me believe to be your 
 meaning. You must take me for an awful chump. 
 Perhaps there are some ingenuous souls who may 
 believe in such disinterested philanthropy. Unhappily 
 I cannot count myself among the number. You are
 
 BEYOND THE REACH OF PHILOSOPHY 299 
 
 much too good for this world : you ought to unpack 
 your wings." 
 
 "Look here, Henry, you're talking mere foolish- 
 ness, and you know it." 
 
 "Well, then, let it be foolishness. Damn it all, who 
 d'you think I am, and who d'you think you are, that 
 you should talk to me ! I'm fairly fed up with it, 
 and so I tell you. I'll do as I like, and you can go 
 to the devil. Is that plain English ? " 
 
 The Major's mouth hardened ever so little. 
 
 "Perfectly. Of course you'll do what you like, my 
 dear fellow ; but you won't do what you like with her." 
 
 "That is for me to say." 
 
 " Perhaps it is also for her." 
 
 "Of course, if you expressly forbid us." 
 
 "Come, come, old boy. We're not going to quarrel 
 over it. You'll soon be trotting off to the provinces, 
 and we may as well part good friends. Why, we may 
 never see each other again." 
 
 " I hope not." 
 
 "You'll really be sorry when it's all over. You feel 
 a curious sort of honour impelling you to deny your 
 better nature. In your heart you don't wish her harm, 
 but at present you see no distinction between renuncia- 
 tion and defeat. You fear to wound your pride; but 
 it wouldn't. On the contrary, it would be further 
 proof of the good chap I know you to be." 
 
 But this was one of those occasions in which the 
 soft answer did not turn away wrath. Rather did it 
 seem to inflame it. Navarre flared out 
 
 "Do you think you're talking to a child, or what? 
 Why can't you be candid for once in a way, drop 
 this hypocritical pretence, and say frankly that you 
 want the girl yourself ? "
 
 300 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "But you don't think I'm such a confounded hypo- 
 crite as all that ? " There was more of surprise than 
 indignation in the Major's tone. 
 
 "I have my own opinion," replied the other sullenly. 
 "Anyway, I object to being questioned and badgered 
 by you, and you can make what you like of it." 
 
 "Do you know, Henry," Sarning replied quietly, 
 "there was a time in my life when I wouldn't have 
 permitted any man to talk to me like this. But that's 
 all gone. I have tried, and I think I have almost real- 
 ized, the futility of both tears and anger. I am sorry 
 you should think me a hypocrite. Somehow I never 
 thought of that. Yet, of course, why shouldn't I be ? 
 I suppose we all have an axe to grind, though we all 
 do it in a different way. Yet here and there may be 
 some whose axe is a very inconsiderable trifle. Natur- 
 ally the man with the very big axe wouldn't think so. 
 Yet one's own eyes may magnify excessively." 
 
 "Perhaps. I don't want to quarrel with you, Sarn- 
 ing." (For the first time he recollected how swiftly 
 Bob Langford had slunk away.) "At the same time I 
 cannot permit you to dictate my course of action. It's 
 taking a little too much on yourself, and there is 
 nothing I know of you that can justify such a pose. 
 Even if your motives were as angelic as you would 
 have me believe, you cannot expect others to accept 
 them on their face value. The mere knowledge of 
 what she was would damn her in the eyes of the 
 world. If you are anxious that she should retain her 
 spotless reputation you should get rid of her at once." 
 
 Sarning passed over the sneer. 
 
 "There's something in that," he said. "Of course, 
 we never intended that she should stay with us always. 
 As you know, it was just to give her a chance, set
 
 BEYOND THE REACH OF PHILOSOPHY 301 
 
 her on her feet, let her have time to breathe. Yes, 
 there's something in that. If you who know us so well 
 can talk like this, what would a stranger think ? " 
 
 Henry smiled in a superior way. 
 
 "My dear fellow, life is not led in books or on the 
 stage. The imitations of art make all things unreal. 
 There is nothing like human nature but human 
 nature. The greater part of us is unfit for publica- 
 tion. When we have not imagination enough to 
 deceive ourselves we must get some juggler to deceive 
 us. If he fails he gets the bird." 
 
 "Ah ! " said the Major. 
 
 "Personally I lay no claim to moral superiority, but 
 I don't think myself any the worse on that account. 
 My maxim through life has been to make the best and 
 the most of things. I've only one life, you know, 
 and I mean to live it in my own way. I regret that it 
 should collide with your lofty ideals, but I am afraid 
 you must make the best of it." 
 
 With that he turned abruptly, almost insolently, on 
 his heels and left the Major to ruminate upon the 
 situation. 
 
 There are times when speculative thought is the 
 mother of much enjoyment, but this was not one of 
 them. As a matter of fact Charles Sarning was much 
 perturbed and greatly in need of sympathetic counsel. 
 Aloes was out, his return problematical. But return 
 he would some time during the night, and until then 
 he must possess his soul in patience. Betty, for obvi- 
 ous reasons, he did not wish to see. Yet his mind 
 drew pitiful pictures of her in her loneliness, and he 
 began seriously to wonder if all their efforts were to 
 merge in nothingness. 
 
 He burnt much tobacco as he walked up and down
 
 302 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 the room. He heard Henry descend the stairs 
 whistling a light air. He was sorry the poor old chap 
 whistled in that airy fashion, for it proved conclusively 
 the agitated state of his mind. All inferior intellects, 
 when agitated, affected that air of bravado. Servants 
 under notice always laugh idiotically or sing loudly. 
 He regretted that Henry would insist on dumping 
 himself in that category. Once Betty looked in, but 
 finding him there in a cloud of smoke she beat an 
 immediate retreat. Charles Sarning felt that there was 
 something in the air besides smoke, something that 
 presaged trouble. 
 
 When Aloes came in he laid the whole case before 
 him. The philosopher's brow darkened: he punctu- 
 ated the narrative with little snaps of indignation. 
 
 "What a dog it is," he said, referring to the Actor 
 Man. "I should like to kick him. Why didn't you 
 tell me of this before?" 
 
 "What purpose would it serve? Besides, I did not 
 mean him to succeed." 
 
 "Poor little wretch," murmured Aloes. "Hang it 
 all, Charles, I wonder if she thinks we're all tarred 
 with the same brush, if our motives are equally rotten ? 
 Tell you what it is, I was never so sorry for any one 
 in my life as I am for her. And to think that bounder 
 wants to kick her back in the gutter ! By Jove, she's 
 tried devilish hard, too. There's something in her, 
 old man." 
 
 "I am sure of it. Yet the fact remains that this 
 sort of thing can't go on. Henry has shown us that." 
 
 "Why shouldn't it?" 
 
 "Just because she's what she is. You see, he 
 thought her fair game. There are lots like him." 
 
 "The puppy," growled Aloes. 
 
 "That doesn't alter the fact."
 
 "Well, we've taken on the job, Charles, and we're 
 going to see it through. She's not going back if I 
 can help it. Faults she has, but 1 think she has virtues 
 too. Anyway, she's running straight now. The girl's 
 got something in her. Oh, I've watched her, thought 
 about her, and I like her straight way of looking at 
 things, of doing things. No brand plucked from the 
 burning this, or any of that sort of rubbish ; but a 
 woman who sees and knows, and has learned to value 
 her womanhood. But God bless us, Charles, there are 
 two sides to most things, and many sides to a woman, 
 and what do we really know of them after all, except 
 that they are human like ourselves? Of course one 
 thinks, one cannot help it in the circumstances. Some- 
 times it seemed to me that her eyes smouldered 
 strangely, that her manner betrayed an effort at 
 restraint. Yet that's natural enough too. What if she 
 should cut the Gordian knot and bolt ? " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "By Jove," muttered Aloes, "how should we get on 
 without her ! Wouldn't the place seem dull ? " 
 
 The thought both oppressed and obsessed him. He 
 remembered something Charles Sarning had once said 
 about the charm and influence of a woman in the 
 house. Once he, too, had had such dreams : again 
 memory began to stir feebly, old dreams took a new 
 shape. Aloes found himself inconceivably agitated. 
 He laughed at himself and possibilities, and then his 
 grim old face grew grimmer. He was not sure that 
 the jest merited such acclamation : he was not even 
 sure that it was a jest at all. 
 
