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 A HIND LET LOOSE
 
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 HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 BY 
 
 G. E. MONTAGUE 
 
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 NAPHTAL1 IS A HIND LET LOOSE ; HE GIVETH GOODLY WORDS." 
 
 Gknksis xlix. 21.
 
 
 First Published in igio
 
 TO 
 
 C. P. s. 
 
 THROUGH WHOM 
 AN ENGLISH PAPER IS CLEAR OF THESE STAINS
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 " They grew in beauty, side by side ; 
 They filled one home with glee." 
 
 F. Hemans 
 
 T ALLAND, like some others, is the second 
 * * city of the Empire. Halland admits it ; 
 you don't, she says, get over figures ; and yet she 
 cannot help knowing how London might have 
 flagged, long ago, without all the new Halland 
 blood in its veins — let in pretty often by poor, soft 
 lads who never could have kept their feet in the 
 rush of life and work in the stern North — just 
 men enough to work the milder scrummage of the 
 capital. 
 
 An immemorial self-respect has handed down 
 to the Halland of to-day the pick of a dozen 
 warming aphorisms. The best known, perhaps, 
 is : " England is Halland and water ; Halland is 
 England neat." " What Halland thinks to-day, 
 England will think to-morrow," dates, it is thought,
 
 2 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 from the first Halland man. " Take away Halland 
 and twelve miles round, and where are you ? " is 
 dearer to the suburbs. And the great love she 
 bears herself is no mere doting on her beauty ; it 
 kisses each mole. Well enough in your garden 
 South, where work is play, to fuss about clean 
 rivers. Leal Halland men, homing from Florence, 
 San Francisco, or Constantinople, will pause en- 
 tranced, on leaving the station, to lean over the 
 Prince Consort Bridge — already an antique, only 
 a smoke-cured one it is true, but senior in looks to 
 Trajan's Arch at Ancona — and come into their 
 own again. Below, on the torpid stream, refuse 
 oils draw sheeny curvilinear grainings, parodies of 
 a rainbow's palette, on a chocolate ground ; late 
 at night the quiet lifts into relief the still, small, 
 multitudinous plop of bubbles rising and breaking, 
 a million infinitesimal belches. Day or night, as 
 at the passing of Cleopatra's barge, 
 
 " A faint, invisible perfume hits the sense 
 Of the adjacent wharves," 
 
 wharves partly, factories mostly, springing their 
 sixty feet of sheer out of the viscous fluid, their 
 walls bored here and there with pipes of all calibres, 
 some spitting fitful white rods of steam ; from others,
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 3 
 
 their nozzles flush with the bricks, all the waste 
 filths of industry, bilges and rinsings and dirt- 
 gorged greases, suppurate slowly and cake on the 
 walls, coat upon coat. You might say, not having 
 love, " A Venice in Hell" ; but what are Thames and 
 Tiber, Abana and Pharpar, to this Jordan, for this 
 Israel? What are outlandish fads of manner, either? 
 Nasty fops' tricks, taints that the best of us may 
 pick up more or less in the alien's trains and tables 
 d'hote. But the leprous scales fall from the exiles, 
 back in the old place. Largior hos csther campos. 
 Here they feel clean and blunt again ; "jannock" 
 they call it ; the dialect word enshrines Halland's 
 faith that to be a diamond you must be rough. 
 
 No two stouter pillars of this faith, no more 
 affluent springs of corresponding works than the 
 two Halland daily papers ; the Warder, Con- 
 servative ; the Stalwart, Liberal ; each owned 
 and ruled and, as any Halland man could tell 
 you, written, for these eighty years past, by its 
 own dynasty of editors, born and trained for 
 their high duties, each of them 
 
 ..." the destined heir, 
 From his soft cradle, of his father's chair." 
 
 For eighty years a reigning Brumby and a reign-
 
 4 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 ing Pinn had stoked the city's passion for calling 
 spades, at the very least, spades. Unthinking 
 people call animosities sterile. This one, of 
 Brumby and Pinn, made Halland's world go 
 round as surely as, by flying at each other's heads, 
 your positive and negative electric currents turn 
 the wheels of Halland's tram-cars. 
 
 Not that the Warder and Stalwart could 
 never agree. There is a time, both knew, to 
 embrace, as well as a time, a larger time, to 
 refrain from embracing. Let a stranger give the 
 name of goose to the least among the local swans 
 and he will see. That critical time when the 
 statue of Binney, the Halland philanthropist, had 
 to be ordered, when the claims of Tom Burnup, a 
 local man, a man genuinely self-taught, who had 
 learnt his art, absolutely without exception, in our 
 city, and no mere sculptor either but a man of 
 sterling worth, jannock, if ever man was, and a 
 man with many mouths at home to feed — when 
 Tom's claim, or rather his right, to the job was 
 questioned by a set of faddists, friends of every 
 city, every country but their own, who would, if 
 they could, have given the work to one Alfred 
 Gilbert (some pushing London man), or even to a 
 foreigner, called, I think, Rodin — then, I say,
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 5 
 
 begging your pardon for thus gasping, but such 
 disloyal conduct makes one breathless, just to write 
 of it — then, I say, the two gallant enemies, terrible as 
 the sea but also as sane as it, dropped their points, 
 stood by their menaced fellow - citizen until his 
 peril was past, and enriched their city for all time 
 with the most faithful marble image, I do believe, 
 in all Western Europe, of a snow man touched 
 with a spiritual fineness by the first hour of a thaw. 
 Both dynasties, indeed, were friends to the arts. 
 When old George Brumby's death "severed," as 
 even the Stalwart admitted, "one of the few re- 
 maining links with the past," he left by his will 
 to the Halland College of Music, £4000, a good 
 half of the gleanings of the thrift that for so many 
 years had had the city's music noticed in the 
 Warder by any young reporter not yet up, for 
 want of shorthand, to serious things. It was 
 letters, rather, that Pinn cherished in his bosom — 
 Elijah Pinn, now on the throne. When he 
 ascended, twenty-six years ago, he found that, 
 absorbed in the strenuous parts of life, the 
 Stalwart had left unobserved the issue of the 
 works of Ruskin, Carlyle, Tennyson, Browning 
 and George Eliot, in which, as he shrewdly said 
 in the idiom of his calling, considerable and in-
 
 6 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 creasing sections of the public were unquestionably 
 interested. Acting on this piece of insight he 
 beat up some twenty to thirty widows and 
 daughters of Nonconformist ministers of the best 
 type, widows and virgins whose cruses and lamps 
 were not too full of oil for his purpose ; and to 
 these he gave out for review the new novels, 
 histories, epics, philosophies, systems of medicine, 
 astronomy, jurisprudence, tactics and the rest. 
 True, the ladies were not all pundits ; but Pinn, 
 for whom no trouble was too great, taught them 
 critical method, arming their minds with whole 
 panoplies of sound aphorisms ; they must be 
 prompt ; they must be crisp ; must put some 
 ginger into it ; must cut the cackle and come to 
 the horses, the horses being some good, round, 
 eulogistic sentence, readily detachable, for each 
 book's publisher to quote in his advertisements. 
 
 It was a bold step. The Education Act was 
 but young. Only a few diners-out had a living 
 hold in those days on the truth that you will talk 
 your best about a book if you know it wholly 
 through the reviews and do not clog your mind or 
 take the sweep and fire out of your conclusions by 
 reading the mere text. But Pinn saw the world 
 steadily and saw it whole. He knew the risk ; he
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 7 
 
 knew what ownership of the Stalwart was — a 
 trust for the nation ; he knew how wicked, not 
 merely foolish, it would be to stake the solvency 
 of a national institution on the success of an 
 appeal to which the public might, for what he 
 knew, be not yet ripe to answer. Revolving these 
 things, he asked his Muses to send back all books 
 when reviewed, and sold them, the round with the 
 small, at half a crown apiece. Then, fixing the 
 payment for each review at eighteenpence, he felt 
 that the future could be faced. 
 
 The bold course proved the wise one. Pinn, 
 kind but firm, schooled his corps of intellectuals 
 till they would fire off considered judgments almost 
 at sight of a binding ; none of them but could 
 review a Chinese grammar, the day it came out, 
 and that without giving positive scandal to readers 
 who knew Chinese. The system was thrice 
 blessed. A book was scarcely out before its 
 ravished publisher could cite in his advertisements 
 throughout the island the Stalwart's avowal that 
 once it had taken the volume up it could not lay 
 it down. That did the paper good — trumpeted 
 its name for nothing and broadened its special 
 fame as an organ of culture. Pinn, like a frugal 
 Maecenas, cleared, in some twenty-five years, a
 
 8 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 couple of thousand pounds by way of the differ- 
 ential shillings alone ; and the ladies who sized 
 up all things written must have earned at least 
 enough to find themselves in gas and spectacles. 
 For a thank-offering Pinn spent half of the nett 
 gain on a Free Library, set in the heart of a 
 working-class district, a greater boon than he 
 knew to many who, but for it, might have walked 
 far, or waited long, to learn the starting prices. 
 
 To this stroke "young George Brumby" — a 
 youth of fifty summers ; the " young " is only to 
 tell Amurath from Amurath — answered with an 
 act of homage to the art of Rembrandt. A 
 Halland architect, John Biggs, had in his wild 
 youth designed the present Warder office, out- 
 wardly a scowling pile ; within, a powerfully 
 imagined system of draughts and obscurities, as 
 full of cross-lights and tangled glooms as 
 Hamlet itself. Its chief glory was the count- 
 ing-house ; no earlier master of Gothic had 
 brought home so well to a body of clerks the 
 savour of life in a well-ventilated mine. In the 
 leisure secured to Biggs by the publicity of this 
 feat — it fronted the Town Hall ; the world saw 
 the clerks come blinking out into the sunlight 
 for dinner — he set out, armed solely with the
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 9 
 
 temperament that had undone him in one art, to 
 teach its business to another, though, as one who 
 in stone had created, he scorned to take pay as 
 a critic of other men's unmonumental essays in 
 paint. Until then the Warder had eschewed the 
 valuation of products of art, as a whimsical, 
 womanish job. But the time, Brumby felt, might 
 have come ; the man certainly had ; and for many 
 years the gifted volunteer made a brilliant figure 
 at the Press Day luncheons where the curators of 
 municipal galleries guide the docile minds of 
 reporters up the crooked paths of critical Tight- 
 ness ; this, they will say, was the picture that had 
 to be railed off at the Academy, to keep the crowd 
 away ; that was the one the King had seen at 
 Buckingham Palace ; that there important canvas 
 was sold already for £900. Biggs, on fire with 
 luncheon and memories of his mighty past, had 
 been known to argue with a curator, and not come 
 off second-best either ; awed reporters said so. 
 
 Even a Biggs can but ripen towards the grave. 
 He grew old ; his thoughts took on sombre hues ; 
 there always used, he sternly said at one Press 
 view of the Halland Autumn Exhibition, to be a 
 drop of good dry sherry at these times ; such decad- 
 ence in the arts told on him ; he fell back, dejected,
 
 io A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 upon a comparative study of the Wigwam Club's 
 dry sherry and its other vintages ; and while Biggs 
 waned, some strange new hand in the Warder 
 waxed, some one who, when he wrote on pictures, 
 had the tone of the true Olympian, the light 
 stoop, the serenity, the air of not being too hard 
 on poor devils drawing on the pavement ; no one 
 but Brumby himself, it was thought, could have 
 done it ; and then, just as rumour was saying that, 
 it became known that Brumby's own nephew, 
 Dick Sanctuary, heir-presumptive to the paper, 
 had come to join its staff, and had a hobby of this 
 kind of thing. He had, in fact, just over-run 
 Europe, rhapsodising about pictures, statues, even 
 trinkets, that an English gentleman might, 
 perhaps, have seen with less excitement, his uncle 
 felt ; Dick might take no harm, but rather good, 
 by working off this aesthetic craze in the paper 
 before responsibility fell upon him ; at bottom 
 the boy was sound ; he would come down to 
 earth in good time, and put away childish 
 things. 
 
 Childish things, that is, compared with what 
 Brumby, like Pinn, would call " the serious work 
 of the paper " and, again, " the really testing part 
 of journalism " ; I mean the fighting down of evil
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE n 
 
 in our public life. Thither, as a Christian publicist, 
 each brought not peace but a sword, or, where a 
 sword would not have been in place, a jet of vitriol, 
 a squirt of weed-killer ; for it was careless of me to 
 call them duellists ; rather, each was to the other 
 as the snake to the mongoose, or the house rat 
 to the terrier. Not that either mentioned the 
 other. Eatanswill is extinct. Each was true on 
 the whole, to the early British journal's stately 
 faith that none but it was in print, at any rate, 
 anywhere near ; nor would either glance, even 
 obliquely, at the other, in the singular number, as 
 " a provincial print " — in less proud cities a paper 
 is felt by an enemy to be a " provincial print " as 
 African is termed by African a "dam' black 
 nigger " — much less as " the fish-wrapper," a title, 
 exchanged, as I hear, at need, by two standard- 
 bearers of our culture in the press of the Far East ; 
 at most the Stalwart would sniff at some fib set 
 about by " minor organs of the Ministry," or the 
 Warder distinguish from the errors of " Liberals 
 of character" the more starless moral night of 
 " certain Radicals of the baser sort." 
 
 Yet, when these salutes were shot, unaddressed, 
 into the ambient ether, Halland knew well enough 
 at whose receivers they were aimed ; here was no
 
 12 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 stage-fight of parties, but a tussle of two strong 
 men ; it was Brumby's own thick neck that men 
 saw clothed with thunder in the smashing leaders 
 of the Warder — smashing, but not to Pinn ; canst 
 thou make Pinn afraid as a grasshopper ? Halland 
 would have known his answering snort among a 
 thousand. When the Stalwart had "seen its 
 dead " and was out to kill in its turn, the glory of 
 its nostrils was terrible to a degree that threw new 
 light on Scripture. 
 
 Nor was each of them only a party's oriflamme. 
 To the thinker, the man who had heard what a 
 friend had read in a book about Darwin, these 
 sinewy brains, locked in an endless strife, figured 
 the true life of the world, its multitudinous, 
 perfecting quarrels. "I've no politics, bless you," 
 some sportsman would say, " but I like a good old 
 scrap and none of your gloves on," and with lips 
 moving, he would stumble through column-long 
 leaders, chuckling where Brumby got one for his 
 nob, or Bellona's other bridegroom took it on 
 the boko. " I don't say but they're tryers," the 
 very cynic would allow. It was all so English, 
 super-English ; only Halland wits, Halland guts, 
 as these plain speakers gleefully said, could have 
 done it. London might melt manhood into
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 13 
 
 courtesies ; not these two Halland men. 
 "Dragons of the prime," we felt with awe and 
 
 pride, 
 
 . . . "that tore each other in the slime 
 Were mellow music, matched with them."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 " Blessed influence of one true, loving human soul on another ! 
 Not calculable by algebra, not deducible by logic, but mysterious, 
 effectual, mighty." George E-liot 
 
 O RUMBY'S editorial room was fit to visit the 
 *-" dreams of a dramatist. Used as a scene, 
 whole ranges of characters could have popped in 
 and out of it all night, and nobody run into any- 
 one else till the good of the play required. For 
 its walls were mainly door ; for dooring's sake 
 Wellington, Canning, Dizzy himself (after Millais) 
 were skied ; doors to right of him, doors to left 
 of him, at one hand a row of bell-buttons, close 
 as on a page's bosom, at the other a serried squad 
 of mouths of speaking-tubes, Brumby sat like a 
 brain centre in a nervous system — the simile is 
 his ; at least, he borrowed it first — feeling at all 
 the threads and living along each line. 
 
 All the evening all the forces of the press, now 
 centripetal and now centrifugal, drew in upon this 
 core to take direction, or were sped outwards 
 from it, aimed and animated. To and from the 
 
 central, octagonal, sky-lighted room were sucked 
 
 14
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 15 
 
 in or radiated forth, each by his proper door, along 
 the spoke-like corridors, the office messengers with 
 "copy," proofs, letters and telegrams; the fore- 
 man, shirt-sleeved, from the composing-room, ask- 
 ing the size of to-morrow's paper ; the publisher, 
 not yet perspiring, to know how much per cent. 
 Lord Albry's speech, the thing of to-night, should 
 add on to the parcels for the outer towns ; sub- 
 editors doubting how much to make of some not 
 very well-born rumour of a row inside the Cabinet, 
 or if it might be libel, though it were true, to 
 say a borough treasurer had turned invisible 
 since Thursday ; the porter from the lift bringing 
 in callers' cards — the Manager, Theatre Royal — 
 would not detain the editor one instant ; writer 
 of a letter — turnstiles needed on trams — would 
 the editor see him, simply for five minutes — 
 reform vital ; small deputation from Hospital 
 Friday Committee — had not liked to give him 
 the trouble beforehand to make an appointment ; 
 bankrupt of some hours' standing — just two words 
 about to-morrow's report — could nothing be done 
 about the judge's conduct — method of choosing 
 official receivers, too, thoroughly faulty. Thence 
 would the war correspondent post, at Brumby's 
 bidding, over land and ocean without rest, bent
 
 16 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 to sweeten the sacred home-life of the Warder's 
 readers with all the heroic pleasures of war, un- 
 alloyed by groin wounds or enteric. To this cell 
 at the heart of the hive the reporter, home from 
 some delicate quest, would come to lay up in 
 the charge of the queen-bee that most perfect- 
 flavoured news which you could never put in the 
 paper. 
 
 Now and then you might think the place a 
 ship, and her engines starting ; all of it fell a- 
 quivering with a pulse that throbbed up from the 
 embowelled cellarage where, forty feet below the 
 street, the head machine-man gave a few trial 
 turns to one of the piled stacks of wheels and 
 cylinders, orchestras of massed inventions, that 
 print and fold, paste and cut, and count out into 
 dozens the best and worst of papers, with an 
 equal hand, like the sun that shines on the just 
 and the unjust. For the moment that sound 
 killed others. It ceased, and then Brumby, as 
 this or that door opened, of all that panelled his 
 room, caught many little busy noises, a whole 
 multitudinous hum, as of June air at noon ; the 
 full-volumed whisper from where twelve printers' 
 readers, each in his hutch, read proofs swiftly and 
 low to his mate ; the slither of hurrying feet along
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 17 
 
 oil-clothed corridors ; near and far off, the click 
 of many typewriters. All the office used type- 
 writers ; he wished it ; not alone does the master's 
 eye groom the horse ; his ear helps. 
 
 It helped now. One of the doors — it led to a 
 small room at his back, was half-open ; through 
 it, as Brumby sat taking his pleasure in that 
 throb and blent hum, the heart's beat, the audible 
 breath, the work-a-day murmur of life through 
 all the body to which he was brain, there came, 
 in the idiom of the speaking typewriter, the cry 
 of a soul in the agonies of literary travail. There 
 would be a sluggish, flagging run of clicks ; a 
 pause ; a desperate rush at the enemy again, sus- 
 tained through a brief and feverish fit of clicking ; 
 then a stumble, a pause ; another fit, shorter ; a 
 third, a mere spasm ; and then a dying fall, drib- 
 bling off into silence that lasted ; and then 
 Brumby turned, and eyed with disrelish the 
 nephew in whom the fountains had dried. 
 
 Much hung on this Dick. Brumby himself, 
 like Augustus, had been called to empire young. 
 His father, who feared nothing, had started life 
 again, at fifty, as a rural magnate, in a house of 
 icy classic purity, bought at the death — which 
 it hastened — of the great jurist, Lord Dunoustie,
 
 18 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 long the strength of the Judicial Committee of 
 the Privy Council, one of the councillors who, the 
 Bible says, " built desolate places for themselves." 
 As Dunoustie was in Fife, it could not be mis- 
 taken for the British Museum ; that was all you 
 could say for it. For nineteen years the stout 
 old George Brumby bore on fine days the 
 refrigerative sight of its facade, a third of it 
 densely columned portico, impenetrable by light 
 or heat, and on wet days the elegance of a gusty 
 interior where the soul of some raving Edinburgh 
 March seemed to stir in the corpse of a minor 
 Versailles. The mere whistle of domesticated 
 winds was nothing ; the genius of Biggs had 
 steeled him for that ; it was the lethal chastity 
 of fancy throughout the decoration of this capa- 
 cious morgue that wore him to a thread before 
 he died. 
 
 " Others, it may be, but not we 
 The issue of our toils shall see." 
 
 He fell, but the Brumbies were once more " on 
 the land " for which, like good business men on 
 the rise, they had learned the tragic love of Bour- 
 bons for lost kingdoms ; the county was now all 
 but shooting their grouse ; and one neighbour,
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 19 
 
 when nobody Scotch was in hearing, had called 
 old George " Dunoustie," that last happiness ; for 
 it he had pitched on Fife and no place in 
 England. To miss such a tide at its flood were 
 to be untrue to oneself as well as to the mighty 
 dead. Dunoustie called to young George. But, 
 first, to find a vice-gerent at the Warder, an heir, 
 too, of his state, for none had been born in the 
 very purple. With some tremors he had half 
 fixed on Dick, remembering his own Atlantean 
 toils when at twenty-five he passed from a little 
 racing and some dalliance with the lighter stage, 
 to show the foremen of a great business, which 
 he did not know, the way to go about it. Oh, 
 the run there had been, in bluffing through the 
 first months, on no mean stock of native brass ! 
 Could Dick do as much ? Was it in him ? 
 
 You could not say, yet ; now a sign told this 
 way, now that. For himself young George had 
 said farewell, a long farewell, to books, in the fifth 
 form at Harrow ; of bookishness and the allied 
 taint of uppishness, to which young minds are so 
 exposed at the university, he had a sane dread. 
 Still, Dick did not seem lost. At Oxford, as far 
 as was known, he had diversified a life of rude 
 health with a little reading not conducive to a
 
 2o A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 degree ; he rowed in every race he could ; at foot- 
 ball his brilliance was unquestionable ; he had 
 once been all but sent down for helping to burn 
 the Jacobean portion of the Garden Quad, in the 
 gaiety of his youth, on some sufficient occasion. 
 All this counted, and Brumby, who always thought 
 the best of a man till he knew the worst, hoped 
 that at Oxford Dick on the whole had used his 
 time, made good friends, and learnt to carry his 
 wine like a gentleman. 
 
 But Dick had fads. One was for a kind of 
 writing ; not the right kind ; not saying what he 
 had to say, and that's an end of it, but a plaguy, 
 itchy fussing over some phrase, planing it down or 
 bevelling it off, inlaying it with picked words of a 
 queer far-fetched aptness, making it clang with 
 whole pomps of proper names, that boomed into 
 their places, like drums and cymbals in symphonies, 
 or twinkle and tingle, shot with ironies, or rise and 
 fall like a voice that means more by the tune than 
 the words ; apish tricks, held in distaste by his 
 uncle, in whom good sense and right feeling 
 burned with a flame too eager and quick to let 
 him dally with forms. There was Dick, at this 
 moment, grunting and sweating and sticking fast 
 a dozen times ; all this in a little picture-notice
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 21 
 
 that a journalist who knew his work would turn 
 off in ten minutes. Why, if it came to that, was 
 he doing such things at all ? Brumby was no 
 Philistine, he had the best wall of Turners in 
 Halland. But he knew work from play. " We 
 must bring him on," he felt ; Dick must be weaned 
 from these finicking aesthetics. With Brumby, 
 to will an end was to pounce, next thing, on some 
 means to it. Office messengers came in and went 
 out, almost ceaselessly, on silent soles. The next 
 to come brought a low pile of crinkling sheets of 
 tissue paper pinned together. 
 
 " Lord Albry's speech, sir," the boy said, 
 handing it. 
 
 " Ah," said Brumby, with such gusto as decency 
 allowed before the menial. Lord Albry was 
 rhetorician - in - chief to the party. And then 
 Brumby had an idea. 
 
 " Last slips ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, sir. Conn-elusion, sir." 
 
 Released with a nod, the boy left the presence. 
 
 With the " flimsy " unread in his hand, Brumby 
 turned to where Dick was tilting his chair on its 
 hind legs and malevolently eyeing, from the 
 distance thus attained, the abortive heir of his 
 invention.
 
 22 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " Dick," Brumby called, in the tone of the senior 
 at ease in his beneficence. 
 
 " Uncle ? " Dick's eyes looked up, not his 
 care-eaten mind. 
 
 Brumby beckoned Dick to a chair near his and 
 passed him the sheaf of rustling leaves. It was 
 inordinate promotion. Dick, though of the blood, 
 was the rawest acolyte ; what other high priest 
 would have had him on a night like this, into the 
 Holy of Holies ; but Brumby always had said that 
 what others might think Quixotic he found, as 
 often as not, to be the true prudence. 
 
 " Read it out, will you ? " he said to Dick. 
 
 Dick's eyes groped vacantly over the pencilled 
 film. 
 
 " Warder, Halland," he began, without life, at 
 the first words he found written. 
 
 " Yes, yes." Brumby tapped the edge of his 
 desk, conductor-fashion, with his hexagonal blue 
 pencil. " It's addressed to us of course. But the 
 speech, man, the speech." . He spoke with a 
 judge's contained and purposeful impatience. 
 Really the boy should have learnt by now to give 
 his mind to what he was at. 
 
 Dick's mild and magnificent eye travelled 
 slowly to the point where the pencil hit the desk.
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 23 
 
 If you tried to bustle Dick at his work, he just 
 laid down the work and, unhasting, unresting, 
 took in the idea of bustle. It was quite respectful ; 
 it might be reverent ; but it made you a conscious 
 phenomenon. So a twinge of discomfort traversed 
 the uncle. Take a man as you find him though ; 
 that was one of his rules. " All right, my boy," he 
 said with re-fixed good humour, " you'll soon 
 learn." 
 
 For a moment more the pensive lustre of Dick's 
 gaze rested on the point of contact of the two 
 woods. Some lights are turned on sooner than 
 off. Then it withdrew, unhurried, to the flimsy 
 and made casts over its surface. " Ah, this 
 will be it," he said at last, glad to do what was 
 wished. 
 
 Brumby's feet were only just kept from drumming 
 a peremptory tune by his certainty that, if they 
 did so, two large pools of luminous darkness would, 
 after a short period of adjustment, be reposing on 
 them, framing a conception of them. So he 
 merely said, " Well ? " and then Dick read aloud, 
 without dramatic intention or fire ; indeed he made 
 all run into one — the current voice of the great 
 man and the interjections wrung from the bosoms 
 of his audience ; the tone was the same ; only a
 
 24 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 slight jolt announced Dick's discomfort when the 
 thread broke at either end of these improvisations. 
 
 " ' And now,' " he read out, " ' I have done — 
 (cries of "No, no," and "Go on")— all but this 
 last word ; — be one people (Cheers) ; have no 
 parties.' " 
 
 "Eh? Eh?" queried Brumby, uneasy. No 
 nonsense, he hoped, from Albry, of all men. 
 
 " • Root up the weeds of faction — yes — 
 (Cheers).' " 
 
 " Ah ! " Brumby breathed. This looked more 
 
 like. 
 
 " ' Purge the dross, the unpatriotic, undutiful 
 dross, out of Parliament, — yes — (Cheers).' " 
 
 " Good ! " Brumby rose, quite relieved ; he 
 must stand with his back to the fire. The first 
 nip of verbal strong waters worked in him visibly ; 
 as Dick read, his uncle's face, his body, his clothes 
 became charged with expression ; firmly and ever 
 more firmly he planted himself on the rug ; swiftly, 
 as ideas opened out, he undid all the buttons of 
 his frock-coat ; relentlessly, as the relentless logic 
 closed in, nail by nail, he did them up ; as the 
 peroration burst into view he threw an ascending 
 series of chests and glared terribly at the umbrella- 
 rack, coal-box and other points where holders of
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 25 
 
 dissimilar views might be conceived as attempting 
 a last stand. 
 
 "'Keep down,'" Dick's voice trailed on, un- 
 stirred, "'the vermin of politics — yes — (Renewed 
 cheers).' " 
 
 "Strong, that," said Brumby with a gusto the 
 least bit dubious ; he was great on the decencies 
 of public life. " Still," — there was a moment's 
 struggle ; then he relinquished the attempt to 
 carry charity to lengths vetoed by reason — " they 
 are vermin, most of these latter-day Radicals, 
 literally." 
 
 "Literally?" Dick's eyes swung round on 
 their axis ; there was speculation in them now ; 
 the 'prentice wordsman, intent as a child on the 
 mystery, questioned the face of his elder in the 
 craft ; not demurring ; simply wanting to know. 
 " Literally ? " 
 
 To Brumby, now soaring in bluest vaults of 
 generous passion, technique was as clay. Base 
 was the slave who parsed ; no man, but a worm, 
 he who defined his terms. But it was, to be fair 
 to him, not in his mind to impute to his own flesh 
 and blood so grovelling an interest. The lad, he 
 felt, was just wondering, could the world be so 
 bad?
 
 26 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " My boy," Brumby began with gentle firmness ; 
 he would hold Dick's arm while he showed him 
 the pit. Then he checked. No ; better spare 
 the boy while he could. " Well, well, you'll know 
 soon enough. Yes ? " 
 
 Dick was to read on. His eyes, with the 
 wonder still in them, revolved back to the tele- 
 gram. " ' And thus, and thus only, be one people 
 — (Loud cheers). I fear this is no popular doctrine 
 I give you. Well, I give it — (Renewed cheers). 
 And now do as you will. Punish me ; drive me, 
 if you wish, from public life. I can bear it. I 
 can, I trust, bear anything but the thought that 
 I had kept from you, at this hour of all hours in 
 our nation's life, one jot of such truth as may be 
 in me — (Tremendous cheering, during which Lord 
 Albry resumed his seat, having spoken for an hour 
 and ten minutes).' " 
 
 " Now, there's a man" said Brumby, when he 
 could trust his voice. 
 
 At the words a new wonder shone out of Dick 
 — not dissent ; only a wish to be taught. " To — 
 to stand that rot — cheering and all that ? " 
 
 " Rot ! " Brumby stared. What morbid freak 
 was it now ? 
 
 " I mean — well, of course anyone would feel a
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 27 
 
 fool, being buttered up, that way. You mean, he 
 didn't shirk it?" 
 
 Talk like this made Brumby feel as if fissures, 
 going down to the waters under the earth, were 
 opening between his feet. " Think, think," he 
 said sharply, "think what the man has at 
 stake." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Dick, almost hurriedly — friendly 
 soul, he hated to vex people ; when he lost touch 
 he would make rushes this way and that, if 
 perchance he might meet them half-way. "You 
 mean there's the risk of — of what might be 
 thought of him — giving that mob what it liked, 
 that way?" 
 
 Brumby's voice grew austere, almost pinched, 
 a strange thing for it. " Is it really possible," he 
 asked, "that you did not grasp what Lord 
 Albry said of being driven from public 
 life ? " 
 
 " Was it," said Dick, only wanting to concur, 
 if he could see with what — and, you know, he 
 had not quite given his mind to what he read — 
 "was it, — he felt he couldn't go on for ever at 
 this sort of thing — of course he'd hate it, anyone 
 would — getting up that way and telling a crowd, 
 to its face, that it's right ? "
 
 28 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 It was clearly a case for a talking-to. Yet 
 Brumby was not glad, wholly. Nothing was 
 more to his mind as a rule, than public speaking, 
 in private ; that was the true nectar, with no fly 
 in it ; the real thing, real in the bald and rigid 
 sense, was like the Greek triremes of war to which, 
 we are told, many fortunate flukes had to happen 
 before they would act ; he must have had wine 
 enough, but only enough ; all must go well with 
 the early joke, broad, genial, and humane, at which 
 the audience should warm with a sense that he 
 too, high as he stood, was a man and a brother ; 
 till, at least, he had played himself in, the cheers 
 must come all right at each appointed place, the 
 purple patch at the close of each clause, freely 
 enough to let him run over, without looking 
 stuck, the heads of the next on a card in the 
 palm of his hand ; but, based on a hearthrug, 
 man could dominate his world ; with the 
 cashier, or a young reporter, or even with 
 as close approximations to a hero's valets as 
 his wife and daughter, hanging on his lips, 
 Brumby felt he could make them hang, and 
 he liked it. 
 
 But Dick was a disconcerting lump to address ; 
 not lumpish, strictly ; a graceful mass, a great
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 29 
 
 stalking athlete from a Greek frieze; you might 
 feel him crazy, but not null ; docile too, in a way ; 
 as often as Brumby came out with some crystal 
 of practical wisdom, the slowly formed gains of 
 a lifetime, or handed to Dick some holograph 
 chart, his own work, of the shoaly seas of thought 
 upon life and conduct, upon business, manners and 
 the arts, Dick would listen with rounding eyes, 
 silent or only putting in, here and there, a question 
 that opened up new reaches to be buoyed out by 
 the pilot mind ; and yet — well, to change the 
 figure, it seemed as if some fine pile of rock had 
 asked nothing better of Moses than just to be 
 smitten and have its miraculous waters drawn 
 from it, and Moses had smitten, and then found 
 the rod would not bite on that special formation 
 of rock ; there are feathers, again, that a pellet 
 will glance off; in Dick's willingness to learn, 
 the most unerring shafts of the elder's sagacity 
 buried themselves and were lost, like bullets 
 fired into penetrable-looking sand. Still, a man 
 must try ; it was only fair to the boy, and to the 
 paper. 
 
 " My dear boy," Brumby began, with only the 
 faintest presentient note of deflation in the full 
 tone, " do be warned, once for all, against morbid
 
 3 o A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 refining on what are, I assure you, the clearest 
 things in the world, — the dictates of right feeling, 
 and common sense. Dick, now that your man- 
 hood has come, I do beseech you, pull yourself 
 together ; keep a fast hold on the things that do 
 matter in life — the great sanities, the great 
 simplicities of life. All honour, I say " — and now 
 the voice, heartened by his ear, rang out nobly, — 
 "to Lord Albry that he keeps in touch with all 
 that is best in our people. All honour, I say 
 again, to our people's hearts if they know, and 
 show that they know, a man when they see 
 
 him." 
 
 Brumby's chest, always good, was superbly 
 convex as he finished this exordium, with his 
 coat entirely buttoned up, and severely tried 
 at the buttons, and his planted legs almost 
 columnar in aspect with the grandeur of his 
 spirit. Ah, had Dick been a full drill - hall, 
 clapping. But there he sat, a statue, heroic 
 size, of balked desire to be thrilled, sure that 
 it must be something real that one who knew 
 so much better had got hold of; but, beyond 
 that, immersed in perplexity. While the orator 
 contended with a shiver, there came a diffi- 
 dent tap at a door. " Confound ! " said the
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 31 
 
 orator's voice, but his heart said, "Thank 
 God!" 
 
 " Come in," he shouted, and then, as the opening 
 door was peered round by a diffident face, " Oh ! 
 You, Fay ? Come in, my dear fellow."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 "And whereso'er such lord is found, such client still will be." 
 
 Macaulay 
 
 TT AY looked, say, thirty-three ; he had eyes like 
 ■*■ a nice beast's, shy but not savage, a mouth 
 all atwitch with responsiveness to anyone's mood ; 
 mobile colour ; and, just where in English faces 
 the firmly blank chins are, a waiting alphabet of 
 meaning dimples, to be marshalled by each 
 moment's emotion into copious scriptures of 
 expression. He walked as on sufferance, offering 
 the ground, with manifest misgivings, the refusal 
 of himself; the foot, as he entered now, did not 
 take the floor plump, like a free man's ; it hung, 
 it fumbled at the oilcloth, every touch a "Beg 
 your pardon," or "Am I a nuisance?" said in 
 the idiom of gait. 
 
 You might, offhand, have said, either " Sheep- 
 ish lout ! " or " Parasitic fraud ! " and been wrong in 
 either. Working lips, fidgety eyes, all the quick, 
 weak, clever sensibility that flickered about the 
 
 face and braced and slackened off the limbs as 
 
 32
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 33 
 
 the eyes took light or caught a chill from some- 
 body else's look of spirit or shiver of misgiving — 
 these were enigmatic till you guessed that they 
 came of two things, distinguishable, a gift and a 
 knack of using it. First there was, playing its 
 authentic melodies of self-expression on the eyes 
 and mouth and the tunable blood in the cheeks, 
 the Celt's — one breed of Celt's — shy ardour of 
 longing to understand you, please you, concur 
 with you. Then, over those kind fires, there 
 watched, furtive, alert, defensive, a sense of their 
 use for ends not themselves. Sympathy was a 
 passion ; yet, in the thick of its tumults, a wari- 
 ness had found means to live ; you espied it, at 
 moments, through the whirl, sitting contained, 
 secure, conceivably gleeful. 
 
 "Come in, Fay," Brumby iterated, "come in." 
 To a burly British heartiness a touch of almost 
 anxious cordiality was added as he greeted this 
 exotic. Dick found he was thinking ; — " Strange ! 
 What good can he be to my uncle ? " The critic 
 in Dick had begun. 
 
 " Why, I don't believe," the genial voice was 
 rolling on, " you and my nephew Dick have met." 
 
 The younger men bowed ; the Irishman awed, 
 
 as his way was, by any complete stranger's force 
 3
 
 34 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 o 
 
 of mind and beauty of soul. Dick marvelled 
 more calmly ; in these days, like the Jews in the 
 Bible, he often marvelled greatly ; yet he had on 
 a rind, still, of the fuss-shunning public school- 
 boy ; it made him, outside, seem blent of the lofty 
 soul in Aristotle's ethics, to whom " nothing was 
 so very great," and the first man, on the first clear 
 night, with the moon and stars about him. 
 
 " Mr Fay, as you know — " Brumby's voice 
 again ; for a second the others had met in a quiet 
 of their own ; now a settled blue-bottle seemed 
 to take wing ; it broke into the tete-a-tete. " Mr 
 Fay, as you know, is my confidential secretary, 
 and, if he will bear my saying so," — he put a 
 fatherly hand on the shoulder of each — " as fine a 
 model for a young English journalist as any you'll 
 find in the Press." 
 
 " Please, please ! " Fay spluttered, and then his 
 eyes, in trying to wriggle out of their sockets 
 with confusion, hit again upon Dick's, and abode 
 there, moored to he could not tell what. While 
 Brumby buzzed on, almost defiant in his stress 
 on his own zeal to praise where praise was due, 
 each looked past or through him, and some way 
 into the other, and distantly signalled a wish to 
 look further.
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 35 
 
 " I say," Brumby rounded to a close, "as any in 
 the British Press. And now," he broke off, " for 
 shop." 
 
 Dick took it that he was done with ; his par- 
 turient genius, he supposed, might now return to 
 the privacy from which it had been summoned. 
 No such thing. " Rest a while, Dick," came 
 his uncle's voice like a clap on the shoulder ; 
 " stay here a bit, my boy ; high time we let you in- 
 to ' the secrets of the prison-house ' ! " In Brumby's 
 elocution any quotations he made were fenced 
 round with audible inverted commas and closed 
 with a note of exclamation gigantic beyond the 
 power of print to express. This served three 
 good ends ; it drew your mind to his command 
 of literature ; it reassured you — told you that, 
 with him, lapses from the virile, literal use of 
 words were not the rule ; and it warned you 
 fairly that the matter quoted must be taken 
 as it stood, with all its faults, the vendor not 
 being the maker. At this voluminous note on 
 the poor old tag, Dick's eyes again, by some 
 chance, ran up against Fay's ; not a wince of 
 disloyalty was there either in the nephew's or the 
 right hand man's ; both looks were virginally 
 blank ; still, they met.
 
 36 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 Dick sat back in a chair, at the receipt of ideas ; 
 Brumby, from his state on the hearthrug, turned, 
 every inch the able editor, to Fay ; Fay, under 
 the Jovian eye, shuffled on the oilcloth, leant, for 
 countenance, on the edge of the table, and 
 crumpled or wrung out visionary caps between 
 his fingers. All looked excellent in their parts. 
 
 " The leader to-night, of course — " Brumby 
 began. 
 
 " Only one subject possible — seems to me," 
 Fay abruptly cut in. At the other's " Of course," 
 he went off like a gun ; from that instant you saw 
 — Brumby saw — that Fay had come charged with 
 explosive personal conviction on the point, so 
 that even at his liege lord he must let fly, if 
 opposed, and spare not. 
 
 You may stroke pretty hard, if you stroke the 
 right way. " As you say," purred Brumby, " Lord 
 Albry's speech. You've read the report ? " 
 
 " Not to the very end," said Fay. He had not, 
 in fact, read a word ; had not known, till now, 
 that Lord Albry was speaking. But he made it 
 his care to let cats out of bags, and genies from 
 their leaden pots, by very minute instalments ; a 
 finger-nail, or the tip of an ear, enough to begin 
 with ; freedom, time to look round, to draw back,
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 37 
 
 these he must have. "Cut losses and let profits 
 run " ; the children of this world, investing in that 
 which is dross, make a practice of that ; how 
 much more needful the liberty to do so when 
 the venture is in stuff precious and perilous, like 
 candour. 
 
 Brumby handed the flimsy. " There you are ! " 
 he said. Fay dropped an eye from the head to 
 the foot of each page. Then he looked up. 
 "Well?" Brumby asked. 
 
 " Well, for my own part — " Fay said and 
 paused. What need, his face said, of words? 
 Pursed lips, raised brows, a speaking shrug — the 
 plastic clay had set ; it offered an image symbolic 
 of strength of opinion. 
 
 Brumby purred again. " I thought you'd be 
 struck. What's this though? Oh, another slip; 
 it's the last ; I mislaid it." Fay's eye swiftly 
 descended it, too. 
 
 " Eh ? " Brumby asked. 
 
 " Well, personally I — " But no. Of what use 
 to speak ? Strong men are still men ; words fall 
 so far short of their rugged individual sense of the 
 impossibility of any view but the one. Fay as he 
 stopped, opened both palms, almost Gallically, 
 with a little laugh. " I must really give you
 
 38 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 up," it seemed to say, " if you're not sound on 
 this." 
 
 So Brumby took it. " I knew you'd feel that," 
 he said ; and again, with an inculcative glance at 
 Dick, " knew it." Ah, had Dick such conviction ! 
 " Something like, eh ? " he went on to Fay, with a 
 nod towards the speech. 
 
 Fay had read scarcely a word ; he had not had 
 time ; who can read and fence too, in a moment ? 
 Better to pick out of Brumby both what was said 
 in the speech and what must be written about it. 
 All Fay did was to take up the key-note of gusto. 
 " Hits pretty hard," he said, with enjoyment, " does 
 Albry. Still — " Again he pulled up ; enough if 
 he turned the leaf; not for him to fill the new 
 page ; he handed Brumby the pencil. 
 
 Brumby took it. " Still, as you say, not too 
 hard. Well, now it's our turn. Frankly, now, 
 what shall we say in the leader ? " 
 
 Fay, like other tall spirits, was most himself 
 when most pressed. Any of your common 
 fungoid growths on greatness would have halted, 
 stammered, vowed it was not for him to say. The 
 stumping question was always the one that Fay 
 dealt with most patly. " Why," he said promptly, 
 " if you should leave it to me," and again no words
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 39 
 
 were sweeping enough ; again a gleaming blank 
 page was held out to the itching pencil. 
 
 " I confess," said Brumby gravely, " I entirely 
 agree." 
 
 Fay fished away tranquilly. " Of course, if 
 Albry hits out, we — " 
 
 The fish did its duty. " Precisely," said 
 Brumby. " We must hit too, and hard. What- 
 ever it cost, that brave man must not stand 
 alone." 
 
