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 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 Of CIUF. LIBim y , MS
 
 THE 
 OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM ROMAINE PATERSON 
 
 (BENJAMIN SWIFT) 
 
 Mem Gedanke ist wit tin Tan-z.tr 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
 1911
 
 Copyright, f(?ff, 
 BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 
 
 jill rightt rettrvtd^ 
 Published, May, 1911 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 IF the author were asked why he wrote 
 this little story he could only stammer an 
 unsatisfactory reply. For the book simply 
 grew during three years in a mind that was 
 busy with different, very different things. 
 Out of a chaos and phantasmagoria of char- 
 acters, impressions, suggestions, there grad- 
 ually began to emerge the face and figu're 
 of a pleasant old man, one Habenichts, who 
 had been buffeted but not vanquished by 
 Fortune. 
 
 And then, in his train, came limping, some- 
 times in groups, sometimes singly, a strange, 
 dingy crowd, who, however, began to brighten 
 somewhat at the touch of Habenichts, the old 
 dance master. In vain the writer tried to 
 drive him and them out of his mind. They 
 
 2133077
 
 vi PEEFACE 
 
 postured before him, became obstinate, im- 
 portunate, articulate. He began to listen for 
 their footfall and their voices. Lo, they were 
 already dancing in his brain, and whispering 
 all sorts of gossip in his ear, and at last they 
 compelled him to sit down, and he became 
 their stenographer. 
 
 WILLIAM ROMAINE PATERSON.
 
 THE 
 
 OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 CHAPTER FIRST 
 
 IT was almost half-past six on a January evening, 
 and, with one exception, the night cabs had left the 
 yard not to return till seven or eight o'clock next 
 morning. A smart hansom with horse yoked and 
 lamps lit stood in the middle of Larkin's cab-yard, 
 while Vardy, the stable-boy, rubbed with a yellow 
 rag the rings and buckles of the harness, the terrets, 
 the bridle ornaments, the breeching, and the shaft 
 straps. He was whistling and hissing in the manner 
 which grooms enjoy and horses approve. The fine 
 gloss of the roof and the sides of the hansom, the shin- 
 ing wheels, the polished glass of the lamps and the 
 windows, the burnished, silver-mounted " butterfly " 
 through which the long reins pass before they reach 
 the driver's hands, and the glittering harness were not 
 only a credit to Vardy, but seemed to suggest that the 
 cab was no ordinary vehicle. It had, indeed, been 
 a private hansom, and whatever clean water and 
 chamois leather could do was daily done for it.
 
 2 THE OLD DANCE MASTEE 
 
 Together with the horse and the harness, it had cost 
 Mr. Samuel Larkin, the proprietor, one hundred and 
 thirty-eightr pounds sterling, had been purchased from 
 the estate of a gentleman deceased, and had been con- 
 sidered to be a remarkable bargain. The upholstery 
 was of green morocco leather, and there was a deep 
 pocket under each of the side windows. The rubber 
 foot-mat was intact and spotless, and the cab was 
 furnished with a neat inner lamp fixed at the back, 
 two mirrors, an ivory match-box holder, and a silver- 
 plated ash-tray. In fact, it was the smartest thing on 
 the London cab ranks, and it had been bought in one 
 of Larkin's expansive, expensive moments after he 
 had had two or three double-shotted drinks. By the 
 shape of his hocks, his loins, and his shoulders, the 
 chestnut horse was obviously an old hunter, and his 
 name, which was " Audacity," fitted him as perfectly 
 as his harness. Eor, as if to give warning that his 
 pride and fire were not yet extinct, he grew skittish 
 in the streets, and sometimes jibbed in indignation 
 over his new work of pulling instead of leaping. Mr. 
 Larkin had never intended either the horse or the 
 hansom to do night work. He was very proud of both, 
 and he called the turn-out his " private consarn." He 
 stood admiring it while he smoked his pipe at his 
 house door, which abutted on the yard, and his burly 
 figure almost filled the doorway. The square in- 
 candescent gas lamp fixed on the lintel threw down
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 3 
 
 abundant light on the white-washed entrance step, 
 and displayed the bulky man dressed in a snuff- 
 coloured suit and a dusty bowler hat. His grey, heavy 
 moustache, full, red, weather-beaten cheeks, and his 
 eyes, that seemed always to be looking towards wide 
 horizons, gave him the appearance of a farmer. There 
 was, besides, sufficient light streaming across the yard 
 to show up the small head, fine ears, silken mane, and 
 well-built legs and fetlocks of old " Audacity." 
 
 " Is that you, Joey ? " asked Larkin. 
 
 " Yes, s'r," said Vardy, who was on the off-side 
 and was polishing the right winker with the rag which 
 was as yellow and as stained as his breeches and his 
 leather leggings. 
 
 " What 's this 'ere wehicle goin' out to-night for ? " 
 
 " Special job, guv'nor," replied Vardy, with a sort 
 of mock solemnity, and in a tone which was about an 
 octave deeper than usual. 
 
 " What job, Joey ? Never heard on it." 
 
 " 'Im as drives knows," answered the boy, smiling, 
 and resting his hand on the saddle-tree. 
 
 "Swefling?" 
 
 " Yes, s'r. Woa, *oss, woa ! " cried Vardy, seizing 
 the bridle, because " Audacity " was growing more 
 audacious, and was threatening to plunge in the direc- 
 tion of the gate. " Steady there, will yer ! " 
 
 " Where is he, Joey ? " asked Mr. Larkin, leaning 
 against the door-post.
 
 4 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " In the 'arness-room," said Vardy, who now came 
 round to the near side where his lean figure became 
 fully visible, while his scarlet braces looked bright 
 under the cab lamp. 
 
 For although the night was cold the boy was jack- 
 etless and waistcoatless, and the sleeves of his blue 
 shirt were rolled up as far as the elbows. 
 
 " That 'a funny. I call it funny. He never said 
 nothin' to me," remarked Mr. Larkin, and then 
 crossed his feet as if he had decided to wait for an 
 explanation. " Had supper, Joey ? " 
 
 "Just goin', Mr. Larkin. Ain't it sharp them 
 nights ? I do feel 'clined for a hinside linin'," for 
 such was Vardy's definition of a meal. 
 
 " Ain't that a pretty consarn, Joey ? " asked Mr. 
 Larkin, pointing to the cab. 
 
 " No mistake. A stunner. Riglar flasher. I 'm 
 blarmed if she ain't up to the knocker," replied 
 Vardy, inwardly cursing because while he was kept 
 cooling his heels in the yard his supper of hot eels 
 was cooling in the slap-bang shop across the street. 
 
 Swefling, who was putting on his coat and his 
 gloves in the harness-room, was Larkin's best whip, 
 and the fact that the best cab and the two fastest 
 trotters, " Audacity " and " Ready Money," were 
 assigned to him was a matter of jealousy among the 
 other men. Vardy and old Tom, the one-eyed stable- 
 man, refused to be spies, but Swefling had enemies in
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 5 
 
 the yard, and they resented his luck, his smart dress- 
 ing, and his considerable airs. Moreover, they were 
 suspicious that he was in love with Mr. Larkin's 
 daughter. To Vardy, however, he was nothing less 
 than a hero. Certain of Swelling's horse-breaking 
 feats on Larkin's Essex farm for Sam was a small 
 breeder had aroused astonishment in the stable- 
 boy. He believed that every horse-tamer was a great 
 man, and he yearned to have a hand and a leg like 
 Swelling's. Vardy hoped that in a year or two he 
 likewise would be driving a cab, and would be seeing 
 and enjoying London from the dicky. Eor he de- 
 spised the new motors which threatened destruction 
 to men like Larkin, and were lowering profits and 
 wages in all the old cab-yards. Was it not true that 
 " Swef " was competing against them with tolerable 
 success ? Although the old cabs were being sold for a 
 five-pound note apiece, and although Sam Larkin 
 spoke of giving up the business, and going home to 
 Essex, Swefling came back to the yard every night 
 with money jingling in his pockets. In Piccadilly or 
 Pall Mall, round about clubland, Swefling was picked 
 out by well-dressed fares of both sexes. He and his 
 shining cab drew attention. The silk hat slightly, 
 but ever so slightly, cocked, the dark blue, double- 
 buttoned overcoat surmounted by a clean white collar, 
 the clean white whip and his manner of holding it, 
 the style in which Swefling brought his wheel and the
 
 6 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 kerb within a hair's breadth of nearness, the engaging 
 smile with which he welcomed his fares, lifted his 
 reins out of the way of their hats, and then bent for- 
 ward to receive instructions, all this seemed to show 
 that in number 7006 there were good manners, gaiety, 
 and even a kind of romance not usually discovered 
 among the drivers of hackney carriages. While other 
 men were making shillings he was making half- 
 crowns. While they were cursing the motor-cabs he 
 was thanking Providence and Larkin for his good for- 
 tune. Oh the free life in the streets of London and 
 the music of the wheels! Of course it was only be- 
 cause the turn-out was so distinctive that its driver 
 was able to handle more silver than what his rivals 
 could count up at the close of the day. 
 
 " Tin," said Vardy to him one day, in envy and 
 admiration, " you 've 'atf uls of it ! " 
 
 The truth was, however, that the profits fluctuated. 
 But Mr. Richard Swefling was a man of ambition, 
 although he was meanwhile content, and enjoyed his 
 life. In spite of the moustache he had rather the cut 
 of a huntsman or whipper-in, and perhaps it was 
 because he was sitting on such a high perch above 
 his fellow-men that he had acquired a certain air of 
 condescension. Constant exposure to the weather 
 made him look as if he had lately arrived from the 
 country. But although he did make periodical visits 
 to Larkin's farm near Epping, he spent his days and
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 7 
 
 nights in London. Here, too, he was able in all 
 weathers to live an outdoor life. Except to oblige a 
 pal, however, he seldom was on night duty. And 
 when he could not handle the ribbons himself he 
 never employed a " buck." He called for his cab 
 about 9 a.m., changed horses at 3 p.m., remained in 
 the streets until the theatres " burst " (as cabmen 
 say), which is about 11 p.m., and he came back to 
 the stable about midnight. That was his day, and 
 in his own opinion only a fool would grumble at it. 
 Larkin had always found him to be a steady payer, 
 and on that particular January evening, Swefling 
 handed over eleven shillings for the day's hire of the 
 cab. Since he had asked a night off, however, and 
 would be the loser if the hire for a full day had to be 
 paid, Larkin gave back two shillings. It was because 
 Swefling had said that he would n't be working that 
 night that the proprietor was so surprised to see 
 " Audacity " between the shafts again. 
 
 " Swef," cried Vardy, putting his hand at the side 
 of his mouth in order to make the sound travel better, 
 " are yer on the ramble ? Guv'nor 's been wytin' 
 abaht 'arf-an-hour." 
 
 " Coming," responded a voice from the harness- 
 room. 
 
 Vardy stepped on the footboard, and slipped the 
 twenty-feet reins through the " butterfly." Then he 
 gave a last flick with his rag to the " dash " and the
 
 8 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 heelboard, and, as he was coming off the cab, he 
 glanced towards the house door where Mr. Larkin was 
 still standing. The reason why he exclaimed " Oh 
 my eye ! " was because he saw immediately behind the 
 proprietor the charming figure of Miss Dorothy 
 Larkin in a pink hood and a pink cloak, as if ready 
 for a theatre or a ball. In her right hand she had a 
 fan and a pair of white satin slippers, and with her 
 left she held up the edge of a besilvered muslin skirt. 
 Dorothy was agitated. 
 
 There was a commotion and a look of annoyance 
 in her face; then came a frown which was followed 
 by pouting, and she seemed to be at a loss to know 
 whether to advance or retire. Since she wished to 
 avoid notice, she should have gone through the 
 kitchen, where, by means of a door which opened into 
 the old coach-houses, she could have found a round- 
 about way to the yard. But, to be sure, Mr. Larkin 
 would thus have seen her entering the cab. Besides, 
 she guessed that Mr. Larkin 's sisters were in the 
 kitchen, and when the reader becomes acquainted 
 with them he will understand why Dorothy paused. 
 If Mrs. Muzzey had been alone, our remarkable hero- 
 ine might have ventured to face her, but there was 
 also Mrs. Bleeks, who was as formidable as a she- 
 bear. 
 
 That had been an unlucky day. Even as late as a 
 quarter-past five o'clock, it was still supposed that
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 9 
 
 Mr. Larkin, Mrs. Muzzey, and Mrs. Bleeks were 
 going to spend the evening with friends in Euston 
 Square. But at the last moment Mrs. Bleeks com- 
 plained of a headache, and whenever Mrs. Bleeks had 
 a headache, Mrs. Muzzey declared she had one too. So 
 that unknown to Dorothy, who was dressing, Vardy 
 was sent with apologies. Now, some days ago Dorothy 
 had asked Swefling to drive her secretly to Jellini's 
 Dancing Academy, in Tottenham Court Road. She 
 had already made frequent and clandestine visits 
 there, and was the star of the rooms. But this was to 
 be a gala night, and the pupils were expected to make 
 a brave display. In vain, and long ago, Dorothy had 
 implored her aunts to allow her to learn dancing. 
 They had steadily refused permission, and her father 
 had agreed with them. Many a time she had shut 
 the great doors of one of the empty coach-houses, and 
 all alone had practised her steps on the brick floor. 
 During stray hours in the forenoon she had stealthily 
 hurried to Jellini's, where she had got herself en- 
 rolled, and had been taught the more elaborate move- 
 ments of intricate dances. And she reddened when 
 Mrs. Bleeks inquired why she took such a long time 
 over her shopping. Prolonged exasperation had made 
 the red-lipped, dark-haired, dark-eyed, white-slip- 
 pered Dorothy very bold. She determined to present 
 her enemies with the accomplished fact. Yet as the 
 night of the pupils' ball approached she grew nervous,
 
 10 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 and she hoped to return safely from her great adven- 
 ture long after Mrs. Muzzey and Mrs. Bleeks would 
 have their grey heads in their night-caps. 
 
 Dorothy was seventeen, and her dark liquid eyes 
 had begun to look out upon the world in expectancy 
 and wonder. She was judged to be singularly at- 
 tractive, and she had a way with her, a grace and a 
 carriage, which astonished people when they heard of 
 her curious surroundings in the cab-yard. But she 
 was already aware of irrepressible instincts to which 
 she found no response in those surroundings. She 
 loved music, and she read poetry and made steady 
 efforts to complete what had been on the whole a good 
 education. Her love of picture galleries was con- 
 demned by her aunts, who said that it boded no good 
 character and proved her to be an idle, pleasure-loving 
 creature. She displayed, too, an uncommon gift for 
 drawing and painting. But although her little Essex 
 landscapes in oils and water-colours were really re- 
 markable, the best of all were the realistic sketches of 
 the cab-yard, the old cabs, the horses, and the differ- 
 ent types of London cabmen. Swelling, for instance, 
 was immeasurably puffed up when he heard that she 
 had painted him driving " Audacity " in the smart 
 hansom. But it was to an old farmhouse, not far 
 from Colchester, that the girl's earliest memories and 
 affections clung. In the eyes of her aunts her un- 
 pardonable sin consisted in her resemblance to her 
 
 .
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 11 
 
 mother, for they had never loved their late sister-in- 
 law. What, however, greatly troubled Dorothy that 
 night was not merely her old fear of her aunts. At 
 the worst she might be stripped of her besilvered 
 muslin dress and sent to bed. But she was afraid 
 that Swefling, as her accomplice, might also suffer. 
 Swelling ha,d come to the yard when Dorothy was 
 fourteen, and she had never heard either from Mrs. 
 Muzzey or from Mrs. Bleeks a single good word in his 
 favour. As she grew older she began to speak up and 
 to speak out for him. She used to watch him driving 
 into and out of the yard. If she were at the parlour 
 window he would smile to her from the dicky as he 
 passed, and bring his whip to his hat To the aston- 
 ishment of the old women they once found their niece 
 in the parlour, giving Swefling tea in a cup which 
 belonged to the best china service. There was a 
 scene, and Swefling was ordered into the yard, but 
 Dorothy told him to take his tea with him. Unluckily 
 he laid the cup and the saucer in the horse trough in 
 " Audacity's " stall. " Audacity " touched them both 
 with his nose, and having no use for such things he 
 dashed them against the wall where they were broken 
 beyond repair. Dorothy, who never heard the end 
 of that story, was told that she should be called 
 " Audacity." 
 
 It is true that long indulgence in gin blunts the 
 sense of smell, and yet Mrs. Bleeks was aware of a
 
 12 THE OLD DAKCE MASTER 
 
 new, strange, and delightful perfume which filled the 
 rambling lobby that connected the kitchen with the 
 other rooms and the main door. Asking herself if she 
 was drunk, or if the wallflower in the window-boxes 
 could by a miracle be blooming in January, she came 
 sniffing and shuffling through the passage, tapping 
 with her stick. As she moved along it seemed to her 
 that the fragrance was growing stronger. Mrs. 
 Bleeks had her head bound slantwise with a white 
 handkerchief which formed a band across her right 
 eye, and, like a turban, covered also her right ear. 
 A quarter of her somewhat owl-like countenance was 
 thus concealed. She was a woman of medium stature, 
 with a strong chin, sharp, aquiline nose, and beady 
 black eyes. Her face was generally pale, tending 
 towards sallow. She wore a black woollen headgear, 
 shaped like a night-cap, and fastened by two black 
 silk strings under her prominent chin. The knots of 
 the white handkerchief were fixed tightly on the 
 crown of her head, and the ends stood up like rabbits' 
 ears. As long as headaches lasted, Mrs. Bleeks took 
 refuge in such bandages, and it was only Vardy who 
 could tie them tightly enough to suit her. She gen- 
 erally gave him a penny for the trouble. Patches of 
 grey hair formed curves on her skinny forehead. 
 On the whole, her appearance did not belie her strong 
 character. She was a born fighter. She entertained 
 only a very poor opinion of the present age, and con-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 13 
 
 sidered that the whole world began to droop as the 
 clock struck midnight on the last night of the nine- 
 teenth century. She described herself as part and par- 
 cel of the reign of Queen Victoria, whom she believed 
 she resembled, and whose portrait, hanging above Mrs. 
 Bleeks's bed, was often addressed in loyal and lauda- 
 tory speeches. The new inventions in science, espe- 
 cially in motor cars, were Mrs, Bleeks's chief abhor- 
 rence. Her husband had been the owner of six Lon- 
 don omnibuses, and Mrs. Bleeks's maintained that it 
 would be far better for the world to jog on in the 
 old way. She had her own views, too, regarding 
 the proper pronunciation of our mother tongue, and 
 she did not accept all the new strange slang which 
 she heard among the younger set in the yard. For 
 instance, she declared that " a slop " was not a 
 correct word for policeman, and that he should be 
 called " a copper," or " a crusher," or " a beak." 
 Again, gin with her was either " white satin " or 
 " a flash o' lightnin'," and never " blue ruin " or 
 " bottled earthquake." These later additions to the 
 dictionary of the streets she disdained as she dis- 
 dained the generation who used them. But perhaps 
 her contempt was chiefly moved by the unheroic man- 
 ner in which the moderns carry their liquor. To 
 be made easily drunk was to be in danger of her 
 scorn. The last generation had far stronger heads. 
 Those who were, as she declared herself to be, " well
 
 14 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 edicated " and blessed with strong wills and strong 
 nerves, behaved when in their cups as gentlefolks 
 behaved when drinking water. They knew how to 
 " shunt " the more skittish liquors at the proper 
 time and in the proper doses. She was a " gin 
 shunter " herself. If she moved about with a stick 
 it was, she said, because of rheumatism, or in order 
 to use it on the backs of impudent street urchins, 
 and not, as uncharitable critics hinted, because she 
 had just come from the tavern. 
 
 " A ole fiddle," she said to her niece, " makes the 
 best music. I likes to be jolly myself and see others 
 so. Ain't wot I once was, though. Gettin' on now. 
 But if it was n't for them wrinkles and the skin 
 wot 's parchment/, I would be jist as bloomin' as 
 when Bleeks fust came arter me. As things is I 'm 
 ev'ry hinch as 'appy as the Lor' May'r." 
 
 An honest biographer, however, is compelled to 
 deny that Mrs. Bleeks did much to make her niece 
 jolly. On the contrary, she thoroughly frightened 
 Dorrie, who, whenever she heard the wheezing of the 
 asthma or the tapping of the stick or the various 
 little grunts, sighs, and loud breathings which some- 
 times indicated Mrs. Bleeks's proximity, felt an over- 
 mastering desire to escape and to hide herself in the 
 hayloft. On the present occasion that would have 
 been impossible, and, besides, Dorrie was not aware 
 that Mrs. Bleeks was actually behind her, and was
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 15 
 
 sniffing the perfume which was being wafted by the 
 air from the open door. 
 
 " Wot 's this ? " exclaimed Mrs. Bleeks suddenly, 
 whereupon both Mr. Larkin and his daughter turned 
 round with a start. 
 
 " Oh, my 'at ! " cried Vardy, dropping his " h." 
 He was still watching the cab. And then at the 
 risk of letting " Audacity " bolt he bolted himself 
 into the harness-room to tell Swening that a family 
 row had begun. 
 
 Meantime Mr. Larkin was expressing as much 
 surprise as Mrs. Bleeks, and an animated conversa- 
 tion was taking place on the threshold. 
 
 " This," said Mr. Larkin, " is your little bit of 
 a game, my pippin. Well, I never ! It 's my lady- 
 ship's carriage what 's at the door, ain't it ? " 
 
 " Don't wait up, father," said Dorrie, suddenly 
 bold ; " I 'm going to Jellini's." 
 
 " Wot ! " exclaimed Mrs. Bleeks, as she seized 
 the pink cloak and lifted its edge in order to see 
 what was beneath. " Who said Jellini's ? Sam, 
 you 're not goin' to allow of it." ^. 
 
 " Don't spoil my dress," replied Dorothy, snap- 
 pishly. 
 
 " Oh, in coorse not ! " retorted her aunt " Never 
 touch a goldfish with yer 'ands. I s'pose mine 's too 
 dirty washin' sarsepans and hosspails and wot not. 
 My wig! If this ain't a piece of flummery and
 
 16 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 never doubt it I If this ain't a piece of perfumed 
 silk stockinged gentry got up for the ball, and the 
 theayter, wot should be lookin' arter her dooties and 
 makin' down the beds ! Where 's my sister ? " 
 
 Mrs. Muzzey, indeed, attracted by the shindy, and 
 thinking that Mrs. Bleeks was fighting one of the 
 yardmen, was coming along the passage at that mo- 
 ment. The sisters were twins, and they resembled 
 each other so closely that a stranger might have mis- 
 taken the one for the other. But Mrs. Muzzey, 
 though a quarter of an inch taller, and apparently 
 stronger, was intellectually and morally a weaker 
 edition of Mrs. Bleeks. She wore a white instead of 
 a black cap, and there was a white apron pinned to 
 her skirt. 
 
 " Liza," cried Mrs. Bleeks, with a great burst of 
 laughter, " bring yer hopera glass this minute. 
 'Ere 's the hopera and the pantermine come to Lar- 
 kin's yard. See our niece! Standin' there like a 
 dressed-up, wicked stattey in pink and silver. It 's 
 a ballet gal we 've been edicating all them years as 
 Sam's darter." 
 
 " Where 's she goin' ? " demanded Mrs. Muzzey, 
 as she fingered the cloak and the trimming in aston- 
 ishment " It 's Cinderella Larkin." 
 
 " And glass slippers is poor shoein'," said Mrs. 
 Bleeks, pulling at the slippers in Dorothy's hands, as 
 if to discover whether they were really made of glass.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 17 
 
 " They 're white satin," replied Dorrie, quickly, 
 " and you should know something about that article." 
 
 " Imperance ! " exclaimed Mrs. Bleeks. 
 
 At this Mr. Larkin laughed with great heartiness, 
 lifting his hands and shaking his sides, and then 
 leaning against the door-post for support 
 
 " That 's a settler, Mary Anne," he said. " That 
 is." 
 
 " Impident gal," said Mrs. Muzzey. 
 
 " It ain't respeckable speakin' to a hant like that," 
 observed Mrs. Bleeks ; " and I 've been a good hant, 
 too." 
 
 " ~Not better nor me," interposed Mrs. Muzzey. 
 
 " I ain't affronted," continued Mrs. Bleeks, in a 
 manner which betrayed that she was very affronted 
 indeed ; " but I ax you, Sam, if gals was allowed 
 to talk in sich ways in the herly days of Queen 
 Wictoria? There ain't no reverence now. As if a 
 ole party like me don't need a dram of white satin 
 to keep me warm, let alone that I 'm her hant. But 
 I won't be her hant any more. I 'm as good a woman 
 as ever walked in two shoes. All abaht a toothful 
 o' gin. If Sam says I 'm to go to-morrer I '11 go. 
 I 'm not afeared to make a livin' on the streets. 
 Bleeks drove a 'bus. I can drive a barrer." 
 
 " Go to blazes," said Mr. Larkin. 
 
 " I knows wot things belongs," declared Mrs. 
 Bleeks, while, owing to her exertions, the white hand-
 
 18 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 kerchief was gradually slipping upwards so that her 
 right eye was now visible. " I ain't been edicated 
 for nuffin'. There 's more ways than one of findin' 
 a bekf ust. I 'm no use in the yard, I s'pose. No ? 
 Ole folks has got ter go. .Well, I '11 face it. I '11 
 go the whole biling! " 
 
 " Woa, Mary Anne," said her brother. " Keep 
 yer turban steady, you 're talkin' like a nincumpoop. 
 .Who 's askin' of you to go away ? " 
 
 " Yer darter, Sam," replied Mrs. Bleeks, with 
 dignity and sarcasm ; " 'er as I 've edicated and 
 brought up as my own, 'er as is goin' to break yer 
 'eart with that there wariegated tinsel. She 's been 
 spendin' yer money at the sales and been larnin' like 
 one of them ballet gals to touch 'er nose with 'er 
 knees and scratch 'er 'ead with 'er feet." 
 
 But Dorrie had turned her back upon her aunts, 
 and in a coaxing voice was offering an explanation to 
 Mr. Larkin. 
 
 Mrs. Bleeks and Mrs. Muzzey counted upon wit- 
 nessing an angry scene between the two. It was 
 twelve years since the widows had descended upon 
 their brother, after his wife had died, and when 
 Dorrie was only five years old. They established 
 themselves in his house, and decided never to allow 
 him to re-marry. But now when Dorrie was on the 
 threshold of womanhood there were signs of coming 
 trouble. Hitherto, Sam had acquiesced in the policy
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 19 
 
 of repression, and as he seemed to hesitate to allow 
 his daughter to go to Jellini's the aunts were hopeful 
 of victory again. Mrs. Muzzey looked out at the 
 door and saw the cab and Swening on the box, and 
 " Audacity " stamping and pawing the ground. 
 Then she nudged Mrs. Bleeks and whispered 
 something. 
 
 " I agrees with you, Liza," said Mrs. Bleeks ; " she 
 takes arter 'er mother." 
 
 Whether it was this thrust at his dead wife which 
 finally caused Larkin to support his daughter, or 
 whether he had grown suddenly rebellious under 
 the tyranny of his sisters, is not certain, but he 
 turned sharply upon them both and told them to 
 mind their own business. Both were astounded, 
 and Mrs. Bleeks's handkerchief at last slipped 
 from her head. As she untied the knots she 
 looked indignantly at her brother, and then ad- 
 dressed her sister. 
 
 " Liza," she began, " this is wot they calls hock- 
 eylar proof. Time 's up, and they means us both 
 to go." 
 
 " I '11 pack to-night," said Mrs. Muzzey, with a 
 show of independence. 
 
 " Be reasonable, Liza and Mary Anne," urged 
 Larkin. " You both lamed to dance when you were 
 like Dorrie." 
 
 " I hope I was never like them, father," retorted
 
 20 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 Dorrie, in great style, and drawing the pink cloak 
 more closely about her. 
 
 " My word, she cuts it fat," exclaimed Mrs. Bleeks, 
 while for the first time Mrs. Muzzey began to fear 
 her niece. 
 
 " You should n't put a rope halter on an unbroken 
 colt," observed Larkin, looking timidly at his sisters, 
 but patting his Dorrie. " You should never pull a 
 colt into a stable. That 's what the trainers say, and 
 children 's like colts, that 's what I says." 
 
 " I 'm curious to know who hinvited her to Jel- 
 lini's," inquired Mrs. Bleeks, whose natural inquisi- 
 tiveness for the moment got the better of her other 
 feelings. 
 
 " It was Sir John Marduke," replied Dorrie, ad- 
 dressing her father, however, and turning her back 
 on her aunts. " Sir John Marduke 's the patron of 
 Jellini's. I 've been going for lessons regularly, fa- 
 ther, and I meant to tell you, but I was frightened. 
 To-night there 's to be a pupils' ball, and they say 
 Sir John Marduke and his family are perhaps to be 
 there." 
 
 "Sir John Marduke?" asked Larkin. " Him 
 that 's giving the free dinners in Marylebone and 
 St Pancras ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Dorrie. 
 
 " That great gent ? " demanded Mrs. Bleeks* 
 " The filthyanthropist ? "
 
 THE OLD DASTCE MASTER 21 
 
 " My stars and garters, we 're haristocrats now, 
 Mary Anne," sneered Mrs. Muzzey ; " our niece 
 won't look at us." 
 
 " She '11 cut us, Liza," replied Mrs. Bleeks. " But 
 says I, I ain't affronted." 
 
 " Father," implored Dorrie, moving towards the 
 door, " it 'a getting late. By this time they 've 
 started at Jellini's." 
 
 " All right," said Larkin, escorting his daughter 
 proudly to the cab. " Enjoy yourself, my pippin." 
 
 " Imperance ! " cried Mrs. Bleeks again, as she 
 lifted her stick in an angry gesture. 
 
 " She wants a sodger," said Mrs. Muzzey. 
 
 " It 's a nuss she needs," said Mrs. Bleeks. 
 
 " Will we wave ? " asked Mrs. Muzzey, while they 
 watched the owner of the pink cloak being bundled 
 into the hansom. 
 
 " In coorse not," replied Mrs. Bleeks, vigorously, 
 while she stuffed her handkerchief into her pocket. 
 " Oh, you 're a weak un, Liza, allus givin' in." 
 
 " Bring her back," Larkin was saying to Swening. 
 
 Swefling, who was in no particular need of such 
 instructions, but who was eager to start, nodded, 
 loosened the straps that controlled the cab's front win- 
 dows, and allowed the glass to close down with a snap. 
 Then with a glance atTthe witeh-like figures stand- 
 ing on the lighted threshold, he spoke a word to 
 " Audacity " and the cab cleared the yard.
 
 22 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 As Swefling turned into Tottenham. Court Road 
 from Euston Road, at the crowded corner where the 
 'buses halt, the trap door on the roof of the cab was 
 suddenly opened, and there appeared a little white 
 hand which the driver devoutly pressed. Then when 
 it was withdrawn he peered down the opening, and 
 saw Dorothy looking up and laughing very gleefully. 
 The lamp fixed behind was shining full on her face, 
 and her eyes and her teeth were dazzling in the light 
 of it, while a wreath of her dark hair peeped from 
 under the pink hood. 
 
 " Swef," she called up, " don't hang about in the 
 cold. It is cold to-night. Go back to the yard, and 
 get supper somewhere like a good boy, and come back 
 for me at eleven." 
 
 " I 'm jiggered," he replied, " if your aunts are n't 
 a pair of old hard mouths. Was Mrs. Bleeks 
 slewed?" 
 
 " Never mind them," said Dorothy. 
 
 Angry cries from a 'bus driver, a van-man, and a 
 policeman were suddenly heard, and a triple collision 
 was with difficulty averted. 
 
 Swefling, too intent on the conversation, had been 
 driving to the common danger. He had never yet 
 been summoned, and it was lucky that in the present 
 case the constable and he happened to be old friends. 
 The trap-door was suddenly closed, and a gentle touch 
 on the left rein brought " Audacity " and the cab into
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 23 
 
 the proper position. Jellini's was now in sight, and a 
 swarm of coated, cloaked, and hooded and hatless 
 dancers of both sexes was observed entering the hall 
 under the glass canopy. Swelling drew up where a 
 tall man in uniform was standing, and Dorothy 
 alighted like a butterfly. 
 
 " Eleven," she said with a smile, and then walked 
 towards the entrance. 
 
 But here again Swefling incurred the wrath and the 
 frown of a policeman because, in order to watch the 
 pink cloak disappearing, he did not drive away quickly 
 enough. There were about four hours until eleven 
 o'clock, and so he drove to the Apollo Tavern. He 
 engaged the waterman on the rank close by to look 
 after " Audacity " and the cab, and he went in for 
 supper. When he came out it was nearly eight by a 
 clock in Oxford Street, and there was a chance of 
 earning some shillings before it would be time to re- 
 turn to Jellini's. The pavements were aglow with 
 the lamps and alive with walkers. It was a clear, 
 starry January night, and the roadway was glossy 
 with the rolling, rolling of the wheels. As Swefling 
 went along Oxford Street and turned into Regent 
 Street at a gentle trot, the bells of " Audacity's " 
 bridle seemed never to have jingled so merrily.
 
 CHAPTEE SECOKD 
 
 MB. MONTY MAEDUKE had decided to sacrifice an 
 evening to his father's whims. But the truth was 
 that he was going with high curiosity to Jellini's 
 on the chance, and at the risk, of seeing a pretty 
 girl. At least, his sister Minnie, who knew him, 
 considered that it was a risk, and she had never 
 pressed him to show any interest in that part of 
 their father's great social schemes. Monty, however, 
 declared that he meant to go, and he dressed himself 
 with his usual care as if he had been going to the 
 Dowager Duchess of Berkshire's box at the opera. 
 It was freely whispered that the dowager had an in- 
 fatuation for him, and a paragraph announcing their 
 approaching marriage had appeared in one of the 
 newspapers. Monty telegraphed an emphatic con- 
 tradiction, and lately he had not been so often seen 
 in her company. She was an original and very viva- 
 cious old woman, and he liked her, but as for marry- 
 ing her The dowager, bent on annoying her 
 heirs, continued to send invitations to him, but he 
 hated ridicule, and decided not to go to the opera 
 that night. In the course of a conversation carried 
 on by means of the telephone she told hi:n that she 
 
 24
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTEK 25 
 
 refused to accept his refusal, that she expected to 
 see him in her box if not at dinner, and that being 
 a man he should not, could not, would not care a 
 straw for the childish, the disgusting tittle-tattle. 
 When he expressed his regret, he heard her ironical 
 incredulous sexagenarian laugh running along the 
 wire to him. 
 
 "They're playing * Aida ' to-night; you must 
 come, Monty," urged the voice. 
 
 " My dear Duchess, my father has. asked me to 
 show some interest in one of his latest fads. He 
 says that he 's going to take me to see the little 
 boys and girls of Marylebone and St. Pancras dance, 
 dance, dance ! " 
 
 " Ridiculous ! Tell Sir John that he has spent 
 quite enough." 
 
 " Oh, I 'm always telling him that" 
 
 " He f s being led the dance," said the dowager. 
 
 " Yes, indeed. But he won't listen. ' Pray, forgive 
 me, then, if I don't come to-night," replied Monty. 
 
 " Where is this place ? " 
 
 " Jellini's, Tottenham Court Road! " 
 
 "Really, you know! It sounds like a mauvaise 
 plaisanterie. Good-bye, then, Monty." 
 
 He placed the receiver on the pedestal, and sat 
 down on one of the spacious chairs in his father's 
 smoke-room. But he was scarcely seated when the 
 telephone bell was ringing furiously.
 
 26 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " I '11 expect you at nine," said the dowager, while 
 her faint laugh reverberated along the wire again. 
 
 " I 'm very sorry, but it is n't possible, Duchess," 
 he replied, and she heard the words quite clearly. 
 
 " What ? Are you there ? I say I shall expect 
 you at. nine." 
 
 " I very greatly regret " he began, but was 
 interrupted by the sounds in the receiver. " What ? 
 Are you there ? " 
 
 " Is this the truth, Monty ? " she was asking. 
 
 " Duchess, the way to mislead people nowadays is 
 to speak the truth," he replied. 
 
 " Then you wish to mislead me ? " she asked. 
 
 " Not in the least, not in the least ! " he said, 
 laughing. " It 's this " 
 
 But he found himself suddenly switched off. 
 Perhaps, he thought, the Duchess had gone away in 
 a temper. He held the line for a minute, but heard 
 only the vague echo, far-off hum and buzz of mes- 
 sages hurrying up and down the myriad wires. Then 
 he readjusted the instrument, swore mildly, and was 
 in his chair again. 
 
 He was a young man of twenty-four, with the 
 air of a soldier, tall, dark, clean-shaven, well-formed, 
 and, therefore, accounted handsome. Frequent ad- 
 miration was expressed for his eyes, which were 
 very intelligent, and had no guile in them at all. 
 Now and again, however, they had a roguish look
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 27 
 
 as if to warn friends, and perhaps fools, that the 
 tricks and pranks of boyhood were not so very long 
 ago laid aside. He and his sister Minnie had been 
 curiously educated, and they knew early that not 
 all of their father's immense wealth was being re- 
 served for them. Sir John Marduke used to arrange 
 his entertainments to the poor in such a way and at 
 such dates that they would clash with some party 
 at a great house to which his son and daughter had 
 been invited, and he frequently compelled them to 
 choose the humbler ceremony. He declared himself 
 pleased when on one occasion Monty and Minnie 
 seemed voluntarily to prefer a tea-party in Soho to 
 a dance in Portman Square. The truth was that 
 with the unconscious diplomacy of childhood and 
 with its naive hypocrisy they were only attempting 
 to appease irresistible power because they knew that 
 willy-nilly they would be marched to Soho. Never- 
 theless, it became a habit with them to feel at home 
 in both worlds, and to find amusement in scenes from 
 which persons of their own class turned instinctively 
 away. They inherited charitable instincts, and there 
 was nothing of condescension, nothing whatever of 
 priggishness, in their sympathy for less fortunate 
 people. But the baronet was warned of the dangers 
 of his experiment. If Monty were taught, and if 
 he accepted as true, the erroneous doctrine that all 
 human beings are equal, there might be trouble ahead,
 
 28 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 when he came to choose a wife. At what precise 
 limit did Sir John's fellowship with the lower orders 
 stop? It was wrong to remove the proper barrier 
 which separated the social classes. Or rather there 
 was no use attempting to remove it. Democracy 
 cannot walk in pumps, nor aristocracy in hob-nail 
 boots except when shooting. To tell the truth, 
 Monty was heartily bored by the whole discussion. 
 What is authentic of his early youth is, that once 
 in Oxford Street on a windy day, when he saw 
 a greasy, bespattered dustman vainly struggling to 
 thrust an arm into the filthiest of imaginable coats, 
 Monty stopped to hold the coat for him. This trivial 
 act, done in the full glare of publicity in daylight, 
 was judged to be a pose. It was suggested that Mr. 
 Marduke was going to stand for Parliament, and was 
 hunting for votes even among the dustbins. But this 
 explanation only moved him to laughter and con- 
 tempt. Likewise, when during an Oxford vacation 
 he marched twenty sandwich men into a certain res- 
 taurant, and afterwards compelled each of them to 
 make a speech, he did it for a joke, and was only 
 caricaturing his father's philanthropy. He really 
 liked working men, however, and had many friends 
 among them. He was a generous youth, and in the 
 midst of great crowds, at great moments, he felt 
 the electric chords and cords which bind us all to- 
 gether. Apparently in one respect at least Sir John's
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 29 
 
 experiment had succeeded. His son's sympathies 
 were quickly ignited, his emotions soon ablaze. 
 Hence those liberal opinions for which he was re- 
 buked when he was a lieutenant in the Twenty 
 
 Lancers. 
 
 But if the son was gay the father was grave, 
 indeed. It was certainly odd that Sir John Marduke 
 seemed always to be apologising for his existence, 
 because in the eye of the world he was not only a 
 very good, but a very fortunate man. Like his son, 
 he was tall, and if he had so chosen he might have 
 assumed a very haughty air, because his features were 
 of the imperious, don't-look-at-me sort But there was 
 something unostentatious even in his white moustache, 
 which drooped and had nothing of that upturned 
 defiant attitude characteristic of the moustaches of 
 military and ex-military officers. He had fought 
 gloriously in India, but that was long ago. His 
 medals were hidden away and forgotten, and he ap- 
 peared to be the perfect type of a perfect London 
 citizen. His butler, his footman, his chauffeur, the 
 captain of his fine steam yacht, his coachman, his 
 carriage groom, had each great airs and looked im- 
 portant, but Sir John's desire was to slip through the 
 world observant, but unobserved. The servants in 
 the great house in Portland Place, from Riggs the 
 butler and Mrs. Batsby the housekeeper down to 
 the humblest of the kitchen-maids, worshipped Sir
 
 30 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 John. His name, too, was a kind of evangel in many 
 of the gloomier streets. He had a pale, mild, grey 
 eye, which seemed to look for sympathy, and in 
 which, and out of which, human sympathy certainly 
 shone.* He was never seen with a florid countenance, 
 and this habitual pallor increased the general refine- 
 ment and distinction of his person. But great wealth, 
 a title tolerably ancient, if the multitude of recent 
 honours be considered, the very fine mansion in Port- 
 land Place, the love and respect of his son and of 
 his daughter, the soothing recollection that he had 
 been the devoted husband of a devoted wife, a repu- 
 tation for almost reckless charity thousands upon 
 thousands having been given away all this ap- 
 peared to bring no genuine contentment to his heart. 
 He steadily refused to stand for Parliament, al- 
 though invitations had been numerous, and although 
 safe seats had been assured him. A peerage had been 
 offered as a fitting reward of so much well-doing, 
 but he declined the distinction with sincere repug- 
 nance and disdain. It was difficult to believe that 
 he could have worries. It is true that Monty had 
 been sent down from Oxford as a result of some 
 youthful follies. It is also true that Monty's rest- 
 less disposition made him abandon the Army as well 
 as Oxford. But these things did not worry Sir John. 
 Monty's little indiscretions had hitherto been of the 
 rollicking, innocent sort, and had been judged to be
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 31 
 
 the mere overflow of high spirits. In fact, Sir John 
 was secretly pleased to be the father of so great a 
 favourite, an open-hearted, open-handed youth, who 
 accepted in a sober way the great gifts of fortune. 
 