 That night there was a strange restraint as the three 
 of them ate their modest meal. Sarning tried his 
 hardest to make conversation, Betty her hardest to 
 listen. Aloes made no pretence either of talking or of
 
 304 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 listening; but whenever Betty ventured to glance his 
 way she caught his eyes fixed earnestly upon her. So 
 far neither he nor Charles had ventured to broach the 
 subject which occupied the first place in their minds : 
 yet he knew that broach it he must. Plainly he per- 
 ceived that things were tending to a crisis, that the 
 unusual was a-brewing. It might take the form of 
 black clouds and bursting thunder, or an unforeseen 
 dazzle of sunshine. But knowing fate he was willing 
 to lay odds on the thun'der. 
 
 After the meal, and while she was out of the room 
 for a moment, he said to Charles 
 
 "I must have it out with her, old boy. Perhaps it 
 may not be so embarrassing if " 
 
 "Certainly," said Charles. 
 
 The Major rose when she entered, stretched himself, 
 and said he was going out to get some tobacco. Aloes 
 nodded and gave him the money to fetch a couple of 
 ounces of a particular rough-cut. The two men looked 
 admiringly at each other. It was an ingenious, a 
 magnificent ruse. 
 
 Aloes watched her clear the table, and, perhaps not 
 for the first time, thought they were imposing some 
 drudgery on the girl. She, knowing that he was watch- 
 ing her, grew more than embarrassed, guessing well 
 that the analytical mind was hard at work behind that 
 glance. Still she went through her task mechanic- 
 ally, gathered up the things, folded the cloth and 
 put it away, and was making for the door when he 
 called her. 
 
 "I should like to have a little quiet talk with you, 
 Betty." 
 
 "Yes," she said, standing with one hand resting 
 against the table.
 
 BEYOND THE REACH OF PHILOSOPHY 305 
 
 " Won't you sit down ? " 
 
 She did so instantly, turning her great eyes inquir- 
 ingly into his. Aloes laid aside his pipe and plunged 
 at once into business. 
 
 "Charles has been telling me of certain happenings. 
 I hope you don't confound either him or me with 
 Navarre ? " 
 
 "Oh no," she answered quickly. 
 
 "At any rate we've tried to do our best, and to 
 observe both the letter and the spirit of our compact. 
 Only you can say if we have succeeded." She nodded. 
 "Very well, then, so far so good. But at the present 
 moment that which is to come seems the greater 
 problem, and awakes many doubts, many fears. My 
 dear child, you understand thoroughly that it is neither 
 our wish nor our intention that you should be sub- 
 jected to to insult of any kind; but the question for 
 us to answer is, How are we to avoid it ? " 
 
 "You cannot avoid it," she answered in a low tone. 
 " I feared it from the first, but I hoped. To myself I 
 never seemed quite so bad as I evidently do to others. 
 I've tried, as you know; but what's the good of try- 
 ing? I didn't quite realize how deep the stain was. I 
 don't believe people want you to be good. I suppose 
 it sounds ridiculous, but I did want to be good, Mr. 
 Aloes, and I've tried so hard." 
 
 "I know, I know. You don't suppose I've watched 
 you all this time without learning something ? " 
 
 "Of course," she said, "I must go away. I under- 
 stand that quite well. I ought to have gone before 
 I have known it for a long time now only I I didn't 
 want to. You don't know how happy I have been 
 here with you and the Major. You knew I was trying 
 and you encouraged me. Even Mr. Navarre was 
 u
 
 306 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 different in the beginning. But, of course, it was all 
 impossible. Yet I would like to know that I have not 
 disappointed you." 
 
 "You have not disappointed us." 
 
 " I know I am only a common little thing, but that 
 was hardly my fault. I never had much of a chance. 
 You don't know the kind of life my class of girl leads. 
 Perhaps it's as well you don't. I know people don't 
 look on that as an excuse. All their excuses are 
 reserved for those who have all the chances of life. 
 Not that it matters much : there are so many like me. 
 Sometimes I wonder if you and the Major did me a 
 good turn. I would have sunk, of course : probably 
 taken to drink in real earnest. But then I should never 
 have known what I had missed. Between you you 
 have taught me to think ! I don't know that I ought 
 to thank you for it." 
 
 "Perhaps you will." 
 
 "Yes, I think I must. At all events it has made the 
 old life impossible, and given me a strength I never 
 had before. Do you remember how you and the 
 Major argued one night about knowledge being 
 power? Perhaps you didn't think I was taking it in, 
 but I was, as best I could. A lot of it puzzled me, but 
 I caught the drift of it all right. I too have learnt 
 something, and I am not so afraid of the darkness as 
 I was." 
 
 "Brave little woman," said Aloes admiringly. 
 
 "Not very brave, I think; yet brave enough to go 
 now that I know I ought to." 
 
 "There is still one other alternative," he said. She 
 looked at him inquiringly. "To stay," he added 
 earnestly. 
 
 "To stay ? " she repeated.
 
 BEYOND THE REACH OF PHILOSOPHY 307 
 
 "As my wife, Betty." 
 
 Her eyes opened in amazement. 
 
 "Do you mean that you would marry me?" 
 
 "That is my meaning." 
 
 " Knowing what I am what I have been ? " 
 
 "I will forget what you have been, and remember 
 only what you are." 
 
 She was silent for a time, but he read the wonder 
 and the pride in her eyes. Stirred by a deep agitation 
 her breast rose and fell rapidly. 
 
 " Is this pity, Mr. Aloes ? " 
 
 "Something deeper than pity," he replied. 
 
 "I am proud that you should think so well of me," 
 she faltered. 
 
 "Yes," said Aloes, watching her with expectant 
 eyes. 
 
 "But you don't know all." 
 
 "You mean you wouldn't like to?" 
 
 He looked at her like a great shy boy to whom has 
 been administered an embarrassing rebuff. Curious, 
 too, how he trembled. 
 
 " Do you think me very ungrateful ? " 
 
 "Why, no," he said. "I had no right to ask you, 
 to add to your embarrassment. I should have been 
 very happy." 
 
 "No, you wouldn't. You would have been very 
 sorry. You couldn't be proud of me : nobody could. 
 I wonder if you know how proud I am of you ? " 
 
 "As for that," he said, "it's all pure selfishness on 
 my part." 
 
 She held out her hand, looking him frankly in the 
 eyes. 
 
 "You are not angry with me? You would like me 
 to be honest ? " 
 u 2
 
 308 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Angry, no. But I know what I'm losing." 
 
 "But not what you are gaining." 
 
 "No," he answered, with a short laugh: "but it 
 doesn't seem to be much." 
 
 "One' day you may think so." 
 
 When she had gone Aloes sat for some little time, 
 his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand, and 
 thought hard. Then he rose in an aimless sort of 
 fashion and strolled over to the window, through 
 which he glared at nothingness; though out of that 
 nothingness there presently arose a pale, tired face 
 crowned with a halo of red-gold hair. He started, and 
 some shadow of the old cynic smile flitted over his 
 face. Strange that he should suddenly associate Betty 
 with halos ! And he never even saw the joke. 
 
 Slowly he returned to the table and relit his pipe. 
 That great chapter on Woman, in his Philosophy of 
 a Savage, would have to be recast. What did he 
 know of women ? What did any one know ? What 
 did they know of themselves ? What did we know of 
 anything that was not brought into the rigid line of 
 the exact sciences? Oh world of little reason, oh vast 
 stupidity of man ! Aloes thought he had learnt more 
 in the last twenty minutes of his life than in the whole 
 of the previous twenty years. 
 