 That was clear, then ; Albry was still to be 
 backed ; lately his vogue had not been quite what 
 it was ; and Brumby was no sentimentalist ; no 
 one less likely than he to go about bowing to suns 
 that were unmistakably setting ; Albry's, it seemed, 
 was still high enough in the sky ; he was the man, 
 and wisdom would die with him. Turns for the 
 better in many crises like this had disciplined 
 Fay's jaws and gullet ; he could swallow a sigh of 
 relief as clean as the well - bred will eat up a 
 hiccough. One was being thus privily consumed 
 when, from the ignored, forgotten Dick, came the 
 one word, round and full as an astonished eye — 
 " Alone ! " 
 
 Little as Fay had looked at Lord Albry's 
 speech, still he had just caught a glimpse of that
 
 40 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 nobleman martyred with volleys of roses, and 
 holding out faithfully unto that end. He liked such 
 spectacles. So his eyes and Dick's met again, 
 and each understood ; there was reticence still, 
 but a reticence, now, that stated the theme of its 
 silence ; and then they heard, like a noise in the 
 street when you talk indoors, Brumby's voice, now 
 cross, breaking in on that tacit exchange of per- 
 ceptions, and measuring too how far he was barred 
 out from having a part in it. " Dick, I understood 
 you were to write a notice of the Mountain 
 Painters' Exhibition." 
 
 How beastly percipient, Dick felt, the beggar's 
 face was ; nothing, indeed, distinct enough to 
 resent in the sense that there was in Fay's eyes of 
 the meanness of hinting that Dick was neglecting 
 the work from which the hinter had kept him ; not 
 a twinkle, not a long look, even ; and, yet, instant, 
 complete comprehension. Among these three — 
 between, also, any two of them — there were ex- 
 clusions, concessions, sufferances, ironies, not 
 understood altogether by Dick, not understood 
 at all, he was coming to think, by his uncle. 
 This Fay understood all ; see him now, where he 
 stood shuffling, colouring, hanging out every signal 
 of sheepish discomfort ; and no empty signals
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 41 
 
 either ; discomfort was there ; and yet, with it, a 
 wit that played at its ease, stripped them naked 
 and took in the turns of their minds like so many 
 diaphanous ruses of children. However, Dick 
 was back in his room, to meditate the thankless 
 muse. 
 
 "Sorry to put it on to you," said Brumby to 
 Fay, " but do you think you could write on Albry 
 to-night ? " 
 
 "I'll try, if you wish it." 
 
 " The truth is I have a rather big Church 
 Schools Protection Committee to-night ; " — he 
 looked at his watch — " by Jove, I must bolt 
 to it." 
 
 This, or some allied truth, was a homage that 
 Brumby would commonly pay, of a night, to 
 self-love. To be easy, he had to be sure it was 
 something quite out of the way if he hurled any 
 lightning not quite his own make. The time Fay 
 had been forging him bolts now ran into years, 
 but the freshness of Brumby's first sense of 
 only just leaving his post for a moment or so was 
 still unabated ; each night there would fall, to his 
 unhidden disappointment, some chance that took 
 the pen from his hand ; each night, as he asked 
 Fay to write in his stead, there thrilled in his voice
 
 42 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 the fears of a Napoleon, forced at a critical hour to 
 turn over everything to a lieutenant, one who is 
 capable, who will do his best, but is not Napoleon. 
 
 At the committees too — and they multiplied, 
 for the bossing of good works is like dram-drinking 
 — chances of much the same kind had a way of 
 befalling. When the talking gave out, and work 
 was at hand, Brumby used to be torn from the 
 board by the outcries of his duty to the Warder. 
 As this, in a man of his mettle, proved his toils for 
 the paper more exacting than the most exacting 
 tasks of the body he relinquished, all its members 
 felt what a terrible life an editor's was. As he left 
 the Warder too, when its need was the sorest, 
 its staff were touched by the measure this gave of 
 the appalling severity of calls which outweighed a 
 confessed preference for the more to the less trying 
 parts of journalism. So his fame grew at both 
 ends ; having several working-places to leave when 
 anything had to be done with a will in any of 
 them, he gained the name of a man who did with 
 all his might whatsoever his hand found to do 
 And that reputation was sacred in his sight ; 
 it never lacked, at the right time, like this, the 
 offering of a few properly chosen words. 
 
 No acolyte could like, better than Fay did, the
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 43 
 
 fun of swinging the censer and watching the 
 celebrant priest as he made the oblation. When 
 Fay gave his response, his " I'll try, if you wish 
 it," the tone was one that the celebrant Brumby 
 would snuff up like myrrh. It conveyed all the 
 essential truth of the matter ; that Fay's lips 
 would be put to the mouthpiece of the megaphone 
 just for this once, by way of experiment, pro- 
 bably unsuccessful, but less so than if he had not 
 Brumby's example, Brumby's spirit, to animate 
 him so strongly that, indeed, in no profound or 
 philosophical sense could Fay, or anything but 
 Brumby, be said to be there at all. 
 
 "Could you write here to-night?" Brumby 
 asked. 
 
 "In your room?" Fay stressed the "your" 
 delicately. " I, a writer, mind camping on 
 Helicon?" the stress said, without being fulsome. 
 
 Brumby designated his own chair. " It won't 
 put you off? " he asked with complacent humility. 
 
 " Not it ! " Fay laughed, lucidly. Apollo's own 
 seat put him off! He would fetch his typing 
 machine in a moment. 
 
 Would he mind too, asked Brumby, glancing 
 through Dick's notice, when done, and sending it 
 up to be set ; he, Brumby, would see it in proof —
 
 44 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 would be back by midnight, he hoped, but might 
 be kept later. Dick, he ought to explain, after a 
 week of trial in harness, was leaving that night by 
 the midnight train for a fortnight in the Lakes. 
 
 " And I want you to tell me, frankly, just what 
 you think of the boy's work before he is finally 
 put on the staff." In just such a whisper might 
 Haroun Alraschid have bidden the trusty, the 
 lowly Mesrour take a look at the latest thing in 
 the way of a likely heir to the Caliphate. 
 
 Yes, Mesrour would try. He went out to fetch 
 his plant. And then, through the other open door, 
 Brumby eyed the labouring Dick, with a look 
 compounded of many ingredients — distaste for 
 the crank, the freak, the inopportunist, frozen 
 when it was time to flow, fluent in unprofitable 
 interjections when it was time to refrain from 
 flowing ; and dynastic instinct and hope ; and 
 affection for his sister's son ; and then, again, 
 jealousy for his own son, who had not been born. 
 " Dick," he called pretty genially, going to him. 
 
 " Uncle ? " The answer came out of cavernous 
 depths of absorption. Dick had again got far 
 from the Brumbies and Fays of this world ; he 
 bore, in a dark of his own, the dear agonies of 
 artists who have not a method, and want one —
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 45 
 
 saw, with sweats and aches of desire, the vanes on 
 spires he could envisage, but not build — only 
 fumble about the formless bases of thoughts that, 
 could they be given their rights, would spring 
 clean up at the sky, all the world's grace in one 
 jet, lifted on all the world's strength. 
 
 " Good-bye, Dick. May not see you again — 
 that's if you're done early, as I hope." His eye 
 upbraided the meagre issue of Dick's travail. 
 " Ah, you should just see Fay put a job through 
 when he's driven." A valedictory hand enjoined 
 Dick's shoulder ; " Model yourself on him, my 
 boy. Not on me. On him ! "
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 " Your young men shall see visions." 
 
 Joel ii. 28 
 
 T N the creative mind, as well as in other places, 
 
 -■- the wind bloweth where it listeth. In Dick's 
 
 it was now to blow great guns, but not ones that 
 
 held. Heady gusts of clicking would drop down 
 
 into lulls of some length, painfully traversed by 
 
 straggling single files of ticks ; and these light 
 
 airs would die right away to dead calms, or again 
 
 be whipped up into fresh squalls that had a keep- 
 
 it-up-or-else-we're-done-for clatter about them, as 
 
 if a horse were trying to rush a hill too steep for 
 
 the weight in the cart. The spirit bloweth and is 
 
 still. 
 
 Where Fay sat there was continuous peace ; not 
 
 one click was his typewriter asked for. Brumby 
 
 gone, he had sent for the whole report of Lord 
 
 Albry's speech ; but not to read through ; he 
 
 glanced at two or three pages picked at random ; 
 
 then, as if these samples had merely confirmed 
 
 some previous estimate of the value of rhetoric in 
 
 bulk, he plumped down on the whole pile of 
 
 46
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 47 
 
 volatile tissue a monumental paper-weight, round 
 the outer edge of which it rose mantling and 
 reaming like some fluffy ghost fighting the stake 
 run through its vitals to lay it, while Fay took 
 from a pocket several small bundles of typewritten 
 papers, chose one maturely, and, putting back the 
 rest, looked critically through it, taking his ease in 
 his chair and laying down page after page on the 
 table, when read. 
 
 Once or twice, when Dick's pangs were more 
 
 poignantly articulate than usual, Fay looked 
 
 through the door, and moved uneasily, as you 
 
 will see a cat, when a baby cries, uncurl from her 
 
 sleep at the fire, fidget, and gurgle, compelled by 
 
 her matronly bowels of compassion. Nothing but 
 
 this had yet marred the Sabbatical calm in the 
 
 editor's room, or interrupted the tempest in Dick's, 
 
 when, twenty minutes after Brumby had left, there 
 
 fell on Fay's ears, resonant and abrupt, like some 
 
 surprise visit from conscience, the question : 
 
 " How the deuce d'you come to do it ? " 
 
 Dick was throwing one of his bombs again. 
 
 And how could you know it was harmless ? So 
 
 Fay, who was not a soldier of fortune for nothing, 
 
 rushed in to pick up the bomb and throw it away ; 
 
 at the first word his hand had gone with a jump to
 
 48 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 his typewriter's keyboard ; by the time that Dick's 
 last word was out, the machine was well in its 
 stride. " Pardon, one moment," he said, not 
 thinking what he said ; just the instinctive first 
 pass of a fencer set upon in the dark and striking 
 out anyhow till he find his guard. Or, say, he 
 typed as if every word typed were a spadeful of 
 earth and he had to throw up an earthwork breast 
 high or be taken. " You said ? " he asked, when 
 first he could rest on his spade. 
 
 " What beats me's how you ever learnt this sort 
 of trick ? " 
 
 " Trick ? " But, in Fay, histrionic resent- 
 ment was never first-rate. Some imp in him, 
 some traitor inside the walls, would run a 
 pin into a gas-bag of his own inflating, in his 
 hour of need, as soon as if it were somebody 
 else's. 
 
 " Trick ? Knack then. D'you want it called 
 accomplishment?" Dick grimaced, and again 
 their minds met in a wince at the impossible word. 
 " I mean how on earth do you turn to and write, 
 straight on, when you have to ? " 
 
 Was that all ? Relief had again to consume its 
 own smoke. " Oh, you leave off your damnable 
 faces and begin," Fay said inspiritingly.
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 49 
 
 " But — when you care ? " said Dick. " When the 
 thing, that you're writing on, matters ? " 
 
 " Ah ? " said Fay, piqued by the change of topic. 
 He sat back, his face all kind eyes and pricked 
 ears. Dick had come near ; he sat on a corner of 
 the table, his big thighs flattened out to gigantic 
 widths ; Fay admired them. 
 
 "It's like this," Dick began, and then panic 
 seized the thought that had seemed to have so 
 much in it till the time came to leave the warm, 
 dark place of its birth in the mind. It held back 
 in fright, lest it be like one's wit, that so flashed 
 and rang in a dream, till you awoke and, lo, it was 
 gibberish. Fay lit a pipe. Lucina's self can do 
 no more, on these occasions. 
 
 Dick plunged. " I saw the earth made, this 
 July." Fay nodded, the understanding nod of 
 wise child to wise child. Dick was helped. " It 
 was in the Valais ; we were climbing. You know 
 the sort of thing ? " 
 
 " No." The tone said " Tell me." 
 
 " You pig half the night in a hut, some way up, 
 at the edge of the snow. At, say, two, you get up 
 and go on. By Jove, it's still. You can hear 
 every little whispering whistle of a wind that can't 
 stir a thing, it's so small— only go leaping about in
 
 5 o A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 the dark, doing nothing. There's always a torrent 
 a mile off down in the valley ; you go up and up 
 and the noise of it thins away to a sort of hum of 
 thought about some noise there used to be — you 
 know the way, when you're going asleep, the thud 
 in the street drones off into a dream about it. 
 Next thing you look up with a start ; the front 
 man has stopped to put out the lantern, but ever 
 so far off, over the Rhone, there's a grave, russet 
 light being held to the face of sleeping provinces." 
 
 "'Held to the face of sleeping provinces.' 
 H'm," said Fay, " it scans. All right otherwise. 
 I say, though, provinces ? What about cantons ? " 
 
 " Cantons ? Hang it, no. That murders it. 
 Provinces." It was the first time that Dick had 
 ever stood up for a wording of his own, not to say 
 one he did not know the case for. To his amaze- 
 ment, Fay saw — in fact, had only feared lest Dick 
 had preferred the good tune to the bad by an 
 accident. 
 
 " Of course it's ' provinces,' " said Fay, delighted. 
 " Go it." 
 
 Dick did. " Next, all that side of the earth lets 
 down with a dip, and the sun sets off, right up the 
 sky. He has spiky rays sticking out all round. 
 The whole thing looks naked and sore at first —
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 51 
 
 eye with no eyelids — that sort of feel. Then our 
 mountain fired his morning gun — first fall of rock, 
 you know, for the day — crash into that staring, 
 straining silence, like a stone gone bang into a 
 window. That did it for me ; something gave ; it 
 got out of the way ; just for a second I lit on God, 
 or whoever it is, going on with the earth ; he'd the 
 frost in one hand and that flame in the other ; had 
 been ramming in wedges of ice all night, to split 
 up the stone, and was going round now and pick- 
 ing 'em out with the sun and tilting the night's 
 take of scree down into the valley to add to the 
 made earth he has there. There I was, right in 
 the forge ; my own body shook, where I stood, 
 with the fall of the hammer that beats out the 
 world." 
 
 Dick's eye, rolling either from heaven to earth, 
 or else back again, caught Fay's midway. Fay's 
 was as gravely and simply intent as could be 
 asked by one in whom there was thawing at last 
 the long frost in which we bind, with so much care, 
 the wits of the picked youth of Britain. It is a 
 shy business, however, this first wild attempt to be 
 human, for one duly schooled in the ethics of 
 petrifaction. They ought to have been in the 
 dark. Dick checked ; the puissant thigh, pressed
 
 52 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 on the table edge, ceased by turns to flatten out 
 and swell up curvilineally, rhythmically, to the 
 swing of the leg below. Obstipait, retroque pedem 
 cum voce repressit. " I can't think," Dick said, 
 rather grim, "why I'm telling you all this." 
 
 " I can't think," Fay responded, " why I knew 
 you'd say it when you started." 
 
 Both, again, had the looks of friends that grope, 
 with a faith in something to find. 
 
 " Perhaps," said Dick, disarming, " that's why 
 I'm telling you." 
 
 " Well ?" Fay puffed Lucina's pipe. 
 
 " Well," resumed Dick ; but it took some more 
 words of his own to bring back the right heat ; 
 " that one second I had my hand on the thing ; 
 only, I couldn't hold it ; it just came slipping 
 across some line, the way stars twinkle into sight 
 and out again, and then it was gone, and the way 
 the earth is made, and moved, and all, were no 
 better than ever — just the old, dead, rotten truths 
 in books. But d'you know, I fancy these beggars 
 who paint — the best of 'em — just stick like that ; 
 I believe they're not kept out of the big finds at 
 all ; they can go on all day coming on the fact 
 that snow's white, and sky blue, and that mothers 
 like their babies, and so on, and yelling ' Bags I ! '
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 53 
 
 at each thing they spot, as if they'd never been set 
 upon at school and shown it was too much of a 
 truism to have the shiny loveliness of being true. 
 They can put us others up to it too. Do you 
 know the best feel in the world ? Oh, no, you said 
 you didn't. Well, it's one special sting on your 
 cheek, the sting of blown granules of ice on a high 
 pass at dawn. I only found that out to-day. More 
 of me felt it, at one of these pictures, than ever 
 got near it all over the Alps." 
 
 He took breath. He had to. Fay, to leave no 
 stillness for ice to re-form in, murmured the worn 
 lines from Browning : 
 
 " For, don't you mark? we're made so that we love 
 First, when we see them painted, things we have passed 
 Perhaps a hundred times, nor cared to see ; 
 And so they are better, painted — better to us, 
 Which is the same thing. Art was given for that." 
 
 " That's it," said Dick, a little surprised, as you 
 are at that age, to find that anyone else has felt 
 what you feel, and not pulled the whole place down 
 to show it. " That beggar knew, who wrote that. 
 I put in four hours raising my eyes from the dead, 
 to-day, at that show. Whole minutes I wasn't 
 blind at all, and, the times I saw, I saw myself
 
 54 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 seeing ; part of me sat and watched the millions of 
 tiny waves — you know the notion — come in and 
 break on shores in my eyes, and bring me my own, 
 home. But — what to write ! " He was fluent 
 now, even in gesture ; floods follow frost in these 
 waters, as in others. " What to write ! " he re- 
 peated, unparalysed by the sound of an interjec- 
 tion, a three-word interjection, from his own lips ; 
 and his whole body, once a public schoolboy's, 
 signalled despair. 
 
 " Why not just that ? " 
 
 " That rant about myself ? " One note of 
 interrogation superimposed on two of exclamation, 
 might give a rough quantitative analysis of Dick's 
 tone into its ingredients of inquiry and horror. 
 
 " Art is about oneself," said Fay. " Still—" 
 Fay's voice hung for a moment. 
 
 Dick could not wait. " Still ? Yes ? " 
 
 If you prefer the alternative — " and Fay raised 
 the voice of some cheerless wader in ponds of dull 
 print, and recited with dragging lifelessness ; — 
 " ' The thirteenth ' — give me the catalogue." Dick 
 handed over an exhibition catalogue in slip proof, 
 a cascade of wriggling coils of paper. Fay looked, 
 and went on. " No ; ' The Fifteenth Annual Ex- 
 hibition of Mountain Paintings by British artists
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 55 
 
 at the City Art Gallery may fairly be said to be 
 marked, on the whole, by a higher level of achieve- 
 ment than . . . ' " He looked a query at Dick. 
 
 " Oh, august muck like that ? " said Dick, with 
 some curiosity. He had seen magisterial trash of 
 the sort, but not in the making. Still, his valua- 
 tion of the product was quite decipherable. 
 
 " Rant away, then," said Fay benignly. " Or," 
 he went on, " would this do ? The scholarly line, 
 sir, the scholarly. ' Sir Joshua's precept that Art 
 must " see large " has clearly . . . ' " 
 
 " You've seen the show, then ? " Dick interrupted. 
 
 " Ex-officio. I'm a journalist, and ex-officio I've 
 seen everything." 
 
 " You've not seen it ? " 
 
 Fay pursued, with untwinkling eyes: "' — has 
 clearly been taken to heart by the best of our 
 younger men.' ' He looked across. Did Dick 
 want any more ? 
 
 " Well, you can forge ! " Dick marvelled. 
 
 " You can't," Fay retorted, " so rant, like an 
 honest boy. There ! " 
 
 He threw Dick the bunch of twirling tails. Fay, 
 towards the end, had talked at his ease ; sheepish- 
 ness had left him. The bravest man, in the most 
 respectable way, may not be his full self while he
 
 56 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 is safe ; it takes a good big risk, with some of 
 these Bayards, to kill off the minor terrors that 
 bully their souls ; you cannot feel shy while the 
 house is on fire, nor be quelled, as you were, by a 
 wart on the nose, with the ship going down. You 
 come up to speak to some danger and find what it 
 means to be let off your every-day fears of speak- 
 ing with friends. Fay's look and voice, while he 
 toyed with possibilities of roguish daring, had the 
 calm of the braced hero's. And yet he was weak ; 
 as Dick went back to his toils with a dismissive 
 " Thank you " for what Fay had offered, in the 
 sure hope of its rejection, Fay's assured ease died 
 out of his face, to have its place soon taken by 
 womanish ruth at the look of Dick's bent head, 
 which was nice, brown, curly and troubled. For a 
 minute the dykes held ; then a new unreserve, new 
 in kind, broke through with a rush : 
 
 " Ah, then, spill it out any way, just as it comes ; 
 why not, and you after seeing just what they're 
 about, there, in spite of the paint. Anny way that 
 it comes. No one'll think that it's good, in this 
 place, but you'll still have the soul in you left, and 
 the sight of an eye in your head, and that's some- 
 thing." 
 
 The trail and swing of the rhythms of Irish
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 57 
 
 speech, now let go by Fay for the first time, were 
 what took Dick most. But the glance at " this 
 place " could still stiffen the nephew in him. So 
 " Thank you " was all he said, again, though not 
 quite as before ; and again he fell to work, trying 
 to rush the glass hill. Each time that he charged 
 a few feet up it, each time that he slithered back 
 with a run, each time he rested to rub his bruises, 
 the typewriter issued its bulletin, audible or silent. 
 
 Fay, too, bent himself up to his task. He 
 looked through a few more typed pages, wrote in 
 a word or two, and then rang. " That's the whole 
 of the leader," he said, giving the bundle to the 
 messenger who came in answer. " This can go, 
 too." He pointed to the weighted pile of tissue 
 paper, the great man's speech ; and the messenger 
 hurried away with the double haul of forage for 
 the linotype machines ravening in the attic. Out 
 of the same teeming pocket as before, Fay selected 
 a second small bundle of typed sheets, and began 
 to go through it like the other, but very warily, 
 somewhat as sparrows feed under windows. 
 
 Half-an-hour went ; in the streets the spaces 
 of silence lengthened and the few sounds left rose 
 into high and higher relief on their background of 
 stillness ; a four - wheeler's iron tyres brutally
 
 58 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 scrunched on the setts ; nails in the boots of a 
 solitary passer rang on the flags ; over the way a 
 tavern closed its back door ; the last Bacchanal to 
 issue, propelled by some hand, could be heard in 
 the windless night asserting the dignity of years 
 — " Lemme alone. I'm an old man. Gimme a 
 drink. Lemme alone " ; then quiet, once ripped 
 right into, far off, by some street-girl's mirthless 
 squeal of laughter ; dotted, too, for a while, with a 
 light periodic spatter on stone, from where a 
 tuberculous subject stood on the kerb, expector- 
 ating, till he shuffled off, holding his shoes 
 on by continuous contact with the pavement, to 
 find a dry arch for the night. Then full, circling 
 silence that seemed almost ancient when across its 
 outer rim there thrilled into hearing the one high 
 note of heroic romance in sleeping cities, the first 
 smash of the gong of a horsed fire-escape ; twenty 
 seconds more and it had rushed crashing up the 
 scale of clearness to an instant glory of torch-light 
 and galloping hoofs in the street below, and then 
 down the other side and out over the edge of the 
 crossed orb of stillness. 
 
 Fay sucked in the divine sound. A big fire, 
 perhaps ; the roof gone ; inside the four black 
 walls a homogeneous hell, a cubical crater tossing
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 59 
 
 up burning logs like so many sparks, or reaching 
 across streets with sixty - foot tongues of flame, 
 their tips uncurling as they went, like tape from a 
 fallen reel, to lick off the paint on the woodwork 
 of opposite windows. Circumstantial imagination 
 was rapture ; but agony, not to be there. Fay had 
 the appetites of youth. What a corpse or an 
 ambulance is to a healthy child, even that was a 
 house on fire to him — its sight an ultimate good, 
 to be sought and feasted upon with as single a 
 fervour, recalled with as wholly thankful a heart 
 for its coming his way, and all without any failure 
 of compassion for the householder or the deceased. 
 
 Dick, like that other boy whom the transit of 
 Venus could not interest, had not so much as 
 looked up while this meteoric clatter traversed the 
 night's firmament of quiet. Fay, confronted with 
 this instance of distraction from the sane quest of 
 a practicable happiness, was just thinking, like 
 Burke, what shadows we are and what shadows we 
 pursue, when Dick abruptly illustrated the reflec- 
 tion by rising with a face sombred with youth's 
 most adequate sense of the length, breadth and 
 depth of its own tragedy. 
 
 " So ? " said Fay to himself, understanding. 
 " Ter frustra comprensa" he quoted aloud, in a
 
 60 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 cheerful interrogative, " manus effugit imago ? 
 Eh?" 
 
 Dick was past capping quotations. " I'm done," 
 he said, making for his hat-peg darkly. 
 
 " Stickit again a bit, eh ? " Fay asked. A nice 
 fix, this, for him that had never felt senior to 
 anyone living. It looked, for all the world, like 
 a case for coming the elder brother. 
 
 Dick was squashing the birth-strangled babe 
 in one hand. " Stick ? It won't. It just slops 
 out of me — mushy, washy, gush — here and there 
 a word means — " for a second the crumpling was 
 stayed — " but the rest — ugh ! " And Dick crushed 
 the object of scorn into a harder ball. 
 
 " Young 'un " — Fay began, with difficulty. How, 
 he tried to recall, did the volunteer elder brothers 
 do it, in English literature? Come to think of 
 it, what was Pendennis' stoop like, with Clive? 
 How did Warrington warm to his lengthened, 
 sage advices ? For one thing, the younger brothers 
 stood still to be stooped to. Dick didn't. He 
 put on his hat. 
 
 " Will you tell my uncle," he said, " I've failed 
 again ? " 
 
 " Again ? " 
 
 "You don't know? Of course not. Same
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 61 
 
 thing the first try I had — time up and nothing 
 to show — only a hash of odd pieces of rubbish — 
 like this." The paper ball sang through the air 
 to the fireplace, it was so hard. " My uncle said 
 then . . ." Dick checked for a moment, to get 
 right the words of the aphorism. 
 
 " I know," Fay slipped in, with a tang of scorn 
 that kept Dick on the stare as the other demurely 
 supplied the quotation. " ' Any man may fail 
 once, but the man who fails twice ' — was that it ? " 
 
 " . . . ' Will fail always, always.' " Before Dick 
 well knew, the ironic gleam had leaped over to 
 him ; his voice had caught up and carried along 
 the derisive primness of Fay's ; eye to eye, the 
 two live brains heliographed their valuation of a 
 third brain, dead and stuffed with dead sawdust 
 of phrasing. Then cumulous clouds of propriety 
 piled themselves up and put out such lights. 
 
 " No doubt it's true," said the nephew, remember- 
 ing. " I'm off. I'll be back in two weeks, to be 
 sacked in form." 
 
 " Young 'un," Fay recommenced ; but it took 
 mischief to wing words for Fay ; troubled good- 
 will only hobbled them ; he was still merely feel- 
 ing his way to let fly when Dick said a deaf 
 " Good-night," and the door banged behind him.
 
 62 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 Fay ran to it, opened it, called out, " Ah then, 
 come back, you young fool ! " the dismay in the 
 voice hollowed to desolation ; " come back, Dick ! 
 Dick ! " 
 
 But Dick had the best of wax in his ears. 
 Far away down the corridor an outer door 
 slammed virulently. It smote like the famous 
 conclusive bang of the door in the play, and Fay, 
 as he turned, imagined the bite of the sound, the 
 first term of its infinite series of bites at the mind 
 of the husband deservedly left. Luckier he ; his 
 own wife was coming. He had reclaimed Dick's 
 screed from the firelit tiles, smoothed the sheets, 
 looked down them, stowed them away in the 
 pocket you know of, and began for the first time 
 to typewrite away with an affluent, purposeful 
 speed, when the porter came in from the lift. 
 Mrs Fay was here, wishing to see him.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 " Ingenium velox, audacia perdita, sermo 
 Promptus et Isaeo torrentior. Ede, quid ilium 
 Esse putes? Quern vis hominem secum attulit ad nos." 
 
 Juvenal 
 
 ' I N HE man from the lift was no slug ; Mer- 
 ■*■ curies-in-ordinary to these places seldom 
 are. And Fay was no martinet either. But the 
 man was not out of the door, to show in Mrs 
 Fay, when a " Quick as you can, if you please," 
 that propelled like a kick, turned his withdrawal 
 into a flight. Nor did Fay wait to be gnawed, 
 sitting, by the love that feareth all things ; at 
 the first remote swish of a skirt he was up and 
 along the passage ; then back, in a moment, hold- 
 ing his wife by the hand, interrogating her 
 looks with the scrutiny that fears its own satis- 
 faction. 
 
 Mrs Fay, from a little way off, on a windy day, 
 might only have struck you as a working 
 minimum of raison d'etre for so much blown 
 cloak ; nearer, you saw why the cloak was left 
 
 to the enemy ; all the tiny body's war was for 
 
 63 '
 
 64 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 the mastery of a vexed world of red hair ; nearer 
 still, you found among the hair a face dwarfed by 
 it, minute and peering, like a wren's, and yet 
 valiant, and rather pretty, with a prettiness a little 
 blurred by much work about the house and 
 sombre thoughts on the week's bills. The cloak, 
 and the dress it blew away from, were of a 
 roughish cloth, not, you would say, English ; they 
 were too ill-woven and too lovely ; one tear, and 
 the cloak might rip to nothing, like a cut sweater ; 
 but it and the rest had browns, reds and russets 
 not got from autumns or fells you see here ; they 
 were friends with the red of the hair ; it and they, 
 being together, gave and took value ; and then, 
 you might end by thinking the roughness of the 
 stuff right too ; blown about that teased, valiant 
 speck of a face, it figured, you thought, the buffet- 
 ing rudeness of the world that the mind perhaps 
 felt itself wrapped in and beaten by. But that's 
 rank sentiment. On. 
 
 "Is it . . .?" Fay asked and she seemed to 
 know what he meant. People with only one child 
 talk a great deal of shorthand. 
 
 " It is not. It's that newspaper office burnt 
 down on them." 
 
 " Thank God ! I made sure it was Jemmy's
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 65 
 
 bronchitis." Everv muscle he had went slack 
 with relief. 
 
 " No, but the Warder — or Stalwart is it ? " 
 
 " Don't you know it's the Warder you're in 
 at this minnut ? " He said " minnut" Lurking 
 Irish slurs, cadences, idioms of his, popped out of 
 hiding to play with hers. 
 
 " Ah then, and how should I know, and 
 you just as apt to be off to the one as the 
 other ? " 
 
 " An' the Stalwart's destroyed, is it ? That 
 was what took out the engines," Fay mused, 
 with a great peace on his mind, thinking of 
 Jemmy. 
 
 " Mr Pinn telephoned." 
 
 " Did he own was it fire from heaven ? " 
 
 " Colum ! " A hand on his hair tried to steady 
 the child that would fool at its lessons. But a 
 grave twinkle in his eye shone on, dangerously, 
 as she spoke. " Some stove, he said, got too hot ; 
 that began it." 
 
 " Th' one upstairs, where they cook th' reports ? 
 Or below, for the balance sheet ? Wild work they 
 get on with at both of them." 
 
 " It's you're at the wild work, Colum. Listen." 
 
 She knew he had a devil, the imp of Celtic mis- 
 
 5
 
 66 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 chief, one that will keep no close times, for the 
 demoniac's worldly good, as do the less impracti- 
 cable devils of the Teuton. 
 
 " Listen. The man beyond — Pinn — or Brumby 
 — which is it ? " 
 
 " Pinn. Brumby's the fraud in this place." 
 
 " Pinn, then—" 
 
 " Elijah Daniel Pinn." Fay gave himself up to 
 an ecstasy of disrelish ; he strung off the syllables 
 spitefully ; each might have been an emetic, 
 mastered, but only just mastered. 
 
 " Listen now. Mr Pinn said — to you he was 
 speaking, the way he does always." 
 
 " Do you mean, to wan Mr Moloney ? " 
 
 " To you by that name, and I answered him for 
 you, the way you were bidding me. He said — I 
 have it here written," she took from her glove a 
 half sheet of paper. " I've told you the first part. 
 And then he goes on ; — ' By hook or by crook we 
 must 
 
 "Crook, it'll be, then," interposed the spirit of 
 flippancy. 
 
 "•We must get out the paper to-night. I'm 
 just going out to arrange,' I think he said 'by 
 God's help—' " 
 
 " He did." Fav was sure of that, though he cast
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 67 
 
 some doubt, in a sceptical grunt, on the zeal of 
 the auxiliary that Pinn had nominated. 
 
 Mrs Fay read on, from her notes ; — " ' ... ar- 
 range for getting it printed elsewhere. Will you 
 help by writing your — ' " 
 
 " Sh ! " Fay glowered round warily. " In Gath 
 we never mention it." In the matter of motes 
 and beams the spirit of caution is much like any- 
 one else ; Fay could go reckless drunk on the 
 fumes of a whim of his own, and sober again at 
 an unsafe word from another. 
 
 She read lower ; — " ' by writing your leader very 
 early.' " 
 
 " Early ! " Fay looked at his watch. " And 
 it eleven-thirty now ! " 
 
 She read on ; — " ' I will send to your house for 
 it at half-past twelve.' " 
 
 " And I here till one ! A man should think 
 what he's about before burning his office." 
 
 There was rueful silence. "What is it you 
 do?" she asked, breaking it, "other nights?" 
 
 "When they're not burnt, the one or the 
 other?" He told her. The papers had each an 
 idea to act on. The Warder was great on reach- 
 ing the public early ; the dream of the Stalwart 
 was, more, to run up to them bursting with very
 
 68 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 late news. So the Warder was printed at two in 
 the morning, the Stalwart at four. " And so . . . " 
 said Fay. 
 
 The graphic ellipse was wasted on Molly. To 
 her, what he did in the city was, one half, a matter 
 of life and death ; the other half, one of those 
 games at which men, being all dear babies at 
 heart, will be messing, whatever you do. " So ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " So a man can be here, say, from ten till one, 
 
 savin' away at the Empire, and then step across 
 
 to the Stalwart, and save it some more — from the 
 
 Warder and all such perils of the night — from a 
 
 quarter past one until three, and then — " 
 
 " Then ! Is it three there are ? " 
 
 " There are not — yet. Not a thing for our use 
 in the place, only these two kindly fruits of the 
 earth. No ; then the day cometh, when no man 
 can work that's the least bit of use for a press- 
 man." He babbled defensively, putting her off; at 
 the bar of her mind, he could see ; it went hard 
 with his time-table. 
 
 " Colum," she broke out at last, " is it right ? 
 Two days' work every one ; it's no sort of thing to 
 be doing, and you the bad sleeper you are, a good 
 while back."
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 69 
 
 "Well, we'll see in the morning." Word of 
 this auroral vision was Fay's stock means of 
 heading off whatsoever offered to corner him 
 to-day. " Did the man Pinn mention a 
 topic?" 
 
 " ' The subject,' " she read on, " ' of course, must 
 be Albry's speech.' " 
 
 " There's a mor'l order," — Fay touched a bell — 
 " there's a mor'l order in this world of ours ; I 
 can't question it, and I with the fear in my mind 
 all the night there was nothing'd satisfy Pinn but 
 to do the poor out of their beer, to the len'th of 
 a column, — that, or else put a stop to the church 
 or the races or somebody's pleasure, to show that 
 he'd not give the turn of an eye to what Albry'd 
 be doing. If it goes on like this, I'll be coming 
 to Mass like the man that the tree didn't fall on. 
 Parens deoruni cultor et infrequens. Cogor relictos 
 iter are — " 
 
 The messenger came in just as the sublimity of 
 Fay's voice, and the other danger signal that 
 danced in his eyes, were filling his wife with the 
 fear of some headlong cantrip of mischief for 
 mischief's sake. " Will you bring back that leader 
 I sent up just now?" he said. The messenger 
 was off for it. Fay turned again to his wife
 
 70 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " You'll not have heard," he said blandly, " ot Sir 
 Philip Sidney?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, but . . ." 
 
 " You'll see him. You'll see the leal true knight, 
 livin' again in the Warder, rose of our modern 
 chivalry, take from its own lips the cool, refreshin' 
 and invigoratin' leader ; you'll hear it say to the 
 poor, parched, burnin' Stalwart, ' Take it, thy need 
 is greater than mine.' " 
 
 " Is it just the one article, Colum — and they 
 en'mies?" 
 
 "And doesn't that make it the grand Christi- 
 anity ? " 
 
 " But, Colum, the Stalwart's Radical." 
 
 " Ah, but think of their common humanity." 
 
 " Common ? The Warder's that Tory 
 you'd—" 
 
 " ' One touch of Nature,' my dear, ' one touch 
 of Nature.'" 
 
 She hunted for words that might bite on the 
 slippery road of his humour. " But what'd two 
 parties be at, to say the one thing ? " was all she 
 could find. 
 
 "Deed, what else are both for, but to say 
 ' That's a fool there, below,' and, on great days, ' a 
 liar'?"
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 71 
 
 " When they're just tearing, one at the other, 
 I grant you ; but to-night it's a speech that they 
 have all the work with ; and what'd the one say to 
 that but the other'd think bad of it ? " 
 
 " It's a great day when Albry speaks. Was 
 there annything more that Finn said ? " 
 
 "There was; oh, Colum, I'm that sorry, I've 
 forgot it." 
 
 At the little wail of remorse in her voice, his 
 was all cooing and soothing softness. " Ah, 
 then, wasn't it just this? — that Albry must be 
 gettin' des'prate — judgin' by the len'ths he's 
 goin' ? " 
 
 She stared. " Sure, it's almost the words." 
 
 Fay laughed. " Almost ! He's learning variety. 
 Did he say it was ' downright monstrous ' for 
 Albry to ' stand up charged to the muzzle with ' 
 . . . eh?" 
 
 " Colum, you've heard him ! " 
 
 " Often. ' . . . charged to the muzzle with state- 
 ments for the absolute groundlessness of which ' " — 
 Fay's voice swung into a false gallop of banal 
 rhetoric — " ' I can imagine no other excuse than 
 that of an ignorance truly colossal.' " 
 
 She gazed, half grasping that all it meant was 
 that the lines of dead minds, like those of dead
 
 72 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 bodies, are rigid. And now the messenger was 
 back, unrolling a tight cylindrical plug of paper. 
 "Your leader, sir." He gave it to Fay. 
 
 " Had they begun to set it ? " Fay asked rather 
 sharply. 
 
 " No, sir. Only just gone up the tube." From 
 part to part of a newspaper office the written word, 
 done up into cartridges, is blown or sucked along 
 pneumatic pipes which illuminate the principles of 
 air-guns. Fay, the messenger gone, smoothed out 
 the type-written sheets. His wife was to carry 
 them home in her hansom, now waiting, and 
 have them ready for the Stalwart's messenger. 
 " You're uneasy, Molly ? " he said ; he still saw a 
 misgiving. 
 
 " Colum," the dammed-up misgivings broke out 
 again, " it can't be it'll read the right way in the 
 Stalwart, and it written every word for the 
 Warder, and you not changing a tittle." 
 
 " Listen, dear unbeliever. Will you stop me 
 the first word that's wrong ? " With the precious 
 seconds trickling away, he set off to read the 
 leader aloud, slowly, in deprecatory tones. 
 
 " ' With Lord Albry's speech of last night the question 
 of the hour enters on a new phase.' "
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 73 
 
 She demurred. " And so Mr Pinn thinks these 
 great things of Lord Albry's speech ! " 
 
 " As an instance of public depravity ? Surely." 
 Fay pleaded with sweet reasonableness. As he 
 read on, he worked up to a ponderous gusto of 
 delivery, faithfully placing a vapid reader's zestful 
 stress on whatever was most hackneyed in the 
 worn turns of phrase and the trite, switchback 
 curves of the rhythm. 
 
 " ' Is it not time to come back to the facts ? 
 After all, it is they alone that matter. We cannot, 
 indeed, affect to believe that in plainly stating 
 these facts we shall carry with us all of those 
 who have shown such deplorable proneness to blink 
 them.'" 
 
 " There now ! You see how the Liberals catch 
 it ! " she interjected. 
 
 "Liberals?" Fay looked down the sheet with 
 the ironic care of Shylock searching for the 
 mention of a surgeon. " I cannot find it ; 'tis not 
 in the bond." 
 
 " Why isn't it, then, and that meant for the 
 Warder ? " 
 
 "Truth is, I'd the thought in my head that 
 no one would mind if you took it for
 
 74 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 granted, it wasn't himself was the ass." He 
 read on : — 
 
 " ' On their motives, at least on the motives with 
 which they set out, we cast no imputation.'" 
 
 " There's nothing in this world," Fay annotated, 
 " to equal charity, for dressing down the wicked." 
 He continued : 
 
 " ' In the first instance, no doubt, they were moved 
 by a genuine, though curiously misdirected, wish to 
 serve the public. It might even be hard to say at what 
 point they were first assailed by an uneasy sense of 
 having blundered and of having been exposed. We 
 have by us no instrument of moral mensuration with 
 which to define the precise proportions of self-deception 
 and of wilful misrepresentation in the case that they 
 now lay before the public. It has always till now been 
 a rule of English public life that men endeavouring to 
 shape momentous public decisions — ' " 
 
 "This'll be Albry, now, mind you," Fay inter- 
 posed, and went on : — 
 
 " ' . . . should maintain some sort of relation between their 
 public statements or pledges and the actual or potential 
 facts. Is all this to be now changed ? No doubt the 
 conditions of public life have been, in many ways, so 
 much altered . . .'"
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 75 
 
 "In the Stalwart" was Fay's parenthetic note, 
 " that'll do for a wipe at any young blackguards 
 they've broke, for playin' the beast in the Guards, 
 and turned out to do it in Parliament. In the 
 Warder it's one for these Labour members, and 
 others that's nearly as bad, they and their bowler 
 hats, with a black tail coat, destroyin' all before 
 them." He proceeded : — 
 
 " ' . . . so much altered that it might be sanguine to 
 expect conformity to quite the most exacting standards 
 of controversial accuracy, clearness and courtesy. Still, 
 we must warn those who have trespassed so far on 
 public forbearance, that there is a point past which no 
 country will lightly permit those who seek its suffrages 
 to go. That point has been reached, if not passed. 
 Already the offenders' conduct has sensibly lowered the 
 standard of responsibility in English public life, as surely 
 as it has marred the tone of English public discussion. 
 Of that offence the community will undoubtedly take 
 note ; and our people, if slow to judge in cases like this, 
 are also firm in the duty of punishment. We hold the 
 strongest opinion that nothing but early and full repent- 
 ance and amendment can now save the culprits from a 
 lesson that will last them for a generation.' 
 
 There ! " said Fay in a rhadamanthine tone of 
 austerity, in keeping with the text. " End of first 
 paragraph."
 
 76 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 "Ay, but who's to know what all the bother's 
 about ? " objected the lady. You see, she had too 
 much to do in the house to keep up with the 
 progress of style in our daily polemics. 
 
 Fay was impressively shocked at her failure. 
 " Not def'nite, amn't I ? Just hear, now. The 
 second paragraph begins." He read on, incisively : 
 
 "'We are forced to state the point at issue in this 
 somewhat plain and bald fashion — ' You see how 
 def'nite I am ! — ' because there has grown up so notice- 
 able an aversion to the cold touch of realities in the 
 minds of those who know only too well how soon a 
 plain tale would set them down.' " 
 
 He gave her a look, as of apology for an excess 
 of brutal directness. " We're forced, as you see, 
 to be def'nite, we virile Conservative — what's that 
 I'm saying? — we clear-sighted guides of Lib'ral 
 opinion." He recommenced reading, severely : 
 
 " ' In words, like weeds, they wrap them o'er, 
 Like coarsest cloak against the — ' " 
 
 " Colum ! " the tiny woman almost shouted. 
 
 " ' Like coarsest cloak,' " he went on, a little 
 nervously, as though there were something he 
 hoped might blow past, " ' against the cold.' ' 
 
 " Colum, what mad work are you at ? I
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 77 
 
 thought I knew every word that you read ; now 
 that verse reminds me. Why, wasn't it I looked 
 it up in the bookcase, to see was it ' coarsest ' or 
 ' roughest,' and you writing all that leader at 
 home, a good year back ? " 
 
 "The first sentence, is it, I wrote a good year 
 back ? — ' with Lord Albry's speech of last night 
 the question of the hour ' — ' of the hour ' — mind 
 you. Be just now. Warm from the mint, and 
 that's what it is." 
 
 "Ay, but the rest — the whole full of the 
 column ?" 
 
 He shrugged. He was loftily concessive. " In 
 a sense, I'll allow — in a certain limited sense 
 you're entitled to say it was written about all the 
 work that there was last year with the firm that 
 misbuilt the main drain. But be fair. It wasn't 
 printed. Some bad Emp'ror died that night, and 
 had to be kicked in the coffin ; what with that 
 and one thing and another, no soul but the two 
 of us saw it from that day to this. An' now shall 
 the innocent perish, blighted for ever by th' 
 accident that marred its birth? Never. Let 
 bygones be bygones. One aspect, I grant you, 
 one superficial, one technical aspect of the issue 
 has since then been modified. But fundamentally ?
 