 Arabella, Duchess of Berkshire, was at the tele- 
 phone again. 
 
 " Well," she was saying, " you have thought it 
 over? Of course you are coming." 
 
 " Really, Duchess, I don't like to disappoint you, 
 but I promised the governor. He says I take no 
 interest in his tremendous schemes, you know. He 
 specially asked me to reserve to-night for these 
 wretched infants of Marylebone and St. Pancras. 
 We are even dining earlier in order to go there." 
 
 " What ? I don't hear. Are you there 2 " came 
 the voice. 
 
 " Why, yes. I 'm saying that I 'm very sorry not 
 to be able to come to-night," he replied. 
 
 " Then I '11 come to Jellini's. Is that the name ? " 
 asked the Duchess. 
 
 " You don't mean to say " Monty began, but 
 found himself suddenly disconnected. 
 
 After a few fruitless " Are you theres ? " he re- 
 placed the receiver, and went in to dinner. 
 
 About an hour and a quarter later Monty and his 
 father were in the library, which was a very large 
 and lofty room stored with books. In the two great 
 fireplaces great fires were burning, one at one end
 
 32 
 
 of the room and the other at the other; the rich red 
 flames were singing a chorus up the chimneys. The 
 heavy Eastern carpet, which had been specially 
 woven, the dark red curtains which draped the six 
 windows, the comfortable reading-chairs and desks, 
 the electric lamps which shed a subdued and mellow 
 light throughout the apartment, the famous old 
 French clock, Louis Quatorze, one or two admirable 
 busts in bronze and marble these and the splendid 
 editions of the books, combined to produce a sense 
 of modern elegance and leisure and ease. Sir John 
 Marduke and his son were standing opposite the 
 fireplace which was farther from the door, and they 
 were snipping their cigars, and preparing to light 
 them. 
 
 " There 's something I want to speak to you about, 
 Monty," said Sir John. 
 
 " Is it about Jellini's ? " asked Monty. 
 
 " No," said Sir John, as he turned to look at the 
 French porcelain clock, " we '11 arrive there in good 
 time. I promised old Habenichts. I 'm glad that 
 you 're coming, you have n't been once yet, and it 's 
 really pleasant to watch them enjoying themselves." 
 
 He sat down on one of the big chairs, and his son 
 sat in another. 
 
 " About the dowager ? " asked Monty, smiling. 
 
 " No," said his father, gravely, as he looked at 
 him, " I trust to your own common sense. I think
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 33 
 
 that she is a very original, kind-hearted, and inter- 
 esting old woman, but rather eccentric. You con- 
 tradicted that foolish report about her and you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I telegraphed," said Monty. 
 
 At this moment Riggs followed by a footman 
 entered with the coffee. 
 
 " No, thank you, Riggs," said Sir John. 
 
 " I don't want it either," said Monty, crossing 
 his legs. 
 
 After the men had gone away Sir John Marduke 
 drew his chair nearer. 
 
 " Well, it 's this," he began. " You '11 perhaps be 
 surprised ! I 'm going to destroy our coat of arms." 
 
 He waited to see the effect on his son, who, how- 
 ever, merely contracted his brows slightly, as if to 
 indicate that he expected to be bored by the con- 
 versation. 
 
 " Yes. I have decided on it I once mentioned 
 it to your poor mother," continued Sir John. 
 
 " And she approved ? " asked Monty. 
 
 " She understood and sympathised as you might 
 expect. She had too fine a taste not to. I hope 
 that you and Minnie will also see the necessity, but 
 I speak to you first since the title descends to you. 
 I only reproach myself for having delayed so long." 
 
 " That 's what I was just going to say," observed 
 Monty; "your friends will think that the discovery 
 has taken you a long time."
 
 34 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " Yes. I agree. We should have dropped it long 
 ago. I have always winced when I have had to 
 use that seal, and I have used it as seldom as pos- 
 sible. I would n't allow them to put our crest on the 
 carriage or the motor, and none of the silver on 
 which it is stamped and which it defaces so horribly 
 will ever appear again on my table. Just think of 
 it ! " exclaimed Sir John, rising and walking up and 
 down. " Two chained negroes, and a slave ship 
 below. These are our armorial bearings in the twen- 
 tieth century. Of course they don't lie. They make 
 no pretence to brave deeds. They announce in plain 
 terms to the whole world the origin of my wealth. 
 It was my great-great-grandfather, the builder of the 
 slave ships, when this country possessed slave col- 
 onies, who chose this hideous piece of heraldry, when 
 the title was conferred upon him. I have traced 
 every farthing of our capital to its source, and I 
 find that, except for some four thousand pounds, 
 every farthing was wrung out of our family's slave 
 plantations in Jamaica and Demerara, and from the 
 fleet of slave ships." 
 
 " What about Lady Holland 2 " asked Monty. " She 
 had seven or eight thousand a year which came to her 
 from slave plantations. And the Gladstones? Mr. 
 Gladstone's father owned slaves. If Gladstone was 
 sent to Eton and Oxford, and set up in public life, it 
 was because his father could afford it, and he could
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 35 
 
 afford it because he had large interests in the slave 
 plantations in the West Indies and in Demerara. 
 Governor, if you asked about the origin of half of the 
 modern wealth, and about the ownership of land, you 
 would find the sources just as tainted as I suppose 
 they were in our own case." 
 
 " It makes the problem all the more disquieting," 
 observed Sir John. " Our family were making about 
 100,000 a year towards the end of the eighteenth 
 century. We even gained enormously by the aboli- 
 tion. By the Bill of 1833 we received on an average 
 nineteen pounds per head for each slave. Well, we 
 had in all 50,000 slaves scattered over the West Indies, 
 and thereby we got nearly a million sterling. Then 
 there were vast profits on the sugar and on the land 
 when it came into the market." 
 
 Sir John stopped. His eyes were glittering with 
 excitement It was evident that his idea had full 
 possession of him, and gave him no rest. 
 
 "Well? "asked his son. 
 
 " Well, when I look round on all we possess, on all 
 this," said Sir John, pointing to the room, " when I 
 think of our comfort, our luxury, when I give a dia- 
 mond necklace to Minnie, or a motor car to you, or an 
 expensive present to a young married couple, when I 
 think about all these things and our social position, 
 our title even, our great privileges in society, which 
 have been made possible because two or three genera-
 
 36 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 tions ago thousands of slaves were captured for our 
 service and perished in it, I have a most uncomfort- 
 able, a ghastly sort of feeling, Monty." 
 
 The young man looked earnestly and anxiously at 
 his father. Was it that the conscience of the family 
 which had been slumbering during three generations 
 was at last awake in Sir John ? 
 
 " It 's not your fault that the money was made in 
 that way," said Monty. 
 
 " While we are rolling in plenty, and when I see 
 your name and Minnie's in the society news, and when 
 I watch the parasites who have grown round you, I 
 can't help thinking of those countless men, women, 
 and children of Africa, without whom there would 
 have been no Marduke money, and no Marduke baro- 
 netcy. For it is perfectly plain that it was for polit- 
 ical services which his wealth made possible that my 
 great-great-grandfather received the title." 
 
 " It 's the Congo business, the recent outrages by 
 the Belgians, that have put all this in your head 
 again," suggested Monty. 
 
 " Perhaps," replied his father^ " but it 's been in 
 my head a long time; ever since, as a soldier, I be- 
 gan to think about might and right." 
 
 " The negroes whom, you say, slaved to make you 
 rich were n't always badly treated," said Monty. 
 " They were taught industry and regular habits, and 
 no doubt many of them, were happy."
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 37 
 
 Sir John Harduke took a bunch, of keys from his 
 pocket, and went to open an old-fashioned brass- 
 mounted mahogany coffer out of which he brought 
 some curious rusty iron implements. He laid them 
 one by one upon a table. First there was a pair of 
 handcuffs, which had been used in shackling the wrists < 
 of African slaves on the plantations in such a way 
 that the right hand of one man was fastened to the left 
 hand of his fellow. A bolt and padlock were at- 
 tached. Next came a pair of fetters for the ankles, 
 and they were so heavy that Sir John required to use 
 his two hands to lift them. Then he brought out a 
 thumb-screw with a key to turn the bars and regulate 
 the amount of punishment and pain to be inflicted on 
 the victim. Next there was a very formidable-looking 
 instrument for forcing open the mouths of those slaves 
 who had decided to starve themselves to death. Blood- 
 stains almost a hundred years old were visible on parts 
 of this machine. Then came an ugly iron hoop with a 
 curious twist which had been fitted to the necks of 
 fugitive slaves. Lastly, Sir John showed a portfolio 
 containing engravings of the slave ships with sec- 
 tions in which the slaves were seen lying packed 
 together like herrings. Monty asked the meaning 
 of it all. 
 
 " These," said his father, " were the means by 
 which long ago the fortune which founded our fam- 
 ily was made. I have never shown them to you or
 
 38 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 to any one. Some night I intend to fling them into 
 the river. They often keep me from sleeping." 
 
 " Father," urged Monty, " all this is getting on 
 yonr brain. Nothing that you can do now can alter 
 the past." 
 
 " We can expiate it, Monty. That is the real 
 reason why I have given so much money away. I 
 am called a philanthropist. I detest the name. In 
 my own case it is a sham. I am giving money 
 which has accumulated in our family, but which 
 was infamously got. You knew in a vague way 
 that your immediate ancestors possessed plantations, 
 but you never realised the infamy which lies behind 
 our family's history. Monty, I would like you to 
 go into business." 
 
 " You did not bring me up to it," replied Monty. 
 
 " That is true. That was my error, but it is not 
 too late. In any case you will not be a very wealthy 
 man, Monty," said Sir John Marduke, with a strange 
 glance. " I should like you to curtail your expenses. 
 By the way, I sent 20,000 for that dreadful mining 
 disaster in Wales." 
 
 Monty looked aghast 
 
 " And I gave 5000 for the Christmas Dinners. I 
 hope you approve ? " inquired Sir John. 
 
 " Where is all this to end ? " demanded Monty. 
 " You 're fast reducing yourself and us to beggary. 
 [What 's to become of Minnie ? Supposing she wants
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 39 
 
 to marry? Supposing I want to marry? Do you 
 really imagine that by giving all that money away 
 in charity you are doing any good to the slaves who 
 were dead a hundred years ago ? " 
 
 " Certainly not. That 's not the question," replied 
 Sir John. " I have simply been giving away our 
 superfluity. For myself, I could live easily on my 
 army pension." 
 
 " By the way, what is this Jellini's ? " asked 
 Monty. 
 
 " Well, I Ve been laughed at for that, too. This 
 Dancing Academy was dancing on its last leg," said 
 Sir John, with humour unusual in him, " and I 
 was asked to become security. I made inquiries, and 
 found that it gave relaxation and healthy recreation 
 to shop girls and booking clerks, and so on, and that 
 it was admirably conducted. Why shouldn't that 
 class enjoy themselves of an evening in that way? 
 They love gaiety as much as you do. They are 
 weary of being preached at, and I know nothing more 
 important than to teach them grace and good man- 
 ners, and the small innocent joys of life. Besides, 
 it 's not quite a charity. A small fee is charged. I 
 didn't want to see it become bankrupt because the 
 boys and girls would in that case be tempted to find 
 amusement in more dangerous places. Ah, here 's 
 Minnie. It 's time to go." 
 
 Minnie Marduke entered the room, and her resem-
 
 40 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 blance to her brother was obvious at a glance. She 
 was two years older, and although not strikingly 
 beautiful, she was tall, dark, handsome, and like her 
 brother, too, she had charming eyes. Her dress 
 was concealed by an evening cloak trimmed with 
 sable, and she wore a spray of diamonds in her black 
 hair. She had the Marduke pallor, there was a 
 shadow of sadness on her face, and her fine lips were 
 by no means full, but had a tendency to be compressed 
 as if their owner perpetually held herself in con- 
 trol. The truth was that Minnie Marduke was in 
 love with a man whom she suspected of being at- 
 tracted to her chiefly by her wealth. She was 
 haunted by this suspicion night and day, and her 
 father knew it and sympathised with her. And then 
 she had certain anxieties at home. Her father's ec- 
 centricity in spending vast sums in charity purg- 
 ing the Marduke conscience, he called it agitated 
 her as it agitated her brother, because they did not 
 know how the Marduke fortune was able to stand 
 the strain and drain. But she took a willing part 
 in his endless projects, although her prudence many 
 a time saved him from the wiles of needy and dan- 
 gerous adventurers. She felt the pathos of his at- 
 tempt to revindicate the Marduke name. Yet the 
 world would care very little about the matter, and 
 unless he had spoken of it might never have guessed 
 the origin of the family's wealth. And she looked
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 41 
 
 with alarm on a form of generosity which was fast 
 developing into a passion, and on a self-sacrifice 
 which had something fanatical and almost demoni- 
 acal in it. Of all the manifestations of his singular 
 warm-heartedness, his patronage of Jellini's was the 
 latest and the most bizarre. But she looked on with 
 a humorous tolerance, and was annoyed only when 
 she heard that Monty proposed to be present at the 
 pupils' ball. 
 
 " Don't come," she said, while Riggs was holding 
 the baronet's coat in the hall. " You '11 be bored 
 to death, Monty." 
 
 " After all that he has been saying, I admit I 'm 
 not in much of a mood, old girl," said Monty. " The 
 latest is that the coat of arms is going to be des- 
 troyed. I 'm hanged if I care, for it 's hideous 
 enough." 
 
 The brother and sister exchanged significant 
 glances. 
 
 " Old girl," continued Monty, " you should take 
 off that cloak and these diamonds. Never wear 
 silk stockings any more. Put off all your fine furs, 
 your lovely shoes, your ancient lace and your smart 
 hats. Away with them! They are taboo." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked Minnie. 
 
 " Why, he has been raving away on the old sub- 
 ject." 
 
 " You don't know how to manage him," she said.
 
 42 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " He has sent 20,000 to the Welsh Mine Disaster 
 Fund ! and 5000 for Christmas Dinners ! " said 
 Monty. 
 
 " I saw it in the Times" replied Minnie, shrug- 
 ging her shoulders. 
 
 " It 's just this, old girl, something must be done, 
 or you and I shall be beggars," replied Monty. 
 
 " You 're not coming with us," said Minnie. 
 
 " Oh yes, I '11 come." 
 
 They were in the hall, and the door was open, 
 and Sir John was waiting on the steps. As the 
 three were entering the motor car, the telephone bell 
 began ringing. 
 
 " It J s her Grace, sir," said Riggs, running down 
 the steps. 
 
 " Tell her," said Monty, as the motor was moving, 
 " that I Ve just gone out."
 
 CHAPTER THIRD 
 
 THERE was no such person as Jellini. That was 
 the name of an Italian dancing master who flour- 
 ished in London between 1850 and 1860. Mrs. 
 Bleeks remembered him perfectly well. But he had 
 long ago danced his last dance, and his mantle was 
 now worn by a Teutonic philosopher, Herr Habe- 
 nichts, who, like Socrates, had taken to dancing late 
 in life and in order to forget his own troubles. The 
 name Jellini was, however, so renowned and so po- 
 tent, and was believed to be of such good omen, 
 that more than one academy had audaciously adopted 
 it. Above the entrance to the rooms in Tottenham 
 Court Road there was fixed a large iron frame, 
 holding these gilded letters of giant size " The 
 Original Jellini Academy of Dancing." And they 
 reappeared on the lapel of the livery coat and round 
 the gold band of the hat of Ridpath the porter, who 
 opened and closed the swing doors under the glass 
 canopy. Moreover, those words spoke the truth. 
 The well-worn floors of the rooms in Tottenham 
 Court Road had been the actual stage upon which 
 
 Jellini used to strut 
 
 43
 
 44: THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " Vot are you about ? " demanded Herr Habe- 
 nichts of a young booking clerk of Euston Station, 
 who was creating confusion in a set of the lancers. " I 
 say dat you don't onderstand the elementaries. Dat 
 is not a Tour de Mains. You pull de lady about as 
 if you vished to shunt a train and you vere de 
 engine. Oh dear, oh dear! De light touch is de 
 necessity. First lady advance, one two, one two 
 . . . second gentleman advance, one two, one two. 
 . . . Now, gentleman to left, lady to right . . . 
 salute ! Now, dere, retire. . . . Double ladies' chain. 
 . . . Oh, you are de veak links of dis chain." 
 
 Herr Habenichts sat down exhausted, unbuttoned 
 his frock coat, searched his pockets for his handker- 
 chief, and then wiped his bald head with it. His 
 pupils were toiling through the third figure of the 
 lancers, but their steps had lagged so far behind the 
 music that the piano, violin, cornet, and double 
 bass, playing at the far end of the room were ready 
 to begin the fourth figure long before the dancers had 
 taken up their proper positions at the close of the 
 third. The master looked reproachfully at his bun- 
 glers, and scanned their animated perspiring faces. 
 He was devoting an hour to his more troublesome 
 pupils to fortify them for the ordeal of the ball 
 which was to begin exactly at half -past nine o'clock. 
 On a bench covered with red baize sat Miss Dorothy 
 Larkin, surrounded by friends, who, like herself,
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 45 
 
 had no longer any need of instruction in square 
 dances. She had already received a number of com- 
 pliments, and she informed some of her admirers that 
 she was looking forward with perfect rapture to the 
 programme. In the space unoccupied by Herr Habe- 
 nichts' immediate victims, a few young men were 
 indulging in a pas seul or a pirouette , and the girls 
 were laughing at them. 
 
 Herr Habenichts clapped his hands to warn the 
 musicians to begin the music for the fourth figure 
 in which the novices found the glissade en passant 
 and the balance specially formidable. 
 . " Hey dere, move, slow fellow ! More grace, more 
 slide and graciosity. Dis is not a barn dance. My 
 heart is broke vith you. Dat 's de truth," said Herr 
 Habenichts. 
 
 While the fourth couple should have been await- 
 ing the visit of the second they had gone to visit 
 the third, but the third were already on the move 
 to visit the first, so that all four met midway in 
 violent collision. With a wave of his hand the mas- 
 ter sent the unfortunate dancers back to their origi- 
 nal positions. 
 
 " Come ! " he called. " Ten minutes to nine. 
 Dere 's no time left Sir Marduke to be here at 
 half-past. Vifth figure, quick. Commence after 
 virst chord. Now! Grand chain. . . . Virst couple 
 promenade . . . tird couple fall in behind virst
 
 46 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 . . . vourth behind tird . . . second in place. . . . 
 So. . . . Dat's better. All glissade . . . softly 
 . . . well, dat goes ... Ja ... gut . . . bien 
 . . . mon dieu, dere! Now repeat ... So ... 
 Ah, second couple dere! . . . dat gentleman, atten- 
 tion . . . nein, nein! ... So ... Grand chain. 
 . . . Oh, sit down ! " 
 
 Herr Habenichts then intimated that there would 
 be an interval of half an hour which the pupils 
 might spend, if they chose, in cooling themselves 
 in the vestibule or in the dressing-rooms. And while 
 the piano, violin, cornet, and double bass are return- 
 ing, it will be expedient to take the occasion to in- 
 form the reader in what precise manner Herr Habe- 
 nichts and his academy came into relation with Sir 
 John Marduke. 
 
 Of all the broken-down gentlemen who found their 
 way to Portland Place, old Habenichts was the most 
 interesting. He was a poor and refined scholar from 
 Vienna, but since he was frequently mistaken for 
 a German and a spy, he encountered many obstacles 
 in his career in London. The fact that his language 
 was German formed damning evidence against him, 
 and he had the misfortune to arrive during a scare 
 about the German Navy. " I 'm vrom Vienna," he 
 said indignantly, but often in vain. He spent most 
 of his time, however, in the British Museum, which 
 was his Mecca. During three years he was steadily at
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 47 
 
 work in the Reading Room. He had come to London 
 in the hope of completing his " History of Dancing 
 in all Ages and among all Peoples," but the book 
 had ruined him, for he could find no person coura- 
 geous enough to undertake its publication. It com- 
 prised forty immense volumes in manuscript. Having 
 engaged a man with a barrow, he hawked the book 
 round the publishing offices. On one occasion he 
 succeeded in penetrating into the private room, the 
 inmost shrine of a well-known publisher, and actually 
 deposited the forty volumes on the floor. The pub-, 
 lisher sitting at his desk fixed his eye-glass on his 
 right eye and gazed at this mountain, and positively, 
 refused to have anything whatever to do with it. 
 Herr Habenichts ventured to suggest that the risk 
 might be undertaken if only the publisher would 
 have a little faith. 
 
 " The best use," replied the publisher, " to which 
 I could put faith at this moment, sir, would be to 
 recall that passage in Scripture which says that if 
 we have faith even as a grain of musitard seed 
 we shall say to this mountain, ' Be thou removed and 
 be thou cast into the sea ! ' 
 
 Herr Habenichts having called up the man who 
 drove the barrow ordered him to remove the books 
 at once, for he had no desire to give offence, and with 
 a cheerful smile he bade the publisher adieu. His 
 invariable maxim was, " De bad veather vill pass,"
 
 48 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 or " De big east vind not blow for ever and ever ! " 
 and he repeated the words to himself when he was 
 in the street again, even although the rain was pour- 
 ing, and the wind blew his umbrella inside out. 
 Among his many projects was a book to prove that 
 the destiny of Europe was to form a confederation 
 of allied states which would abolish war. Mean- 
 time his own resources were dwindling, and it was 
 necessary to carry on a kind of war in order to live. 
 He could not understand why no one showed any 
 interest in a work in which he told how they danced 
 in Babylon and Nineveh, in Eridu and TJr of the 
 Chaldees, in the ancient cities of India, in Cathay, 
 in Tyre and Sidon, in Thebes, in Memphis, in Ispa- 
 han, Seleucia, and Samarcand, in Troy, in Carthage, 
 in Sybaris, Croton, and Tarentum, in Etruria and 
 Thessaly, in Athens, in Rome, in Mexico, and in 
 Peru, in the Sandwich Islands, and in Siberia and 
 Abyssinia, among the Kalmucks and the Scandi- 
 navians, in Mediaeval England, Scotland, Ireland, and 
 Wales, in Toledo, in old Vienna, and in lunatic 
 asylums in short, wherever the rhythmic feet of 
 man and woman trod a measure. The religion, the 
 philosophy, the poetry, and the science and the art 
 of dancing were unfolded with gigantic erudition, 
 and the great work, together with three hundred 
 pounds, constituted the author's entire fortune. Mak- 
 ing a desperate last effort to reach the ear of mankind,
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 49 
 
 he engaged the services of a translator, to whom with 
 apologies he paid the wretched sum of one hundred 
 and fifty pounds. The expenses of publication 
 swamped the remainder, and Herr Habenichts found 
 himself in debt to the printer and binder, and facing 
 the world with nothing except five hundred copies 
 of his book, each copy comprising twelve stout vol- 
 umes bound in paper covers. Sold: one copy to 
 Monsieur Dumaresq, whose acquaintance the reader 
 will not make until the nineteenth chapter. An- 
 other was sent gratis to the British Museum. The 
 result was that Herr Habenichts had in his hands, 
 after having deducted fifty copies sent for review, 
 five thousand three hundred and seventy-six volumes, 
 and they became a nightmare to him. For his land- 
 lady, Mrs. Wix, refused to give house-room to more 
 than a thousand, and the remainder lay rotting in the 
 book-binder's cellar in Covent Garden. We do not 
 propose, however, to narrate all the vicissitudes into 
 which Herr Habenichts was plunged. Mrs. Wix 
 became one of his chief persecutors, and treated with 
 ridicule and opprobrium the suggestion that in the 
 thousand volumes now in her possession she held 
 ample security for the board and lodging with which 
 she furnished him. Suffice it to say that in order 
 to find bread, at last Herr Habenichts was forced 
 to sell music on the streets. He used to be seen 
 presiding at a huckster's stall in Farringdon Road,
 
 50 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 and during slack hours he sat on a stool reading 
 Epictetus in the original Greek. And I firmly be- 
 lieve that if it had not been for the comfort which 
 he obtained from the maxims of that wonderful man 
 he never could have survived this experience. What 
 with taunts at his nationality, threats to overturn 
 his music stall and make him dance to very lively 
 tunes, fierce allegations that he was a German, and 
 probably a spy sent to watch the progress of the 
 British Navy, numerous epithets hurled at him of 
 which the least offensive was " German Sausage," 
 Herr Habenichts endured what is called a very hot 
 time. But he was the best-tempered of men. And 
 once when he stopped a runaway horse which had 
 already dodged two policemen, an entire revolution 
 of opinion in the district took place in his favour, 
 and the costers in their humorous, generous way, 
 carried him shoulder high the entire length of the 
 street 
 
 Surprising and delightful was the news which 
 reached him one day from Vienna. A retired pro- 
 fessor, who had been a companion of his youth, had 
 left him by his will and testament nothing less than 
 seven hundred pounds. Herr Habenichts was on 
 his feet again, in fact he was dancing with delight; 
 he paid the printer and the bookbinder, voluntarily 
 and cheerfully paid another hundred pounds to the 
 translator, distributed fifty among his coster friends,
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 51 
 
 settled the bill with Mrs. Wix, and once more took 
 up his old quarters in Wix's Residential Hotel. 
 
 Too shrewd and too thrifty to live upon capital, 
 he decided to invest it One day while he was 
 walking leisurely down Tottenham Court Road he 
 saw that Jellini's was to let, and the thought struck 
 him that here was his chance. He never despised 
 the little gifts of life. He had studied modern 
 dancing in its relations with the earlier forms out 
 of which it had been evolved. Here at last was an 
 occasion for proving that he was a genuine disciple 
 of Epictetus, who said that the things of life were 
 indifferent but not our use of them. And the famous 
 illustration of life as a game at ball immediately 
 occurred to Herr Habenichts. It matters little, said 
 the sage, of what material the ball is made, but it 
 matters greatly that we should skilfully catch it. 
 " Remember, when anything comes to thee to ask 
 thyself what faculty thou hast for making use of it." 
 Herr Habenichts' decision was forthwith made. 
 Providence in the name of Jellini was calling to him. 
 He sought out the agents; he inspected the hall; he 
 paid a half-year's rent in advance; he ordered that 
 the statue of Terpsichore, which stood in the largest 
 of the rooms, was to be painted white, and that the 
 gilt letters of the name of the Academy fixed above 
 the entrance were to be regilded; he engaged an ex- 
 pert assistant, and a porter, for he liked to do things
 
 52 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 handsomely; and he advertised for pupils. A won- 
 derful idea came into his head, he would deliver 
 his book in lectures to enthusiastic young audiences. 
 The pupils came in troops, and during the first 
 six months it seemed as if the ancient Jellini pres- 
 tige had been recovered. It was freely admitted 
 that Herr Habenichts was a conscientious and la- 
 borious teacher. Apparently his knowledge of the 
 science of dancing was, although bookish, profound. 
 It was his joy to trace the modern pas glisse, pas saute, 
 grande ronde, and heel-and-toe polka back to the 
 mystic rites of savages or to the dim ages of religious 
 song when Miriam and her maidens danced before 
 the Lord. His own efforts, it is true, in illustration 
 of various steps and poses were scarcely so fortunate. 
 Corpulent, short in stature, far from agile, and suf- 
 fering from poor man's gout, he was not altogether 
 a typical ball-room figure, and his theory of dancing 
 was considered to be more graceful than his practice. 
 But it must never be forgotten that he was an Aus- 
 trian, and therefore possessed that artistic instinct, 
 gaiety, and quickness of perception characteristic of 
 the Viennese. He loved beautiful rhythm, and be- 
 cause dancing expressed the joy of motion and 
 brought as no other art can bring the entire body and 
 mind into rhythmic union, he was not ashamed to 
 be its exponent. The old religions, he said, knew its 
 emotional value. So far as the teaching of technique
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 53 
 
 was concerned, he provided his pupils with an ex- 
 pert from Vienna, and he used to sit watching their 
 movements while he was lost in pleasing thoughts 
 regarding the poetry and music of existence. The 
 real cause of the catastrophe which threatened him 
 at the end of the first half-year was his insistence on 
 his pupils' attendance once a month at his lectures. 
 When he was expounding the history of the art they 
 were eager to be dancing. In truth, this lecturing 
 was simply an attempt to revenge himself on the 
 world's neglect of his book, and he read whole pas- 
 sages of it to his yawning audience. On one occa- 
 sion half of the assembly was discovered fast asleep, 
 while Herr Habenichts was drawing brilliant pic- 
 tures of dancing in ancient Jericho. 
 
 " Go there," said a sleepy voice. 
 
 Absorbed in his theme the lecturer was unconscious 
 of interruptions unless they became too loud. It 
 pleased him to have the chance of slipping into his 
 lectures little precepts of his own. But when he 
 informed his pupils that he, a Teuton, was proud 
 to belong to the great race from which the English 
 and the Germans likewise came, there was an uproar. 
 
 " Vot ? " he demanded. " De ignorance ! Dey 
 don't believe dat de English, too, come from de 
 tribes of de Rhineland? It's not my fault. It is 
 history ! " 
 
 Cries of " Rot! " " No lies." " Draw it mild,"
 
 54: THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 assailed the speaker, and the song " See me dance 
 the Polka " was begun by an improvised choir of 
 male voices. 
 
 When silence had been restored Herr Habenichts 
 continued his panegyric on the Teutonic race, of 
 which the English and the Austrians, he pointed out, 
 formed two of the most vital branches, the race that 
 Tacitus praised, the race that has done the great 
 constructive work of modern Europe, and he ap- 
 pealed in a passionate peroration for peace and good- 
 will between all its families. Asked what this had 
 to do with dancing, he said that he was coming to 
 that, and then gave the history of the waltz. His 
 statement, however, that the waltz was a German 
 invention was received with hooting. 
 
 "Herr Gott! " he exclaimed. "Geduld! Dey 
 don't know dat either! Vy, de waltz is de German 
 national dance. Der Walzer ist der echt deutsche 
 Itfational-tanz. I am not a German. I am vrom 
 Vienna. But vy be so angry vith de German ? Dey 
 are a great nation, too." 
 
 Something resembling a riot ensued and the entire 
 audience was on its feet. Unable to obtain silence, 
 Herr Habenichts dismissed his unruly class, and 
 from that evening his good fortune forsook him. Old 
 pupils dropped away, and new ones were not enrolled. 
 Like the clown, who, although he had a sad heart, 
 was compelled to continue his grimaces, Herr Habe-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 55 
 
 nichts kept a smiling countenance, but the brave show 
 was really over. 
 
 The bad weather was upon him again. The ex- 
 penses were not met by the fees, and his own savings 
 were insignificant. The landlords became clamorous 
 for arrears of rent, and threatened to close the Acad- 
 emy. It was in this predicament that the poor danc- 
 ing philosopher, who had frequently heard the name 
 of Sir John Marduke, boldly determined to appeal in 
 person to that lover of his kind. 
 
 When Riggs saw the combination of soft felt 
 hat, somewhat frayed frock coat, and unfurled old- 
 womanish umbrella at the door, and when he heard 
 their owner, who had a broad, pale face and grey 
 moustache, ask if " Sir Marduke " was at home, he 
 at once recognised that here was a new recruit to 
 the unending procession of beggars to whom that 
 door was far too frequently opened. And so he 
 escorted Ilerr Habenichts to the library, where Sir 
 John Marduke was to be seen almost daily between 
 eleven and one o'clock. 
 
 " I not beg ! " began Herr Habenichts, with a 
 profound bow. " No, Sir Marduke. But sometimes 
 everyting depends upon de pocket. Ven de pocket 
 is full, den we are pleased, but ven it is empty, oh 
 dear!" 
 
 " I did n't catch your name," said Sir John Mar- 
 duke, looking narrowly at the stranger.
 
 56 THE OLD DAltfCE MASTER 
 
 " Habenichts," said the proprietor of that name ; 
 " I am vrom Vienna. I am not a German spy. Vot 
 an idea! I love dis country, de greatness, de free- 
 dom. I am a poor dance master." 
 
 Somewhat astonished although, indeed, in his 
 daily encounter with human misfortune there was 
 little left of London sorrow to cause astonishment 
 to Sir John he looked again at Herr Habenichts, 
 and could not refrain from a smile. But he noticed 
 that his visitor returned the glance full in the face, 
 and that was what Sir John liked. 
 
 " Bitter is de vinegar of life, sir," observed Herr 
 Habenichts, in a moment of dejection. 
 
 " And vinegar should never be anything else," 
 replied Sir John, smiling again. 
 
 " I am Viennese," continued Herr Habenichts ; 
 " as if a poor old man like me could be a spy. Vot 
 haf I to do vith it? I vould never do such wrong 
 ting to people dat has been so kind to me. Der is 
 no gammon about it. Ah, de vind blow strong, and 
 I go against it ! " 
 
 "Well, Mr. Habenichts," said the baronet, "tell 
 me what has brought you to me ? " 
 
 Herr Habenichts thereupon gave a long explana- 
 tion of his past life and his present circumstances, re- 
 peated his statement that he had never begged from 
 any man, but finally made the somewhat daring pro- 
 posal that if Sir John Marduke would help him to
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 57 
 
 meet the arrears in rent he would reimburse him by 
 monthly instalments out of the fees, and would pay 
 whatever rate of interest was demanded. 
 
 " I am so vrightened for de money-lenders," he 
 explained. " I vould pay you all de fees except 
 vot vas required for vages and my poor lodge at 
 Mrs. Vix." 
 
 In spite of the spontaneous stream of his charity, 
 Sir John Marduke always made careful inquiries 
 when any appeal for money was made to him, and 
 he subjected Herr Habenichts to a searching cross- 
 examination. Having ascertained the general posi- 
 tion of affairs he said that he would make further 
 investigations in other quarters. But there was some- 
 thing so nai've and unworldly in Herr Habenichts, 
 his story was so odd, and yet, judging from the ap- 
 pearance of the man, so probable, that Sir John 
 already began to feel a certain sympathy for him. 
 He told him that he would take the advice of the 
 district visitors and of some of the clergymen of 
 the parish, and if their report was favourable he 
 would be very glad to be able to save Herr Habenichts 
 from ruin. Herr Habenichts as a mark of esteem 
 offered a copy of his book in twelve volumes, dedi- 
 cated to Terpsichore, but Sir John declined, saying 
 that he would buy it. We had intended to conceal 
 what took place immediately after that last dec- 
 laration of Sir John. But when we remembered
 
 58 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 that Homer was not ashamed to give a picture of 
 Achilles in tears, we no longer hesitated to inform 
 the reader that Herr Habenichts suddenly found 
 himself in great stress of emotion. He unbuttoned 
 his frock coat and fumbled for his handkerchief with 
 which he covered his eyes during a few moments. 
 The kind tones of the baronet's voice, the sudden 
 transition from the fear of a catastrophe to the hope 
 of success had been too much for the old Herr's 
 impressionable nature. Finally, however, after some 
 encouraging words from Sir John, he found himself 
 in the street, and was muttering " De bad veather 
 passes again." In fact, the zephyrs were blowing 
 in winter, and the sun was shining brightly on the 
 Marylebone Road, while Herr Habenichts went gaily 
 to Jellini's, stopping on the way to give twopence to 
 a beggar. Sir John Marduke did not disappoint 
 him. The district visitors, the clergymen, and a 
 member of the borough council of St. Pancras testified 
 to the respectable character of Herr Habenichts and 
 his academy, and even stated their opinion that the 
 rooms were a centre of innocent gaiety and recrea- 
 tion, and deserved to be encouraged. That was 
 enough for Sir John. He declared himself a patron, 
 met the arrears of rent, and arranged with his new 
 protege to be paid in easy instalments. And on 
 Herr Habeniehts' side the covenant was faithfully 
 kept. Whether owing to the prestige of Sir John,
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 59 
 
 Harduke's name, or to the renewed energy with 
 which Herr Habenichts threw himself into the battle, 
 the fact remains that Jellini's began to give promise 
 of fresh life. And when at length permission was 
 granted to announce on the card of invitation that 
 the patron among other distinguished persons would 
 be present at the pupils' ball, Herr Habenichts saw, 
 more clearly than ever, the bright side of things.
 
 CHAPTER FOURTH 
 
 THE band had been ordered to play " For he 's a 
 jolly good fellow " as soon as Sir John Marduke and 
 his party entered the hall, which was now filled by 
 the pupils, their parents, and their friends. The 
 space reserved for the dancers was divided off by 
 the red baize benches behind which seats were pro- 
 vided for the spectators. The flowers, shrubs, and 
 coloured lamps made a pretty spectacle; the floor, 
 which was smooth and highly polished, seemed to 
 invite the dancers' feet, and from her pedestal, Terp- 
 sichore, goddess of the dance, with a laurel wreath 
 on her brow, looked down benignantly on her young 
 devotees. At one end of the hall there was a plat- 
 form upon which seats were arranged for the dis- 
 tinguished guests. At the top of the steps stood Herr 
 Habenichts in evening dress and white gloves, and 
 he welcomed those who honoured him by their pres- 
 ence with a bow which would not have disgraced a 
 seventeenth-century Marquis. When Sir John, 
 Monty, and Minnie appeared all the pupils stood up, 
 sang the ditty of greeting to the accompaniment of 
 
 the band, and when the last bar had been played, 
 
 60
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 61 
 
 they cheered with prolonged fervour. Herr Habe- 
 nichts with many smiles conducted his patron and 
 his patron's son and daughter to the most conspic- 
 uous seats, presented each of them with the pro- 
 gramme, and then descended from the platform in 
 order to fulfil the function of master of the cere- 
 monies. On the platform there were already gathered 
 the following notabilities. There was the Member of 
 Parliament for the district, who, in having accepted 
 Herr Habenichts' invitation, was no doubt anxious 
 to win the suffrage of the rising generation. He 
 was accompanied by his wife. Moreover, seated 
 next him was his prospective opponent at the next 
 election, and his wife. And when the two political 
 enemies shook hands, and their wives shook hands, 
 a murmur of approval was heard throughout the 
 hall. Then came the Mayor and Mayoress of St. 
 Pancras, the Mayor and Mayoress of Hampstead, a 
 minor official of the Austrian Embassy, two members 
 of the Board of Guardians, a vicar, and a curate, 
 while the back seats on the platform were occupied 
 by the wealthier warehousemen and shop-keepers of 
 the neighbouring streets, whose sons and daughters 
 were among the dancers. Monty Marduke, opera 
 glass in hand, looked round in terror to discover 
 whether the Dowager Duchess of Berkshire had car- 
 ried out her threat, but she was nowhere to be seen. 
 His father was likewise scanning the audience, and
 
 62 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 was much pleased by the decorum of the pupils, upon 
 whose general bearing he had already congratulated 
 Herr Habenichts, and by the look of pride and sat- 
 isfaction of the parents whose countenances indicated 
 that they belonged to the lower middle class. 
 
 The opening dance, which was a quadrille, had 
 already begun, and the master of ceremonies had 
 wisely ordained that his best dancers should dance 
 immediately in front of the platform. It was there- 
 fore wholly unnecessary for Monty Marduke to keep 
 his opera glass fixed on Miss Dorothy Larkin. He 
 saw her perfectly well, and indeed she was so near 
 that when he used the glass to bring her nearer, 
 she seemed so close that he could have touched her. 
 He laid down the opera glass to make use of his 
 ordinary powers of vision in order to discover whether 
 they magnified her beauty, and he followed her in- 
 tently through the various movements of the quad- 
 rille. Her face, her figure, her waist Heaven help 
 him ! everything about her was nothing less than 
 perfect. He heard his sister say to the baronet, 
 " Look at that handsome girl. Is n't she wonder- 
 ful ? " Sir John began to use his opera glass, and 
 after he had gazed at Dorrie he said, " Yes. But 
 that 's what I 've always said. Take them all in all, 
 there 'a more physical beauty in the so-called lower 
 orders than in the so-called higher." Monty agreed 
 with every word, but remained silent. But although
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 63 
 
 silent he was slightly restless. Somehow or other 
 he found himself looking askance at Dome's partner, 
 a slim, innocent-looking man who happened to be a 
 bank clerk. Monty felt that this person was injuring 
 him. And when Dorrie, who, of course, was in the 
 leading couples, gave her partner her hand, Mr. 
 Monty Marduke not only felt offended and displeased 
 with the partner, but desired to hit him. The five 
 figures of the quadrille corresponded to five stages of 
 undeniable excitement in Mr. Marduke's heart and 
 brain, and when the " Flirtation Figure " was 
 reached, he was in a state of desperation. The opera 
 glass was raised and lowered many times, and at 
 last its owner was nearly hurling it at the insolent 
 gentleman who continued audaciously to galopade 
 with the loveliest girl in London. Forward and back 
 again, curtsey here, curtsey there, visits to the right, 
 visits to the left the entire kaleidoscope of the 
 dance was making Mr. Monty Marduke giddy, but 
 he was specially bewildered by that one bright par- 
 ticular star who seemed to draw all the feebler lights 
 within her orbit. The shimmering muslin dress in 
 its maddening simplicity was a veil for the most 
 exquisite creature to whom Nature had ever given 
 the shape of woman. And Monty had never yet been 
 really in love. He was aware that his sister was 
 observing him. " Damn her cleverness," he thought. 
 And then suddenly he remembered the case of that
 
 64 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 statesman who, when in a ball-room he saw a certain 
 woman for the first time, nudged a friend, and said, 
 " That woman shall be my wife ! " The quadrille 
 was nearing its finish, and at a moment when the 
 configuration of the dance compelled Dorrie to face 
 the platform, her admirer quickly picked up his glass 
 again, and looked straight into her dark, mysterious 
 eyes. She seemed so near to him that he almost heard 
 her breathing. 
 