 He seized his hat and went out. Certainly the room 
 had grown uncomfortably close. He had never felt 
 such a keen longing for fresh air, for the wild breezes 
 of the sea. As there was no sea he would seek the 
 Embankment, the best substitute to hand. Were there 
 a breeze in all London he would find it there. Even 
 the great rough barges looked spectral by moonlight, 
 and the little waves of silver lapped them as gently and 
 caressingly as though they were the ships of faery.
 
 BEYOND THE REACH OF PHILOSOPHY 309 
 
 Near the top of the road he met Charles coming 
 from Lupus Street, and they came to a standstill 
 beneath the glowing arc of an electric lamp. 
 
 "I am just going for a turn on the Embankment," 
 he explained. 
 
 "Where is she?" 
 
 "Gone to her room, I suppose. My dear fellow, 
 why is the world peopled with fools, and why am I 
 one of the biggest ? I suppose the Almighty ordained 
 it so, though why I should be especially honoured, 
 when there are so many equally as worthy, exceedeth 
 my comprehension. Yes, Aloes, you're a blinking 
 old owl, and it's time you were sent to the taxi- 
 dermist." 
 
 "What's happened?" 
 
 " Betty Pendleton prefers the name of Betty Pendle- 
 ton to that of Betty Hallows. In other and simpler 
 words, my boy, I have just received what our esteemed 
 friend Henry would call ' the bird.' I have been 
 graciously but ignominiously pushed, and now I am 
 going on to the Embankment to sink my sorrows in 
 good Thames mud." 
 
 "You don't mean " 
 
 "Exactly what I have said. She loves another, at 
 any rate she doesn't love me. Maybe it's Bob Lang- 
 ford, maybe Henry of Navarre, maybe Bill Nuttall. 
 At all events it's not yours truly." 
 
 He passed on without another word, and Charles 
 Sarning, a strange stirring in his breast, went slowly 
 onward. Could it possibly be true ? Aloes had asked 
 her to be his wife, and she had refused him ! It's 
 true he spoke more or less jestingly; yet his listener 
 had no doubt that there was the bitterness of truth 
 in it.
 
 810 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 Slowly, and very thoughtfully Aloes strolled one 
 way : perhaps more slowly, and certainly as thought- 
 fully, Charles Sarning strolled in the opposite direc- 
 tion. Occasionally the former stopped to laugh, as 
 though at some inward jest; yet he knew that it was 
 laughter of a most dubious kind. Sarning, on the 
 contrary, was never farther from laughter. Suddenly 
 life, always so serious, had grown doubly so. If he 
 was surprised at the story told to him by Aloes, he 
 was amazed to think of her rejection of such an 
 advantageous offer. It was odd, but he had never 
 thought of Alfred in that way. Dear old fellow. 
 What on earth could have come to him ! 
 
 When he entered the sitting-room he found her 
 resting over against the window, her arms on the sill, 
 her face in her arms. He could see her quite dis- 
 tinctly, though there was no light in the room except 
 that thrown by the tall street lamp. She could not 
 have heard him, for she did not stir until he was 
 half-way across the room. Then she looked round and 
 sprang to her feet. 
 
 "No, no," he said quickly; "please sit down." 
 
 "Don't you want the light? " 
 
 "Not unless you wish it." 
 
 Without a word she resumed her seat and sat star- 
 ing out into the night. The Major sat down, stood 
 up, and then sat down again. Next he lit a pipe and 
 puffed solemnly for several minutes. 
 
 "Betty." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I have just seen Alfred. He told me. You have 
 refused to be his wife ? " 
 
 "I could not marry him," she cried. 
 
 "Why not?"
 
 BEYOND THE REACH OF PHILOSOPHY 311 
 
 "Can you ask?" 
 
 "He's a good chap," blundered the dear fellow; 
 "steady as a rock, and makes good money." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know." 
 
 If he heard the impatient tapping of her foot on the 
 bare board he did not seem to notice it. 
 
 " It would have made me very happy," he said. 
 
 "You don't care!" 
 
 "On the contrary, it is because I care so much that 
 I wish to see you happy." 
 
 "You needn't trouble about me." 
 
 " But I thought you liked old Alfred ? " 
 
 "Yes, I like him." 
 
 "He's a good fellow, is Alfred steady as a rock, 
 and all that sort of thing. A girl could trust herself 
 with him." 
 
 "I know." 
 
 "And he's awfully fond of you, Betty." 
 
 "You needn't trouble about me. I can take care 
 of myself." 
 
 n So all women think when they're young. But 
 it's a hard life for a lonely woman." 
 
 "I suppose you think I ought to go down on my 
 knees and thank God that any man should condescend 
 to look at me seriously ? " 
 
 "Not at all, not at all. You misapprehend me. But 
 Alfred's a good fellow, and I know he could make 
 you happy." 
 
 "I don't want that kind of happiness." 
 
 " But have you seriously thought it out ? " he in- 
 sisted. "Think what it means." 
 
 " Why do you plead for him ? " 
 
 "Oh," he mumbled a little lamely, "he's such a 
 good fellow, you know. One of the best chaps living."
 
 312 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "You think I have no right to wish for more than 
 that; you think I should jump at the first man who is 
 willing to make an honest woman of me ? " 
 
 "No, no! " he protested. But she had risen now, 
 and continued excitedly 
 
 "No doubt you're right. Not many men would do 
 it I mean men like Mr. Aloes. Do you suppose I 
 felt no pride in knowing that he respected me? I 
 could have cried with the joy of it I did cry. But 
 I couldn't take him because he pitied me: I couldn't 
 take any man that wasn't dearer to me than that. In 
 your heart you will call me a little fool : perhaps I 
 am perhaps I have always been. Somehow I've 
 changed since I've been with you, and I don't know- 
 yet whether it's for the better. No, no," she added 
 quickly, as if in protest against herself, "it must be 
 for the better. But you have given me new ideas, and 
 I haven't got used to them yet." 
 
 "You must know," he said, "that I am only think- 
 ing of you. If I could see you happily married to a 
 good fellow like Alfred, I might even think I had 
 accomplished something with my worthless life." 
 
 "Why think so much of others?" she asked in a 
 low voice. 
 
 " My only chance of happiness must be in the happi- 
 ness of others." 
 
 "And suppose I of course it sounds absurd sup- 
 pose I don't care for Mr. Aloes in the way a wife 
 should ? " 
 
 "Good Lord," he blurted out, "you don't mean to 
 tell me that you have still a hankering for that " 
 
 "No. Bob Langford, and everything connected 
 with him, is swept away. I I didn't think you could 
 believe that of me now."
 
 BEYOND THE REACH OF PHILOSOPHY 313 
 
 She walked slowly past him to the door. 
 
 "I don't believe it," he said. 
 
 But without answering she left the room, softly 
 closing the door behind her. He called to her, but she 
 returned no answer. Then swiftly he crossed the 
 room, opened the door and listened. 
 
 She was slowly dragging her way up-stairs.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE DRIFTING OF THE DERELICT 
 
 THE Major slept rather restlessly that night. On 
 the following morning, as he tossed in his uncom- 
 fortable bed, he heard Big Ben boom five o'clock 
 through the distance. He was still tossing more or 
 less restlessly when it boomed six. Then he slept 
 again, a heavy, dreamful, unrefreshing sleep. At 
 half-past eight he awoke. At nine o'clock he rolled 
 out of bed with the intention of paying Aloes a visit. 
 Out on the landing he called good-morning to Betty ; 
 but her door was shut and he received no reply. 
 She's down-stairs getting the breakfast, he thought. 
 Having slept on her trouble she would be better. 
 Things always brightened up after a good night's 
 rest. 
 
 Aloes was already preparing to shave when his 
 visitor entered, a process he continued with the 
 greatest deliberation. He laid aside the brush and 
 grinned through a mask of lather. 
 
 "Well, my boy," he said, "I regret to inform you 
 that I have slept soundly in spite of my blasted hopes. 
 She loves me not, old fellow : she loves another. And 
 I have slept on the knowledge. Woe is me." 
 
 "I spoke to her about it," began the Major. 
 
 "I hope not!" 
 
 3H
 
 THE DRIFTING OF THE DERELICT 315 
 
 "I did, though." 
 