 7% A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 No. There's entirely too much made of details 
 in discussin' these broad public questions that go 
 to th' roots of our common nature, when — isn't 
 the gist of the matter the same in each wan — that 
 th' other side hasn't the stim of a pipe for a leg 
 to stand up on ? " 
 
 His accent was always enriched when the elf in 
 him rollicked ; here, when constrained to keep 
 other expression demure, that gnome would take 
 its indemnity. She did not give combat — merely 
 considered the doctrine silently, with a literal 
 mind's bewilderment. He looked at his watch. 
 " Twelve ten, be Zeus ! " 
 
 While he folded the leader for her to take, she 
 came behind him and stroked his hair. " And 
 you'll be staying here, working," she said with a 
 whole motherhood's ache of love and pity in the 
 hang on the last word. His head rose to the 
 stroke like a cat's ; it pressed up to feel the 
 hand's kindness. He spoke lightly, with the 
 pleasure of it on him. 
 
 " I'll just rig up a something for Brumby, 
 now this one's been lost on him — what is it, 
 Molly ? " The soothing hand had stopped 
 dead. 
 
 " What's that you have there ? " she asked,
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 79 
 
 pointing down among the papers on the desk. 
 He was embarrassed. 
 
 " It's it," he owned. Three days ago, descanting 
 one holiday night on the ways of the musical 
 critics he knew in the city, Fay had said that a 
 notice as written by any of them would apply 
 just as well, and no better, to any one concert than 
 to any other ; more — he had spouted, by way of 
 illustration, while she type-wrote it, a typical, 
 universal concert-notice, true of all concerts past, 
 present, and to be, with unprejudiced blanks duly 
 left for the names of any performers whatever. 
 There it was, now, half out from under his 
 blotter. 
 
 " You're using it ? " she asked in horror. She 
 knew he had drifted of late into odd jobs of 
 writing on music. 
 
 " As a concert-notice, seriously ? Oh, no." 
 " Don't ask me," the virtuous voice seemed to say, 
 " to plead to a charge so wild as all that." For 
 the moment she was eased. " That," he went on 
 in the same tone of cheerful vindication, holding 
 the typed stuff up and nodding impressively, 
 " that's all but a picture-notice by now." He 
 paused, to taste the effect, while she dropped into 
 a chair with a remonstrant gesture of cluelessness
 
 80 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 in the maze of his freaks. Again he was sweetly 
 reasonable. 
 
 " Think ! Aren't the arts one, really ? Did 
 you ever see anny but just the wan book of life, 
 and them all at it, tearin' out pages ? " 
 
 " Pooh ! " said his wife. She thought of the 
 hansom, waiting, earning its half-crown per 
 hour. 
 
 " What ! " There remained to him irony, last 
 resource of the thinker in an unthinking world. 
 " I'll engage there's no ars artium either ! No 
 tract of vast truths common to all these strivin', 
 isolated arts ! No greatest common measure, 
 shall I say, of — " 
 
 It was too maddening, with the minutes — each, 
 perhaps, a future pound to the house of Fay, each 
 a present halfpenny, beyond doubt, to the cabman 
 — trickling, ticking, away. 
 
 " Colum," she cried, distressed, " will you quit 
 public speakin' and say what you're at?" 
 
 At the note of distress he came right off his 
 high horse, to be with her, comrade with comrade, 
 all the play put aside. " Listen now, Molly. 
 There's a boy here they've coralled ; the jungle 
 look isn't out of him yet ; if you saw his eyes, the 
 way they're big and shiny with all the good-faith
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 81 
 
 he has ragin' inside him ! On trial he is, at doin' 
 odd jobs, an' to-day he was sent off to see some 
 pics ; an', God help him, the pics went straight to 
 his head, till he saw — th' intoxicated creature saw 
 — just what the men were about that had painted 
 them. Fact is, he's a child " — Mrs Fay, now ab- 
 sorbed, gave an audible purr — " he's not been 
 kicked out of the Kingdom of Heaven — not 
 properly — yet. So in he comes shankin', full 
 from the feast, eyes shinin' " — Fay had not seen, 
 but he knew — "and sits down to typewrite the 
 visions he's had ; good stuff it was too — I've the 
 full of a breast-pocket here — only no decent 
 paper'd be turnin' truth naked out into the streets, 
 while there's sawdust and bran left to pack her 
 away in. He knew it ; the groans he let out of 
 him bet all that ever I heard, till, ' Here's out of 
 it,' he says at last, fit to leap down your throat if 
 you'd stand in the way, and he quitted ; no holdin' 
 him. Done for, that's what he said he was." Fay 
 paused. Compassion tormented her visibly. Fay 
 fed it at intervals. " I've a fear for his post," he 
 would say, and then wait while it worked ; and 
 then again: "Brumby's own nephew — I'd not 
 trust the man but he'd offer to play Roman uncle, 
 he's that wild to be at the posin'."
 
 82 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " Colum," she said at last, shamefacedly, " could 
 you — do anything ? " 
 
 " Did you think — " he deftly transferred the 
 initiative, " did you think any good could be done 
 with that notice of ours — the one of the concert ? 
 Was it starting it fresh, with just the few lines 
 we've the time for, you thought of? And curling 
 a tail to the end of it ? Not a doubt but it might 
 save the post for him." She kissed his hair, 
 grateful for the scheme. "Ah, but you're the 
 wicked woman, to dream of it," he said, delighted. 
 " Will you help me, now ? " 
 
 " Darling ! " She made a gesture of readiness. 
 
 They fell to work, with his watch on the table 
 to keep them hurrying. He gave her the concert 
 notice, a goodish bundle. "Just the one temp'rate 
 judgment on each page," he said. Then he took 
 up the catalogue. " Personalities, so far, eschewed ; 
 but in this I'll engage I'll find someone'll not be 
 the worse for whatever's on each page we come 
 to." She, at the typewriter, was to read out each 
 page ; he, raking the catalogue, was to fit praise or 
 blame with a meet object ; she would then type 
 the chosen name into the blank space awaiting it. 
 They worked, grim and intent, talking low, like 
 hurried and sobered children. She ran through, to
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE S3 
 
 begin with, " some words " as he said, " to step up 
 to the genuine theme, I was just after writing the 
 moment you came." They were : — 
 
 " ' Halland's Fifteenth Winter Exhibition — this time of 
 Mountain Paintings — may fairly be said to be marked, 
 on the whole, by a higher average level of achievement 
 than the corresponding exhibitions of the past few years. 
 Sir Joshua's cardinal precept that Art must " see large " 
 has clearly been taken more closely to heart by the best 
 of our younger men. We may make our meaning more 
 clear if we pass at once to the work of a few of the most 
 salient contributors.' " 
 
 Reaching across to the pile of remaining slips, 
 he took off the top half. " We'll cut the cards 
 first," he said ; " we'll be fair to the creatures, and 
 they not here." He put the top half at the bottom. 
 " Will you deal now ? " 
 
 She read the top page : — 
 
 " ' Mr has a talent — we use the word advisedly — 
 
 to which it is only too easy to do less than justice. He 
 may, as some think, have not yet compassed the whole 
 ascent from the mood of graceful prose to that of serene 
 and elevated poetic feeling. But at least it is something 
 to have the ground clear and unquestionably fertile, for 
 the seeds of future breadth and resolution.' "
 
 84 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 "That'd harm nobody breathin'," said Fay, as 
 she stopped. " Give it to Portland — F. Portland. 
 They say he's sold nothing this twelvemonth." 
 
 " P-o-r-t-l-a-n-d." She dropped the word into 
 its niche, then took up the next page and read : — 
 
 " ' The always sound and competent work of — ' " 
 
 " Ah, then, write in ' Mrs Henleigh '," he inter- 
 rupted, on catching the eulogy ; " if you saw how 
 he's drinkin', that husband she has ! He's goin' 
 beyond the beyonds. But p'rhaps we'll read on 
 first." 
 
 She continued : — 
 
 " ' . . . reminds us that some fairly authoritative 
 judges have perhaps dissociated the work of the older 
 school—' " 
 
 " Eh ? " he had a misgiving. 
 
 " ' . . . from that of their ablest latter-day followers 
 more widely than strict chronology warrants.'" 
 
 Fay was pensive. " There's no doubt it's a 
 delicate thing, that, to say of a lady." 
 
 " And she that irritable ! " Molly added. " Pass 
 a single remark — that she doesn't look well, or no
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 85 
 
 matter what, and God help you. It's a poor thing 
 to be sensitive." 
 
 "Ay, we'll keep on the safe side. 'John 
 Rome,' then. We'll see to her later." 
 
 Mr Rome got his ration. " Ah, but here's the 
 sweet one," she said, taking up the next page. 
 
 " Whethen, make it Mrs Henleigh and have 
 done with it." He eyed the watch anxiously. 
 " Just rush through, d'you think — case of 
 accident ? " 
 
 She gabbled with haste ; commas vanished, full 
 stops shrank to commas ; it all had a pleasing 
 effect on the judgmatical style. 
 
 " ' What shall we say of — Mrs Henleigh ? No 
 one is more thoroughly aware than he that — ' " 
 
 '"She,"' said Fay. "Lucky we looked." 
 His wife made an "h" with a pen, and went 
 on : — 
 
 " ' . . . she that in art it is as fatal to push simplicity to 
 the point of shallowness — we do not say infanticism — 
 as it is to seek to dazzle the public with the insolence 
 of a workmanship which obtrudes its own triumphs 
 over difficulties raised only to be overcome ; everything 
 moreover that this artist does proclaims its authorship. 
 That in itself is much, the only question is whether his 
 — her — work — ' "
 
 86 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 While listening, Fay took out some papers. 
 " 'Scuse me," he said, while she stopped to re- 
 verse the gender. " I'll be sortin' out th' out- 
 ward semblance of a column upon Albry for 
 the Warder, in lieu of what you have on you. 
 It's the good half-hour's work, trimming it 
 down, and the night near through." 
 
 " Darling, of course." While she read on, she 
 knew he was minding, even in the act of seeing 
 to it that the Warder's clarion note should 
 not fail at the dawn. 
 
 " '. . . whether her work does not actually over-repre- 
 sent, if we may use the phrase, her natural powers. 
 Meanwhile h — she has at anyrate the qualities of — 
 her — defects. It is no wonder the French love — 
 her.'" 
 
 "We'll take that out," said Fay, "about the 
 French. You know what Henleigh is." 
 
 She deleted ; then she took up the next page. 
 
 "'. . . has evidently gone to headquarters for her 
 technique.' " 
 
 "'Her' this time?" said Fay, scanning the 
 catalogue. " Say ' Miss Wincot.' Saves so much 
 correcting. Yes ? We'll just see what it is."
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 87 
 
 " ' So far, too, as her work is in any sense individual, 
 it goes to confirm the standing she has already 
 acquired.' " 
 
 " Right. Next." 
 She read : — 
 
 "'We do not envy those who would deny to Mr 
 
 the germ, at anyrate, of force, fire, thought, imagina- 
 tion, or the power to pick his way between the Scylla 
 of a flimsy and pyrotechnic handling of his material 
 and the Charybdis of a sombre and morose elaboration 
 of profundity.' " 
 
 He did not speak at first when she stopped. 
 She looked up. "Old Thomason, d'you think?" 
 he said hesitatingly. 
 
 " It is a nice one," she said longingly ; " but 
 perhaps we'd do right not to give it to him 
 that's our friend." 
 
 " No," he sighed. It was a bitter sacrifice to 
 critical integrity. His voice ran over the 
 catalogue's index of names — " Bence, Bonus, 
 Credland, Curtayne." 
 
 "Curtayne?" She stopped him. "He'll be 
 Irish." 
 
 " Ay is he," said Fay ; " from the County 
 Roscommon. Shall we ? "
 
 88 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 "Yes," she said, with decision, and clicked in 
 the name. 
 
 " Do you think," said Fay, looking again at 
 the watch, "you would look out for Thomason 
 one we could give him in reason, and he none the 
 worse? There's a slating or two, in the bundle 
 you have there, would not hurt a fly, and he'd 
 liefer be slated than have nothing said of him, 
 good, bad, or middling." 
 
 " Will this do ? " she asked, after a scrutiny : — 
 
 "'Mr has, we are aware, been highly praised 
 
 by those who know. But what, we would ask, are the 
 qualities of an artist of the first rank ? Surely dignity, 
 reticence, ordered spontaneity ; nerve in the best sense 
 — the sense of a robust felicity that goes directly, 
 almost brusquely, to the heart of the matter in hand — 
 largeness and simplicity of conception ; a sane and 
 lofty positiveness, as it were, of execution; rigour to 
 discipline the unessential; a plastic power not necessarily 
 carried to sculpturesque extremes of cold and austere 
 
 abstraction ; — but need we go on ? That Mr has 
 
 some, nay, most of these attributes, no one could deny. 
 But has he them all ? ' " 
 
 " Well, since we must slate him," said Fay. 
 She put in the name. "That'll near do us," he 
 said, an anxious eye on the watch. " Perhaps 
 just another,"
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 89 
 
 She read : — 
 
 '"At this concert—'" 
 
 " Concert how are you ? " He came with a 
 full pen and blotted out every letter of the 
 indiscretion. She read out the amended text : — 
 
 " ' In this fairly representative exhibition we are 
 once more reminded, by the personal and vital work 
 
 of Mr , of a speculation that has no doubt occupied 
 
 many besides ourselves. Is it, one asks oneself, a 
 very rule of Nature, after all, that the complete and 
 rounded development of a true artist should invariably 
 exhibit a second, or intermediate period, marked 
 mainly by a buoyant sympathy with outward things, 
 midway between the usual first period, with its delicate 
 finish of execution and versatility of fancy, and the third 
 period, with its masterfully sure and speedy grasp, its 
 intense realisation of one leading aspect of the subject, 
 on the other ? ' " 
 
 " Half the rest might toss for that," said Fay, 
 thoughtfully, thumbing the catalogue over. 
 " Oh, there's Thorold has nothing yet. 
 T-h-o-r-o-l-d." 
 
 She put it in. " I'll gum a tail to it," he said, 
 pocketing the unappropriated residue of valu- 
 ations. She understood and sat ready to type. 
 He dictated, ten or twelve words at a time,
 
 9 o A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 working at the Warder's leader while the 
 typewriter overtook each lead of the voice, but 
 never missing his thread, nor, it would seem, 
 undergoing more mental strain than if he were 
 whistling. 
 
 "'The show as a whole is certainly some degrees 
 richer than such shows often are in the elements of 
 passion and sheer primal force, though cases will occur 
 to everyone in which these qualities verge dangerously 
 on sentimentalism and melodrama. Possibly it also 
 includes fewer of those obvious arrangements of checks 
 and balances which may engage and satisfy the intellect, 
 but leave the heart cold.' " 
 
 He paused for an instant, musing. " You see, 
 what it wants now is a technical tag. Turned on 
 to pics, the best concert notice you'll find in the 
 world is just the least taste general." He sighed. 
 " Fact is — what you need, unless you're a real art 
 critic, is seein' th' actual show. Try this." He 
 dictated again : — 
 
 "Some lack there may be of what we would call 
 architectural power, the faculty of laying out on a great 
 scale ; but against that we must set an unmistakable 
 advance — " 
 
 " They're always getting on, you know," he put
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 91 
 
 in for himself. " Why, what's to stop them ? " He 
 went on : — 
 
 " ' . . . advance in the nice economy of artistic means 
 and in solidity and confidence in the actual use of 
 paint.' " 
 
 He released a breath of relief. " We're over the 
 water. Nothin', only a straight run in, before us 
 now." The dictation flowed out of him : — 
 
 '"We have far from exhausted this show's merits, or, 
 indeed, its defects. But we cannot close without a 
 word in recognition of a certain note of mellow and 
 brooding thoughtfulness, a tender lustre almost Virgilian 
 in its sad sunshine. Many may overlook it, but to our 
 mind it gives a savour of its own to this year's work of 
 some of the men who really count.' " 
 
 " They've a great way, I notice," he said, as she 
 typed the last words, " of nailin' all down with one 
 last slam of gen'rous, int'mate appreciation." 
 
 The session ended in a scramble. Fay pressed 
 a bell, took the sheets from her, initialled the top 
 one, "To show I've run through the boy's work," 
 marked the heading for " Pica," the text " bgs," 
 and gave the whole to the messenger, by this time 
 at his elbow. 
 
 " Has Mr Brumby come in?" Fay asked.
 
 92 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " Comin' upstairs, sir, now." The messenger 
 went. Mrs Fay looked scared. What if he found 
 her here, on her unavowable errand ? 
 
 " He'll be in by this door," said Fay, opening 
 one of the many ; no step sounded near yet. 
 "That's ours," he showed an opposite door. 
 " Players," he rippled on, gay now that the 
 moment was ticklish. " Merely players — ' they 
 have their exits and their entrances.'" He 
 fastened her cloak at the throat, peaceably fitting 
 the hook and eye. " No time to see you into the 
 cab, is it? In the time the horse'd be gettin' a 
 hold of his feet I'll be reachin' down Brumby the 
 fit of the world for the state that he's in after 
 readin' the mountebank, Albry. I have it here 
 now. Never fear but I'll just get along the best 
 way I can. You'll see in the morning." 
 
 He fairly babbled ; for one savoursome moment, 
 when all was in order for going, he still hung on, 
 to taste the sound of Brumby's step in the passage. 
 Such shaves were to him, in his trade, what the 
 risk is to soldiers and hunters in theirs. Scapin, 
 like Cyrano, wants to be helped to that spice, and 
 the mites in the cheese may dimly feel, in hours of 
 insight, that a bloom would be rubbed off life if a 
 knife were sure not to come down at the end of
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 93 
 
 the next inch they bore. Fay bored away in the 
 cheese with a will, having three souls to bore for, 
 and dared the beckon of doom with as much 
 delight as Montrose or a child that is playing Tom 
 Tiddler. The one door's handle was rattling in 
 Brumby's hand as Fay's left the outer knob of the 
 other. He had a shiver of pleasure, his wife one of 
 fear, as they slipped downstairs together.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 ' ' Now, you have what is termed, descriptively, a Recognition when 
 some one or more of the people, whose fate you are meant to see, 
 come to know of a thing they had not known, and fall out with a 
 friend, or make friends with a stranger. And a Recognition tells 
 best at the very turning-point of a story." 
 
 Aristotle, Poetics, chap. xi. 
 
 T3RUMBY came in with a seated joy in his 
 
 -^ face ; some god might look so, after a 
 
 day when the altars had smoked right and 
 
 niggard man had for once made no bones 
 
 about paying up all that he owed of fat and 
 
 myrrh. 
 
 Committees for doing good are poor gadding 
 
 things as a rule. To-night his had kept to the 
 
 point. The chairman, in a plea for imperilled 
 
 Church Training Colleges, had brought all minds 
 
 back to thoughts of the Warder — "a public, I 
 
 may say, a national, institution ; " the Dean, not at 
 
 all the man to say smooth things, had ended by 
 
 flashing one ray of hope across a sombre descant 
 
 on the modern infant's slackening grasp of dogma ; 
 
 all was not lost, he had said, " while such morning 
 
 94
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 95 
 
 and evening stars as the Warder and Evening 
 Warder fought in their courses for the cause o{ 
 God." Poetry, and good at that, Brumby had 
 mused, scanning the last words in his beatitude 
 while they were fresh : " fought in their courses for 
 the cause of God " ; good as Milton, by George 
 Brumby was still seeing new beauty in metre 
 when the High Sheriff moved to condole with the 
 late Bishop's widow — a speech like a soldier's 
 funeral, all dead march and irreparable loss till 
 halfway through, and then an "Adlcetiora vertamur" 
 and back at the quickstep of " Nobody's indispens- 
 able," bracing all hearts with a sense of good fish 
 left in the sea, and loaves on shore, and competent 
 fishers of men, the Sheriff ran on, a little confusedly, 
 to fish the dioceses of our Galilee ; ay, and 
 spiritually-minded laymen. Someone, he thought, 
 had mentioned a great, he said advisedly, a great 
 journal known to them all ; the Warder, they all 
 knew, was Mr Brumby, and Mr Brumby the 
 Warder ; and character, individuality in the best 
 sense, was everything, everywhere, and as for thy 
 sting, O death, it was nowhere, absolutely nowhere ; 
 the Bishop, in short, was in Heaven and all was 
 well with the world. 
 
 So had Brumby felt too, as he walked back
 
 96 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 under the stars, with man's benediction, to say the 
 very least, upon him. Evil itself at such times is 
 a problem resolved ; faith need no longer be 
 shaken by phenomena like Finn ; for, as life could 
 not be had but on terms of death, so evil must 
 come that good might be ; to beat out perfection 
 the hammer of right must fall on an anvil of 
 wrong ; in the world there was room and work 
 even for those who should only serve, by the foul- 
 ness of their darkened minds, to call out the 
 strength of the children of light ; why, if that 
 barren fig-tree had not been there to be cursed, 
 men might never have heard of the faith that 
 removes mountains. How little there was, after 
 all, to blue-pencil in all things created. Little ? 
 Nothing. Brumby, to-night, could initial the 
 universe. 
 
 From the starry fane of a deserving Creator, 
 Brumby passed into the hand - made temple 
 dedicated to himself. Good outside, it was better 
 still to be here. Round him all the hive buzzed 
 and hummed, as he dropped into his chair, 
 luxuriating ; in the cellar the big machines were 
 fidgetting for the start, their signal bells, tinkling 
 now and again, might have been on the ears of 
 impatient horses ; the murmur from the readers'
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 97 
 
 room had gained speed, while keeping its quality 
 of carefulness, as a good crew will quicken the 
 stroke up to anything asked, and still, within each 
 beat of the boat's speeded pulse, keep, contained 
 and unhurried, one fractional movement of 
 rythmical leisure ; the messengers, who had 
 walked, now ran ; every limb of the huge thing, 
 as of one horse, had gathered pace together, in a 
 consummate unity, the unity of being he; yes, the 
 Sheriff was right — it was all an expression of him, 
 an extension of him, a flowering forth of his 
 strength, his rich nature, his sense as a man of the 
 world, his warmth as good fellow ; if something 
 could come at that moment to try him, he'd let 
 people know. Like a man as yet only the better 
 for liquor, he basked in the warm, shining reverie. 
 If only something would come ! And it did. 
 Fat as the right man turns up in a play, there 
 came up the lift the card of " Mr Elijah D. 
 Pinn." 
 
 " Gentleman wishes to see you, sir," said the 
 porter, thrilled. He knew who was who, did the 
 porter. 
 
 Brumby leapt straight out of reverie into gifted 
 action. The porter was ordered to put Mr Pinn 
 in the library, leave him exactly five minutes, and
 
 98 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 then show him in. That much cooling of heels 
 would be good for the man ; more would be rude. 
 And one wants just to give a look round, and have 
 things as they should be, before speaking with an 
 enemy in the gate. Brumby tidied the gate. He 
 put on the table four letters he had for the post, 
 with the one to a peer on top ; he whipped out of 
 sight the memoir, in proof, of a Halland big-wig 
 whom Pinn, with luck, might not know to be dying. 
 He lit a cigar, to put down when Pinn should 
 come in ; he did not know Pinn, but the bloodless 
 stick — Brumby's heart told him — was sure not to 
 smoke, and the smell would make him feel out 
 of it. 
 
 Three of the five minutes fleeted by in these 
 hospitable cares ; it was time to take ground 
 on the hearthrug, securely based on the 
 fire ; the adversary was to have his face raked 
 by the big hanging light — Brumby thoughtfully 
 fixed the site of the chair he would offer ; 
 then, on a knock at the door, he leapt back 
 to his base. No ! only Fay, to report on his 
 vicegerency. 
 
 " Come in, my dear fellow, come in." Brumby's 
 geniality was exuberant, above itself. Had Dick's 
 notice gone upstairs ?
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 99 
 
 " You'll see a proof in ten minutes," said Fay ; 
 did no higher interest forbid, he seldom grudged 
 truth the homage of equivocation. 
 
 " He'll do yet, that boy," said the uncle. " Not 
 too individual, I hope ? These young critics are so 
 very individual sometimes." 
 
 " I don't think you'll find it excessively so. But 
 you'll see," said Fay, moderately. 
 
 " Good. Your leader up, too ? " 
 
 " Not all of it — sorry to say." Not a word 
 was up really ; but why put things crudely ? 
 " Ten minutes more'll do me. I'll be off and 
 end up in my room. Shall I look in, last 
 thing ? " 
 
 " Do, my dear fellow. Don't let me keep 
 you." 
 
 Fay went, with his typewriter. At one point in 
 the corridor there was nothing between him and 
 Pinn but three feet of air and the opacity of a pane 
 of corrugated glass. Another two minutes, and 
 almost half of the Warder's new leader was blown 
 up the tube, to be set, and Brumby was taking a 
 first look at Pinn. 
 
 Brumby had dreamt of such a man. Con- 
 servatives have. Pinn was a Tory nightmare 
 come true ; in a made-up tale, you would say he
 
 ioo A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 was too purely a type to be an individual — that, 
 except in thought, there could be no one lean man 
 so juiceless, so literal, so bitten with an itch for 
 posting, eyes front, across wastes of sand and 
 thorns to Gileads that he could not see and that 
 he would not really like. There have always been 
 Pinns, or at least approaches to Pinns, attempts 
 at being Pinn ; " Forty years endured I their 
 manners in the wilderness ; " — you see the rudi- 
 mentary Pinns of Israel, round the camp-fire of a 
 night, grumbling at manna and quails, hating the 
 man who laughs, who sleeps easy, who sings a 
 good song, when we ought to be getting on, on, as 
 we should be, too, if Moses were straight. Ours, 
 the ultimate Pinn, Nature's finished piece of the 
 kind, was all for reform, of course, but as one 
 whom reform could never leave musing at last, in 
 a world put to rights, " Behold, it is good ; " when 
 he talked retrenchment, it sounded so hollow, you 
 could not tell why till you tried to figure him 
 spending a coin, with the joy of a boy, on any 
 known product of earth ; he cried, " Peace, Peace," 
 and to every man quiet under his fig-tree, and 
 you looked and thought, " What a man to sit 
 with, under a fig-tree ! " and you felt that 
 peace hath her horrors no less to be dreaded
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 101 
 
 than war's. All life, for him, was a taking of 
 means to ends ; means that to him had no 
 worth but as ways to their ends ; ends that were 
 nothing but termini for means, means he could not 
 smell as flowers, to ends he could not taste as 
 fruit. Imagine his coming distress in Paradise, 
 the fretting of the irrigator out of work, called 
 from the Saharas of his choice to wander through 
 Elysian fields watered with honeyed dews. And 
 yet — if he gets there first you may find a pure-air 
 movement humming in the largior aether, and 
 Finn, torn to pieces with work, three meetings a 
 day, reforming sourly the housing of the saints. 
 
 Brumby had thought that he knew all this. 
 The stock Tory does know it. Heir to the 
 Cavalier's spites, he knows how to debit the stock 
 Radical with all his Roundhead father's indis- 
 position for joy. But to see Pinn in the flesh — the 
 little flesh that he had — was for Brumby to know 
 what knowing meant. All very well — it seemed 
 now — to have let fly, blind, at the hosts of Gath ; 
 here was another affair, the very sight of his own 
 arrow billeted, plump and fairly, in the carcase 
 of a standard Philistine. All the strained, cold 
 lines bitten into Pinn's face by the taking of 
 corrosive thought swore to the rightness of that
 
 102 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 picture drawn at a venture ; loveless philanthropy 
 glowered out of the exacting servant of man- 
 kind ; the thistle seemed only the more of a 
 thistle for striving to bear the grapes for which 
 it was not designed. No one more bitterly set 
 on doing " the masses " good ; no one more unim- 
 aginable smoking a pipe on a bench in the sun for a 
 talk, for talk's sake, with a basking tramp, or to see 
 the lusty black babies roll in the grass. Brumby's 
 flesh crawled like a horse's at smelling a camel. 
 
 To Brumby the abstract was naught, mere prin- 
 ciples dross, a major premise the crackling of 
 thorns. Right intuitive action — that was the 
 thing ; good-natured impulse more than morality ; 
 not the Commandments — their letter, I mean ; 
 that killeth ; rather, a gentleman's perception, 
 the free spirit which — in a sense, quite rightly — 
 they sought to pin down into forms. Politics, 
 no more than conduct, was the mass of prude's 
 syllogisms that the Pinns of this world would 
 make them ; better keep them simply branches 
 of the art of extemporising, ever and ever, o'er 
 and o'er, from the wealth of your own nature, 
 earth's noblest spectacles, a " decent human 
 being," and a "sensible man of the world." 
 Shame on the pettifogger who fussed about
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 103 
 
 " rights " of his own or anyone else's, or let his 
 spirit take cold with hanging about, looking 
 before and after, when " problems " arose. Pro- 
 blems ! — as if there were any, while you play the 
 man, as he might fairly say he had done — for 
 recollection was a gallery of portraits — Alex- 
 ander, Brennus, Nelson, all of them himself, 
 cutting Gordian knots, throwing swords into 
 scales, standing with telescopes to blind eyes, 
 improvised ones if need be, doing every prodigy 
 of gumption that ever struck clayey souls all of 
 a heap. And beyond the still, strong men, the 
 risers to crises, the hitters of nails on their heads, 
 there was the happy virilist in his hours of ease, 
 genial as summer ; not perfect — who is ? — not a 
 bad fellow, though, after all. See the mellowed, 
 jocund English look ; it took you to yellowing 
 Gloucester orchards and jolly brown faces in the 
 brown corn. 
 
 A virtue, they say — courage or liberality — 
 should not be used up in the mere act of stand- 
 ing fire or giving away ; it should work in us 
 always, warming us, lighting us up. Brumby's 
 love for the one dear image was of that quality ; 
 no time but he felt the better for it ; no day 
 could choke with its petty dust a soul so regu-
 
 104 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 larly flushed out with a full, flooding sense ot 
 itself in all its own easy riches, its rollicking in- 
 vincibility, dominating circumstance. As he 
 stood ravished before that picture, nay, almost 
 knelt, as it were in an oratory, the ideal re- 
 affirmed its claims ; yes, by George, to his 
 own self he would be true ; or, rather, from 
 strength to strength go on ; like a boy in bed 
 at night, who will make that great drive 
 to the on again to-morrow, just the same, 
 only harder, so would he bend up every fibre 
 of him to exist as he was, but intensified, re- 
 doubled. 
 
 We are told that if love must first fill a pool, 
 it will hardly water the ground ; his to-night was 
 so great, it brimmed over ; it sought things to 
 be good to ; it would not stick at vermin, even ; 
 let them lap. So the meeting was, on his side, 
 cordial ; civil, of course, it had to be ; to the 
 outer world it would be a call of cat upon dog ; 
 the mere thought of that put biting and scratching 
 out of the question. Sapless Cassius and juicy 
 humanist had to pretend to a certain community 
 of flesh and blood. But Brumby, in his glory, 
 paid no bare dues. Benignly he shook hands ; 
 benignly he planted Pinn in the armchair ; be-
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 105 
 
 nignly, after the first salutation, he looked down 
 from his six feet of height to hear what sounds 
 this scorpion would make who, like us, was God's 
 creature. 
 
 " You have every right," said Pinn, " to feel 
 surprised." 
 
 Oh, no ! Brumby courteously renounced the 
 privilege. He was charmed, only. 
 
 " I mean, we've not met, I think, ever," said 
 Pinn, feeling his way towards business. 
 
 "Well, no." Brumby was lifted above earth, 
 but not quite so high that the tone of this could 
 be purely benignant. Met, indeed ! Was any- 
 one likely to meet this charmless, cantankerous 
 prude, with his beard like the sum of a series of 
 hairy moles, among Brumby's friends, five-meal, 
 meat-fed, tweed-clad men with red necks and 
 neat white moustaches, whose place, you could 
 see at a glance, was the cover side, men who 
 warmed both hands at the fire of life, rode and 
 shot straight, and talked — well, as men that arc 
 men do talk in their hours of ease, and felt that 
 woman would lose her poetry should she ape 
 man and take to affairs. 
 
 " Except in print," Pinn fumbled about for an 
 opening, "and there — " he paused, but was not
 
 106 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 helped out. It is easy waiting on a hearthrug. 
 So Pinn gave it up, cast back, and made a fresh 
 start, abruptly, with a grim plainness, " Mr Brumby, 
 you hit pretty hard." 
 
 " You. The Warder It's the same thing." 
 
 "You feel that?" said Brumby, softly; it 
 pleased him so. 
 
 "Who should, if not I?" 
 
 " Oh, we don't take things so hard as that," 
 Brumby purred. It was good to see Pinn rub his 
 wounds. 
 
 " What was it yesterday ? " Pinn half-solilo- 
 quised, hugging the shaft that stuck in him, 
 " ' a compost of maudlin sentiment and gabbling 
 abuse.' " 
 
 Brumby listened, leaning out over the bar of 
 heaven. " War's war, you know," he mur- 
 mured sweetly. What a wrist that beggar, 
 Fay, had ! What a God's mercy to have 
 him ! 
 
 Pinn had not done. " Yesterday — ' Pragmati- 
 cal pedants complicated with a touch of the 
 poltroon.'" 
 
 "War, you know, war." Who is the happy 
 warrior if not he to whom it is given to see his
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 107 
 
 own soft-nosed bullet meet the bone, expand and 
 shatter and lacerate ? 
 
 " Last week — ' sophists labouring to plunge others 
 in their own moral slough.' " 
 
 " War, my dear sir. Can't do it in kid gloves, 
 you know." The target had done so well, 
 in its station in life, that the good-natured 
 marksman would tell it the right way to 
 shoot. 
 
 That was a little too much. " Oh, yes, I know," 
 said Finn, sombrely dispensing with tuition in 
 his trade ; " I don't dispute the power of the 
 writing. The world allows you brilliancy." 
 Brilliancy might have been harlotry's diamonds, 
 the note was so acrid. " Still — why make any 
 bones about it ? — it is I that am struck — by 
 you." 
 
 You know how experts spit ; the words were 
 emitted with that jet, that patness. The last 
 went at Brumby's face with a momentum that 
 startled him out of a complacent reverie on 
 his choice of Fay. " Me ! " he said, still half 
 absent. 
 
 " Is it not you ? " The pace at which this dis- 
 charge left the muzzle, the way each word was 
 its own bullet self, and yet all, like a good charge
 
 108 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 of pellets, kept together in the air, were the last 
 word in the technics of expectoration. 
 
 Brumby spoke with the quiet, kindly dignity 
 granted by Nature to the holder of the upper 
 hand. " I admit, the pen may be mine ; I don't 
 say it isn't ; but remember I'm only a man, as you 
 are ; only a — well, I hate talking about these 
 things, but a — tool in the hand of something else, 
 something rather bigger than I." It was pretty 
 to hear the strong man, modest even about being 
 modest, playfully make light of his humility. 
 " Now don't you see ? It's a cause that writes ; 
 not I ; a cause." 
 
 "Through you, at me." Suppliant though he 
 was, Pinn would stand in at no debauches of 
 flummery. He had not the time. Setting as 
 much of his face as was not hard set already, he 
 went at the big jump. "Through you, at me. 
 Well, I've come to say ' I'm in your power ; here's 
 the " sophist " ; you've got him ; stop the " pedant " 
 — you can if you wish ; it's for you to say whether 
 the " compost " shall come out to-morrow, or, pos- 
 sibly, never come out again.' The Stalwart was 
 burned out an hour ago." 
 
 At each fresh snort that he gave, as he quoted 
 the other's picked gems of ribaldry, Pinn felt he
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 109 
 
 had blasted his own mission anew. He did not 
 care, now. He was past caring. It had been a 
 clear duty to come ; a syllogism had ordered it. 
 Major premise ; he was morally bound to leave 
 nothing undone to save the public the calamity 
 of a blank, Stalwart-less dawn. Minor premise ; 
 the Warder alone, in all Halland or anywhere 
 near, had the plant left to bring out the Stalwart 
 to-night. Conclusion ; he had to ask Brumby to 
 do it. But the fury of mortification in Pinn had 
 taken a savage satisfaction in bating no jot of 
 acidity ; Brumby should have the case put to 
 him stark and bald — no grovelling or wheedling. 
 So we rough-hew our ends, and the divinity 
 shaping them had so played on Brumby to- 
 night that no other tone could have answered 
 so well. Tuned right up to the heroic pitch, 
 all he could wish was that chivalry's demands 
 on him should be handsome ; the harder the 
 thing he was asked to do, the better ; the 
 less grace in the asking, the finer the rapture 
 in giving. 
 
 Still, he was, as he had said, but a man ; and 
 this was the first he had heard of the fire. The 
 news was tremendous ; the mind needed a 
 moment to bite on it, When first Hamlet heard
 
 no A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 of the ghost, he paid out idle little queries to 
 keep his informants in play, held off at arm's 
 length, till he grasped the new state of things in 
 its hugeness. So too, Brumby. 
 
 " You can't print ? " he asked, knowing quite 
 well. 
 
 " The plant's a scrap-heap, red-hot." 
 
 " Well ? " said Brumby, mechanically. " Well ? " 
 He knew what must come ; he was not racking 
 Pinn from ill-will ; he was only taking a 
 hold. 
 
 "Well, it's my duty to ask, will you print 
 us to-night, here?" The tooth was out, any- 
 how, now — so Pinn felt as he ended ; the hog 
 would refuse, and this hell would be done 
 with. 
 
 "Ah!" said Brumby, slowly. He had a hold 
 now ; he saw the way ; only, he must have time ; 
 first, to set in a right light, in both their minds, 
 the metal he was made of, metal now to come 
 out ; then, too, to do justice to a certain quick 
 new impulse born of his nice sense of form in 
 the bearing of man to man ; for in saying those 
 last words Pinn had mystically changed ; he had 
 begged ; however ill-done, it was begging ; knight- 
 liness, carried far, might deliver him out of the
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE in 
 
 fire, to be spitted, in due time, on the knightly 
 deliverer's sword, these being the duties in life 
 to which each was called ; still, Pinn had begged ; 
 caste was gone from him ; Brumby's instinct for 
 manner had built in an instant a lobby of silence, 
 of expectation, for beggars to wait in ; if only ten 
 seconds. 
 
 Pinn fidgeted in it. " Of course there is no 
 mechanical difficulty." He only said it because 
 to say nothing was like sitting down in the hall, 
 with his hat on the floor, while his prayer was 
 looked through in the parlour. 
 
 " I'm not so sure," said Brumby, remote and 
 occupied. " Still," he went on, as if communing 
 with someone apart, on the waiting suppliant's 
 fate, "we'll waive that. In itself it would not 
 be fatal." 
 
 " I know, I know," said Pinn, in his torment, 
 struggling again to the parlour-door that closed 
 in his face ; " it's the moral effort. I know." 
 He rose. There was no sitting down under 
 this. 
 
 He was pointed back to his chair. " Please," 
 Brumby said. But the long wait was over ; on 
 Brumby's face the glory of a noble climax was 
 now coming up like a dawn.
 
 ii2 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " Mr Pinn, I'm a very plain man, and I'll say 
 to you plainly, you do ask much ; and you're 
 right — no one knows how much better than you, 
 for you know what you've written — may I say 
 what you've personally written ? " Pinn nodded 
 darkly — a statue of stern veracity swearing to 
 its own hurt. Brumby bowed — " What you've per- 
 sonally written now for many years, particularly ' 
 — a spasm of wrathful recollection shook Brumby 
 and was gone — "in the last few years. Well, 
 you say it rests with me whether that sort of 
 thing shall go on or stop — for a day, perhaps 
 altogether. My answer is this : I wouldn't lift a 
 hand, I wouldn't stir an inch, to save your 
 paper if" — he really could not forego a second's 
 pause. Why have such moments at all if you 
 are not to taste them ? 
 
 Pinn rose, tragic. " I have done my duty," he 
 said ; it was thus, always, he said he had 
 failed. 
 
 But Brumby's moral grandeur was striding on 
 over the break. " — if you hadn't come like this 
 and put it to me straight that I had got this 
 fist home on you and that you felt the weight 
 of it." And thereat Brumby presented the fist 
 to Pinn ; first clenched for purposes of recognition
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 113 
 
 then opened, cordially. " Sir," he said in a trans- 
 port of appreciation of the way the thing was 
 coming off, "you're a cursed Puritan, but you're 
 a man. We'll print you to the — well, the last 
 drop of our ink." He laughed, happy in his part, 
 happy in his wit, happy in the generosity with 
 which it abated for Finn the emotional strain of 
 a crushing obligation. To the salvaged Pinn, 
 Finn that had been dead, now rebegotten by 
 him, his tone was almost a father's. Pinn must 
 just be off and make his arrangements. Or, 
 better still, make them from there, by telephone ; 
 at the Stalwart, it seemed, there was some 
 detached piece of the office unburnt, where 
 the staff were now huddled. Brumby showed 
 Pinn the instrument, fixed to the open wall 
 of the room, and himself, sitting down, wrote 
 a circular note to the heads of his own 
 departments to warn them what was to come. 
 The feel of the many reins in one hand 
 was so good that he half forgot Pinn's own 
 presence till a prefatory clearing of the throat 
 reannounced it. 
 
 Pinn was fidgeting before the telephone. He 
 ran g> gave the number he wanted, and then, 
 while waiting, he turned. " Mr Brumby," he said,
 
 ii4 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 with straining unconcern, " I am about to tele- 
 phone an order . . ." 
 
 " One ? " Brumby roared. " Is that all ? " 
 
 "—an order I wish you to hear." This was 
 not just a fib ; Pinn's first dismay at sight of the 
 open telephone not ten feet from Brumby's ear 
 had really sunk into a sombre acquiescence in 
 unavoidable evil which was fairly confusible with 
 the faintly optative mood of gloom that he 
 called wishing. The bell rang. Was that the 
 Stalwart, Pinn asked, and then he said, " Wait ! " 
 It was clearly the Stalwart; the tone was the 
 one to use where you know you can say to one 
 man, " Come," and he cometh ; to another man, 
 " Go," and he goeth ; to a third man, " Stand and 
 wait," and he, also, serveth. Pinn turned again. 
 " Let me make myself clear. I have a habit — 
 perhaps you would call it a hobby — God knows, 
 it may be a foible — of thinking it a duty, a 
 peremptory duty to speak with my own voice in 
 my own paper." 
 
 Brumby smiled. " If you're wrong to think 
 that, I fear / can't afford to throw the first 
 stone." 
 
 "Ah? We are at one, then, there at 
 any rate. We give our best ; we give our-
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 115 
 
 selves. What it costs — but there — you 
 know." 
 
 "It takes a man, certainly," Brumby was 
 modestly forced to own. 
 
 " Hardest of all, for men of that fibre, when 
 forced away for an instant from the post of duty, 
 to see their work botched, ruined perhaps, by 
 some weak or stupid substitute — it may be at 
 some supreme, critical moment." He opened his 
 hands, melancholy ; a sense of loss, loss to the 
 individual, loss to the race, filled him. But the 
 bell rang again ; Pinn got to business. His staff 
 were at once to migrate, bearing with them all 
 the rescued " copy," to the Warder. Brumby 
 listened happily. The benevolent familiarity of a 
 conscious saviour spared him misgivings about 
 Finn's privacy. And then Pinn, half turning, 
 gave him a look and " This," the look said, " is 
 what you're to take the right way," and the 
 next words into the telephone were, " Has Mr 
 Moloney's leader come in ? " 
 
 "Moloney? Never heard of him," Brumby 
 mused. 
 
 " Yes," Pinn was saying at the telephone, " a 
 messenger was to bring it from Mr Moloney's 
 house. Yes. Ring me up again in three minutes
 
 n6 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 and let me know. Yes. The Warder Office. 
 Yes." 
 