 But the quadrille was at an end and the dancers 
 were walking to their seats. Only Dorrie stood wait- 
 ing alone, and as Herr Habenichts came forward to 
 conduct her down the room, all eyes were upon her, 
 for the programme said, " A Dance with Castanets 
 Miss Dorothy Larkin." A delightful melody stole 
 forth from the instruments it was part of the Hof 
 Ball Musik of Vienna and presently there was a 
 click of castanets and Dorrie was dancing. Her 
 slight embarrassment soon vanished as she responded 
 in a variety of ravishing motions to the throb of the 
 music. The castanets sounded bewitchingly as they 
 marked the advancing stages of the dance. Now 
 the dancer was moving in slow languorous curves, 
 now she was translating into the rhythm of action the 
 joy and passion which the music suggested, but left to 
 her fully to express. The harmony of her gesture, 
 the rapid twinkling of her feet in the white satin 
 slippers, her beautiful and intelligent face, blushing
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 65 
 
 because of her modesty, her dark dazzling hair 
 all these, and her English girlhood abandoning itself 
 to the joy and triumph of the moment, made an un- 
 forgettable impression on at least one of the specta- 
 tors. It was as if Terpsichore herself had descended 
 from her pedestal to tread a measure among man- 
 kind. After the last click click of the castanets the 
 dancer received an ovation. But accurate observers 
 maintained that the applause was led with special 
 vehemence from the platform, and that from the 
 same direction there came " Bravas ! " uttered by a 
 male voice. After Herr Habenichts had come for- 
 ward and had conducted his pupil to her seat, he was 
 called to the platform by Sir John Marduke, who 
 asked who she was. 
 
 " She is vondervoll," said Herr Habenichts, beam- 
 ing on his patron and buttoning and unbuttoning 
 his own white gloves in excitement. " She is a porn 
 tancer. It is Nature, Sir Marduke. We have taught 
 her leetle, leetle. Her fader is a large cab proprie- 
 tor and farmer. Most respectable people." 
 
 " Indeed, indeed," said Sir John. " She is a 
 charming girl." 
 
 " Vould you believe it ! " he whispered to his 
 daughter after Herr Habenichts had gone down 
 among his pupils again. " A cab proprietor ! I 
 never heard of such an unromantic origin for such a 
 romantic young creature."
 
 66 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 It would be puerile to deny that Mr. Monty Mar- 
 duke had received a slight shock. He repeated the 
 words " cab proprietor," and could find no natural link 
 whatever between the sort of individual whom such 
 words denoted and the wonderful girl whom he saw 
 before him. Nevertheless, feelings of a more serious 
 kind quickly took possession of him. To begin with, 
 he was excessively angry with his sister, although she 
 had scarcely crossed words with him since the danc- 
 ing had begun. In the second place, he was grie- 
 vously annoyed at his father for having mentioned 
 the cab proprietor. In the third place, nothing 
 would have pleased him better at that moment than 
 the departure of his father and sister. He wished 
 them miles away. For, in the fourth place but, 
 really, some courage is required to confess it he 
 had decided to ask Miss Dorothy Larkin to dance 
 with him. Two things were already certain, (1) 
 that if Sir John and Minnie had not been present, 
 the smitten youth would have gone immediately to 
 Herr Habenichts to demand an introduction; and 
 (2) that even although Sir John and Minnie did 
 remain until the end of the programme, the said 
 youth would find it impossible to resist any longer 
 the impulse which was driving him down to the danc- 
 ing floor and into Miss Dorothy Larkin's arms. It 
 was not for nothing that he had been brought up to 
 understand fellowship with those who were in a hum-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 67 
 
 ble station. His heart was in the dance, in the mu- 
 sic, and for the moment class distinctions were 
 obliterated. Class distinctions ? Dorothy had more 
 vitality, more grace than all the insipid beauties 
 whom he had seen in London drawing-rooms and 
 among whom he had been taught to look for a 
 wife. 
 
 " Is the motor waiting ? " he asked his sister. 
 
 " Yes," she replied. 
 
 " How long is the governor going to remain ? " 
 
 " Probably till the very end," said Minnie, 
 maliciously. 
 
 "Really? Did he say so?" 
 
 "Why are you asking?" And Minnie looked at 
 her brother through and through. 
 
 " Would n't it be a joke if I went down there and 
 had a dance ? " suggested Monty. 
 
 " I should think it would," replied Minnie, dread- 
 ing the continuance of the conversation. 
 
 It was exactly the sort of answer to provoke the 
 spirit of mischief and unconventionality in Monty 
 Marduke, and he flatly told his sister what he thought 
 of her. 
 
 " Governor," he said boldly, " would you object if 
 I got down among the fun ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked Sir John. 
 
 " I mean if I went and had a dance," replied 
 Monty, adding in a voice that quivered in spite of
 
 68 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 all his attempt to conceal it, " with . . . with that 
 girl." 
 
 " Why do you ask such a question ? " demanded 
 the baronet. 
 
 " Why," replied the youth, " you said she was 
 charming." 
 
 " That 's no reason why you should dance, . . . 
 mix with . . ." But the words seemed strange to 
 Sir John himself, and he stopped suddenly while an 
 oppressive sensation came over him. 
 
 " Why not ? " continued Monty, with the terrible 
 irresistible logic of youth. " If people are charming, 
 why not get to know them? It would show that 
 we 're not shams. What 's the good of sitting up 
 here ? At what precise distance are you going to 
 keep yourself away from those sort of people ? This 
 is charity at the end of a ten-foot pole." 
 
 The baronet was angry and confused, for his 
 son's proposal had revealed in a flash the secret con- 
 tradiction which lay in the heart of his philan- 
 thropy. Was it to arrive at this dilemma that Sir 
 John Marduke, baronet and millionaire, had been 
 preaching the doctrine of human fellowship and 
 the necessity of causing all the social ranks to 
 intermingle at some point for the good of the 
 world ? 
 
 " Where 's the harm ? " demanded Monty, judg- 
 ing his father out of that father's mouth.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 69 
 
 " If you dance," said Sir John, sternly, " I will 
 leave the place at once." 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Monty," said Minnie. 
 
 " You would shake hands with these people, gov- 
 ernor ? " asked Monty, ironically. 
 
 " Most certainly," replied the baronet. 
 
 " And why should n't I dance with them ? " asked 
 Monty. 
 
 Sir John Marduke exchanged pained glances with 
 his daughter. 
 
 " How often have you said," continued Monty, 
 " that the caste system is a curse, that it stops the 
 growth of a nation, and so on? A minute ago you 
 were talking about f the so-called higher and the so- 
 called lower.' Does your theory break down so 
 easily after all ? " 
 
 " I refuse to discuss the subject at present," re- 
 torted Sir John. 
 
 " So do I," said Monty, and he left the platform, 
 and went straight to Herr Habenichts, and demanded 
 an introduction to Miss Dorothy Larkin. 
 
 " But dat is too great honour vor her," said Herr 
 Habenichts, surprised and looking towards the plat- 
 form for guidance. " Vot does your fader say ? He 
 is not pleased, I see." 
 
 " Come on, Herr Habenichts," said Monty, lead- 
 ing the way, while Herr Habenichts followed re- 
 luctantly to the spot where Dorothy sat, still ani-
 
 TO THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 mated by her recent achievement in the dance with 
 castanets. And, indeed, Herr Habenichts need 
 scarcely have followed at all because Monty practi- 
 cally introduced himself. The dancers were rising for 
 the waltz, and to the horror of two spectators on the 
 platform, their kinsman was seen putting his arm 
 round Miss Dorothy Larkin's waist. There was a 
 sudden buzz in the audience as it became known that 
 Sir John Marduke's son had come from the plat- 
 form to take part in the dancing. And it soon be- 
 came evident that the youth deserved the reputation 
 which he enjoyed among his own class of being the 
 finest waltzer in London. The band was playing 
 Johann Strauss's Friihlings Stimmen, a piece of 
 dance music sufficient to stimulate the feet of every 
 waltzer to take the floor. Instinctively, however, the 
 other couples fell back spell-bound, to watch this 
 straight-legged specimen of an English athlete, 
 dressed in the most faultless evening clothes which 
 Savile Row could produce, actually leading the waltz 
 with Herr Habenichts' favoured pupil. Uncon- 
 scious of the storm which was gathering on the plat- 
 form, Herr Habenichts in an ecstasy contemplated 
 the pair, and followed them with his eyes round and 
 round and up and down the room. Suddenly, how- 
 ever, his attention was diverted by a movement on 
 the platform. Sir John and Minnie had risen, and 
 were preparing to walk out. Herr Habenichts
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 71 
 
 hurried towards them and met them at the foot of 
 the platform steps. It was obvious that the baronet 
 was very angry, and when Herr Habenichts ven- 
 tured to speak he was rather frigidly received. He 
 grasped the situation at once, however, and expected 
 with his usual optimism to be able to soothe his 
 patron and alter his decision. His own passionate 
 delight in observing rhythmic movement and his 
 sense of beauty made it impossible for him to suppose 
 that any one could leave the hall as long as that 
 waltz lasted. In fact, he pretended to believe that 
 Sir John and his daughter were wishing to secure a 
 better view. 
 
 " Your son do it out of de kindness, Sir Marduke ! " 
 said Herr Habenichts. " He is so like his fader. 
 You go ? No, no, look, he is like de beautiful 
 Dionysus; see de grace of dat limb. Dat is gala, 
 dat is festa. It is like a young Greek god in sval- 
 low tails ! " 
 
 While he was delivering himself of these words 
 Herr Habenichts was compelled to follow Sir John 
 and Minnie Marduke into the vestibule, and his 
 attempts to persuade them to return were utterly 
 futile. Sir John called for his motor, and we are 
 grieved to say that he entered the car without even 
 having shaken hands with Herr Habenichts. Such 
 is the hidden force of pride, and such is the sudden 
 revelation of its power even in the heart of a gentle,
 
 72 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 true, and good man like Sir John Marduke. His 
 daughter, however, having noticed Herr Habenichts' 
 discomfiture, attempted to mitigate the impression, 
 and shook hands, saying, "We did not mean to see 
 the programme to a finish." Accepting this comfort 
 for what it was worth, Herr Habenichts returned to 
 the hall where the piquancy of the scene which had 
 just been enacted had been thoroughly enjoyed by 
 every one. And the patron's son was still dancing. 
 Even although the Dowager Duchess of Berkshire 
 had carried out her threat and been present, Monty 
 would not have desisted. For in his heart which 
 was a good honest one he knew that no vulgar 
 passion was impelling him, but an instinct that was 
 great, and destined, and even elemental. In plain 
 truth the elements of his being had been suddenly 
 and singularly stirred, and he could not help him- 
 self. Here was something new and unforeseen in 
 his life. ~No doubt to a cynical observer, whose 
 head is lined with ice, there was a comic side in the 
 spectacle. But Monty was conscious of nothing ex- 
 cept delight in the girl and in the dance. And when 
 in the full bovine gaze of the audience they had 
 waltzed themselves weary and now sat on one of the 
 red baize benches, Monty was no whit embarrassed. 
 It was Dorrie who was trembling and blushing, and 
 it was Herr Habenichts who was looking a little 
 scared. Monty was talking about Essex, every nook
 
 THE OLD DAtfCE MASTER 73 
 
 of which she knew, and in which he said he had 
 hunted; about her father's old farm near Colches- 
 ter; then about her love of pictures, of which she 
 knew far more than he; and then about her love of 
 modern poetry, of which she had a full store in her 
 memory. Where had she got it all ? It must be 
 admitted that it was with some anxiety that he had 
 looked forward to her manner of speech and pro- 
 nunciation, for his own ear was fastidious and 
 refined. But to his surprise her English was pure 
 and well chosen. They danced no more that night, 
 and yet the hours flew. When the programme was 
 not far from its close, Monty proposed that they 
 should go to the corridor, where they began to walk 
 up and down. They were gazed at by the rabble 
 of dancers, who behaved somewhat as common birds 
 behave when birds of bright and strange plumage 
 come among them. The platform in the hall was 
 almost empty, and already some of the dancers were 
 departing. And in truth Herr Habenichts believed 
 that Mr. Marduke's sudden act had ruined the pro- 
 gramme because interest had been transferred to him 
 and Dorrie. The Herr had gone for a few moments 
 to his own private room, and in an access of despair 
 had begun wringing his hands. At length, assuring 
 himself that all would be well, he emerged again, 
 and beheld Monty and Dorrie walking up and down. 
 She had put on her pink hood and cloak and oh,
 
 74 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 reader! the patron's son was carrying the fan and 
 the satin slippers. Herr Habenichts attempted to 
 look reproachfully, but the truth was that a frown 
 was never able to settle on his face. Monty congratu- 
 lated him on the evening's success. 
 
 " But," exclaimed the old Tanzmeister, " de patron 
 has gone ! " 
 
 It was almost on the stroke of eleven, and Monty 
 proposed that they should sup somewhere, and in- 
 vited Herr Habenichts to accompany them. But 
 Herr Habenichts held up his hands and said no. 
 Dorrie likewise declined. The pupils and friends 
 were jostling in the vestibule. Curious glances were 
 cast at the pair, and some very malicious tongues 
 were busy. The credit of Herr Habenichts' Academy 
 was at stake, and, to his dismay, he heard Monty 
 Marduke offer to see Miss Dorothy Larkin home. 
 Dorothy thanked him, blushing, but very graciously 
 refused. He insisted, and she refused. He still in- 
 sisted, and she seemed less resolute. It was evident 
 that the crowd were waiting to see what was going 
 to happen, or, in their own way of expressing it, 
 what he was going to do with her. 
 
 " One of my father's cabs is coming for me, Mr. 
 Marduke," said Dorothy. 
 
 And sure enough, there at the door were Swefling 
 and Audacity punctual to the minute. 
 
 " Nothing could be better," said Monty.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 75 
 
 Therefore a lane was made for Cinderella and 
 the Prince, and Herr Habenichts with the gravest 
 misgivings, and many mysterious exclamations in his 
 own language, saw his pupil and his patron's son 
 walk out together. Dorrie was flushed and nervous. 
 She felt the fascination of Marduke. His eyes at- 
 tracted her. From the moment that he had touched 
 her in the dance her feelings had been in a whirl of 
 joy and wonder. Herr Habenichts' tall porter looked 
 on cynically, while he prepared to assist them into 
 the cab. 
 
 " Yes," Monty was saying to her, " you will allow 
 me .to come ? You must n't go about alone." 
 
 And he spoke with a concern that was personal 
 and unmistakable. 
 
 " That cab brought me," she said, without ventur- 
 ing to look at the driver. 
 
 For it will be admitted that it was for Swelling 
 that the main surprise of the entire evening had 
 been reserved. He gazed down in bewilderment, as 
 he saw Miss Dorothy Larkin being escorted by an 
 elegant young man in fine dark overcoat, pumps, 
 and a crush hat. And when the possessor of these 
 things nodded up towards the dicky and said " Home, 
 cabby," Mr. Richard Swefling, obeying some blind 
 instinct, seized his whip. Before he started to drive 
 he opened the trap-door, and looked down in a state 
 of alarm and indignation, and discovered that an
 
 76 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 v 
 
 animated conversation was taking place. Then, using 
 his whip on Audacity, he made that highly strung 
 animal dart forward in such a manner as to cause 
 Mr. Monty Marduke to observe that the horse had 
 been, and still was, a well-bred, spirited beast 
 
 " And what a jolly cab ! " he added. 
 
 " It 's father's best," said Dorothy. 
 
 " Let 's tell your cabby to drive around a little ? " 
 suggested Mr. Monty Marduke. 
 
 " Oh no, please no. They 're waiting for me," 
 said Dorothy. " I '11 be late as it is." 
 
 As Mr. Richard Swening turned into Euston Road, 
 he could not refrain from opening the trap-door 
 again, and he would have liked to use the butt end 
 of his whip on Mr. Marduke's hat. For his instinct 
 seemed to tell him that he was driving an enemy. 
 Monty, however, was chatting gaily, and was making 
 his companion promise to send him some of her 
 pictures and sketches. 
 
 " I '11 get them into the Academy in spring," he 
 said grandly. 
 
 " Some horrible stuff is to be seen in the Academy," 
 observed Dorrie. 
 
 He turned to look at her, and his wonder grew. 
 
 Presently he found his right arm making tenta- 
 tive movements, in the direction of the pink cloak, 
 and all in a sudden, unable to master himself, he 
 pressed Dorrie towards him, and gave her a kiss.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 77 
 
 Providence had kindly seen to it that at that moment 
 the trap-door on the roof remained closed. But 
 Dorrie was in tears. She knew not why. They were 
 strange and sudden tears, not of sorrow. But she 
 was amazed and perturbed. 
 
 " Forgive me," he said, " I could n't help it. You 
 are a dear girl." 
 
 And here they are in Larkin's yard. The moment 
 that Audacity's hoofs clattered on the cobble stones, 
 the house door was opened, as if those who opened 
 it were impatient. The incandescent gas lamp was 
 still burning above the doorstep, and a dim light 
 was visible in one of the stables at the far end of the 
 yard. Sam Larkin, Mrs. Bleeks, and Mrs. Muzzey 
 were standing on the threshold. Dorothy trembled, 
 and whispered, " That 's my father, and these are 
 my aunts," and she did not wish Marduke to hear 
 the women talk. But Mrs. Bleeks was already talk- 
 ing volubly. 
 
 " Nice and late," she was saying. 
 
 " Who 's that with her ? " demanded Mrs. Muzzey. 
 
 There was consternation when Marduke descended 
 from the cab, lifted his hat, and then assisted Dor- 
 rie to descend. 
 
 " Mr. Marduke," Dorrie explained, " has very 
 kindly seen me home, father." 
 
 Larkin, somewhat bewildered, lifted his hat in 
 turn, and then there was an awkward pause while
 
 78 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 Swefling looked down on the group, and was more 
 bewildered than any of them. 
 
 " Cabby," said Monty, " you '11 drive me home ? " 
 
 Swefling, who had no desire to do anything of 
 the sort, was, however, gifted with the shrewdness 
 typical of the London cabman, and thought that it 
 would be wise to know where this stranger lived. 
 Meantime Mrs. Bleeks was unable to repress her 
 feelings, and Sam Larkin's evident displeasure and 
 suspicion gave her encouragement. 
 
 " I says," said she, " only wagabones goes abaht 
 at sich an hour, keepin' ole parties like us out of 
 their beds." 
 
 Whereupon Mr. Monty Marduke burst out 
 laughing. 
 
 " Oh," she continued, looking at him, " I s'pose 
 a young gent like you thinks we keeps fancy men in 
 this 'ere yard," which was a very insulting remark, 
 although, happily, Marduke did not understand its 
 real significance. 
 
 " It 's too herly for 'er to begin like that," said 
 Mrs. Bleeks, sternly. " Things is gettin' wuss and 
 wuss, ain't they, Liza? As if sich goin's on was 
 allowed in the reign of Queen Wictoria ! It 's not 
 respeckable for a young gent wot should know 
 better." 
 
 Marduke, who was more amused than annoyed, 
 cut Mrs. Bleeks short by saying good-night to Dorrie,
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 79 
 
 lifting his hat to the entire group, entering the han- 
 som, and giving his address to Swefling. As the 
 cab passed out of the yard, Sam Larkin seized 
 Dome by the shoulders, and pushed her into the 
 house. 
 
 Meantime Swefling seemed to have communicated 
 his indignation down the reins to Audacity, for 
 the horse went along the Marylebone Road as if 
 that thoroughfare had been the hunting-field. And 
 it was at a highly dangerous angle that Swefling 
 turned into Park Crescent In less than a minute 
 he drew up at the house in Portland Place. Monty 
 stood smiling on the foot-board, and laid half a sov- 
 ereign on the roof of the cab, within reach of Swef- 
 ling's hand. 
 
 " Well, cabby," said he, " your governor 's got a 
 damned pretty daughter." 
 
 Swefling's blue eyes were glaring at his enemy. 
 
 " Get out ! " said Swefling, as he picked up the 
 half-sovereign, and flung it in Mr. Monty Marduke's 
 face. The coin fell on the street, and went jingling 
 into the gutter, and dropped down a grating. Mar- 
 <luke was scarcely aware of what had happened when 
 he saw Swefling seizing the whip, and making it 
 whizz as if he meant to strike him. And, indeed, 
 Swefling had no other intention. But the sound of 
 the lash made Audacity plunge, and then the cab 
 lurched in such a way that Marduke was thrown
 
 80 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 violently to one side, and it was only thanks to his 
 agility that he landed on his feet on the pavement. 
 Two footmen were standing at the open door, and 
 before Marduke could collect his thoughts the han- 
 som was being driven rapidly away.
 
 CHAPTER FIFTH 
 
 HEBE HABENICHTS always crossed to that side of 
 the street on which the sun was shining, and in the 
 contemplation of his own fortunes he adopted the 
 same policy. He pointed out to all whom it might 
 concern and it concerns the whole world that 
 clouds are by their .nature shifting things, and that 
 the wind, like a London policeman, compels them to 
 move on. Therefore he met adversities fearlessly, 
 looked into their domineering, impudent faces, and 
 said 
 
 " I 'm not vrightened vor you. I '11 dance upon 
 you!" 
 
 He professed to enjoy the storm winds of life. 
 Of course he was too well and deeply educated not 
 to know that there is a good deal of devilry in the 
 scheme of things. He admitted that the smoke of 
 battle was always rising, and he doubted whether, 
 even on the hottest, darkest, reddest battlefield, Na- 
 ture provided her own ambulance. But it was long 
 ago that the bright forces of life had won his adora- 
 tion, and in his own character there were great re- 
 
 81
 
 82 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 serves of sunshine. He considered " Carpe diem " 
 wise advice. But he added slyly and with just a 
 hint of extraordinary knowledge of the world, that 
 youth if it knows life and Latin prefers to 
 whisper to itself, " Carpe noctem." That, within 
 limits, was what Monty Marduke had done. Because 
 of mere joy, he had gone down from the proud, ex- 
 clusive platform, and danced. It was beautiful, and 
 he loved the youth for it. Class prejudices, class 
 conventions, and all the things that sever the human 
 ranks had been defied by a spontaneous instinct and 
 act. It would be wrong to deny that Herr Habenichts 
 was slightly perturbed when he thought of the wrath 
 of Sir John, and for some time he even remained in 
 a state of frenzy, when he recalled the disappearance 
 of Monty and Dorrie in the cab. It looked like an 
 elopement. But in spite of some twinges of anxiety 
 he passed the Sunday immediately following the ball 
 at Jellini's in his usual serenity. 
 
 Being a man of much benevolence he invariably 
 made the first advances in friendship, and he was 
 eager to welcome any stranger in Wix's Residential 
 Hotel. He had suffered too much martyrdom at 
 the hands of Mrs. Wix not to feel sympathy for 
 her fresh victims. But his efforts were often re- 
 warded by a cold stare, and he found it difficult to 
 thaw the ice and snow of British taciturnity. He 
 was loquacious, and was once asked why a damned
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTEK 83 
 
 foreigner should presume to patronise Englishmen 
 in their own country. Unweariedly he pleaded origi- 
 nal racial relationship, and he quoted Tacitus and 
 Caesar. Even when the second parlour was filled 
 with men, it was filled also with silence, and Herr 
 Habenichts looked mournfully at the row of mouths 
 from which nothing escaped except tobacco smoke. 
 His remarks in broken English on the state of Lon- 
 don weather, or on the state of Mrs. Wix's temper, 
 or on the attractions of Miss Polly Wix, her daughter, 
 or on the most recent exhibitions of Wixian soup, 
 Wixian mutton, Wixian coffee, and Wixian tea, were 
 received either in monosyllabic grunts of acquies- 
 cence, or in profound silence. The latest arrival 
 was Mr. Richard Swefling, whose prosperity had so 
 greatly increased that he could now afford the bed 
 and breakfast which Mrs. Wix allotted to her second- 
 class customers. But the chief motive of his change 
 of residence was a desire to prove that he was rising 
 in the world, and thereby to impress Mr. Sam Larkin. 
 For Swefling had actually been hoping that the day 
 was not distant when he might venture not only 
 to make love and a declaration to Miss Dorothy 
 Larkin, but to propose himself as a son-in-law to 
 her father. His youth and smart appearance pleased 
 Herr Habenichts, who greeted him in a very friendly 
 way, and wondered to what profession he belonged. 
 But Swefling was in an unfortunate mood. Not
 
 84 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 twenty-four hours had elapsed since he had thrown 
 the half-sovereign in Marduke's face, and he had 
 sat all day brooding over the events of the pre- 
 vious night. In spite of many efforts Herr Habe- 
 nichts was unable to tap the sources if any existed 
 of Mr. Swefling's conversational powers. In fact 
 Swefling's appearance said plainly, "Either you or 
 I, sir, will have to leave this room." Herr Habe- 
 nichts accepted the hint, and after having said to a 
 tall man who was sitting opposite Swelling by the 
 fire that he would see him later, he did leave the 
 room. He marched up the long stair, breathing 
 heavily all the way, to the top flat, went to his bed- 
 room, and, since it was Sunday afternoon, he lay 
 down in despair on his bed, went to sleep, and had 
 a dream about the Danube. 
 
 Meanwhile Swefling did not stir from the horse- 
 hair easy-chair by the fire, and gloomily smoked his 
 pipe. Occasionally he glanced at the long-legged 
 person opposite, and once their eyes met. 
 
 " Orful ole tattle box, that Austrian," remarked 
 the stranger, who had a sleek pale face and the thin, 
 white, fine hands of a tailor, or an expert pocket 
 thief. " Orful prattle basket. Talks no end, but 
 'e 's a good sort, too. Best ole feller you ever saw." 
 
 " Is he ? " said Swefling, and the conversation 
 seemed to be at an end. 
 
 " Would you b'lieve it ? " continued the stranger,
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 85 
 
 '" that ole swag belly axually learns people dancin' 
 and dances hisself ! " 
 
 " Does he ? " said Swefling, with a slight, eager 
 start, when he heard the word " dancin'." 
 
 But his tone and manner were still those of a 
 man who did not want to be drawn into a conversa- 
 tion. The stranger was discouraged, and took refuge 
 in a Sunday paper, while Swening continued to 
 smoke his pipe in silence. 
 
 The " second parlour " was so named because those 
 boarders who had the use of it paid cheaper terms, 
 and did not mix, except once a week at the Sunday 
 supper, with Mrs. Wix's more distinguished clients. 
 iWix had been chief steward on a great Atlantic liner 
 and his wife had been head stewardess. Having 
 grown weary of their sea life, and having gathered 
 a substantial harvest in salaries and tips, they retired 
 and conceived the plan of carrying on a hotel as if 
 it had been a ship divided into first and second class 
 accommodation. Two old houses in Fashion Row 
 suited their design, and they broke through the par- 
 tition wall. On one side was the first class (in the 
 Wixian sense) and on the other the second, and a 
 common kitchen supplied the two different kinds of 
 fare. The hotel was within earshot of the traffic of 
 Euston Road, of which a glimpse could be caught 
 through the narrow street which led out of Fashion 
 Row. For Fashion Row formed a sort of loop of
 
 86 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 which the aforesaid street was the loose end. Or 
 it might be described as shaped like a broad flat 
 bottle with the street for a neck. Shabby gardens 
 with a few dim, starved trees, dusty bushes, and 
 tatterdemalion flower-beds filled the central space, 
 and here Herr Habenichts used to dose on one of the 
 benches on sunny summer afternoons. But alas, 
 Fashion had long ago deserted Fashion Row, which 
 was erected in the days when Russell Square was 
 being built The proximity of the three great north- 
 ern termini had ruined the residential district, 
 and Fashion Row was in the direct radius of their 
 blight. Often the inmates at Wix's were roused in 
 the night by the whistles of trains arriving and de- 
 parting from King's Cross. Yet it was precisely 
 the nearness of the railways which had caused Mr. 
 ,Wix to cast his net in such a place. Shabby gentle- 
 men could carry their bags to and from the house to 
 the stations without requiring to hire a cab, and it 
 was from the class of genteel paupers that the Wixian 
 inmates were largely recruited. Struggling clerks, 
 elderly spinsters, with purses as lean as their own 
 bodies, the poorer sort of commercial travellers, and 
 a collection of stray visitors from the provinces eager 
 to do London on the cheap, these and their like 
 formed the prey upon which Wix thrived. Contrary 
 to the benevolent hopes of his friends, and the ma- 
 levolent hopes of his enemies, his venture became a
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 87 
 
 success, which his death in no wise interrupted. For 
 Mrs. Wix, assisted by her daughter, was thoroughly 
 capable of carrying on the Wixian policy and tradi- 
 tion. Mrs. Wix speculated in decayed gentlefolks. 
 Their misfortunes had made them docile. They ate 
 less, and, with a few exceptions, grumbled less than 
 the common upstarts who had a few guineas in their 
 pockets. She found that they hated a scene, and 
 rather than create one, would silently endure the 
 eccentricities of a cuisine which in the days of their 
 splendour they would have been ashamed to offer 
 to their servants. She watched them singular an- 
 cient spider that she was swallowing with apparent 
 equanimity soup which was skilly, tea which appeared 
 to be an infusion of straw, coffee which had an inti- 
 mate relationship with the sand of the sea-shore, bull 
 beef which was well, bull beef; and mutton, the 
 juices of which had long ago been frozen out of it 
 during the passage over-sea. If they approached 
 their flock beds with a sigh she never heard it, and 
 she could only guess what torment they suffered in 
 her cotton sheets. They remained under her roof 
 not only because they were afraid lest they might 
 find elsewhere worse fare for more money, but be- 
 cause the chronic arrears of their payments delivered 
 them into her hands. She had invented a unique and 
 most effective discipline, which consisted in the re- 
 moval to the second-class quarters of those guests
 
 88 THE OLD DANCE MASTEK 
 
 of the first class who were guilty of too obstinate in- 
 solvency. This method caused genuine dread to the 
 more sensitive of her clients, for their disappearance 
 from table number one, and their appearance at 
 table number two, declared their condition to the 
 world. According as their fortunes ebbed they were 
 transported from the more expensive to the less ex- 
 pensive wing of the Wix hotel, and if their insol- 
 vency became incurable they were transported into 
 the street. Herr Habenichts knew all about it, for 
 lie had gone through every stage of the apprentice- 
 ship. Mrs. Wix seldom made mistakes. She had 
 reasons for being patient with certain of her strange 
 guests, because she knew exactly when the pittances 
 on which they lived came dribbling in, and she never 
 lost a moment in asserting her prior rights as land- 
 lady to immediate payment. Like the second-class 
 passengers in a ship the inmates of number two were 
 confined to their own quarters, whereas those of 
 number one roamed over the entire establishment. 
 But they seldom availed themselves of the privilege. 
 Herr Habenichts, who was diligently paying his 
 debts to Mrs. Wix and to other creditors, was con- 
 tent to remain in the humbler apartments. The tap- 
 room was at hand, for after many efforts the Wixes 
 had obtained a licence to sell liquor, and Herr Habe- 
 nichts frequently ordered a glass of beer in the smok- 
 ing-room. We have already said that once a week
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 89 
 
 the superior and the inferior guests came together at 
 table-d'hote under the presidency of Mrs. Wix. The 
 reason was that on Sunday afternoons and evenings 
 some of the members of the Wixian staff were per- 
 mitted to enjoy a half -holiday. Although Wurm, 
 the greasy and thoroughly amiable Austrian waiter, 
 was able to work miracles of service, he could hardly 
 be expected to be in two places at the same moment. 
 Hence Mrs. Wix's battered notabilities, together with 
 her commoner rout, assembled every Sunday evening, 
 precisely at half-past seven o'clock, to consume what- 
 ever Providence and Mrs. Wix had placed on the 
 table. Some of her more fastidious clients were 
 observed to look in a condescending way towards the 
 lower part of this festive board, where the humbler 
 guests employed knife and fork with that energy 
 which tough beef and stale bread demand. There 
 had even been a proposal that the supper, if it had 
 to be served in the same room, should at least be 
 spread on two separate tables. Mrs. Wix peremp- 
 torily refused this concession. She was interested 
 in politics, and she declared that it was good for 
 the House of Lords, by which she meant her more 
 pretentious clients, to become acquainted with the 
 members of the lower house, her true and faithful 
 Commons. And so there she sat with her enormous 
 head of hair, which was flaxen when it should have 
 been and would have been grey, if only its owner
 
 90 THE OLD DA>TCE MASTER 
 
 had left it to Nature to tinge. Her eyes were large 
 and brilliant, her complexion was suspiciously 
 healthy, and she had a strong chin and a look of de- 
 termination which would not have disgraced Mrs. 
 Bleeks. She decided to outshine as long as possible 
 her daughter, Polly, who presided at the other end 
 of the table among the humbler folk. The incan- 
 descent lamp which hung from the ceiling imme- 
 diately above the centre of the long narrow table, 
 even although it was shrouded in violent yellow silk, 
 emitted a dreadful glare, which lit up every face, 
 and allowed Herr Habenichts to read strange mat- 
 ters in each of them, as in a book of life. Once 
 Lady Epworth in her silk dress, which was thirty- 
 three years old last spring, was seen weeping over 
 a plate of hot eels which she positively refused to 
 touch. 
 
 " Then she can leave it, and go to the Ritz as 
 soon as she pays her bill," said Mrs. Wix to Wurm, 
 and warned him not to give Lady Epworth much 
 pudding. 
 
 As a matter of fact Lady Epworth and Sir Samuel 
 were in debt to Mrs. Wix to the amount of nine- 
 teen pounds, two shillings and threepence, and Mrs. 
 Wix declared that she would probably have to wait 
 a century for it. And as Lady Holland spoke to 
 Allen, so Mrs. Wix to Herr Habenichts, whose appe- 
 tite she feared.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 91 
 
 " The potatoes are finished, Herr Habenichts," 
 she said one evening ; " instead of a third helping 
 of them you will require to be content with rice." 
 
 Like a school-boy Herr Habenichts looked eagerly 
 for the next course, and moreover, he had faith in 
 Wurm, who, either out of patriotism and racial 
 feeling, or else out of ordinary human sympathy and 
 a desire to humble Mrs. Wix, laid upon Herr Habe- 
 nichts' plate an enormous slice of roly-poly. There 
 are compensations in the world. 
 
 Mr. Richard Swefling had only been ten days in 
 the house, and yet Miss Polly Wix had conceived a 
 very great admiration for him. Although he paid 
 second-class rates, this generous creature with flaxen 
 hair, which really grew out of her own scalp, full 
 blue eyes, and full red lips, longed to give him first- 
 class fare. But she stood in awe of her mother. 
 It was not Polly's, it was Mrs. Wix's fault that 
 Swefling was given the shabbiest attic bedroom in the 
 hotel, blankets whose wool had long been washed 
 away, sheets with holes in them, and a chaff pillow. 
 Indeed, when after a shrewd look at him Mrs. Wix 
 had inquired what his profession was, and he had 
 replied with much pride and satisfaction that he was 
 a hansom cabman, she declared that it was necessary 
 to draw the line somewhere. It was part of her 
 policy to subject new and doubtful persons to a 
 kind of quarantine, and she placed them in purga-
 
 92 THE OLD DANCE MASTEE 
 
 tory before she admitted them to paradise. Swefling 
 stated that he wanted only bed and breakfast and 
 the Sunday supper, because on every other night of 
 the week he was on the streets till very late, and, 
 of course, he took his meals in taverns during the 
 day. When Mrs. Wix asked him what his weekly 
 profits amounted to, he demanded what business it 
 was of hers. 
 
 " Fluff it ! " says she, " we Ve got to be careful, 
 for all sort of fop doodles comes here, as if it was 
 a beggars' hotel." 
 
 Then she looked him up and down again, and 
 became less churlish, when he seemed indignant at 
 such treatment, and was on the point of going away. 
 So that after he had tabled a week's payment in 
 advance, Mrs. Wix permitted his modest trunk to 
 be carried up the interminable stairs by Wurm, who 
 with many a " Mein Gott ! " deposited it on the 
 floor. Very cautiously, very cunningly, very timidly, 
 Polly suggested that Mr. Swefling should be granted 
 a room on the floor immediately beneath, and gave 
 as the reason that since he came in so late at night, 
 he disturbed the other boarders, for he usually rushed 
 up the stairs three at a time. She met her mother's 
 eyes, and quailed. 
 
 " You rag bag ! " said Mrs. Wix, " what do you 
 know 'bout the time 'e comes in? You worthless 
 wretch, disgracin' yourself by makin' eyes at a cab-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 93 
 
 man. I '11 turn 'im out, and 'e can sleep with his 
 cab horse." 
 
 Polly, as pale as a muffin, fell into one of those 
 weeping fits in which she usually, discharged the 
 energy of agitated nerves. 
 
 " 'E can go and eat horse steaks," continued Mrs. 
 Wix. 
 
 What imp of boldness suggested to Polly the with- 
 ering retort 
 
 " He 's come to the right place, then. Wy, last 
 Friday, if that wasn't " 
 
 " Scissors ! " exclaimed Mrs. Wix, cutting her 
 short. " You moonsick wretch, you '11 not put pepper 
 in my eyes. Say another word, and out 'e '11 go. 
 I can pick and choose, and don't have no need of 
 cabmen and gutterbloods." 
 
 " Ye 'd skin a razor," said Polly, contemptuously, 
 and took no part in the service during three 
 days. 
 
 For that was the only mode of revenge in which 
 she was able to indulge, and it gave her genuine 
 comfort when she knew that she was upsetting the 
 house. It was really her interest in Swelling that 
 was the means of restoring her to life and duty. 
 Twice she had seen him come in at midnight in his 
 smart silk hat, and she had served him in the parlour 
 with a glass of bitter. If cotton sheets of a some- 
 what better quality were slipped on to his bed, if a
 
 94 THE OLD DANCE MASTEK 
 
 tattered but not uncomfortable easy-chair was placed 
 in his room, and if a faded toilet cover was made to 
 conceal the nakedness of a ramshackle table, and if 
 the stain on the carpet was covered by a mat, he had 
 to thank Polly. Mrs. Wix seldom climbed that stair 
 except when she had something disagreeable to say 
 to Herr Habenichts, whose room was next Swefling's. 
 So that Polly was able to bestow her generous atten- 
 tions in comparative safety. Nay, one night when 
 Mrs. Wix was in profound slumbers, Wurm was 
 sent toiling up with a plate of hot mutton and greens, 
 and a bottle of ale, which he presented to Mr. Richard 
 Swefling, with Miss Polly Wix's compliments. 
 
 It is a pleasure to be able to announce that Mr. 
 Swefling returned thanks for these amenities with a 
 sincere heart and in the best style. But his affec- 
 tions were wholly elsewhere. Polly noticed a sudden 
 change in his entire demeanour on that Sunday morn- 
 ing. He had given her a friendly wink, and a smile 
 every time he had met her on the stair or in a 
 passage, but now his face was not only smileless but 
 fierce. She wondered what had happened to him, 
 and desired to ask if he were ill. On various and 
 idle pretexts she had entered the second parlour, 
 but she had found him hour after hour sitting glum 
 on the horse-hair chair, apparently indifferent to 
 her presence, and dead to the world. For the fifth 
 time she entered to ask if Herr Habenichts was in
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 95 
 
 the room, although she had just seen him go upstairs. 
 In spite of the long-legged stranger who still sat 
 opposite Swelling, and whose presence Polly resented, 
 she took courage, and actually addressed a personal 
 question point-blank to the man whom she believed 
 to be the smartest, horsiest, most cavalierrlike gentle- 
 man in London. 
 
 " Lor' love you," she said, " whatever is the 
 matter ? " 
 
 Swefling looked up, liked the tone of her voice, 
 felt its sympathy, nodded and smiled, and replied 
 
 " Don't worry, Miss Polly. / 'm all right ! " 
 
 Whereupon Polly felt her bosom heave, and she 
 retreated in confusion. 
 
 " That foxy-'aired gal," said the six-foot stranger, 
 " is a nice bit o' muslin." 
 
 " She is," said Swefling, still in his trance and his 
 monosyllables. 
 