 "You really mustn't do that sort of thing, Charles. 
 I understand, of course. It was awfully good of you. 
 But all that's wiped out. We mustn't embarrass 
 her. Certainly I was a bit of a fool ; but it isn't often 
 I give way to sentiment." 
 
 "I didn't know you were fond of her, Alfred." 
 
 "My dear fellow, I wasn't quite sure of it myself 
 until I thought she was going. But that's all done 
 with. Let's say no more about it." 
 
 He devoted himself to shaving with much energy, 
 stopping now and again for a moment to descant with 
 more or less humour on the mutability of life. But 
 the listener thought there was a little seriousness 
 behind the jest. Aloes' mouth twisted oddly as he 
 laughed. Yet it was obvious that the thought of her 
 still reigned paramount. Deliberately he wiped his 
 face, and as deliberately grinned again. 
 
 "She loves me not," he murmured. "I wonder 
 who's the lucky dog? Heigho, I think I'll sell my 
 farm and go to sea." 
 
 Charles was about to reply in his most impressive 
 manner, not altogether approving of Alfred's jocu- 
 larity, when he was interrupted by a knock at the 
 door, and Ma Nuttall pushed a portion of her fair 
 and ample anatomy through the aperture. 
 
 "Thought you was all dead," she panted. 
 
 "No, Ma, alive and kicking," cried the philosopher 
 cheerily. 
 
 "Never see such a set of seven sleepers," she 
 grumbled. " Where's the gal ? " 
 
 "Isn't she down?" asked the Major. 
 
 "Down, no ! Nobody's down but Nuttall an' me- 
 an' Mr. Navarre. 'E went oph this morning."
 
 316 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Oph ! " echoed the philosopher. 
 
 "'Ad to catch a early trine. Didn't 'e tell you ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Didn't say good-bye?" 
 
 "Not a word." 
 
 "Well, there you are. 'E's gorne. Paid up, too 
 like a gentleman." This with a meaning glance at 
 Major Sarning. 
 
 "Well, good luck to him," said Aloes. 
 
 "Yas," said Mrs. Nuttall in her own peculiar 
 manner. "But what I wanter know is this, ain't you 
 going to 'ave no breakfast this morning ? " 
 
 "I'd better go and rouse Betty," said the Major. 
 
 "Bringin' me up all these stairs," protested the 
 good woman. 
 
 "Never mind, Ma," said Aloes. "If you only knew 
 the pleasure your presence gives us you wouldn't 
 grudge the exertion." 
 
 "I don't think," said the lady. 
 
 Meanwhile the Major's long legs were springing 
 up the stairs three at a time, a strange tremor round 
 his heart urging him to this unwonted activity. 
 
 Arrived on the landing he stood for a moment or 
 so gravely contemplating the closed door. Then with 
 some hesitation he advanced towards it, knocked, 
 waited, and then knocked again, this time in more 
 peremptory fashion. Receiving no reply he turned 
 the handle, calling "Betty" in a low, anxious tone. 
 Then he pushed the door wide and looked in. 
 
 The room was empty ! 
 
 Bewildered, he looked round, his eyes eventually 
 lighting on a scrap of paper which was stuck in the 
 side of her mirror. This he seized, recognizing at 
 once her round, childish hand.
 
 THE DRIFTING OF THE DERELICT 317 
 
 "Thank you all. There is no other way out. 
 Good-bye. BETTY." 
 
 Nothing more : just those few simple words. 
 Again and again he read them. Then he stared at 
 the bed, which he saw had not been slept in, the 
 shabby little washstand with its covering of spotless 
 linen, the daintily curtained window which looked out 
 on the grimy roofs and chimney-pots, the little 
 bracket with its half-dozen well-thumbed books which 
 Aloes had given her. Then, like one in a dream, 
 he swung slowly round, reverently closed the door, 
 and with a heavy step descended the stairs. 
 
 "Well?" said Aloes. 
 
 "She's gone." 
 
 "Gone!" 
 
 He handed him the note. 
 
 " Good Lord ! " gasped Aloes. 
 
 The two men looked at each other. The silence was 
 broken by the mocking voice of Mrs. Nuttall. 
 
 " Yas, she's gorne with 'im. Arranged it 'andy too. 
 Wanted to catch a early trine yas." 
 
 "Impossible! " protested the Major. 
 
 "What is 'er goin' with 'im ? Lumme, didn't 
 you know they was carrying on ? " 
 
 "No," said the Major. 
 
 "Well, me an' Nuttall did. As 'e said to me, ' 'Ow 
 could a gal like that go strite? She's a-foolin' the 
 gents up-stairs, an' it's time they knew it.' I knew 
 it 'ud come orlright, but it wasn't no use torkin' to 
 such a set of 'ot-'eaded gentlemen. An' there's no 
 doubt that Mr. Navarre, for all 'is troubles an' mis- 
 fortunes, was that fascinatin' with women when 'e 
 liked. Of course, she was flattered that a grite
 
 318 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 Lending actor like 'im should condescend to look at 
 'er dirt out of the streets ! Wish I'd never let 'er 
 enter my 'ouse. Red-'eaded little slut ! I always 
 thought she was up to a bit o' 'anky. You couldn't 
 make nothink of 'er but what she was. Reg'lar give 
 'erself frills too, at larst : brushin' back 'er 'air an' 
 wearin' low 'eels. But it ain't low 'eels that make 
 a virtuous woman." 
 
 "No," assented Aloes. "Your perspicacity is only 
 exceeded by your clarity and your elegance of diction. 
 Do you think you could get us a little breakfast ? " 
 
 "Nice thing she's let me in for," protested the good 
 soul. 
 
 "Oh, I'll carry it up," said the Major. 
 
 "Least you could do. But who's goin' to carry it 
 up in the footure ? " 
 
 "We may not trouble you in the future," said 
 Aloes. 
 
 She looked hard at him and her face lengthened. 
 
 "It's always a pleasure to wite on you, Mr. 'Allows, 
 though I confess the stairs do come 'ard at times, 
 especially when you've 'ad a fambly. Still, it seems 
 to me, an' after what you've done for 'er, that she 
 'aven't shown much gratitoode. But what could you 
 expect ? " 
 
 "Life is full of disappointments," said Aloes, hold- 
 ing the door open for her. "And by the way, I 
 should like the coffee hot for a change." 
 
 "I always made it red-'ot, but she would 'ang about 
 so. I suppose you know you took 'er room by the 
 week, which isn't up till Sat'day." 
 
 "You shall have a full week's notice." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. 'Allows. It is such a pleasure to 
 deal with a reel gentleman."
 
 THE DRIFTING OF THE DERELICT 319 
 
 They heard her thump, thump her way down the 
 stairs, muttering darkly to herself on the hardship of 
 life and the ingratitude of mortals. Then they looked 
 into each other's eyes and found the same question 
 there. 
 
 "It is impossible," asserted the Major. 
 
 "That she should bolt?" 
 
 "That she should bolt with him." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "She couldn't stand the fellow." 
 
 "Yet the fact remains that she has gone, and by a 
 strange coincidence they both go at the same time. 
 It looks ominous, Major dear." 
 
 "But you don't believe it?" 
 
 " Yesterday I would not have believed it : to-day I 
 should find little difficulty in believing anything. 
 The fact remains that she's gone, vamosed, cleared 
 out, bolted, scooted, mizzled, cut her stick, done a 
 guy, taken a midnight flit." 
 
 "I am greatly disappointed in her," said the Major. 
 
 "And in a moment of mental aberration I would 
 have married her ! Zeus, what an escape ! Pity, un- 
 known to gods, the curse of mortals ! And she bolts 
 with that confounded mummer, while I, Alfred Hal- 
 lows, otherwise known as the Bitter One, the one and 
 only living social philosopher of any eminence, am 
 left in the lurch. Major dear, we are a pair of 
 blighted nincompoops who cannot see beyond the 
 false brilliance which illumines the end of our noses. 
 A mummer and such a mummer ! " 
 
 "But do you really think that she has gone with 
 him?" 
 