 Pinn left the machine. " Moloney ? I don't 
 seem to know your man's name," said Brumby, 
 lightly, just to make talk, as these Titans of 
 energy do when a spate of work is upon them. 
 
 " You scarcely would," Pinn said. " The man 
 is hardly a journalist of moment, in any sense." 
 
 Pinn should not have looked so unconcerned. 
 Unconcern, on his face, caught the eye, it seemed 
 so far out of its place. Brumby stared. Curiosity 
 rose in him. "Was it," he said, a fierce gleam 
 coming into his eyes, "was it — you don't mind 
 my asking?" 
 
 " Not at all," said Pinn, much though he did. 
 
 " Was it this man Moloney that wrote your 
 leader on Monday ? " 
 
 " Monday — let me see." Memory feigned a sort 
 of head-scratching. Some questions one puts off 
 answering, as one puts off paying bills, without 
 real hope of escaping at last. 
 
 Brumby could not be put off. A sore place 
 was itching. " I mean," he went on, with a 
 gathering rage of irony, " the nice, kind, Christian, 
 gentlemanly thing about us — us Jingoes, is that 
 the word ? — ' sowing the fair domains of peace
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 117 
 
 with dragons' teeth.' Hauling the Bible in, that 
 way ! And what's this he called the reverence 
 some of us venture to have for our country's 
 past ? ' Chinese torpor,' was it ? Why ' Chinese,' 
 I wonder ? And ' torpor ' ! Torpor ! I suppose 
 it's some new kind of English. Mr Pinn, now 
 that I've seen you, I do you the justice to feel 
 dead-sure that wasn't written by you." Pinn's 
 silence accepted acquittal. " So that's Moloney ? " 
 Brumby nodded his head up and down, contract- 
 ing the nostrils as if to keep out a smell. 
 
 " Mind," said Pinn, weighing the words out, in 
 scrupulous fairness to all, " I don't say the man 
 writes well — as far as mere form goes." 
 
 " Well, no," said Brumby, much as a creditor 
 takes, on account, a first penny in the pound. 
 
 Pinn had to go on paying. " — nor, perhaps, 
 that his is a genial nature." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " Only another farthing ! 
 
 No more came, though. Pinn's imperious 
 conscience now informed him that only the 
 extremities of an underling's person may be 
 lawfully thrown to the wolves. " Still, I will say " 
 — his tall upper lip came down like a drop curtain 
 — " that that man has a stern, an almost sombre 
 rigour of conviction — " The other groaned. Of
 
 n8 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 what fiend of the nether pit could this black 
 zealot speak so ? " — reminding me often," Pinn 
 ground on, "of the granite, the native English 
 granite of a Cromwell." He was growing ex- 
 cited. The granite metaphor, got from an old 
 speech of Bright's, was one of the three or four 
 figures of speech that had ever gone to Pinn's 
 head ; it's use always made him a little unsteady. 
 
 Another groan ; Brumby would just like to see 
 the beast ; at least, so he thought, as one thinks 
 one would not mind a look at the Gorgon. 
 " Well ! " with a strain he stomached his just 
 repugnance. " So long as you don't put him on 
 very often — " 
 
 " Often ? My dear sir, one does one's own 
 work," Pinn said austerely. 
 
 "And what man wouldn't?" Brumby replied 
 with an answering dignity. So deep calleth unto 
 deep. That instant their souls stood together ; 
 the next, the unresting messenger came in again 
 and laid down some sheets of paper. He had 
 a good voice, well produced, that messenger. 
 When he said, " Mr Fay's leader, sir," nothing 
 was lost. 
 
 Pinn, in the ebb of his fortunes, was not in case 
 precisely to whistle ; still, the breath, checked by
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 119 
 
 the words of the messenger, had to escape ; it 
 made almost an " Ah ! " Then Brumby, the old 
 early riser to crises, rose. One basilisk glance at 
 the boy was all that he yielded to weakness. It 
 was gone and then he was one who has just 
 brought off the pretty surprise he had, long ago, 
 secretly rigged for a friend. 
 
 " See that ! " He merrily brandished Fay's work 
 under the nose of Moloney's employer. " Now, 
 don't ever fancy again you're the only man in the 
 world who knows only too well that to get a 
 thing done as you want you must do it yourself. 
 Not" — the sportsman in him loyally added — "but 
 Fay has his points, poor chap. If I must be off 
 duty, some two or three nights, or whatever it is, 
 in the month, I daresay I might do worse than let 
 him have a shot at the thing — " 
 
 " I see," said Pinn. He was wishing he did. 
 Could it be this Fay, this hired stabber in the 
 dark, that—? 
 
 Brumby's frankness was tempering any excess 
 in previous eulogy. " I do admit he's a bit of a 
 hitter when his blood's up ; like the dervishes, 
 you know — a bit fanatical ; he's apt to feel the 
 things he writes ; that's what it is ; gets carried 
 away."
 
 120 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " I see," said Pinn again, grimly. 
 
 And, the next moment, he did. For Brumby, 
 with a sudden recurrence of joviality, poked at his 
 thorax. " ' Pedant ' — eh ? • Sophist ' — eh ? ' Com- 
 post,' was it? Ha ! Ha!" In the one breath the 
 sane man of the world playfully chid Pinn's 
 sensitiveness under fire, and disowned, so far as 
 honour allowed, Fay's too pitiless heats of Tory 
 conviction. " Come now," the mellower spirit 
 seemed to say to the two crude extremes, " laugh 
 and shake hands." But no hand-shaking for Pinn. 
 Pinn shake hands with evil ! Not he. " Was 
 that his work?" he growled, with his neck hairs 
 bristling. 
 
 Brumby nodded pleasantly, deprecating grudges. 
 " Mind you," he said, " a good chap in his way." 
 A grunt came from Pinn. " But he's earnest 
 — that's it ; it's that overdone craze about 
 ' principle.' " Pinn glared. Nice ghostly con- 
 solation, this, for an outraged person of principle. 
 " No, I'm not crying down principle, either," 
 Brumby ambled along, with liberal concessiveness, 
 feeling his balm had not wholly soothed ; " I 
 always say it's a perfectly justifiable thing in its 
 place ; if in other respects a man is a gentleman, 
 principle won't lead him very far wrong. Take
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 121 
 
 my word for it. Only, poor Fay, you see — " 
 Again the generous fellow checked ; why do 
 more than just touch, as little as candour allowed, 
 on the poor man's want of breeding ? After 
 all, we are all of us victims of circumstance. 
 " Well," he broke off, " now we both know where 
 we stand." He came nearer ; something led him 
 again to hold out his hand. Pinn took it. They 
 met on the heights, for a moment the two tall 
 spirits looked level into each other's eyes, the 
 shade of the one blent with the glow of the 
 other. Then the bell rang on the wall. It was 
 over ; they stepped down again, into our lower 
 life. 
 
 Ten seconds more, and Pinn, at the telephone, 
 poured out orders of all kinds ; he spoke low 
 and fast, with his face to the wall, the whole 
 man gummed to his work — mind, eyes, ears ; 
 nothing but it existed, for him ; at least, nothing 
 mattered ; he heard, as a thing alien and in- 
 different, a knock at an opposite door, and 
 entering steps ; even Brumby's loud " Oh, it's 
 you, Fay ? Through ? " seemed unmomentous, 
 though he did hear it as he turned, his tele- 
 phoning done, still thinking — had he sent all the 
 orders necessary ? Yes. Then he looked round.
 
 122 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " Moloney ! You here ! " 
 
 Brumby stared wildly. " Moloney ? " 
 
 Pinn's eyes hunted round the room. No, there 
 
 were only the three of them there. He stared 
 
 back as wildly at Brumby. " Fay ? "
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 " Ex illo fluere et retro sublapsa referri 
 Spes Danaum, fractce vires, . . . 
 
 Vergil, sEneid, ii. 169 
 
 INHERE are things not to be put on the stage ; 
 ■*- a lady killing her infants, a king putting 
 out his own eyes — better take them as seen ; one 
 yell, if you will, from a child " off," to keep your 
 fancy at work, one waft of sound from where 
 CEdipus damns and blasts in the wings as he rams 
 in the pin ; but no more ; blood is fine, but it pays 
 to go straight to the more delectable mess that 
 is made of the souls of the principals. No dis- 
 respect to suppers of horrors ; only, of two, hold 
 out for the squarer. 
 
 So be it unsaid here how it looked, how it 
 
 sounded, when Finn and Brumby found tongue 
 
 and took turns to give Fay gigantic pieces of 
 
 their minds. Indeed to try were of no use ; who 
 
 shall paint the sun, full face, at noon ? The 
 
 radiant heat and light of their joint and several 
 
 rages had that ardour ; they beat down on the 
 
 wicked ; like a worm that has strayed on the 
 
 123
 
 i2 4 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 gravel they dried him up almost to nothing, him 
 and his humours. Besides, one would scarcely 
 dare. You do not report High Mass ; here 
 was a commination service, the Dies Irae, only 
 on earth ; common wrongs made the two cele- 
 brants one, as with a sacrament ; Pinn, the 
 Baptist, detonated with Athanasian fury ; Brumby, 
 one of the Church's foundations, talked conscience 
 like a Nonconformist. Did the like of you or 
 me pull out a sketch-book to draw on the spot 
 these angels of wrath spreading their wings on 
 the blast, we might justly feel we were all but 
 brawling in church. Enough that vengeance was 
 theirs ; out went the unclean thing from the 
 camp, the two camps, drummed into outer dark- 
 ness. 
 
 Not a word, while the rite lasted, had the two 
 just men said to each other. And yet, how inti- 
 mately had they communed. Every bang at the 
 drum, each knew, was a pledge ; every censure a 
 vow ; and each brace made the vow mutual ; both 
 were sworn, without a word said, to fast not from 
 Fay only, but from all such abhorred meats. 
 Enough, for them, of the potential Fays of this 
 world. Each had the other's word that vicarious 
 generalship was over ; no more of these proxy
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 125 
 
 bell-wethers, whatever the weight of the bell ; 
 let the common, unwriting editor, elsewhere, do 
 as he would, these two would go back to the 
 jannock Halland tradition ; no guiding word that 
 came as from either of them would come, on the 
 way, through another brain but his ; once again 
 they would literally give their best ; they would 
 give themselves. 
 
 Pinn, to say nothing of Brumby, found it in him 
 to be almost glad of the cleansing fire, that night, 
 as he curled up in bed — for so far he was human ; 
 he curled. For one last time they had had to 
 make use of the poison ; it had been too late, that 
 night, to replace Fay's trash ; both papers were all 
 but out when the rogue was caught. All the 
 effort lay in front, and both fell asleep as happy 
 in their strength for it as men who feel, with a 
 skinful, the iron will with which they will spurn 
 strong liquor the rest of their lives. 
 
 It was no mere hugging of fancies, either. 
 Next day Brumby, for one, strode down to his 
 office, as the strong man rejoiceth to run a race, 
 framing, as he strode, the few brusque, straight- 
 flung words with which for the next few days he 
 should head off any intrusive compliments on the 
 new fire of the Warder's leaders. Arrived, he
 
 i26 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 proceeded to light it. Hard work it was, too ; 
 strange, when it came to writing, how many points 
 had to be looked up and got, in a paltry sense, 
 right — points that in talk will be turned or 
 shunned by anyone not a bore — dates that the 
 wise do without ; intractable titles of Acts and 
 Commissions, whole tracts of arid fact not fit to 
 be shown in the landscape by more than a few 
 picked dots and ends of lines charged and flashing 
 with significance ; or better, perhaps, in colour, 
 washed in with light allusive touches of the full 
 brush sped by the right instinct. Could some 
 tyrant, harder than he that set Michael Angelo 
 modelling in snow, set certain impressionist 
 painters to state, with the rigid explicitness 
 forced on the worker in marble, the thrills that 
 they felt before Nature, the poor men might have 
 Brumby's sense of revolt against the world's waste 
 or misuse of the rarest gifts of its children. 
 Nothing higher, he soon perceived, than an insect 
 would spin an entire cocoon like this out of its 
 own vitals. And then his talent for organisation 
 came to his aid. Half, more than half, the staff 
 were soon taken from the common round of 
 their night's work ; at a word from him they 
 threw down their trivial tasks ; they left all, to
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 127 
 
 devil in the greater cause. Sub-editors rum- 
 maged, under direction, the offspring of the 
 teeming minds of Whitaker, Hazell and Dod ; 
 the chief reporter, stirring, at Brumby's circum- 
 stantial request, his stumps, ran for a Blue-Book. 
 
 For the early hours of that evening Brumby 
 sat like a Pharaoh at the building of a pyramid, 
 thrilled by the vastness of his exertions, and 
 keeping the coolies hard at it. Then he wrote. 
 As the night wore on he took off first his coat, 
 then his boots ; the perspiration surprised him ; 
 but the massed materials cried out to be touched 
 with the enchantment of perfect form ; if he had 
 to strip to the buff he would stick to it. Stick 
 he did ; he wrote, and undid buttons, 4ill the 
 agonised foreman compositor, a man early grey 
 with just catching newspaper trains, came down 
 and snatched the last page from under the cur- 
 rent pen. 
 
 Perhaps that day's Warder, the first of the 
 new birth, had, like all of us, its failings. The 
 diversion of so many streams of labour overnight 
 left certain cultivable areas, no doubt, perceptibly 
 parched. Where the brief, jocund paragraph 
 might have raised its juicy shoots, the penny-a- 
 lining local reporter stretched his dry waste of
 
 i28 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 sand. Still, as often as Brumby read the leader 
 — and he found that after half an hour of other 
 work he could always come back to it fresh — 
 he felt the game was worth while. Besides, as 
 he got more into the thing, he would soon be 
 able to spare more and more men for the other 
 work of the office ; their minds, no doubt, all the 
 better for having the short release from humdrum. 
 More ; not only the thing would come easier ; 
 he meant it to come different ; he meant to 
 redeem all our modern political writing from all its 
 delving at data and reference, chapter and verse ; 
 the thing was too fusty. What a fellow must 
 want on the way to town these raw mornings 
 was contact with a ripe, sun-warmed tempera- 
 ment ; you ought to get right up against him ; 
 he should feel the glow of your nature, its lustre, 
 fruitiness and body, its form and pressure. 
 Brumby would see to it. No headlong changes, 
 of course ; better to work towards the right thing 
 slowly, Nature's way ; and, first, simply to stop 
 the rot, to caulk the holes the rat had been 
 gnawing, to reassure his world that the Warder 
 was still himself, his whole self, and nothing but 
 
 himself. 
 
 For two nights had his pen testified to this
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 129 
 
 when there came by post a note on very good 
 paper, not signed ; just the words : " Gregory, 
 remember thy swashing blow ! " It was queer 
 — not that unsigned letters should come ; night 
 and morning, foundling counsels are left on the 
 doorsteps of editors ; what was queer was the 
 way this one mattered ; it had a magnetic im- 
 personality. Brumby, urged by he knew not 
 what, sent for a Shakspeare, with notes ; Tudor 
 idiom was puzzling enough, but Tudor idiom 
 cut out of its matrix and set in some new con- 
 text that was not even given — this was Delphi 
 quoting the Sphinx, a conundrum two deep. He 
 craved to pooh-pooh it, and yet, yet, he went 
 asleep that night teasing himself with the thought 
 that he knew the writing. Asleep, he dreamt he 
 was crossing a wide steppe, alone, and had felt on 
 his face a first flake of snow like the man in Bret 
 Harte, and he woke in a fright. Only a dream, 
 of course ; and next night and the next and all 
 the following week he toiled at the salvage, 
 letting all else slide ; he did not go once to the 
 Wigwam, his club ; for ten days he had not 
 touched a golf-club ; for dinner he failed two 
 hostesses. 
 
 Saturday, Sabbath of Jew and journalist, came 
 9
 
 130 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 again. Even then, on his trade's rest-day, letters 
 came up to his house, sent on from the office ; at 
 breakfast the first thing he saw on his plate, as a 
 sick man sees blood again in his phlegm, was his 
 name in the haunting handwriting. There had 
 been an election in Halland the day before ; all 
 the week he had conjured the faithful to quit them 
 like men ; his pen, a very sword, had been every- 
 where ; it had flashed at the head of the van ; it 
 had whipped in the flanks ; those who skulked in 
 the rear he beat with the flat. All had been done 
 that man could do ; only, the Midianites were very 
 many ; all was done in vain. He opened the 
 letter. In it there were, at the top, the calamitous 
 figures of yesterday's rout, and below them, as if 
 the man could not leave his quoting alone — 
 
 " O for one hour of Wallace wight 
 Or well-skilled Bruce to rule the fight, 
 And cry ' Saint Andrew for our right ! ' 
 Another sight had seen that morn, 
 From Fate's dark book a leaf been torn, 
 And Flodden had been Bannockbourne ! " 
 
 Suddenly he knew the writing ; recognition 
 slipped into his mind as your heel, when all but 
 past hope of insertion, slips into a boot. The
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 131 
 
 hand, he could swear, was that of the Sheriff, his 
 eulogist six days ago ; he that had praised the 
 ghost blamed the living man. Poor old Sheriff; 
 even the great ones of the earth must mind where 
 they put their feet, else they may come these 
 croppers. Well, he would not tell tales on the 
 Sheriff; anonymity was a trap to lay; what it 
 caught should have mercy. While his thoughts 
 earned him the fifth beatitude, his hands opened 
 another letter and another, and then a third. This 
 arrested him : 
 
 " Dear Mr Brumby, — For God's sake cure your cold, 
 or mumps, or collywobbles — I don't mind the least what 
 it is — and come back to work and sack the wishy-washy 
 windbag of an understudy that's been on the job this 
 week. All we want is just a little plain English common- 
 sense from someone who means what he says and says 
 what he means. In fact we want you. Excuse plain- 
 ness, and believe us. — Your faithful, 
 
 "Country Manners." 
 
 So, then, it was snow ; the flakes thickened. 
 But O blind generation ! that loved him and yet 
 did not know him for certain, called on his name 
 in their hours of doubt and trouble, and took for 
 the true deliverer the first ventriloquist that 
 answered to it. Moses could not be off duty
 
 i 3 2 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 an hour; the people would set to and say their 
 prayers to a calf. Out, too, on Fay, more than 
 ever, Fay that had aped him to his hurt, taking 
 from the true mint its recipe for coining in gold 
 and forging with it shams that cut the gold 
 out in the hearts of its lovers, debauching their 
 sight with a yellow more garishly telling, till the 
 sheen of the real thing fell dull on their eyes. No, 
 no, though ; let us be fair ; on the eyes of some, a 
 few, strays, incompetents. After all, the rest had 
 their faculties left. To-night, he remembered 
 with pleasure, he dined with Hedlum, the head of 
 the bar in Halland, not a Conservative, certainly — 
 no Liberal either — and yet the man for his mood, 
 an impregnable rock of normal practical wisdom, 
 one of the power-stations of our English life, 
 ever generating the sober sagacity that makes 
 worlds go round. Basking in the radiance of 
 Hedlum's sanity, his own trust in the innate 
 decency of men, in the mass, would pick up the 
 tone it had lost at the touch of the poor freaks, 
 high and low, who had just been airing their in- 
 sensibility. 
 
 Hedlum was not a freak, certainly. " Thou art 
 a blessed fellow," the Prince said to Poins, " to 
 think as every man thinks ; never a man's thought
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 133 
 
 in the world keeps the roadway better than thine." 
 More blessed still, Hedlum took twenty per cent, 
 off what every man thought, and the rest he 
 affirmed, with a contained momentum ; then 
 every man felt how right, in the main, he had 
 been, and Hedlum even more right than he — so 
 regally, affluently right that the luxury of under- 
 statement was well within his means. Hedlum 
 would take up all that was current, trim it and 
 pare its nails and give it his blessing and send it 
 out into the world to get on, and it did, famously ; 
 the day's buzz of common thought and talk paid 
 tithes of its total volume for leave to rebound from 
 a mind so sonorous ; and not a bad bargain either. 
 When the residue came echoing back from that 
 judicial-looking bench you felt that if it was not 
 true, then the fault was truth's ; at least, there 
 must be some upper order of truth, not universally 
 known, to which he had conformed and to which 
 the facts, in the vulgar sense, could not have been 
 loyal. 
 
 All of him helped the effect. He was of the 
 settled age, fifty or so, handsome with the con- 
 trolled benignity, the mellowed precision, the 
 happy, distinguished melancholy sometimes united 
 in a good-looking judge. His blue spectacles gave
 
 i 3 4 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 you thoughts of Homer, Milton, the whole vener- 
 able company of sightless seers in books, as you 
 watched the weighing of each word at its exit from 
 the shaved, working lips, or the closure of their 
 inexorable adamant behind its heels. As the last 
 commonplace of club gossip, smoke-room heroics, 
 or music-hall sentiment issued from these portals, 
 transfigured by the moderate discount that made 
 it twice itself, you not only saw it was final truth, 
 or virility's quintessential emotion ; you felt he 
 had done something decisive, even gallant, and 
 that you were in it, a fine fellow, too, in your way ; 
 and you quickened ; you lived back and forward, 
 back to the blithe days at school when they first 
 taught you never to think your own thoughts or 
 take what came in a way of your own, but to pool 
 your brains with the rest and " throw yourself into 
 the life of the school," and on to your early man- 
 hood's deeper training in resemblance to others, 
 and so to the good day, always coming and always 
 here, always to be had by him who wills it with 
 his might, when the imitative shall inherit the 
 earth. 
 
 Brumby's fishing for counsel's opinion at dinner 
 that night was not good. It showed no finesse ; 
 he had not the coolness. With joyless humour he
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 135 
 
 led on through talk of the odd things editors see, 
 the faddists they have to keep down, the cranks to 
 head off, to the droll little hits that are made at 
 them out of the dark by wild men ; why, only this 
 week he had twice been taunted with not being 
 quite the man that he had been five days ago. 
 Curse old Hedlum ! Why need he stop laughing, 
 like that ? Why should he say, " Well, well ! " in 
 that balancing tone, with that enigmatic toler- 
 ance — it might be for the assassins, it might be for 
 some poor wretch that had failed from out his 
 blood, in his hour of trial. 
 
 " Yes ? " Brumby asked, almost pettishly. 
 
 Hedlum was majestically slow. He finished his 
 claret and leant back, feeling about for a gentle- 
 man's way to be cruel, only to be kind — the phrase 
 filled his whole mind, as the key-phrase of a 
 situation always did. " Don't you think, some- 
 times," he started at last, with his sweetly reason- 
 able stop full on, " that perhaps we all may, for a 
 season, be something short of our fullest selves ? " 
 Hedlum's humility had a cogent grandeur ; think 
 of Solon, for argument's sake, owning himself the 
 makings of a kleptomaniac. You could not go on 
 arguing. " I am bound to say," Hedlum went on, 
 " frankly, that if anyone were to ask me, on my
 
 136 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 oath, if I found in the Warder to-day — in the 
 Stalwart either, for that matter " — Hedlum loved 
 these parenthetic advertisements of immunity from 
 bias — " quite the same fairly high and clear note 
 of authority that each has led us to expect — from 
 the Warder, that of a strong and attractive per- 
 sonality ; from the Stalwart, that of rigorously 
 cohesive thought — well, I confess — " 
 
 Then Brumby knew that the clubs, the bar 
 messes, the whole noble army of diners-out — how 
 dear they all were to him ! — were lost. Not that 
 he put it to himself, articulately, that Hedlum 
 echoed them. But Brumby knew. Hedlum's 
 sovereign sanity was theirs, squared, cubed. But 
 with the killing thought came another, not killing. 
 Pinn was losing hold too. 
 
 " For instance ? " he asked, the raw place craving 
 alike for the torturing hand and for this new oil 
 that might drip from it. 
 
 "That's a very fair question," said Hedlum, 
 suavely ; if you have been in the courts you will 
 know the tone of surprised judicial commendation 
 of a prisoner's rational conduct of his own defence. 
 He looked through a little heap of old news- 
 papers. " This will do," he said, and took one ; 
 " I'll spare your blushes ; I'll draw my proof from
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 137 
 
 the Stalwart of ten days ago — from its leader 
 on that speech of Albry's ; but mind, every word 
 I say in its praise applies, mutatis mutandis, to 
 things of your own, at your best." He folded 
 the paper to read. " I'll skip the exordium," he 
 said ; " it just states the case. Then the writer 
 goes on." 
 
 And so, with intention and gusto, the vir pietate 
 gravis, the image of reason and conscience at 
 friends with the world, read out the second, or 
 middle, part of a leader that you know of, adorn- 
 ing with forensic fulness and roundness of stress 
 every worn tag of verbiage that reeked, beyond 
 the common, of the bluster, timorousness, false 
 finality of meanly gregarious half-minds. 
 
 '"We are forced to state the point at issue in this 
 somewhat plain and bald fashion because there has 
 grown up so noticeable an aversion to the cold touch 
 of realities in the minds of those who know only too 
 well how soon a plam tale would set them down. 
 
 " In words, like weeds, they wrap them o'er, 
 Like coarsest cloak against the cold." 
 
 That cloak we are forced to tear away. The time for 
 words is past. At last we are face to pace with a definite, 
 practical issue? 
 
 "You see," Hedlum put in, taking off his
 
 1 38 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 spectacles a moment and looking blandly at the 
 listener, before going on, "how he hits the nail 
 •on the head ; how he confronts us with the 
 actual. 
 
 " ' The lists are set ; the trumpet has sounded ; which 
 is it to be ? ' 
 
 " It stirs one like a trumpet, really," the reader 
 interpolated again, and went on : 
 
 " ' Is the verdict which has already been passed in 
 the minds of all right-thinking men to be formally 
 entered and acted upon as the verdict of the whole 
 community ? Or are we to witness one more instance 
 of the occasional inability of fairly intelligent com- 
 munities to express at once, in their public acts, the 
 ripest thoughts and sanest feelings of their nobler 
 part ? ' 
 
 " The writer never loses his balance, you see 
 — never carried away. He masters himself. I 
 go on : 
 
 '"In these days of feverish haste and multiple pre- 
 occupation it is hard to tell what may not happen ; ' " 
 
 Nothing short of exhaustive italicisation would 
 express Hedlum's relish for this piece of pro- 
 fundity. He pursued : 
 
 "'yet we cannot resist the conclusion that even if a 
 blow be not struck now for a considered and coherent
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 139 
 
 conception of the public interest, the inevitable growth 
 of a sober public opinion will intervene at last to mitigate, 
 if it may not avert, the consequences of a passing lapse 
 from civic duty in its truest and highest sense.' " 
 
 He looked up, placid, assured, majestic, in 
 generous reliance on Brumby's recognition of 
 great qualities, even in an enemy. "It goes on," 
 he said, reading more lightly, as if in mere annota- 
 tion of a proved case : 
 
 " ' Enough has been said to leave no doubt as to the 
 nature and the importance of the issue at stake, and 
 we are loth to add even one word that might seem to 
 travel beyond the cardinal question of fact, and in the 
 direction of personalities.' 
 
 " However, perhaps I needn't read more, to 
 answer your question. O si sic omnia! — that's 
 all I say." He paused a moment, hesitating 
 between the pangs of suppressed quotation and 
 the lofty instinct of abstention from further im- 
 provement of a secured triumph. The pangs had 
 it, and he quoted, gravely and melodiously : 
 
 " ' Though deep, yet clear ; though gentle, yet not dull ; 
 Strong, without rage; without o'erflowing, full.' 
 
 " Above all — straight." The word, in Hedlum's 
 fine voice, was like the last note of an organ ; the
 
 i 4 o A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 silence after hung down from it, letting go finger 
 by finger, reluctantly. Hedlum enjoyed the 
 cadence down to its last vibration. Then, with 
 a true sense of contrast, he put on the bright, 
 breezy, brotherly stop. No young curate with 
 the hue of his agreeable, athletic boyhood as yet 
 unsicklied by thought or study could be more 
 didactically cheery. 
 
 " And you're just as straight, just as strong, my 
 dear Brumby, in your own way, when your pen is 
 itself. Come now, give it its rights. Let yourself 
 go, again. Give us the old bracing tone, the grit, 
 the moral originality, the keen, tonic air, as of 
 Alpine heights. Take it from me — and I think 
 you safely may — that no one in England better 
 knows how." 
 
 Whenever Hedlum said, " Take it from me," he 
 was happy. It meant, like a certain Greek 
 particle, that he who used it was a mighty and 
 spreading oak, under whose umbrageous wisdom 
 the person addressed was free to huddle from the 
 rain in which, by his own error, he was then out. 
 " Foolish virgin," it explained, " here is oil ; take 
 some, gratis. I have plenty." But thoughts 
 rodent past cure by such ministrations were 
 getting their teeth into Brumby. What if Pinn
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 141 
 
 at that moment were hearing things like these? 
 Pinn, with all allowances made, was but a sorry, 
 desiccated soul, void of honest bowels of good 
 fellowship ; not one instinct of a sportsman in him 
 to keep him from running outside the posts, if he 
 were unwatched. The dog returns to its vomit. 
 Was Pinn sneaking back in the dark at that 
 moment, his tail licking under his belly, to re- 
 swallow Fay?
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 "Doth any man doubt, that if there were taken out of men's 
 minds vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations, imaginations 
 as one would, and the like, but it would leave the minds of a number 
 of men poor shrunken things, full of melancholy and indisposition, 
 and unpleasing to themselves ?" BACON, Essay of Truth. 
 
 \T O, Pinn had not come to that ; to him no 
 *■ one had written ; no bludgeoning friend 
 
 had left him covered, like Brumby, with faithful 
 weals. But by now Pinn could have almost 
 wished that, say, one friend had tried — not a 
 gang, but just one — to make a break in a sense 
 that he had of making a speech in a full morgue, 
 where no one could rise to the points — that, or 
 else a vast, vacuous cave where his voice went 
 bounding, rebounding about from wall to wall, 
 investigating the solitude. 
 
 Each night he wrote what he felt to be power- 
 fully winged words ; each morning, so far as the 
 eye could see, they flew forth with the right 
 centrifugal vigour in the Stalwarts familiar 
 red carts ; and yet, though all might be well, 
 
 his own eyes could not see the glory of its being 
 
 142
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 143 
 
 well, as they had done when the mechanic, 
 routine parts of the prophetic office, the mere 
 voice production, the verbal arrangement of his 
 message to the age were otherwise provided for, 
 and the prophet himself was left to move freely 
 among both the children of light and those of this 
 world, and to note the diverse incidence of final 
 truth on the mind open to good and on hard 
 shells. How could his soul now enjoy good in 
 his labour? It had not the time. Hard work 
 is a regular veld, for loneliness ; as Pinn stalked 
 on across it, panic began to hang over him, a 
 vulture not yet at his eyes, only hovering high 
 in the air, under the sun, in great curves that 
 drew themselves on the ground in rings of 
 circling shadow. 
 
 You are not to think that all of Fay's leaders, 
 like that one, were made for all time and all 
 themes and the use of any party to any of 
 earth's quarrels. That one, indeed, although 
 not the first of its neutral gender, had taken him 
 time. Pains, greater than you or I might 
 suppose, were needed, to scour out every word 
 that might be to the point — to some point or 
 other. But, under these labours, two things 
 sustained him ; one, the pure, aesthetic delight
 
 i 4 4 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 to his soul of the new figures cut by Pinns and 
 Brumbies under this perfected moonlight of 
 Puckishness ; the other, the earthlier prudence of 
 husbands and fathers. For ours, the economists 
 said, was an epoch of " interchangeable parts " ; 
 in the younger days of farm machinery a reaper 
 that got out of order in Connaught might have 
 to go home to where it was born — to Bedford 
 or Norwich, perhaps — to be mended ; now, the 
 farmer had nothing to do but write for some 
 " standardised " piece that would fit into any 
 reaper ; with that he could put the thing right in 
 ten minutes. Had not the march of mind brought 
 us on to the point when nuts, bolts and cogged 
 wheels in the mechanism of government by talk 
 should be standardised also, and the toiling 
 harvester in that field, too, delivered from half 
 of his unforeseen fixes? Hence Fay's experi- 
 ments ; not that he thought of cleaving solely 
 to the new model ; rather his mind ran on two 
 concurrent departments, like those of the tailors 
 — " bespoke " and ready-made. 
 
 For emergency nights, and for nights when 
 composition was distasteful, Fay thought he 
 would keep by him always a stock of stout slop 
 suits to fit all the normal and constant con-
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 145 
 
 troversial states of mind ; any great cause that 
 came fuming and raging at any time into the 
 shop could then be sent happy away in a reach- 
 me-down rig, at the end of five minutes. And 
 yet the putting of glove-fits on Brumby and Pinn 
 was too near the craftsman's heart to be quite given 
 up. For each angle of Pinn's scraggy spirit, for 
 each more curvilinear protuberance of the beefy soul 
 of Brumby, it had long piqued Fay to fashion a 
 portraying expression of itself, at first with the 
 irony of literal precision, and then with the 
 heightening, stressing glee of the painter who 
 itches to make his sitters more like themselves 
 than they are, to teach Nature to articulate, and 
 each salient trait of temper and basic trick of 
 thought to work itself out on the face without the 
 hesitant blur of " real " life. To make these halves 
 the wholes they might be, to give to dull spite the 
 fullest use of its wits, to cocksureness all of its 
 estate of brass, to the pedant and the virilist their 
 several rights of stark rigidity and of jolly brutish- 
 ness — to these works of love (for he did, in a way, 
 love not only the work but the things he worked 
 on, as Swift loved his fops, and Darwin the worms) 
 Fay was inflamed by the natural value of the 
 
 contrast between his models ; it was fun to polish 
 io
 
 146 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 that up and stud it with extra points, like a story 
 good to begin with. All of Brumby that played 
 the dog to the cat of Pinn Fay patiently rendered 
 more canine, and Pinn more feline, to match ; 
 Brumby he purged, as he went on, of anything 
 like coherent thinking ; from Pinn he squeezed 
 out any last oozings of blood or humour. In a 
 couple of years he had put the two positive 
 types through both degrees of comparison ; each 
 now shone before men with a light that, from 
 being more Brumbian, or more Pinnish, than it 
 was, had waxed ultra-Brumbian, super-Pinnish, 
 more Brumbian or Pinnish than it could ever 
 have been with no Fay to raise it to the nth power 
 of itself. 
 
 All who witnessed the transfiguration were 
 stirred ; none, however, more deeply than Pinn. 
 Reading his own Stalwart of a morning he 
 was like them that dream ; worlds of old, ob- 
 structive things got out of his way ; mystic fists 
 lunged out from him, thrice the length of his 
 arm ; he punched, with a reach not given to him 
 in old days, the remote and guarded noses of 
 malignity and error ; he was winged, as those 
 dreamers are, and flew off down trunk roads of 
 argument, so often tramped wearily by him in
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 147 
 
 their middle stretches, to thrilling termini of 
 finality. A thin lucidity, austere reason, syllo- 
 gistic morals, all his bony harem of veiled 
 mistresses undid the baffling lawn and fired him 
 with the view of countenances parched and un- 
 sensuous to his heart's desire. 
 
 To put forth all one's strength may be merely 
 to take from oneself half the good of it. Cook 
 your own dinner, know just what is coming up, 
 and, whatever your gift in the art, rapture is 
 gone ; the delicious enigma of the dish-covers 
 is as a tale that is told. Had you but planted 
 the sacred fire of your leading ideas in the 
 heart of a competent cook, and left the thing 
 there ! 
 
 It now dawned on Pinn that verbal inspira- 
 tion may be too plenary for the peace of the 
 divine mind that lays it on. His organ, so far 
 as it had lived for that good end, was ceasing 
 to be organic. Intrinsically, of course, the force 
 of a dominant brain must be used to more 
 purpose directly than through an attorney. 
 But what good, pray, had he of it ? A novel 
 impulse was on him, to rush out among people, 
 anywhere, away from this awesome cohabitation 
 with his own powers in a resonant vacuum. He
 
 148 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 held out awhile, but Monday morning, the one 
 after Brumby's dinner with Hedlum, found the 
 impulse ungovernable. To the friends of the 
 popular cause he had served out, the night be- 
 fore, the usual jorums of argumentative rum ; 
 to-day his Stalwart was not unfolded ; his 
 own lips abhorred the stuff. He sent for Brad- 
 shaw, picked a train, and flung out of doors, 
 making for Over Belton, down the estuary. 
 Belton was sore Halland's bath, her Margate. 
 He knew the name ; there would be crowds 
 there. 
 
 In the train, at first, there was balm. Of four 
 men in the compartment, all of them strangers, 
 and three of them clearly golfers bound for the 
 Belton links, two had the Stalwart ; one of them 
 read it, the other slept, with each end of a copy 
 tucked rug-wise under each femur ; only one 
 had a Warder ; the fourth nourished reason on 
 " The Dead Snip, or One Horse Mammoth" an 
 organ of prophecy, chief bread - winner of the 
 Halland bookmakers. Stalwart and Warder, 
 joined in these just proportions, brought back the 
 thrill of that night, the steely glitter of his own 
 scorn, the credit that Brumby had done himself 
 too — poor, muddy cursing, no doubt, but then,
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 149 
 
 think of the man ; waters, by a law of Nature, 
 cannot rise higher than their source ; and then the 
 deject tail of the goat shooed into the wilderness ; 
 and, last of all, and less balmy, the infinitesimal 
 fear lest that tail, as it went, was tipped for one 
 second with just the least curl of a contumacious 
 waggle. 
 
 " Done with the Stalwart ? " the Warder man 
 asked of his opposite, who had now ceased to 
 read. " Bear to see the Warder ? " he added, 
 offering the exchange. 
 
 Both read again. Their friend, having honour- 
 ably carried self-control well over the frontiers of 
 sleep, now lost hold, and snored frankly, till a 
 " Good Lord, deliver us ! " broke in tones of 
 vivacious disgust from the student of the 
 Stalwart. 
 
 " Litany too, by George ! " groaned the sleeper, 
 awaking. He stared, blinking, gradually relieved. 
 " If I didn't dream I was in church ! And the 
 Stalwart turned parson and preaching — a fat pi 
 jaw about moderation ! Fact is, a man can't be" 
 too careful about what he reads before going to 
 bed." As sleep and its terrors drew back, he 
 grew lively. " What has gone wrong with 
 the Stalwart, that's what I want to know.
 
 150 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 Hewlitt now, you ought to know ; you're a 
 Radical." 
 
 "With the Stalwart?" As he stressed the 
 name, the man addressed gave a basilisk look at 
 the Warder he had in his hands. 
 
 "Yes, your dear Stalwart," cut in the original 
 petitioner to Heaven. " Why, the thing's half 
 dead ; hasn't the life to be nasty ; not a snort 
 left in it." 
 
 " That's right," concurred the ingrate who had 
 slept with the Stalwart warming his reactionary 
 thighs ; " Hewlitt, my boy, it's a serious affair. 
 Here are we Tories paying our penny a day 
 to see the heathen rage, and I'm hanged 
 if he's raging. I tell you, we're not getting 
 value." 
 
 " Are we, d'you think, we Liberals ? " Hewlitt 
 retorted with a glance that, again, might have 
 burnt a hole in the Warder he held. 
 
 But the litanist's preoccupation with his own 
 wrongs swept him past interruption. " Question 
 is — " he said, " granted the Stalwart has got to 
 talk rot of some sort, it being a party rag, can't 
 it at any rate talk rot like a man — crisp, nervous, 
 Anglo-Saxon rot, the way it used to, not wishy- 
 washiness like this." He took the paper from
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 151 
 
 his knees and read, with ribald stress on each 
 balancing and qualifying word : 
 
 " ' If it cannot be honestly said that the Premier com- 
 pletely justified all the opinions he advanced last night, 
 it must at least be allowed that there is more force than 
 he himself possibly realises in his contention that a 
 good many factors in the present situation have to be 
 taken into account in estimating the probabilities of 
 the case.' " 
 
 And so it is for this that a man may trace, with 
 a stern, self-curbing vigilance, every nick in the 
 indented coast of truth. The scoffer, no doubt, 
 was only a malignant and an obscurantist — a 
 buffoon at that ; and yet the scoff made the poor 
 naked new-born child of Pinn's invention seem 
 other than it was, so much does the quality of 
 made things live in the percipient eye and perish 
 at its perversion. Scientific exactitude, imper- 
 turbable balance, irresistible moderation — a passing 
 clown breathed in their face and they shrivelled 
 to a skeleton system of blanks, a void syllabus of 
 nullities. 
 
 The other clown was at it now, riding his crass 
 jest to a standstill, clown-fashion. " There ! " he 
 exulted. " Call that a pennyworth ? Call that
 
 152 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 heathen rage of the kind and quality demanded 
 by the purchaser? I suppose it's what Rads 
 would call ' sane.' It's what I call a breach of 
 the Food and Drugs Act. Sane ! We'll be 
 having Hewlitt sane next ! " 
 
 A fond paternal roar from the author of this 
 sally, echoed by the thinker who had read aloud, 
 duly identified brisk incivility with wit. But 
 Hewlitt, a wiry, hard-bitten veteran of club chaff, 
 was not done with. " You won't," he rejoined, 
 " if you play off a Warder upon me each time I 
 take you down to the links. Why, the thing just 
 tears round and round in a circle. It makes your 
 head turn. Listen. Mind, I don't cry up the 
 Stalwart. It's gone all to bits, I grant, since that 
 fire ; Pinn's top floor was gutted, perhaps. Still, 
 Pinn does say something. But the Warder — 
 nothing ! Absolutely nothing ! Listen : 
 
 " ' It is easy to exaggerate the significance of such a 
 speech as the Prime Minister's, as indeed it is to 
 under-rate its importance.' 
 
 You see — plus and minus — cancel out — 
 nothing left ! 
 
 " 'Whether reform cannot come more advantageously 
 by tackling practically some of the difficulties that
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 153 
 
 confront us is a question that we must leave to be 
 determined by the general sense of those whose 
 political opinions rests on a serious study of affairs.' 
 
 " Now, what does that say ? Anything ? Or 
 nothing? I ask anyone." 
 
 The triumphant query in his face challenged 
 them all. For the moment the two friends of the 
 constitution were stuck ; the amateur of prophecy 
 detached his eyes from the Dead Snip, and 
 offered a look of imbecile receptiveness ; Pinn, 
 before he knew, had said " Not much, certainly," 
 with a wintry smile. So that was how Brumby 
 wrote. Strangely, he had not looked at the 
 Warder all the past week. He would buy one at 
 Belton. The train was slowing for it. The 
 session broke up. 
 
 If you would view fair Melrose aright, go visit 
 it by the pale moonlight ; if Belton, visit it at 
 Whitsuntide, when on the level shore young 
 Halland brooks the hardy ass, when the brave 
 and the fair chaff and squeal, change hats, acquire 
 cocoanuts with their good right hands, or, squatted 
 on the sand-dunes, sit out midsummer suns in 
 silent ecstasies or agonies of mutual appreciation 
 or embarrassment. August over, Belton goes
 
 154 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 down, like Persephone, into a chilled hell of her 
 own ; the sands, that were so full of people, sit 
 desolate ; serried ranks of penny - in - the - slot 
 machines, enough to keep all Halland herself in 
 goodies and knowledge of her weight, stand 
 rusting ; like the arches derelict in the Campagna 
 they speak mournfully of man's presence and of 
 his passing. As winter advances, on the high, 
 narrow ledge of concrete piled, between the tea- 
 rooms and the beach, by the giant hands of the 
 District Council, the Belton landladies, urged by 
 famine,* range in and out and back and forth, 
 seeking whom they may provide, by a kind of 
 violence, with a plain tea, or calling aloud on 
 reason and justice to applaud their several tariffs 
 for the extras that have justly won for the ledge 
 the name of Eggs-and-Bacon Esplanade. 
 