 He had been seeing scarlet throughout the after- 
 noon. But the man opposite was so persistent in 
 questions and observations that Swefling at last began 
 to survey him in detail. He had a lean look, hungry 
 cheeks, and now, since the incandescent gas bracket 
 had been lit, his face was seen to be amazingly pale. 
 When his eyeballs moved, there was a flash in them 
 which seemed to illuminate a care-haunted counte- 
 nance. The moustache was black, but not abundant, 
 the jaw was powerful, the lips were thin, and al-
 
 96 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 though the forehead sloped slightly, there were signs 
 of a certain concentration and resoluteness of pur- 
 pose above the eyebrows, signs, indeed, of a struggle 
 for self-mastery which had failed. Since the month 
 was January the stranger was unseasonably clothed. 
 In fact, he wore a dark blue striped suit of Saxon 
 flannel which had been bought second hand, and had 
 been worn during two months of the preceding 
 summer by the best-dressed man in Mayfair, who 
 invariably disposed of his cast-off garments for cash. 
 The necktie and the linen were not those of a really 
 prosperous person, and the watch chain was made of 
 nickel. But there was an air of pseudo-refinement, 
 the look of a man who tried hard to varnish himself 
 up as a gentleman. He wore, moreover, patent 
 leather boots with kid uppers, which, although they 
 had been bought as a misfit, were regarded admir- 
 ingly by their present owner. 
 
 " Strike me blind ! " exclaimed Swelling, " if I 
 y ave n't seen you before." 
 
 The stranger reddened and winced, and then 
 looked straight at Swefling, and began to smile. 
 
 " You were drivin' a growler then," said the 
 stranger. 
 
 " Yes," admitted Swefling, not wholly pleased, 
 because he considered a four-wheeler a poor thing. 
 
 " That was two years ago, and only for a month to 
 oblige old Larkin, but I Ve got a 'ansom now, tip top."
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 97, 
 
 " It 's a bit odd that we should strike up against 
 each other 'ere." 
 
 " I never heard tell of your name, though," said 
 Swefling. 
 
 " Ridpath. I s'pose it 's been often enough in the 
 papers," observed the celebrity. " And so you 're 
 the chap wot drove me and the two beaks to 'Olloway. 
 Well! Well!" 
 
 " Yes," said Swefling. " 'Ow long did they give 
 you?" 
 
 " Got six months 'ard that time, but I broke 
 down at Wormwood Scrubbs," said Eidpath. " O 
 Lor' ! " 
 
 Swefling had no desire to make Ridpath uncom- 
 fortable, and intended to ask no more questions. 
 But Ridpath seemed to be communicative, and be- 
 gan to talk with great freedom. 
 
 " Want my story ? Don't mind tellin'. No chance 
 for us fellers that gets their lights put clean out. 
 The ticket of leave 's as good 's a leg of mutton to a 
 dead 'oss. In fact wuss. Wy, you see I 've not been 
 out three months, and the splits '11 be round to find 
 out if I 'm at the same address. And that means the 
 whole show '11 be given awy. That 's 'appened be- 
 fore. Direckly the landshark, wot as you know 's the 
 landlady, gits findin' out that you Ve been in quod 
 she gives you the key o' the street. Out you goes, 
 and that means a hempty belly. Wy, I've been
 
 98 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 showed out of three doss 'ouses all along of splits 
 comin' arter me." 
 
 Here Ridpath stopped to sigh, and a look came 
 into his face which seemed to indicate that he saw 
 his whole life spread before him as in a map with 
 " Move on ! " written up at every cross road. 
 
 " Where do you doss ? " asked Swefling. " You 're 
 not stoppin' here ? " 
 
 " No," said Ridpath, " I dosses above a grubbery 
 in Soho. Came 'ere jist for the day to speak to that 
 ole swag belly Habenichts. Orful decent ole sort, 
 though. I 'm 'is servant." 
 
 " Will you irrigate ? " asked Swefling. 
 
 " 'Ere 's 'ow," replied Ridpath, readily, and Swef- 
 ling rang the bell which Wurm answered with his 
 usual promptitude. He certainly did not deserve 
 the translated soubriquet of "Worm," which all 
 Wixians, except Herr Habenichts, bestowed upon 
 him. 
 
 " What poison will you have ? " asked Swefling. 
 
 " Scotch," said Ridpath, and Wurm was ordered 
 to bring two Scotches and a split soda. 
 
 " Put that down in the bill, Worm," said Swefling, 
 grandly, meantime jingling the contents of his right 
 trouser pocket, as if to defy mankind to say that he 
 could not pay on demand. 
 
 " Another of them blessed furreigners," remarked 
 Ridpath. " Wot 's to become of us I 'd jist like to
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 99 
 
 know? Wy can't they stay in their own countries? 
 And wot do they want 'ere ? " 
 
 " Grub," answered Swefling. 
 
 " Yes, an we wants it, too. It 's jist because 
 life 's sich a sweatin' job that the likes o' me gets 
 tripped up and lagged." 
 
 The two men touched their glasses, and when 
 Ridpath, raising his, said, " 'Ere 's into your face ! " 
 Swefling topped the good wish by replying, " I 'm 
 thar." The exchange of these salutations seemed to 
 accelerate sympathy, and Ridpath continued his story. 
 
 " You wants to know wy you 'ad to drive me to 
 'Olloway ? " he began. " I 'ad a gal. I was in the 
 fruit trade, packin' and unpackin' thousands o' boxes 
 at a big place jist outside Covent Garden. Eleven 
 shillin's a week. Starwation. Lovely gal, though. 
 Got engaged. Found my 'ands in the till one day. 
 Guv'nor a coiny cove. Well, I wanted to give the 
 gal a treat Said she would like to see the panter- 
 mine. And so, as I said, I found my 'ands in the 
 till. Fished out three quid, meanin' I swear it 
 meanin' to pay back. Orful silly, for in course it 
 was sure to be found out. Well, we goes off that 
 night and 'ad a riglar smashin' time, and a good 
 feed in a restaurant. Pantermine stunnin'. Felt 
 a big paw on me jist as we was leavin' the theayter. 
 Turns round, sees a crusher. Gal in 'ysterics. Orful 
 scene. Got six months that time, pickin' the darned
 
 100 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 fibre, makin' mail bags wot the postmen carries the 
 letters in, and knittin' stockins ! " 
 
 At this point Ridpath laughed so loudly and 
 brought his hand down on the table with such a 
 bang that the glasses clattered and jumped, and the 
 soda-water bottle began to sway from side to side, 
 leaning gracefully like the tower of Pisa until finally 
 it toppled over. 
 
 " Knittin' stockins ! " repeated Ridpath. " I al- 
 most died larfin', and jist missed losin' my marks 
 for it when they brought me the wool and the sticks 
 wot you knits with. You see, I was in 'ospital, and 
 'ad gone orful seedy. Well, I comes out at last, 
 expectin' to see the gal at the prison door. In course, 
 she was n't there, for she was married to a sodger. 
 That 's wot the sex has done for me." 
 
 " You Ve never been in again ? " said Swelling. 
 
 " My eye ! Been in 'eaps of times. ~No chance 
 for a feller. As for beggin' I despise it. Beggars 
 'ave the 'earts of chickens. Down on their knees to 
 every one, weepin' and 'owlin'. They 've no ker- 
 acter, can't fight, all sneaks, and would kiss the boots 
 of the 'tecs. You see when you 're oil yer 'inges, 
 right down in the slush, you must fight for yer grub. 
 But I 've never taken a cent from a man wot could n't 
 afford to lose it. Well, a hook 's got a queer life, 
 I'm too tall, too easily seen. The small chaps does 
 better."
 
 THE OLD DA^CE MASTER 101 
 
 " What 's your line now ? " asked Swefling. 
 
 " That 's wot I 've been waitin' for," said Ridpath. 
 " Man alive ! You don't use yer eyes. You saw me 
 last night." 
 
 " I 'm on a cab," said Swefling ; " and it 's not 
 likely I can remember all the people I see on the 
 streets." 
 
 " Wy," retorted Ridpath, " last night you drove 
 up to Jellini's, and I was standin' in that bally uni- 
 form at the door. Purty gal that ! " 
 
 " You 're at Jellini's ? " demanded Swefling, start- 
 ing and sitting up in his chair. 
 
 " I thought that would make you sit up," observed 
 Ridpath. " In course, I 'm at Jellini's, 'ead porter 
 and bottlewasher ; but you were lookin' too much 
 arter that gal in the pink cloak to see me. That 
 gal 's a duchess." 
 
 Swefling reddened, and kicked the fender as he 
 crossed his legs. 
 
 " You know," continued Ridpath, " ole Habe- 
 nichts took me on as porter. I went complete stoney* 
 and 'ad n't a feather to fly with. Was turned awy 
 from door to door, and wanted to blow my brains 
 out. I was right down in the mud honey. Sleepin' 
 in the parks and on the hembankment. Lor, the cold ! 
 I hates cold. Well, one day I was passin' down the 
 Totten'am Court Road, and I sees a ticket at Jellini's, 
 '.Wanted a Porter!' In I goes, jist desperate,
 
 102 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 straight into a room where I sees old what de ye 
 call 'im, teachin' a polka and dancin' hisself. I 
 nearly died larfin'. He told me to wait, and when 
 he came out I thought it would be better to open 
 the whole kit to 'im. And so I said I was jist out 
 of prison, and told 'im everythink. ' I vould like 
 to help you/ says he. ' I like dis frankness, and I 
 know de temptations and de struggles. Kom here, 
 vill you, and speak to me, and look me straight in 
 de face as to a broder.' 
 
 " By Jove, the ole feller 'ad me there and talked 
 to me no end jist as if he 'ad been my mother. 
 And so I made no bones, and told him straight out 
 I was a hook. Then he said, ' I haf been holped 
 by de Engleesh, and I vill help oders. You promise 
 never to do such ting again? Give me your hand, 
 my boy. I don't tink dat you haf a vicked face/ 
 So we shook a paw, and he took me on and put me 
 in the uniform. I 've got more winks in that livery 
 from gals than I 've ever 'ad all my life. Oh, it 's 
 a great place, Jellini's, mind you, I talks again' 
 furreigners, but I 'd carry ole Habenichts shoulder 
 'igh.'' 
 
 " You 'd have something to carry," observed 
 Swefling, smiling for the first time that day, and 
 attempting to shake off his sullenness. 
 
 "You bet! " said Ridpath; "but it's ole Habe- 
 nichts, a furreigner, wot's kept me alive. Wot 'a
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 103 
 
 that gal's name, by the way ? I 've seen 'er often. 
 She comes on the Tuesdays with the best pupils; 
 but I 've seen 'er, arter the class, nmnin' 'ome as 
 fast 's a rabbit. And oo 'a the great toff that went 
 off with 'er ? Where did you drive them to ? " 
 
 Ridpath winked and laughed, but not long, be- 
 cause he saw a dark scowl on Swelling's face.
 
 CHAPTER SIXTH 
 
 " CARRY me out ! Wot the blazes are you cuttin' 
 up rough for ? " inquired Ridpath, half rising from 
 his seat, because Swelling, too, had risen and was 
 looking angry. 
 
 When no answer came, and when Swelling seemed 
 to be about to quit the room in dignity and dudgeon, 
 Ridpath called him back. 
 
 " I 'm sorry. Did n't know, reely. But a guinea 
 to a gooseberry, you love that gal," said Ridpath, in 
 a tone of unmistakable friendliness. " All tight, 
 mate. Steady ! We 're feller pilgrims. Ain't I 
 been tellin' you I was in quod all along of a gal. And 
 ever since, helm 's a lee. There, shake a paw." 
 
 With a very good grace Swefling took Ridpath's 
 hand, and they sat down again opposite each other, 
 not, however, before Ridpath had put fresh coals on 
 the fire. 
 
 " And so that 's the time of day," continued Rid- 
 path, but halted again because he was uncertain 
 whether Swefling might be offended by any further 
 reference to the subject. 
 
 Swefling, however, seemed to be thinking deeply 
 
 104
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 105 
 
 on the same matter, and after a few moments of si- 
 lence began to speak. 
 
 " I '11 horsewhip him/' he said. " I know who 
 he is, wot he is, and where the toad lives. And 
 as for Dorrie, if she dares ! I '11 not say the things 
 I'll do. What would you think if a gal you was 
 drivin' in a 'ansom shook 'ands with you through 
 the trap. Wy, ain't that a sign ? Well, I 've allus 
 loved 'er and been wytin' for that there sign. On 
 the 'ead of it, wot does I go and do, but buys a 
 ruby ring just to be prepared, and to give it 'ex 
 as I was drivin' 'er 'ome. But that toad and wiper 
 Marduke for I 'card Dorrie say the name to Mr. 
 Larkin in the yard went 'ome with 'er in the 
 cab, me drivin' 'em both. If I 'ad 'ad a pistol I 
 would 'ave shot 'im through the trap! But I gave 
 it 'im, though, before 'is own door. I flung the fare 
 in 's face, the whole shoot, and began on 'im with 
 my whip, but that 's not arf what 'e '11 get yet, 
 notarf!" 
 
 " Let 's see the ring," said Ridpath, moved per- 
 haps by a sudden recurrent instinct in other people's 
 property, especially jewellery. 
 
 Swelling took his precious bijou out of his waist- 
 coat pocket, and handed it to his new singular 
 acquaintance. 
 
 " Not rubies," said Ridpath, after a critical ex- 
 amination. " They 're garnets."
 
 106 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " Shoot that ! " exclaimed Swelling, offended. 
 " What d' you know about it ? What are you talkin' 
 about ? " 
 
 " Any'ow," replied Ridpath, pitying the cabman's 
 ignorance, but unwilling to contradict him, " it 's too 
 good for 'er." 
 
 "What right have you to say so?" demanded 
 Swefling, taking back the ring. 
 
 " None," said Ridpath, meekly ; " but tell a feller 
 this. Did she ever make love to you ? " 
 
 " What would she shove her darned pretty little 
 fingers through the cab-roof for ? " asked Swefling, 
 in triumph. 
 
 " That 's not what they call hevidence," Ridpath 
 explained. " If ev'ry cabby s'posed ev'ry lydy wot 
 shoved 'er darned purty little fingers through his 
 cab-roof was in love with 'im, wy, cabs would be 
 riglar matrimony boxes." 
 
 Swefling looked dejected. 
 
 " Look 'ere," continued Ridpath, " I 've got the 
 trick. I 'm at Jellini's, and sees wot 's a goin' on. 
 Man alive, I '11 do the 'tec for you. I '11 let you 
 know as 'ow the wind 's blowin', and if that 'ere 
 toff ever comes again " 
 
 " Right ! " said Swefling. " Roast him brown. 
 Follow him like a split. If I gets him I '11 knock 
 him into horse nails. I'd like to yoke him to the 
 cab and make him go hell for leather till he dropped."
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 107, 
 
 And then Swefling smacked his knee with such 
 force that he made his skin tingle. 
 
 " Where did you drive them to last night ? Wot 
 perticler corner of the flesh market does that sweet 
 bit o' muslin of yourn, that little article of virtue, 
 belong to ? " asked Ridpath, with a leer and a wink. 
 
 But Swefling rose suddenly, as if he had been 
 stung by a dragon-fly, and he seized the poker and 
 brandished it. 
 
 " Wy, do you actually insiniwate ? " he cried. 
 
 But at this moment Herr Habenichts re-entered. 
 When he saw Swefling advancing with uplifted poker 
 towards the middle of the room, as if to attack him, 
 he ejaculated, " Murder ! Was fur ein kerl ! " and re- 
 treated a few paces. Ridpath, however, rose and ran 
 to the door and brought Herr Habenichts back, assur- 
 ing him that there was no danger and that Mr. Swef- 
 ling was only practicing fencing. WTiereupon Herr 
 Habenichts, all smiles and with rosy face, apologised, 
 took up the tongs, and said that he would be highly 
 pleased to go through some of the main movements. 
 And so before Swefling could properly realise the sit- 
 uation he saw the tongs descending upon his head, and 
 was compelled to attempt to parry the blow. When 
 Herr Habenichts was a student at Vienna, and later a 
 lieutenant in the Army, he acquired a great reputa- 
 tion as a swordsman, and Swefling soon discovered 
 that he was face to face with a formidable opponent,
 
 108 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 whose quick thrusts were actually dangerous. Herr 
 Habenichts' method of longeing and recovering, and 
 his parades, quarte, tierce, circle, octave, prime, and 
 quinte brought upon his adversary the fear of im- 
 minent mutilation. At last Swefling called for quar- 
 ter, and confessed that he had never fenced in his life. 
 
 " Den I vill teach you," said Herr Habenichts. 
 
 Without more ado he gave his new pupil a lesson 
 in the first positions, and, after he had showed him 
 how to defend his head, his breast, his shoulders, 
 and the right side and the left side of his body, he 
 explained, tongs in hand, the principles of making the 
 assault or playing loose, quarte, and tierce. When 
 a little out of breath Herr Habenichts paused to 
 state his opinion that he had always found fencing 
 to be not only an excellent physical but also a very 
 valuable mental and moral discipline, teaching alert- 
 ness, patience, and good temper. In fact, he was 
 already launched upon a lecture while the two men 
 listened to his description of life as a great fencing 
 match in which, no matter what the issue, the com- 
 batants should always shake hands at the close. 
 True to his own precept he at once shook hands with 
 Swefling, and said that he felt as if he had made 
 a new friend. And so in good humour all three sat 
 down beside the fire. 
 
 " Suck some corn juice ? " asked Swefling, while 
 Herr Habenichts stared wide-eyed and said that he 
 did n't understand.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 109 
 
 " 'E 's askin' you to go and see the baby, sir," 
 said Ridpath. 
 
 "Debaby? Vat baby?" 
 
 " That 's the lingo for hinvitin' you to 'ave a 
 drink," Ridpath explained. 
 
 " Vith pleasure," replied Herr Habenichts, and 
 bowed towards the cabman, while Ridpath rang the 
 bell 
 
 When Wurm returned with the drinks, he looked 
 hard at Herr Habenichts as if astonished to find 
 a fellow countryman indulging in " visky." Swef- 
 ling, again in a lordly way, ordered the drinks to 
 be put in his bill. The three men then settled down 
 as if determined to enjoy each other's company. 
 For, except at Jellini's, Herr Habenichts did not 
 treat Ridpath as a servant. It was one of his max- 
 ims that in order really to get to know people you 
 must treat them as equals. 
 
 " Laugh vile it is day," said Herr Habenichts, 
 raising his glass and clinking it first against Swef- 
 ling's and then against the porter's, " vor de night 
 cometh ven no man can laugh." 
 
 " Mr. Swefling," observed Ridpath, while Swefling 
 signalled to him to desist, " 'as n't been in much of 
 a larfin* mood. All square, mate. Let me flow. 
 It 's this, Mr. Habenichts. That young gal wot was 
 dancin' last night with the toff " 
 
 " Vith Mr. Marduke ? " interposed Herr Habe-
 
 110 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 nichts, while the clouds gathered again on the cab- 
 man's face. 
 
 " Yes. Well, don't yer know, that gal 'a Mr. 
 Swefling's gal, and there 's goin' to be a row. Won't 
 yer kick 'im out the next time he turns up at Jel- 
 lini's ? " suggested Ridpath. 
 
 " Kick him out ? " repeated Herr Habenichts, 
 raising his stout little hands. " Tim Gottes Willen ! 
 Kick avay de son of my patron. Anyting possible 
 but dat." 
 
 Swefling's eyes were fixed and glaring on Herr 
 Habenichts, who, when he turned and saw them, gave 
 a start. 
 
 " Oh, but I don't mean to say, Mr. Svevling, dat 
 I approve altogeder. Sir Marduke is in de most 
 tropical of de tempers. But dat young Marduke 
 vould never marry Miss Larkin." 
 
 " It would be sich a lark," interposed Ridpath. 
 
 " Vat ? " said Herr Habenichts. " I don't onder- 
 stand. De young man mean noting at all. Just de 
 generous impulse of de moment to show dat he had 
 no pride, and dat he admired de sveet Engleesh girl." 
 
 Again Swefling's eyes were fixed on the philos- 
 opher. 
 
 " I see dat you suffer. Oh, damn ! But it vill 
 come to noting. De lady is your lady and vill be 
 true to you. Not ? But yes. I trink to you both," 
 said Herr Habenichts, beaming and raising his glass.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 111 
 
 Swefling now smiled sadly, thanked Herr Habe- 
 nichts, and once more took the hand which was out- 
 stretched to him. 
 
 " Yes, yes. I alvays say dat de best vay to treat 
 vith people is vith de kindness, nations and individ- 
 uals, just de same." 
 
 " Mr. Swefling is goin' to roast Marduke alive," 
 said Ridpath, to the believer in arbitration. " Don't 
 you see 'e 's afraid that that young ape 's goin' to 
 mismarry the gal make 'asty puddin's ? " 
 
 "I not onderstand," replied Herr Habenichts. 
 " Vot haf puddin's to do vith it ? But I know dat 
 de Marduke vamily is de most honourable in London. 
 Vere vould I be vithout Sir Marduke ? He save me 
 vrom de abyss ! " 
 
 " Any'ow," remarked Ridpath, " we 're goin' to 
 keep our weather eye lifted." 
 
 He gave a friendly nod to Swefling, who appeared 
 to be struggling with his own gloomy thoughts. But 
 there was something so genial in Herr Habenichts 
 that Swefling felt drawn towards the mild-eyed el- 
 derly man with the paternal air. And, moreover, 
 Herr Habenichts' position as Dorrie's teacher seemed 
 to promise that his advice would prove to be valuable 
 in the present crisis of Mr. Swefling's affections. 
 Ridpath suggested that two letters should be written 
 immediately, one to Marduke to threaten his life, 
 and the other to Miss Dorothy Larkin to demand a
 
 112 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 clear statement of her exact feelings and intentions. 
 Herr Habenichts shook his head, and told Swefling 
 to leave the matter to him because he felt certain 
 that he would succeed in preventing any possible 
 catastrophe. Meanwhile Ridpath, having seized a 
 sheet of Mrs. Wix's note-paper and an old rusty pen 
 which was lying across a rustier inkpot, began with 
 apparently great labour to write a letter. 
 
 " Are you married, Herr Habenichts ? " asked 
 Swefling. 
 
 " No," said Herr Habenichts, gravely ; " but I 
 haf written a book about love." 
 
 " Love-letters, Herr Habenichts ? " 
 
 " Ah, dat too ! " replied the philosopher in a way 
 which showed that ancient memories were being 
 stirred. " I vill tell you ven ve know each oder 
 better. But you haf not got my name right. It is 
 Habieneechts, and de ch is like de ch in Scotch 
 loch. Try again." 
 
 " Habieneechts," said Swefling. 
 
 " Dat 's better. You are smart. Veil, my name 
 means dat * I haf got noting.' I am proud of it ; 
 noting but my good temper! Oh, dat makes you so 
 rich! Ah, I began by tinking I vould be a great 
 man and fill Europe vith my name. And now, I 'm 
 just a poor dance master! It matters noting. Vat 
 says Epictetus ? " 
 
 "Who?" asked Swefling.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 113 
 
 " An old Greek dat I love. He says dat de power 
 and de greatness and de serenities and de beauties and 
 de holinesses are all inside of us, and dat de vorld 
 outside is noting. Now, den, be a man, Mr. Svevling. 
 Corage! I vill tell her your great love vor her. I 
 vill speak to Dorrie. I vill tell her dat she, my best 
 and dear dancer, must never make a mauvais pas!" 
 
 Swening, although bewildered, felt inclined to rise 
 and embrace Herr Habenichts. 
 
 " You will go to the yard ? " he asked in excite- 
 ment 
 
 " Most certainly I go," replied Herr Habenichts. 
 
 " I fetch my cab at eight o'clock in the morning," 
 said the cabman. " I '11 hang about for you." 
 
 " I vill be there noon," said Herr Habenichts ; 
 " but I vill not haf you there. Vetch your cab, do 
 your day's vork, and say noting. I vill see you here 
 in de evening. I vill sit up in dis room vor you." 
 
 " Herr Habenichts," said Swefling, " I '11 drive you 
 round Hyde Park in a carriage and pair." 
 
 " Tank you, mein Kind," responded the philoso- 
 pher. " Aber no need. Let me not deceive you. 
 It is not only becose of you dat I do dis. I am avraid 
 of Sir Marduke ! Oh, he is in a tempest ! " 
 
 At this point Ridpath announced that he had 
 written a letter, and asked permission to read it. 
 
 "Go on," said Swefling; and Ridpath read the 
 following:
 
 114 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " To Montague Marduke, Esq. 
 
 " BLUE-FACED APE, 
 
 " I don't b'lieve you 're wortk shakin' a 
 stick at, but any 'ow this is to tell yer to go to blazes. 
 I takes my affidavy that of all the bad heggs you 're 
 the rottenest. Shut up ! Hands off ! or I '11 take the 
 change out of yer and ampertate yer chump. The 
 next time you comes to Jellini's or Larkin's yard 
 there '11 be sich a lark and a chucker-out wot '11 chuck 
 yer to a ploice wot ain't so werry cold. Now, take 
 that, and no gammon. Don't go large any more, but 
 sing small. 
 
 " Your HENEMY." 
 
 While those sentiments and sentences were vigor- 
 ously applauded by Mr. Richard Swefling, they were 
 denounced by Herr Hebenichts, who rose excitedly 
 and declared that he washed his hands of the whole 
 business. He pointed out with much vigour that 
 such inhuman thoughts were wholly alien to his prin- 
 ciples of universal benignity, and that although God 
 forbid that he would ever shrink to meet an enemy, 
 yet God also forbid that he would fail to meet that 
 enemy with proper courtesy. 
 
 " Blue-faced ape ! Dat handsome young man ! " 
 he exclaimed, looking very angrily at Ridpath. " I 
 von't haf it! It is verboten! I vorbid it. Tear it
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 115 
 
 up and put it in de flames dis minute, Ridpath, or 
 I discharge you." 
 
 Crestfallen, Ridpath tore his masterpiece into mor- 
 sels which he dropped into the fire. Nevertheless 
 he rewrote his letter from memory, and, unknown to 
 Herr Habenichts, it was duly delivered by the post- 
 man at Portland Place on Monday morning, placed 
 on a silver tray, and presented by Riggs to Mr. Monty 
 Marduke. Herr Habenichts, not dreaming of such 
 treachery, turned to Swefling and told him that he 
 would still keep his promise and go on an embassy to 
 Larkin's yard. Then a dreadful noise was heard in 
 the hotel like the beating of tomtoms. But it was 
 only Wurms going along the passages with his gong 
 to announce the Sunday supper. Ridpath took his 
 leave after he had received some instructions regard- 
 ing the proper heating of the rooms at Jellini's for 
 the next evening's classes. 
 
 " Kom," said Herr Habenichts, turning to Swef- 
 ling, " let us go in to supper. I am hongry."
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTH 
 
 EABLY rising was the rule in Larkin's yard, and long 
 before the eight-o'clock postman arrived, Vardy, the 
 stable-boy, and old Tom Ruffin, the one-eyed stable- 
 man, had rubbed down four horses that had been 
 doing night work. Besides, Swelling's cab and the 
 other day cabs had to be wheeled out from the coach- 
 houses to be cleaned, much harness had to be rubbed 
 and polished, bedding had to be cleared, hay and 
 straw had to be brought down from the loft, and oats 
 had to be measured from the bins. For Sam Larkin 
 was difficult to please, and he believed that only by 
 keeping his horses and his cabs in good order could 
 he compete against the motors. He had never lost 
 the characteristics of a farmer. His cab-yard, al- 
 though in the heart of London, had rather the ap- 
 pearance of a farm-yard, and he had the farmer's 
 pride in a neat gig. As Dorrie peered through the 
 curtains of her bedroom window she observed Vardy 
 coming out of one of the stables carrying Audacity's 
 nose-bag, which he strapped below the driver's seat. 
 She could also see across the neighbouring roofs the 
 
 tower of St. Pancras' Church, and the hands of the 
 
 116
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 117 
 
 clock were pointing five minutes to eight. As 
 the hour struck Swelling walked into the yard. Au- 
 dacity was already yoked and waiting for him, and 
 was pawing the ground and sniffing the keen air of 
 that January Monday, and snorting and remember- 
 ing just such a hunting morning on the downlands 
 long ago. Swefling gave him a kiss on the soft, 
 silky nose, and then a pat on the neck, and after he 
 had nodded to Vardy he glanced up at the window, 
 but he saw nothing except the muslin, curtains. 
 Dorrie, however, was able to detect a worried and 
 anxious expression on his face. He was taking 
 the tall whip from Vardy, who seemed to be chaffing 
 him, for Vardy had already suspected that his 
 swaggering hero was in love with the governor's 
 daughter. And his quick eyes had not missed the 
 furtive upward glance at the window. 
 
 " I s'pose," he said, with a malicious twinkling 
 of his eyes, " you Ve got 'er photigraph under yer 
 shirt, next yer buzzum ? " 
 
 He gave a loud foolish laugh, and then Swefling, 
 who was sitting on the dicky, made a cut at him with 
 the long whip which sent him running to the stable 
 door. After another glance at the curtained window, 
 our sad Romeo, while the words " Next yer buz- 
 zum ! " were again shouted after him, drove through 
 the gate at a trot 
 
 Dorrie had been aware during some months that
 
 118 THE OLD DANCE MASTEE 
 
 Swelling was attempting to win her favour. But 
 lest any one blame her, it should be announced at 
 once that although she had a friendly regard for him 
 she had never entertained any other feeling. That 
 episode of the hands in the cab was perhaps inju- 
 dicious, and it was certainly unfortunate, but it was 
 meant only as an act of sympathy and gratitude, and 
 nothing more. Swefling's coming troubles were all 
 of his own creation. Nevertheless, Dorrie was sorry 
 for him, and felt that perhaps she had made a 
 mistake. It was usual for her to come down into 
 the yard every morning about a quarter before eight 
 to scatter Indian corn among the hens. And then 
 she always patted Audacity while she had a talk with 
 Swefling. Her absence on the present occasion 
 pained her admirer and increased his suspicions, 
 and had it not been for Vardy he would have lingered 
 in the yard. The fact was, however, that, even 
 although Dorrie had been so disposed, she could not 
 have come down into the yard, because she was 
 locked in her room, and Mr. Larkin had the key in 
 his pocket. The hens, accompanied by a handsome 
 old white cock, with a very crimson comb, grouped 
 themselves about the entrance door in expectation of 
 seeing Dorrie and her plate of corn. The old cock 
 crowed diligently, as if to call her down, and the hens 
 "tuked-tuked" their hardest, but at last they went off 
 one by one to pick up on their own account any grains
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 119 
 
 which had dropped from Audacity's nose-bag. The 
 milk-cans were standing on the step, and the post- 
 man had come in with two letters, which he dropped 
 into the letter-box, and the morning newspaper was 
 lying flapping against the door. But the household 
 seemed to have overslept themselves, and now and 
 again Vardy, in the midst of scrubbing, and hosing, 
 and hissing, looked at the windows, the blinds of 
 which were still drawn down. 
 
 The winter morning fog had already disappeared, 
 and in the clear January sunlight the white-washed 
 walls of the old low-built house which formed a right 
 angle with the stables were glinting like snow. It 
 was the cleanest cab-yard in London, for Sam Larkin 
 had brought to its management habits which he had 
 formed in the country. The place still retained an 
 old-fashioned look amid its modern surroundings. 
 Till about the middle of the nineteenth century it 
 had been a well-known inn which had formed a con- 
 venient pull-up for carriers and carters between, 
 London and the northern villages. But the day was 
 long past when from the roof windows nothing but 
 fields could be seen stretching between Bloomsbury 
 and Hampstead. That was years and years before 
 a railway whistle had been heard in Euston and St. 
 Pancras. Somewhere in the lumber-room there was 
 a sign-board with Ye Olde Inn painted upon it in 
 faded blue letters on a white ground, and in the
 
 120 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 parlour immediately above the mahogany sideboard 
 on which Mrs. Bleeks's bowl of goldfish stood there 
 was an oil painting of the inn sign a bunch of 
 purple grapes with a foaming goblet. For " The 
 Tankard " had been the inn's name. Through its 
 low doorway there had passed many a gay postilion, 
 many a post-boy, many a gentleman in ruffles and 
 breeches and full-bottomed wig, and many a lady in 
 furbelow. And many a coach-and-six had put up in 
 the yard. The old tap-room which was now Sam 
 Larkin's kitchen had heard the carousal which 
 greeted the news of Blenheim, Malplaquet, and 
 Waterloo, while the horses were munching oats and 
 hay at war prices in the stables. In the house the 
 passages were long and narrow, and the ceilings were 
 low, and much of the furniture, together with one or 
 two old eight-day clocks which Sam Larkin had taken 
 over with his long lease, dated from the middle of the 
 eighteenth century. Once inside the yard gate it was 
 difficult to believe that the place was ringed round 
 by dingy streets. But the hum of wheels from the 
 Euston Road, and the noise of engines and trains 
 being shunted on the lines of one of the great railway 
 termini betrayed the traffic of London. A high wall, 
 however, shut the yard off from the street, and the 
 roar of the city was heard far away like the sound 
 of eddies in the ocean. Some of the old bushes were 
 still growing out of the flower-beds, and leaning
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 121 
 
 against the house wall, and every June a climbing 
 rose with a somewhat dusty, careworn face peeped 
 into Dome's window. The loads of hay and straw 
 and the sacks of corn for cab horses are always 
 hungry, and can eat eighteen or twenty pounds of oats 
 every day which arrived punctually every month ; 
 the horses drinking at the trough, or rattling their 
 halters in the stalls ; the flock of pigeons fluttering on 
 the roofs; and the fowls stalking about the yard, 
 strengthened the illusion of any visitor that he had 
 suddenly found himself in a farm in the core of 
 London. 
 
 Hitherto only one thing had been necessary to make 
 Dorothy happy, and that was the removal of her 
 aunts, whose presence she loathed. She had for Sam 
 Larkin a strong affection, although it must be ad- 
 mitted that her surroundings were daily becoming 
 more repellent. The common ideals and coarse ways 
 with which she was too familiar were making restless 
 a girl in whom the artistic sense was inborn. For 
 nature makes strange mistakes, and sometimes places 
 a coronet on a head that should wear a coster's cap, 
 and a coster's cap on a head that might be worthy of 
 a coronet. Vague longings for a larger world had 
 begun to disturb Dorothy, whose present horizon 
 seemed pitiably foreshortened and dull. To be told 
 when she was reading books or studying pictures that 
 she was only giving herself airs as well as wasting
 
 122 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 time, increased her thirst and hunger for a new life. 
 And yet she was deeply wounded by the manner in 
 which Mrs. Bleeks and Mrs. Muzzey talked about her 
 mother, of whom she had a miniature portrait fixed 
 in a gold locket which she always wore. She gazed 
 at the sad gentle face, and wondered how it was pos- 
 sible for any one to speak unkindly of it. But even 
 Sam's brow sometimes became clouded at the mention 
 of his wife's name, and he never encouraged Dorothy 
 when she asked questions about the dead Louise. 
 Gradually the truth broke upon the girl that the mar- 
 riage had been unhappy, while the insinuations of 
 Mrs. Bleeks and Mrs. Muzzey deepened the impres- 
 sion. Dorothy knew that she resembled her mother, 
 and that this hereditary beauty was resented by the 
 fierce old women. When, in order to protect her 
 hands from the effects of coarse housework, she wore 
 gloves, she was compelled to endure the titterings of 
 her aunts. Yet she was growing independent of 
 them. Twice a year Sam Larkin handed her fifty 
 pounds, part of which sum she spent on education, 
 and part too, it must be confessed, on pretty dresses 
 and a little jewellery, a fact which increased the envy 
 of Mrs. Bleeks. More than once when Larkin was 
 grumbling about bad times, and was threatening to 
 leave the cab-yard for ever, Dorothy refused to accept 
 the half-yearly payment. Larkin, however, hinted 
 that it was not his to withhold, and that it had been
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 123 
 
 bequeathed by Mrs. Larkin to her daughter. When 
 Dorothy questioned him further, he merely said that 
 she would touch the capital when she was of age and 
 would then know everything. That would be in four 
 years. Meantime it was only her affection for Sam 
 Larkin which caused her to remain in a house whose 
 other inmates she feared. 
 
 Since Saturday night the Larkin menage had been 
 in a state of great commotion owing to the sudden 
 appearance of Mr. Montague Marduke as an escort 
 from Jellini's. The insolent suggestions of Mrs. 
 Muzzey and Mrs. Bleeks might have been heard with 
 contempt. It was not until Sam Larkin began to up- 
 braid his daughter and to threaten to send her packing 
 into the country, that Dorrie wept. At breakfast on 
 Monday morning the three set upon her again, and 
 the little parlour became an animated theatre. Sam 
 Larkin sat scowling, and Dorothy scarcely ventured 
 to meet his angry eyes. In a loud voice Mrs. Bleeks 
 was declaring that because of the wickedness and bad 
 habits of her so-called niece she had lost half her sleep, 
 and had had dreadful dreams. She had donned her 
 head-bandage as a signal of what she had suffered, 
 but this time it was the left eye which was covered, 
 while the knots of the handkerchief stood upright 
 again like rabbits' ears. Mrs. Muzzey likewise com- 
 plained of pains in the head and the feet, and when 
 Dorrie ventured to suggest that it was rheumatism,
 
 124 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 Mrs. Muzzey turned upon her and exclaimed, " Oh 
 no, but it 's you, you nasty wretch ! " Dorothy 
 was pouring out the tea, when suddenly in a fit of 
 nervousness she allowed the heavy stone teapot to fall 
 among the cups and saucers which were forthwith 
 shattered, and the sugar bowl was filled with a brown 
 fluid. Sam Larkin, with an oath, pushed himself 
 away from the table, and said in a roaring and over- 
 whelming voice, " You '11 pay for it," while Mrs. 
 Muzzey seized the teapot and began to nurse its 
 broken nose. Dorothy tremblingly gathered up the 
 fragments of crockery, attempted to dry the table- 
 cloth and drain the sugar bowl, and then brought 
 out fresh cups from the sideboard. Meantime 
 Mrs. Bleeks pursed her lips with satisfaction, and 
 then opened them to deliver her opinion on the 
 situation. 
 
 " Oh, it 's stunnin' flash to dress 'erself up like a 
 painted canary in 'aypenny feathers," she said, " and 
 be driv about by a young gent wot 's agoin' to be a 
 bar'net, but some folks goes so large that they does n't 
 know the wy to 'andle a teapot." 
 
 " You 're right," remarked Sam Larkin, while 
 Dorothy gave him one imploring, reproachful glance. 
 
 " Me and Mary Anne 's been tellin' it to you all 
 the time, Sam," said Mrs. Muzzey, allowing the tea 
 to gush and dribble from the broken teapot. 
 
 " I could n't refuse the gentleman," pleaded Dor-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 125 
 
 rie, attempting to defend herself, but breaking into 
 sobs. 
 
 " And why could n't you ? " demanded Larkin, in 
 a menacing voice. "I'd trust you now just as far 
 as I could fling a bull by the tail." 
 
 " That 's it, Sam," observed Mrs. Bleeks, approv- 
 ingly. " As if we all ain't 'ad our temptations. I 'm 
 a respeckable woman, and I does n't like sittin' at the 
 same table. It 's dreadful nasty behavin' in sich a wy. 
 The yardmen are larfin' at 'er and askin' if Swefling 's 
 a fancy man wot brings bad keracters to Sam's 'ouse. 
 'Ow 's we to know where they was before they comes 
 in 'ere?" 
 
 "Ask Swefling," exclaimed Dorrie, wild with in- 
 dignation, while her eyes flamed behind her tears, 
 " and he '11 say we came straight from Jellini's." 
 
 " Oh, 'e '11 say it," jeered Mrs. Bleeks, " in course 
 'e will. Wot a himage you 're makin' of yourself ! 
 It 's the daringest thing I 've ever heered on. Sar- 
 tinly, I agrees with wot you was sayin' last night, 
 Liza. She should be made to yarn 'er grub. She 's 
 a disgrace to 'er sex, a-worritin' poor 'Sam in sich a 
 wy. Reel crull. I would n't give a toss of sprats or 
 a shant of gatter for 'er. Lor' love you, Sam dear, 
 don't be a-worritin' of yerself . Wot 's she to you ? 
 It's exterornary wot some pirsons thinks of their- 
 selves. Sich an idear! She thinks that a piece of 
 square-rigged gentry is goin' to marry 'er. Oh my
 
 126 THE OLD DANCE MASTEK 
 
 daylights! I likes that! For if 'e's not goin' to 
 marry 'er, wot 's he goin' to do ? Oh, the lime twigs 
 for the bird! Make a dress lodger of 'er, eh? Jist 
 able to pay doss money and go abaht like a painted 
 canary ? You '11 be good game for the C. I. D. 
 Was n't I right, Sam ? It 's in the blood, and it 's 
 arter 'er mother she takes." 
 
 During this speech Mrs. Bleeks kept her eye fixed 
 upon Dorothy, and now and again she raised her 
 skinny forefinger and shook it at her niece. Sam 
 Larkin, however, had become irritated, and he rose 
 hastily from the table, and ordered Dorothy to follow 
 him upstairs. Glad to escape from the two women, 
 she walked quickly out of the room, determined to 
 explain everything to her father. But when Larkin 
 had reached the top of the stairs, he merely opened 
 the door of Dorrie's bedroom, pushed her inside and 
 said 
 
 " It 's not like my Dorrie at all, at all," and then 
 locked the door on the outside. 
 