 "Suggest some other alternative. He promised 
 much, you know, and a man of promises can go a
 
 320 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 long way with women. Heaven knows I don't want 
 to think badly of her. I liked her; I thought there 
 were veins of gold deep down in her. At first, as 
 you may recollect, I laughed at the proposition. 
 From what one knows of the world it was absurd, 
 and could only end disastrously. Then I felt sure 
 that I misjudged her and human nature. But you 
 see, the world moves on fairly well ordered lines after 
 all, especially towards ill. Explain these things if 
 you can, Major dear. They are beyond me." 
 
 But the Major could find no explanation, though it 
 went against his nature to believe the worst. She 
 had come, brightened their lives for a moment or so, 
 and now she was gone. That one day she would go 
 was what he had schooled himself to expect ; but that 
 she should go in this manner hurt him not a little. 
 Alfred had no doubt that she had gone with Navarre : 
 Mrs. Nuttall was sure of it. Neither seemed to think 
 any other solution probable. What else could she 
 have done ? Gone back to Langford ? That sugges- 
 tion he would not entertain. Even in a woman there 
 was no depth of treachery equal to that. Woman ! 
 Like Alfred, and countless others, he began to ask 
 himself what, after all, did he know about her. It 
 was a fatal question, and begat much cruel specu- 
 lation. 
 
 A week passed, and they heard nothing of Betty. 
 He roved the streets in search of her: he penetrated 
 the labyrinth of Nine Elms. On one occasion he 
 encountered Mr. Langford near the goods station 
 of the South- Western Railway. He dared not put 
 a question to the fellow, yet he was not sorry to see 
 him slouch up. 
 
 "Arternoon, guv'nor," grinned Bob. "'Tisn't
 
 THE DRIFTING OF THE DERELICT 321 
 
 orfen we 'ave the pleasure of seein' you this side of 
 the water. 'Ow's the little 'un ? " 
 
 The Major started, but succeeded in answering with 
 a semblance of calmness, "Very well, thank you." 
 
 Mr. Langford never ceased grinning. 
 
 "Think you've got 'er tight, eh? But I tell yer 
 she's a blarsted little spitfire, an' '11 give yer the 
 chuck jes' as soon as she's ready." 
 
 "Ah ! " murmured the Major, as he passed on. 
 
 "Ain't got the price of a pint on yer, I s'pose?" 
 The other did not answer. "No, I didn't think so," 
 sneered Mr. Langford. "Don't look as though you'd 
 been spendin' much lately on eatin' an' drinkin'. 
 Shall I lend yer a bob ? An' I say, the next time you 
 come over 'ere let it be at night." 
 
 But the Major was hurrying on, his heart relieved 
 of a great fear. She had not returned to Langford ! 
 With Navarre she might be, but with Langford, no. 
 She had said that she could not again descend to 
 that, and she had not. There was a certain amount 
 of honesty in her after all. 
 
 The days were wretched, and the nights still worse. 
 Not until she was gone did the two men realize how 
 greatly they missed her, though they spoke little of 
 their loss. The Major, usually so communicative, 
 grew taciturn : Aloes rarely came home till late. 
 Pipe after pipe Charles Sarning smoked in the semi- 
 gloom of the deserted sitting-room. Then he would 
 put on his hat and go out and tramp the streets and 
 squares made memorable by his walks with her. A 
 woman's form in the distance would send his heart 
 thumping a beat or two quicker. With him always 
 was the hope that she would be waiting for him on 
 the stairs ; that on entering the sitting-room he would 
 x
 
 322 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 see her standing over there by the window. Some- 
 times, very softly, he would call "Betty " through the 
 darkness. 
 
 Her room remained as she had left it. He would 
 allow nothing to be touched, for one night she might 
 crawl back. He could not think that she had gone 
 gone utterly. All her things were there just as 
 she had left them. He noticed that not one of their 
 insignificant presents had been taken. With nothing 
 she had come, with nothing she went. So he told 
 himself. He did not guess that the sorrow she had 
 taken away was infinitely greater than that which she 
 had brought. 
 
 Aloes came in late one night and found him sitting 
 in the darkness. 
 
 "Come, come," he said, "this won't do. Light up. 
 I have news." 
 
 "Of her?" 
 
 "Of her," said Aloes, lighting the gas. Then he 
 held out a letter. "This reached the office to-night. 
 Read it." 
 
 "You read it, old fellow." 
 
 "It's from Navarre." 
 
 "Oh!" There was disappointment in the ex- 
 clamation. 
 
 "Mv DEAR ALFRED," Aloes read aloud, "We are 
 having a glorious tour. The second lead was taken 
 ill at Newcastle, and I was called upon to play the 
 part at a moment's notice. It was a great ordeal, but 
 I am sure you will be glad to know that I rose like a 
 bird to the occasion. Made a tremendous success, 
 dear boy ; showed them how it should be done, caught 
 the audience in a grip of iron and swayed it at my
 
 THE DRIFTING OF THE DERELICT 323 
 
 will. Truly the triumphs of the artist are compar- 
 able to no other. Such divine, intoxicating moments 
 of success come only to those who wield the sacred 
 baton of art. I am to continue playing the part at 
 an increased salary ! 
 
 "But enough of myself. I wish to apologize for 
 my somewhat hasty flight from town. It was ill- 
 mannered of me not to say good-bye to you and 
 Charles. Forgive me, there's a pair of dear fellows. 
 But the truth is I was greatly harassed by the thought 
 and presence of that hideous nightmare who calls her- 
 self my wife, and I was afraid she might ' intercept 
 me in my expedition.' Of course I know you both 
 blame me, but you don't know all the ins and outs 
 of that story, which one day, if you are in a sympa- 
 thetic mood, I may tell you. 
 
 "Also my kindest regards to Betty. Frankly, I was 
 mistaken in her, and I hope I'm man enough to say 
 so. Ask her to forgive me. Tell her I'm not so bad 
 as I seem. She's a real good 'un I give you my 
 word. At the same time I think that in her the world 
 has lost a great artist. 
 
 "Always yours sincerely, 
 
 "HENRY NAVARRE." 
 
 As Aloes finished reading he looked at Sarning and 
 smiled. 
 
 "You see, she hasn't gone with him after all." 
 
 "You don't think he's trifling with us?" asked the 
 Major. 
 
 "Bless your suspicious soul, no. There's sincerity 
 in every underscored word. Henry's hot on italics." 
 
 Sarning took up the letter, which Aloes had 
 dropped upon the table, and read it carefully. Now 
 x 2
 
 324 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 and again a mist blurred his eyes and made him 
 pause, but when he finally laid it down his face was 
 beaming. 
 
 "You're right," he said; "she's not with him. I 
 wonder where she is ? " 
 
 Of a sudden there came to him a vivid vision of the 
 dark river with the flickering lights of Nine Elms in 
 the distance. 
 
 "Ah," said Aloes, "I wish we knew. The place is 
 not much without her, is it? Rather strange if this 
 should be the end," he added tentatively. 
 
 "What end, Alfred?" 
 
 "Of the confederacy. Betty gone, Henry gone. I 
 may have to go too. There's some talk of giving me 
 an editorship in a good Tory community in the 
 Midlands." 
 
 "Tory?" echoed the Major. 
 
 "Yes," grinned Aloes. "Rum thing, fate." 
 
 "Very. I congratulate you, old fellow." 
 
 "Thanks. But I was wondering ' 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "If I could get you on the staff." 
 
 "Thanks, old boy." 
 
 But the Major turned his face from the light. 
 Suddenly his eyes seemed to grow uncommonly weak.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE DERELICT ENTERS PORT 
 
 IN due course Aloes departed for his Tory con- 
 stituency in the Midlands, leaving Major Sarning 
 behind. Though his prospects were exceedingly 
 shadowy, nothing would have induced him to quit 
 London just then. Perhaps Aloes knew the reason ; 
 at any rate he respected it enough not to pry. 
 
 "You know where to find me, Charles," he said at 
 parting: "so mind, no false modesty. I'll never for- 
 give you if you don't write." 
 