 Pinn had never seen Belton before. True, he, 
 lived only ten miles away. But some of his 
 holidays had to be spent at Grindelwald, threaten- 
 ing reluctant Christendom with a re-union of all 
 churches ; others at Biarritz, making it clear by 
 his aspect that he was not there as an idler or 
 
 * "quas improba ventris 
 Exegit caecas rabies, catulique relicti 
 Faucibus expectant siccis." — Vergil, sEneid, ii.
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 155 
 
 seeker of pleasure ; others in Florence, Venice, 
 Umbria, firmly enduring the arts and deepening 
 his sense of the enormity of the Roman error. So 
 the democrat never had thrust himself upon 
 Demos in his sea-side pleasaunce. But he knew, 
 through print, as he knew most things which he 
 knew at all, that Belton, generally speaking, was 
 thronged with "the masses." Print always said 
 so, as ancient print always has said the Buccleugh 
 was bold ; a depopulated watering-place or a 
 nervous Buccleugh being, as the gifted minds at 
 the back of the printed word perceived, too 
 charmless for commemoration. 
 
 Print being right, by the law of its nature, Pinn 
 saw, more clearly than ever, that life had gone 
 wrong — not, of course, to spite him, but still in 
 a way that would try any man — when he emerged 
 from the station into a very fair copy of Tadmor 
 in the wilderness. The shops, though unshuttered, 
 were deathly still ; in the one where he bought a 
 Warder, the proprietor, when roused, moved as 
 if in a secular trance ; in the boulevardian street 
 some one in knickers was, with the indomitable 
 spirit of youth, walking out a fox-terrier ; in the 
 vacant roadway a man in the late evening of life 
 stood stock still, simply drawing his breath, adoring
 
 1 56 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 the wintry sunshine and enduring numbly till, like 
 the column relieving Lucknow, one-o'clock dinner 
 should burst into sight. Horror ubique animos, 
 simul ipsa silentia terrent. 
 
 Hailed from all sides by the echoes of his boots, 
 Pinn traversed the ringing piazza of asphalt at the 
 pier-end ; thence to gain the beach he had only 
 to run the blockade of the maenads on their ledge. 
 His looks were his safety ; any man less stupefy - 
 ingly glum might well have been torn to as many 
 pieces as Orpheus, and each piece accommodated 
 with the best eighteenpenny lunch in Belton ; 
 Pinn passed alive and unfed ; the last poignant 
 cries of unsatisfied hospitality died down behind 
 him ; beyond, on the open shore, a solitary nurse- 
 maid trailed, melancholy as a thaw, over desert 
 spaces of sand, listlessly desiring her charges, as 
 she turned each new page of her novelette, to 
 come out of that puddle and not catch their 
 deaths ; beyond her was solitude. 
 
 He had come out to look for a multitude, to 
 
 rub against it, to feel it was there. Then, for a 
 
 time, after the first disappointment, he hardly 
 
 I 
 craved for his kind at all. Man, as seen, in 
 
 sample, in the train, was not to be coveted in 
 
 bulk. It was one thing for Crusoe to feel the
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 157 
 
 need of society ; another to see the first print of 
 a beastly savage's foot on the sand. It was 
 enough to walk on alone and think of Brumby. 
 For Brumby, it seemed, was not coming off with 
 the mob any better than he. Well, with the mob 
 what it was, Brumby's state was so much the more 
 gracious, though none could deny that the speci- 
 men read in the train was poor beyond palliation, 
 whoever the judge. Best, anyhow, that Brumby 
 should now go on in that vein ; whatever its other 
 shortcomings, at least it would not disturb the 
 balance of power in the Halland press; Providence, 
 had it been less infinitely good, might have made 
 Brumby a prodigy of bad readableness, trashily 
 facetious, spicily pert, a Roman candle of flash 
 paradoxes, alluring to the untutored mind ; the 
 clear-eyed Power that might have taught cows to 
 bite and given horses long, sharp horns had so 
 framed Brumby that while he fumbled at his tools 
 a serious thinker might have time, without any 
 exposure to sordid anxieties, to make it plain, and 
 even interesting, to a befogged generation that 
 its every act should be the conscious application 
 of some reasoned moral principle. 
 
 By the time the hard walking and eager think- 
 ing had raised his spirits a little, Pinn had reached 
 
 ?
 
 158 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 Bardolph's Conk, the jutting point of red sand- 
 stone that ends the home reach of Belton sands. 
 Beyond it there opens out — unseen till you pass 
 the Conk — the mile-long Laggo Bay, a crescent 
 of white sand, changed that day into something 
 rich and strange by the sea's infinite jest and 
 excellent fancy. A Spanish steamer, feeling her 
 way up the silted estuary in a rising wind, the 
 evening before, had grounded on Laggo Bank, a 
 mile out ; the captain and crew came ashore ; there 
 was no sensation ; it looked like a common case 
 for salvage at leisure. But the wind rose to a 
 gale in the night ; as the tide fell it hammered 
 the hull on the shoal till first her back broke and 
 then she went right to pieces and the waves 
 washed the cargo clean out of her hold. The 
 wind was blowing on shore. The cargo was 
 oranges, done up in sketchy crates ; onions, in 
 frail crates too ; and wine, in the wood. 
 
 Morning broke on a curved mile of white 
 sand fringed with a ribbon of innumerable 
 oranges, their noble yellows melting into the mellow 
 browns, the greens, the lucent greys, the delicate 
 and managed blues of onions that had taken off 
 one, or two, or more coats to the work of the 
 night. Here and there, among these minor
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 159 
 
 treasures, as judgeships shine among the lesser 
 prizes of the Bar, a cask of sherry offered itself 
 to English earth. Near one cask, a few lemons 
 advertised the circumstantial benevolence of 
 fortune. 
 
 Unto these yellow sands the people of the coast, 
 and of much of the hinterland, came running. 
 Imagine what would happen if on one of these 
 mornings manna and quails were to fall in 
 Trafalgar Square. It did happen, on the shore 
 of Laggo Bay. Every possessor of any hollow 
 object, every owner of any conceivable form of 
 cubic capacity, brought it ; perambulators, school- 
 children's satchels, clothes-baskets, bonnets, coal- 
 scuttles, the human person — all were crammed in 
 haste ; an ambulance passed and re-passed, shed- 
 ding fragrance; a coffin, mobilised after a hasty 
 eviction, had done great things for a stricken 
 family in the first grisly light of dawn. By this 
 time the last of the wine had, as the French say, 
 lived ; but now and again you would come across 
 traces of swift, effectual operations, traces like 
 those you will find in a wood — the shredded snatch 
 of fur, the disarranged grass, the slight blood- 
 mark ; here it was two or three staves of a cask, 
 a broken bit of a hoop, a faint discoloration of
 
 160 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 the sand, a perfume delicate above oranges. 
 One stout dinger to the skirts of happy chance, 
 after defending a whole hogshead against the 
 world, had frugally borne it inland on a 
 cart. 
 
 But I speak after the flesh, as one sopping wet 
 with its humours. Pinn had them all staunched ; 
 the dry light of his intellect burnt up fancy 
 irrelevances ; on his unhampered sight, as he 
 turned Bardolph's Conk, there broke, in its 
 naked hideousness, simply a mile of ardent 
 larceny, so many head of humanity playing the 
 beast, the ape, the magpie, going straight back, 
 at a word from their bellies, to the moral pit 
 whence they were digged by the pains of ages ; 
 others, perhaps vilest of all, looking on amused ; 
 meaner than Gadarene swine, they laughed while 
 the other poor wretches rushed down a steep 
 place. 
 
 One grizzled, spectacled, middle-aged man, 
 who looked like a sweated schoolmaster turned 
 out to grass for a day, was fairly beaming at 
 the squalid carnival of illegality ; his very body 
 was radiant ; he squirmed, physically, as pleased 
 children squirm. To Pinn, who unconsciously 
 halted in front of the man where he sat, and was
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 161 
 
 cheerfully asked not to stand between him and 
 
 the play, he broke out in puerilities : — where was 
 
 old Homer now, with his " unharvested sea " ? 
 
 Had Pinn known, till now, that there was a 
 
 coast to the Hesperides' garden ? Faugh ! 
 
 " What about the smell ? " was his maundering 
 
 reply to Pinn's trenchant reminder that all 
 
 this pandemonium was over a sheer loss of 
 
 wealth to a world in which many lacked bread. 
 
 Wasn't it worth the world's while for a whole 
 
 coast to smell just once in a way, like a good 
 
 dessert on a table to which there still clung 
 
 memories of the most sustaining, the most 
 
 salutary, of all British entrees ? Nay, the imbecile 
 
 drivelled on, no English dessert ever smelt like 
 
 that, no departed steak and onions every really 
 
 trailed such glories behind them ; what you 
 
 smelt was Spain itself, sir ; not oranges, but 
 
 orange groves ; not just the sherry decanter ; 
 
 Dulcinea, rather, at the wine press. Did not 
 
 Pinn's charmed nose conduct his soul to mantillas 
 
 and the sitters of Velasquez, to Granada, the 
 
 Escurial? "And pause, sir, one moment, to 
 
 hark to the onions — how, through the revels of 
 
 your sense and your imagination, the onions 
 
 still sound their sane, robust note. And of what 
 ii
 
 i6 2 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 does the aggregate odour remind you? Isn't 
 it just of Cervantes' genius, sir, the best that was 
 ever compounded, its feet on the earth and its 
 head in the sky, eating God's onions and drink- 
 ing His wine ? Well, well — " 
 
 The creature simmered ; it seemed as if the 
 articulate words were merely a petty overflow, 
 a drop or two lipping over from some internal 
 reservoir of roaring enjoyment. Sickened as Pinn 
 was, he stayed a moment to help the man back 
 to his wits by simply putting it to him that all 
 these people were stealing. Useless. Ineptitude 
 merely darkened to coarse immorality. " Steal- 
 ing ? " the lost mind said. " Yes ; but Eliza- 
 bethanly. Would Drake, do you think, in all 
 his greatness, have scorned to take a galleon 
 loaded like this ? And to us it is more ; it is 
 Spain's whole treasure, the sum of all the things 
 in which, fallen, she still is great — the orange ; 
 the large kind of onion ; sherry — her imperish- 
 able trinity of summa bona. Are thy servants 
 swine, to turn from pearls cast before them. 
 And think, sir, what they've resisted — the tempta- 
 tion. This wreck is the work, the benign, the 
 supreme, but also the unaided, work of Nature. 
 Man's hand was not here. And yet which of
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 163 
 
 us dare say that these people, so happy to-day, 
 did not know, when that ship was coming up 
 this estuary, that the spread you see before you 
 was on board, and just one little light, well placed, 
 might — you understand me ? " 
 
 " I wish you good-day, sir," said Pinn. Re- 
 volted at the being's fertility in morbid clowning, 
 he strode on angrily. For a moment the school- 
 master followed with a twinkling eye the figure 
 of the literal man, he looked so drolly as if he 
 were fed on a diet, exclusively, of pokers ; the 
 good scholar tried to say that in Alcaics ; then 
 he took another pull at the refreshment of the 
 greater spectacle before going home to sustain 
 life on the correction of some score of the un- 
 distinguished Latin proses of a grammar-school's 
 fifth form. 
 
 Two policemen stood together, further on, 
 casting the eye of benevolent rule upon the labour 
 of the gleaners. Each gleaner had his little 
 pile, just above high-water mark, and went and 
 came between this base and the actual firing- 
 line of acquisition, to lay up his gains. No doubt 
 if one of them, A, had jumped the claim of 
 another, B, the police would have seen that B 
 suffered no wrong. A magistrate's heart burned
 
 1 64 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 within Pinn ; was this, he asked them in stern 
 and low tones, the way they did their duty ? 
 They were as gentle as ushers would be to a 
 judge who went mad in court ; there was a time, 
 they implied in soothing periphrases, to arrest, 
 and a time to refrain from arresting. Not till 
 he was out of hearing did the one pronounce 
 him "the rummest perisher I ever seen," and 
 the other underline this valuation with the one 
 word, " Champion ! " 
 
 Under Pinn the earth was giving. All these, 
 then, were they that he would have sheltered 
 under his wings as a hen her timid, filial chickens 
 — these rebels, these gross, randy ducklings, 
 wallowing in moral bog-water, or quacking 
 blatant hilarities like that grizzled immoralist 
 yonder. Then a new panic stole upon him ; 
 no longer the mere shudder of the nerves in 
 bodily solitude ; now it was grounded horror 
 and fright, as in the man of middle age when 
 first he finds his communications with the camp 
 of youth cut off behind him. " One fire drives 
 out another's burning ; " the vexations of offended 
 reason, the shiver of the sentry when the last 
 footfall of the guard leaves him to the night, 
 the tremors assailing the workman long alone
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 165 
 
 with his work, which may be so good or so bad 
 — they all began to seem like pin-pricks of 
 yesterday to one now on the point of shouting, 
 hammering, whining to be let in at a door that 
 had closed, he could not say how and when, 
 between him and all good things. 
 
 He went a little inland, over the links, a public 
 park in the rough, and sat on a bench and tried 
 to read his Warder. It was of no use. The 
 pangs of exclusion were jealous ; they wanted 
 all of him. A small, grave, responsible boy, 
 with his father's dinner-basin slung in a hand- 
 kerchief, and weightier burdens at his back, 
 stopped to rest on the bench. The distracted 
 man could no more be silent just then, even to 
 a random child, than a sailor newly marooned 
 could help waving his tragic shirt at the faintest 
 semblance of a sail. 
 
 " Do you ever read the papers, my boy ? " the 
 poor longing wretch asked, with a pitiful ex- 
 uberance of casualness, twitching the Warder on 
 his knee, by way of pleading relevance, mutely. 
 
 " Ah," the lad assented, " Saturdays, when 
 we've had supper, me and father lays on t' 
 floor ; an' mother, she reads us out t' murders 
 in t' Star of Eve"
 
 1 66 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " The murders ? I see. Anything else ? " 
 
 " Not Saturdays. Sunday mornings father 
 did use to read t' Weekly Stalwart. He warn't 
 agen a bit o' politics, 'e said — not in reason. 
 There's sense in everythink, sir, ain't there?" 
 To the young Briton political conviction was 
 already, like the drink, a thing for the sane to 
 dip into warily. 
 
 "There is," said Pinn, gravely. Was this 
 another cudgel beginning to sing about his ears ? 
 Each Weekly Stalwart was a reprint, with 
 trimmings, of the six last daily portions of 
 light and leading. Every one of those leaders 
 he had written with his heart's blood ; put it 
 at only a pint to each and the Weekly Stalwart 
 would pulse with three-quarters of a gallon. 
 "You say he used to," said Pinn, laying his 
 head on the block. " Has he stopped ? " 
 
 Down came the axe. " Ah ! " — again the 
 assentive " Ah ! " of the plebs. " He done 'is 
 bit o' that job, he 'as. Yesterday it was. 'E 
 'adn't 'ardly took 'is coat orf to t' paper, same 
 'e always did, and then ' 'Ere's out of it,' 'e says, 
 an' 'e put on 'is coat agen. ' I'm shut o' politics,' 
 'e says. ' I did use to believe they was a fair 
 fight any'ow, all in to win an' both sides tryin' ;
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 167 
 
 but they ain't,' 'e says to mother an' me ; ' 'ere's 
 this bloke as writes t' Stalwart' 'e says, 'not 
 'ittin' — not to call 'ittin' — no more'n a fly, an' 
 squared at that. An' God 'elp us,' 'e says. ' It's 
 a wicked world ; you can't put a bit on a 'orse 
 but 'e's roped, same as this 'ere bleeder writin' 
 in t' paper. 'Erbert, my boy,' 'e says, 'there 
 ain't no bony fidy anywhere,' 'e says, 'outside 
 t' murders,' and I'm to bring 'im 'ome a P'lice 
 News Saturdays, 'stead o' t' Weekly Stalwart" 
 Pinn took it all as a fully thrashed horse 
 will take a final subsidiary blow thrown in as 
 a bonus. How all occasions, he numbly felt, 
 did conspire against him. Even out of the 
 mouths of babes and sucklings, or the next 
 thing to them, was ordained consputation. The 
 boy plodded off under his fardels, leaving in his 
 wake the ravages of a Tamburlaine ; first, that 
 numbness of the creature cudgelled weary ; then, 
 again, a vivacity of torture that made the numb- 
 ness seem as kind as a past anodyne. He was 
 cut off; that was the horrible thing; he seemed 
 to be entering into a sort of death ; " For them 
 that are joined to the living there is hope" — 
 joined to the soiled, naughty, living, sustaining 
 world by even so mean an umbilical cord as
 
 168 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 Fay. Through Fay his touch on others had 
 been, at any rate, that of a live man ; while 
 it was that it might still be made the touch of 
 himself. But now — ! The marooned soul was 
 breaking down into hysterics ; it ran up and 
 down the shores of its empty islet, shrieking 
 and praying to the speck diminishing on the 
 horizon.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 " Hostess. — O Jesu, he doth it as like one of these harlotry players 
 as ever I see." 
 
 Shakspeare, King Henry IV. 
 
 PHESE commotions, of course, were within. 
 
 ■*■ All that Brumby could see, at first, as 
 he crossed the links, from the golf club's pavilion, 
 was somebody sitting, bent down, on a bench ; 
 he seemed to be doggedly reading a newspaper. 
 Which one? Brumby wondered dully. He too, 
 if not in the deep waters of despair, waded its 
 marshes. His first round of golf, since the 
 smash, was just over, and badly played too ; 
 care, that killed every life of the cat's, makes 
 short work of that volatile tint, the pink of 
 condition ; staleness was on him, so that to- 
 night he must hit, unfit, the mark he had missed 
 in the prime of good training. Then, with a 
 start, he saw it was Pinn. 
 
 The two had not met since that night of 
 
 heroic generosities. Next day the Stalwart 
 
 had made shift to fend for herself; some sort 
 
 169
 
 170 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 of jury rig was run up — enough to give Pinn 
 a bridge to walk of his own ; there is no 
 lasting comfort in ruling the waves from the 
 enemy's quarter-deck ; better a bum-boat in fee 
 simple. 
 
 Pinn looked up, but not with a start. Brumby 
 there — ? Of course he was there ; to have 
 him there, flesh and all, was not strange ; only 
 mystically natural ; it followed ; so much of 
 him, all that counted, had been there this hour 
 past, and the rest near ; importunate desire had 
 compelled it up so close to the outer verge 
 of bodily sense that to see him whole was only 
 to let go a held breath and feel again, "The 
 world is one ; yes, all of it fits." 
 
 " Too kind of you ! " Brumby pointed to 
 Pinn's Warder, the standing gruffness of his 
 manliness a little thickened by present opaque- 
 ness of spirit. 
 
 Pinn, in all the time he had sat there, had 
 read, in fact, nothing. But now a great thing 
 befell him as he lay stretched out, relaxed and 
 receptive, on the bed-like goodness of that first 
 miracle, Brumby's coming, a miracle soft and 
 warm, right and normal and as it should be, 
 like all good miracles, which are never surprises
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 171 
 
 — only completions. To get at Brumby, to 
 
 brace him up, to be sure at least that Brumby 
 
 was not back, wallowing in the mire, nay, 
 
 buying up all the mire to wallow in — tired out 
 
 with that longing, Finn threw himself down to 
 
 rest one moment on its fulfilment. Of course 
 
 it had come ; all things have rest ; no tired 
 
 day but has its evening. And then as he lay 
 
 there, open, another miracle, trailed by the 
 
 first, slipped in at some unbarred door of the 
 
 mind — a lifted, gay sense of something not 
 
 himself that was roughing out his purposes, 
 
 for him to shape to a finish, showing him, too, 
 
 how to shape them, holding his hands in place, 
 
 prompting him, taking him, while he went to 
 
 work, right out of an old, clogged world where 
 
 " Ought I ? " waited, nagging, upon " I would " ; 
 
 what he wished became in him as a child, it 
 
 was freed, it made for its end, across country ; 
 
 his spirits rose for the jumps. "The nobleness 
 
 of life is to do this," said Antony, and kissed 
 
 Cleopatra. With almost a pride in his blood, 
 
 Pinn heard some tall spirit, escaped from the 
 
 clay that had been he, answering Brumby with 
 
 effortless point. The words thrilled him ; what 
 
 life and edge the voice had !
 
 172 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " Caught out, fairly ! No denying it ! Leader 
 page, too, I'm afraid. Confound you, stealing up 
 on a man like that." It was said with a will, 
 not quite his. Speech sat in a rudderless boat, 
 or drifted down uncharted streams of strange 
 fluency, alien idiom ; it came on bluffnesses, 
 abruptnesses, ellipses foreign to him ; and he let 
 it ; resistance, long tired, was drugged ; it slept 
 on guard in a mind itself awake, aflame, like 
 capitulating sex, with a voluptuous self-sur- 
 render. "We are the clay and thou art the 
 potter," he mentally murmured, in luxury ; and 
 aloud, to Brumby, he said, " I was just buried 
 in it. 
 
 "Well, well," said Brumby, with the higher 
 sincerity that disdains the weakness of a hum- 
 bugging parade of modesty ; " if it comes to that, 
 why not ? " 
 
 " Why not ? " The gift at riot in Pinn snatched 
 up the words like a cue, a licence to flow, a 
 surface to play over. It ran on, it embroidered, 
 it frolicked out into fantasies. " Why not ? 
 That's what I keep thinking. Why not, so long 
 as, deep down" — and half of him stood off, 
 charmed, and saw its twin half lightly put hand 
 to the site of the heart in the body — " so long as,
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 173 
 
 deep down, I am true to my own creed. And 
 so I am, mind ; so I am." He drew himself up, 
 an Ajax defying the lightnings of a Zeus, even 
 in owning his presence. " Write away ; do your 
 worst ; pen of men and angels too, if you like. 
 I don't care. I'll die the Reformer I've been all 
 my life. Not that I say I don't read all you 
 write, all these days. I'll not say I'm invulner- 
 able. Only, don't think you're converting me. 
 You're not" 
 
 He paused ; not that he was gravelled ; only, 
 the fiery soul was working out its way somewhat 
 fast for its clay tenement ; he took a breather, 
 and a survey, one of the wide, slow surveys you 
 take in an infinitesimal time when the mind is at 
 the right heat, as long dreams are dreamt through 
 in a second, and stored years of consciousness 
 counted and re-packed at ease in the moment's 
 climax of a hard race, and whole lives, they say, 
 re-lived in one instant of the stir of a meeting 
 with death. So perhaps, the mind of a hare, 
 coursed the first time, may have its mood of 
 musing leisure, and stand apart, as if disinterested, 
 watching the agony, and wondering where did 
 its old acquaintance, the body, learn all these 
 wonderful doublings.
 
 174 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 But Pinn had his breath again now. "You 
 see, it's a fad of mine. Time I was at school, 
 fencing in the gym., I'd get so taken with the 
 other fellow's wrist- work that I'd drop my own 
 foil, pretty nearly, to look at him — sheer joy to 
 see a thing done well." How did he come to 
 say that ? How did he know how to ? The on- 
 looking side of him wondered. His hand had 
 no more touched foils than his soul pitch ; wrist- 
 play was not even dross to him ; it was an un- 
 dreamed dream of a dross never met with. 
 Whence this use that was given to him of 
 experience not his? Some force, he dizzily felt, 
 that was not to be judged by our earthy 
 standards, was fighting for him, in him ; thoughts 
 of his old cock-sure truthfulness made it as if 
 the sun had stood still, or the moon stayed, to 
 back him ; he shivered, jam propiore deo, with the 
 fright and delight of a lift from evidence up to 
 inspiration. 
 
 Brumby was shaken too ; no denying it. The 
 known Pinn soaping him with the known soap 
 of social commerce would have been naught, or 
 else an emetic ; this was a Pinn translated, quite a 
 decent human being, Brumby reflected amazedly, 
 not knowing how like dead leaves Nature can
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 175 
 
 make her butterflies, on one side, for their good, 
 and her grubs as green as their pasture, to keep 
 them safe, and her imperilled Pinns provisional 
 replicas of Brumbies. Besides, Pinn, to be fair 
 to him, spoke now with authority, somehow or 
 other, and not even as the mere decent human 
 being, pure and simple ; what he said seemed 
 strangely to matter, like the old Roman forecast 
 of victory — words that might have been, in your 
 common adult's mouth, mere verbiage ; weighty 
 beyond reckoning when a child of three months 
 relinquished the teat to pronounce them, or an 
 ox walked upstairs at the time and jumped out 
 of the first-floor front. Glumness was falling 
 from Brumby ; it caked and peeled off him like 
 some old casing of mud in this new sun breaking 
 on the darkness where he had sat among the 
 potsherds. 
 
 The nimble spirit that worked in Pinn 
 saw. " Mr Brumby," he said, " I see you hate 
 praise." 
 
 " I know what it is," said Brumby ; but half 
 the bitterness of the disillusioned tone was now 
 mere form, a perfunctory ground swell after the 
 real tempest of trouble. 
 
 Pinn's wits were so strung up that he all but
 
 176 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 had humour ; a gleam came ; before it passed he 
 knew the savour of Brumby's answer for the 
 palate that tells differences. He mastered a 
 happy smile. What a thing it was, this upper 
 hand. 
 
 "Just set your teeth, then," he said. "You'll 
 have to bear some, if" — he moved the Warder 
 — " you're going on like this." 
 
 " Really, I . . ." Brumby's tongue, for once, 
 failed ; indeed, no words would work, for he stood 
 nowhere long enough to use them ; his outworks 
 crumbled ; where a guard might have tried to 
 stand at one moment, at the next there was a 
 trickling slope of sand. 
 
 Pinn pressed on the good work. "You're the 
 one man, I can see, who doesn't know how you 
 have scored — to my cost, hang you ! " O earth, 
 what marvels hast thou seen? He, Pinn, said, 
 " Hang you ! " he whose pure lips, even in the 
 stormy March of life, no imprecation had soiled. 
 "Only wish I didn't know it, either!" He said 
 it with the rough, gallant ruefulness of the drubbed 
 boxer giving the drubber his hand ; and then, in 
 wonder no longer repressible at the portent of 
 the other's modesty : " My good man, surely 
 you're not deaf. Why, if you had nothing more
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 177 
 
 to go by than . . ." — he checked for one atom of 
 time, gulped down like a dram the rapture of the 
 big throw with the small purse, and then plunged 
 — "than the talk of club-rooms and people in 
 trains and men that you happen to dine with — 
 you must know." 
 
 Put it all on, said the wizard tipster at Pinn's 
 ear ; likely enough, they have told him his pen is 
 a lump of lead, like yours ; still, what matter ? 
 As easy to pluck the flower safety from the tallest 
 nettle as from the stumpiest ; easier to bleach 
 black white than dye it grey ; merely punch a 
 lion in the ribs and he will eat you, but ram your 
 head and shoulders down his throat and you may 
 choke him. " Now by my mother's son, and 
 that's myself, it shall be moon, or star, or what I 
 list," — that is the thing to say to womanish Fate, 
 at noon, and she will soon sa" r , and like saying ; 
 — "sun it is not when you say it is not, And 
 the moon changes even as your mind. What you 
 will have it named, even that it is." 
 
 Brumby was bluffed. That last, that impossible 
 
 stroke of bravura undid him. True, he snapped 
 
 savage fingers ; " Club-gossip ! " he said, " that 
 
 for it ! " But that was only a parting kick to 
 
 the thought of those others, the sorry few, as 
 12
 
 178 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 they now clearly were, his dispraisers, messing 
 with mud in their poor little backwater, out of the 
 main stream of the great world's opinion — of 
 Hedlum even, that strong and straight mind 
 warped, enfeebled at last, so vain is our human 
 strength. And the rough tone did very well to 
 express rugged modesty. 
 
 Pinn took it so. " Eh, but that's like you able 
 men. You win the bays that we poor devils, 
 who haven't it in us, spend our lives trying for, 
 and then it's ' That for 'em ! ' " Never before 
 had Pinn snapped his fingers, and yet the copy 
 was quite a good snap. " Well, go on. Wear 
 'em. Snap your fingers at 'em. Gad ! " — he said 
 " Gad ! — if I could ! I suppose " — and down the 
 scale of feeling he dropped, nobly humble, to a 
 mournful resignation — "it's try, try, try again, 
 for me." 
 
 Reassurance was flooding back, a tingling 
 warmth, gratefully stinging, into the Brumby 
 whom frost had so bitten. Like a swan that 
 rude boys have splashed he shook from his 
 plumage the late aspersion ; clean again, he 
 mantled proudly ; he repaired his beams like the 
 new day. It is a pity not to be able to find 
 figures beautiful enough to match the beauty of
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 179 
 
 this resurrection. He was now so much himself 
 that as he stepped on to the pedestal to which 
 Pinn's hand, itself wonderfully guided, led him, 
 the good fellow felt for the beaten man and 
 wanted to stoop from the height himself had 
 reoccupied, to point out good-naturedly to this 
 poor Pinn, who had certainly owned up like a 
 brick, the graciousness, the balms, the consolation 
 prizes of an honourable licking, so it be taken 
 well. " Come," he replied, quite gently and 
 kindly, " isn't that the best of all ? " 
 
 Pinn shrugged. " Little to show for it, though," 
 he said. He knew the phrase, the thought, for 
 a low Brumbyism. But when Joshua made as 
 if he were beaten, his pride had to go in his 
 pocket, to take the city of Ai ; and who was he, 
 Pinn, to stickle for his? Moral surrenders were 
 one thing, tactical sorties from the fortress of a 
 'stablished conscience were another. So Pinn 
 issued in force from that fastness, and lo ! 
 Brumby nipped in at the gates and hung 
 out a private banner that looked very odd 
 there. 
 
 " Does one," he said, with the queerest aping, 
 as Pinn felt, of moral authority, " play the man 
 to have 'something to show for it'?" Brumby
 
 180 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 was beginning to put vivacity into his perform- 
 ance of Pinn's old part, the man rooted in 
 principle. For the first kind impulse to spread 
 a mattress for Pinn to fall on had received a 
 bracing tonic in the thought that if the mattress 
 were not a good one, Pinn might think twice 
 about falling, or about lying where he fell. Black 
 arts, though scotched, were not killed ; the poor 
 wretch might in despair reinvoke Fay unless he 
 could be heartened up to do his duty in that 
 station — Humpty Dumpty's — to which he had 
 now been called. 
 
 "Oh, I'm a low beast, I daresay," said Pinn, 
 but not quite so convincingly. It began to feel 
 just a little queer, a little nervous, this manoeuv- 
 ring outside the old, comfortable moralistic 
 hold. 
 
 " I don't say that," said Brumby, leaning over 
 the castle wall, with purpose and circumspection 
 to hand down a modest ration of encouragement 
 to the tactician at his evolutions in the outer 
 dust. 
 
 " I may be a low beast," Pinn insisted ; his 
 voice had a faint sub-acidity not quite in the 
 part ; " but I do own " — it came with an effort — 
 " that it would do me good to have heard it said
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 181 
 
 I could rise to an emergency as — as you've 
 done." 
 
 He got it out, with a jolt ; the flow was gone. 
 For Pinn the divine accident was over ; for 
 Brumby it had begun ; the winds of happy 
 inspiration, now failing or spent where Pinn 
 toiled on at his feinting below, blew freshly in 
 upon Brumby's soul posted above on the un- 
 accustomed battlements of goody-goodiness and 
 charmed and pricked to do great things by a 
 sharp, sweet sense of nearness to rosy triumph 
 thorned about with a danger. "Ah!" Brumby's 
 voice put on true sublimity as he washed his 
 hands of the pomps and vanities of a writer's 
 fame, "it's not rising in that sense that matters. 
 Wait till you've tried ; you'll agree. My dear 
 sir, it's the act of striving itself, it's the act of 
 going on striving that counts ; not the prize. 
 Don't you remember" — And then, for once in 
 his life, Brumby really quoted, not from a previous 
 quoter, but from a book that he had opened the 
 day before, being accidentally left alone in a 
 room with it, and had read with manly contempt, 
 seeing unmistakeable signs that its author was 
 Radical, if not sceptical. We all know by heart 
 all that we have ever heard or read. It is only
 
 1 82 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 that tackle of various strengths and qualities is 
 needed to fish this or that up from the cellarage. 
 Brumby, worked upon as he was, recited now with 
 scarcely a stumble : — 
 
 " Great is the facile conqueror ; 
 Yet haply he who, wounded sore, 
 Breathless, unhorsed, all covered o'er 
 
 With blood and sweat, 
 Sinks foiled, but fighting evermore, 
 
 Is greater yet." 
 
 " Believe me," he said in a voice that seemed 
 to be all deepening, mellowing chords, "it's not 
 what everyone else says that counts ; what counts 
 is what you said, that night — that you'd — yes, that 
 you'd write the eyes out of your head before 
 you would put it again in any man's power to do 
 the public another such wrong. Isn't it good to 
 remember it, even now? Won't it be good, 
 twenty, forty years hence, to recall the brave 
 words that will then have moulded your life for 
 so long ? There ! " — and, in the exaltation of his 
 sense of the necessity, to him, of rectitude in 
 Pinn, he put the hand of a father, almost, on 
 Pinn's stringy deltoid — "come what come may, 
 in the way of name and fame in the world — and,
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 183 
 
 trust me, its sweetest is not so sweet, after 
 all—" 
 
 The edge of the frame may as well cut down 
 on the picture there ; the rest was bathos, flopped 
 into slowly, as the first sprightly runnings of 
 demoniac improvisation tailed off into the dying 
 drip of bad taps. Brumby, the last to inflate, 
 sagged last, but both ended flaccid, and then 
 they trailed home, tied to each other, with the 
 wine, that had been such a god in the head, now 
 a sourness on the stomach. Soon they chafed, 
 they wanted to snap ; to prevent their sore minds 
 from rubbing each other's skin off they had to 
 keep up a tricKle of lubricant verbiage on the 
 place. Pinn was to lunch with a man next day 
 at the Wigwam, Brumby's club. Good ! they 
 would meet there. Brumby was lunching there 
 too, with his nephew Dick, expected back in the 
 morning from a holiday. Brumby rather thought 
 Pinn might like the boy. More, Pinn might 
 meet at the club this man Roads who was going 
 to send them all to the workhouse with his new 
 halfpenny paper — to come out, was it next month, 
 or the end of the quarter ? 
 
 " I don't so much fear him" Pinn said, with a
 
 1 84 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 ghastly, half-hearted ogle, like a failing septua- 
 genarian flirt's, at Brumby. Brumby's leer back, 
 too, was ghastly enough. The name of the im- 
 minent rag — simply, The Paper ; it was like the 
 cheapjack's effrontery — grinned at them from the 
 Belton hoardings ; each, as he spied on the other's 
 sidelong glance at it, wondered was the tonic still 
 working with which at so sore a sacrifice — so it 
 seemed now — he had tried to brace up a brother's 
 infirmity. Pinn, in whom morality was the more 
 importunate, had a stuck, aghast sense of all he 
 had suffered out there on the bench while that 
 foul man-of-the-world jargon was being pattered 
 by someone no longer definable now except as 
 him, Pinn, simply him. Enough of this self- 
 injury ! Things must take their course ; no more 
 breaches, whatever happened, in the ring-fence 
 of self-respect. 
 
 Pinn went round the whole of that battered 
 paling, inside it, again and again, all the evening, 
 raging at the gap the day's hideous accident 
 had made, and aching for the chance of where- 
 withal to mend it. Fortune, he felt, had some 
 bowels left when, latish that night, his chief sub- 
 editor, Dowdon, to whom the tabooing of Fay 
 was not known, just stepped in to say that the
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 185 
 
 critic who was to have noticed the Blumenthal 
 Concert that evening had sent word of ill- 
 ness. 
 
 " So, when I found you were not at your 
 house, I sent off the tickets by hand at 
 once to Mr Moloney's — I felt pretty sure you 
 would wish that done — and the notice has just 
 come in." 
 
 Poor Dowdon, a Diamond who knew not what 
 he had done, held out some typed sheets. The 
 man was pathetic in his eager and humble hope 
 of praise for promptitude in emergency. 
 
 Finn was not a brute, to bash in the upraised 
 innocent face of that hope. "Thank you," he 
 said, "you did your best in the circumstances." 
 He would tell Dowdon, later, as much as was 
 needed, to guard against blunders like this. 
 
 Dowdon went out, leaving the notice. Pinn, 
 eyeing it where it lay, made a grimace as of 
 nausea, a touch of symbolic action strange in the 
 literal man ; then, with a strained, self-forcing 
 impulse, a kind of hard-pumped spontaneity, he 
 jumped up to go for the tongs with which to 
 commit the foul thing to the fire, keeping his 
 fingers unsoiled by its contact. There was a 
 clock over the fire. Could it have stopped ? No,
 
 1 86 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 it was going. So, then, it was only half-past 
 ten. That concert could not have ended till ten 
 at the earliest. What a journalist that ruffian 
 was ! — and, no doubt, quite a long notice, too ; 
 Pinn glanced at its length, forgetting the tongs. 
 Yes nearly a column, just the right length for 
 this, the chief thing of its kind in the year, and 
 the one of which, more than all others, a full 
 review would be looked for in the Stalwart. 
 Competent too, in its way, in all probability ; 
 yes, two minutes' reading showed that ; the 
 sovereign equity of Pinn's mind allowed that the 
 " copy " was perfect. He mused, mournfully : 
 
 " O Hero, what a Hero thou hadst been 
 If half thy outward graces had been placed 
 About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart." 
 
 Quoting might not be his line, but that was 
 the run of his thought. And then, again, there 
 came guidance, not the wrecker's flare that had 
 led him at Belton, but this time, he felt, an 
 authentic light of reason's Trinity House. After 
 all, what we must go by is facts, the thing as it 
 is, the act, not the motive — leave God to look 
 after that. Of what use, either, to mix up things 
 different by nature? Politics are politics and
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 187 
 
 music music ; a paper's aim should be simply its 
 readers' good, the next day, not the sparing of 
 pain to its editor now, to-night. A course might 
 be galling, and yet be right. With a stern hand 
 he thrust self aside, and initialled the copy.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 "When men are thus combined for their own improvement, 
 or for the good of others, or at least to relax themselves from 
 the business of the day, by an innocent and cheerful conversation, 
 there may be something very useful in these little institutions and 
 establishments." 
 
 Addison, on Clubs, Spectator, No. 9. 
 
 nrHE Wigwam Club meets the needs of 
 
 ■*■ the man who cares for the things of 
 
 the mind, but not for the cool soup, with 
 
 a shining and wrinkling skin, that too often 
 
 attends them. Politicians may join — Brumby 
 
 has always loved it — but not as politicians ; 
 
 mere dervishes of party have desolate places 
 
 of their own to howl in — the Liberal Club 
 
 and the Halland Carlton. Blood and wealth, 
 
 if that and no more, lunch at Brett's. For 
 
 the husks that the ruck of Bohemians do eat 
 
 you can go to the Four Arts ; the Wigwam's 
 
 subscription winnows away with a powerful fan 
 
 the painter, musician, or actor, too light in 
 
 188
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 189 
 
 the purse to be quite safe to do with. The 
 club has no billiard - table, no special card- 
 room, even, to tie the straining soul to the 
 earth ; only a big dining-room and a huge 
 smoke-room, where, just after luncheon, young 
 members feel that now they know what it was 
 like at the Mermaid. Yet the best is loved 
 sanely ; the ideal banner floats high, but the 
 fort is reason's ; not a wine on the list is really 
 bad, and the boot-boy has a strain of genius ; 
 Brumby, who liked to be neat, and who had 
 to sit much in the front row on public plat- 
 forms, with his boots in the reporters' hair, 
 hung, as it were, on the line before the dis- 
 engaged eyes of thousands, would often wash 
 at the Carlton — the place where you wash at 
 the Carlton is one of the most distinguished 
 in Europe — and then step across to the Wig- 
 wam to have his boots polished. Fay called 
 the practice Scriptural. " Moab," he would quote, 
 " is my wash-pot ; over Edom will I cast forth 
 my shoe." For Fay had joined the club too, 
 finding that Pinn had not. 
 
 In the smoking-room three generations of level 
 business heads and sterling professional men had 
 learnt at first hand from three generations of
 
 i 9 o A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 capable actors, on tour, the blackness of the 
 critics' hearts, and had laid in raw material for 
 talk that has thrilled whole suburbs with delicious 
 shivers of contact with queer, remote worlds, of 
 outlandish brilliancy. In one arm-chair Kelson, 
 the Halland portrait painter, whose too early 
 death was held by many sound judges in the 
 club to have delivered Mr Sargent from a situa- 
 tion full of menace, had compassed that work 
 of rescue by giving the rein for three years 
 to his preference for green to yellow Chartreuse ; 
 from another, Bob Burton, the Halland dialect 
 poet, now with Burns, had touched all by the 
 grace of his bow to Fortune's draw in the lottery 
 that lifts one dialect poet — Burns, to go no 
 further — aloft, and depresses another to the dust. 
 You know what a hit was made last spring by 
 Mr Tom May's Biblical triptych, "Gadarene 
 Demoniacs," shown in New Bond Street in a 
 room devotionally dark, with the dealer's men 
 breaking its message to you in awed whispers 
 and staring if you kept your hat on — a piece 
 reverent in its perception of Gospel truth, yet 
 fully abreast of the van of serious study of in- 
 sanity ; it inspired Father Vernon Baughan, 
 known in the evening press as the live preacher
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 191 
 
 from Halland, with his almost equally famous 
 sermon on the text — 
 
 " Let knowledge grow from more to more, 
 Yet more of reverence in us dwell." 
 
 Well, that picture, under its earlier and, as 
 I think, less perfectly happy name of " Lunacy's 
 Progress, or Down a Steep Place," was actually 
 conceived in the Wigwam smoking-room, in talk 
 with Hutton, a young alienist much liked in 
 the club, and Curtin, then manager of the 
 Theatre Royal, who had long thought that 
 more might be done with lime-light to give a 
 haunting quality to the painted eye. In another 
 field Canon Hawkes' book of meditations, The 
 Rock: Some Aids to Limpets, is a part of 
 the Wigwam's gift to English life. Member- 
 ship was, in Brumby's word, a hall-mark ; in 
 Hedlum's, a cachet. " Matthew Arnold ? Matthew 
 Arnold?" a member once said in reply to 
 another, on 'Change, " I don't think I know Mr 
 Arnold. Is he a member of the Wigwam 
 Club?" 
 
 One of the latest pieces of precious metal to 
 receive this imprint was George Roads, a printer's 
 boy at the Warder office in the last years of
 
 192 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 Brumby's father, when Early Worm was at his 
 noon of fame as its racing prophet. Roads, 
 with the quick wit of youth, perceived that it 
 was well to send word of the Worm's golden 
 truths, as soon as he saw them in writing each 
 night, to friends of his own, and, through them, 
 to other friends, or clients of theirs, persons in 
 haste to be rich, who could thus put their money 
 on the seer's tips before their issue to the whole 
 world harmfully shortened the odds. A paper 
 pellet dropped from a lavatory window to a 
 partner operating from the footpath was the 
 entire plant of this first modest enterprise. 
 Roads, distrusting human wisdom, backed no 
 horses himself; a tithe of the gains of his 
 friends' friends, when they gained, met his few 
 needs, and left so much over that when the 
 leak, as it was coarsely called at the office, was 
 stopped, he set up a tiny tipster's sheet of his 
 own, drew the gifted Worm away from the 
 Warder's service, and had a few thousands put 
 by before a trade rival had the face to give 
 out that the prophet — the man all eyes, as the 
 world thought, on the training-grounds at dawn 
 — had been for some thirty years strictly re- 
 cumbent in a spinal hospital. Strictly speaking,
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 193 
 
 he had, and so little are the higher kinds of 
 vision understood by the vulgar that Roads' 
 All the Morning Gallops paled from that hour 
 and at last faded from the earth. 
 
 It was only now, when, with a head bloody 
 but unbowed under the strokes of brute fate, 
 Roads was thrown back upon thought, that he 
 seized, in all its length, breadth and possible 
 extensions, the fact that the cruel law against 
 gambling was just as full of holes as a net. 
 From the fair and unpolluted flesh of All the 
 Morning Gallops sprang that fragrant violet, 
 the Weekly Eye-Opener, a penny ticket of ad- 
 mission, somewhat swollen with advertisements 
 and the divorces of the week previous, to weekly 
 trials of mental skill in finding out the first 
 letter of its own name. If more than one 
 intellect pierced to the W, the prize fell to him 
 whose envelope was opened first, there being 
 really no surer way of discriminating between 
 the supreme achievement and those others that 
 seemed scarcely lower. Everything Roads 
 touched seemed blessed. In two months the 
 staff of the nearest post-office had to be 
 doubled ; in six it was trebled ; one short, 
 
 happy year, and then a jaundiced Govern- 
 '3
 
 194 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 ment caulked up the hole in the law, and the 
 Weekly Eye-Opener slept with All the Morning 
 Gallops. 
 