 He and Mrs. Muzzey were going to Essex that 
 day, so that it was Mrs. Bleeks who was left in charge 
 of the key and the prisoner. Dorrie spent the fore- 
 noon sitting at her window and looking down on 
 the yard through the muslin curtains. Her eyes were 
 wet and bloodshot, and yet she was not wholly mis- 
 erable. She began to think of Marduke, and the 
 spell of his fascination came over her again. She-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 127 
 
 thought that he looked like a soldier, and she re- 
 peated two lines which had pleased her, and haunted 
 her and which she had found in a poem 
 
 "Thy voice is heard thro' rolling drums, 
 That beat to battle where he stands." 
 
 She wondered if she would ever see him again. 
 She looked across the black roofs of London, and 
 saw that it was exactly one o'clock by St. Pancras' 
 Church. Then she rose with a start, for, to her sur- 
 prise, she observed Herr Habenichts walking into 
 the yard. According to his promise to Swefling, he 
 was to be there at the stroke of noon, but the reason 
 of his delay will be explained in the next chapter.
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTH 
 
 IT is nearly certain that if Monty Marduke had 
 gone to the opera with Arabella, Duchess of Berk- 
 shire, he would not have met Dorothy Larkin, and 
 that consequently the fortunes and the misfortunes 
 of many persons in this history would have been 
 very different. But the events which await narration 
 are too numerous, and arrive in too fast pell-mell 
 to allow time to pause in order to moralise concerning 
 chance and change. Therefore the telephone bell at 
 Portland Place will continue to ring and the Dow- 
 ager will continue to rage at the other end of the 
 wire, but we shall listen to neither of them. Besides, 
 the consternation of certain London hostesses, who 
 had invited Mr. Monty Marduke to divers luncheons, 
 dinners, and balls, at which marriageable daugh- 
 ters were to be paraded, must be simply ignored 
 as he ignored it. For we are compelled to follow 
 his quick steps into the far humbler quarters in 
 which his interest and his excitement were now 
 centred. 
 
 " Who is consistent, you or I ? " he asked his 
 father, in a somewhat abrupt and unfilial tone and 
 
 128
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 129 
 
 with a frown which was unusual on so pleasant a 
 face. 
 
 Twenty-four hours of silence had raged between 
 them, and matters had reached such a disagreeable 
 pass that even Minnie Marduke now passed her 
 brother on the staircase without a word or a look of 
 recognition. When he entered a room she left it 
 as if to inform him that his company contaminated 
 her, and, if he happened to ask for an explanation, 
 she refused to answer him. The Marduke pride or 
 vanity had been thoroughly roused, and no such 
 crisis had ever occurred in the family history. Sir 
 John secretly trusted, however, that the unfortunate 
 incident at Jellini's would be forgotten, and that his 
 son would speedily regain common sense. Meantime, 
 it was necessary to display the paternal disapproval 
 of the misdemeanour by an attitude of coldness and 
 even contempt. It was hoped that the youth would 
 thus be compelled to see that he had made a fool of 
 himself. There was a terrible unrest in the house- 
 hold, and Sir John and Minnie had passed a sleepless 
 night, whereas, in the case of Monty, there had been 
 the sound of castanets in his dreams. It was now 
 Sunday evening, but the experience at breakfast and 
 luncheon had been so intolerable, that the youth 
 decided to dine at his club, where, if he spoke to 
 a friend, he could at least count on a response. But 
 before he went out of the house he was suddenly
 
 130 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 tempted to demand an apology from his father. Sir 
 John stared at him icily for a few moments, and 
 then Monty laughed in a bitter way. 
 
 " Where," he asked, " is your splendid levelling 
 doctrine now ? " 
 
 " I level up," retorted Sir John. 
 
 " Your hope that the day will come when the 
 barricades between the classes will be thrown down? 
 Your belief in the essential brotherhood of rich and 
 poor? Your pity for the slaves of industry? As a 
 matter of fact is not Mr. Larkin, who belongs to 
 the old yeoman class he 's an Essex farmer, a land- 
 owner, if that pleases you better, for he owns a free- 
 hold well, I say, is he not a better man than that 
 great-great-grandfather of yours who owned slaves 
 and slave ships, as you were telling me last night, 
 and who made the fortune of which you are 
 ashamed ? " 
 
 " Until you calm yourself, I will not argue with 
 you. I will not even speak to you," replied Sir John 
 stiffly, and contemptuously, although his heart was 
 wrung. 
 
 It so happened that last week's newspapers had 
 been full of reports of a divorce case from which, 
 according to the judge's summing up, the chief lesson 
 to be learned was the folly of marriage between 
 persons belonging to different social levels. Sir John 
 had drawn a thick blue pencil down the two sides
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 131 
 
 of a leading article in the Times, in which the judge's 
 comments were approved. 
 
 "Read that," he said, handing the newspaper to 
 his son. 
 
 But Monty was in no mood to be instructed and 
 dragooned, and, after a glance at a few sentences 
 opposite which the blue marks were specially violent, 
 he threw the newspaper aside. 
 
 " At the first encounter with a real opportunity of 
 proving the sincerity of your great theories," he said, 
 " they break down." 
 
 Sir John winced, for the words stung him, and 
 he sat perturbed under the uneasy suspicion that 
 they were true, and that the protestations of a life- 
 time had suddenly been made to appear in a gro- 
 tesque light. 
 
 " How often have you told us that almost all the 
 great men, the leaders in everything, came originally 
 out of the people. Just the other day you were 
 saying that Turner's father was a barber, and that 
 Beethoven's grandfather on his mother's side was a 
 cook, and that the Emperor Basil, was it, was a 
 groom," continued Monty, as if attempting to parry 
 by anticipation the sneers that awaited him. 
 
 " Be reasonable," said Sir John. " There is no 
 relevancy in what you are saying, none at all. We 
 are talking about a marriage between a man of edu- 
 cation and a certain social position, and a girl of a
 
 132 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 very humble rank. And I say that, sooner or later, 
 only unhappiness can result from such a union. It 
 is the commonplace, threadbare theme of novelists." 
 
 " Lady Hamilton was a kitchen-maid," said Monty. 
 
 " You have chosen a very unfortunate instance," 
 quickly replied his father. " She made havoc of 
 the lives, she brought trouble into the lives of at least 
 two men, and she died in squalor." 
 
 "Miss Larkin is a girl " 
 
 "What do you know about her?" demanded the 
 baronet, turning fiercely upon his son. " You are a 
 fool ! Don't dare mention her name ! " 
 
 " Miss Larkin," repeated Monty, defiantly yet 
 quietly, " is a girl of great accomplishments. She 
 is an artist. She is, I should think, infinitely more 
 cultured than half the girls with whom I have danced 
 in London drawing-rooms. She does n't play bridge, 
 perhaps, but she reads books and studies pictures." 
 
 " I warn you, before it is too late ! " said Sir John, 
 in the sternest voice which Monty had ever heard 
 him use. " Don't make a fool of yourself, and your 
 sister, and of me." 
 
 " Supposing you gave away all your money, we 
 would be a great deal poorer than Mr. Larkin," con- 
 tinued Monty. "Why, you could hardly afford to 
 drive about in one of his cabs. It is money that 
 makes leisure and culture, and all the rest of it 
 possible." 
 
 "Do I deny it?" broke in Sir John.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 133 
 
 " If you gave all the money away as you said you 
 should, since it was ill-gotten, you and Minnie and 
 I would probably sink down near the poverty line. 
 Well, give it away. I am going to marry that girl, 
 and we '11 start life together." 
 
 Sir John rose, as if about to quit the room, but 
 his son preceded him, and quitted not only the room, 
 but the house, and went to dine at his Military 
 Club in Piccadilly. 
 
 Now, on Monday morning, exactly at a quarter 
 past nine o'clock, while Herr Habenichts, who was 
 dressed in a faded purple dressing-gown, fastened by 
 a cincture of tasselled cords round his ample waist, 
 was drinking in his own room a cup - of Mrs. Wix's 
 coffee, and reading " Les Heures Claires," a thump 
 came to the door. After permission was granted 
 Wurm entered with a telegram. A reply was paid. 
 
 " Vat can it be ? " exclaimed Herr Habenichts, 
 tearing open the brick-coloured envelope, and finding 
 that the telegram contained a request that he would 
 present himself at Portland Place at noon. 
 
 It was signed " Marduke," and since the recipient 
 guessed that it was from the baronet, he wrote with 
 some trepidation an affirmative reply, and handed the 
 form to Wurm. 
 
 " Ja ! " he said, softly to himself, as he buttered 
 a piece of toast. " Das Shicksal ! " 
 
 After he had breakfasted, he took his stick and 
 tapped against the wall which separated his bedroom
 
 134 THE OLD DANCE MASTEK 
 
 from Swefling's. But he was scarcely surprised at 
 no response, because lie knew that Swelling usually 
 left Wix's before eight o'clock. It would now be 
 impossible to keep the promise made to the cabman 
 the previous evening, because between ten and noon, 
 Herr Habenichts gave lessons at Jellini's. While 
 he was dressing he decided, therefore, to go to Port- 
 land Place immediately after the lessons were over, 
 and to make the promised visit to Larkin's yard on 
 the way home. 
 
 Punctually at noon he was ringing the bell at 
 Portland Place, and during the interval of waiting, 
 he kept protesting to himself that since he was inno- 
 cent he had nothing to fear. To Riggs, who stood 
 in the hall, he made some wholly irrelevant remarks 
 regarding the weather and the time of day, and it 
 was in a very haughty manner that Riggs told a foot- 
 man to take charge of the visitor's rather outlandish 
 overcoat. Presently Herr Habenichts found himself 
 in the library. But it was not Sir John Marduke 
 who met him. It was Monty, who, with smiling face 
 and outstretched hand, made him very welcome, and 
 asked him where he would sit. 
 
 " Here," said Herr Habenichts, thanking him, and 
 sitting down on a roomy easy-chair near the fire. 
 " I had a vire dis morning. Dat vas vrom you, Mr. 
 Marduke?" 
 
 "Yes," said Monty, "and I got your reply."
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 135 
 
 Herr Habenichts unbuttoned his frock coat, and 
 dropped back into the chair with a slight sigh of 
 relief. 
 
 "My father," continued the youth, "has gone 
 to Kensington to open a bazaar." 
 
 "And Miss Marduke?" 
 
 " She has gone with him. That 's why I asked 
 you to come here, Herr Habenichts," replied Monty, 
 smiling again. " I knew that we could have a chat 
 undisturbed. Have a cigar ? " 
 
 Herr Habenichts accepted an TJpmann with great 
 pleasure, and began to smoke peacefully. Now and 
 again, however, he fixed his gaze in a rapt manner 
 on the rows of books, and apologised for not answer- 
 ing Mr. Marduke's questions immediately. Once he 
 rose in order to read the lettering on some volumes, 
 and said that until he knew the names of the books 
 in a room he could not sit still. 
 
 " Well, I wish you would sit still, Herr Habe- 
 nichts, because I have a good deal to speak about," 
 said Monty, taking a greasy sheet of notepaper out 
 of his pocket. "Do you happen to know anything 
 about this letter?" 
 
 It was Ridpath's, which began with the words 
 "Blue-faced Ape," and while Monty read every word 
 of it aloud, Herr Habenichts blushed and moved un- 
 easily in his seat, and then at last swore in German. 
 
 "Dat is de porter, Unerhort. I vill sack him to-
 
 136 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 day for disobedience/' he said, apologising for his 
 servant's insolence. 
 
 " You knew about it ? " inquired Monty. 
 
 " Yes," explained Herr Habenichts. " You see, 
 it 's all about dat blessed Doroty. They are avraid 
 of you!" 
 
 " Who are ' they ' ? And what business is it of 
 theirs?" demanded Monty, in a tone which made 
 Herr Habenichts very uncomfortable. 
 
 " Veil, Svevling, dat cabman, lives at Mrs. Vix, 
 you know. He say dat he loves Dorrie. De cabman 
 dat drove you vrom Jellini's Saturday night. My 
 porter, Ridpath, is his vriend and wrote de letter. 
 De cabman, oh, he is vild ! " said Herr Habenichts, 
 opening his eyes wider, and displaying in them an 
 unusual fire. 
 
 " I see," said Monty, while a feeling of oppression 
 and disgust came over him. But he did not inform 
 Herr Habenichts of Swefling's insulting conduct. 
 
 " Yes, dat cabman, but goot vellow, and I told him 
 dat you could never be his rival in such an affair. 
 You! Nimmer! Gott bewahre! I said dat it vas 
 only your kindness vich is hereditary in you, being 
 a Marduke, vich make you mix vith my pupils and 
 dance vith Miss Dorrie." 
 
 " You are mistaken, Herr Habenichts. I love her," 
 replied the youth, "and I have reason to think that 
 she loves me."
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 137 
 
 " Gerechter Himmel ! " exclaimed Herr Habe- 
 nichts. 
 
 " I am so much in love, Herr Habenichts, that I 
 refuse to believe that any one could be my rival. 
 As for one of Mr. Larkin's men Really, the 
 idea is absurd. That girl was born for other things. 
 She was born for me." 
 
 " Du liever Gott ! " moaned Herr Habenichts. 
 
 " I 'm satisfied with your explanation about this 
 filthy epistle," continued Monty, flinging it into the 
 fire, where it was immediately consumed. " That 
 was one of the reasons why I asked you to come. I 
 don't care a damn for any one, Herr Habenichts. 
 I 'm going to marry that girl. Nothing shall alter 
 my determination. If I were in your own country, 
 or in Germany, or in France, or Italy, I would fight 
 a duel for her." 
 
 Herr Habenichts, with his fatal gift of sympathy, 
 looked admiringly at him. 
 
 " Bravo! " he said. " I like it. But I vill per- 
 suade you it is wrong. It is impossible ! " 
 
 " I wish you to give her this little parcel," said 
 Monty, holding up a neat package tied with pink 
 ribbon. " Is she to be at Jellini's to-day ? " 
 
 Herr Habenichts shook his head. 
 
 " Really ? " asked Monty, as if doubting whether 
 Dorothy's master had spoken the truth. 
 
 " It 's the troot," said Herr Habenichts, emphati-
 
 138 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 cally. " She comes Tuesdays. Oh, Mr. Marduke, 
 dis vill never do ! " 
 
 " She loves me, or will love me, I know it by her 
 voice by my own instincts by everything," said 
 the youth, pacing about the room. "You will give 
 her this? If I sent it to her father's address, she 
 would never receive it." 
 
 It occurred to Herr Habenichts that he would 
 not be abusing Marduke's confidence if for the mo- 
 ment he kept silent regarding his visit to Larkin's 
 yard that afternoon. He expected to have a great 
 influence upon his pupil, and he intended to per- 
 suade her not to consider Mr. Marduke's attentions 
 in any serious light. In the end Marduke himself 
 would be grateful for being delivered from an indis- 
 cretion. Herr Habenichts therefore agreed all the 
 more gladly to act as a go-between, since thereby he 
 would be likewise serving the interests of his patron, 
 the baronet. This kind of double dealing was foreign 
 to his nature, but he believed that he was a diplo- 
 matist, born to bring peace among men. 
 
 " You are a topping good sort, Herr Habenichts," 
 said Monty. " Have a whisky and soda ? " 
 
 " No. I tank you," replied Herr Habenichts, 
 taking the dainty parcel. "Vat does Sir Marduke 
 say ? " he asked. 
 
 " Time will tell him what to say," observed Monty, 
 with a sapient air. "/ have always obeyed my
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 139 
 
 instincts, and they have never played me false. That 
 girl! By Jove! have you ever seen such lovely 
 eyes ? " 
 
 "Vondervoll, vondervoll," acquiesced Herr Habe- 
 nichts. " Like Minerva ! " 
 
 " Diana ! " suggested the delighted Monty. 
 
 " Ach, ja ! " exclaimed Herr Habenichts, feeling 
 the contagion of youth. " Love prings de great hour, 
 and makes you to hear de ringing of de silver bell 
 of your destiny." 
 
 Monty looked at him admiringly. 
 
 "You are a topper, Herr Habenichts," he re- 
 peated. 
 
 " Sein armes Herz ist Liebekrank," said Herr 
 Habenichts, thinking aloud, and then beginning to 
 quote a poem, for he had an encyclopaedic knowledge 
 of European literature 
 
 "'Wine of youth, life, and the sweet deaths of love, 
 Wine of immortal mixture I' 
 
 An Englishman said dat. But haf you read Goethe ? " 
 
 " No," said Monty. 
 
 "Ah! Read * The Bride of Corinth.' Vonder- 
 voll, vondervoll ! " 
 
 Herr Habenichts paused. He had gone too far, 
 and suddenly recollecting himself, he said 
 
 "But I do not encourage you. Oh, no! I say, 
 vorget her."
 
 140 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " I could as soon forget that there is a sun in the 
 heavens," replied the youth, drunk with delight. 
 
 " Or a star in de morning," said Herr Habenichts, 
 relapsing involuntarily into sympathy, and sharing 
 for the moment the boy's vivid ardour. 
 
 For it was Herr Habenichts' way to subject these 
 situations to a benevolent analysis. He sat smiling. 
 
 "You are a poet, Herr Habenichts." 
 
 "I haf always said dat de poets are de great 
 people. Even in der tragedies all is vibrant and 
 varm and alive. Dey haf no dead knowledge! Oh, 
 but come back to de business, Mr. Marduke. Re- 
 member vat Frangois I. wrote on the window at 
 Chambord 
 
 'Souvent femme varie 
 Bien fol est qui s'y fie.' 
 
 You onderstand ? " 
 
 " Say it again," asked Monty. " More slowly." 
 
 '"Souvent femme varie 
 Bien fol est qui s'y fie.' " 
 
 "Yes," said Monty. "But I don't believe it in 
 this case." 
 
 " Ah ! You are too young," exclaimed Herr Habe- 
 nichts, rising to go. 
 
 "Now," said Monty, touching an electric bell, 
 " you 're not going to walk back. I Ve rung for a 
 cab."
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 141 
 
 Herr Habenichts protested that it was unneces- 
 sary, but, before five minutes had gone, he found 
 himself sitting in a hansom of which the fare had 
 been paid. At first he had given Wix's hotel as the 
 address to which he wished to be driven, but he 
 changed it to Larkin's yard. He decided, however, 
 to alight a few paces from the gate, and so he en- 
 tered the yard, walking and looking about him.
 
 CHAPTER NINTH 
 
 OF course, Sam Larkin and Mrs. Muzzey, who had 
 gone into Essex for the day, had not yet returned. 
 During their absence Mrs. Bleeks was proving her- 
 self to be a formidable gaoler to Dorothy, but at 
 the moment when Herr Habenichts entered the yard 
 she was giving herself and her victim a respite, and 
 was standing at the door of Sam's house, meaning 
 to keep her eye on the stablemen. She was leaning 
 upon the long stick of a broom, with which she had 
 been alternately sweeping the step and driving away 
 the hens. Herr Habenichts lifted his silk hat in a 
 manner worthy of a master of deportment, and then 
 advanced towards Mrs. Bleeks with a low bow. Hav- 
 ing observed his method of approach, Mrs. Bleeks 
 felt certain that he was a foreigner, and her suspicions 
 were immediately aroused. 
 
 " Wot d' you want ? " she demanded, drawing her- 
 self up with some difficulty to the height of the 
 broom-stick. 
 
 "I vish to speak vith " 
 
 " Talk like a Christian ! " said Mrs. Bleeks, 
 sharply. " Wot a wy to pronounce the langwidge ! 
 Yer a foreigner ? " 
 
 142
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 143 
 
 " Ja wohl ! " replied Herr Habenichts, in an un- 
 guarded moment, while he lifted his hat again, and 
 also resumed his elaborate bowing. 
 
 " Wot are you performin' for like a dancin' bear ? " 
 asked Mrs. Bleeks. " Sich manners ! I '11 kill my- 
 self larfin'." 
 
 " Vith your permission, my lady," began Herr 
 Habenichts again, " can I see Miss Doroty ? " 
 
 "No, you can't," retorted Mrs. Bleeks, more sus- 
 picious than ever. 
 
 "Can't?" 
 
 " I says so. Are you deaf ? " 
 
 " I must speak, meine Dame." 
 
 " And wy, and wot, and who are you ? " asked Mrs. 
 Bleeks, impatiently. 
 
 "Herr Habenichts." 
 
 " Never heerd on you. Wy don't you stay in your 
 own country? You're a German, come to spy our 
 Navy ! " said Mrs. Bleeks. 
 
 " I 'm vTom Vienna." 
 
 " I says you 're from Germany, and I know it by 
 the cut of your jib. Wot 's the good of tellin' lies ? 
 It's exterornary the imperance of some folks, think- 
 in' they can chase Rule Britannia off the sea. My 
 wig ! Try it ! " exclaimed Mrs. Bleeks, brandishing 
 her broom as Van Tromp might have brandished it. 
 " But wot d' ye want ? " 
 
 " Pardon," said Herr Habenichts. " I 'm only the
 
 144 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 Dance Master at Jellini's, and I vould like to speak 
 vith my pupil." 
 
 Now the name " Jellini " acted upon Mrs. Bleeks 
 like an electric current from a battery. 
 
 "Wot!" she interjected, "you ole wagabone! 
 She 's never to be hallowed to go to yer 'op, step, 
 and jump again. You 've ruined 'er morals ! " 
 
 "Madame " 
 
 " It 's no use/' continued Mrs. Bleeks, " lookin' 
 for pearls in whelks. Wy, I 'd sooner be a cat's- 
 meat man if I was you, as go abaht ruinin' young 
 gals like that, and givin' 'er up late at night to a 
 gent wot brings 'er 'ere dazed like, and sets me 
 dreamin' abaht perambulators." 
 
 Herr Habenichts was thoroughly confused, but he 
 caught the reference to Monty Marduke, and was 
 anxious to set himself right immediately with Mrs. 
 Bleeks. 
 
 " Ah, goot ! " he exclaimed. " I onderstand. It 
 was voolish of him. I haf told him it was very vool- 
 ish, and he must vorget 'er. And now I come to per- 
 suade Miss Doroty to vorget him! You see dis 
 parcel. Veil, it is a present vrom Mr. Marduke; 
 but I vill persvade Miss Doroty to send it back, 
 and so bring de whole ting to an end." 
 
 " I '11 take it, and ' bring de whole ting to an 
 hend,' " said Mrs. Bleeks, mockingly. 
 
 And she was as good as her word, for, before Herr
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 145 
 
 Habenichts could say " Donner Wetter ! " the parcel 
 was safe in the clutch of Mrs. Bleeks. 
 
 " Give me back de bonbons ! " cried Herr Habe- 
 nichts. " Dey are not my property, nor yours. You 
 spoil my game. Ah, you not onderstand diplomacy. 
 Dis is not de vay. Vot vill Mr. Marduke say ? " 
 
 If these words were intended to pacify or intimi- 
 date Mrs. Bleeks, they had precisely the opposite 
 effect. For her voice now rose in denunciation of 
 Herr Habenichts, whom she overwhelmed with her in- 
 vective until he stood stupefied before her. With the 
 parcel tightly held in one hand and the uplifted 
 broom, from which water was dripping, in the other, 
 she began to give him her opinion of his conduct. 
 
 " This is wot 's in the pie, is it ? " she said. " I 
 thinks whenever I sees you wot a 'oary ole swine 
 and wagabone you was. Wot 's a dog if 'is nose 'as 
 fallen off? And I'm not so dotty as not to smell 
 at a shot wot sort of a speciment you was. Sich 
 an indivigual! Comin' 'ere in good daylight with 
 passels from a gent. I '11 show it to Mr. Larkin, 
 that 's my brother, and the boss in this 'ere yard 
 and 'e '11 give it yer 'ot, s-m-o-k-i-n-g 'ot ! " 
 
 " I not onderstand," said Herr Habenichts, looking 
 round in despair, and observing Vardy and some 
 stablemen standing laughing at the open stable 
 doors. 
 
 " I '11 set the dog arter you ! " continued Mrs.
 
 146 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 Bleeks, " and then the p'lice. You ought ter get 
 five stretch and be put in chokee and made to yarn 
 yer grub gallows 'ard. It 's the daringest thing " 
 
 " I don't know wat you say ! " exclaimed Herr 
 Habenichts, excitedly. " Vot haf I done ? " 
 
 But even Mrs. Bleeks seemed to be satisfied that 
 she had said enough. And so, having raised the 
 broom so high that it struck the incandescent gas 
 lamp and broke one of the glass sides, she threw the 
 blame on Herr Habenichts, and then threw the broom 
 at him. Herr Habenichts retired a few paces, and 
 politely requested the return of Mr. Mar duke's box 
 of bonbons. But Mrs. Bleeks beckoned the men, and 
 ordered them to put the foreigner out of the yard. 
 Vardy with a cab whip, the one-eyed stableman with 
 a shaft-strap, and another man with a horse collar 
 were soon in pursuit, and caught up so quickly upon 
 Herr Habenichts that, just as he had got outside the 
 gate, he felt upon the crown of his hat the flick of 
 Vardy's whip. He did not turn round to hear the 
 words which were shouted after him, but when he had 
 walked a few paces towards Euston Road, he stood 
 musing in the middle of the pavement, wondering 
 whether he should go to Monty Marduke and confess 
 the ignominious failure of the embassy. While he 
 was thus standing leaning against his walking-stick 
 with one hand and stroking his shaven chin with the 
 other, he heard some one calling "Herr Habe-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 147 
 
 nichts ! " The voice seemed familiar, and when he 
 looked up, he saw a smart hansom standing before 
 him with Swefling in the driver's seat, and Audacity 
 between the shafts. Now, Swefling and the promise 
 made to him had gone wholly out of Herr Habe- 
 nichts' mind. 
 
 " I Ve been 'angin' abaht for two blessed hours, 
 and 'ave lost three jobs," said Swefling, "wytin' on 
 you. Were you in the yard all the time? Get in 
 and tell me." 
 
 He then turned the handles, and the cab door, 
 which they controlled, flew open to admit Herr Habe- 
 nichts, who, however, stood hesitating on the kerb- 
 stone. 
 
 " Get in ! " urged Swefling, with great eagerness. 
 " Did you see my Dorrie ? " 
 
 " Oh," said Herr Habenichts, turning his broad 
 face upwards, " vat a time of it I 've had ! I '11 see 
 you at night. I 'm going to Mrs. Vix." 
 
 These words, however, only increased Swefling's 
 excitement. 
 
 " I '11 drive you there. Get in at once." 
 
 Herr Habenichts put his foot on the step, and so 
 went for his second cab ride that day. Whether it 
 was due to absent-mindedness or what not, Swefling, 
 instead of driving up the street which led off Euston 
 Road into Fashion Row, put Audacity's head east- 
 wards, and made for Islington. He slackened off
 
 148 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 when Audacity began to mount the steep hill on Pen- 
 tonville Road, and then he opened the trap-door, and 
 looked down. 
 
 "Well? "he asked. 
 
 " Where am I ? " demanded Herr Habenichts, as 
 if awakening from a swoon. 
 
 " Where are you ? " repeated Swefling. " In my 
 cab, of course. What the devil do you mean? Are 
 you drunk ? " 
 
 " Oh," exclaimed Herr Habenichts, fixing his eyes 
 on the metal mounting of Audacity's collar, "vat is 
 wrong vith all de people to-day ? " 
 
 Swefling saw only the top of a hat, and he ob- 
 served that it moved from side to side. Herr Habe- 
 nichts, in fact, was shaking his head, and was mut- 
 tering, " Dat box ! " 
 
 Audacity was a fast walker, and the cab was now 
 descending the hill which goes down to Islington. 
 Towards City Road the traffic became thicker, and, 
 since it was necessary to keep a sharp eye on the elec- 
 tric cars, Swefling could carry on only an intermittent 
 conversation. He reined in Audacity, however, and 
 looked down the trap again. The occupant seemed 
 to be asleep, and so, with the butt end of the whip 
 Swefling gently tapped the crown of Herr Habe- 
 nichts' hat 
 
 " Let me out," said Herr Habenichts, " I '11 valk." 
 
 " Did you see Dorrie ? " demanded Swefling.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 149 
 
 " No," replied Herr Habenichts ; " but I saw a 
 vemale vich I never vish again to see." 
 
 " Explain yerself," said Swefling impatiently. 
 
 "De virst ting was I go to Mr. Marduke," said 
 Herr Habenichts, looking up at Swefling, whose face 
 filled the entire space of the open trap-door, " and 
 told him dat de Dorrie is yours. But he gave me a 
 box of bonbons vor her." 
 
 "And, of course, you gave 'im a box on the ear," 
 remarked Swefling, indignant. 
 
 " Nein," replied Herr Habenichts. 
 
 " You threw it at 'im ? " 
 
 "Nein," repeated Herr Habenichts. "I took it 
 to Larkin's yard, and dat vemale " 
 
 The cab was suddenly stopped, and Herr Habe- 
 nichts heard very violent language uttered imme- 
 diately above his head. 
 
 " Take that ! " said Swefling, using the stick end 
 of his whip again, in such a way that Herr Habe- 
 nichts' hat rolled first on to the foot-board, and then 
 on to a crowded pavement of the City Road. " Damn 
 you for a bilker ! " 
 
 Herr Habenichts was standing bareheaded on the 
 foot-board and attempting to explain what his real 
 intentions had been and the reasons of his failure, 
 while the passers-by supposed that he was having 
 an altercation about the fare. 
 
 " Get out ! Or there '11 be a tremenjous row ! "
 
 150 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 Swefling was saying, " I '11 not be stuck on the deal 
 by a swiney foreigner ! " 
 
 There was nothing for Herr Habenichts to do but 
 to descend and accept his muddy hat from a man 
 who had been kind enough to keep it for him. Then 
 he stood wide-eyed to watch Swefling driving rapidly 
 away towards Euston again.
 
 CHAPTER TENTH 
 
 WHILE Dorothy was still locked in her room, Mrs. 
 Bleeks sat down at the parlour table and began in 
 excitement to open the parcel which Herr Habe- 
 nichts had been forced to leave in her hands. Her 
 large black woollen shawl was tightly pinned across 
 her chest by an old-fashioned gold brooch, in the 
 centre of which shone a large yellow stone. She sat 
 bolt upright; her black eyes, owing to her present 
 condition of inquisitiveness, were even more piercing 
 than usual, and the withered face had become more 
 eagle-like than owl-like. After she had untied the 
 pink ribbons and broken the two red seals with " M " 
 stamped upon the wax, she discovered an envelope 
 lying on the top of a square, deep, white satin box. 
 In wonder she opened the box, and saw that it was 
 filled by delicious French sweets, set in rows. With 
 a humph she replaced the lid, put her spectacles 
 across her nose, and began to read the letter. 
 
 "PORTLAND PLACE, 
 
 " Monday morning. 
 " DEAB Miss DOBOTHY, 
 
 " In case this falls into the hands of that 
 awful old woman, I have asked Herr Habenichts to 
 
 151
 
 152 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 give it to you in the dancing school. I hope you 
 will like the sweets, and I am going to ask you in 
 return to send me your photograph. Please do not 
 forget I am in earnest when I say that I think you 
 should send your pictures to the Academy. There- 
 fore I do wish to see them. My mother left me six 
 valuable pictures, two Corots, a Rembrandt, two Rey- 
 nolds, and a Hals, and I should very much like to 
 show them to you. 
 
 " By the way, it has occurred to me that Mr. Larkin 
 could give me advice about my bay mare. I think 
 there is something wrong with her, and I should like 
 to put her out to grass at his farm. Perhaps I may 
 come this week to speak about it, and if I do, I hope 
 to have the pleasure of seeing you. It seems ages 
 since Saturday night ! 
 
 " Your sincere friend, 
 
 " MONTAGUE MABDUKE/' 
 
 Mrs. Bleeks was, of course, instantly aware that she 
 was " the awful old woman," but, even although the 
 letter had not contained this reference to herself, its 
 entire conception, its suggestions, and its ill-concealed 
 purpose would have been sufficient to enrage her. 
 In a word, she knew perfectly well that it was a 
 love-letter, and she re-read it in a state of fury. She 
 waited impatiently for Sam's arrival, but meantime 
 she was unable to remain downstairs, and so she
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 153 
 
 went up to Dorothy's door to give vent to the feelings 
 which had already accumulated in her. She listened 
 at the door, and heard Dorothy sobbing. Sam's 
 orders were that the culprit, who had been provided 
 with food for the day, was not to be allowed out 
 of prison until he and Mrs. Muzzey had returned. 
 He was, in fact, afraid lest Dorothy might run away. 
 The door was locked from the outside, and the key 
 was in the keyhole. Mrs. Bleeks, however, did not 
 venture to open the door, because she too was afraid 
 that her niece might escape. 
 
 " You 're workin' the tear pump, and no wonder," 
 cried Mrs. Bleeks. "I wouldn't like to be in yer 
 skin when my brother comes back. For it's oh sich 
 a jacketin' you '11 get! I sartify that of all the scaly 
 gals you 're the wust. I would n't give an aypenny 
 for you. Oh, it 's stunnin' flash to get a passel 
 from a gent, and you 're quite sillified with conceit. 
 In coorse you is! You hempty cocoanut! I'm the 
 ' orful ole woman,' ain't I ? Well, we '11 wait and 
 see wot Sam says. You scurf! Oh, pump up the 
 bilge water, but Sam '11 bring more out of you. Won't 
 >ejist?" 
 
 Dorothy trembled, and her terror was magnified 
 when she began to think that this renewed attack 
 by her aunt had something to do with Herr Habe- 
 nichts' visit. For she had seen her dancing master 
 sent dancing out of the yard, and had heard the
 
 154 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 guffaws of Vardy and the other men when they went 
 in pursuit. What could it all mean? She was 
 growing desperate. Yet she neither dared to reply 
 to Mrs. Bleeks's harangue, nor to demand to be let 
 out, and it was with relief that she heard the feet 
 shuffling along the passage and then descending the 
 stair. Mrs. Bleeks was again in the parlour, and 
 it was half -past two by the grandfather's clock. What 
 with sips of gin, stitching an apron, poking the fire, 
 talking to her goldfish and dropping crumbs and 
 ants' eggs into their bowl, re-reading Monty Mar- 
 duke's letter and appropriating some of the contents 
 of the box of sweets, and scolding the servant girl for 
 not bringing the tea, Mrs. Bleeks successfully killed 
 the afternoon and delivered herself from its boredom. 
 It was just as she was dropping three lumps of 
 sugar into her teacup that she heard horse's hoofs 
 in the yard. She looked through the parlour win- 
 dow, and saw a very smart young gentleman sitting 
 as straight as a dragoon on a fine black horse. He 
 wore a black bowler hat, an admirably-cut rid- 
 ing coat, tanned leather breeches, and polished 
 riding-boots with spurs. From behind her mus- 
 lin curtains, Dorothy, in tremor and consternation, 
 likewise beheld this fascinating and disturbing 
 apparition. 
 
 " That 's that same toff ! " exclaimed Mrs. Bleeks, 
 who, in order to make certain of the matter, added
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 155 
 
 a second pair of spectacles to the pair already on 
 her nose. 
 
 And in truth the mounted visitor was none other 
 than Monty Marduke, who, ignorant that Herr Habe- 
 nichts had been before him, and unable to control 
 his desire to see Dorothy, had come to the yard on 
 the pretext of consulting Mr. Larkin about the bay 
 mare. Vardy, who was astonished to see arriving 
 in the cab-yard such a gentleman on such a horse, 
 came forward and took hold of the bridle while 
 Monty dismounted. 
 
 " Can I see Mr. Larkin ? " 
 
 " 'E 's hout, my lord," replied Vardy ; " gone to 
 the country and won't be back till 'arf-past four." 
 
 " Oh," said Monty, thinking that nothing could 
 be better ; " hold the horse for a minute or two. 
 I '11 leave a message. That 's the door, is n't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, my lord," said Vardy, dividing his admira- 
 tion between the horse and its owner. 
 
 Monty then went towards the door where Mrs. 
 Bleeks was already on guard looking more like the 
 chatelaine of a mediaeval castle than Mr. Samuel 
 Larkin's sister. Monty recognised her, and touched 
 his hat with his riding-whip. 
 
 " Take my word/' began Mrs. Bleeks, " it '11 be a 
 bad arternoon if you henters this 'ere prorperty." 
 
 In order to conceal his annoyance, Monty smiled, 
 and, indeed, his determination to see Dorothy at all
 
 156 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 hazards had prepared him for some disagreeable ex- 
 periences. Even already his amour propre was ruffled, 
 and he felt ill at ease. Mrs. Bleeks's unfriendly eyes 
 were fixed upon him, and he was rather abashed. 
 Her look plainly told him that in her opinion he 
 was a bad character. But his passion was headlong, 
 like a torrent, and it would lead him (mislead him ?) 
 anywhere. When he said in a low, almost apologetic 
 tone that he would like to consult Mr. Larkin about 
 the condition of the bay mare, Mrs. Bleeks's loud 
 derision made him quail. He felt like a novice be- 
 fore her hoary wisdom, and he knew that she despised 
 him for his ignorance of the world. 
 
 " You think that Mr. Larkin 's goin' to swallow 
 that like one o'clock ? " she asked, in a brisk manner, 
 and with the most inhuman laugh imaginable. 
 " You 're wery silly if you does. Wy, 'e 's not a 
 weter'nary any'ow, and you Ve come to the wrong 
 shop. Lor' love you, you looks a hinnocent young 
 gent, too, it 's sich a pity to see the likes o' you 
 goin' to the bad. I advise you not to stop 'ere wery 
 much longer, but to scoot, for I would n't like to 
 see Mr. Larkin 'orsewhippin' of you. Now that I 
 claps my heyes on you I can even forgive yer blastit 
 imperance abaht * that orful old woman.' Yes, I 
 s'pose I 'm ole, but wy I 'm orful jist becose I 'm 
 wantin' to save Sam's darter from ruin, I dunnow." 
 
 Monty Marduke immediately felt confused, indig-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 157 
 
 nant, and ashamed. Although he remembered his 
 uncomplimentary reference to Mrs. Bleeks in the 
 letter which he had sent with the box of sweets he 
 was at a loss to know how the words could have 
 already reached her ears. Wondering whether Herr 
 Habenichts had already delivered it, he boldly in- 
 formed Mrs. Bleeks that he wished to speak with 
 Miss Larkin. 
 
 " Is she at home ? " he asked. 
 
 " No," replied Mrs. Bleeks, peremptorily. " She 's 
 at sea. And it's not wery purty of a young gent 
 wot should know better to turn the 'ead of a silly 
 gal quite giddy by dancin' with 'er at Jellini's, 
 where 'e 'ad no right to be." 
 
 " May I not speak to you indoors ? " asked Monty, 
 considerably irritated because Vardy, who was hold- 
 ing the horse, was unfortunately hearing every word 
 of the conversation. 
 
 Mrs. Bleeks eyed her niece's admirer very atten- 
 tively for a few moments. His manner was so irre- 
 sistible that even she thought that if she invited him 
 into the parlour and listened to him more quietly she 
 might actually succeed in turning him from his de- 
 sign upon Dorothy, of whom she was furiously jeal- 
 ous. She therefore consented to his proposal, led 
 him along the narrow passage to the parlour, and 
 shut the door. Seated at the table upon which Mrs. 
 Bleeks's teacup still stood, Marduke was unable to see
 
 158 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 his box of bonbons and his opened letter which lay 
 near the bowl of goldfish on the little mahogany 
 sideboard immediately behind him. And, indeed, 
 Mrs. Bleeks held his attention so fixedly that he 
 had no eyes for anything in the room besides 
 herself. 
 
 " You says yon 've come for Mr. Larkin's advice, 
 young man ? " she asked. " I '11 give it for 'im, in 
 coorse I knows wot it is. Don't make a fool of 
 yerself." 
 
 " I hope I never shall," said Monty. 
 
 " I 'm Mr. Larkin's sister, I 'm the ' orful ole wo- 
 man.' I 'm Mrs. Bleeks," she continued; " and take 
 my gospel word, which is it'll be shockin' ockerd 
 if Mr. Larkin finds you 'ere. If you goes quietly 
 awy, and takes yer passel with you, I '11 promise 
 to say nuffin'. That 's the card, and if I was you 
 I 'd play it. That ole rake of a furreigner as you 
 sent 'ere with yer passel and love-letter should be 
 shot." 
 
 " Sent here ? " demanded Monty, momentarily 
 bewildered. 
 
 " Don't try and look hinnocent," said Mrs. Bleeks ; 
 "as if you did n't send that ole dancin' loon at Jel- 
 lini's 'ere this wery day. 'Ow could 'e 'ave come if 
 you 'ad n't sent 'im ? " 
 
 Mrs. Bleeks pointed with her thumb to the side- 
 board, and when Monty turned round and saw his
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 159 
 
 box of sweets and his letter lying spread out beside 
 it, be immediately rose, greatly confused. Then he 
 seized both and demanded if Mrs. Bleeks had tam- 
 pered with them. 
 
 "Yes," said she; "and now jist you go 'ome 
 and sit in sackcloth and hashes and forget it all. I 
 wants to put you hup to the time o 'day. We knows 
 you. Yer father's the great filthyanthropist." 
 
 Monty burst out laughing. 
 
 " You 're larfin'. Larf as you likes," said Mrs. 
 Bleeks, sternly ; " but it 's a shameful game as you 've 
 been tryin' to play. In the days of the blessed Wic- 
 toria, wot, they says, was like me, sich doin's was 
 never heerd on, but now gents thinks nuffin' of runnin' 
 arter hactresses and ballet gals. As if a ole woman 
 like me can't guess wot the likes o' you's hup to, 
 sendin' sweets to a gal like that." 
 