 "I'll write, old fellow." 
 
 But life was a thing of horror now. Ma Nuttall 
 seemed to think he was responsible for the loss of 
 her income, and made existence so intolerable that 
 eventually even he had to leave. Between Lupus 
 Street and the river he found a cheap room, from 
 which he sallied forth as of old, though hardly in the 
 same jaunty manner. Once a gleam of sunshine came 
 in the form of a letter from Ireland in connection with 
 that ridiculous estate of his; but the weeks passed by 
 and the vague hopes failed entirely to materialize. 
 
 One day, passing a certain fashionable church in 
 Eaton Square, he saw a crowd gathered along the 
 pavement, and having nothing better to do he stood 
 with the patient herd. Presently the bride came forth 
 leaning on the arm of a little middle-aged, florid- 
 
 3 2 5
 
 326 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 looking fellow, who walked with a pride peculiar to 
 little florid-looking fellows. The bride was pale, but 
 stately and very beautiful. The Major trembled 
 violently as he looked at her, and slunk farther back 
 among the crowd. She did not see him. Not that it 
 mattered much. It was but another of the dead 
 romances of the world. Yet there was a deep pain 
 in his breast as he wandered on, the joy-bells clang- 
 ing in his ears. 
 Marion ! 
 
 The night was dark and cold, for winter had come 
 again, and Betty, as she hurried along Victoria 
 Street, now and again bent her head to the boisterous 
 gusts which swept cruelly along that funnel-like 
 thoroughfare. As of old, she was poorly dressed, thin 
 and pale, and the wind struck her face and chest with 
 sickening thuds. Yet it was not without hope that 
 she staggered on, the faint hope born of a long 
 despair. After her day's work she had taken many 
 a jaunt in this fashion ; always setting out with hope, 
 always crawling home weary, dejected. 
 
 The last fierce gust having passed and left her pant- 
 ing, she saw, a little ahead of her, the figure of a 
 man clinging to some area railings. Deeming that 
 he was drunk, she was about to pass him by when 
 some familiar outline of figure caught her eye, and 
 she paused. Then she drew near uttering a cry half 
 of terror and half of joy, which went wailing down 
 the wind like the sob of a ghost. 
 
 "Major!" 
 
 The figure on the railings slowly lifted its head, 
 but it did not look round. 
 
 "Major, Major ! Don't you know me Betty ! "
 
 THE DERELICT ENTERS PORT 327 
 
 " Betty 1 Why, so it is. Child, what are you 
 doing out a night like this ! Not fit for a dog. 
 Ought to be home in bed." 
 
 She caught his hand. It was cold as ice. 
 
 "It's me Betty. For God's sake, wake up ! " 
 
 "Why," he answered in a dreamy voice, "I was 
 just going off. You've been out a long time, Betty; 
 
 you've " A great shudder swept him from head 
 
 to foot, and his teeth began to chatter. "How cold 
 it is," he muttered. 
 
 She caught him by the arm and led him onward, 
 knowing that movement was necessary to life. Down 
 a side street they went, and in the doorway of the 
 great cathedral found shelter from the bitter wind. 
 Little by little the blood began to circulate, and with 
 the returning life his brain grew clear. 
 
 "Why did you not come back ? " he asked at length. 
 
 "How could I?" 
 
 "We missed you so much." 
 
 "Are you still with Mrs. Nuttall?" 
 
 "No, that's all gone. Alfred is in the country, 
 Henry I don't know where." 
 
 "Then you are Hying alone?" 
 
 "Living!" 
 
 "We call it living," she said. "Why were you 
 standing there? Why didn't you go home?" 
 
 "Home. Yes. Do you remember, Betty, when we 
 first met ? " 
 
 "Yes," she whispered. Would she ever forget? 
 
 "You were going home then. If you hadn't waked 
 me I should have gone home too." 
 
 " Has it come to that ? " she asked excitedly. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then I'm glad."
 
 328 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "Glad!" 
 
 "Because you belong to me now." 
 
 She took him by the hand and led him as a mother 
 would lead a child. He did not ask where she was 
 taking him ; he did not seem to know or care. When 
 he stumbled her strong young arms held him up : 
 when it seemed as though he would collapse utterly 
 she twined his long arm round her neck and staggered 
 onward. Those sinewy arms that had brought Bob 
 Langford to the earth were now as flaccid as a 
 child's. 
 
 It was a cruel, pitiful journey, but it came to an 
 end at last in a shabby Westminster slum. Fortun- 
 ately no policeman was encountered, or it might have 
 gone hard with her. 
 
 When the morning broke Charles Sarning was in a 
 raging fever. 
 
 For six drear weeks she nursed him. All day long 
 she had to work in her factory over in the Grosvenor 
 Road, but she came to him in the luncheon interval, 
 hurrying forth and back, eating her bit of bread and 
 cheese on the way. Sometimes the lodger in the next 
 room looked in ; but she, too, had her daily toil, and 
 for hour after hour he lay counting the figures on 
 the dingy wall-paper until they assumed grotesque 
 and maddening proportions. Then gradually he be- 
 gan to mend, as people will who have no hope in 
 life. But strength came back slowly, for he did not 
 help his convalescence. Why should he? 
 
 In those long days the girl grew very dear to him. 
 He saw with shame and horror the circles deepen 
 under her eyes : the shoulders were beginning to stoop 
 as no young shoulders should. Yet how he waited 
 for her coming, and with what joy he heard her quick
 
 THE DERELICT ENTERS PORT 329 
 
 step on the stairs ! Always she brought him some 
 little cheap delicacy; and when he was able to sit up 
 she produced a pipe and half-an-ounce of tobacco. 
 He smoked with the ardour of one famished for 
 tobacco. Also he wept like a child. 
 
 One evening she entered, an important-looking 
 letter in her hand. Twice a week, on her way home, 
 she called at his old lodgings for that letter which 
 never seemed to come. He had told her it might 
 mean much to him. What would it mean to her? 
 Nevertheless, she flew to him with light feet and a 
 heavy heart, and with anxious eyes watched him as 
 he fumbled with the envelope. 
 
 Slowly he perused its contents, laid the sheet on 
 his knees, then took it up again and carefully re-read 
 it. When he again looked at her his eyes were swim- 
 ming, and a faint smile broke over his wan face. 
 
 "Come here, Betty," he said, "here, close. Sit 
 there." He pointed to the edge of the bed. "Now 
 listen. This letter contains great news for me." 
 
 "I'm so glad," she whispered, a painful little catch 
 in her voice. 
 
 "You must understand," he continued, "that once I 
 was a very stupid person, and altogether played the 
 fool with my prospects. In those days I had a fairly 
 decent sort of estate in Ireland, which my folly forced 
 me to mortgage. The result was that I had to clear 
 out while other people stepped in. I learn now that 
 my liabilities have at last been wiped off, and that the 
 property is really and truly mine once more." 
 
 "What does that mean?" she asked in a low, 
 frightened tone. 
 
 "That I can hold up my head again, and repay 
 you for all that you've done for me."
 
 330 A SAINT IN MUFTI 
 
 "But I've done nothing," she whispered; "I've 
 done nothing." 
 
 "Yet I seem to think so." 
 
 Gently he took her hand and stroked it, the little 
 hand that had grown so hard and rough with work. 
 A great fear seized her. 
 
 "You are rich?" she asked, turning cold and faint 
 at the direful probability. 
 
 "No, not rich; but we shan't hear the wolf howling 
 outside the door, or fear the bitter, long winters. I 
 can do something for you now." 
 
 "But I don't want you to do anything for me." 
 
 He raised the little toil-worn fingers and pressed 
 them one after the other to his lips. 
 
 "Listen to me, Betty. I couldn't speak before, be- 
 cause my circumstances were so uncertain. That's 
 why I wanted you to take Alfred, that dear good 
 fellow. Now you see what I am, a bit of a wreck, 
 and something more than a fool. Will you take me 
 with all my imperfections? Will you be my wife, 
 little girl ? " 
 
 "Your wife," she gasped. "How could I?" 
 