 No weak wailing soiled Roads' lips ; he 
 deplored, it is true, an Act which, as he said 
 in his original way, must sap the springs of 
 self-control in the individual ; but he would not, 
 like that second-rate person Coriolanus, fight 
 against his cankered country ; she was for 
 higher uses. Going on, with £150,000 in pocket, 
 from strength to strength, he founded a daily 
 paper, not for talented people and sportsmen 
 only, but for everybody. Soon he had two — 
 one in a Scotch city, one in an English ; each, 
 when opened, undoubtedly gave you a more 
 poignant first sense of the appalling or intoxi- 
 cating character of yesterday than any of the 
 older journals offered for double the money. 
 You might often think, from the way those 
 niggards fubbed off their customers, that nothing 
 seismic or cataclysmic at all had happened for 
 twenty-four hours. Roads resented this slander 
 on the richness, the diversity of life ; no day 
 but, as his paper showed, England was slapped 
 in the face by somebody, somewhere ; no day 
 but he rolled up Britannia's sleeve and said,
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 195 
 
 " Feel that biceps ! " It kept your blood nicely 
 on the boil. New worlds, too, came in to cover 
 the bald places of the old ; and our mother 
 England's broken and precarious flow of murders 
 and connubial convulsions worth reporting was 
 replenished from a score of tributary rills in 
 Paris, Brussels, Vienna and Melbourne ; the 
 lusts of New York and the homicides of Cali- 
 fornia enriched for the first time the sacred 
 home life of English families at their next 
 morning's breakfast. 
 
 Even then, what vast resources were untapped ? 
 Roads' thoughts would rest sometimes with awe 
 and gratitude on the universe's fathomless reserves 
 of spicy copy, or the makings of it — the vernal 
 frailties of Esquimaux, the marriage-by-capture 
 of the Khonds, ritualistic amorism in Bengal — 
 none of them yet on the wire ; he doated upon 
 them as farmers will doat on rich tracts of virgin 
 soil, not yet touched with the plough, or engineers 
 on unharnessed Niagaras. And why two papers 
 only? Why not others made after their image, 
 enough to dot the whole island, freeze all the 
 old fossils out of the trade, and leave Roads 
 established as the Briton's sole window of outlook 
 <jii the world ?
 
 196 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 Halland stood next upon Roads' list for the 
 receipt of this happiness. He had been here 
 six months, equipping an office, priming news- 
 agents, recruiting, as he put it, a smart, live 
 staff; and, lately, dictating the advertisements of 
 the coming birth ; they stated frankly how many 
 tons of paper per week would be used, and 
 whence the wood-pulp for it was shipped ; the 
 measurements of the piston, driving-wheel and 
 some other salient parts of the engine by 
 which its early edition would be sped to the 
 expectant arms of the extreme north, with a 
 brief memoir of the engine-driver and a very 
 fair portrait of his mother. Everywhere the 
 strong, clear sense of the man, his love of the 
 practical, the concrete, was felt. 
 
 The effect on a hard-headed business com- 
 munity was unquestionably great. At the 
 Wigwam Roads was the rage ; a Halland lad 
 who had gone forth, as he owned, " on his uppers," 
 he came again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves 
 with him, in fact holding them out with both 
 hands, and the club rejoiced with him that re- 
 joiced ; they found him jannock ; loyal clay, 
 he disdained not the pit he was digged from ; 
 men liked to sit round him, drawing him out ;
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 197 
 
 they called him " Stink o' brass," fondly ; and 
 he liked to be drawn ; he was great on his dead 
 selves, stepping - stones to the higher things 
 reached since ; they were reverently preserved, 
 redecorated, opened to the public, like other relics 
 of the past in good hands. 
 
 Roads would make no mystery of the future, 
 either ; half his talk was of what to do next ; he 
 hoped aloud ; peck at it who might, he wore 
 his simple faith on his sleeve, or one even simpler. 
 What some of us see by gleams, or as in a glass, 
 darkly — the tactical uses of guilelessness in a 
 world of over-done guile — he knew through and 
 through. Craft and subtlety he had tried ; they 
 were as fine silver ; but candour was golden ; 
 nothing threw others so thoroughly out of their 
 reckoning ; you went ahead with the deal while 
 they puzzled away to make out which lie you 
 were telling, of all that were open. Courtiers 
 and parasites, Roads noticed, constantly fail by 
 refining ; they think too well of the prey ; old 
 saws, untested by practice, terrorise them, as if 
 every bird that is avian, or human either, were 
 not in a fret to be poking about any net that 
 you set in its sight. " I'm here for what I can 
 get," was Roads' refrain while he "bested" a
 
 198 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 friend ; at such times you would think him the 
 genius of greed, except that he gave you his 
 word for it. " I don't come to town for my 
 health," he would say, as he called you up to be 
 taxed, till you almost wondered if he didn't. 
 It seemed half fun to pay up; at anyrate not 
 the ordinary defeat by a pitiful fellow-scrambler ; 
 men liked coming in to be sheared that way, 
 and Roads too, from his end of the shears, liked 
 it — not to be rich only, but to king it, to take 
 as if doing a favour, to secure meat with honour. 
 No mere maggot skulking in the cheese, but a 
 first-rate beast of prey, with the world of business 
 for a jungle, he ranged it royally, with a fine, 
 flamboyant, blackguard geniality, at his best, 
 perhaps, when some crew of mediocre rogues 
 would tackle him ; then you saw greatness ; not 
 merely that he " did them " ; he did them blithely, 
 jocundly, jesting and whistling by the way as 
 Cyrano would improvise a ballad while pinking 
 a minor swaggerer. 
 
 For all the irons Roads had in the fire, he 
 seemed to have infinite leisure. That is to say, 
 he could organise ; he knew that for every defin- 
 able and recurrent job he had to do he could 
 find a man to do it, not too dear ; thus he was
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 199 
 
 everlastingly being set free from piece after piece 
 of the routine work of raking his own winnings 
 in for himself. So, to-day, the morning after 
 the descent of the spirit on Brumby and Pinn at 
 Belton, Roads was one of the first men in at the 
 club. It was scarcely past mid-day. Hedlum, 
 usually no morning idler in club-rooms, was 
 writing notes at a table by the wall ; four 
 devotees were, after a snatched night's sleep, 
 recommencing bridge. Three other men, in 
 armchairs, sat on various points of their spines ; 
 one eyeing the clock as its big hand slowly 
 rounded to luncheon-time, another, cropful from 
 a late breakfast, watching from between closing 
 eyelids the perpetual drift of people on tram-tops 
 across the windows ; double windows, with the 
 lower half of each opaque ; the seated figures 
 drifted and drifted across as if in space, noise- 
 lessly, like fish swimming round and round a 
 glass-sided aquarium, a soundless, mesmeric sight 
 to doze on. The third man was Hewlitt, 
 our friend of the train, now scudding alertly 
 through the papers. Yesterday's talk had 
 quickened his glance at both Warder and 
 Stalwart. 
 
 Roads was the man to draw, always ; here
 
 200 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 was the thing to draw him. "Stink o' brass," 
 Hewlitt began, inoffensively. 
 
 "Sir?" said Roads, undispleased. 
 
 "Remembering that you're on your oath, has 
 anything about your destined prey " — a dis- 
 hevelled Warder and Stalwart were indicated — 
 " struck you of late ? " 
 
 " Still at it, ain't they ? " 
 
 " At what ? " 
 
 " Readying folk to read anything else they 
 can get, to be rid of 'em. Bless you, these old 
 party papers ! Party ! Good Lord ! " 
 
 " ' Party ! ' says Burke, ' is—' " 
 
 " Burke ! I daresay. Some Fenian. Tell you, 
 the thing's played out. Why, look about you ; 
 take a business man, average business man. 
 He's got no party ; not such a fool. He's fluid, 
 not frozen all up. First this way a bit, then 
 that way a bit — that's him. And d'you tell me 
 he doesn't get up, every morning, fair itching to 
 be rubbed a way no paper in this place has ever 
 rubbed him yet? Kept in touch with — that's 
 what he wants to be." 
 
 " What's ' kept in touch with ' ? " 
 
 "Told he's right." Roads' audience grew; his 
 audiences had a way of growing. The bridge-
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 201 
 
 players paused at the end of a rubber. Hedlum, 
 with suspended pen, looked up from his letters, 
 watching the case, with a brief for current 
 morality. The other two men's eyes had already 
 wandered from the clock and the biographed 
 procession of tram-fares. " What would you 
 pay," Roads pursued, with a corresponding 
 rise of voice, " to be told, first thing when you 
 got down to breakfast, you were drunk last night, 
 or you revoked, or ate with a knife, or something ? 
 That's what they call the game, I s'pose, these 
 party papers. Why, look at that last war. Do 
 folks really want to be told a war's wrong when 
 their blood's up? Or right, a year after, when 
 they're sick of it ? That's what they do, between 
 'em, these papers — blackguard their own customer, 
 turn about ; soon as one shift knocks off work 
 at saying the country's a fool, t'other'll come 
 on." 
 
 " What if it is though ? " said the man of the 
 late breakfast, embittered by conflict with its 
 ingredients. 
 
 " Half the time," appended Hewlitt, as a loyal 
 Liberal. 
 
 "If?" Roads derided. "There's no 'if.' A 
 fool half the time — of course it is. That's Nature.
 
 202 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 See here." He drew in his chair a few inches, 
 rested his elbows on his knees, and leant forward 
 cogently. " Don't the tide run down half its 
 time? Yes. Nature again. And, take my 
 word, you'll soon see every mill in England run 
 with power got out of the tides. And d'you 
 tell me there's any man will say he's above 
 using 'em, except they run only one way ? 
 He'll tell the ebb he don't hold with ebbs, will 
 he? Tell the flow it's money's dirty, will he? 
 Not a man with a mill. Well — " 
 
 "But, my dear Stink o' brass," Hewlitt tried 
 to get in. 
 
 "Pardon me." Roads, now in spate, whirled 
 away the obstacle. " Ain't there ebb and flow 
 in folk's minds, and high-water marks and low- 
 water marks, and any quantity of tides — tides of 
 sense and pluck and taste and whatever you 
 call it — washing up and down between 'em, fair 
 aching to be put to work ? " 
 
 "By being — ?" Hedlum majestically asked. 
 He had come nearer. 
 
 "Kept in touch with, simply kept in touch 
 with." 
 
 "Told they're right, you know," Hewlitt in- 
 terpreted to Hedlum.
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 203 
 
 " And why not ? " Roads looked round, 
 challenging disapprobation. No one answered 
 for a moment. When a great positiveness comes 
 along like a train, one retires uncritically to the 
 six-foot way. Perhaps the positive person has 
 really got hold of something ; he has momentum 
 anyhow. Hedlum, with a governed, indeter- 
 minate smile, and looking as if the whole session 
 were in his charge, waited for some stream of 
 tendency in the general mind to declare 
 itself. 
 
 Hewlitt was the first to resume an individuality. 
 " But, my dear chap, some of them ! " He 
 shrugged an estimate, thinking of the war days 
 and a press squealing, in the rear, for the kill- 
 ing of prisoners. 
 
 Roads turned on him. Some? Which? If 
 you tell me that any one of them's unclean or 
 common, I say you're not my sort of Christian, 
 and if you wouldn't let it turn a wheel for you 
 I say you shouldn't be in business." 
 
 " Yes, yes, my dear sir," said Hedlum cautiously, 
 in his jury-directing voice, kindly and wise, 
 " business is business, we all know, but is 
 it ever really business to make terms with 
 evil?"
 
 204 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " Not business ? Not ? — to bring good out of 
 evil ? " Roads broke out into a little blaze of 
 moral fervour that took the colour sadly out of 
 the more mellow beauty of Hedlum's mind. 
 " Now, I'll tell you something. There's towns, 
 English towns, that light the streets with the 
 muck in their dust-holes. That's wrong, is it ? 
 Look at the crops on sewage farms — none to 
 touch 'em. That ain't business, ain't it ? Do 
 you tell me the rot in people's heads has got to 
 be the only rot that nothing's to be made 
 of?" 
 
 " If people were to say, some time," the 
 non-moralising, speculative voice of Dick came 
 in — like several others he had joined the 
 outer circle round the teacher of practical 
 wisdom — " was it a good thing we gave up 
 acorns ? " 
 
 " Let 'em," said Roads. But he liked this 
 line less. It made him uneasy, somehow. Only, 
 he would not weaken. 
 
 " — or that we took to walking on our hind- 
 legs?" the meditative and unprotesting voice of 
 Dick pursued. 
 
 " Where will your paper be then ? " cut in 
 Hewlitt, surveying vantage.
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 205 
 
 " Oh, we'll be there," Roads said, not quite so 
 triumphantly. 
 
 "Yelling for the good old diet," Hewlitt 
 laughed. " ( Made us the men we are,' 
 hey ? " 
 
 " It's not so bad, that," Roads allowed. 
 
 '"All fours and no affectations' — goodish head- 
 line that, hey ? " 
 
 " You'll see worse," said Roads. 
 
 " I was thinking," Dick went on, as if alone 
 with some other fellow-voyager on seas of 
 surmise, " if all the papers said it was a 
 good plan, nearly everyone might go and do 
 it." 
 
 Roads had recovered. "Eh, but that's like a 
 young man," he said, fathering Dick, "you're 
 all so tall you fear you'll knock the stars right 
 out of the sky if you start moving. Don't 
 mind me ; you'll learn ; you're not like 
 damned old prigs, the sort this Pinn must 
 be." 
 
 From near the door, some thirty feet off, 
 there came the agonised squeak of a chair driven 
 back an inch convulsively on a polished floor. 
 It was five minutes since Pinn, a figure unknown 
 by name to them all, had come in, convoyed
 
 206 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 by his host Bliss, most innocent of fogeys, the 
 Good Goose, as his friends called him, puffing 
 happily as he showed the club of his heart. 
 "Just the two rooms you see; we're plain 
 people here ; just the two rooms and a tiny 
 snuggery, across there, for letter-writing, when 
 you need quiet." 
 
 "Charming, charming," Pinn had said. Would 
 he make himself at home here for a bare five 
 minutes, while Bliss answered a telephone call 
 in the lobby? Yes, Pinn would write a note, if 
 he might ; there was a writing-table near them ; 
 he moved towards it. 
 
 "Sure you wouldn't rather — ?" Bliss had 
 nodded across towards the snuggery door. 
 " No talk, you know, in there, to bother 
 you." 
 
 " Sweet human converse, my dear sir, sweet 
 human converse," the lover of man as a whole 
 had answered austerely. " Can any right strain 
 of thought have a worthier obbligato?" The 
 metaphor was a used one of Fay's, without 
 Fay's irony. Pinn forgot this. Feeling nobler 
 for having minted a noble truth, to send Bliss 
 away with, he plunged into his writing, catching 
 nothing articulate from the talkers in the
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 207 
 
 middle of the room until Roads' rising voice 
 stabbed his ear with his own name and that 
 ribaldry. The first furious start of nerves 
 raw before, and now brutally jarred, was not 
 to be helped. But that was all. He drew in 
 his chair, again, quietly. He found he wanted 
 to hear the thing out. He subsided over his 
 blotter. 
 
 " Oh, come," Hewlitt had answered. Thank 
 God, Pinn felt, there was one just man in this 
 sink, anyhow. He seemed to know the voice, 
 too, but was not sure. 
 
 " D'you defend him ? " Roads answered. " D'you 
 defend the stuff he writes ? " 
 
 " Which stuff he writes ? " 
 
 " Why, any blessed bit of it. Take to-day's 
 leader, if you like." 
 
 " I don't know that that's his." 
 
 " Yesterday's ? Saturday's ? Day before that ? 
 Take your choice. D'you mean to say, upon 
 your dying oath, that you can stand a single 
 blessed one of 'em ? " 
 
 " Albert ! " Hewlitt called to a bucolic-looking 
 boy, all chest, haunches and serried buttons, who 
 circulated among the little tables, emptying ash- 
 trays and re-folding papers left in disorder. While
 
 208 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 Albert, at Hewlitt's instructions, was fetching 
 a paper from a file kept in a press at the further 
 end of the room, Hewlitt said, " The fact is, I've 
 not traced, all last week, what I understand to be 
 Pinn's own hand, or his hand at its best. Just 
 listen to this, though." He took from Albert 
 the paper sent for, opened it composedly and 
 folded the leader page to read. " I'll merely 
 read you out the last paragraph of what seems 
 to me simply an average specimen of Pinn's 
 work — no more." 
 
 At this moment there was perfect quiet ; the 
 words now read out came to Pinn as audible 
 as a jury foreman's to the man in the dock. 
 
 " ' Enough has been said to leave no doubt as to the 
 nature and the importance of the issue at stake — ' " 
 
 '" Ah," said Hedlum, with a sigh of happy recog- 
 nition. " Go on ; go on." 
 
 " ' — and we are loth to add even one word that might 
 seem to travel beyond the cardinal question of fact, and 
 in the direction of personalities.' " 
 
 " Oh, it's the right way to get agate of slanging 
 anyone, I'm not denying," Roads said, grudging 
 the credit, but also mindful of his own good
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 209 
 
 name as a connoisseur of invective. Hewlitt 
 read on : 
 
 " ' But there is one sign of the times that thoughtful 
 men will not ignore. We could not, whatever we might 
 wish, overlook the evidences of a growing dismay in the 
 enemy's camp — ' " 
 
 " Oh, he's got the turns all right," said Roads, 
 still reluctantly concessive. Hewlitt went on : 
 
 " ' — in the enemy's camp — or should we say camps ? ' " 
 
 Roads gave a little laugh, less reluctant. " You 
 know, that's rather witty, that bit, with the other 
 lot split up the way they are. ' Enemy's camps — ' 
 it ain't so bad that." He looked round, more 
 generously appreciative. Hedlum's sound sense 
 of humour, too, had kindled at the flash of a 
 sterling, wholesome, recognisable wit. Hewlitt 
 read on : 
 
 " ' It would be idle to affect blindness to these 
 current proofs that in the opinion of their leaders 
 the game is already up. They labour under an uneasy 
 apprehension of the fact that in their eagerness to 
 secure a tactical success they have been slowly but 
 steadily and at last completely falling out of touch with 
 all that is best in public opinion.'" 
 
 " Oh, yes, he has the swing of it," Roads said,
 
 2io A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 cordially enough. Hewlitt read on, yet more 
 sonorously. Albert, who now came in* as if to 
 announce something, approached, but waited to 
 speak until the reading should end. As Hewlitt 
 read on, Albert began visibly to listen, his mouth 
 falling open and a foolish smile coming on it, 
 while his body rocked slightly to the lumbering 
 tune of Fay's periods ; it was like the luxurious 
 swaying of a pig against the ferrule of the stick 
 you scratch its back with. Roads noticed. The 
 sight of the boy's symptoms confirmed, in its 
 degree, his own gusto for the heavy melody. 
 
 " ' Absorbed in the satisfaction of perfecting what they 
 believed to be original and effective methods of dis- 
 paraging the holders of opinions which they do not 
 share, they have insensibly forfeited the respect and 
 regard which our people never fail to pay to any sincere 
 and unselfish endeavour, however ill - conceived or 
 ill-directed, to serve the common good. Mistaking 
 venom of personal attack for argumentative cogency, 
 relying on so-called trends of public opinion which 
 in fact are nothing but the purest figments of the 
 wire-puller,'s fancy, overrating habitually and deplorably 
 the credulity of a public which, after all, is composed of 
 sane men and Englishmen — ' " 
 
 " Come, that's the patriotic touch, all right," 
 Roads interjected, handsomely. Pinn had turned
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 211 
 
 half-round, to hear better. He saw better too, 
 and the sight of Fay's simple medicine working 
 its wonders on those diverse samples of the great 
 public — Hedlum the rounded-off man of the 
 world, mellowly sane as brown wheat, gazing 
 rapt into its shallow and showy moderation as 
 into a mirror ; Hewlitt, the sterling party trooper, 
 stirred to his depths by its parade of seriousness ; 
 Albert, the honest yokel, marching in spirit to 
 the tramping, booming trombone music ; Roads, 
 the counning trader, hit between wind and water 
 by the aptness of it all to all these states of the 
 general mind — the sight was a great one, even 
 if you did not know that this moving glove-fit 
 of comment for Lord Albry's speech was but 
 last year's unworn vesture of the crisis of the 
 misbuilt drain. But the first bars of a final 
 cadence were audible in Hewlitt's voice: 
 
 " ' — Englishmen, they have stumbled on through the 
 miry places of latter day controversy till at last they 
 have plunged over head and ears in a moral slough of 
 their own making. There we leave them.' " 
 
 "That's it," Roads said^as if in thought, " ease 
 her off and end up tranquil." 
 
 " Well ?" Hewlitt asked, triumphant, insistent.
 
 212 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " Well," said Roads, " if the man Finn can keep 
 up to that, his rag may die kicking. I say, 
 though, old man, are you sure that . . . eh ? " 
 
 " That what ? " Hewlitt asked. 
 
 "Yo can go oop," Albert broke in, being now 
 disentranced. This was a formula of his, much 
 valued and looked out for in the club since his 
 first arrival some days before, for announcing that 
 a meal was ready. 
 
 " What ! " said some fine nature, who did not 
 know. 
 
 " Yo can start," Albert explained, and went out. 
 
 "That's a fresh young savage," Roads said, 
 pleasantly. 
 
 " Why they ever lassooed him beats me," said 
 the man whose sensibility had received the bruise. 
 
 " They did right," Roads rejoined thoughtfully. 
 "The boy's a sample. He's an unspoilt, virgin, 
 country mind. Three weeks ago he was spitting 
 over a bridge with his peers, out there in Arcady 
 — ain't that the word ? — of a Sunday afternoon. 
 What fetches him will fetch all rural England." 
 
 " You were going to say — ? " Hewlitt asked. 
 "About Pinn, you remember?" 
 
 " Oh, yes. Are you so sure that it was he that 
 wrote it ? "
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 213 
 
 They were all, except Pinn and Dick, streaming 
 out at the door to go up to lunch, as Roads spoke, 
 and in spite of the happy loosing of tongues as 
 the hungry men drew to their meat, the words 
 were as clear to Pinn, in his seat by the door, as to 
 Hewlitt himself.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 " Nothing of him that doth fade, 
 But doth suffer a sea change 
 Into something rich and strange." 
 
 Shakspeare 
 
 r~\ICK had something to look up. For he was 
 ■*— puzzled ; his uncle had not cut him off, this 
 morning, on seeing him back ; the reverse. 
 " What ! You, my boy ! " Brumby had exclaimed 
 with no crack in the fair, round, bellying note that 
 these bonifacial natures emit, even in trouble, at 
 sight of a face they are glad of. 
 
 "Yes, I'm back," Dick had said, to the tune of 
 " Let's get it over." 
 
 " Good time, eh ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," Dick had answered dismissively. 
 That was not it. 
 
 " Well, you deserve it. Own up — Oh, I know 
 how you slate your own work, but own up, just 
 for once — didn't it just do you good to read that 
 stuff of yours next day in the paper ? " 
 
 " Mine ? " 
 
 "A fine thing, but mine own." It was queer 
 
 314
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 215 
 
 how this new way of quoting things, chipping 
 bits off them, or sticking a new bit in, to make 
 them fit, would grow on a man ; Brumby winced 
 at the sound of himself as if he had turned a 
 coach-wheel in the street and caught sight of the 
 act in a plate-glass window. " I refer, of course, 
 to your exceedingly scholarly and discriminat- 
 ing critique of the Mountain Painters' Exhibition," 
 he added, heading back to the safe, sound old 
 jargon of the business. 
 
 Dick gaped. " Read it ? In the paper ? " 
 His uncle laid on Dick's shoulder the hand of 
 an approbation only the warmer. " Able and 
 modest too ! Quite right ! Dick " — he massaged 
 the praise into the reluctant shoulder with a firm, 
 feeling grasp — " it was a first-rate job you made 
 of it — the first quite first-rate job you've made of 
 anything." 
 
 Dick's mind jumped across and back between 
 conceivable explanations ; none did to stand on 
 for long. " Why, how on earth," he asked, perch- 
 ing on one for an instant, " did you come to see 
 it, sir?" 
 
 " It's a free country, Dick. Editors, even, may 
 read their own papers. There, there, blush but 
 hear me — " Mountebanking again with the words !
 
 216 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 A twinge traversed him. He steadied. " Seriously, 
 my dear boy, that notice was as thoroughly 
 balanced, as mature in judgment, as competent in 
 point both of technical knowledge and of literary 
 finish as " — the emphasis soared up climactically 
 — " as the work of many an old journalistic hand." 
 
 " Uncle," Dick began, to no purpose. He was 
 silenced, bundled out good-humouredly ; Brumby 
 was busy ; Dick had better cool his bashfulness 
 outside ; or, let Dick go on ahead to the club and 
 not put off luncheon if Brumby were late ; perhaps 
 he might not come at all ; he was frightfully busy. 
 
 So Dick, alone in the big club room with the 
 unknown Finn, bade the boy fetch the Warder of 
 Wednesday week, when the birth-strangled babe 
 should have lived ; and Pinn, as he heard the order 
 to Albert, wondered had no one in Halland anything 
 left to do but to keep that day's papers scraping 
 and grating in contrast against all the ones that 
 had followed. 
 
 When the paper came, Dick found the place, 
 read a line, marvelled, read a few more, and knew 
 all about it. How could he not ? Fay had 
 tumbled out under his nose, that night, this dust- 
 cart's load of old rags ; Dick knew at once the 
 tags that lay uppermost. So it was Fay's
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 217 
 
 comedy ; Fay that had cast him for the part of 
 the goose that the clown rescued. Dick, had he 
 not been Dick, might have raged ; had he been 
 yet more un - Dick - like, he might have been 
 touched. Neither feeling came ; only, at first, a 
 finished idea of his uncle, the master journalist, the 
 expert, the public's analyst, for whom this refuse 
 of Fay's was pure gold. Not that Dick saw any 
 sin in it all ; rather, a strange way of going with- 
 out what had savour, like giving up salt. To fit 
 word on thought — no ; to say this made two 
 things of them — but to hold the thought, to force 
 it up and up the scale of clarity to where it and 
 some unsought word rushed together and a new 
 thing came to life, as when Adam first spoke — to 
 Dick this was the great, the one game ; the gift of 
 speech might have only come in last night ; there 
 he was, at his first day's fun with it, wild in love 
 with all that the living, limitless thing might work 
 out to. 
 
 Had you, who so love the drama, come on the 
 cook, at her fell work, who burnt seven of 
 Massinger's plays, the only copies, leaf by leaf, as 
 shields to pie - crust, Dick's thought might be 
 clearer to you, Of course he had seen speech 
 dead before ; the corpse lies about, in everyone's
 
 218 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 sight ; pathetically, in the mouths of tongue-jaded 
 townsmen wearily simulating life with pitiful little 
 stocks of faded slang and tenth-hand repartee ; 
 sluttishly, on the lips of modish people straining 
 to do more than justice to their own affinities to 
 rodents ; and, again, embalmed and lying in state, 
 ghastlily, with crowds gaping in rapture at the 
 bowelless carcase, in that grisly histrionic business 
 of the posturer Albry. But with Dick it had 
 passed as a thing of course that in chaff and in 
 politics words were used not as themselves but as 
 something less, as you might use cricket-bats for 
 lighting fires, or train sweet - peas up fly - rods. 
 Not till now had he seen, with eyes fully open, 
 the rite of splashing solemnly about in a 
 vocabulary, for splashing's sake, the preference 
 for just jingling, for the sound they made, the 
 bunch of keys that, rightly turned in the locks, 
 were inlets to gardens by rivers in Bagdad. And 
 the strangest thing of all was connoisseurship in 
 the practice ; to a man like his uncle there were, 
 it would seem, a better and a worse in the trade of 
 making words stand for nothing ; there were 
 qualities of nullity, degrees of skill in keeping 
 mind and heart blank ; the void was not all one, 
 nor zero a level.
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 219 
 
 How far did it spread ? He wondered. After 
 all, might not his uncle be, in his dealer's way, 
 right ? Was Fay's patter of symbols, symbolising 
 nothing, what people, perhaps, really wanted, what 
 more and more people were coming to want, till 
 at last the whole art of significant speech might 
 atrophy clean away, out of men's minds, like an 
 unused muscle, words growing more and more 
 voluble, each of them counting for less, till we 
 worked clean round the circle and sat again 
 chattering on the trees, with a Roads to say we 
 were right ? Or was his uncle a gull, a freak, at 
 whom everyone laughed ? Had the painters of 
 those pictures laughed, when they read ? Or did 
 they too — ? 
 
 In the mid-day hours that room was like a fore- 
 shore ; swift rising tides of tweed and broadcloth 
 would flood out at one moment over its vacant 
 stretches of bulging and puckered red leather, till 
 nothing was bare, and again some ebb — the hour 
 for luncheon, the" hour for return to business — 
 would leave all high and dry, and the foreshore 
 only littered with the leavings of the receded bore 
 — tobacco - ashes, used matches, scrunched - up 
 envelopes. One such tide you have seen, and the 
 setting in, at Albert's potent word, of an ebb ; the
 
 220 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 only major deposits of the spent flood had been 
 Dick and Pinn ; then Bliss had come back and 
 cleared off Pinn ; and now, so long had Dick 
 mused, the tide was making again ; the vanguard 
 of the fed dropped in, using tooth-picks, or cutting 
 cigars, and sank plump on the red cushions, 
 ordering coffees and curacoas. 
 
 One group, flown with insolence and luncheon 
 and abounding in a happy consciousness of their 
 most jannock selves, came chaffing an image of 
 good-humour in its midst, a German of caricature, a 
 musician of the comic papers, and yet an authentic 
 German and a rare musician, and a Samson 
 seasoned to the job of making sport for Philistines 
 at odd times, content enough that the poor things, 
 shut out from life, should have consolations. 
 
 " What about your Kaiser, now," one of them 
 was asking, " cheeking England that way about 
 Waterloo ? " 
 
 " I tell you fott, my boy," was the emphatic 
 answer, " we must strengzen our Navy." 
 
 There were roars of laughter, derisive shouts of 
 " We ! " " Who's ' we ' ? " Wigwam badinage was 
 robust. 
 
 " My dear men," began Hewlitt, " Blumenthal's 
 quite right. He — "
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 221 
 
 " Go it, Hewitt ! Good old Radical ! Back the 
 foreigner," cut in some purer patriot. 
 
 "Foreigner!" cried Blumenthal. "Me zat's 
 naturalised." 
 
 "Since when, my friend?" asked the patriot, 
 sweet 1)'. 
 
 "Since breakfast-time, eh, Bloomer?" another 
 rapier clinked in. " Didn't you just read that puff 
 of your show in the Stalwart this morning and 
 then go off and turn Englishman straight in honour 
 of Albion's press ? " 
 
 "Albion's! The anti-British rag!" the patriot 
 muttered. But in this place party was nothing, 
 wit's cut-and-thrust everything, so he forbore. 
 " How much a time does the Stalwart rush you, 
 for puffs that size?" was all that the brilliant 
 fellow said out. 
 
 " Belief me, my friends," said Blumenthal, " I 
 haf already not seen to-day zis so famous critique 
 of my concert of last evening." 
 
 All remonstrated in one breath. " Blumenthal ! 
 Blumenthal!" "Bloomer, be good." "Oh, fie!" 
 " It was last night he read it ! " " No, he only 
 wrote it." 
 
 " Dear Bloomer is so modest," Roads said, " that 
 he never will see it unless — "
 
 222 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " Make him ! " " Read it him by force ! " " Let's 
 hold him down," was shouted by one and another, 
 and so the meat-fed wits concerted a eupeptic 
 lark, sitting in a ring, with the German set in the 
 midst, in a big, soft chair ; from his throne he 
 beamed on the children at their play, his little 
 lathe-turned legs dangling clear of the floor. 
 Roads fell into place as president of the session — a 
 way of his at such times ; he would melt into the 
 chair, in a kind of vapour, to re-condense there 
 into a Roads. Blumenthal, primed by him with a 
 cigar and a meetly-laced coffee — even the guiltiest, 
 Roads said, must not perish of want in the hands 
 of justice — sat back god-like, whole and round, 
 pleased with the innocence of mankind. 
 
 " Now, gentlemen," he said, " as our Shakspeare 
 says, ' 1 am armed and well-prepared.' " 
 
 There was the stock roar at his conscious 
 Englishness. As it died down, the reciting drone 
 of the voice of Hewlitt, chosen off-hand for this 
 liturgy, drifted across to petrify Dick : 
 
 " When Dr Blumenthal conducts a passage of Wagner 
 like this, it is as if the hearer turned a corner at some 
 primal dawn and lit upon God, making the earth — " 
 
 Interjections of " Oh ! Oh ! " "I say, though ! "
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 223 
 
 " Beastly casual — coming on God like that ! " were 
 stilled by Hedlum's deliverance, " The words, if I 
 may venture to say so, seem to me singularly apt." 
 Then the rest first knew, what Hedlum's instinct 
 had known before, that it was just what they had 
 been going to think. 
 
 " So," assented Blumenthal, from the full heart. 
 There was a quick laugh again. "Apt to me? 
 No, but to Wagner, whom I, even I, cannot dis- 
 able ! Yes!" 
 
 " Apt, I was trying to say," Hedlum resumed, 
 clement to man's incorrigible vice of interrupting, 
 " to the vague but profound and vast suggestive- 
 ness of great music." 
 
 " So," assented Blumenthal ; " Hewlitt, you can 
 already strike me again. Ze stripes are goot." 
 
 Hewlitt read on, to a deepening ring of hearers, 
 Brumby, who had just come in, amongst them. 
 
 " You stand, if only one instant, in Creation's forge ; 
 your very body shakes with the fall of the hammer that 
 beats out the half-made world." 
 
 The ring, as a whole, were rather impressed. 
 " A very fair appreciation," one enthusiast ejacu- 
 lated. " Divinely fair," a still unmoved scoffer 
 quoted, " ' and most divinely tall.'"
 
 224 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " Tall ! " cried the musician. " For Wagner ! 
 Zis praise tall ! No, a tousand times ! " 
 
 "What on earth has it to do with Wagner?" 
 Dick intervened, speaking as if alone with one 
 person, but with a first tang of bewildered indigna- 
 tion in his voice, breaking in on its childlike want- 
 to-know quality. 
 
 "So? No?" Blumenthal was polite, though 
 scandalised. " Wiz Wagner, no ? Wiz whom, 
 zen, in zis wide world of music ? " His gesture 
 was vast, circumferential. 
 
 For the moment perplexity closed again over 
 Dick's head. " Music ! " was all he said. Hedlum, 
 having eyed him with the temperate contempt due 
 from a good man to the cutter of a poor figure, 
 nodded to Hewlitt. " Had you not better pro- 
 ceed?" he said, doffing and wiping his spectacles 
 restfully. " Perhaps the junior member of the 
 club will set us right when you're done." Blumen- 
 thal, softer-hearted, leant over towards Dick, in 
 fatherly pardon of the blasphemy. " When you 
 are old," he said kindly, " you will, as me, feel in 
 zese words fat and juicy meaning." 
 
 The reading went on. Dick, semi-dazed, 
 watched the exhumation, from this inexplicable 
 grave, of his own naked, new-born babe, so private
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 225 
 
 and tragic to him. Limb by limb, it came out, 
 indecently successful with these deluded savages. 
 Now : 
 
 " ' It is to stand at night on a hill, till something gives 
 — some bolt that has barred you out from reality breaks 
 in your mind, and you feel with your body the roll of 
 the earth, and the wind of the rushing through space, 
 past other stars.' " 
 
 And again, in some mad context : — 
 
 " ' It almost brings to the face the sting of the blown 
 granules of ice, on a high pass at dawn.' " 
 
 " And now," Hewlitt said as the recital closed, 
 with a gesture of ceding to Dick the general ear, 
 " the man who knows will — " 
 
 " Who else should know ? " Dick began, with his 
 blundering reliance on realities. 
 
 There was a great laugh. As a butt, Dick was 
 ousting the German. " Who, indeed ? " asked 
 Hedlum, placidly fondling his jest, " but the 
 youngest among us ? " " ' A child shall lead 
 them,'" some Biblicist quoted. 
 
 Dick was stuck. What use, after all, to explain, 
 
 where he could explain so little? "I'm sorry, 
 
 sir, you should be hoaxed," he said to Blumenthal. 
 
 Hewlitt fired at the word. " Hoaxed ! " he said 
 '5
 
 226 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 hotly ; he thrust the open Stalwart on Dick. 
 " Be so good as to look at that." Dick looked 
 at the notice blankly. The ring was now melt- 
 ing away, partly in mercy to him. " Do try," 
 Hewlitt said improvingly, "to have a little 
 imagination. For one thing perhaps you may 
 come to conceive what Art means. For another, 
 perhaps you'll conceive we're not all undergradu- 
 ates here; in this club, as it happens, we don't 
 play off hoaxes." 
 
 " Why, it's a regular theft," Dick was muttering, 
 to himself mostly. 
 
 " To disagree with youth ? " laughed the patriot 
 Bunce. " Flat burglary. It always was." 
 
 "Theft, I mean, literally," Dick said, half 
 attending, while half of him held off and thought. 
 
 Brumby came forward. " My jurisdiction, 
 Bunce," he said. They were friends. Bunce, 
 nodding, went out. Everyone went ; chambers 
 and offices called to them. Brumby, alone with 
 Dick in the residuary reek of smoke, smells of 
 drinks, and used breath, put the hand of a kind 
 and wise condescension again on Dick's shoulder 
 and said in reminiscent, humorous reproach, 
 " Literally, Dick, my boy ? Literally ? " Brumby 
 at all times talked as hacks write up the text to
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 227 
 
 go with a picture — the " letter-press." First came 
 the vision of himself, rightly posed ; then fit 
 words for the hero, afterwards. What he saw 
 now was a commanding officer, a scarred veteran, 
 handsome, patient and melancholy, once stupidly 
 insulted by the last-joined subaltern — and now 
 the headstrong boy had tumbled into the very 
 lapse his folly had thought to upbraid in a 
 Belisarius, a Bayard, a Colonel Newcome. " Dick, 
 my boy," said these heroes, with a touch of 
 whimsical, long-suffering playfulness, " literally ? " 
 
 Dick, plague take him, would never fall into 
 his place in heroic compositions. "You heard," 
 he said, just as if no tableau were in hand, " the 
 stuff he read?" 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Brumby, stretching a point of 
 forbearance at the crass interruption. 
 
 " I wrote that — whole blocks of that." 
 
 " Dick, Dick, my dear boy." 
 
 " I wrote that." Dick's stress, quitting the first 
 word, came down hard on the second. 
 
 " Dick, what's the matter with you ? Last night 
 you were in Cumberland." 
 
 " Of course, but — " Dick's gesture tried to brush 
 Brumby away. 
 
 " But, but, but," Brumby's voice came again
 
 228 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 like a groom's buzz round a touchy horse ; " you 
 don't write on music, eh, Dick ? " 
 
 " Good Lord, no ! But—" 
 
 " Nor for the Stalwart — eh, Dick ? No, no ; 
 only one traitor in the dear old camp." 
 
 "There is a traitor?" Dick snapped at the 
 word. "Why, he did it then." 
 
 "Yes, yes, no doubt, no doubt." While he 
 spoke, like a nurse droning fretful infancy into 
 quiet, Brumby put out the soothing hand again. 
 
 Dick, with a twitch of distaste, subtracted his 
 shoulder. " Uncle, I'm not drunk. That night— 
 the last I was at work — I wrote that rant. I 
 wrote it about those pictures." 
 
 Then Brumby did, for a silent instant, peer into 
 the well and saw, not indeed the whole dripping 
 figure of Truth, but a first tab or loop of her wet 
 raiment. "D'you mean," he said, working it out 
 piece by piece, " it was not you wrote that other 
 — the notice of that exhibition of pictures ? " 
 
 " The slops that the Warder printed ? " 
 
 " Slops ! " The master craftsman was outraged. 
 "A first-rate piece of journalism." Even as he 
 gave worth its due, he turned ; he saw something 
 move in the well. "Why, who the deuce, then, 
 did write ours ? "
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 229 
 
 The question, asked chiefly of the ambient air, 
 was answered by Dick. "That Irish ape, of 
 course." 
 
 " Why d'you say that ? " 
 
 " He spilt it out, pails of it, one time I stuck." 
 
 " You stuck, did you ? Oh ? " Brumby was 
 grim. So his own flesh and blood had been 
 failing again, and Fay had rescued the paper. 
 Fay had kept the coach going. " You stuck, 
 again ? " 
 
 " It all ran into knots, what I thought of say- 
 ing ; two or three small things I wanted to write 
 down more and more just as I meant them 
 wouldn't come right, and the rest was a thin flux 
 of piffle ; and the time was going. Fay saw. 
 He was decent enough in his own thief's way — 
 gabbled some rot I might pass off instead of a 
 notice — the rot that's in," Dick explained, with 
 a spurning flick of his boot at the old Warder 
 dropped on the floor. 
 
 " Oh, you did let him give you a lift with it, 
 then ? " 
 
 " My good sir ! " Dick exclaimed, getting red. 
 It was rude, but in Dick the ferocious self-respect 
 of youth had not yet been broken to harness. 
 
 No condign reprimand followed. You cannot,
 
 2 3 o A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 the while you stand on your dignity, also lie flat 
 on your stomach, peering down into a well. 
 
 " What did you do, then ? " asked Brumby, who 
 might have consumed Dick with fire so nicely, had 
 fortune been kinder. 
 
 " I tried on, a bit ; it wouldn't go ; so then I 
 chucked it." 
 
 " But the stuff that you'd written ? " 
 
 " I threw it in the fire." 
 
 " In the fire — literally, my exact friend ? " 
 
 " Well— at it." 
 
 " It seems it didn't hit." Brumby paused, in- 
 ferring, piecing out. Then he spoke slowly, with 
 strain, each word a painful inch of ground, you 
 would say, won by the higher equities of the soul 
 from interest and inclination. " And Fay took 
 the pains to save it, and, I dare say, thought, 
 rightly or wrongly, he was not charging too dear 
 in accepting a cast-off shred of botched work from 
 the ash-heap, as some small set-off to the first- 
 rate thing he was giving, freely, to the paper in 
 its hour of need. Ton my word, what he did 
 was almost excusable." 
 
 "You mean — to palm off what I'd said of 
 pictures one day as what he thought of music 
 another?"
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 231 
 
 " My dear boy, it's easy for you and me, 
 if we merely care to be smart, to make out 
 a fine case against him, but isn't the vital 
 question this — has any substantial injustice 
 been done?" 
 
 "To the pictures he hadn't so much as given 
 a look at?" 
 
 "Come, come, he's bad enough, God knows 
 — don't I know it too, to my cost? Still, let's 
 be fair, Dick. Fiat justitia, rual caelum — eh ? 
 You see," the ripe senior went on, in russet, 
 richly autumnal tones of garnered sense and 
 sane charity, " I'm afraid it is out of the 
 question, with men what they are, to make a 
 paper's assessment of the merits of various 
 works of art as purely impersonal as you or 
 I might wish." 
 
 Dick shuddered. Criticism impersonal ! Brumby 
 went on, from increasing heights : " Meanwhile, 
 in any merely personal, merely individual 
 valuation of such things, there must always be 
 an element of — well, of uncertainty ; so that, 
 for all we know — though, of course, I'm with 
 you on the general question, Dick, I'm with 
 you on that — in the special case of the Warder's 
 criticism of these artists, the presence of that
 
 232 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 element, that alloy as I may say, cannot with- 
 out inexactness be wholly attributed to Fay's 
 unfamiliarity — due, as this was, to an emergency 
 — with the actual details of particular paintings ; 
 nay, to be quite honest, which of us can say for 
 certain that this element was appreciably in- 
 creased by it? Sympathy, remember, and 
 insight and experience can do much ; and then, 
 no doubt, he would feel doubly bound, in a 
 case of this kind, to exercise sobriety and 
 moderation and breadth and catholicity of 
 judgment ; and these, when you come to think 
 of it, are, surely, the most essential, the only 
 absolutely and invariably essential parts of a 
 critic's equipment." 
 