 Had the fascination of Dorothy for Monty Marduke 
 been less great, it is certain that he would have long 
 ago brought his interview with Mrs. Bleeks to an end, 
 and that he would have quitted Larkin's yard, never 
 to return. But the thought of his Dulcinea was so 
 tender that it made him forget the humiliation into 
 which he had been suddenly plunged, and he set him- 
 self to conquer the feeling of sickness which came 
 over him during his contact with Mrs. Bleeks. That 
 his Dorothy belonged to such people at all was a mat- 
 ter for bitter amazement.
 
 160 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " Mrs. Bleeks," he said, " my intentions are per- 
 fectly honourable. I am in love with your niece. 
 I wish to marry her, and I shall be only too delighted 
 to make Mr. Larkin's further acquaintance in order 
 to receive his consent." 
 
 " I likes that ! " exclaimed Mrs. Bleeks, ironically. 
 
 "I'm in dead earnest," said the youth, and he 
 looked it. 
 
 " You 're clean cracked," said she. " Go awy. 
 My brother and sister '11 be 'ere in a flick." 
 
 But when Monty repeated that he was in earnest, 
 and insisted on waiting in order to speak to Mr. 
 Larkin, Mrs. Bleeks looked at him excitedly, and her 
 sneers of incredulity ceased. 
 
 Her manner became suddenly mysterious, her eyes 
 began to blink, and she asked Monty if he knew any- 
 thing about rats. 
 
 " Rats ? " he asked surprised. 
 
 " Wy," she replied, " if you knows any think abaht 
 rats you never puts a barn rat and a sewer rat in the 
 same cage, does you ? " 
 
 " Why not ? " asked Monty, who knew nothing 
 whatever about rats. 
 
 " Becose in coorse they '11 fight till they 're 
 both lyin' dead. Don't yer see they doesn't 
 mate ? " 
 
 " Then which am I ? " asked Monty in great 
 merriment.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 161 
 
 she informed him, " since you 're the 
 gent, you 're the barn rat, and my niece 's the 
 sewer." 
 
 Monty's laugh did not please Mrs. Bleeks, who 
 meant her fable to have an educative influence upon 
 him. But she had apparently a reserve of arguments 
 and advice, and she proceeded with a bitter grin on 
 her hard old lips to give him the benefit of listening 
 to her. 
 
 " I dessay you 're a niceish young man, and this 
 is jist a silly fust love, and you '11 be ashamed of yer- 
 self in a week. Well, I wants to perwent you puttin' 
 the saddle on the wrong 'oss, don't yer know. Arter 
 all, we 're a good ole family," she said, sitting bolt 
 upright in the attitude in which she supposed she 
 resembled Queen Victoria. " And Mr. Larkin's 
 father wot was mine and Mrs. Muzzey's 'ad the farm 
 from 'is father, and so back and back for three or 
 four generations. It's more than wot some silk- 
 stockinged gentry can say. Larkin 's a name in Essex 
 and in Middlesex, too. Well, you would n't be mak- 
 in' sich a bad splash arter all by marryin' Sam's 
 darter if she was 'is darter." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked Monty, astonished. 
 " Not his daughter ? Who is she, then ? " 
 
 " Keep quiet," said Mrs. Bleeks, letting her voice 
 drop almost to a whisper, " it 's a long song, and if I
 
 162 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 says anythink it 's jist to give you a tip wot '11 keep 
 you from makin' a hass of yerself. No. She 's not 
 Sam's darter. She ain't got a drop of Larkin blood 
 in 'er. Ain't that wy Mrs. Muzzey and me's been 
 so hindignant 'aving to call ourselves 'er hants and 
 we 're not 'er hants." 
 
 " Then who is she ? " asked Monty, again in great 
 excitement. 
 
 "I says keep quiet, doesn't I? and listen," Mrs. 
 Bleeks admonished him while she began to purr with 
 delight. " I '11 tell you wot she is. She 's a 'asty pud- 
 din'. Oh, in coorse, you does n't understand 'ow the 
 likes of us talks. Well, she 's a Illegitimate crea- 
 ture as it 's a disgrace to 'ave in the 'ouse ! " said Mrs. 
 Bleeks, with her eyes blazing ; " 'er name ain't Larkin 
 at all. It 's Darsham, if she calls 'erself arter 'er 
 father, and it 's Sherwin if she calls 'erself arter 'er 
 mother. I says she should be called Darsham to fix 
 the ticket on the father." 
 
 Now Mrs. Bleeks shall not be permitted to irritate 
 the reader as she irritated Monty Marduke by the in- 
 tolerable and roundabout method in which she chose 
 to unfold the true history of Dorothy Darsham, some- 
 time known as Dorothy Larkin. Monty, indeed, was 
 reduced to desperation by her frequent pauses, her 
 endless comments and warnings, and by her attacks 
 on the moral character of her dead sister-in-law, 
 Dorothy's mother. And so we will leave him urging
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 163 
 
 her to move faster and crying, "Go on! What? 
 Good Heavens ! " and in as brief a manner as pos- 
 sible and with only a few borrowings from Mrs. 
 Bleeks we shall in the following chapter make a clean 
 breast of it.
 
 CHAPTER ELEVENTH 
 
 AMONG the officers of the South-Eastern Command 
 none was so handsome or so popular as Colonel the 
 Earl of Swaffham. But all the Darshams were hand- 
 some, and the Earl's aunt, Arabella, Duchess of 
 Berkshire, was still counted the best preserved old 
 woman in London. When Lord Swaffham, dressed 
 in his regimentals, walked from his hotel in Colches- 
 ter to the barracks, or rode at the head of his men, he 
 was generally an object of attention, and, moreover, it 
 was supposed that owing to his qualities as a soldier, 
 a great military career might lie before him. But 
 he was not rich, in truth, he was poor, for, during 
 three successive generations, the Darsham estates in 
 Suffolk had been wretchedly administered, and the 
 Earl had received the family inheritance overwhelm- 
 ingly mortgaged. Unhappily, too, there was a shadow 
 over his wedded life, and his wife by her extravagance 
 and her exploits at a famous gaming table had already 
 caused him deep mortification. He was in the prime 
 of life, forty-six years old, but he had no heir. He 
 might as well have been a widower, for his wife 
 was dead to him, and he to her. It was probably in 
 
 164
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 165 
 
 order to forget the disillusions which had accompa- 
 nied his marriage that he threw himself with such 
 ardour into his military duties. The news that the 
 Countess of Swaffham had begun to indulge in the 
 morphia habit hardly came as a surprise. But her 
 husband endeavoured to keep it secret and to the 
 inquiries of friends and enemies regarding her where- 
 abouts he replied, "Travelling." Shortly afterwards 
 he provided medical treatment for her in a nursing 
 home, although she had squandered most of the little 
 fortune which remained to him. His relatives, and 
 especially the Dowager Duchess of Berkshire, Monty 
 Marduke's friend, advised him to take divorce pro- 
 ceedings. But Lord Swaffham was a Darsham, and 
 the Darsham pride is well known. His feelings were 
 too fine, his horror of exposure too great, and, besides, 
 he pitied his wife. Therefore, he quietly resumed his 
 bachelor habits, and he found that his regiment ab- 
 sorbed all his energies. It was at this moment that, 
 wholly unknown to himself, he excited an admiration 
 and an ardent affection in the mind and heart of Miss 
 Louise Sherwin, the daughter of a gentleman farmer 
 of Manningtree, near Colchester. Miss Sherwin had 
 many opportunities of observing him, and she did all 
 she could to increase them. The tramp, tramp of his 
 regiment as it set out from the barracks or returned 
 to them brought the blood to her cheek, but many a 1 
 time all that she was able to procure was an exas-
 
 166 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 perating glimpse of her colonel as he disappeared on 
 horseback round the bend of an Essex road. She used 
 to drive to Colchester on Sundays on the pretext of 
 attending the services in a particular church, but it 
 was the church to which the Colonel marched his men. 
 
 " Them red coats ! " exclaimed Mrs. Bleeks, 
 " when a gal loves a sodger we says she 's got scarlet 
 fever." 
 
 " Go on, go on ! " urged Monty. 
 
 Well, it was by a singular fortune or misfortune 
 that the fascinating officer met his suffering and de- 
 spairing admirer face to face. One clear October 
 morning the hunt was streaming across the fields 
 of Essex towards Manningtree, and, as usual, Lord 
 Swaffham was riding with the greatest dash and 
 brilliancy. If he looked well in uniform he looked 
 still better in pink and tops. Mr. Sherwin was a 
 friend of the hunt, and they were always welcome on 
 his land. Whenever he heard horn or hound he used 
 to run across his lawn to watch the boldest riders tak- 
 ing a particularly stiff fence which he had set up be- 
 tween two of his fields for the express purpose, it was 
 said, of admiring British pluck. There was a ditch 
 on the near side. Suddenly Lord Swaffham's horse 
 refused, but its rider had too secure a seat, and he 
 was not thrown. Once more he put his mount to the 
 fence, but the animal failed to clear it, and with its 
 rider it fell very heavily.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 167 
 
 " In coorse," said Mrs. Bleeks, " 'e was carried to 
 the farm. She was his nuss, and 'e stopped too long." 
 
 " Was she pretty ? " asked Monty, bending 
 forward. 
 
 " If 'er as Sam calls 'is darter 's purty, and I says 
 she ain't," replied Mrs. Bleeks, looking at him archly, 
 " then I s'pose the mother was, for they 're as like as 
 two peas." 
 
 The truth was, of course, that Louise Sherwin was 
 very beautiful. But there were now rumours and 
 whispers in Colchester and Manningtree, and sud- 
 denly, after an interview with the General command- 
 ing the district, and under compulsion from the War 
 Office, the Earl of Swaffham resigned his commission. 
 Sherwin had decided upon his ruin, and so the un- 
 fortunate affair became public. Louise was turned 
 out of her father's house, and Swaffham purchased 
 the lease of a cottage for her about five miles from 
 Colchester. It was there that Dorothy was born. A 
 certain sympathy was felt for Swaffham, who de- 
 clared truly that he had intended to make Louise his 
 wife after he had divorced the Countess of Swaffham, 
 for reasons already well known, and for others of a 
 painful kind which it is not necessary to narrate. 
 But he had made the gravest error in tactics, and one 
 moment of imprudence and tenderness had shattered 
 his career. Even his aunt, the Dowager Duchess of 
 Berkshire, failed to support him in face of the dis-
 
 168 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 approval which, he now encountered. But he was 
 too proud to seek help from any quarter, and al- 
 though he was placed on half pay, he refused to ac- 
 cept it. Unfortunately the bitter experience of 
 obloquy began to alienate the affection of Louise. 
 Some believed that her mind became temporarily 
 troubled, and at any rate she refused to see the man 
 whose ambitions and reputation she had broken in 
 pieces. A settlement was made for her, and Swaff- 
 ham, having discarded his title, went, it is supposed, 
 to Paris. Louise continued to live in the cottage, 
 and she had the Larkins as neighbours. For the cot- 
 tage with its small garden formed part of Larkin's 
 farm, and it was from Sam Larkin that Lord Swaff- 
 ham had obtained the lease. 
 
 " It 'appened eighteen years ago," said Mrs. Bleeks, 
 taking breath; " and now I comes to Sam's mistake. 
 In coorse we saw a good deal of 'er, and wot does Sam 
 do but like a hidiot, falls in love with 'er a year arter 
 she had quarrelled with Swaffham, and says 'e '11 
 take 'er, darter and all! Wasn't we hindignant? 
 Sich a marriage for Sam! Ain't that wy 'e 'ad to 
 leave Essex and start this 'ere business ? Eor 'e took 
 it into 'is 'ead that the people was larfin' at 'im, and so 
 they was. Well, she did n't live long arter they was 
 married, and then Mrs. Muzzey and me 'ad all the 
 trouble of bringin' up the darter wot Sam makes us 
 call our niece. Sam 's poured out affection on 'er 
 like water, and in coorse we was wild. The Swaff-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 169 
 
 ham blood 's beginnin' to show in 'er. That 's wy 
 she gives 'erself sich airs, jist like the mother who 
 said that when she married Sam she married 
 beneath 'er." 
 
 Mrs. Bleeks declared that she was now at the end 
 of the story, and she looked at Monty expecting to 
 hear him express profuse thanks for having been de- 
 livered from a trap. But she was mistaken. His 
 face was all lit up by a smile because he was con- 
 gratulating himself on his own powers of perception. 
 He had seen at a glance that there was something 
 uncommon about Dorothy. And at Jellini's had not 
 even Sir John Marduke expressed surprise at her 
 beauty and her manners ? 
 
 " This is extraordinary, Mrs. Bleeks," said Monty. 
 " I once heard Lord Swaffham being discussed in my 
 own regiment. My old colonel was his friend, and 
 he used to deplore the immense loss which the army 
 sustained when Lord Swaffham was forced to retire. 
 Little did I think that I would ever meet Miss 
 Darsham. Where is she ? " 
 
 " She 's locked up," replied Mrs. Bleeks. " When 
 Sam sees you bringin' 'er from Jellini's Sat'day night 
 it brought the story back to 'im, and 'e began thinkin' 
 the gal 's goin' to be like 'er mother. And so she 's 
 bein' punished, and she's been locked upstairs in 'er 
 room ever since. Now, if I was you, Mr. Marduke, 
 I 'd go awy. Sam '11 be 'ere direckly." 
 
 Mr. Marduke, however, had other intentions, and
 
 170 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 he asked Mrs. Bleeks to be good enough to permit 
 him to have an interview with Dorothy that instant. 
 And he added that he would wait till Mr. Larkin 
 returned. 
 
 " Wot for ? " demanded Mrs. Bleeks. 
 
 " To tell him," replied Monty, calmly, " that he 
 has no legal control over his step-daughter. She 
 does n't know anything about her real origin, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " In coorse not ! " exclaimed Mrs. Bleeks, alarmed. 
 " If you says a word of it to my brother 'e '11 murder 
 you!" 
 
 " What right has Tie to lock her up ? " demanded 
 Monty, as he rose and looked at Mrs. Bleeks in a very 
 threatening manner. 
 
 " Jist you get on the trot at once and out of this," 
 said Mrs. Bleeks, who had turned pale because she 
 was agitated. 
 
 Monty, however, with his bonbons and his letter, 
 left the room, heedless of Mrs. Bleeks's warnings 
 and cries of " Murder ! " and " Thief ! " He found 
 his way along the dark passage to the foot of the 
 stair. Presently he reached the top and was walking 
 along another lobby on each side of which there were 
 doors. He looked carefully at every door until he 
 came to one in which he saw a key, and he guessed 
 that Dorothy was within. He listened for a moment, 
 but heard only Mrs. Bleeks's voice in the yard. He
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 171 
 
 listened again, and he heard a drawer being closed. 
 Then as he turned the key he called " Miss Doro- 
 thy ! " But it was a different Dorothy whom he saw. 
 She had been weeping and the traces of her tears were 
 on her face. Moreover, she looked afraid and even 
 displeased; and she shrank back from him. With a 
 rapid gesture she refused to allow him to approach 
 nearer. 
 
 " Mr. Marduke, you ought not to have come here ! 
 I cannot see you. Please go away, and shut that door. 
 I never wish to see you again," she said. 
 
 Monty was thunderstruck. 
 
 " I meant Herr Habenichts to give you these," 
 he said, crestfallen, yet thrusting the white satin box 
 and the letter into her hands ; " but I have more 
 important " 
 
 His sentence was cut short. A cab was arriving in 
 the yard ; then came a babel of voices, and the sound 
 of a heavy foot on the stair, and the words, "What 
 the devil! Who?" 
 
 Monty quickly closed the door, but he did not 
 relock it. Then he walked back towards the head of 
 the stairs where he met Sam Larkin, who first glared 
 at him in silence. Then a very disagreeable alter- 
 cation took place between them. Sam, unable and 
 also unwilling to believe that a youth in Monty Mar- 
 duke's position actually comtemplated marriage with 
 Dorothy, ignorant, also, that Mrs. Bleeks had betrayed
 
 172 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 the secret in which his pride and jealousy had been so 
 long entrenched, lost not a moment in acting the part 
 of an injured parent. He was a very powerful man, 
 and might have easily flung the slim youth down the 
 stairs. That, indeed, was what he threatened to do. 
 
 "I quite understand, Mr. Larkin," said Monty, 
 whose voice was vibrating, " that you are surprised 
 to see me here. I will be very glad to speak with 
 you." 
 
 " Get out ! " retorted Sam in the most menacing 
 tone. 
 
 " I am very sorry," replied Monty. " I know that 
 I require to give an explanation." 
 
 "What right have you to follow my daughter 
 about ? " demanded Larkin, while Monty stood 
 clutching his riding-whip. 
 
 " Your daughter? " asked Monty. 
 
 "Yes, my daughter." 
 
 " She 's not your daughter," said Monty, observing 
 that Larkin staggered slightly, and was unable to 
 make an immediate reply. 
 
 " Mrs. Bleeks has just told me that during all those 
 years you have acted like an affectionate father " 
 
 But it was impossible to complete the sentence, 
 for Larkin was giving expression to his complete loss 
 of self-control in a whirl of loud and angry words. 
 
 " By what right," demanded Monty, " do you
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 173 
 
 deprive of her liberty a girl who is not your daughter 
 at all ? I know Lord Swaffham's aunt." 
 
 " Get out ! And mind your own business," said 
 Larkin, stung by the mention of Swaffham's name. 
 
 " You shall hear about this ! " replied Monty, 
 excitedly, as he descended the stair. 
 
 Mrs. Bleeks with Mrs. Muzzey had taken refuge in 
 the parlour, and the former was preparing to meet 
 her brother. In the yard Vardy was still holding 
 the horse, which had become restive. As Marduke 
 mounted he gave the lad two half-crowns, and asked 
 his name. Then he rode away.
 
 CHAPTER TWELFTH 
 
 MONTY MABDTTKE was now in a condition of electrical 
 heat Or, if we might borrow another illustration 
 from contemporary science, he was in an advanced 
 stage of radio-activity. In fact, he had begun to be- 
 have exactly like the particle of radium which, no 
 matter what obstacle it encounters, pursues through 
 the densest objects a rectilinear path, and does not 
 permit itself even for a moment to be deflected. For 
 love, too, is radiant matter, and has the power of 
 lending luminescence to the beings surrounding it. 
 Monty felt himself all aglow. By a romantic acci- 
 dent he found himself in the saddle, looking, for all 
 his modern costume, like a very perfect knight ready 
 to tilt for his lady, who lay in that unromantic prison 
 of a London cab-yard. In sober truth, the youth was 
 very excited. This singular emotion which was now 
 stirring him did not appear to have come to him as a 
 mere matter of course. When they arrive at a certain 
 age many men take their love affairs as part of the 
 inevitable routine of existence. They are to fall in 
 love and they are to get married. That is what the 
 
 world expects of them. But owing to the steady re- 
 
 174
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTEK 175 
 
 duction of the romantic elements of modern life, 
 owing to the stripping of its romantic garniture, those 
 important events too often take place in a very me- 
 chanical and even prosaic way. The old method of 
 capture of a wife involving the risk of the capturer's 
 life and limb has really something to say for itself; 
 and at least Monty Marduke would not have been 
 afraid to fight. His own character was highly ardent, 
 and then the manner in which he had fallen in love 
 was very surprising. Dorothy's undoubted loveli- 
 ness, the discovery which he had just made regarding 
 her birth, the dangers of her surroundings, and the 
 anxieties which lay immediately ahead, helped him 
 to see and feel that he had suddenly become engaged 
 in an adventure. That unlooked-for and very painful 
 repulse which he had a few moments ago suffered at 
 her hands made him touch his horse with the spur, 
 because time pressed, and he was eager to be home in. 
 order to begin to act at once. He rode quickly back 
 to his father's stables, and he was no sooner arrived 
 at Portland Place than he divested himself of his 
 riding suit and dressed himself in correct method for 
 an afternoon visit. Then he ordered Riggs to call 
 a cab. He heard that Sir John and Minnie Marduke 
 were in the house, and for a moment he hesitated as 
 to whether he should let them know that the girl 
 whom they had seen dancing at Jellini's was the 
 natural daughter of the Earl of Swaffham. But he
 
 176 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 guessed that the news was not in the least likely to 
 recommend her; that, on the contrary, his father's 
 pride and his sister's bigotry would be still more 
 deeply outraged. Besides, the most urgent need of 
 the present was not to attempt to conciliate them, 
 but to do something to save Dorothy from mishap. 
 Every moment that she remained unprotected in such 
 surroundings increased Monty's fear and indignation. 
 When he allowed his mind to rove on possibilities, 
 on the danger, for instance, of her removal and con- 
 cealment by Sam Larkin, who doubtless was her legal 
 guardian, he became very miserable. He asked in 
 a rather irritated manner if the hansom was not yet 
 at the door. But the second footman was still whis- 
 tling for one. Then two thoughts suggested them- 
 selves. What if by chance it is Swefling's cab that 
 drives up? What if it is Larkin's design to make 
 Dorothy marry Swefling! Monty walked to the tele- 
 phone and rang up the Dowager Duchess of Berk- 
 shire. He got the connection at once, and asked 
 her butler if the Dowager was at home. The butler 
 begged him to hold the line for a moment, and then 
 returned with the answer that her Grace would be 
 very pleased to receive Mr. Monty Marduke. And 
 now a hansom was at the door, and since it was not 
 Swefling's, Monty entered it, and was driven to 
 Grosvenor Square. 
 
 She was known as the eccentric Dowager, and
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 177 
 
 Monty counted upon her originality and breadth of 
 view. She used to say that an hereditary curse 
 rested upon the Darshams, and she almost suspected 
 that she had brought their ill luck to the Duke who 
 was accidentally shot on the third day after she 
 had married him. It had taken her half a lifetime 
 to recover from that shock, and it was only late that 
 her natural alertness of spirit returned. It was a 
 severe ordeal to be made a dowager while still in the 
 flower of youth, and to be compelled to see the duke- 
 dom passing to her husband's cousin, whom she dis- 
 liked. When she looked back on her life it seemed 
 extraordinarily long. But she had grown old grace- 
 fully. Her eyes were still bright without the aid of 
 lotions, and she was rather proud of her abundant 
 grey curls which, whenever she became very animated, 
 she shook vigorously as if to prove that since it was 
 Nature that had fastened them on her head they were 
 in no immediate danger of dropping off. The pro- 
 vision for her maintenance was not considered hand- 
 some, and although it was sufficient for her needs it 
 was not sufficient for her ambitions. Nevertheless 
 her middle life and old age were happy. She was 
 interested in everything. Many friendships, a little 
 travelling, a good deal of bridge, music, and the play 
 these things filled her life. She gave, too, her 
 Duchess's mite to charity. What pleased her best 
 was to be surrounded by young people of both sexes,
 
 178 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 for whom she designed frequent parties. Monty 
 Marduke had long been her favourite, and she loved 
 to think of making a match for him. She hoped 
 that it was in her house that he would meet his 
 future wife. There were to choose from, for instance, 
 Lady Westcott's daughters, all beautiful, there was 
 Miss Forbes Alperton, or Diana Melmore, or one 
 of the Tilburys, or the pretty daughter of Sir Philip 
 Marston. All these and many others were to be seen 
 during the season in her Yellow Drawing-Room, 
 and any of them was a most desirable parti for a 
 young man like Marduke. But even by him the old 
 woman was rather feared than esteemed, and he 
 was greatly embarrassed by her admiration. Her 
 friends noticed that her vivacity always increased 
 whenever he entered her crowded rooms, for by his 
 mere presence he seemed to bring to her the elixir of 
 life. She never understood why some insolent person 
 had dubbed her eccentric. Was it because she still 
 loved the society of young people? Was it because 
 when she too was young she had proposed to ride 
 astride ? The suggestion had shocked her contem- 
 poraries, and it was in vain that she informed ignorant 
 people that Velazquez painted (or rather repainted, as 
 she should have said) two Queens of Spain riding 
 astride. She was the declared enemy of solemn airs, 
 pretension, and humbug, and frequently her haughty 
 temper frightened some of her guests. But they
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 179 
 
 still buzzed delightedly around her. Although she 
 was very angry with her nephew, the unfortunate Earl 
 of Swaffham, she was even more furious against his 
 detractors. When he was attacked she attempted 
 to defend him by laying emphasis on the provocation 
 which he had suffered. For she had always disliked 
 the Countess of Swaffham. As yet, however, she had 
 done nothing for her nephew, and it was only for 
 the sake of the family name that she made efforts 
 to muzzle up the scandal. She had never been able 
 to forgive his foolish blunder in strategy. If he 
 was fated to fall in love with a Louise Sherwin, he 
 should have either divorced his wife or waited pa- 
 tiently or impatiently for her death, which the doctors 
 predicted. And their prediction came true. Louise 
 Sherwin as Countess of Swaffham, and therefore 
 niece to Arabella, Duchess of Berkshire, was perhaps 
 a perplexing vision. But, after all, she was the 
 daughter of a gentleman. The proper wages of that 
 kind of sin is, said the Dowager, marriage ; but that 
 particular marriage could never have been half so 
 distressing in its effects as the painful collapse of 
 the Earl's brilliant career. When a question about 
 the affair was actually put to the Minister for War, 
 and was answered by him in the House of Commons, 
 the Duchess blushed so deeply that she declared that 
 for many days she could not regain her proper colour. 
 But that was eighteen years ago, and the matter was
 
 180 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 forgotten. It was not even known to the new genera- 
 tion. If anyone revived the memory of it the Duch- 
 ess would be mortally offended. She was hardly 
 conscious that she still possessed her nephew's por- 
 trait which used to hang in the Yellow Drawing- 
 Room, but had been removed many years ago into 
 the greater privacy of the boudoir. The Swaffham 
 line might now be considered at an end. " We are 
 an extinct volcano," remarked the Duchess, a state- 
 ment which was denied by all those who had ex- 
 perienced the heat and hot ashes of her temper. 
 With the exception, however, of a hundred Suffolk 
 acres which she had bought back, the Darsham estate 
 was now the property of the mortgagees. Only one 
 thing in her nephew's behaviour greatly pleased her. 
 She admired the pride which had made him efface 
 himself and disappear utterly from the society which 
 had known him. Was he in Paris, in America, or 
 perhaps Japan ? There had been whispers, but noth- 
 ing was confirmed. It was even rumoured that he 
 was dead, and she hoped it was true. As for his 
 child, the Duchess knew that there was, or had been, 
 such a person, but she had made no investigations. 
 Why should she have made them ? 
 
 Monty entered the room in a manner which be- 
 trayed that he was full of news. But Arabella, who 
 was drinking tea, cut his " Oh, Duchess ! " short, for 
 she had no intention of allowing him to speak until
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 181 
 
 she had expressed her extreme dissatisfaction. He 
 refused tea ; he seemed nervous, and the Duchess felt 
 sure that he had come to apologise. He shook hands 
 almost timidly, and asked if she expected anyone, 
 because he wished to be with her " absolutely alone." 
 
 " Well, sit beside me," she said, and made room 
 for him on the yellow damask sofa. 
 
 He sat down intending to begin forthwith, but 
 her finger raised in the usual mocking manner told 
 him that she had something to say, and that he must 
 listen. 
 
 " Ah, Monty, Monty ! " she exclaimed, looking and 
 laughing at him and shaking her head so that the 
 curls went round in a whirl. " Monty, Monty, 
 Monty!" 
 
 A rich dim winter twilight filled the beautiful 
 room. Arabella hated a glare, and the lights were 
 always harmonised. A shaded electric lamp stood 
 on the tea-table and made the silver and the porce- 
 lain twinkle. Here and there throughout the room 
 a few candles on old-fashioned silver candlesticks 
 burned tranquilly, and together with the glow of a 
 steady, not a roaring fire, illuminated the room in a 
 soft and pleasing way. 
 
 " Duchess " he began. 
 
 " Monty," she said, " I could hardly have supposed 
 that you could be such a coward. That paragraph! 
 Now, there, you look perfectly guilty. You stayed
 
 182 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 away because of that paragraph in a halfpenny 
 newspaper. You are not chivalrous even, to an old 
 woman." 
 
 "Duchess I really " 
 
 " Yes, you really did. You were afraid to be seen 
 in my box because the silly paragraph said that we 
 were going to be married ! " said the Duchess, shak- 
 ing her curls as she laughed again. 
 
 " Not at all," urged Monty, joining in the laugh 
 since it was impossible not to be amused at the 
 thought of such a hoary bride. " But I have some- 
 thing far more extraordinary " 
 
 " Oh yes, you did. You know. Now tell me 
 what Sir John said. I am really very eager to hear 
 what he and Minnie said, especially Minnie." 
 
 "They laughed, too," said Monty; "but I've 
 come " 
 
 " It 's more than you did, then," continued the 
 Dowager. " I think I can see you in a great state 
 of nerves rushing to get the telegram sent off deny- 
 ing the whole thing. D' you know I 've had a great 
 many telegrams and telephone messages congratu- 
 lating me ? It 's so amusing. D' you see that little 
 tortoise-shell clock ? That 's a marriage present to 
 me from Lady Wimperton. She says that she always 
 likes to be first, and that whenever she hears the an- 
 nouncement of a wedding off goes the present. Oh, 
 Monty ! I like to think of all the horrid things they
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 183 
 
 are saying about me. I suppose the clock was meant 
 to remind me that my time is up ! Why, I am getting 
 on to sixty." (She was sixty-three.) "Well, Sir 
 John and Minnie were amused, were they not ? Ah, 
 I do like people with merry hearts. Only solemn 
 young men like you can't take a joke. Still, it's 
 brave of you to come here in daylight. I am sur- 
 prised that you had the courage. For how do you 
 know that people are not watching from all sides 
 of the Square? Why, there will very likely be an- 
 other paragraph in that halfpenny paper to-morrow 
 morning. It will say t In spite of Mr. Monty 
 Marduke's denial of his engagement, which, at his 
 request, we gladly printed, we are able to inform our 
 readers that our representative stationed in Grosve- 
 nor Square, observed Mr. Marduke last night about 
 five o'clock, entering the residence of Arabella, Duch- 
 ess of Berkshire.' Oh you will be in such a flurry 
 and fever about it. What will you do, Monty ? " 
 " Duchess, I Ve something very important " 
 "Don't rattle," she said; "think of this. If 
 I leave you all my property, how many heads will 
 be set wagging ? They '11 say, ' Now, was there 
 not something in it ? ' You are looking quite cross. 
 That 's just the expression you have when you play 
 badly at bridge. You know I call it the asses' 
 bridge!" 
 
 " Duchess, do let me "
 
 184 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " I 'm delighted to have you as a bogey. You 
 know, you're the bogey man to the people who 
 think that they should be my heirs. I 've been hear- 
 ing such strange things about your poor father. 7s 
 it true that his mind . . . you know . . . that this 
 giving away of money so recklessly is a sign of 
 softening of the brain. . . . That 's what they say. 
 At least, it 's softening of the heart. But, you know, 
 it should be stopped! I am very sorry for you and 
 Minnie. Don't you think he should be examined? 
 How much money has he given away within the last 
 month ? " 
 
 " Twenty-five thousand," said Monty. 
 
 " Good gracious ! It 's a mania. ... I am very 
 concerned about it. If that goes on you will need 
 every penny / can leave you, Monty. What does 
 poor Minnie say ? It 's not fair to her or to you. 
 Every one is talking about it. I had the Duke of 
 Berkshire here yesterday and his daughter Angela. 
 By the way, that would be a match for you. Tall, 
 good complexion, pretty mouth, a nice girl, soft eye- 
 lashes. If you were to marry her I might give her 
 my pearls. Do you know how many mothers come 
 sighing to me, and inquiring about you ? Lady West- 
 cott has just been here, and was asking what you are 
 doing, and was very inquisitive about how much 
 money your father may still be supposed to have. 
 ' Well,' I said to her, ' he can't give away the baron-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 185 
 
 etcy in charity. That 's one good thing.' What do 
 you think of Lady Angela Darsham? Or do you 
 think Miss Marston prettier ? " 
 
 "I never think of her at all," replied Monty. 
 " I 've come here with the most extraordinary 
 news " 
 
 " I 'm glad to hear it," said Arabella. " What is 
 it? I was just saying to Lady Westcott that if the 
 days go as slowly as they have been doing these last 
 weeks I '11 go to Cap Martin." 
 
 " Duchess," began Monty at last, and in a manner 
 which indicated that he meant to be listened to, 
 " it was you who did n't keep your promise to come to 
 Jellini's. I wish you had come ! " 
 
 " Of course, I was only joking. Tell me about 
 this new mad fad of Sir John. Is he going to teach 
 the canaillocratie to dance ? Oh, really, he ought to 
 be examined by some doctor. I 'm very vexed about 
 him. Who or what can ' Jellini ' be ? " 
 
 " It 's the best thing he has done," Monty replied 
 with increasing animation. " Oh, if you had only 
 been there, Duchess ! You would have seen someone 
 to interest you." 
 
 " Is it possible ? " asked Arabella, waiting for an 
 explanation. 
 
 She sat at one corner of the sofa and Monty 
 at the other, and while the latter spoke, the Dowager 
 raised her lorgnette and looked at him attentively.
 
 186 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " The loveliest creature you ever saw, Duchess. 
 You would n't have objected to me dancing with her. 
 You would have taken her home with you, if you 
 had known who she was, and she could have been 
 sitting here at this moment, and I believe it is to 
 her that you will give your pearls," said Monty. 
 " There 's Providence in it. Supposing I had gone 
 to the opera with you, I never could have seen her. 
 iWhat a thought ! But I picked her out of the rabble 
 for you, Duchess, and for myself." 
 
 " Who ? who ? " asked the Duchess, slightly per- 
 turbed. " I never knew that I had any friends in 
 the rabble " 
 
 " Your grand-niece." 
 
 " But I have none." 
 
 " Lord Swaffham's daughter," said Monty, with 
 his exciting and excited eyes fixed upon the old wo- 
 man. " I Ve come to ask you if you will recognise 
 her at once, if you will allow her to come here at once. 
 Think of it. She 's in a London cab-yard at this 
 moment ! " 
 
 " Here 's lightning out of the clouds," said the 
 Dowager. " But you 're mistaken. Never my niece. 
 How could that be ? She 's only my niece in a sort 
 of a way, a very disagreeable sort of a way. Oh 
 no! I could not recognise her. I had forgotten all 
 about that unfortunate. . . . Well. ... I never 
 expected that it would be you who would revive it. 
 I have nothing whatever to do with her."
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 187 
 
 Monty seemed crushed. In a moment the spirit 
 of badinage had vanished from the conversation. 
 A shrewd and contemptuous look appeared in the 
 eyes of the haughty old woman who drew herself 
 up and sat erect. 
 
 " Well, have you seen any of the new plays ? " 
 she asked with the most absolute indifference. 
 
 " Duchess," he replied a little coldly and severely, 
 " for the present I am much more interested in this 
 piece of living drama which I have stumbled upon. 
 Is it fair that this beautiful and accomplished girl 
 should be left unprotected in such surroundings? 
 By Heaven, no ! " 
 
 The raising of his voice and his look of earnest- 
 ness and scorn irritated the Dowager, who told him 
 not to be silly. 
 
 " She 's your grand-niece. Is it her fault if her 
 father " 
 
 " What is her name ? " 
 
 " They call her Dorothy Larkin." 
 
 " Humph," she said. " To be sure, I remember." 
 
 " Of course her real name should be Darsham. 
 Can you tell me anything about her father ? " 
 
 " Nothing whatever. Now, that is enough, Monty. 
 What have / to do with it? What claim has 
 she on me ? " asked the Dowager, with momentary 
 indignation. 
 
 " I am very disappointed," said the youth. " I 
 counted upon different sentiments from you. Why,
 
 188 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 a minute or two ago you said you liked people who 
 have warm hearts." 
 
 "What is she like?" 
 
 " They say," replied Monty, with a gleam of hope, 
 " that she 's like her mother. At first I thought her 
 eyes were dove grey, but I saw violet, too, in 
 them " 
 
 " Then she 's a Darsham," said Arabella, invol- 
 untarily, and then checked herself. 
 
 Monty was encouraged, however, and he began to 
 describe the scene with his father. 
 
 " Sir John was utterly right. I should have done 
 the same." 
 
 " I don't believe it. If you had seen her you 
 could n't have behaved so cruelly." 
 
 " Her hair ? " asked the Dowager. " The way she 
 carries herself ? Her general appearance ? And her 
 talk? A cab-yard, you said! Oh, I remember the 
 odious. . . . Impossible. . . . Don't say anything 
 more." 
 
 " Masses of burnished black hair. My father had 
 remarked her. So had Minnie. They both said she 
 was lovely. . . . There is nothing wrong with her 
 talk, but she is shy," said Monty. 
 
 "Is she tall?" 
 
 " Yes, and very graceful and a face " 
 
 " Fiddlesticks ! " retorted the Duchess. " I will 
 not see her, Monty," (pausing here to observe his
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 189 
 
 look of disgust) ; " I cannot be worried with it. 
 At my age, impossible. How could I be asked to 
 have her with me? And do you mean to tell me 
 that you have fallen in love with her? You will 
 ruin yourself. Who could receive her ? " 
 
 " You should receive her," replied Monty, angrily. 
 " Is it her fault that she 's a natural daughter ? " 
 
 " A natural daughter makes a somewhat unnatural 
 niece," retorted the Duchess. " She would be a 
 terror to me. What could I do with her ? How could 
 I explain her existence ? Bring back all that horrid 
 affair again ! Think of the talk ! " 
 
 " Yes," he said furiously. " Think of everything 
 except what is right and kind." 
 
 " I will not have any more of this," said the 
 Duchess, imperiously. " You are raking open an 
 old wound. It is inconsiderate of you, Monty. I 
 say, who will receive her ? She 's not like the children 
 of a left-hand marriage of royalty, and even they, 
 you know, find difficulties and are looked at askance. 
 The girl is probably very contented as she is. I 
 should be surprised if she even knows who her father 
 was. If I remember rightly But oh, I refuse to 
 remember at all " 
 
 " You will do nothing for her ? " asked Monty. 
 
 " Nothing," she replied. 
 
 " Then," he said, rising abruptly, " I suppose there 
 is little use in my remaining."
 
 190 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " I think that you have been rude, Marduke," 
 said the Dowager, while a flush overspread her face. 
 "You ought not to have come here to tell me what 
 I should or should not do. You have pained me " 
 (with a great shake of her curls). " I am agitated ! " 
 
 " I am sorry," said Monty, stiffly. " Very sorry 
 indeed." 
 
 " This is not like you," continued Arabella, re- 
 proachfully. "You have been most unfeeling and 
 unreasonable. Give me my smelling-bottle. . . . 
 Thank you. ... I am rather surprised. . . . What 
 have / to do with Lord Swaffham's disagreeable. . . . 
 Oh no. ... I won't even talk about it. ... Just 
 think of the years it would take to educate this this 
 person you seem to know to teach her even ele- 
 mentary manners, not to speak of grace and charm." 
 
 " Years don't seem to help very much in these 
 matters," replied Monty, while his eyes fixed them- 
 selves disdainfully upon her. 
 
 In an instant he had repented and was vexed at 
 his error; but at that moment he was too proud, 
 too enraged to ask to be forgiven. One look from 
 Arabella, and he knew that their friendship had been 
 suddenly killed. With a shaking hand the old woman 
 touched the bell which was fixed on the wall next 
 her. There was a brief silence which was then broken 
 by the Duchess Dowager, who said quietly 
 
 " As for my pearls, I never cast them before swine."
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 191 
 
 Even if Monty had had a reply ready there would 
 not have been time to make it because the door was 
 opened, and a footman entered. 
 
 " Show Mr. Marduke downstairs," said the 
 Dowager. 
 
 Monty made a very formal bow, and left the 
 room. As he crossed Grosvenor Square and felt 
 the fresh wind of the sparkling winter night upon 
 his face, he muttered 
 
 " The selfish old wretch ! "
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH 
 
 " ACH, ja ! " exclaimed Herr Habenichts, clinking 
 wine-glasses with Mr. Botolph. " De ancients had a 
 veeping philosopher, and a laughing philosopher, and 
 vy should not ve haf a dancing one? Your health, 
 Mr. Botolph!" 
 
 " Thank you. Yours," replied Mr. Botolph, rais- 
 ing his glass and addressing his friend in that gentle 
 and very courteous voice which made him a great 
 favourite at Mrs. Wix's. " And how is the dancing 
 going on ? " 
 
 "Vamously," said Herr Habenichts, sipping his 
 sherry and then unbuttoning his frock coat, and rub- 
 bing his hands with glee. " Ja, vat do it matter vat 
 ve do so long as ve keep ourselves gay ? I vish to 
 write another book on de real gay science, de science 
 of de rhythms of life, vor we can make music even 
 out of our cries and sorrows, as Heine says. Tance 
 vile it is day, Mr. Botolph." 
 
 " You seem to be in a very cheerful mood, Herr 
 Habenichts. It is most inspiring," observed Mr. 
 Botolph, while a faint smile lit up his refined fea- 
 tures, and a host of memories glimmered for a mo- 
 
 192
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 193 
 
 ment in his tired grey eyes. " You are a fortunate 
 man, sir, if your past life is not like a dragging, 
 ever-lengthening chain, the clanking chain which St. 
 Augustine speaks of, the chain which becomes heavier 
 and heavier until it coils back on you and perhaps 
 strangles you at last ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " said Herr Habenichts, looking gravely at 
 Mr. Botolph. " St. Augustine, did you say. Vot 
 a mind ! But he does n't say quite dat. He gives 
 more hope." 
 