 "By saying yes," he answered, wilfully misread- 
 ing her. 
 
 "But you forget what I have been." 
 
 "It is because I remember." 
 
 In the following August Mr. Alfred Hallows spent 
 his holidays with Major and Mrs. Sarning on their 
 estate in County Clare. 
 
 "By Jove, old fellow," said the Bitter One, as he 
 sipped a glass of excellent port with his host after 
 dinner, "we may mock at the ways of providence, 
 jest at fate and make sport with chance, but there's
 
 THE DERELICT ENTERS PORT 331 
 
 something at the bottom of all this human hope and 
 fear and endeavour. I wonder what it is ? " 
 
 "Love," said the Major. 
 
 "Love," echoed Aloes : "I wonder? Do you know, 
 Charles, I have a chapter on Love in The Philosophy 
 of a Savage. I think I shall have to recast it." 
 
 THE END
 
 RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED, 
 
 BREAD STREET HILL, B.C., AMD 
 
 BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.
 
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 North, South, and over the Sea 
 
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 Poverty Bay, Illus. (615). 
 
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 (770). 
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 World Peril of 1910 (731). 
 
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 Eternal Dawn (741). 
 
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 King Fritz's A.D.C. (409). 
 The Deeper Stain. 
 
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 Love and the Soul Hunters 
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 Meadowsweet and Rue (561). 
 
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 The Intrusions ot Peggy (457). 
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 Hope (Graham). 
 
 The Gage of Red and White 
 
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 Winifred (867). 
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 Howard (Keble). 
 
 Bachelor Girls (736). 
 
 Hueffer (Ford Madox). 
 
 The Benefactor (636). 
 
 The Fifth Queen Crowned(793> 
 
 The Half-Moon (853). 
 
 Hume (Fergus). 
 
 The Wooden Hand (587) 
 
 The Scarlet Bat (613.1". 
 
 T'.ie Fatal Song (631). 
 
 Jonah's Luck (697). 
 
 Purple Fern (739). 
 
 Flies in the Web (773). 
 
 Mystery of a Motor Cab (808). 
 
 Trie Devil's Ace (815). 
 
 The Mikado Jewel. ' 
 
 The Top Dog. 
 
 A. Lonely Subaltern. 
 
 Hyne (C. J. Cutcliffe). 
 Adventures of Captain JOnle. 
 
 Illustrated (244). 
 Further Adventures of Captain 
 
 Kettle (288). 
 
 The Little Red Captain (459). 
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 Iota. 
 
 He for God Only (484). 
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 Old as the World (873). 
 
 Jacobs (W. W.). 
 
 At Sunwich Port (434). 
 
 The Lady of the Barge (463). 
 
 Jacobs (W. W.). 
 Odd Craft (517). 
 Dialstone Lane (578). 
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 Jane (Fred. T.). 
 Ever Mohun (389). 
 
 Jokai (Maurus). 
 
 The Baron's Sons (370). 
 
 Joubert (Carl). 
 The White Hand (65 1). 
 The Tyranny of Faith (694). 
 
 Kaye-Smith (Sheila). 
 
 Tramping Methodist (814). 
 Starbrace (864). 
 
 ! Keating (Joseph). 
 The Great Appeal. 
 
 Kennard (Mrs. E.). 
 A Son of the Fleet (497). 
 
 Kennedy (Bart). 
 Vicissitudes of Flynn (850). 
 
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 The Red Peril (777). 
 
 Kernahan (Mrs. Coulson). 
 A Beautiful Savage (556). 
 The Whisperer (611). 
 A Village Mystery (632). 
 Gate of Sinners (795). 
 Quixote of Magdalen. 
 
 Kildare (Owen). 
 
 Up from the Slums (572). 
 
 Koebel (W. H.). 
 
 The Anchorage (775). 
 
 The Singular Republic (810). 
 
 Lang (L. Lockhart). 
 
 The Imbeciles (834). 
 
 | Laver (Frank). 
 
 An Australian Cricketer on 
 Tour (637). Cloth only. 
 
 I Le Blond (Mrs ). 
 
 Story of an Alpine Winter (767). 
 
 Le Breton (John). 
 
 Mis'ess Joy (340).
 
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 Fletcher (J. S.). 
 Bonds of Steel (429). 
 Mr. Poskitt (735). 
 The Harvest Moon (Sn). 
 The Mantle of Ishniael (856). 
 Marchester Royal (869). 
 The Pinfold. 
 
 Flowerdew (Herbert). 
 
 Maynard's Wives (706). 
 
 Fowler (Edith H.). 
 
 For Richer, For Poorer (635). 
 
 Francis (M. E.). 
 
 North, South, and over the Sea 
 
 (447). 
 Fuller-Maitland (EHa). 
 
 Priors Roothing (509). 
 
 Furniss (Harry). 
 Poverty Bay, Illus. (615). 
 
 Gaboriau (Emile). 
 
 Monsieur Lecoq (395). 
 The Widow Lerouge (404). 
 
 Gallon (Tom). 
 The Golden Thread (589). 
 Jimmy Quixote (659). 
 Fortunes a-begging (693). 
 Christmas at Poverty Castle. 
 
 (770). 
 The Lackey and the Lady (8 19). 
 
 Gerard (Morice). 
 A Gentleman of London (794). 
 
 Gissing (Algernon). 
 
 The Unlit Lamp (871). 
 
 Goron (Monsieur). 
 
 World of Crime (703). 
 
 Graham (Winifred). 
 
 Mayfair (563). [(665). 
 
 Emma Hamilton's Miniature 
 
 Grand (Madame Sarah). 
 
 Emotional Moments (791). 
 
 dribble (Francis). 
 
 Pillar of Cloud (680). 
 
 Griffin (E. Aceituna). 
 
 Mrs. Vanneck (765). 
 
 Griffith (George). 
 
 A Woman Against the World 
 (5H). 
 
 The Stolen Submarine (559). 
 
 Men who have Matla the Em- 
 pire (584). 
 
 An Island Love Story (592). 
 
 His Better Half (622). 
 
 His Beautiful Client (650). 
 
 Great Weather Syndicate (667). 
 
 A Conquest of Fortune (696). 
 
 World Peril of 1910 (731). 
 
 John Brown, Buccaneer (781). 
 
 The Sacred Skull (797). 
 
 Griffiths (Major Arthur). 
 
 The Wrong Road (502). 
 The Silver Spoon (511). 
 Winnifred's Way (596). 
 Agony Terrace (714). 
 Thrice Captive (786). 
 
 Griffith (Noweli). 
 
 Dorrien Carfax (879). 
 
 Gunter (A. C.). 
 
 Dnacon and Actress (425). 
 TheManBehind the Door (570). 
 
 Haggard (Rider). 
 
 Queen Sheba's Ring. 
 
 Hake (A. Egmont) and Mur- 
 ray (D. C.) 
 
 Eternal Dawn (741). 
 
 Hardy (Thomas). 
 
 Tess of the D'Urbervilles (3). 
 
 Harradan (Beatrice'. 
 
 Ships that Pass in the Night (i). 
 Harte (Bret). 
 Trent's Trust (491). 
 
 Hawthorne (Julian). 
 
 A Fool of Nature (121). 
 
 Hird (Frank). 
 
 King Fritz's A.D.C. (409). 
 The Deeper Stain. 
 
 Hobbes (John Oliver). 
 
 Love and the Soul Hunters 
 The Vineyard (544). [(456). 
 The Flute of Pan (601).
 
 COL OMA L L IB HA A' ! '. 
 
 Hocking (Silas K.). 
 Meadowsweet and Rue (561). 
 
 Hope (Anthony). 
 
 The Intrusions of Peggy (457)- 
 *The Fight for Lord Arpenhoe. 
 
 Hope (Graham). 
 
 The Cage of Red and White 
 
 (545). 
 Amalia (708). 
 
 Hornitnan (Roy). 
 
 Winifred (867). 
 Hornung (E. W.). 
 *Mr. Justice Raffles (880) 
 
 Howard (Keble). 
 Bachelor Girls (736). 
 