 " I don't follow you, uncle," was all Dick 
 could say at the moment. Now that he had 
 the use of his eyes, with the bandage of 
 respect off, it took his breath away to see the 
 moth-eaten shoddy of this mind unrolling its 
 rotten folds. 
 
 "You will, my boy, all in good time. Youth 
 judges harshly. But as to Finn—!" 
 
 "Pinn?" Dick stared. 
 
 " You don't know ! Oh, of course. Now that's 
 a traitor for you. And, by George," said the man
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 233 
 
 master of himself, remembering suddenly, " he's 
 upstairs now. I saw Bliss and him washing — 
 and now why the deuce can't they finish their 
 guzzling? Ah — !" 
 
 Belief in the efficacy of invocation was sup- 
 ported by the sight of Bliss and Pinn politely 
 struggling for posteriority through the swing-door.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 "The prophets prophesy falsely ; and the priests bear rule by 
 their means ; and my people love to have it so ; and what will ye 
 do in the end thereof? " Jeremiah v. 31 
 
 T F A be really for having it out with B, out 
 "■■ it comes ; let the wish only burn with due 
 heat of its own, and any small hamperings 
 of time, place and usage will dry off duly 
 from round it, much as the swaddling sheaths 
 parch down to nothing from under the burst- 
 ing flame of a poppy. In a few minutes Bliss, 
 from a fond, expansive host, had first decreased 
 mystically into a detail and then diminished 
 clean out of the room ; Dick, though a more 
 impracticable solid, had declined into a dis- 
 connected dark object projected on a middle 
 distance of red leather, and Brumby was open- 
 ing the snuggery to Pinn, to minister to him, 
 there, a helping of those sweets of human 
 converse for which Pinn had foregone earlier 
 acquaintance with the peace of that interior. 
 
 " Mr Pinn, a breach of faith — " the honest, 
 
 234
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 235 
 
 rugged fellow began, the grammatical subject 
 tumbling out, like a cry, without thought for 
 its predicate. 
 
 " Sir ! " Pinn's voice beat to quarters. Were 
 boarders coming ? 
 
 " I may say, a fraud of a gross type 
 has—" 
 
 " Sir ! " said Pinn again, with no art, rushing 
 half out of his guard ; the guilt of last night 
 made him jumpy on his stance. 
 
 Brumby saw, and cooled ; so Pinn was crack- 
 ing, perhaps nearly done with ; " — has been 
 practised upon you," said Brumby, the last 
 words slowly, with malice and gusto, to note 
 how they set Pinn trying to wriggle invisibly 
 back to the ground he had quitted in panic. 
 " On Tuesday night — a fortnight ago — " Brumby 
 went on, slowly, watching. 
 
 " Yes ? " said Pinn, itching for speech. 
 
 " That night," Brumby retailed the words, " my 
 nephew, whom I have just introduced to you, 
 wrote, in my office, for use in the next day's 
 Warder, a notice of the Mountain Painters' 
 Exhibition. It did not appear in the next 
 day's Warder. It does appear in the Stalwart 
 to-day."
 
 236 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 Hope jumped up, a flicker of light, from the 
 ashes of Pinn's suffering complexion. " I beg 
 pardon, but, surely, some strange misunder- 
 standing — If I remember rightly there is no 
 notice of that, or, indeed, of any picture exhibi- 
 tion in to-day's Stalwart" 
 
 "The missing copy," Brumby went on with 
 crushing, massive levelness of tone, "appears in 
 the Stalwart as a notice of a concert." 
 
 " Good Heavens ! Good Heavens ! " Pinn's 
 genuine start at coming on this novel cantrip 
 of Fay's was the making of his demeanour as 
 a piece of fence. A little stunned, in good 
 truth, by the news, and travailing with con- 
 jecture, he felt the next instant the tactical 
 value of what had not itself been tactical. Not 
 by design, he had got the right key ; now, to 
 compose in it. " Mr Brumby," he said in the 
 same shocked voice, " for the wrong done to you 
 I'm, you'll believe me . . ." 
 
 " Oh, we all do wrong, now and again." The 
 robust Christian, thinking for one wild moment 
 that Pinn was making a clean breast, relaxed. 
 Take this little bonus in advance, he seemed 
 to say, on any frankness I shall find in your 
 confession. Vain hope ! No confession was
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 237 
 
 coming ; censure, rather ; a look of protest, 
 aghast. 
 
 " What ! " said Finn. " You'd let him off! " 
 
 "Him?" 
 
 "The thief!" The receiver almost shrieked. 
 " The thief of your valuable property ! " 
 
 " Oh, our loss — as to that — " Brumby shrugged 
 a modest valuation of Dick's labours. In this 
 commerce of deceits naked sincerity rose now and 
 then to a moment's commercial value, and then 
 again was submerged. 
 
 But Pinn's altruistic indignation went on nosing 
 away at the business — one end of the business, 
 waxing and turgescent at each injury to Brumby 
 that it explored. " Rob you of what was vital 
 to your next day's paper! Why" — he stopped, 
 his eye took light ; it revolved as if seeking a file of 
 the Warder — " you can have had no notice next day 
 of that important exhibition." 
 
 " We made shift, you know. One does, you 
 know," Brumby said hurriedly. Him, too, furtive 
 panic re-invaded. Pinn, thanks be, made no 
 move filewards. " That's over, anyhow," said 
 Brumby, on a freer breath. " You mustn't mind 
 about me ; I've stood worse. But that this thief, 
 whoever he is " — it was too bold this ; their eyes
 
 238 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 met ; each saw that the other was scouting — 
 " should palm the loot off upon you, for what he 
 did — by Gad, sir, it was abominable ! " 
 
 Each spy caught the eye of the other, and saw 
 his game, and saw too that his own game was 
 seen, and yet drove on with it, partly because he 
 could not cut clear if he would, partly from some 
 last drain of hope ; both were in the cheat's 
 last lap now, the dead weariness of playing 
 tricks, the sick longing not to be so low, but to 
 bring off just one grand haul of rogue's gains, 
 enough to set them up again for good as honest 
 men. Like the clerk who has filched an odd 
 fiver per week for some months, each burned, 
 with a thirst that seemed very like the true 
 thirst after righteousness, to wipe out all his 
 nasty little moral soilures, or his lacks of sports- 
 manship, with the sponge of one big deal which, 
 put through in the right way, would see him 
 safe back to solvent rectitude, at ease to make his 
 peace quietly with men, or at anyrate with the 
 gods, for whatever fell short of the ideal in the 
 mode of his salvation. " Oh, we won't talk of 
 that," Pinn's voice dragged on dully, a sound as 
 of tired, shuffling feet that must still mark time 
 in dust, dust ; " the Stalwart's back is fairly
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 239 
 
 broad. It's your case I'm thinking of. And 
 if you do find out the thief and care to — 
 to press the matter — say, to prosecute, then 
 of course anything I can do — Ah, Bliss, you 
 back ! " 
 
 Bliss, happily fussy as the tug that berths a 
 liner, was leading in Hewlitt. They had left 
 together, it seemed, and Bliss, as they went along, 
 had said something of Pinn's being there, and 
 Hewlitt had stopped dead ; they must go back ; 
 he wanted an introduction. " Fact is, Mr Pinn," 
 he explained, " I am a joint honorary secretary 
 of the National Progressive Union, and I want 
 your leave to reprint as a leaflet that most telling 
 leader — if it's not impertinent to say so — that 
 you gave us in the Stalwart last, last — " 
 
 " Yes ? " Pinn almost begged, as again a tiny 
 tongue of that flame licked up out of the 
 ashes. 
 
 " Last — Oh, no — Wednesday — a fortnight ago," 
 said Hewlitt, and the flame went out. 
 
 Brumby, drawn off a little for manner's sake, 
 sucked every word into thirsting ears. So, too, 
 did Fay, now in the large room. It was Fay's 
 club hour ; at dead low-water of each day's life 
 of the club he would slip in and rush through
 
 2 4 o A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 the papers. Pinn saw him talking with Dick, 
 and looked at Brumby's face again and saw more 
 foul play there. But Hewlitt had to be answered, 
 " May I . . . ? " said Pinn. " Oh, will it do if I let 
 you know later ? " 
 
 Hewlitt was sorry ; he hated to pester ; only, 
 they must go to press at once, and the thing was so 
 good, and really no voter in all Halland should 
 go without reading it. A silence followed, silence 
 not as that of the grave, for that is rest from 
 sound ; this was an ache for it, a hungering sense 
 of stretched strings and expectant tympana. 
 Fay, weakly merciful, ruffled a Field to temper 
 for Pinn that agony of importunate stillness. 
 Hewlitt half turned from the patient. " Brumby," 
 he said, "can't you help me? Forget you're a 
 Tory. Persuade him. If you were the Junius, 
 and I were — if I were the Primrose League, now 
 wouldn't you give me your leave ? " 
 
 " In most cases," began Brumby, " no doubt." 
 Then he stopped. Let the humbug get out of 
 the hole himself, if he could, he that digged in 
 the dark to trip others. 
 
 " You make reservations ? " said Hewlitt. 
 "Jealousy, thy name is journalist. Fay, now, 
 you'll have no bias ; speak up for me."
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 241 
 
 Fay looked up, sheepish and deprecant, wincing 
 for Pinn's distress while tickled with the humour 
 of it. Bliss seconded the playful appeal. 
 " Come along, Fay," he called genially, " help 
 press a wider fame on a blushing author." 
 
 Fay shambled nearer. Pinn the blushing 
 author, Pinn the bushel - covered light, Pinn 
 the violet 'neath a mossy stone — the idea sus- 
 tained the Irishman ; his breed feed on such 
 moon-dews ; they pick proteids from these 
 humours. Still, he had pity " for all souls in 
 trouble, here or in hell." " Well, personally — " 
 he began. 
 
 It was his way, they knew. " Yes, yes," Hew- 
 litt pressed, "we know — you're not an author 
 yourself," and all that — and, in fact, Fay had 
 helped that to be thought — "but if you were? 
 Suppose, just suppose, it were you that had 
 written that smashing — " 
 
 " I mean," stammered Fay, " that, before 
 I ..." 
 
 " Before you'll say, you'll sink into the earth — 
 is that it?" Hewlitt chafed. These diffident 
 people were maddening. 
 
 " I mean, just now, before I — well, before I 
 
 came in, I saw Hedlum ..." 
 16
 
 242 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " If he'd seen you, now," sniffed Hewlitt. 
 
 "... brushing your hat, with his coat on," Fay 
 mildly concluded. 
 
 " Lord ! " cried the politician ; postponing the 
 national interest, he rushed from the room, 
 in his own. Bliss, whose hats were studies, 
 nervously followed ; none would be safe, 
 with the short - sighted man in the lobby. 
 Pinn hung for a second inactive, till Fay, 
 with a quick little stamp of impatience, 
 pointed him back to the snuggery door 
 whence they had all been debouching into 
 the outer sea of club carpet. Then, with 
 a low "Thank you," breathed from the 
 heart, Pinn went to earth without further 
 formality. 
 
 Brumby, too, speeding outwards through the 
 swing-door, found time, as he passed Fay, to 
 growl, with the full gruffness of an unflattering 
 Briton's hard-won admiration, " You've gumption, 
 anyway." 
 
 Fay and Dick only were left, Fay wrigglesome 
 all over. No inch of skin but seemed to be 
 dodging an apprehended dart from Dick's quiver of 
 killing simplicities. Dick marvelled. He asked, 
 " Was that a trick, too ? "
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 243 
 
 "The hat trick? Looks like it. It got 'em 
 out, all three, at anyrate." 
 
 " But why ? " 
 
 "The man was wretched." Fay glanced at 
 Pinn's refuge. Hewlitt came in as he spoke. 
 " In time, I trust," said Fay, to him, anxiously. 
 
 " Yes, many thanks ; the crisis was past, some- 
 one had pulled him off it, no doubt. Pinn 
 gone ? " 
 
 " You didn't pass him in the hall ? " said Fay, 
 with surprise. 
 
 " Going, was he ? I must give chase." 
 
 " You know the short cut to his office ? " 
 
 " The slummy way ? " 
 
 " By Hanging Gate." 
 
 " I know." 
 
 Hewlitt was gone. " Another ! " said Dick, 
 and marvelled. " I say, though," he added. 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "About that stuff you wrote, the picture 
 stuff; you — knew all, right, what rot it was?" 
 
 " My dear boy," began Fay placably. 
 
 Dick plunged on. 
 
 "It was just fooling, wasn't it? You don't 
 believe in it ? — no, of course you don't, like these 
 old geese — my uncle, and all of 'em in this
 
 244 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 place — everybody else outside it too, I daresay, 
 barring you ; it's just for some sort of game you 
 patter off that hash of lies, don't you? These 
 people here have the lie right in their souls — 
 if their brains were only shamming dead, like 
 you, there'd be hope ; but they ain't ; they're 
 carrion and like it — death's life to 'em ; they 
 don't want what's real ; it's too sharp air for 'em ; 
 they couldn't breathe it ; and you, that do the 
 lying for 'em — there's no one else but you that 
 knows or cares a hang what it means to see 
 things for oneself and to get your own feel of 
 them." 
 
 Fay waited a moment ; Dick breathed. 
 
 " What was it like now, there at the pictures ? " 
 Fay asked, at first shyly ; then, with a rush, 
 " Now, wasn't it just bursting, all a-tingle, into 
 a June world at dawn ? " 
 
 " I knew you knew," said Dick. 
 
 " A first dawn of all, it would be like, rising, 
 not on the dust of any old days ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes," Dick asserted, "on it, over it, 
 shining and wet, like some immense pity, open- 
 ing pitiful eyes. Yes," he pressed Fay ; they 
 might have been arguing for hours ; " yes. 
 Yes."
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 245 
 
 " Faith, how should I know ? " Shyness, 
 scared at her own lifted veil, was letting it fall 
 again. 
 
 " You do. You're the only one does. There's 
 no one to talk to, but you. You do know." 
 
 " I did, you might say." The veil was for- 
 gotten at the other's call for company in a loneli- 
 ness. " I was right in the garden, once on a 
 time, and then I played at making flaming 
 swords and then — well, I was turned out with 
 them." 
 
 " Swords ? " 
 
 " Lies, you know. I took to the lying — not 
 for fun, you know, exactly — we were nesting 
 then, my wife and I, and the rations don't come 
 in now for young ravens in the way they used 
 to do in Syria — and then there's some plaguy- 
 way the soul works, so that you can't see truth 
 if you give up telling it. ' Your young men 
 shall see visions ' — is that how it goes ? — ' and your 
 old men shall dream dreams ' ; it's a white hair, 
 every lie ; you grow old in them. Ah, but the 
 fine things I've seen, like you, and now I 
 can doze and dream of 'em. I remembered, 
 when reading your copy. Dead true it 
 was — that I could tell still — news of a real
 
 a 4 6 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 thing that had come in the way of a real 
 being." 
 
 " Tumbling about among pictures — yes ; but 
 music ! My dear chap ! " 
 
 "Why not? It does say, at least, what had 
 happened to somebody, somewhere. If I'd 
 written, my stuff would have told what had 
 happened to nobody, nowhere. Pinn, or some 
 vice-Pinn of his, sent round for some copy, so 
 I pulled this about and threaded it on to a sort 
 of a string that we use in the trade, and threw 
 in a corpse of a phrase here and there, to make 
 corpses like Pinn feel at home with it." Three 
 yards away a tossed Stalwart lay on the floor; 
 the tall heading, " Blumenthal Concert," was 
 legible. "Why," said Fay, the wild man in 
 him shying again, restive under these intimacies, 
 " why, it looks like the real thing, just, from 
 here." 
 
 " ' Seen large,' as Sir Joshua says. Now, see." 
 Dick grew grumpy and clumsy. " Your game's 
 up, isn't it ? Oh ! " Dick half turned at a creak 
 from the snuggery door; not in time, though, 
 to see Pinn's face protrude warily, dwell for a 
 hungry instant on Fay, then, blackly, on Dick, 
 and vanish again. Fay saw ; he saw everything.
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 247 
 
 " You're sacked," Dick resumed, " I too, perhaps, 
 for of course I must have it all out with my 
 uncle ; only, unless he does sack me, I'll stick 
 on a while and take soundings, to see if there's 
 bottom at all, or whether the whole Press goes 
 down all the way to some central waters of falsity 
 under the earth." 
 
 '"M? Metaphors— mind them. They're all 
 right ; only, mind them." 
 
 But the senior workman failed to head off the 
 apprentice. " You've seen fit to go halves in my 
 copy," said Dick, labouring to be brutal, "so 
 you've got to go halves in the pay. It's your 
 own confounded fault." 
 
 " Sir ! " Fay stiffened and reddened. As he 
 did, the swing door whined on its hinge ; an- 
 other head, Brumby's, poked in, coveted Fay, 
 and was gone. Him, too, had Fay seen, as 
 his way was ; and Dick had not, as was 
 his. The rigidity thawed out of Fay. "You 
 say, while one's out of work, the other — 
 either — whichever it be — is to share with 
 him?" 
 
 "You'd like it that way?" said Dick, kicking 
 himself in spirit. Lout, why had he not put it 
 that way himself?
 
 248 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " You agree ? " Fay was pressing. 
 " Well — seems reasonable." 
 " You agree ? " 
 " Oh, yes." 
 " So do I."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 '• I am cast upon a horrible, desolate island." 
 
 Defoe, Robinson Crusoe 
 
 r*HE Fays dwelt in an inner suburb, now 
 
 -*- rotting, built sixty years before to meet 
 
 the needs of refined minds. Every bell-pull 
 
 traversed the diameter of an Ionic column ; not 
 
 a brick, except, of course, in the backyards, 
 
 peeped from under the long, classic robe of 
 
 stucco, biennially painted, in the old days, an 
 
 almost Parian white, to keep up in the colour 
 
 the spirit of the form. Now it was painted no 
 
 more ; landlords themselves, in a changed world, 
 
 had lost faith in the power of beauty over the 
 
 mind, and the quarter's chaste visage yellowed 
 
 towards the grave, pencilled on the flat parts 
 
 by rude boys and freely lined at each accessible 
 
 protuberance by passing strikers of matches. 
 
 On the moist majority of days the stucco 
 
 sweated a million dirty pearls, and in summer 
 
 it curled and peeled peacefully off in the sun, 
 
 249
 
 2 5 o A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 like Giotto's frescoes at Assisi. In the gardens 
 the grass under the leggy hollies and privets 
 had mange or had died, every blade, of the 
 black death, but a roughly compensatory herbage 
 sprouted among the powdered glass between the 
 setts of Fay's street, a blind alley with one 
 corner of its estuary turned by a slattern news- 
 vendor's shop window, full of fly-blown novelettes, 
 dressmaking journals, and sunken tarts ; the 
 other by the dusty, many-bottled windows of 
 a "grocer's licence." 
 
 Here the Fays had camped at their first 
 landing on the island, with a single eye to 
 cheap shelter from the weather and the abori- 
 gines, as the castaway in other wilds, when he 
 chooses his hole in the rocks, or his hollow tree, 
 only asks which will keep off the beasts and 
 the rain, with least done to it. That the quarter 
 mouldered was good ; neighbours were possi- 
 bilities of molestation to ferocious shyness ; those 
 who might call and those who would not differed 
 as a noxious from a negligible fauna. Here 
 mildew and cobwebs, the burst paint-blisters 
 and straddling weeds gave every hope that 
 society too, in the sinister sense, had rusted 
 down to harmlessness. From the cave, the
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 251 
 
 stockade, they would issue to buy from the 
 natives ; for some they even conceived a kind 
 of regard, the explorer's for the " friendlies " ; 
 a stranger civil in the tram or a greengrocer 
 who had missed a chance to overcharge would 
 be distinguished cordially in talk that night, as 
 one commemorates singular concessions from 
 Afghans or finenesses of nature in horned cattle, 
 God help them. 
 
 The furniture fitted the house, in a way — every 
 stick of it picked up at auction, by someone 
 whose fingers, working in the agonies of selection, 
 or of bidding, could feel each other through the 
 purse ; picked, not for its looks, not to sort with 
 the rest, nor because someone else had the like, 
 but just for its power to serve some primary 
 need, to sit or lie on, or to keep clothes from 
 the moth, or sugar from Jemmy. " What a 
 featureless jumble," you might have said, wrongly, 
 at sight of the deal and maple, oak and mahogany 
 and ash, that took so little thought to set one 
 another off. Rightly seen, with every attribute 
 ignored that had not existed for the creating 
 sense of the collectors, the whole had a quite 
 tense unity of character, each piece of it driving 
 straight at the one seen end, as plain things do
 
 252 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 in rude places where the yoke and milking-stool 
 are spare and purposeful, with a set leanness 
 of utility like that of athletes ; only, there, the 
 taking of the nearest means to the plain end 
 is seen ; it hits the eye. Here, at the Fays, 
 the strictness of fitness in chair and ward- 
 robe was spiritual, resting on the user's habit 
 of paring his own idea of them down to 
 that of naked servers of first purposes and 
 leaving out of consciousness every clogging 
 irrelevance that might have seemed to 
 others the salient things about them — say, 
 a load of ornament, once modish, or, in 
 something newer, a pursed air of quaint- 
 ness or arty simplicism. With the eyes to 
 see past those obstructions, some sensitive 
 soul might have felt, among the Fays' knuckle- 
 some chair-legs and davenports, and before the 
 dinted curvilinear sideboard of mahogany, made 
 for some early Victorian, long bankrupt, the 
 emotion of travellers in the Achill Islands, or 
 odd nooks of the Alps, where everything in 
 common use, the coracle, the spinning-wheel, 
 the cheese-press, seems new and cunning from 
 the hand of the first man making shift on the 
 earth.
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 253 
 
 Here the three lived, with the heightened, 
 delighted consciousness of an interior that one 
 attains in bed, by firelight, on nights of whining 
 wind and great rain. Each room, behind its 
 window's well-curtained lower half, was a cube 
 of Irish air; the whole house a tiny enclave of 
 Canaan peeled off like a sod and carried down 
 whole, to stand on, in Babylon ; when twilight 
 shut England out, Jemmy would sit ravished, 
 with a sense of mental home-coming, to hear 
 the elders plunge off into revels of the headlong, 
 glancing and figured speech that turns and rushes 
 from one splash of vividness on to another still 
 wilder and apter, pouncing here and there on 
 some new detail that catches the eye in this 
 moment's vision and springs a new vision the 
 next, gambolling, fanfaronading, capping itself 
 in drunkennesses of inventive glee, as if the 
 strong cordial of words had been only just 
 crushed by some Noah out of some primal 
 grape. 
 
 They had had a week's grand talking now, 
 with Colum at home ; what should ail him, he 
 said, not to talk, and he with nothing in all 
 the wide world to be doing but dress a few 
 flies to cast on the waiting snouts of some size-
 
 254 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 able editors? Articles in clivers tones radiated 
 from him by post, Delphic and jaunty, robust 
 and crepuscular, corrective and nourishing ; and 
 many came back, for editors were rising badly. 
 " Right off their feed, the creatures. Who'd 
 blame them, and the war upsetting all before 
 it?" Fay said on the night of that day at the 
 club, when he came home and found that one 
 more of his works had returned before him, 
 tumbled, with a pin through it. 
 
 His wife read out letters from Ireland — each 
 name, each unit of news like some speck of a 
 printed page for her voice to frame in marginal 
 addenda of biography. Someone was dead, and 
 "Dear, but that wife of his was the torment, 
 and he that was thought such a match for her ; 
 very well off he was and high up in the fifties 
 — he'd jilted a couple of ladies before, and would 
 have left her, but they held him to it, and when 
 she got married she worried the life out of him ; 
 ay, and them all. If a tenant came near her 
 that hadn't holes on his elbows and knees she'd 
 have the rent raised on him." Or a priest would 
 be mentioned, and " That Father Tom was the 
 big-minded man in his way. He'd no sooner 
 be up than he'd go round to every house in
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 255 
 
 the parish and ask had they sent the children 
 to school — Protestants as well as Catholics. 
 And the enlightened views he had ! I don't 
 know where he got them. He always would 
 have his own cow, and not be in a house five 
 minutes before he'd go round throwing open 
 the windows." Or, on news of a wedding : 
 " Eighteen bridesmaids ! That's heavy on the 
 man, and he poorly off. His father had once 
 been a gentleman trainer in Cavan, a very quiet, 
 respectable man till he drank ; he kept no end 
 of horses and eight or nine men and boys to 
 look after them. The County Monaghan was 
 where they came from — an exceedingly good 
 family, and united ! — you never saw anything 
 like it. His mother sent him on foot into 
 Dundalk, to be apprenticed. ' I won't give you 
 a horse,' said she, ' or you'd only come back 
 on it.' And from that day he never looked 
 back, and he'd nothing to do but keep steady, 
 to leave all his family settled." 
 
 To Jemmy, the ten-year-old, the life thus seen, 
 or half seen, transfigured by the gusto of his 
 parents' recollection, was more real, more vehe- 
 mently and intimately conceived, more im- 
 portunate in its interest, that any could be
 
 256 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 imaginably lived in Halland or the darkness of 
 outer England. Taking one broken light with 
 another, as he lay, fusus humi, on his back on 
 the carpet, with his ears agape and his small 
 critic nose flicking with perception, he had pieced 
 together a whole set of poignantly live and 
 transparent-motived people, not spoilt by masks 
 of opaque, stuck immobility, like the faces in the 
 streets, but looking all that they were ; Father 
 John, who was only of quite a plain family, but 
 introduced a good deal of modern thought into 
 his sermons, and always great at the giving — he 
 beat all, there, but so proud — it was a poor thing 
 to come near him ; grandparents, of course, 
 minutely rendered, but also whole casts of minor 
 parts in households raised to movingly high 
 powers of reality ; some workman perhaps, in 
 whom angels of light and the pit contended in 
 a vintner grandfather's yard — a great cooper, but 
 you'd need to have your eye on him ; he couldn't 
 stand the noise of the wine moving in the casks ; 
 or an uncle's cook so asthmatic she'd have a 
 chair there on the landing to sit a while, and 
 she going upstairs ; or the friend that " had 
 tremendous taste in china, but the drawing-room 
 too crowded with this and that, and the waste !
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 257 
 
 The extravagance ! Company morning till night 
 
 and a set of sables you'd think, if you blew into 
 
 it, it was quite white ; in giving you tea she'd 
 
 fill the saucer as much as the cup." Places, too ; 
 
 Drogheda — " Ah, that was the real ecclesiastical 
 
 town — all banks and convents and churches," and 
 
 summer Mornington, where " the houses you'd 
 
 lodge in were owned by captains of sailing-ships " 
 
 — round the walls there'd be pictures of all the 
 
 story of Joseph, they'd brought back from 
 
 England ; figured thus, as a curious import to 
 
 a place where everything mattered, even an 
 
 every - day English thing rose above dusty 
 
 commonness. Into talk of these people and 
 
 things the Fays would let themselves in, all three, 
 
 when they pleased, as by turning a handle you 
 
 pass from the blown dust of roads to a lawn by 
 
 the Thames. It was an inlet to intoxicating 
 
 glows and stirs of thought for Jemmy, supine in 
 
 a troubled ecstasy with a Freeman's Journal 
 
 over his face to spare the bashfulness of his 
 
 happiness in taking his own part in bouts of 
 
 imaginary repartee and heady duels of brilliant 
 
 effrontery. 
 
 For the moment, to-night, the spirit was slightly 
 
 congealed ; it is apt to be that, when an income 
 17
 
 258 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 expires, leaving no visible heir. From thoughts 
 on the dearness of life by the waters of Babylon, 
 Mrs Fay found only a tragic semi-relief in 
 descants on the milk and honey with which 
 Canaan had flowed. A checking, invincible 
 candour would break off to own that good, of 
 a kind, could come out of Halland. The bacon 
 she would not impeach — " Of course it hadn't 
 the flavour of Irish bacon, but still — " Tea, too, 
 was value for the money — " You wouldn't get 
 better in Dublin." Such things shone with the 
 forced brilliancy of rare good deeds in a naughty 
 world of grasping painters, fishmongers, fruiterers, 
 pike and cormorants of all kinds, fallen far from 
 grace as grace had abounded in Cavan. " Think 
 of that great house " — her father's — " in Grattan 
 Street — it done in first-rate style, top to bottom, 
 four coats of oil paint, every bannister bronzed, 
 for sixteen pounds. And such salmon, fresh 
 out of the river — the men would bring it up 
 straight from the beach to the house — four- 
 pence and fivepence a pound ; and beautiful 
 fowls, a shilling and one and sixpence ; eggs, 
 sixpence a dozen, new laid ; and the splendid 
 cauliflowers brought round to the door — ten for 
 sixpence."
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 259 
 
 In a brooding pause a bell rang in the base- 
 ment, the old kind of bell that hung sensitively 
 from the end of a springy coil of metal band 
 and tinkled off into silence lingeringly as taps 
 cease dripping. Jemmy rose at once, as one about 
 an appointed business, stood on a chair to peer 
 cautiously out of the window, through the early 
 twilight, to the Grecian porch, pronounced it 
 " Postman " and, descending, took a bunch of keys 
 that hung from one of its number, a redoubtable 
 skewer-like piece, buried to its handle in the 
 rich red timber wall of the sideboard, the stout 
 ark of the Victorian bankrupt's transient glory, 
 and sedately left the room. 
 
 His mother considered his retreating figure. 
 " That boy," she said, " will want a suit before 
 the spring." 
 
 " Faith, I hope he'll find one in the letter- 
 box," said Fay. 
 
 " A cheque is it you mean ? " 
 
 "Ay do I, from the Anglo-Saxon Monthly." 
 
 " For the Naval Boilers article, or what ? " 
 
 "That, and th' one on 'Tendrils of Empire,' — 
 or word, maybe, from this review that they have 
 starting, th' Imperial Thinker, that they'll take 
 that other stuff."
 
 2 6o A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " Th' • Want of Seriousness at the War Office,' 
 is it?" 
 
 "Ay. That'd be the haul. Five articles. 
 But there's one I'd liefer see taken than 
 any." 
 
 " What's that, then ? " 
 
 "Just the one on the fishing we had down in 
 Galway the year we were married." 
 
 "Oh?" She did not quite see. That good 
 time, remembered, was hers and his. Why let 
 any strange people into their garden? 
 
 " I've the wish in my mind, for a while back, 
 it wasn't the way it is with the writing. It's 
 no thing at all to be doin', to keep spillin' over 
 with blather, the way of a wheelbarrow half full 
 of water, and it just as apt to go this way as 
 that, and all about nothing that ever was in the 
 world, for any signs I see. I'd be shut of it 
 all, from this out, but the sorrow's in the set I 
 write for — they can't endure it if you know what 
 you're about. If you do, you're just kept down 
 to sayin' it bare and plainly, you're that wild for 
 gettin' it out ; it's like callin' for help, and the 
 creatures can't bear it — it seems all naked and 
 chilly to them, they're that used to have all they 
 read fluffsome and woolly. Th' ind of it is
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 261 
 
 they've a notion you don't know, really. See 
 th' indless content of Brumby, beyond, and Finn, 
 when I've mixed 'em the full of the trough, and 
 it not worth the dust you'd see blowin' along the 
 road. An' there's that Galway article back on 
 us twice, and I question will annyone print it, 
 and I that have only to shut my eyes and I'd 
 draw — if I knew how to draw — the curl of the 
 eddy on every snag in the reaches below by 
 Dromore." 
 
 "Yes, dear knows," she said. Both had their 
 eyes shut. 
 
 " Ay, and the sand on hot days, weeny rafts 
 of it, floatin' off dry on the rise of the tide." 
 He opened his eyes on the gravely re-entering 
 Jemmy. " Well, what was in it ? " 
 
 Jemmy, with a wrinkled front, was sifting the 
 presumptive values of the take. " Three advertise- 
 ments — no, two advertisements, three real letters, 
 an' some long strip ov a thing from the — 
 Country House is it ? " 
 
 "Quick, child — why, what are you about?" 
 To the Country House, the great out-of- 
 doors paper, the essay in veracity had last 
 gone on offer. Fay interrogated the envelope 
 with procrastinating fingers, eager to guess,
 
 262 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 afraid to know. "If it's a proof! Too fat, 
 I'll engage ; not a rustle in it." Hope had al- 
 ready gone when he took out a typed paper, 
 too well known, and a letter, from which he 
 read out, impressionistically, disengaging the 
 essential touches : " ' Editor — regrets — subject 
 attractive but — to interest general reader — 
 long first-hand acquaintance with country de- 
 scribed — almost indispensable.' That's the way 
 of it." 
 
 She came over and stood behind him, putting 
 a speaking and sustaining palm under each of 
 his cheeks. " Don't mind them, Colum, anny of 
 them," and then, stroking the hair back from the 
 face, " Colum ! " 
 
 " Dearie ? " 
 
 "There's grand wear left in the suit that 
 Jemmy has on, now I look at the front of 
 him." 
 
 " Ah, then, is there ? " he said, understanding ; 
 for a minute they said, through her hand and 
 his hair, things that words might have bungled 
 in telling. At the minute's end he opened one 
 of the "real" letters. "Here's the fine suit for 
 the child," he said — it seemed, with unflecked 
 pleasure — " and boots, and dear knows what.
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 263 
 
 Th' Imperial Thinker '11 have the pack of 
 them." 
 
 " Army Reform were they on ? " 
 
 " Ay, five bulgin' articles, every wan the weight 
 ov lead. You couldn't read them. Wasn't I the 
 wise man to keep out of wars and armies all 
 my life? If I'd as much as seen a troopship 
 fill at Queenstown I'll engage they'd not have 
 had me for a military expert now." 
 
 " You're a gifted man," she said, not with 
 the whole mind ; unformed thoughts were 
 rising. 
 
 Jemmy, too, had his thoughts. " A mil'tary 
 expert ? " he asked. " Then sure you'll be 
 able to help stop the frightful recruiting in 
 Ireland. Five hundred enlisted last month, it 
 says in the Freeman beyond, and it treason to 
 Ireland." 
 
 "'Deed is it," his mother assented, her whole 
 mind now in the words. 
 
 " Ay," Fay admitted, uneasy, not facing her, 
 pleading rather to Jemmy. " That, or, it may be, 
 half the pitaties gone, and it not Christmas ; 
 and then there'll be two lads, or three, in the 
 place, and one of them has the thought in his 
 mind, if he quits, the pitaties that's in it will
 
 264 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 last out the twelvemonth." The imaginative 
 plea grew real to him as he worked on it. " I'll 
 engage that's the way of it, often," he said with 
 conviction, and faced her eye. 
 
 She was softened, not turned. " 1 don't 
 say it's easy," she said, "to be doin' what's 
 right." 
 
 He opened another letter, and gave a sharp 
 "Ah!" 
 
 "What's that you have there?" she asked, 
 wrenching off from her thoughts. 
 
 "Work, I'll be bound— an offer. Did I tell 
 you about the man Roads they have at the 
 club?" 
 
 " Roads. That's not an Irish name." 
 
 " Moses P. Roads. It is not. He's here startin* 
 a paper, and nothin' will do him but tramplin' 
 the life out of Brumby and Pinn. He'll call, he 
 says, early this evening. That's anny time now." 
 
 "Jemmy, tidy those things out of that," said 
 Mrs Fay first, with a quicker, guiltier, feminine 
 sense of the unspecialised use of an interior. 
 They did all but sleep in the dining-room. " Is 
 it leaders he'll want, like the others?" she then 
 said to Fay. 
 
 The bell rang again, remote in the vacuous
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 265 
 
 basement. " We'll be apt to know soon," Fay 
 replied, "and he there mountin' the stairs." 
 Satanic calm, as if he smelt mischief, was 
 settling on him. He opened another letter. But 
 no steps came, only a second ring, the crashing 
 toe of its first note kicking the last dragging 
 heel of the earlier peal. 
 
 " Is the girl not below ? " Fay asked. 
 
 " She is not. I forgot. I let her go off to the 
 Bible-class that she has and not be burning the 
 gas in the kitchen — it's no use only blackening 
 the ceiling." 
 
 "Jemmy," said Fay, "will you go to the door? 
 Don't hurry. It's no harm, but good, he'll get 
 from the waiting. Molly," he went on again, with 
 the last-opened letter in one hand, when Jemmy 
 was gone, " you remember the boy in a scrape at 
 the Warder?" 
 
 " I do. How at all does he get on, I wonder ? " 
 
 Fay looked at the letter. " He tells me. He's 
 just been put out of it." 
 
 "Dismissed?" 
 
 " Ay, is he." 
 
 " I thought he was the man's own nephew." 
 
 " Nephew an' all, he's put out of it. Brumby, 
 yiu see, has the full of his head of pet phrases
 
 266 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 to feed before spendin' on nephews ; and now 
 it's some darlin' rubbish he has about ' men that 
 fail twice failin' always.' ' Knowing men's ' what 
 he'd call it — and repeatin' this blather and actin' 
 on it'll be ' force of character ' ; the boy'll be 
 destroyed lest the blather turn out to be nothin' 
 but blather at all." 
 
 " Colum, I'll engage there's something we could 
 do." 
 
 " We could — " he paused a moment ; they 
 heard a fleet foot outside on the landing ; far off 
 a heavier one made the lowest stairs creak ; 
 " we could put money in our purse," Fay said ; 
 he left her to meditate this while he should be 
 handling Roads. 
 
 Jemmy entered breathless, fleeing before the 
 caller. " There's a man," he gasped, " coming 
 up. I said he might." 
 
 " You did well," said Fay. " ' All strange callers 
 are sent by the gods ' — you'll find that in Homer. 
 Burrow, small rabbit." 
 
 There was, towards a corner, a table ; a table- 
 cover, too large for it, hung down to the floor. 
 Jemmy dived under this screen with quiet, 
 purposeful swiftness, as old refugees take cover, 
 or dogs slip under the sofa when bed-time
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 267 
 
 threatens their tenure of the hearthrug. Mrs 
 Fay took up her sewing, a guard to observant 
 silence ; she sat back a little. Fay surveyed 
 the disposition of the forces, found it very good, 
 and, going to the door, let in, not Roads, but 
 Brumby.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 " I have heard enough since I came here to satisfy me that a 
 cavalier of honour is free to take any part in this civil embroilment 
 whilk he may find most convenient for his own peculiar." 
 
 Scott, Legend of Montrose, chap. iii. 
 
 ORUMBY'S way, as he flung Fay a hearty 
 "good evening," was bluff, almost bluster- 
 ous ; a rugged, marrowy Briton greeting his friend, 
 you would say, did you not know as much as 
 you do ; knowing it, you would say, what a 
 fine, frank knightly recognition of the dues of 
 courtesy to a foe at his own hearth ; and to a 
 foe's wife too ; " Good evening, Mrs Fay," he 
 repeated, sighting her ; a whole doctrine of 
 woman's right place in the world was implied 
 in the size aud quality of his voice's abatement 
 from its equinoctial breeziness. She froze at 
 the feel of the doctrine ; the frost stiffened her 
 bow ; then she sat back a little, again, her 
 personality drawn in about her like skirts where 
 mud is, or an army's outposts, the tips of its 
 snailish horns, falling in on it at touch of an 
 
 enemy unreconnoitred. 
 
 268
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 269 
 
 Fay, too, had been inefifusive. Worse, he 
 had taken up ground on the hearthrug ; 
 there he looked static ; and Brumby, born 
 a planet, and aware of it, felt himself adrift 
 in space, acted upon more than acting, drawn 
 towards the one infernal heavenly body on 
 the rug and repelled from the other in the 
 chair, the whole disarrangement of forces giving 
 him a perturbed, hovering, dependent motion, 
 not to be put up with. " Might I speak 
 with you one moment — ? " he said, and waited 
 for the action of the powers that preserve 
 the stars from wrong. None acted. Mrs 
 Fay did not move. Fay did not offer 
 another room. " Shall I not be boring Mrs 
 Fay?" he asked. Would nothing lift the world 
 back on to its hinges ? 
 
 Nothing. " My wife and I are — are friends," 
 Fay said with a nasty dryness. 
 
 "That's right, that's right," said brusque geni- 
 ality. "Insolent beast !" he thought, really; was 
 it for Fays and the like to give people answers 
 to pick out of wrappings of pregnant irrelevance? 
 " That's right," he repeated and, under the cover 
 of this fusillade, he tried to edge on to the 
 hearthrug.
 
 270 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 Fay, too, knew his tactics. "Won't you sit 
 down ? " he said suavely. 
 
 Brumby sat. There are times when all chairs 
 are dentists' ; this time was one ; only from that 
 rug could all that he had to say come impromptu ; 
 thence he would shine like a sun restored by 
 divine goodness to men, who, for their deserts 
 had walked a good while in darkness. The chair 
 spoilt everything ; there was Fay, in the place 
 of the sun, emitting malign or ambiguous moon- 
 shine ; here was he, the authentic Phoebus 
 Apollo, vouchsafing his light as it were from a 
 hole ; when he broke into feeling speech, it rang 
 like some recitation. However, he broke. " My 
 dear fellow, I've come here to do — well, what 
 many would call a hard thing." 
 
 Clocks cannot strike twelve whenever they 
 like. Could Brumby have had but five minutes 
 alone, to walk about, buttoning his coat and un- 
 buttoning again, filling his chest, draining at 
 ease the whole bright wine-cup of nobility in 
 conscious action, and then rushed in on Fay and 
 begun, his voice would have plumped clean 
 down on the right note of generous self-pros- 
 tration, the note possible only to the strong who 
 are so very strong that they can give huge dis-
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 271 
 
 counts now and again without really and gravely 
 cheapening themselves. As it was, all was 
 blurred ; the attack had no precision ; wavering 
 between tones, the voice could hold none, till 
 the round, mellow strength it had tried for 
 almost thinned to a whine. 
 
 " I'm sorry," said Fay, helpless at hearing the 
 whine. 
 
 "Sorry I've come?" Brumby gasped. Was he 
 late then, already ? 
 
 " No, no ; sorry it's hard, of course," Fay 
 almost snapped, cross with himself for softening. 
 But the softness had served ; it smote like a 
 Moses' rod upon Brumby, drawing from the 
 Fundamental Gneiss of his nature the waters of 
 generous passion. Brumby leapt from his chair ; 
 he found, lifted, shook, swung and squeezed a 
 hand which Fay vainly charged with the protest 
 of a limp slackness. " Thank you, thank you 
 warmly, my dear chap. I knew you were decent, 
 really ; I never thought anything else." Seriously, 
 a little heat of relief from terror really glowed in 
 Brumby. Fay was not gone, past trying for ; 
 and then a swift instinct snatched at that heat, 
 to use it ; it was a match, a taper ; more could 
 be lit from it — perhaps the whole set, unkindled
 
 272 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 fire of cordiality that had just failed to burn, as 
 it should, in that place ; yes, it caught better now, 
 Brumby felt, as he heard his voice roll round 
 the room. " D'you know that all these — forgive 
 me, Mrs Fay — all these confounded days of mis- 
 understanding and — unpleasantness — all these 
 days that thought has been simply a gastric 
 juice, you know, to me, I do assure you, a gastric 
 juice welling and surging up in me, helping me 
 digest my indignation. I think you'll own I've — 
 had some food for indignation, eh ? " The whine 
 was near ; rush and assurance were lost again 
 to the voice as it asked for a hand through the 
 dirt. 
 
 " Well, personally—" Fay began. 
 