 " Hope ? " repeated Mr. Botolph, with the slight 
 sigh which was characteristic of him. " Do you 
 know the most terrible line in English poetry ? " 
 
 " No," replied Herr Habenichts, bringing out his 
 pencil and note-book, and preparing to write down 
 the line. 
 
 ""T is hope is the most hopeless thing of all.' " 
 
 " No. I von't write it," said Herr Habenichts, 
 closing his note-book. " Vat a cynic he vas. Oh, 
 Mr. Botolph!" 
 
 Mr. Botolph seemed vexed that he had betrayed 
 any emotion. Usually, indeed, he was the most 
 reticent of men, but there was something in Herr 
 Habenichts which invited intimacy and disclosure. 
 Mr. Botolph had visited Vienna, and that fact was 
 the first link in their friendship. They gradually 
 discovered a similarity in matters of taste and in
 
 194: THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 their views of human experience. Both of them had 
 been bludgeoned and battered by the forces of life, 
 and as yet neither of them had succumbed. But it 
 was obvious that Herr Habenichts had the greater 
 chance of survival. Mr. Botolph looked upon him 
 with a kind of awe, and sometimes wondered if he 
 was only wearing a mask. Was he wrapping himself 
 in his philosophic cloak only as in a kind of fancy 
 costume and domino for the tragic dance of existence ? 
 Frequently, long after almost every Wixian was in 
 bed, Mr. Botolph and Herr Habenichts sat in the 
 smoking-room in deep conversation which was dis- 
 turbed only about midnight by the arrival of Swelling, 
 who, tired out by the day's exposure, and confessing 
 himself at a loss to understand what the two gentle- 
 men were talking about privately suspecting, in 
 fact, that they were both drunk yawned for a few 
 minutes in their company, and then said good-night. 
 Mr. Botolph had apparently no occupation. He spent 
 his day in reading the newspapers or writing in a 
 large manuscript book on which a padlock was fixed, 
 or in poring over certain large volumes on " The 
 History of Dancing," by Hans Habenichts. Very 
 often, too, Mr. Botolph took his daily walk up and 
 down the platforms of one or other of the three 
 great railway stations in the vicinity as if he expected 
 the arrival of a friend. But the friend did not 
 come. Mr. Botolph's shabby clothes and frayed linen
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 195 
 
 were incapable of concealing the fact that their owner 
 was a gentleman. His general appearance and his 
 manner of address caused all those who encountered 
 him to wonder what financial trouble, what specula- 
 tion gone wrong, had driven him to seek shelter under 
 the roof of Mrs. Wix. But, of course, his apparent 
 impecuniosity did not differentiate him from the 
 other boarders of whom the majority belonged to the 
 class of decayed gentlefolks. His height and his 
 manner of carrying himself, his well-shaped head, 
 slightly bent, his smooth silver-grey hair, the white- 
 ness of his hands and his thin fingers, and the sub- 
 dued pride of his face marked him off, however, 
 from other men. And at least Herr Habenichts 
 found pleasure in the company of one who, when he 
 chose to talk, generally talked well. 
 
 " Pray," said Mr. Botolph, attempting, but with- 
 out success, to efface any impression of personal 
 trouble which he might have made, " allow me to 
 offer my congratulations if something pleasant has 
 happened to you. What a delightful world this would 
 be, if health were as infectious as disease, and if 
 good fortune happened to be a contagious thing! 
 In that case, Herr Habenichts, I believe that you 
 would be in great request" 
 
 " Oh," cried Herr Habenichts, beginning to laugh, 
 " it 's only a leettle ting dat has made me happy. Do 
 you know Mr. Svevling ? "
 
 196 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 "Swefling?" repeated Mr. Botolph. 
 
 " De young man who alvays comes to de Sunday 
 supper and sometimes looks in here at night ven 
 you and I are talking togeder." 
 
 " Yes," replied Mr. Botolph. " I think you said 
 that he is a cabman." 
 
 " A nice young vellow. Only a cabman, but vat 
 of dat if he drives veil and is kind to his horse? 
 He and I had a misonderstanding. Oh, fery bad! 
 But now he onderstands, and we shook hands last 
 night ! " said Herr Habenichts, while his face beamed 
 on Mr. Botolph. 
 
 Mr. Botolph had too delicate a sense of what was 
 proper to ask any questions about the quarrel, and 
 Herr Habenichts was too honourable to divulge to 
 a stranger or to anyone the private affairs of Swef- 
 ling or of Marduke or of his pupil Dorothy. And 
 so, after Mr. Botolph had said simply " That 's 
 good," the conversation was shunted on to other lines, 
 until it travelled back to the question of gay and 
 gloomy temperaments. 
 
 " Perhaps," suggested Mr. Botolph, with a smile, 
 " you have an excellent digestion, Herr Habenichts ? " 
 
 " But," replied Herr Habenichts, "dat must be true 
 of us both, since ve stop so long here and are not 
 avraid of de cuisine of Mrs. Vix ! " 
 
 It was one of Mr. Botolph's peculiarities that he 
 always carried a railway time-table, and, in fact,
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 197 
 
 Bradshaw was at that moment lying upon his knee. 
 He excused himself to Herr Habenichts, and said 
 that he desired to consult it. After he had turned 
 over the pages dealing with steamship sailings and 
 the railway connections therewith, he closed the 
 book, clasped it in his hands, and then lay back in 
 his chair. Meanwhile Herr Habenichts was reading 
 Les Trophees, and had become oblivious to his sur- 
 roundings. Suddenly Mr. Botolph was heard mut- 
 tering to himself, but Herr Habenichts, who was 
 familiar with this singular habit of his friend and 
 sometimes indulged in it himself, paid no attention. 
 
 " The good ship," Mr. Botolph was muttering, 
 "did not go down with all on board. Great God, 
 not all! Some were, perhaps, saved and among 
 them why should I not hope ? " 
 
 Then he rose as if in haste, and a look of great 
 expectancy and a smile of anticipation of something 
 delightful shone about his face. 
 
 " Herr Habenichts, I am just going across to 
 Euston to meet the 6.10. I think that my son will 
 be in that train, from Liverpool, you know, where he 
 very likely landed this morning," said Mr. Botolph, 
 and hurried out of the room to run over to Euston as 
 he had run many a time during the last two and a 
 half years. 
 
 " Ach, ja, poor Mr. Botolph ! " exclaimed Herr 
 Habenichts. " Vat can be done ? It is impossible
 
 198 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 to persvade him dat his son vas drowned, and dere 
 he goes again, expecting to see de dear boy running 
 into his arms. Mein Gott ! Mein Gott ! " 
 
 Thus in spite of himself Herr Habenichts was 
 drawn back to the contemplation of graver matters. 
 But the truth is that his high spirits were more 
 apparent than real, and that on that particular day 
 he had premonitions of trouble. To begin with, 
 he had had a trying scene with his porter Ridpath. 
 In order to placate his own outraged sense of authority 
 and in fulfilment of his promise to Monty Marduke, 
 he had decided to dismiss Ridpath on account of 
 disobedience. During the interview between master 
 and servant, however, the magnanimity of Herr 
 Habenichts threatened to betray him into weakness. 
 He was a man who found it difficult to inflict pain 
 or even to pronounce harsh words. If, for example, 
 he had, in a moment of impatience, spoken a rough 
 word to a backward pupil, he was certain to have a 
 sleepless night. And although next day he did not 
 formally apologise, since that course would be bad 
 for discipline, he gave special encouragement to the 
 pupil whom, as he feared, he might have discouraged 
 at the previous lesson. His theory of education was 
 based on the principle of the cultivation of plants. 
 Rough treatment of any plant, if prolonged, will 
 ultimately ruin it. And he pointed out that as gar- 
 deners are usually mild and patient men, so the ex-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 199 
 
 pert in this more subtle spiritual horticulture, the 
 gardener of the soul, should have a benign mind and 
 merciful hands. His own treatment of Eidpath had 
 been typical of his belief in the regenerative power 
 of character. The fact that Ridpath had been a 
 thief did, it must be admitted, cause much searching 
 of heart to Herr Habenichts when he thought of the 
 cloakrooms and umbrella-stands at Jellini's. And 
 he often wondered with vexation if, in employing 
 such a man, he was rightly considering his pupils' 
 interests. But, happily, Ridpath appeared to be 
 reformed and transformed. Not an article had been 
 stolen. The rooms were kept in the most perfect 
 order, and, indeed, Herr Habenichts considered his 
 porter to be a shining vindication of his trust in 
 human nature. Therefore, he was the more displeased 
 and shocked when he discovered that Ridpath had 
 been guilty of gross disobedience, and, besides, of 
 gross insolence towards the son of the patron of 
 Jellini's. A mere reproof would be an insufficient 
 punishment for such a betrayal. Assuming, there- 
 fore, as stern a look as possible, Herr Habenichts 
 paid a surprise visit to the Academy, and found Rid- 
 path in shirt-sleeves, diligently sweeping the floor 
 of the smaller dancing-room. 
 
 "Sich a dust them young misses and gents kicks 
 up ! " said Ridpath, greeting his employer. " Wy, 
 I 'm blowed, if this ain't the Sahara."
 
 200 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 Herr Habenichts said " Good morning " de- 
 murely, and went to the corner where the piano stood. 
 Here he picked up a fiddle-bow which one of the 
 musicians had left behind. Then he walked up and 
 down the room, beating time with the fiddle-bow 
 amid the clouds of dust, and endeavoring to induce 
 a severe and hectoring mood. Suddenly he stopped, 
 turned round, and without warning informed Rid- 
 path that his services were no longer required at 
 Jellini's. 
 
 " I '11 be shot ! " exclaimed Ridpath, letting his 
 brush fall flat before him. " If this ain't a piece of 
 news, I'm jiggered. Wot for?" 
 
 " You disobeyed me ! " said Herr Habenichts, turn- 
 ing red in the face and actually looking fierce. " I 
 vill not haf it! You wrote dat letter to de patron's 
 son, and you are a villain. Dat 's vot you are, a 
 scoundrel. Here are your vages, and go avay." 
 
 " I 'm blowed if this ain't reel crull," replied 
 Ridpath, excitedly, as he stared down at his master, 
 who held out two sovereigns. " All along of that 
 screwy cove Swefling. Wot 's 'e or 'is darned sweet- 
 heartin' to me, I 'd jist like to know ? Let every 
 one look sharp arter hisself, that 's wot I hollars out." 
 
 " Put on your jacket and go quietly avay," sug- 
 gested Herr Habenichts, still extending his hand with 
 the wages between his thumb and his forefinger. 
 " Take your vages."
 
 201 
 
 " Ain't I been a good sarvint ? " 
 
 " And haf I not been a goot master ? " demanded 
 Herr Habenichts. 
 
 " You 'ave, sir. The wery best. O my day- 
 lights, you've put me out o' curl by this suddent 
 goin' on of yourn. I says you 're the wery best 
 master a feller like me, wot was born without a shirt 
 on 'is back, could find. You 're a respeckabel ole 
 gent wot took me off the streets' wen I was out on 
 the nick and 'ad n't a keracter. And now all along 
 of that blastit cabby I Ve got the sack, 'ave I ? Wy, 
 I was jist sayin' to a pal yest'day that you 're the 
 decentest ole gent I 've knowed, even though you is a 
 German." 
 
 " I 'm vrom Vienna," said Herr Habenichts, 
 angrily. 
 
 " I knows," said Ridpath, " and as I says to my 
 pal, "E 's a good sort is 'Err 'Abenicks, and 'e 's 
 treated me jist as if he was my nunky, for 'e 's been 
 my salwation.' It 's true, and yet it 's sich an idear! 
 I could die larfin'. For though yer a dancin' master 
 yev been my salwation jist every bit as good 's the 
 Salwation Army, 'Err 'Abenicks. It was yer kind- 
 ness that did the trick, for yer treats me like a 
 gen'leman." 
 
 Herr Habenichts was discomfited, and he turned 
 round, and stared at the opposite wall. 
 
 " It is fery painful," he exclaimed helplessly; " but 
 go avay ! "
 
 202 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " Before I knowed you," continued Ridpath, ad- 
 dressing his master's back, " I allus liked a rovin' 
 life, and longed to shake a loose leg. I was fly to 
 the dodge, and was out on the pinch all day, a riglar 
 bad hook, and then I meets you, 'Err 'Abenicks, and 
 got the straight tip." 
 
 " I haf given you ten shillings extra," said Herr 
 Habenichts, turning half round and holding out the 
 wages again. 
 
 " I take my affidavy it 's juiced 'ard on a feller, 
 and all along of that scaly Swefling. I won't take 
 them quids, 'Err 'Abenicks, and so jist drop yer 
 harm, or you'll tire it no end. I ax yer pardin. 
 I '11 knuckle down fair and no funkin'." 
 
 " I vish no one to knuckle down to me. I only 
 vish justice. Dere is a fool porn every minute, and 
 you are one," said Herr Habenichts, flourishing the 
 fiddle-bow in an authoritative manner. 
 
 " It 's hup with yer humbereller wen the rain conies 
 down," exclaimed Ridpath, lifting the fallen brush. 
 " And so it 's no gammon ? I Ve got to go ? Well, 
 I never knowed who was my father or mother either. 
 I was jist chucked on the streets as you chuck waste- 
 paper in the gutter. I remembers wen I used to 
 sleep on the hembankment chitterin' the whole blessed 
 night, and dreamin' I was dyin' of starwation. You 
 knows, 'Err 'Abenicks, that 's wot the wery poor often 
 dreams. But I Ve lamed wot short grub means, and
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 203 
 
 I can lam it again. I 'm weak in the back, and so 
 I 'd sooner sweep than shovel. I s'pose I can sweep 
 the streets again jist the same as this dancin' floor. 
 O Lor* ! It 's come so suddent. It makes a feller 
 see stars. I thinks I 've got the trick, though. I 
 knowed a man wot done fairly decent in the 
 rag-and-bottle line. It 's nuffin' to me who 's king. 
 It don't take my attention. There'll be no change 
 for me in this world. I '11 start a rag-and-bottle 
 store. I 'm no scholard, and so I thanks you 
 quite short for wot you done for me. Good-bye, 
 'Err 'Abenicks, and s'pose you needs any rags or 
 bottles " 
 
 " Are you fery sorry ? " asked Herr Habenichts, 
 appalled at Ridpath's distressed appearance. 
 
 " In course, I 'm sorry," replied Ridpath. " Ain't 
 that wot I 've been sayin' ? " 
 
 With the intention either of making a display of 
 his authority and avenging it, or of relieving his 
 own confused feelings, Herr Habenichts approached 
 his servant in a very threatening attitude. Then he 
 raised the fiddle-bow like a rod of correction, and 
 broke it across Ridpath's back. 
 
 " Dere now," he exclaimed, " I haf punished you. 
 It is vinished ! " 
 
 " That 's Persimmon ; that 's real jam. And now 
 we 're quits," said Ridpath, and continued sweeping, 
 while Herr Habenichts, thoroughly satisfied with the
 
 204 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 result of the court-martial, went to a violin seller 
 and bought a new fiddle-bow. 
 
 Thus, during Mr. Botolph's absence at Euston 
 Station, Herr Habenichts, as he sat in the sombre 
 twilight of Mrs. Wix's parlour, was able to reflect 
 upon the surprising events of the last few days. Al- 
 though he was pleased that he had not parted with 
 Ridpath, and that he had cleared up the misunder- 
 standing with Swefling, he felt slightly uneasy. He 
 was surprised, for instance, that Dorothy had not 
 visited Jellini's for her Tuesday lesson, and his re- 
 cent encounter with Mrs. Bleeks made him fear that 
 there was trouble in Larkin's yard. Then, since that 
 trouble was doubtless caused by Monty Marduke, 
 what, thought Herr Habenichts, can that headstrong 
 young man be doing ? It was time to inform him of 
 what had happened to the box of sweets, and since 
 forty-eight hours and more had passed since Herr 
 Habenichts had undertaken the commission, it was 
 strange that Marduke had made no inquiries. Herr 
 Habenichts decided to write to him at once, and to 
 take the opportunity of warning him not to persist 
 in his pursuit of a pupil whom her master still re- 
 garded as the future Mrs. Richard Swefling. He had 
 risen for the purpose of going to the writing-table 
 when he heard the knocker on the front door being 
 loudly sounded. He knew the postman's character- 
 istic rat-tat, and he was not deceived, because pres-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 205 
 
 ently Wurm entered with two letters. On one of 
 the envelopes the address was typewritten. It looked 
 business, and Herr Habenichts put on his spectacles, 
 and placed himself immediately under the incan- 
 descent gas bracket which Wurm had lit. But he 
 was very shocked to find that the letter came from 
 Sir John Marduke's solicitors, who announced that 
 " for reasons which Mr. Habenichts no doubt per- 
 fectly understood," their client had withdrawn his 
 patronage from " The Original Jellini Academy of 
 Dancing," and now forbade the use of his name in 
 any connection whatever therewith. Moreover, acting 
 upon the instructions of Sir John Marduke, they now 
 called up the loan which their client had been pleased 
 to grant to Mr. Habenichts. The concluding para- 
 graph contained two statements: item that Sir John 
 Marduke waived his claim for interest on the said 
 loan, and item that in case the debtor might, owing 
 to this sudden demand, find himself in difficulty, a 
 delay of three months would be granted for the re- 
 payment of the loan. Herr Habenichts felt as if 
 he were being throttled. He had received a severe 
 shock, and in the violent glare of the incandescent 
 gas he looked livid. Having readjusted his spec- 
 tacles, he re-read the letter, groaning. Then he sank 
 down on a chair and collapsed. 
 
 " Ach ja ! " he murmured, " I velt it vos to come. 
 All becose of dat blessed Dorrie and de boy ! "
 
 206 THE OLD DANCE MASTEE 
 
 After a few moments, however, his decision was 
 made. He would not accept the slight alleviation 
 promised in the last paragraph of the letter. His 
 pride compelled him to repay the loan immediately 
 and with interest, even although no interest was de- 
 manded. But, then, what would be left in the bank ? 
 Ever since that loan had been obtained he had paid 
 interest to Sir John Marduke with the most ad- 
 mirable punctuality. And, it ought to be said, that 
 if Monty's unfortunate indiscretion at the pupils' 
 ball had not taken place, the baronet would have 
 waived the loan altogether. But a great revulsion 
 of feeling had occurred, and Herr Habenichts would 
 require to suffer for the folly of his patron's son. 
 It was thanks to Sir John Marduke that he had been 
 able to liquidate the debt which had threatened Jel- 
 lini's with extinction. But he had paid his creditors 
 far sooner than was stipulated by the arrangement 
 which he had made with them. Eager to be free and 
 too honourable to hoard money which properly be- 
 longed to other people, he had left nothing for himself. 
 The fees had been spent. Now, the quarterly rent 
 of the rooms would be shortly due, and if Sir John 
 Marduke were to be reimbursed Herr Habenichts 
 would find himself face to face with a lamentable 
 deficit. In great excitement he calculated that after 
 repayment of the loan he would be left with little 
 more than twenty pounds in the world. He picked
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 207 
 
 up the other letter, which contained news not fitted 
 to assuage this wound which he had received. It 
 was from Sam Larkin, who, in vigorous if somewhat 
 inelegant English, stated that Dorothy would never 
 put her foot within Jellini's again, that this was her 
 own decision, and that she deeply regretted ever to 
 have come under Herr Habenichts' influence. 
 
 " Vat haf I done ? " exclaimed Herr Habenichts 
 in despair, as he stared round the room. " I haf 
 done noting wrong to anyone. I vished de fery best 
 vor dem all ! " 
 
 At that moment Mr. Botolph re-entered the room. 
 He was looking ill and exhausted, and he gave Herr 
 Habenichts a strange glance as he sat down opposite 
 him. This periodical return from a fruitless quest 
 was always a sad spectacle, and Herr Habenichts 
 was at a loss to know how to comfort Mr. Botolph. 
 He had been almost ashamed of his own high spirits 
 and the merry mood of half an hour ago. For a 
 few moments Mr. Botolph remained silent, and his 
 eyes had a trance-like appearance. Then he began 
 his soft whispers again. 
 
 " The good ship did not go down with all on 
 board ! It was the South Atlantic, wreckage was seen 
 and the name Morning Star on a piece of white painted 
 wood. . . . The sea is a very rough nurse of ships! 
 . . . You know," (addressing Herr Habenichts,) "at 
 Euston I saw fathers and mothers embracing their sons
 
 208 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 who had come from long voyages ... a beautiful 
 sight. . . . My boy was not there." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Botolph," cried Herr Habenichts, rising 
 and taking his friend's hand, "vat can I do vor 
 you?" 
 
 Mr. Botolph smiled faintly and thanked him. 
 
 " I think he means to give me a great surprise," 
 he said. " He will not announce himself. He will 
 come suddenly, and wishes to make my joy perfectly 
 delirious ! " 
 
 " We are broders in trouble," said Herr Habenichts. 
 
 " Ah," replied Mr. Botolph, " I should think with 
 your temperament trouble does not trouble you 
 much." 
 
 Herr Habenichts then explained with many ges- 
 tures what had happened to him, but he concluded 
 with the cheerful declaration that he would face 
 poverty again with all the courage at his command. 
 
 " And I think that you can command a great deal," 
 said Mr. Botolph, who had listened with anxious 
 sympathy. "Count upon me for some little help. 
 Of course, it must be very little, because I also am 
 shockingly poor." 
 
 " Ich danke bestens ! " replied Herr Habenichts ; 
 " but I von't be beaten. Nein, nein ! I '11 vind a new 
 vay of life. I am sorry to close Jellini's becos it gave 
 me a living and leisure to read books, and I loved 
 all de pupils. So poor Ridpath too vill lose de place
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 209 
 
 after all. De storm comes on again. De vind blows ! 
 I know all de four vinds of dis vorld, I haf velt 
 dem all. Ah, Mr. Botolph, if de vorst comes and de 
 bailiff seize all my tings at Jellini's, I vill ask you 
 to buy back de statue of Terpsichore. She look down 
 so mild-eyed and happy. I cannot give her avay! 
 She is de symbol of de rythym of life and de beau- 
 tiful tances." 
 
 Mr. Botolph promised to rescue Terpsichore from 
 the bailiff. 
 
 " And now," added Herr Habenichts, " vat can 
 do us harm in dis vorld ? Noting. De light affliction 
 is but vor a moment. Even in de shackles de spirit 
 keeps dancing. But I am avraid of one ting. Say 
 noting about my troubles to Mrs. Vix ! She turn me 
 out. I haf got used to dis house. It is my home. 
 Ah, say noting to Mrs. Vix! I am never avraid of 
 males, but only of vemales, and Mrs. Vix is a 
 vixen ! " 
 
 Mr. Botolph smiled, and promised to say nothing 
 to Mrs. Wix. 
 
 " We are both bankrupt men," he eaid. " I have 
 never told you my history, Herr Habenichts." 
 
 " No," replied Herr Habenichts ; " and I vould like 
 to hear it." 
 
 " I had eighty thousand pounds," said Mr. Bo- 
 tolph. 
 But in the same moment Wurm began to strike the
 
 210 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 terrible dinner gong. Mr. Botolph ceased speaking, 
 and stopped his ears. When the noise had passed 
 he promised to unfold on another occasion as much 
 of his history as might interest Herr Habenichts. 
 And so they both went to join Mrs. Wix at dinner.
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH 
 
 MBS. Wrx was a woman of many inconsistencies, but 
 she rather seemed to rejoice in the contradictions 
 which she discovered in her own character. It was 
 possible for her to provide a Christmas dinner which 
 might be truthfully described as a scandal, and never- 
 theless to surprise her boarders with a very creditable 
 repast in the second week of January. This alternate 
 starvation and repletion was named by Herr Habe- 
 nichts " Ramazan " and " Bairam " ; but no one un- 
 derstood him except Mr. Botolph who had travelled 
 in the lands of Islam. And, on the whole, Mr. Bo- 
 tolph preferred the Wixian fast to the Wixian feast. 
 Not so hia vivacious friend, who, like Dr. Johnson, 
 was not ashamed to confess that he enjoyed the pleas- 
 ures of good eating. Herr Habenichts consulted Mrs. 
 Wix's menu as if it had been a weather chart, and 
 waited anxiously for the moment when it promised 
 to be very fair. 
 
 " Sossiges ? Did you say sossiges, sir ? " she once 
 asked him sharply. 
 
 211
 
 212 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " Dat 's so. I said sossiges, Madame," he replied, 
 looking straight at her, and allowing a smile to eddy 
 about his broad, bland face. 
 
 " There 's no sossiges. We never keeps them mys- 
 tery-bags. I once gave 'em, and two of the boarders 
 died of typhus, and we had the inspector twice a 
 week for three months. No, thank ye," said Mrs. 
 Wix, tossing her head and rolling her eyes, " no more 
 mystery-bags. So you '11 have to go without or take 
 cold ham." 
 
 She feared his hearty appetite, and that was why 
 she always made him sit at her right hand. She like- 
 wise forbade him to speak German in case the sound 
 of that language might offend his fellow boarders. 
 In fact, Mr. Snape, the dentist, who sat at her left, 
 and Mr. Coon, the journalist, who was Mr. Snape's 
 neighbour, both intimated that unless English were 
 spoken at table they would seek board and lodging 
 elsewhere. Now there was nothing which vexed Herr 
 Habenichts so much as to be compelled to eat a meal 
 in silence. And, therefore, he cheerfully chatted in 
 such English as he could command, and was not 
 afraid to cross swords in that tongue even with Mr. 
 Coon. Whether, as he declared, there was something 
 Dionysian, Rabelaisian in Mrs. Wix, or whether she 
 feared that the frequent penury of her bill of fare 
 might drive away those of her clients who did not re- 
 quire to eat and sleep on credit, the fact remains that
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 213 
 
 she displayed now and again the strangest outbursts 
 of liberality, and that on such occasions her menu al- 
 ways became more interesting. Herr Habenichts pre- 
 ferred to believe that behind her formidable exterior 
 she nursed and nourished a desire for periodic expan- 
 sion, good cheer, and revelry. His surmise was cor- 
 rect. Mrs. Wix might shed tears of rage over her 
 butcher's book and her baker's bill, and might refer 
 contemptuously to those whom Providence sent her 
 from the four winds as " caterpillars " and " locusts," 
 but she declared that it was not in her nature to starve 
 them, and the occasional eruptions of her generosity 
 were admitted to compensate for the lean days of her 
 catering. 
 
 " You made an observation about roast turkey ? " 
 whispered Mr. Botolph to Herr Habenichts, as they 
 walked towards the dining-room. 
 
 " I smell de stuffing," said Herr Habenichts, 
 sniffing and sifting the vapours of rich and unex- 
 pected savour which met his nose in the lobby near 
 the pantry door. "Look! By de statue of Terpsi- 
 chore, I see tree great turkeys in dere ! She 's got 
 dem cheap, Christmas remnants ! " 
 
 There was an unusual stir in the passages, the staff 
 of servants seemed to have been augmented, and a 
 great clatter of dishes and the noise of cutlery, to- 
 gether with the scurrying hither and thither of Wurm 
 and his subordinates, indicated some extraordinary
 
 214 THE OLD DANCE MASTEE 
 
 event, and Herr Habenichts was impatient to reach 
 the dining-room. 
 
 " Bless the man ! " murmured Mr. Botolph, limp- 
 ing after him, " the thought of a full meal makes him 
 forget that he is ruined." 
 
 Polly Wix in a new pink frock was descending the 
 stair. 
 
 " Vat is on to-night, Miss Polly ? " asked Herr 
 Habenichts eagerly, as he waited to let her pass. 
 
 But Polly only smiled and hurried on before them. 
 
 " It 's Bairam," said Herr Habenichts, nudging 
 Mr. Botolph. " Call me a liar, but dis is de perfum 
 of ox-tail soup ! " 
 
 There were three tables that night, and they were 
 all full. At the head of the first sat Mrs. Wix in 
 a loud green dress with a low bodice, and she had 
 green ribbons in her blond hair, and a paste star. Her 
 rotund shoulders moved slowly up and down like mas- 
 sive machinery as her bosom heaved. There must have 
 been at least two drops of the tincture of belladonna 
 in each eye, because the pupils were extraordinarily 
 enlarged, and were very blue. Years ago her silver 
 bangles had been sent to be gilded, and now they 
 shone like good yellow gold. What with the anxie- 
 ties of the preparation for this dinner, her determina- 
 tion to keep it a secret till the last moment, her joy 
 in surprising her detractors and grumblers with a 
 sudden view of her magnificence, Mrs. Wix sat visibly
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 215 
 
 excited, although triumphant. Her glance at the 
 impoverished Lady Epworth was as penetrating as the 
 glance of Saint Simon at any of the courtiers of Louis 
 le Grand. She beckoned Herr Habenichts, who, fol- 
 lowed by Mr. Botolph, advanced in astonishment to 
 fill the vacant places on her right. 
 
 " Vy, dis is a gala night, Mrs. Vix ! " exclaimed 
 Herr Habenichts, and then he looked across for en- 
 lightenment towards the bald Mr. Snape, who grinned 
 pensively. " Dem tree tables, de viewers, de lights, 
 pretty candle-shades and crackers ! Vat is it ? " 
 
 "It's my birthday," said Mrs. Wix: "I'm fifty 
 to-day " (she was fifty-five). " I 'm a jubilee." 
 
 Herr Habenichts offered his congratulations, and 
 as the news that it was Mrs. Wix's birthday spread 
 to the other two tables, at one of which Polly pre- 
 sided, all heads except Lady Epworth's and a Mrs. 
 Mepham's were dutifully turned, as in a hive, towards 
 the queen bee. Mrs. Wix bowed. We are hardly 
 concerned, however, with her other boarders, and it 
 is sufficient to give the plan of her own table, which 
 was as follows : 
 
 Mrs. Wix. 
 
 Herr Habenichts. 
 Mr. Botolph. 
 Mrs. Mepham. 
 Mr. Pumpherston. 
 
 Mr. Snape. 
 Mr. Coon. 
 Mrs. Coon. 
 Lady Epworth. 
 
 Sir Sam Epworth.
 
 216 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 Mrs. Wix declared that she had only one regret, 
 which was that the ladies and gentlemen were not 
 placed alternately, but she hoped that they would 
 nevertheless enjoy themselves, and then she called for 
 wine. 
 
 ]STow it was wine which had ruined Sir Samuel 
 Epworth and had brought him to poverty and Mrs. 
 Wix. There he sat with his eyes staring like empty 
 wine-glasses, from which the liquid life and glow had 
 long departed. The twitching of his lips, the swaying 
 of his head, which moved mechanically from side to 
 side like the movable heads of porcelain figures when 
 they are shaken, and the tremor in his hands all be- 
 trayed the reason why he had become prematurely 
 frail, and Lady Epworth prematurely faded. Owing 
 to his neglect of his fortune it had been lost long ago, 
 and they were living on the remnants and scraps of it. 
 The one power which now regulated Sir Samuel's life 
 was his wife's frown or else her forefinger when it 
 was raised in admonition. She seldom allowed him to 
 remain long out of her sight, and she used to trudge 
 miles through the London streets in all kinds of 
 weather in order to save him from the old temptation. 
 He had taken the pledge, and she had caused him pub- 
 licly to avow that it had been his salvation, but she 
 never trusted him. He had often rebelled, and had 
 refused to be led about like a dog on a string. But he 
 now depended upon her for everything, and had grown
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 217 
 
 quiescent, for she was the lever that controlled his 
 volition. His mind was generally vacant, except 
 when filled by a panorama of reproachful memories. 
 But he had still a strange longing, hot and persistent, 
 for something which would kill and satiate his de- 
 vouring thirst. His wife, who was as thin as a 
 shadow, and seemed more like a disembodied being 
 than a creature of blood and flesh, was glad that Prov- 
 idence had supplied them with two helpful fellow 
 boarders in the persons of Mr. Pumpherston and his 
 widowed sister, Mrs. Mepham. Wine had also 
 ruined them, but for a wholly different reason. Mr. 
 Pumpherston had been a temperance candidate for 
 Parliament. Seven times he had attempted to enter 
 the House of Commons, intent on the abolition of 
 the manufacture and sale of drinks, and seven times 
 he had failed. That he had not made an eighth as- 
 sault was due to the fact that his resources and those 
 of Mrs. Mepham had been already consumed in the 
 holy war. Their poverty justified them in regard- 
 ing themselves as genuine martyrs. If there was 
 any wavering in the combat, it was not on the part 
 of Mrs. Mepham, who was a furious zealot, but on 
 the part of her brother, whose throat had become dry 
 by much speaking. Moreover, Mr. Pumpherston's 
 doctor, alarmed at his patient's exhausted condi- 
 tion, advised the moderate use of whisky as a medi- 
 cine. At first Mr. Pumpherston, who was a long,
 
 218 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 gaunt man, repudiated the suggestion with such en- 
 ergy as was left him. Gradually, however, the low 
 tide of his animal powers made him wonder whether 
 it would be wise to resist, and whether Mrs. Mepham 
 was not a bigot. He timidly hinted that the doc- 
 tor had recommended a little alcohol " just as a 
 medicine, a stimulant for weakened nerves." But 
 Mrs. Mepham declared that she could not believe 
 her ears, and looked with pained surprise upon her 
 brother. Was lie, the champion of such a cause, 
 actually going to dally and dawdle with the enemy, 
 and bring his own career to ridicule ? 
 
 " No, no, Mary," he replied, with slight irritation, 
 " it 's the doctor's idea. I never thought of it first. 
 Never believe that ! " 
 
 A continued loss of vitality, however, ultimately 
 weakened his resolve, and in desperation for a re- 
 newal of his old fury and energy, he was compelled 
 secretly to obey his doctor's injunction. He was con- 
 scious that that injunction brought him pleasure. 
 He was surprised to find that judicious sips of the 
 forbidden liquor in which he indulged even more 
 frequently than had been prescribed, had the happy 
 knack of restoring his animation. This lapse, how- 
 ever, resulted in severely shaking the crusader's faith 
 in all his past propaganda. For he asked himself if, 
 after all, greater wisdom and self-control were not 
 displayed in the moderate use of the gifts of Nature.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 219 
 
 He attended fewer meetings. A furtive and hunted 
 look began to appear in his countenance. Like Mr. 
 Snape, Mr. Pumpherston was bald, but his head was 
 longer and narrower, and instead of being clean 
 shaven he had a drooping and sorrowful brownish 
 moustache, which had somehow the appearance of 
 receiving daily castigation. Between him and Sir 
 Samuel Epworth there was a secret bond of sympathy. 
 Each divined the other's thoughts. It must have been 
 some lingering roguishness in Sir Samuel which 
 made him desire to seduce Mr. Pumpherston, and to 
 cause him to apostatise. Mr. Pumpherston's case 
 interested him, for Sir Samuel suspected that it was 
 now the case of a hypocrite. Mr. Pumpherston 
 had admitted that he had suffered all the pains of 
 abstinence. 
 
 " And they are pains, Sir Samuel," he added ; 
 " but I endure them for the sake of my fellow-men, 
 such as you." 
 
 " Ah," said Sir Samuel, desiring to kick him, but 
 not openly resenting the insult, " if it were n't for 
 our women, your sister and my wife, you and I might 
 have some happy hours together. I don't like your 
 lonely, secret drinkers. Give me a company of good 
 fellows like old Habenichts. Why, if I only dared I 
 would join him and Mr. Botolph at their beer every 
 night. These fellows can sleep, whereas I can't get 
 a wink. What 's the best nightcap ? "
 
 220 
 
 " I can't deny it, it is toddy," whispered Mr. 
 Pumpherston, and blushed. 
 
 With his large eyes, in which the light of fanati- 
 cism, if it had ever really dawned there, was steadily 
 dying, Mr. Pumpherston looked significantly at his 
 friend, and proposed a walk. Sir Samuel rose to his 
 feet in an instant, and clutched his hat, and then ac- 
 companied Mr. Pumpherston out of Fashion Row in 
 the direction of Euston. Where they went will prob- 
 ably never be known, but it was ascertained that when 
 they returned they were both smelling of peppermint. 
 
 But Sir Samuel and Mr. Pumpherston had one 
 other better opportunity of becoming thoroughly 
 acquainted with each other A series of great tem- 
 perance meetings had been arranged in Yorkshire, 
 and Mr. Pumpherston was to be the principal 
 speaker. His doctor, however, absolutely refused to 
 allow him to go, and the disappointment was, per- 
 haps, not as great as Mrs. Mepham supposed it to be. 
 She offered to represent her brother, and she begged 
 Lady Epworth, who was also deeply interested in 
 abolition, to accompany her. Mr. Pumpherston 
 thought that the proposal was admirable, and urged 
 Lady Epworth to go. But she hesitated. Sir Samuel 
 would not agree to exhibit himself any more upon the 
 platform as a reformed drunkard, and Lady Ep- 
 worth was afraid to leave him behind. Mr. Pum- 
 pherston promised to look after him and Lady Ep-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 221 
 
 worth was at length convinced that her husband 
 could not be in safer hands. She therefore consented 
 to set out for Yorkshire with Mrs. Mepham, and it 
 was understood that they would be absent for three 
 nights. On one of those nights Mr. Pumpherston 
 invited Sir Samuel into his bedroom for a smoke 
 and chat. 
 
 " Hullo, Pumpherston," said Sir Samuel. " How 
 are you feeling ? I wish 7 were a bachelor." 
 
 " Well, of course, I am still suffering from over- 
 work. Those speeches, you know ! The last election 
 almost killed me," replied Pumpherston, inviting his 
 guest to take a seat. 
 
 " You are pale," said Sir Samuel. " Who but a 
 fool can deny that there is some justification in using 
 liquor very cautiously as a medicine ? " 
 
 " I hope you remember," remarked Mr. Pumpher- 
 ston, " that it was only for that reason that I con- 
 sented to touch it the other day ? " 
 
 " Of course," said Sir Samuel. " Mum 's the 
 word. You 're safe with me. / 'II not tell anyone." 
 
 Two bottles and two glasses were standing on the 
 table, and Sir Samuel looked at them. 
 
 " I defy anyone," exclaimed Mr. Pumpherston, 
 in an attitude of self-justification, " to go on working 
 as I have done without some kind of stimulant." 
 
 " What 's this ? " asked Sir Samuel, taking up one 
 of the bottles.
 
 222 THE OLD DANCE MASTEE 
 
 "Kaspberry vinegar/' said Mr. Pumpherston. 
 
 " What can that do for us ? " asked Sir Samuel. 
 
 " It makes me sick," replied Mr. Pumpherston. 
 " But what choice is there ? There 's apple drink, 
 gooseberry water, lemon milk they 're all pretty 
 much alike. Do you know the ' Book of 100 Aqueous 
 Beverages ' ? " 
 
 " It 's my wife's Bible," replied Sir Samuel. 
 
 " It 's Mrs. Mepham's Catechism," said Mr. 
 Pumpherston. 
 
 " I m afraid," continued Sir Samuel, " that the 
 temperance drinks spoil one here, you know " (tap- 
 ping his stomach). " I 'm saturated with them. My 
 wife's great favourite is cherry water. As for me, I 
 would as soon drink rain-water. Well, Pumpherston, 
 we 've made a good many speeches together, but I 'm 
 sick of being shown off as a reformed or deformed 
 drunkard." 
 
 " We have drunk a good deal of lemonade together, 
 Sir Samuel," observed Mr. Pumpherston. 
 
 " Fathoms ! " said Sir Samuel, taking up the second 
 bottle. "What's this?" 
 
 " That 's whisky," replied Mr. Pumpherston. 
 
 Sir Samuel started back, and then burst out 
 laughing. 
 
 "I am feeling very unwell," said Mr. Pumpher- 
 ston. " I have my doctor's certificate. It is he who 
 is urging me, imploring me. I almost fainted before
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 223 
 
 you came in, Sir Samuel. Don't smile. It is sober 
 truth." 
 
 " Oh, Pumpherston," cried Sir Samuel, " this is 
 good ! Sober truth 's all very well, but tipsy truth 
 is even more amusing ! And so you 're at it 
 again ? " 
 
 " It is a medicine," said Mr. Pumpherston, finger- 
 ing the whisky bottle. " I hope you understand." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," replied Sir Samuel, with 
 his sides shaking and his head and hands and 
 everything about him in motion. " Look at me, 
 Pumpherston." 
 
 " Yes, Sir Samuel," said Mr. Pumpherston, look- 
 ing at him. 
 
 " Why," he began, " I confess I loved the bottle. 
 I was besotted. Rabelais and Omar, these were my 
 gods. I never want to drink so deeply again. My 
 poor wife, you know ! But she 's in the wrong, too. 
 To make me stop all in a sudden is more than a man 
 can stand. I 've had my lapses. I don't deny it. 
 But as for fig and apple drink, or currant water, 
 or apricot syrup, or syrup of lemons all day and every 
 day, why, these dreadful compounds are killing me ! 
 That 's why my head moves about like a pendulum, 
 and I'm more like a jumping jack than a human 
 being. It 's pure weakness. What can I do with 
 orange barley water, or whatever they call it ? Well, 
 what 's in a name ? Whisky by any other name
 
 224 THE OLD DANCE MASTEE 
 
 tastes as well. Call it a medicine. We are both thor- 
 oughly overworked. That 's the truth." 
 
 " Well, will you open it ? " asked Pumpherston, 
 pushing the bottle towards Sir Samuel. 
 