 Hueffer (Ford Madox). 
 
 The Benefactor (636). 
 
 The Fifth Queen Crowned(793) 
 
 The Half-Moon (853). 
 
 Hume (Fergus). 
 
 The Wooden Hand (587) 
 
 The Scarlet Bat (613). 
 
 The Fatal Song (631). 
 
 Jonah's Luck (697). 
 
 Purple Fern (739). 
 
 Flies in the Web (773). 
 
 Mystery of a Motor Cab (808). 
 
 The Devil's Ace (8 1 5). 
 
 The Mikado Jewel. 
 
 The Top Dog. 
 
 A Lonely Subaltern. 
 
 Hyne (C. J. Cutcliffe). 
 
 Adventures of Captain K>*tle. 
 Illustrated (244). 
 
 Further Adventures of Captain 
 Kettle (288). 
 
 The Little Red Captain (459). 
 
 Captain Kettle, K.C.B. (481). 
 Iota. 
 
 H e for God Only (484). 
 
 The Magic of May (800). 
 
 Innes (J. W. Brodie). 
 
 Old as the World (873). 
 
 Jacobs (W. W.). 
 
 At Sunwich Port (434). 
 
 The Lady of the Barge (463). 
 
 Jacobs (W. W.). 
 Odd Craft (517). 
 Dialstone Lane (578). 
 Short Cruises (718;. 
 
 Jane (Fred. T.). 
 Ever Mohun (389). 
 
 Jokai (Maurus). 
 The Baron's Sons (370). 
 
 Joubert (Carl). 
 The White Hand (651). 
 The Tyranny of Faith (694). 
 
 Kaye-Smith (Sheila). 
 
 Tramping Methodist (814). 
 Starbrace (864). 
 Keating (Joseph). 
 The Great Appeal. 
 
 Kennard (Mrs. E.). 
 A Son of the Fleet (497). 
 
 Kennedy (Bart). 
 I Vicissitudes of Flynn (850). 
 
 ! Kernahan (Coulson). 
 The Red Peril (777). 
 
 ' Kernahan (Mrs. Coulson}. 
 A Beautiful Savage (556). 
 The Whisperer (611). 
 A Village Mystery (632). 
 Gate of Sinners (795). 
 Quixote of Magdalen. 
 
 Kildare (Owen). 
 
 Up from the Slums (572). 
 
 Koebel (W. H.). 
 
 The Anchorage (775). 
 
 The Singular Republic (810). 
 
 Lang (L. Lockhart). 
 
 The Imbeciles (834). 
 
 Laver (Frank). 
 An Australian Cricketer on 
 Tour (637). Cloth only. 
 
 Le Blond (Mrs ). 
 
 Story of an Alpine Winter (767). 
 
 Le Breton (John). 
 
 Mis'ess Joy (340).
 
 Le Breton (J. &T.). 
 
 The Chronicles of Choisy (488). 
 The Modern Christian (540). 
 
 Lee (Albert). 
 
 The Gentleman Pensioner (311). 
 
 Le Queux (W.). 
 
 Scribes and Pharisees (215). 
 Wiles of the Wicked (307). 
 As We Forgive Them (548). 
 Sign of the Stranger (568). 
 Sins of the City (595). 
 Whatsoevera Man Soweth(654). 
 
 Loring (Andrew). 
 
 Forefront of the Battle (802). 
 
 Machray (Robert) 
 
 Mystery of the Middle Temple 
 
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 Mackie (Pauline Bradford). 
 
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 Oxendale (629). 
 
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 Illustrious O'Hagan (688). 
 Needles and Pins (727). 
 Seraphica (760). 
 The Gorgeous Borgia (831). 
 The God of Love. 
 
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 The Individualist (272). 
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 Mann (Mary E.). 
 Fortune's Cap (628). 
 
 Marriott (Charles). 
 
 Women and the West (698). 
 The Wondrous Wife (756). 
 The Kiss of Helen (787). 
 When a Woman Woos (854). 
 
 Marsh (Richard). 
 
 In Full Cry (279). 
 The Goddess (334). 
 Romance of a Maid of Honour 
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 Martin (D'Arcy). 
 Gran (614). 
 
 Mason (A. E. W.). 
 The Four Feathers (462). 
 The Truants (569). 
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 Pigskin and Petticoat (766). 
 
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 Home of Sweet Content (664). 
 In the Flower of her Youth (679) 
 Chateau of Mystery (744). 
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 Brother or Husband (872). 
 
 Meadows (Alice Maud). 
 
 Blind Man's Buff (747). 
 
 Merrlck (Leonard). 
 
 When Love flies out o' the 
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 Merriman (Henry Seton). 
 With Edged Tools (i 5). 
 The Grey Lady. Illus. (190). 
 
 Millington (Powell). 
 
 To Lhassa at Last (604). 
 
 Mltford (Bertram). 
 
 Dorrien of Cranston (477). 
 A Frontier Mystery (603). 
 
 Moore (F. Frankfort). 
 
 The Other World (585). 
 The Food of Love. 
 
 Moore (George). 
 
 The Untilled Field (487). 
 Confessions of a Young Man 
 
 Morrison (Arthur). 
 
 Green Eye of Goona (577). 
 
 Muddock (J. E. Preston-). 
 
 Liz (528). 
 
 The Sunless City (607). 
 
 Nisbet (Hume). 
 
 The Revenge of Valerie (298). 
 A Losing Game (407).
 
 COLONIAL LIBRARY. 
 
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 Howto Choose a Husband (4.65). 
 
 Oliphant (Philip Laurance). 
 
 Julian Reval (753). 
 
 Onions (Oliver). 
 
 Pedlar's Pack (789). 
 
 Owen (Charles). 
 
 Philip Loveluck (865). 
 
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 Love in the Wilderness (749). 
 Edge o' Beyond (806). 
 Paddy-The-Next- Best-Thing 
 
 (835) 
 
 Pain (Barry) and Blyth(James). 
 Shadow of the Unseen (745). 
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 Panton (J. E.) 
 
 Cannibal Crusader (840). 
 
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 Pemberton (Max). 
 The House under the Sea (453). 
 Man who Drove the Car. 
 
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 A Breaker of Laws (347). 
 
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 Phillpotts (Eden). 
 
 The Whirlwind (701). 
 
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 Somes Loves and a Life (579)' 
 
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 Illusion (289). 
 
 Price (Eleanor C.)- 
 
 Angelot (458). 
 
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 Chronicles of Don O. (573)' 
 
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 The Spin of the Coin (830). 
 
 'Q.'(Qunier-Couch, A. T.). 
 Hetty Wesley (513). 
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 Sir John Constantine (690). 
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 Corporal Sam, &c. 
 
 Rail! (Constantine). 
 
 Wisdom of the Serpent (730). 
 Story of Falconer Thring (742). 
 Julian Steele (799). 
 
 Ranger-Gull (C.). 
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 Reynolds (Mrs. Fred). 
 Hazel of Hazeldean (685.) 
 House of Rest (709). 
 Love's Magic (826). 
 
 Riddell (Mrs. J. H.). 
 Footfall of Fate (332). 
 
 Rita.' 
 
 A Man of No Importance (743). 
 
 Roberts (Morley). 
 
 A Tramp's Note Book (571). 
 The Idlers (640). 
 Midsummer Madness (874). 
 
 Russell (W. Clark). 
 
 A Voyage at Anchor (303). 
 
 Saunders (Marshall). 
 
 Deficient Saints (505). 
 
 Savage (R. H.). 
 
 Golden Rapids of High Life 
 
 (504). 
 Last Traitorof Long Island( 576) 
 
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 Shlel (M. P.). 
 This Knot of Life. 
 
 Simpson (Violet A.). 
 
 The Bonnet Conspirators (49 2 )-
 
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 Sladen (Douglas). 
 
 Playing the Game (590). 
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 Smith (H.)- 
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 Man-made Law (803). 
 
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 Ludus Amoris (435). 
 
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