 Hand or not, Brumby grabbed it as one. 
 "Thank you," he broke in, before it should pass 
 from him, "for that," and, when Fay tried to 
 speak, " Not a word, now ; not a word," he broke 
 in again, clinging to the unspokenness of Fay's 
 next words as if to a life-belt; "Who am I, 
 I should like to know, to ask for more than 
 simply that manly, frank acknowledgment of 
 yours ? " 
 
 " Acknowledgment ! " 
 
 " Tut, man ! I knew from the first you'd
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 273 
 
 meet frankness half-way, and — " Both paused 
 
 for a moment ; Brumby, for help, but not a rope's 
 
 end was thrown ; Fay, in despair of a hearing. 
 
 Then Fay cleared his throat to begin, and Brumby 
 
 again took fright at the words that might come, 
 
 and rushed on : " Knowing that, I'll tell you 
 
 just what I've done." All his being cried out. 
 
 for that place on the hearthrug ; where else 
 
 could he fitly be so noble as he meant to be ? 
 
 Bitten with cruel cravings, he hovered round 
 
 Fay ; his body hankered, like a dog's, visibly. 
 
 Fay winced, but held on ; Brumby must just be 
 
 noble as best he might. " I have simply put 
 
 behind me everything, everything that " — he 
 
 cautiously peered at Fay's face and picked each 
 
 word, with a fumble, to fit what he saw there — 
 
 " that I — that we — might rather — forget — might 
 
 some time hereafter be glad to forget, in your — 
 
 your past treatment of — shall I say, in our 
 
 previous relations, for, no doubt there were faults 
 
 — well, mistakes — on both sides — all, you know, 
 
 miserable sinners — only, it's simply this, that just 
 
 for my own satisfaction, I'd rather you knew 
 
 there's no bad blood, whatever, as far as I go, 
 
 about the — the kind of reticence, you know, that 
 
 you practised upon me, and all that — the use, 
 18
 
 274 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 for instance — in a sense, the very generous use 
 — you made of that stupid boy's copy — he 
 won't cross your path again, be easy about 
 that" 
 
 The last words had more ease ; here at least, 
 the tone said, with just pride, was a gage of 
 goodwill for you, something solid. Mrs Fay 
 breathed an "Ah!" and stopped sewing. Fay 
 watched. 
 
 Brumby stared. Were they not touched ? He 
 went on, his voice grown somewhat lonely : 
 "That dance you led Pinn — you shouldn't have 
 done it, you know, my dear boy — a joke's a 
 joke, I know, and I don't say the first was 
 a bad one to play him — but this last, this 
 getting the poor foolish oaf to go back on 
 his word and — cancel that promise of ours — 
 well, no matter how glad I may be for myself, 
 it was rough on the man, I'm bound to say 
 frankly. But, as far as regards myself, what- 
 ever you've done that you'd now wish undone" 
 — from Fay, who was gently shaking his 
 head, Brumby looked, for escape, to the lady, 
 to meet a gaze of distaste and wonder ; her 
 eyes had been fixed in this since he spoke of 
 abolishing Dick — " I simply obliterate, I wipe
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 275 
 
 it off my memory." Where a grateful murmur 
 should have prolonged the full stop, he was left 
 to enforce punctuation himself with a wide gesture 
 of rejection. " I put aside every grain of personal 
 feeling. All I remember now is the sterling 
 worth of your work for the Constitutional 
 party." 
 
 " Oh, the party ? " 
 
 The " Oh ! " was all but an " Ugh." Brumby 
 himself could not miss the whole force of it. 
 " You're right," he amended in haste, " not merely 
 the party ; the nation ; it's the spirit of all that's 
 best in our English politics — that's what you've 
 served, not the party alone. England hath need 
 of you." 
 
 " England ! " Dissimulation was dropping from 
 Fay, whole cloaks at a time. 
 
 " Right, again ! By Jove, you're right always. 
 What's England ? As you say, it's the Empire — 
 that's all that matters. It's the spirit, the august 
 temper of a great governing race — a born govern- 
 ing race — that's what we want, and you've got 
 it, if ever man had, and it's our duty, yours 
 and mine, not to stand, for our own feel- 
 ing's sake, between the Empire and its good. 
 Will you come back ? There ; thank God,
 
 276 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 I've had the manliness to see it. Come back. 
 
 man." 
 
 " To the old work ? " Fay asked, to gain 
 time. He knew, but he wanted to ask a 
 question of his wife's eyes ; but these were 
 down again on the sewing now, where they 
 stayed, though the question reached them through 
 drooped lids. "The old terms?" Fay asked 
 Brumby. 
 
 " I should prefer, if I may, to offer you another 
 .£50 a year. Come, now, you mustn't refuse. 
 The work's hard enough." 
 
 " The ' gains of a prostitute pen ' — was it you 
 dropped that pearl, the last night we met? Or 
 Finn ? Or was it a chorus ? Now, mind, if I 
 
 come — " 
 
 " Yes ? " 
 
 " It will not be to hear things like that." 
 
 " You'll write for us only, you mean ? You'll 
 
 have your whole heart in the paper ? " 
 " Is that a condition you're making ? " 
 " Bless you, no ! What should I want with 
 
 conditions — in view of your break with the 
 
 Stalwart." 
 " No — simply in view of a need that I have to 
 
 be civilly talked to. You promise ? "
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 277 
 
 " Fay, that fine pride of yours is irresistible. 
 Of course I promise, heartily." 
 
 " Then — about your nephew — " 
 
 " Was I not quite clear just now ? You needn't 
 have the least uneasiness." 
 
 " You'll overlook, you mean — ? " 
 
 " Yes, all you did, absolutely." 
 
 " Yes, yes, but what he did, or didn't — " 
 
 " I know, I know ; you might well fear annoy- 
 ance, with Dick what he is, I'm sorry to say. I 
 simply give you my word you'll not see him 
 again. I go straight from here and dismiss 
 him." 
 
 " It's not done already ? " 
 
 It was, but why — Brumby felt — let Dick's blood 
 go to waste when, by simply post-dating its shed- 
 ding, it came in so well for sealing a treaty ? 
 Again Mrs Fay looked up, to examine the skin 
 of this unknown species of grub. Fay examined 
 it, too, as it stood there before him, distilling 
 its kind of saliva. Once he began, "Mr 
 Brumby," quite seriously ; then he stopped, 
 as if he had had some thoughts of throwing 
 a lantern's light through a brick wall, but 
 had given them up. " Oh, you mustn't," he 
 sneered, "scarify your own flesh for my
 
 278 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 comfort. You'll keep that boy." It was almost 
 an order. 
 
 " D'you mean you won't mind ? " 
 
 " No. I'm that odd. You keep him ? " 
 
 " You wish it ? " 
 
 " No end to my eccentricity, is there ? It's 
 settled then ? " Brumby gave a bewildered assent, 
 a Roman uncle who now must go to his nephew 
 and say he is not quite Roman, really. " You 
 want me to-night?" Fay broke in on Brumby's 
 thoughts of this palinode. 
 
 " Well, if you could — Albry's speaking again. 
 Will you do him ? " 
 
 " At ten I'll be there." 
 
 " Right ! Good-night, Mrs Fay. Good-bye, my 
 dear fellow, at present, and — " the lust for a set- 
 piece, a joint pose for them all, was strong in 
 him ; yet all was not right ; the trumpets would 
 not blow full ; " — and all I say is, may our joint 
 work, yours and mine, do more than ever to keep 
 the flag of all that's loyal and frank and generous 
 — all that's essentially English — flying in public 
 life, and—" 
 
 " I'll let you out," said Fay, and Brumby gave 
 up ; the luffed sails would not belly. 
 
 They gone, Jemmy crept out of cover and
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 279 
 
 sat on the open floor ; he looked tired, like 
 one oppressed in mind with the strain of com- 
 prehending a portent. " The Lord bless us ! " 
 he said and was plunged again in exhausting re- 
 flections. 
 
 "Jemmy, Jemmy!" said his mother, remon- 
 strant, yet not dissentient. 
 
 The bang of the front door brought Jemmy to ; 
 he clambered to the window for a sight of the 
 departing monster. 
 
 " Colum, what made you give in, and Mr 
 Roads coming at any time ? " Mrs Fay asked, as 
 Fay entered. 
 
 " Did you not see the state he was in, fit 
 to go on his knees on the floor, or dear knows 
 what ? " 
 
 " Ah, then, and why not let him be rollin' his 
 own little dirty hoop for himself?" 
 
 " What ! And he apt to sling himself over a 
 bridge, he's that desprit, or take the head off him 
 the time he'd be shaving ! " 
 
 "Is it he? I question will he. You'd need 
 have a sort of a spunk to do that." 
 
 But still the voice of the weaker vessel was 
 merciful. 
 
 " Playin' at David, again," he said, " that's what
 
 280 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 he'd be, an' killing Goliaths an' all before him. 
 You wouldn't destroy his play on him, you 
 cruel woman, and he beggin' an' cryin', or 
 very close on, for the bits of smooth stones we 
 have here in the brook, the poor foolish old 
 child?" 
 
 " Father," Jemmy reported from the window, 
 " th' abominable man was here just now is talking 
 to another." 
 
 Fay peered down into the twilight. " It's 
 Roads," he whispered, and then, at a moment's 
 end, " they're off and away, colloguin', out of the 
 street." He came back pensive from the window. 
 " Will Roads be for not comin' nigh us, I wonder, 
 from this out ? " Then, with the sigh that uncouples 
 a mood, care yielded to business. " Do you think," 
 he asked, "you've the time to get on with that 
 leader ? " 
 
 " The one for that man ? " 
 
 " Ay, upon that speech of Albry's — it's not 
 long before he'll be at it." 
 
 She unhooded a typing machine, sat down, and 
 looked up at him, ready. He dictated in dull, 
 level tones : 
 
 "With a painful exactitude, passing at times into
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 281 
 
 contemptuous pity, Lord Albry pointed out last night 
 the lack of dignity, the abject touting for votes, 
 the . . . " 
 
 She looked up a moment. " Ah, then, he 
 might not say it, to-night," her caution ob- 
 jected. 
 
 " He will if he lives," said Fay's larger experi- 
 ence. He went on, dictating : — 
 
 "... the curious depths of self-abasement which 
 
 the machine politicians now dominant at Radical 
 
 headquarters have forced upon their titular leader, 
 the . . . " 
 
 A ring came, below. " Roads, after all ! " Fay 
 said. The ring was repeated, louder. " And the 
 temper gone on him," Fay added. 
 
 "Jemmy, there's a good boy," said his 
 mother, and Jemmy went out. She extin- 
 guished the machine. Their ears felt for 
 the grind of the unoiled latch and the creak 
 of the hinges of the door down below, and 
 then for the bounding step of Jemmy as he 
 fled aloft before the ascending guest. Was that 
 quite the way, his mother chid him, to treat 
 Mr Roads?
 
 282 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " Roads ! Not at all ! It's wan Pinn— or he 
 says so." 
 
 Jemmy's last words came, muffled, from under 
 the pendent screen of his earth. 
 
 Fay laughed. " Begob, is Goliath here now, for 
 his sword and his spear ? "
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 "And behold another beast, a second, like to a bear." 
 
 Daniel vii. 5 
 
 T was partly that Finn was not very well-bred, 
 A partly that bows and so forth are mere forms, 
 and this was no time for forms ; anyhow, Pinn did 
 not notice the lady at all — did not, indeed, salute 
 even Fay, formally ; he just came in and put down 
 his hat and then went with all his might at that 
 which his hand had found to do, as a workhouse 
 doctor goes straight at a case without offering any 
 delightful nothings about the weather. Fay 
 looked across to his wife, his eyelids lifted. " You 
 see," they said, " the kind of savage." Rude 
 things done to himself nearly always diverted 
 him; this made him angry, and, so, self-pos- 
 sessed. Anger enough will always lay 
 shyness. 
 
 " Fve not come here," Finn began, " to — " 
 " Good evening," Fay interrupted with a cor- 
 rective blandness, as a composed elder sets aside a 
 child'."; false start in manners. 
 
 2S3
 
 284 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 Pinn stared, almost jumped Still, he came 
 back, toed the line and started again. " Good 
 evening," he said — even now, it was only to Fay — 
 " I've not come here, I should tell you before I go 
 further, to unsay one word of — " 
 
 "No?" said Fay. "Then—" His eye, with 
 a leading expression, travelled towards the 
 door. 
 
 " Good God, man," Pinn cried, a note of incipient 
 dismay sounding cracked through the full blare of 
 bullying rectitude, "only last night, when by no 
 wish of mine, you were given a chance to redeem 
 your — your — " He spluttered, seeking a word 
 black to match Fay's roll of iniquities. 
 
 " Your ? " Fay prompted him suavely, " your 
 — shall we say, your own promise to 
 Brumby?" 
 
 " No, sir, your past," stormed the figure of 
 flustered virtue ; " only last night, it seems, you 
 must needs pass off as yours the work of another 
 man ! " 
 
 " And I not an editor, even ! " Fay mur- 
 mured. 
 
 The shocked tone was audible clearly. Pinn 
 could not afford, though, to hear. " What," he 
 ground on, ostentatiously set on his own run of
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 285 
 
 thought, " what, in the name of all that's true, 
 am I to think of you ; what am I to think of 
 you ? " By the second " think," the emphasis 
 had grown prodigious. Sufferer and nurse in 
 one, he rocked himself in a paroxysm of pity for 
 the pain it gave him to put hand again to so 
 dirty a tool. 
 
 Fay's knuckles, for once, poked out through the 
 glove. " I can express, as you know, a good 
 many things, but my indifference to what you 
 think of me — " He shrugged. " No, there's no 
 doing it." 
 
 The blow, given, half eased and half sickened 
 the striker ; mere punching is apt to. To Finn, 
 the suddenly pummelled, the world reeled and was 
 changed ; duty alone changed not ; thunderous as 
 ever, she roared to him still the old order to make 
 for that which he wanted. And he would ; he 
 was staunch ; only, if he must make for it bare- 
 footed, like this, across red-hot ploughshares, he 
 would at least go the nearest way. " I think," 
 he said in a hard-held voice, " I had better be 
 plain. If I overlook all that is past — if I take you 
 back to your post, will you give me an absolute 
 promise to do no other work of a similar kind for 
 anyone else ? "
 
 286 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " Oh, no ! No promise of any sort," Fay mur- 
 mured, shaking his head quite gently, as if in 
 rejection of some speculative proposition of small 
 moment. " Oh, no ! " 
 
 Pinn's entire experience as a dealer in literary 
 labour came to the ground in one piece. " No ! 
 Then — " He gave one fierce downward jerk to his 
 waistcoat with both hands, swept a sleeve swiftly, 
 with a peremptory air of departure, round a 
 quadrant of his hat, and turned to the door ; he 
 even made a step towards it ; how instinctive in us 
 all, by this time, is the traditional "business" in 
 the standard drama of insulted worth ! And yet 
 in the time of taking that step he had re-taken 
 hold of the horrible truth that here was no drama, 
 as drama should be ; all was derailed ; not for him 
 the flaming, towering exit of flouted and mud- 
 pelted dignity ; the price was prohibitive. Then, 
 once more, Nature, the milky mother, the all- 
 providing, put tactics into his heart that he was 
 not conscious of framing ; he turned again quickly 
 to Fay ; he softened ; he yearned towards him 
 almost, speaking to him in the voice of the mere 
 looker-on, the humane looker-on, who cannot 
 stand by and see a man drift to his ruin. 
 " Moloney," he started.
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 287 
 
 " Fay. ' Moloney served to grace my measure, 
 but Fay was still my real name.' You remember 
 the verses ? " 
 
 If there was a thing Pinn hated, it was a quota- 
 tion made just in this way from that larger 
 hemisphere of letters which he had not travelled. 
 However, he stomached it, things being desperate. 
 " Mr Fay," he began again, the benevolent on- 
 looker's tone very slightly impaired, "you have a 
 wife." 
 
 " You see that— at last ? " 
 
 A sheepish bow, minutely acknowledged by 
 Mrs Fay, was extorted from Pinn. Then, to Fay, 
 in low, earnest tones of remonstrance : " Have 
 you, before refusing my offer — have you — I'm 
 a husband myself and I ask — thought of 
 her?" 
 
 " I have — and of your having failed to, just 
 now. ' There's a form in these things, Mr 
 Pinn, there's a form.' You remember the 
 passage ? " 
 
 Whipped to a fury by these flippancies, Pinn 
 emitted a "Very well, sir! " of ultra-finality — you 
 would have thought — and made again for the 
 door. That door was impassable. It led, not to 
 an oil-clothed landing and stairs, but to a vertical
 
 288 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 drop into abolition, the death of his personality, as 
 men had felt it, all its individual, urgent push and 
 pressure. He could not walk across that door-mat 
 into annulment. It headed him back, it drove 
 him on to Fay again, this time with a corrugated 
 forehead, a tone of earnest, perplexed speculation, 
 divorced from all worldly interests, from every- 
 thing concrete. " Mr Fay, I can't make you 
 out." 
 
 " Need you ? " 
 
 " Need ! " Pinn drew nearer, amazed, con- 
 founded, that any man should raise such a 
 question. " Surely I need. Mustn't his world 
 be a whole to each man — ordered, a system ? To 
 give up that, to give up the hope of that, the effort 
 at that, would be death in the mind. And of my 
 world, for good or evil, you are a part." Fay 
 gave a grunt. " Ay, and a part of some moment." 
 Fay grunted again ; Pinn, to keep going at all, 
 had to take up the grunt as a modest disclaimer. 
 " Surely you cannot but know you have gifts of — 
 I may say, rare gifts. Oh, I don't blind myself 
 to the moral transgression — the Warder entangle- 
 ment . . ." 
 
 "Need we . . .?" Again that leading look 
 towards the door. But beyond it were darkness
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 289 
 
 and gnashing of teeth. Pinn tore on, shunning 
 arrest. "Still, I do think — you'll say if I'm 
 wrong — " Fay groaned rather than grunted his 
 disrelish for the post of arbiter — " but I do think 
 I've got at the key to that little — that little lapse 
 on your part — found it, you must let me say, in 
 the inferiority of your Warder work." 
 
 " Oh ! You're free to judge." Weary of depre- 
 cation, Fay let the noise run on. 
 
 " Am I free to conjecture, too — that over there 
 at the Warder your own convictions have never 
 found real expression ? " 
 
 " Dear me, yes. Do conjecture — anything." 
 
 " That in fact, the expression by you of Tory 
 prejudice there was nothing but, shall I say, 
 irony ? " 
 
 " Eh ? " said Fay, listening now. That Pinn 
 should so much as conceive the idea of irony 
 piqued him. 
 
 " Irony used, shall I say, in the spirit of drama, 
 just as Shakspeare, no doubt, had to keep down 
 his own progressive convictions in order to write, 
 as you'll notice, the most Tory speeches he gives 
 to one of his characters, Coriolanus ? " 
 
 " And others for Cade, the least bit different, 
 eh?" 
 
 19
 
 2 9 o A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " Precisely. Speeches for reactionaries of all 
 shades," assented Pinn ; his Tudor studies had 
 limits. " So, as I take it, your Warder leaders 
 were just dramatic efforts, written in imaginative 
 sympathy — and that, too, tinged with sarcasm, 
 and the views were not yours at all." 
 
 "You know, that's not ill put," said Fay, as if 
 to a boy whose cerebral night had admitted a 
 first ray. 
 
 "You think so?" Pinn cried hungrily. A 
 drowning man would grab at a scythe, to be 
 saved ; give him a barbed wire life-line, he'll tie 
 it on, naked. Pinn flung himself on to Fay's 
 words of indulgent contempt ; he twisted them 
 into the longed-for assent. "In that case," he 
 said, before Fay could say more, " I am bound, 
 as a clear-headed man, to withdraw, unreservedly, 
 any reflections I made last week on your con- 
 duct." 
 
 Fay, with his feeble pity for all souls in trouble, 
 winced to see this one, the second that night, 
 sneaking, at its own different gait, down the 
 same via dolorosa. " Unreservedly ? " he asked ; 
 the voice tried to ride trim, but the list to the 
 side of compunction was monstrous. 
 
 " Absolutely ! Unreservedly ! Thank God, I
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 291 
 
 know how to face facts and say, on cause shown 
 — ' I was wrong.' " 
 
 " Thank you, thank you," Fay muttered 
 evasively ; his eyes shirked the sweat on Pinn's 
 soiled-parchment face ; like distilled water tur- 
 bid, the drops, as they ran and paused, and ran 
 again, looked so foul and yet so insipid. 
 
 " And now," Pinn went on, " let me offer a 
 practical proof of good faith. Will you take up 
 your work again as leader - writer to the 
 Stalwart ? " 
 
 " At the — the old hours ? " Fay asked, to say 
 something. 
 
 Then Pinn, trembling, took heart a little. Fay 
 back at all would be much ; Fay back with a 
 warrant against traffic with the Midianites — how 
 much more would that be ! " Might I suggest an 
 hour earlier at both ends — to come and to go — 
 that is, if you don't mind?" 
 
 " I do," Fay said, and the silence of the next 
 seconds, in which he did not give a reason for 
 minding, defined their future relations. 
 
 " Oh, I don't press it." Thus did Pinn sign the 
 definition ; and then some god with a humour as 
 grisly as an imp's on Notre Dame put it in the 
 glum man's head to try the uses of playfulness.
 
 292 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " Only, remember ! " he said, " no irony ! No 
 drama ! " The red of his first shame had sunk, 
 but the sweat was wet still ; where the wrenched 
 laugh crumpled his face the blobs ran together, 
 like drops of rain on a pane, and made greyish 
 puddles in vales of dull grey. 
 
 " Remember," Fay said pretty grimly, " ' absol- 
 utely, unreservedly.' " 
 
 " True ! " That game was up. The wrinkled 
 paste of the grin that had not been of use was 
 rolled out, and the sweat held up in its folds was 
 undammed and flowed ticklingly in among the 
 sparse wires of Pinn's beard. He scratched the 
 teased chin. "You'd be ready — to-night?" His 
 voice was quite timid. 
 
 " Yes. One o'clock, then, as usual ? " 
 
 " Albry, second speech — eh ? For the leader ? 
 Right well you wrote on his first. Will you ? " 
 
 " Yes." Fay had not known till now, how 
 easy, when done in its place, the regal mono- 
 syllable is — the one-word speech that the tongue 
 can bestow like a cut gem, from the moment 
 when others must take it so. Then, too, for 
 the first time, he found he could give the look 
 that tells somebody else he may go. 
 
 Pinn bowed good-night to the lady, punctiliously
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 293 
 
 now ; he was well broken in ; Fay made a slight 
 feint to escort him downstairs. " Don't stir," 
 said Pinn ; he embraced like a very boon the 
 insult of the unmeant civility ; " I'll let myself 
 out." 
 
 " Can you ? At one, then." Fay nodded ; 
 he had learnt to nod, too ; and Pinn got out 
 as he could ; he did not exactly walk back- 
 wards, but Jemmy's eye, stuck to a place where 
 the tablecover had worn to a net, could see, 
 all the way, an edge of the grey face. 
 
 Then Jemmy crept out again, silent and 
 prostrate at first, as before, with giving to new 
 and dreadful images admittance into the soul. 
 " Aren't they the desperate set, the two of 
 them?" he said, when again himself, to his 
 silent parents. 
 
 " 'Deed are they ! " said his mother, with 
 conviction. " You'll be off to bed, dear, now," 
 she added presently. 
 
 Jemmy's good-nights filled part of a difficult 
 pause. Then the two elders were left, the 
 listening mind of the one enduring the upbraid- 
 ing of the other, both silent. 
 
 " Ach, an' he in the state that he was — doin' 
 every station of the Cross before our eyes ! "
 
 294 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 Fay broke out once, that one shred, of all the 
 silent dialogue, emerging into audibility ; so 
 the tip of one peak, out of whole ranges of 
 coral, will rise clear of the sea. 
 
 The dialogue broke off. " You'd like to go 
 on ? " she said ; she went to the typewriter 
 The interrupted leader lay there. 
 
 "Not that one. I'll do that at Brumby's the 
 best way I can. Pinn's I'd liefer see over and 
 done with, the way it would not be the weight 
 of the world on my mind, lest I go off to 
 sleep in a chair and I writing on till dear 
 knows when in the morning. Shall we make 
 just an offer to get it done?" 
 
 She took out the half-typed page and put 
 in a clean one. He dictated ; his voice was 
 just as before. 
 
 "The methods by which Lord Albry, during the 
 past four years, has lowered so gravely the standard 
 of responsibility in English public life received painful 
 illustration in his speech of last night. The groundless 
 detraction, the — " 
 
 " Colum ! " she broke out, and then stuck. 
 
 " Dear one ? " 
 
 " Colum, I don't like at all what you're doing."
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 295 
 
 "Eh?" he said guiltily. 
 
 "Partly, your health. It's the work of two 
 days every evening." 
 
 "Ah, then, whisht gabbin', dear child," he 
 laughed, much relieved. " Say, no work at all, 
 and that's what it is, but whistlin' old tunes, and 
 that only. Attend now." He spouted again, and 
 the outflow, facile before, was now quite osten- 
 tatiously effortless. 
 
 " The groundless detraction, the frivolous swash- 
 buckling, the violence tempered only by levity, were 
 all exemplified. The — " 
 
 " Colum," she burst in again, " it's not the 
 health only. It's this — is it right of us?" 
 
 "Ah?" said Fay. So the trouble was come. 
 All across the sky he had seen the cloud march- 
 ing upon him ; here was the first drop splashed 
 from it. And then, for one moment, it held 
 off; or, at least, he could shelter. For now, 
 when rings at the door no longer came laden 
 with moment, one tinkled below and tailed off 
 into silence. " I'll go," said Fay, jumping up. 
 Jemmy gone, there was no one to answer it. 
 
 Alone, she walked up and down, suddenly 
 stopping, then going on, pricked, past sitting
 
 296 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 still, by the thing she had not said. Her lips, 
 when the door re-opened, were framing to say 
 it, but through the door came, not Fay only, 
 bearing some letter, but Fay introducing, now 
 when the thought of him was past, the much- 
 postponed Roads.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 "So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, 
 And yet anon repairs his drooping head, 
 And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 
 Flames in the forehead of the morning sky." 
 
 Milton, Lye id as 
 
 P) OADS was more at his ease than any mere 
 -*■ *- note of his doings can tell ; each joint of 
 his jaws and limbs worked greasily with a 
 lubricant self-satisfaction ; words swished unc- 
 tuously out of him ; the facile insolence ran 
 sweet on its cool ball-bearings. " A true wife, I 
 see ! " He leered engagingly at the two chairs by 
 the writing-table. " Well," he plumped into the 
 softest of the others, — " I've known fools call 
 me a cynic, but those two chairs do me good." 
 The act of seating his body flowed rhythmically 
 into that of finding his cigars. And as with 
 his action, so with his voice. A break there 
 certainly was between one group of words 
 and the next, but a purr of continuous sound 
 ran on, as a working gramophone murmurs 
 
 across the blanks between bursts of articulate 
 
 297
 
 298 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 noise. Each speech was the second stage of 
 Creation — not a making of something where 
 nothing had been ; rather, what had been 
 void took form. " And now " — the spirit of 
 Roads moved again on the face of the waters — 
 "if Mrs Fay will allow two Bohemians — you'll 
 join me ? " 
 
 " Thanks. No." 
 
 " Not ? And you think you're a journalist ? 
 Well" — Roads picked a cigar for himself — "if 
 Mrs Fay will allow one Bohemian — " 
 
 " My wife is not leaving us," Fay said, and 
 eyed the cigar, as Roads felt, rudely. From boy- 
 hood, you see, Roads, when going by train, had 
 always jumped into non-smoking compartments, 
 as being less crowded and stuffy, and had then 
 filled his pipe, lit a match, and courteously said, 
 with his thumb jamming down the tobacco, 
 " Objection to smoking ? " ; so he felt, very fairly, 
 that courtesy should be returned. In a working 
 journalist, too, meeting a man of position, the 
 want of politeness was complicated with a want 
 of sense, which distressed a clear mind. But 
 Roads was not there to give away knowledge of 
 life ; he was a business man on a business errand. 
 So he only purred a little less as he put his cigar-
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 299 
 
 case away and made him a second opening out of 
 the way his first had been countered. 
 
 " I like you," he said ; " you're straight. And 
 you're able to write. You know that ? " 
 
 "In the sense you mean — yes." 
 
 "And you — now, I'll be straight too — you want 
 money ? " 
 
 " I find it has uses. And you ? " 
 
 " I've the money, and I want your stuff. It's 
 good. See, I don't beat you down. It's 
 good." 
 
 " It ? What, exactly—? " 
 
 " What do I go by ? Well " — he hung a 
 moment, savouring his own shrewdness — " which 
 would you rather I went by ? Stalwart — eh ? 
 Or Warder ? " He twinkled with happy, con- 
 tained roguishness. Fay, with a gesture, dis- 
 claimed desire to guide the selection of samples. 
 " You see, I know a thing or two — two things in 
 fact — " the shrewd man babbled on. 
 
 " I see." 
 
 " You mean, how do I know ? Well, not by 
 asking. You don't want to ask. I just stood 
 still, and let 'em ram it into me." 
 
 " Them ? Yes, I see." 
 
 " Finn first ; two hours ago ; he came round to
 
 3 oo A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 me — ' Simply a matter of duty,' you know, and all 
 that — must ' put me on my guard ' ; see ? " 
 
 " Against me ? Yes." 
 
 " He'd given you a chance, he said ; found you 
 didn't know the work ; up to tricks, too. ' I had 
 to fire him out,' he said — no, ' terminated his 
 engagement ' — that was it — ' a fortnight ago.' " 
 
 Fay fingered Roads' note, with expression. 
 Pinn's testimonial, alone, would scarcely ex- 
 plain it. 
 
 Roads met the interrogation. " You see he'd a 
 slave-of-conscience look on him that thick a fool 
 could tell he was up to some game. So I breathed 
 my gratitude — just a few broken words, y'know ; 
 I'd needed telling that, I said — hadn't known you 
 wrote at all. He coughed a bit. ' You'd like,' he 
 says, ' to see some of his stuff, and judge for your- 
 self ? ' he says, anxious-like. ' Well,' I said, 
 1 well ? ' I always let 'em run their own heads 
 into it. ' Seen the Warder s leaders all last 
 week ? ' he says. ' No,' I said, ' thank God,' just to 
 be nice to him. ' Well,' he says, ' if you want to 
 know Fay's hand, I'm told he has had work at the 
 Warder. Verb sap,' he says, and then he offed 
 out of it. Well, I didn't read the Warder, I got 
 thinking. Last Tuesday week, he said, he'd fired
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 301 
 
 you. Very next day the Stalwart had the leader 
 that knocked 'em at the club. Was it you wrote 
 it ? — I thought I'd just come round and ask ; so I 
 wrote." 
 
 " Well — " Fay was beginning. 
 
 Roads, radiant, stopped him. " Oh, no need, 
 now. What don't I know, now ? Why, I met the 
 other beauty on your doorstep. He jumped, 
 first ; then he looked sad. ' Don't mind me,' he 
 says, ' I'm a little upset, for I've just done the 
 beastliest job of my life. I've just sacked a man 
 in that house,' he says, ' and I know he's a rotten 
 bad man at his trade, and a nasty untrustworthy 
 fellow, but then there's a wife,' he says, ' there's a 
 child ; I can't forget that,' he says. I walked him 
 a bit up the street. ' One does feel it,' I said, 
 ' though the beggar, maybe, has only been with 
 you some days.' ' It's years,' he snivelled — ' this 
 one.' My turn to jump, hearin' that. I knew 
 some game had been on, and here was Finn's 
 game getting queered with this other old hen 
 starting in playing across the one pitch. Between 
 'em they pretty well indexed the whole of your 
 stuff before I let go — leaders, music, the whole 
 boiling. Now — d'you know? — it's good." 
 
 Fay bowed. Roads amplified the tribute
 
 302 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " Rot, you know, really — I know that as well as 
 yourself — but rot that tells ; it goes home to folk 
 — shows 'em they're really doing a duty where 
 anyone might have thought they were only just 
 getting a knife into folk they'd a down on. Then, 
 the way you hand out the good marks to those 
 fiddlers — well, I can't read that sort of thing 
 myself — never could, except once in a way, when 
 I have to, for business — but even then it almost 
 makes a plain business man feel he could show 
 whole orchestras the way to do it. It's upliftin' to 
 the public." Fay again bowed, with due gravity. 
 " But, I say," Roads went on, " ain't you tired — 
 even if you hadn't lost these jobs of yours — ain't 
 you tired of playing up to only half your public — 
 pretty short half, too — two out of ten, more like. 
 D'you never think of writing at the whole lot — 
 right at the whole country ? " 
 
 " The country ? " 
 
 "What's the country, you're asking? I'll tell 
 you. D'y'ever observe — " but here Roads in 
 his turn was invaded by the monologist's craving 
 for the hearth-rug. " Would you not make him 
 sit in a chair, this poor, tired husband of yours ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Perhaps Mr Roads would be happier," Mrs
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 303 
 
 Fa)' said. A stress on the " happier " warned 
 Fay against feckless softenings presently. Fay 
 sat. 
 
 " D'y'ever notice," Roads resumed, rising, it 
 seemed, in abstraction, and taking the tribune, 
 " that, of every ten men you know, there's two, 
 shall we say, that wouldn't vote Radical — not 
 if an angel came down with a shout, just to 
 make 'em ? Now, are those two the country ? " 
 
 " I don't say that." 
 
 " Brumby, the bat, does. They're not, though. 
 I'm a Conservative myself, in private life, and 
 yet I say they're not. That's two. There's 
 other two wouldn't vote Tory for all the angels 
 in the Primrose League. Are they the country, 
 then?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't say that either." 
 
 " Pinn does, the old moth ! And they ain't, 
 as you say, either. Why, those four make just 
 nought, the one brace equalling and destroying 
 th' other brace, plus and minus, same as algebra ; 
 and more than half the country — six in ten — 
 not hove in sight yet. Six in ten ? Eight in 
 ten, more like. And where are they, all this 
 time? Sitting at home; minding their little bit 
 of betting ; taking a sup of beer — to it a draw
 
 304 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 of 'baccy ; formin' instructed views on Saturday's 
 League matches ; except there's talk, shall we 
 say, of puttin' up a war, and then, with th' 
 instincts of perfect sportsmen, they're up and 
 out of the house in an instant of time, hollerin' 
 out, ' Go Nap,' on a soft thing, or ' God's sake, 
 pass — it's a wrong 'un.' Rest of the time the 
 other four men, Pinn's lot and Brumby's lot, 
 think out the issues and that, and vote same 
 way as last time, just holdin' each other, and 
 so nothing happens, till one of the sterling six, 
 the Old Guard, no frothin' politicians, but the 
 bone and sinew of the nation, comes up and 
 says : ' I don't rightly know about such things,' 
 he'll say, • thank God ! and don't care ; but here 
 goes, anyway,' he'll say, and he'll sling his vote 
 — p'r'aps for a man that keeps a good horse, 
 p'raps for a man that looks evenly fed on a 
 platform — and Cab'nets rise and perish. It's 
 constitutional government. Now, I know those 
 six men. You think I'm vain, to say it?" 
 
 "No, no." 
 
 " I say it, anyhow, and chance it. Know 'em ? 
 Why, how shouldn't I, and every bar alive with 
 'em. And what I say is this — isn't the Press 
 to stand by those men ? Sha'n't it read the
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 305 
 
 souls of those six — eight, still, strong men? 
 Ain't some piercin', glowin' mind, same as yours, 
 to fix and stiffen up for 'em their every impulse, 
 givin' it just the backin' of sound principle they 
 hadn't 'ad the time to think of— how should 
 they, with the lot o' things they have to see to ? 
 Sir, it's — it's the strongest game that's waiting 
 to be played in journalism. Understan' me?" 
 
 "You're limpid." 
 
 " The strongest game in journalism. And / 
 can't play it. See, I'm straight — I tell you 'ow 
 it's got to be played, but I can't do it — not 
 alone ; for I can't write, never could. You can. 
 One thing, you've got the knack of slanging 
 folk in a broad, judicial spirit, not roarin' and 
 stamping like Brumby and Pinn, as if you could 
 see there was no one listenin', but lickin' your 
 tongue quiet and oily and gentle round the 
 curse words till it's like a whole court was 
 holdin' it's breath while the beak starts to dress 
 down a coster that hasn't remembered his 
 manners." 
 
 Fay bowed again, and the stream ran on : 
 
 " Here's another point — if you've written well, 
 
 as I said, how much better you'll write, with 
 
 all the scope you'll have — voicin' every mood 
 20
 
 306 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 of the country ; one day it's weariness, like, 
 when it's a bit off it — not having any serious 
 politics to-day, thanks — only a feelin' of the 
 hollowness of things ; and then, come next 
 week, its buoyant optimism an' firm, crisp 'old 
 on life, and what not? All that range and 
 freedom after the crampy lines you've had to 
 work on, damnin' one small lot of cranks to 
 buck up another. Why, you've only to give 
 your own powers free play at giving the country 
 the thing that the country wants — the six-man 
 country, mind you — no potty two-man country 
 for us ! — and there'll be an itch a day in six 
 heads out o' ten till they've read your stuff. 
 Itch ! — it's there now, waiting for us two to 
 rub it — you, in my paper. I put it straight 
 now — will you ? " 
 
 " There's one thing," Fay said suspensively. 
 
 " Yes ? " Roads craned to hear. 
 
 " It's merely a point of — Oh, I suppose the 
 thing to say's — conscience." 
 
 Roads grew anxious. "One moment," he said, 
 " I love a conscientious man — " 
 
 "The affection shines through you," Fay said 
 very softly. 
 
 " — by which I mean a man of strong con-
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 307 
 
 science, healthy conscience, not of a conscience 
 that can't go out when it rains." 
 
 " Yes, yes, we're all fine, robust moralists ; 
 but I'm not being noble just now. I'm serious. 
 My point is — " 
 
 " Do let it be serious, indeed, if it's for it 
 you won't take a lift out of the old party 
 ditch." 
 
 "That!" Fay grimaced. "No. It's a point 
 of what you might call honesty." 
 
 " Don't be a faddist, now." Fear again over- 
 cast Roads. 
 
 " Honesty — towards you." 
 
 " Well, if that's all ? " 
 
 " It's this. I don't want to give to your work 
 the hours at which most leaders are written." 
 
 Roads was hilarious. " Bless you, I don't want 
 those. Why, we'll be all through the North 
 by the time the old stick-in-the-muds start the 
 night's work. Good lord, if they hadn't sacked 
 you, you'd have time to do our little job and 
 then go round and put each of them in a bit 
 for himself." Roads roared at his fantasy. 
 
 " In that case — " Fay looked at his wife ; then 
 not being helped, he decided alone. 
 
 " You'll stand in ? " Roads said cheerily.
 
 308 A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 " Yes, provided, of course — " 
 
 "Ah, I think we'll meet as to terms." The 
 economic value of high wages was one of the 
 secrets Roads had mastered ; the mastery steeled 
 him to give them with unaffected freedom from 
 pain. " Shall we — now ? Or later ? " 
 
 "Later — d'you mind?" Fay looked at the 
 clock. He had learnt fluency in rudeness 
 to-night. 
 
 "Sacked you, did they?" Roads chuckled to 
 Fay as Fay let him into the street. " We'll 
 teach 'em." 
 
 Fay came up the stairs, not at ease. He had 
 cause. "Colum," his wife said, checking her 
 pacing round the carpet, " I'm not happy." 
 
 He held her still, imprisoning and caressing. 
 " Love, love, what is it ? " 
 
 "They had me tormented enough already, the 
 two that were in it before." 
 
 "Fearing for your Susannah, eh?" His voice 
 played and consoled, like a stroking hand. " And 
 now there are three elders ? " 
 
 She was past stroking. "That's the way, 
 Colum — you joke, and I wretched." 
 
 " Ah then, what is it, my darling ? You ' don't 
 think it right,' was it? Cruel, is that what
 
 A HIND LET LOOSE 309 
 
 you mean, of me — pickin' up all these grubs and 
 worms, the way that you'd see an old bird, an' 
 stuffin' them into the bill of the Jemmy that's 
 now busy roostin' above there ? " 
 
 " Ach, I don't mind them at all ! " She spurned 
 the idea. " It's—" 
 
 " What, dear one ? " 
 
 " Colum, you have a great turn for the writing. 
 Don't use it to do wrong." 
 
 " Is it " — comprehension dawned — " harm 
 Ireland?" 
 
 "Aye is it — help them that harm her. Not 
 in your right mind — I know ; you're a good 
 man, Colum ; you wouldn't ; but then don't I 
 know the way that it is with the writing — the 
 way lights come out, and you going on, and 
 things run in clear on you. It's then, before you 
 knew it at all, you might some time or other be 
 seeing — the way it'd be, written up on a wall — 
 the thing'd be good for England to do for her- 
 self an' not Ireland." 
 
 "And saying it?" 
 
 " Before you knew, perhaps, at all." 
 
 " Ah, then, I'm not that bad." He was tenderly 
 remonstrant ; the kiss, like a pledge, soothed 
 her. " Shall we on ? " he said, and she went to
 
 3 ro A HIND LET LOOSE 
 
 the typewriter. " The one for the Stalwart ? " 
 he asked, and began, at her nod, to dictate : — 
 
 " Is there, we venture to ask, no limit to the per- 
 missible economy of truth ? " 
 
 " Have you that ? " he asked in a moment. 
 
 She clicked in two last letters. " Yes." 
 
 The work proceeded. Displaced things, which 
 
 had had to move roughly back into place, moved 
 
 smoothly on in their places again.
 
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 COLSTONS LIMITED 
 
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 NO TALES. 
 
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 THE WALL. 
 
 Nesbit (E.) THE RED HOUSE. 
 
 Norris(W. E.). HIS GRACE. 
 
 GILES INGILBY. 
 
 THE CREDIT OF THE COUNTY. 
 
 LORD LEONARD THE LUCKLESS. 
 
 MATTHEW AUSTIN. 
 
 CLARISSA FURIOSA. 
 
 Oliphant (Mrs.). THE LADY'S WALK. 
 SIR ROBERT'S FORTUNE. 
 THE PRODIGALS. 
 THE TWO MARYS. 
 
 Oppenheim (E. P.). MASTER OF MEN. 
 
 Parker (Gilbert). THE POMP OF THE 
 
 LAVILETTES. 
 WHEN VALMONDCAMETOPONTIAC. 
 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD. 
 
 Pemberton (Max). THE FOOTSTEPS 
 
 OF A THRONE. 
 I CROWN THEE KING. 
 
 Phillpotts (Eden). THE HUMAN BOY. 
 CHILDREN OF THE MIST. 
 THE POACHER'S WIFE. 
 THE RIVER. 
 
 'Q' (A. T. Quiiler Couch). THE 
 
 WHITE WOLF. 
 
 Ridge (W.Pett). A SON OFTHE STATE. 
 
 LOST PROPERTY. 
 
 GEORGE and THE GENERAL. 
 
 ERE. 
 
 Russell (W. Clark). ABANDONED. 
 A MARRIAGE AT SEA. 
 MY DANISH SWEETHEART. 
 HIS ISLAND PRINCESS. 
 
 Sergeant (Adeline). THE MASTER OF 
 
 BEECHWOOD. 
 BARBARA'S MONEY. 
 THE YELLOW DIAMOND. 
 THE LOVF THAT OVERCAME. 
 
 Sidgwick (Mrs. Alfred). THE KINS- 
 MAN. 
 
 Surtees (R. S.). HANDLEY CROSS. 
 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 
 ASK MAMMA. 
 
 WaIford(Mrs. L. B.). MR. SMITH. 
 
 COUSINS. 
 
 THE BAFVS GRANDMOTHER. 
 
 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Wallace (General Lew). BEX-HUR. 
 THE FAIR GOD. 
 
 Watson (H. B. Marriott). I 1 1 1 . A I "VEN- 
 TURERS. 
 
 Weekes (A. B.). PRISONERS OF WAR. 
 Wells (H. O.). THE SEA LADY. 
 White (Percy). A PASSIONATE 
 PILGRIM.
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 8AYLOKO 
 
 
 
 PRINTED IN U .».*.
 
 liS, SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
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