 " You open it," said Sir Samuel, pushing it back. 
 
 " Is it not the case," demanded Pumpherston, 
 " that we are both suffering from exhaustion ? " 
 
 " I Ve just said so. I entirely agree with you. 
 At least, I know how I feel," said Sir Samuel, with 
 a gleam beginning to arrive in his eyes. " Where did 
 you get this ? " 
 
 " I walked to Bayswater and brought it home in 
 my umbrella," said Mr. Pumpherston. " I have al- 
 ready said that I took the precaution of getting a 
 doctor's certificate." 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! Excellent idea ! " exclaimed Sir 
 Samuel, pushing the bottle nearer Mr. Pumpherston, 
 " Home in an umbrella ! You 're a genius. Well ? " 
 
 " Is the door locked ? " asked Mr. Pumpherston. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Sir Samuel. " Begin." 
 
 " All right. But, remember, only a drop each," 
 said Mr. Pumpherston, putting in the corkscrew and 
 drawing. "Even although my committee came in 
 this moment, I could look them straight in the face." 
 
 " So could I," said Sir Samuel, impatiently. 
 
 " Supposing your wife and my sister arrived, I 
 could prove that I am justified. My doctor says 
 it," repeated Mr. Pumpherston.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 225 
 
 " But they won't come," said Sir Samuel, 
 drinking. " At the present moment they are ad- 
 dressing the temperance meeting in Leeds, and de- 
 livering your message, and your name is being 
 cheered. And so, tell me about the last election 
 you fought at Old Grange " helping himself from 
 the bottle again. " I hear you fell in love with the 
 mayor's daughter, but that she jilted you and went 
 over to Drury and the Liquor Party. Is it true? 
 Now, what happened ? " 
 
 " She threw back at me the bracelet I gave her," 
 said Mr. Pumpherston. " It hit me in the 
 eye." 
 
 " I made a rule of never giving to women any solid 
 objects, anything bulky which they can throw back 
 at you when the quarrel begins, but only such things 
 as flowers, and sweets, gloves and ribbons, which 
 perish in the using. And so your opponent flirted 
 with the mayor's daughter? Ha, ha. . . . This is 
 good stuff " refilling Mr. Pumpherston's glass and 
 his own. 
 
 " Sir Samuel ! " exclaimed Mr. Pumpherston, 
 drinking. 
 
 " He was seen sitting in a garden with his arm 
 round the jade's waist ? Oh, Pumpherston, what did 
 you say ? How did you feel ? " asked Sir Samuel, 
 laughing heartily, and beginning to shows signs of 
 undue hilarity. " Such an experience, Pumpherston,
 
 226 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 was enough to drive you to drink ! Now that we Ve 
 been drinking together, I may as well tell you some- 
 thing." 
 
 " I Ve not been drinking," said Mr. Pumpherston, 
 corking the bottle. " I Ve been taking a stimulant. 
 Tea would do as well." 
 
 " Why did n't you take it, then ? " asked Sir Sam- 
 uel, jeering. " Anyway, I may as well tell you 
 that the old craving came on me to-day. Half an 
 hour ago I was in that pub round the corner. Did n't 
 you notice me reeling a bit. But nobody saw me go 
 in a side street, you know. What a comfort a 
 side street is, Pumpherston ! " 
 
 " Half an hour ago ! I wish you had told me," 
 said Pumpherston. 
 
 " Wanted to come, eh ? That 's good," exclaimed 
 Sir Samuel, rolling from side to side. 
 
 " No," said Pumpherston, putting the cork more 
 firmly into the bottle. " You misunderstand me 
 If I had known you had been drinking " 
 
 " Oh, Tartuffe, hypocrite, Tartuffe Pumpherston ! " 
 said Sir Samuel. " Now, if any man says I 'm 
 drunk, I '11 call him a liar ! Take out that cork ! " 
 
 " I will do nothing of the kind," said Mr. Pum- 
 pherston. " I see the mistake I have made. You 
 are becoming hilarious, Sir Samuel Epworth." 
 
 " Now, don't be foolish, Tartuffe ! Don't call me 
 names ! You 're a hypocrite, sir, a filthy hypocrite,
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 227 
 
 and you 're frightened for your sister," said Sir 
 Samuel, in great excitement. " I despise you ! " 
 
 " You 're frightened for your wife," retorted Mr. 
 Pumpherston, very alarmed. 
 
 " Am I ? Who said it 1 I '11 brain you with this 
 bottle, sirl " said Sir Samuel, beginning to move in 
 Mr. Pumpherston's direction. 
 
 " Oh, I say ! " exclaimed Mr. Pumpherston. " Does 
 it go to your head as quickly as all that? Really, 
 if you go on like this, I '11 have to remove you." 
 
 " What do you mean, sir ? Remove me ? " 
 
 " Supposing anyone came in ? " urged Mr. Pum- 
 pherston. 
 
 " Well, supposing they did ; what of that, I say ? " 
 
 " Well, we should be seriously compromised. My 
 reputation! Oh, come, come, Sir Samuel! " 
 
 " Oh, go, go, Mr. Pumpherston ! Are you insult- 
 ing me, sir ? " 
 
 " Not in the least." 
 
 " You propose to eject me from this meeting ? " 
 
 " He thinks he 's at a meeting ! " exclaimed Mr. 
 Pumpherston, in an aside. " Pardon me." 
 
 "That's the last thing I will do," said Sir 
 Samuel. " Who drew the cork first ? " 
 
 " We have been imprudent, Sir Samuel. I feel 
 slightly giddy myself," said Mr. Pumpherston. 
 
 " Who drew the bottle ? " demanded Sir Samuel. 
 
 " I suppose I did."
 
 228 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " You suppose. Have you forgotten ? Sir, you 
 are drunk," said Sir Samuel, glaring at him. 
 
 " Dear Sir Samuel, calm yourself. I am not com- 
 plaining," said Mr. Pumpherston. 
 
 " I believe that you have a mind to be impertinent, 
 sir!" 
 
 " I beseech you, my venerable friend, do not let 
 us drift into a quarrel. If I have said anything to 
 offend you, I retract it instantly. I think we should 
 both go quietly to bed. I will see you to your room. 
 That 's all I meant." 
 
 Anxious to get rid of him at any cost, Mr. Pum- 
 pherston humbled himself sufficiently, and begged 
 to be forgiven. After some display of sullenness, 
 and many minutes of silence, Sir Samuel seemed to 
 be appeased, and then, with a return of good humour, 
 he bade his host good night, and arrived at his own 
 quarters without mishap. Next day he appeared to 
 have forgotten the incident, or to be ashamed of it, 
 so that when Lady Epworth and Mrs. Mepham came 
 back from Yorkshire, all traces of the quarrel had 
 disappeared. Both women were full of news regard- 
 ing the victorious meetings which they had held in 
 the enemy's strongholds, and Sir Samuel and Mr. 
 Pumpherston listened attentively, and with downcast 
 eyes, to the account of numerous conversions. It 
 happened to be the evening on which Mrs.- Wix was 
 giving the dinner in honour of her own birthday,
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 229 
 
 and she was perfectly aware that when she called 
 for wine she would offend Mrs. Mepham. 
 
 Mrs. Mepham, who was a demure, pale-faced 
 widow, with an angry mouth and black, glossy hair, 
 which was brushed tightly and flatly on her head, and 
 was divided by a parting in the middle, glanced 
 contemptuously at the flimsy green gown in which 
 Mrs. Wix was arrayed, and pronounced the words 
 "gaudy frump," which caused Lady Epworth to 
 titter. The sole reason why Mrs. Mepham and her 
 brother remained at Wix's Residential Hotel was be- 
 cause in no other boarding establishment of the same 
 class were they able to find a telephone. Now, Mrs. 
 Mepham was in frequent communication with her 
 emissaries in the Metropolis, and the telephone had 
 become a necessity for her and her brother in the 
 work of propaganda. By making use of the instru- 
 ment belonging to Mrs. Wix she could save a penny 
 each time, because at the public telephone the charge 
 was twopence. Moreover, all things considered, the 
 disadvantages of residence with Mrs. Wix were out- 
 weighed by the advantages. Of course, a woman like 
 Mrs. Mepham, hard, intolerant, and fanatical, could 
 feel nothing but contempt for a person like Mrs. 
 Wix, but it was mixed with some fear. When re- 
 proached for living in a licensed house, Mrs. Mepham 
 pointed out that she and Mr. Pumpherston desired 
 to convert the unconverted, and that, therefore, their
 
 230 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 post of duty, like an advanced guard, lay where 
 drinkers assembled. The truth was, however, that 
 spirituous liquor was only rarely seen at Mrs. Wix's 
 table, because few Wixians could afford it. Mrs. 
 Mepham was thus all the more surprised to discover 
 on this evening of her return from a victory over the 
 enemy, that Mrs. Wix, at her own expense and for 
 the pitiful purpose of self-glorification, was actually 
 providing temptation in the form of champagne ! At 
 the popping of the corks, Mrs. Mepham started from 
 her chair, while Sir Samuel Epworth and Mr. Pum- 
 pherston furtively eyed each other. 
 
 " Ralph," exclaimed Mrs. Mepham, addressing 
 her brother, " this is a designed insult to us. Let us 
 rise." 
 
 Ralph, however, was hungry, and stuffed veal and 
 peas pudding and potatoes were being handed round. 
 He hurriedly whispered to his sister that she must 
 not make a scene, and asked if she and Lady Epworth 
 were not very famished after their long journey? 
 Sir Samuel Epworth appeared likewise determined 
 not to miss his dinner. He clutched his knife and 
 fork. 
 
 " Fizz or no fizz/' he said bluntly, with a revival 
 of his ancient courage, " I won't budge ! " 
 
 " They are both hungry," said Lady Epworth to 
 Mrs. Mepham. " We had better remain." 
 
 Mrs. Mepham, who had half risen from her chair,
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 231 
 
 sat down again, amid the smiles of Mr. Snape and 
 Mr. Coon, and reluctantly agreed to see the meal 
 to a finish. As for Mrs. Wix, she was in a high- 
 spirited, reckless mood, and felt independent of the 
 patronage of Mrs. Mepham. For Sir Samuel she 
 had a distinct regard, and perhaps it was out of 
 sympathy for him that she sent Wurm with the 
 champagne bottle among the gloomy group of 
 abstainers. 
 
 " No ! " said Lady Epworth, flattening her palm 
 over her wine glass as soon as Wurm had placed 
 the bottle in position. " Sir Samuel and I will have 
 cherry water." 
 
 Sir Samuel sighed, and looked savagely at Mr. 
 Pumpherston. Mrs. Mepham had already turned her 
 own glass and her brother's head downwards, and 
 Wurm passed without offering a drop. 
 
 " Mr. Pumpherston and I," said Mrs. Mepham, 
 in a loud and commanding tone, "will have filtered 
 water. And see that it is filtered." 
 
 " That 's a treat for you ! " whispered Sir Samuel 
 to Mr. Pumpherston, who sat silent. 
 
 Meanwhile Herr Habenichts was in a very genial 
 mood. Mr. Botolph looked at him with admiration, 
 and marvelled at his quick recovery of spirits. But 
 Herr Habenichts was a man who gave himself up 
 to the enjoyment of the moment, and said that care 
 should take care of itself. If he were to be led to
 
 232 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 execution and a good cigar had been given to him a 
 quarter of an hour before the fatal moment, he would 
 smoke it tranquilly to the end. He agreed with 
 Mrs. Wix that Mrs. Mepham was a kill- joy, and 
 abhorred her frigidity, and he had never been able 
 to accustom himself to the forlornness of Lady Ep- 
 worth, the strange silence of Mrs. Coon, who sat at 
 table without ever saying a word, and the something 
 repellent in Mr. Pumpherston. But he liked Sir 
 Samuel, who, with all his oddities, possessed the re- 
 mains of a gay countenance, and he boldly looked 
 down to where he was sitting, and, having raised his 
 glass, he drank with a twinkling eye to the health 
 of the old dilapidated knight. Sir Samuel, with 
 a pathetic nod, returned the compliment in cherry 
 water. Herr Habenichts then nudged Mr. Botolph, 
 who sat with a pleased smile on his face, and he 
 whispered 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Botolph, I drink to the safety of your 
 boy!" 
 
 Mr. Botolph thanked him, and looked radiant, 
 and said he was certain that his son would return 
 in the spring. Herr Habenichts now began to feel 
 ashamed for what he had said about Mrs. Wix, who 
 was providing such excellent fare, and he asked 
 Mr. Botolph to forget it. Mrs. Wix, in fact, was 
 paying great attention to Herr Habenichts, for she 
 had begun to think that he was making money and
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 233 
 
 was becoming a person of importance. The fact 
 that Sir John Marduke was the patron of the Original 
 Jellini Academy of Dancing very greatly impressed 
 her, and she had heard of the distinguished persons, 
 including two mayors, who had witnessed the pupils' 
 ball. On the actual evening which had brought the 
 disastrous news of the withdrawal of Sir John Mar- 
 duke's patronage, Herr Habenichts was pained to re- 
 ceive Mrs. Wix's congratulations on the enjoyment 
 of the friendship and protection of such an impor- 
 tant gentleman, 
 
 " It 's just a piece of out and out luck," she said. 
 " You 're a rich man already. To be sure you are." 
 
 " Nein, Mrs. Vix," replied Herr Habenichts. " I 
 not rich! De life is hard, and vollish. At my age 
 see me dance de polka, very vollish! I lose time. 
 I vish to read and study. But I teach de dance to 
 get bread. Dat's all." 
 
 Mrs. Wix would not hear a word of it. She had 
 begun to suspect that, owing to the supposed im- 
 provement in his circumstances, Herr Habenichts 
 might forsake her hotel, and move to more luxurious 
 quarters. She said that " good fortin' 's a fine thing," 
 asked him if he was comfortable, and offered him a 
 better room. 
 
 " Jellini's is quite a name," she continued, " and 
 I hope as you '11 teach Polly to dance. Sir John 
 Marduke 's a millionaire, and you 're in his will.
 
 234 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 There 's no doubt about it. He has taken a fancy 
 to you." 
 
 A momentary cloud or cloudlet seemed to pass 
 across Herr Habenichts' face, and Mr. Botolph 
 thought he heard a faint sigh. Herr Habenichts 
 shook his head, and said that Mrs. Wix was imagin- 
 ing things. But she shook her head, too, put her 
 hand on his shoulder, and asked him if he would 
 be ashamed to ask Sir John to such a dinner. While 
 he was saying that he would not, Mr. Botolph took 
 the opportunity of whispering to him 
 
 " The wine is mounting in her ! " 
 
 Mrs. Wix, however, seemed determined to over- 
 load Herr Habenichts with her attentions. 
 
 " Now, have a plummier bit of that there beef," 
 she said. "These baked taters? Some gravy and 
 a little of the fat ? Oh, here 's a dollop of Yorkshire 
 puddin', and don't forget to empty your glass." 
 
 " I empty it to you," said Herr Habenichts, raising 
 his glass, and overwhelming Mrs. Wix with his courtly 
 airs. 
 
 " Wix and me used to say," continued Mrs. Wix, 
 " that after we had made our pile we 'd do the 
 thing swell. As it is, we don't weave cotton and 
 call it silk. We don't grind rice in the coffee and 
 save up old tea leaves to use over again. It ain't 
 here you '11 feed on tripe and cow heel and pigs' 
 trotters. You men knows nothin' about housekeepin'
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 235 
 
 and the valer of money. Now that roast beef you 're 
 eatin' and evidently enjoyin'. Ain't it prime? I 
 got that in Camden Town, and don't say to me that 
 it was a block ornament, or one of them remnants 
 and rags of beef they sticks in the winder for Sat'r- 
 day nights. I bought it myself on Tuesday, and 
 bargained no end. Keepin' a hotel is just house- 
 keepin' on a biggish scale. That 's what I tells Polly. 
 I give valer for money. That 's judge and justice. 
 Fight in' the cook and the servants and them boarders 
 as says they '11 pay you like a bank and does n't, 
 and then facin' the taxes and the bills and the 
 broken crockery. Why, it 's a life ! P'r'aps 'casion- 
 ally I talks up a bit loud and lusty like. But it 's 
 just like Big Ben. He 's got to talk out if he 's 
 goin' to be heard a mile away, and so they gives 
 him a loud tongue." 
 
 Hereupon Mrs. Wix observed that Lady Epworth 
 and Mrs. Mepham ware tittering at her, but she 
 transfixed them with one of her sharp glances, and 
 then called for more wine. 
 
 " Wine bibbers ! " remarked Mrs. Mepham, some- 
 what uncourageously, in a whisper. 
 
 " They drink like fish," said Lady Epworth. 
 
 " Fish, poor things, drink only water," replied Sir 
 Samuel, winking at Mr. Pumpherston. 
 
 " Then I wish people would drink like fish," re- 
 torted Mrs. Mepham, raising her nose and looking
 
 236 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 defiant. " Ralph, why don't you say something ? 
 Keep the flag flying even in the enemy's camp." 
 
 " Why, ma'am," said Mrs. Wix, addressing Mrs. 
 Mepham, " I 've never seen you smile, and you 're 
 as mournful as the muffin-bell." 
 
 " These wet goods," said Mr. Pumpherston, com- 
 ing to his sister's rescue, " could be dispensed with, 
 Mrs. Wix." 
 
 " Tartuffe ! hypocrite ! " exclaimed Sir Samuel 
 Epworth, kicking Pumpherston in the ankle. " I '11 
 expose you ! " 
 
 " You don't take this house for a wobble shop ? " 
 inquired Mrs. Wix, indignantly, amid the growing 
 excitement. 
 
 " Wobble shop," repeated Mr. Coon. " That yanks 
 the bun." 
 
 " Don't offend anyone," whispered Mrs. Coon to 
 her husband. " Take no part in the discussion, and 
 don't drink." 
 
 " I would n't say," remarked Mr. Snape, the den- 
 tist, " that a man should float his teeth, but I do 
 believe that it 's good now and again to wash the 
 ivories with wine." 
 
 " Vat did Mr. Pumpherston mean by vet goods ? " 
 asked Herr Habenichts. 
 
 " Slang for liquor," replied Mr. Coon. 
 
 " Den," said Herr Habenichts, " de vet goods im- 
 prove some people's dry conversation."
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 237 
 
 The drinkers now laughed at the abstainers, while 
 Mrs. Mepham urged her brother to attempt to reply. 
 
 " You will admit," began Pumpherston, " that 
 even professional thieves are generally sober men. 
 To do their work they require to keep their wits 
 clear." 
 
 " Vat a reason for being a teetotaller ! " exclaimed 
 Herr Habenichts ; and they all began laughing again. 
 
 Mr. Pumpherston lost countenance, and kept his 
 eyes on the table-cloth, while his sister told him 
 that he had made a fool of himself, and that if he 
 could n't defend the cause in any better manner, 
 he should henceforth hold his tongue. 
 
 Herr Habenichts then began to explain to all 
 present the myth of Dionysus, and when he spoke 
 of the origin of the vine worship, he quoted five 
 lines from Euripides in the original Greek. 
 
 " Don't talk German," said Mrs. Wix. 
 
 Mr. Coon and Mr. Snape, who likewise thought 
 that Herr Habenichts was talking German, said al- 
 most simultaneously, " Quite right, ma'am ; " but 
 when they found their mistake, they both looked 
 foolish. For Herr Habenichts and Mr. Botolph were 
 busy laughing. 
 
 Mr. Coon closed his eyes. He was a little man 
 with a narrow forehead and black, close-cropped hair. 
 His face was deeply pitted by small-pox, and he 
 wore pince-nez. His speciality in journalism con-
 
 238 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 sisted of the obituary notices of eminent persons, 
 but during the last year he had been heard to com- 
 plain of the scarcity of deaths among the great. 
 He possessed a series of biographies in manuscript, 
 which he was continually bringing up to date in case 
 any of his victims might suddenly die. Since his 
 style was often caustic he called himself the grave- 
 digger of reputations. 
 
 " And vat/' asked Herr Habenichts, " is your next 
 obituary notice to be about ? " 
 
 " Free Trade," said Sir Samuel Epworth in a loud 
 voice at the other end of the table. 
 
 Hereupon there took place a most violent dis- 
 cussion on the subject of Free Trade and Protection, 
 in the course of which Mr. Pumpherston declared 
 himself an unrepentant Free Trader, and was again 
 kicked in the ankle by Sir Samuel Epworth. The 
 debate was becoming very animated, while Mrs. Coon 
 kept whispering to her husband, " Take no part. 
 Don't quarrel with anyone." Lady Epworth informed 
 Mrs. Mepham, who was also a Free Trader, that she 
 did not know what she was taking about, and that 
 on this subject they must part company. Sir Samuel 
 was delighted, and kept repeating, as he shook in 
 his chair, "The fat's in the fire!" The battle, 
 indeed, had spread to the other two tables, and 
 soon the room was in an uproar. Mrs Wix, who 
 was too confused to be able to contribute anything
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 239 
 
 coherent to the debate, called out from her 
 place 
 
 " I like animals as is civil ! " 
 
 " And //' cried Mrs. Mepham, as she lifted a ba- 
 nana and smelt it, "prefer free traders to foul ones." 
 
 " Take my word, it 's a good banana. What are 
 you smelling it for ? " demanded Mrs. Wix. " Some 
 folks are like horses. They must touch everythin' 
 with their noses. And most folks seem to think a 
 bill of fare 's a bill of ladin'." 
 
 There was a sudden silence, and Sir Samuel Ep- 
 worth was stopped in the development of an impor- 
 tant argument. He had had high words with Mr. 
 Pumpherston who stated with some indignation that 
 so far at least -as his ankle was concerned, he was 
 already convinced of the need of Protection. But 
 Mrs. Wix's last jibe created an awkward pause, and 
 her reference to bills of lading was resented by the 
 entire company. At this juncture Wurm entered to 
 inform Herr Habenichts that a young gentleman 
 of the name of Marduke was in the parlour. Herr 
 Habenichts promptly rose, and we will follow him. 
 He excused himself to the heated debaters while 
 Mrs. Wix beamed upon him, and exclaimed 
 
 " Mr. Marduke ! Oh, I say ! That 's the baronet's 
 son. Offer him anything he wishes, and I would 
 like to see him."
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH 
 
 HERB HABEETICHTS entered the room in a haughty 
 fashion. He advanced, bowing disdainfully and but- 
 toning his frock-coat, and his demeanour bewildered 
 Monty Marduke, who was standing with his back 
 to the fire. But Marduke was likewise in a strange 
 mood. His eyes had an expression of trouble and 
 unrest, his face was pale, and his brows were con- 
 tracted as if in sign of some great catastrophe of 
 love and youth. He was startled by the peculiar 
 behaviour of Herr Habenichts, who stood stock still 
 under the incandescent gas bracket, where his bald 
 head began to shine. The old dance master was 
 apparently trying to control some excitement. His 
 lips were tight, he breathed heavily, and he eyed the 
 youth suspiciously, almost savagely. 
 
 " Why, what 's wrong with you, Herr Habe- 
 nichts ? " asked Monty, going forward and holding 
 ont his hand. 
 
 " Oh, I vill pay it all" replied Herr Habenichts, 
 scornfully " everyting, and glad every penny to 
 pay, even although it leave me vith noting. I sup- 
 pose you tink I run avay ? " 
 
 240
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 241 
 
 Hereupon, having unbuttoned his frock-coat he 
 pulled out first the letter which he had received from 
 Messrs. Jedder and Jedder, the baronet's solicitors, 
 and second, the letter which he had received from 
 Mr. Samuel Larkin, and he shook them violently in 
 Mr. Monty Marduke's face. 
 
 " To-morrow," he continued in an excited voice, 
 " I go to the pank, proud to go and pay every penny. 
 Empty pocket again! Mein Gott! I begin to say 
 I come to de wrong countree. Dat Dorrie and you 
 haf both done it to me." 
 
 Herr Habenichts' face was now very red and his 
 eyes were enlarged and fiery. 
 
 " I don't understand a word of what you are 
 saying," Monty replied. " What is it all about ? 
 I 've just come from Jellini's, where I expected to 
 see you, since I thought this was one of your even- 
 ings. I have something to tell you, Herr Habe- 
 nichts. Most important! " 
 
 " Vat ! " exclaimed Herr Habenichts. " You not 
 know? Is dat de troot? It is nonsense to say so. 
 You not know dat your fader, de patron, haf for- 
 sook me, and ask back de loan, de money, all becose 
 of de goings on of you and Dorrie ? " 
 
 " I know nothing about it," said Marduke, " noth- 
 ing whatever." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " I say I don't know what you are talking about," 
 repeated Marduke.
 
 242 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " And de cab gentleman, Mr. Larkin. . . . Oh, 
 wat impudence to speak about me as lie do in his 
 letter ! " said Herr Habenichts, suddenly taking ref- 
 uge in his own language and beginning to pour 
 forth a torrent of words which Marduke did not 
 understand. " I vill demand an apology. Yes, I 
 vill ! " he continued, and then after he had shaken 
 both letters as dogs shake rats, he handed them over 
 in a crumpled condition to Mr. Monty Marduke. 
 
 While Monty was studying them Herr Habenichts 
 walked round the room humming a martial and de- 
 fiant air, and now and again throwing back his 
 shoulders and keping his head erect as if he were 
 marching to battle. As he turned he was surprised 
 to see Mrs. Wix's face looking in at the door. Al- 
 though Mrs. Wix had ordered everyone in the house 
 not to disturb Herr Habenichts and his distinguished 
 guest, and to consider that parlour as a private room 
 for the evening, she found it impossible to restrain 
 her own curiosity. 
 
 " Oh, I beg pardon," she said, while her face was 
 still crimson with the champagne. " Just looked in 
 to see if anything was wanted. That 's my way. I 
 like gentlemen to get attention. Enough lights ? 
 Oh, my goodness, the curtains ain't drawn " (and in 
 a flick the curtain rings were rattling along the 
 poles). "The fire good? I never grudge coals to 
 gentlemen on a Jan'ary night. Well, now, perhaps 
 Mr. Marduke would like something ? "
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 243 
 
 " Nothing, thank you," said Marduke ; while Herr 
 Habenichts smiled to Mrs. Wix, who then reluctantly 
 disappeared. 
 
 During the very important conversation which 
 now began between Monty and Herr Habenichts they 
 were frequently disturbed by one head after another 
 bobbing in and begging pardon. Mrs. Mepham en- 
 tered to say, " Oh, I thought Mr. Pumpherston was 
 here," although she had left him in the lobby. Then 
 came Mrs. Coon with " Where is Mr. Coon ? " al- 
 though she knew perfectly well that he was still 
 lingering at table and cracking bad jokes and walnuts. 
 Mr. Snape arrived on the pretence of looking for 
 matches, although he had a box full in his pocket, 
 and he took ten minutes to prepare his pipe and 
 to light it. Even Sir Samuel Epworth was incapable 
 of resisting the temptation when it became known 
 that Sir John Marduke's son was in the house. For 
 Sir John had been at school with Sir Samuel, who, 
 however, as soon as he had caught a glimpse of Monty, 
 retreated with apologies. Polly Wix likewise paid 
 a visit ostensibly to poke the fire, which needed no 
 poking at all. As she swept the hearth, however, 
 she had an excellent view of Mr. Marduke's boots, 
 which she afterwards declared to be the loveliest 
 boots she had ever seen on a gentleman's feet. 
 Only Mr. Botolph respected Herr Habenichts' pri- 
 vacy, and spent a formidable evening in listening
 
 244 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 to Mrs. Mepham's and Lady Epworth's opinions on; 
 temperance. 
 
 Monty expressed astonishment at the contents of 
 the letters, then sympathy with Herr Habenichts, and 
 then great disgust with the action of his father, who, 
 he declared, was becoming more and more incom- 
 prehensible to him. Herr Habenichts replied that 
 he did not desire sympathy and that Sir John Mar- 
 duke had doubtless a perfect right to do what he liked 
 in the matter. He repeated that he had determined 
 to restore the money immediately and to close for 
 ever the Original Jellini Academy of Dancing. But 
 he was much surprised when he heard Monty state 
 in tones of obvious sincerity that if it were not 
 that he, too, at that moment happened to be short 
 of cash, he would be delighted to come to Herr Habe- 
 nichts' assistance. At first the old dance master 
 listened incredulously and derisively. 
 
 " Very leetle money ! " he exclaimed. " Ja, I 
 believe you ! " 
 
 " Yes, Herr Habenichts," continued Monty. " You 
 laugh, but it is true. I am in debt. Three or four 
 years ago I was an ass, kept a racing stud, and lost 
 heavily. The allowance which my father gives me 
 pays the interest on loans, and leaves me just some- 
 thing to get along with. And now my father 
 threatens to stop the allowance. Our family affairs 
 are in a very unsatisfactory state. My father has
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTEK 245 
 
 given so much away that we are becoming alarmed, 
 not only about our own position in the world, but 
 about his sanity. If it were possible I would sell 
 the six valuable pictures which my mother left me, 
 and lend you some of the proceeds, because I can 
 never forget that it was through you that I met that 
 lovely girl " 
 
 " Don't mention her name," interrupted Herr 
 Habenichts, sternly. 
 
 " I say, I would like to help you " 
 
 " I don't vish it," said Herr Habenichts. 
 
 " But my father has the use of those pictures 
 during his life," continued Monty, as he plumped 
 into a seat " Well, there 's my bay mare " 
 
 Herr Habenichts took a chair, drew it near to 
 Monty's, and looked earnestly at the young man. 
 
 " Mein Gott ! " he exclaimed, " is it possible ? " 
 
 " Yes, but tell me first, where 's Dorrie ? " asked 
 Monty, eagerly. " I '11 help you as soon as I 
 can." 
 
 " Nein," said Herr Habenichts. " De tance is 
 over, and I out in de vorld again." 
 
 " I 've got the most extraordinary thing to tell 
 you, Herr Habenichts," Monty began again as he 
 took a cigarette from his gold cigarette case ; " and 
 this letter of Larkin has considerably added to my 
 fears for that lovely girl. I 've got news for you ! " 
 
 " Vat ? " asked Herr Habenichts. " Ja, news of
 
 246 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 pretty face. Dat's all de news a young man care 
 for. She ruin us both ! " 
 
 " I went to Jellini's to-night expecting to find 
 her and you, Herr Habenichts," said Monty, in great 
 excitement. " I 'm going to elope with her. It 's 
 the only way. You must help us. She 's in the 
 greatest danger! This letter proves it. Larkin, 
 you know, is not her father. He has no rights over 
 her whatever." 
 
 " I not onderstand," murmured Herr Habenichts. 
 
 " She 's the niece of the Duchess Dowager of Berk- 
 shire," said Monty. " Larkin 's only her stepfather. 
 Her mother died long ago." 
 
 Herr Habenichts gave expression to his amazement 
 by seizing the poker and splitting a block of coal. 
 Then with many appropriate exclamations in his own 
 language he drew his chair still nearer to Monty, 
 and told him to go on without delay. 
 
 Monty could only repeat what he had already said, 
 but he now seemed to be working himself into a 
 fury at the thought that Dorothy might be suddenly 
 removed from London. 
 
 " I want you to spy on that yard, Herr Habe- 
 nichts," he continued. " I '11 consult a lawyer. Lar- 
 kin has no power over that lovely girl. As for writing 
 letters to her, she would never get them. No, I'll 
 act. I '11 act." 
 
 He rose.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 247 
 
 " Sit down," implored Heir Habenichts, pushing 
 him into the chair again. " Was f iir eine Geschichte 1 
 Tell me all." 
 
 Herr Habenichts was so eager to hear every de- 
 tail that he soon forgot his own distresses, and he 
 sat listening as a child listens to a fairy tale. When 
 Monty described his interview, first with Mrs. Bleeks 
 and then with Larkin and the revelations made con- 
 cerning Dorothy's parentage, the listener's excitement 
 increased. For Herr Habenichts buttoned and un- 
 buttoned his frock-coat twenty times, smiled and 
 frowned by turns, slapped his knee and flung his 
 half-smoked cigar into the blazing fire. Monty was 
 scarcely able to proceed owing to the frequent in- 
 terruptions and interjections in German, and at 
 last Herr Habenichts seized him by the arm, shook 
 it, and said, " Ach, die Liebe ! " The old man's 
 interest was still more quickened when Monty de- 
 scribed Arabella, Duchess of Berkshire, and her in- 
 human coldness and her refusal to befriend the hap- 
 less girl. Herr Habenichts shook his head, leaned 
 back in his chair, gesticulated with his two hands, 
 and exclaimed, " A vicked ancient lady : eine bose 
 Frau ! " He asked for a minute description of her, 
 where she lived, how rich she was, how old she was, 
 and he put fifty other questions. Once more Monty 
 was required . to recapitulate the story, and when 
 he told of Larkin's discomfiture, Mrs. Bleeks's rage
 
 248 THE OLD DAKCE MASTER 
 
 and the dowager's fury, Herr Habenichts clapped 
 his hands. The electric batteries of his own mem- 
 ories were being stirred. 
 
 " Ja," he began, " it all remind me of my Vi- 
 ennese tancer ven I vos a gay hussar. Ah, long ago, 
 long ago. And she made me soffer ! A tancer, Tan- 
 zerin, like Dorrie. She change my life. She vould 
 not haf me ! I vollowed her over de Simmering into 
 Tyrol, into Germany, avay into Vrance, and Italy, 
 Algiers and Athens, avay, avay, tancing, tancing. All 
 over de vorld did I vatch her in de theatres, ah, 
 long ago ! She vould not haf me. I almost shot my- 
 self : I vept, I vept. And ven I lost her I thought 
 to write my book on de Tance, for I saw her as Terp- 
 sichore tancing through the ages! Dat vos my con- 
 solation. To write de book, I rose in de mornings 
 and saw her tancing, tancing in de dawn! Ja, my 
 thought became like a tancer. Star of love, morning 
 and evening star ! Ach, how vondervoll and glorious 
 life is!" 
 
 Herr Habenichts stopped, and his eyes seemed to be 
 searching far horizons while Monty sat wondering at 
 his rapture. Then they talked and talked, and Monty 
 said a hundred times that he would marry his dan- 
 cer, and he again demanded Herr Habenichts help. 
 
 " Veil ? Vat can I do V ' asked Herr Habenichts, 
 with his old benignity. " It is a vondervoll love. 
 Elope ? Ah, mein Gott, look ! listen ! "
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 249 
 
 He pointed suddenly to the clock, which marked 
 half -past twelve, and simultaneously a key was heard 
 being turned in the front door. All good Wixians 
 save one had gone to bed and were asleep and dream- 
 ing, little knowing that young Romance was in the 
 house. 
 
 " Here comes Svevling," whispered Herr Habe- 
 nichts in terror. " I vorget him ! I put out de gas. 
 He think no one here." 
 
 Before Marduke could prevent him Herr Habe- 
 nichts turned out the gas so that the room was lit 
 only by the fire glow. Now it was Swefling's habit 
 to enter the parlour every night in expectation of 
 seeing Herr Habenichts and Mr. Botolph. When 
 he opened the door he found the room in darkness 
 except for the red warm shimmer of the dying fire. 
 There was light enough, however, to enable him to 
 distinguish figures in the room, and he saw two heads 
 and two pairs of legs. 
 
 "Hullo!" he cried, "who's here?" 
 
 Monty was about to strike a light because he had 
 no intention of hiding. 
 
 Swefling saw the gleam of a small gold box, and 
 presently, by the flame of the wax match, he rec- 
 ognised Marduke's features. As the incandescent 
 bracket became relighted Heir Habenichts said 
 
 " Good evening, Mr. Svevling, I am here, too ! " 
 Swefling, however, made no response, but looked
 
 250 THE OLD DAtfCE MASTER 
 
 in a sullen and suspicious manner from the one to 
 the other, while Marduke smoked a cigarette. 
 
 " Mr. Svevling," exclaimed Herr Habenichts, "you 
 look like a morderer ! " 
 
 Swefling only grinned in silence, and outstared 
 Marduke. The fellow looked so menacing, so trucu- 
 lent that Herr Habenichts expected a fight to begin 
 immediately, and he glanced in an anxious manner 
 at Marduke, who, however, remained perfectly calm. 
 Meantime Swefling continued his insolent survey of 
 Marduke, as if he were taking his measure of him. 
 Then, without a word, but with a loud laugh which 
 went rolling and echoing up the staircase, and made 
 some of the inmates turn in their sleep, he left the 
 room. He had reasons for his self-control. Some- 
 thing had happened in Larkin's yard.
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEENTH 
 
 WHEN Larkin had made a resolution he seldom failed 
 to carry it out. Therefore it was in consternation 
 and in terror that Dorothy heard from his own lips 
 that she was to marry Swefling. Sam suspected 
 that Swefling was in love with her, and, indeed, his 
 sisters had warned him long ago. And, after all, 
 was Swefling to be despised ? He was a very steady 
 young fellow, and he would carry on the business, 
 or perhaps manage the farm. In his utter disbelief 
 in Marduke's honourable intentions Larkin decided 
 to save his step-daughter from ruin without delay. He 
 had an affection for Dorothy, to whom he meant to 
 leave his small fortune, but he still dreaded the day 
 when she would discover that she was unrelated to 
 him. The sudden apparition of Marduke caused 
 Larkin to decide to make use at once of any authority 
 which might remain to him. On the same night, there- 
 fore, on which Marduke went to visit Heir Habe- 
 nichts at Mrs. Wix's, Larkin ordered Swefling to come 
 back to the yard about half-past ten. When Audacity 
 
 251
 
 252 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 trotted into the stables Larkin was standing impa- 
 tiently on his doorstep. 
 
 "You just come in," he said; "Vardy'll see all 
 tight I Ve somethin' to say to you." 
 
 Herr Habeniehts, when he saw that look of anger 
 and hate in Swefling's face, had said that it was the 
 glance of a murderer. It was a strong statement, 
 and perhaps overstrong, but there can be no doubt 
 that during the last ten days or so a deep and extra- 
 ordinary change had taken place in Swelling. Ever 
 since that night when he had driven Dorothy and 
 Marduke in his cab from the Original Jellini Acad- 
 emy of Dancing, Swelling had suffered from alterna- 
 tions of despondency and rage. In his sleep and in 
 his sleeplessness he was troubled by strange and ter- 
 rible suggestions. What is this phantom that whis- 
 pers and whispers, Kill Marduke! Swefling rose in 
 horror, took charge of his cab in the morning, and 
 drove through London, oblivious of the beckonings 
 from the pavement, full only of one thought and 
 trying hard to get rid of it. Primitive instinct, the 
 instinct that makes us in a crisis seize and clutch and 
 crush, which makes us use our bodily powers as the 
 tiger and the jackal use theirs, the instinct to capture 
 the beloved object by force and fight, was furiously 
 astir in this obscure London Jehu. He had been 
 diligently saving money for years for her. It was 
 in order to impress mankind in general, and Dorothy
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 253 
 
 and Larkin in particular, that he had taken a lodg- 
 ing at Wix's Residential Hotel, thus to prove that he 
 was in the way of prosperity. Moreover, he had 
 been bequeathed four hundred pounds by an uncle, 
 and therefore he had supposed that if he presented 
 himself as a suitor he could not be, should not be, 
 treated with disdain. The truth was, that if Larkin 
 had not spoken that night, Swefling would have been 
 unable any longer to restrain his impatience. He, 
 tingling and burning, would have informed old Sam 
 of his passion for Dorothy and his horrible fear of 
 Marduke. If his long years of secret devotion were 
 about to end in this disaster, he might become dan- 
 gerous. Dorothy was in disgrace. He never saw 
 her at the window now. He heard that she had been 
 weeping, that Sam and Mrs. Bleeks and Mrs. Muzzey 
 were very angry with her. Perhaps this was the 
 favourable moment to be bold, the chance of a life- 
 time and a lovetime. Love, to be sure, is not only 
 romantic but necromantic, and plays strange tricks 
 with cabmen as well as with kings. 
 
 The old eight-day clock in Larkin's parlour was 
 slowly striking eleven, stuttering and stammering 
 out the hour, grumbling and wheezing as if, like a 
 miser, grudging every golden minute of the night. 
 On the table there was laid a supper of bread and 
 cheese and beer, and places were set for two. The 
 room had an air of old-fashioned comfort, in spite
 
 254 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 of chairs with perpendicular mahogany backs and a 
 stiff sofa which looked like a couch of penitence. 
 Two tall brass candlesticks glittered on the sideboard, 
 and between them stood an ancient brass urn. A 
 block of tan turf was burning among the coals in the 
 fireplace, and emitted an odour pleasantly pungent. 
 On the wall there were some old hunting prints, 
 and as Swelling cast his eyes around the room he 
 thought that Mr. Larkin was a very prosperous man. 
 
 " Dick," said Sam, looking keenly at him, " you 're 
 wery smart to-night. But you 're always smart. That 
 'at of yourn ! I can see my face in it. It 's the 
 smartest and glossiest silk 'at on the 'ead of any 
 cabby in London. You 're a town toff. But wot 
 d' you say to goin' back to the farm at Colchester ? 
 Perhaps too far out o' the world ? Not gay enough, 
 eh?" 
 
 " Wy," began Swelling, as he looked somewhat 
 shyly and slyly at Larkin, " I would like it no end. 
 But " 
 
 " But wot ? " asked Larkin. 
 
 " Well," replied Swelling, " in course I would 
 miss things 'ere." 
 
 " Just sit down there and 'ave a bit of supper," 
 said Larkin, as he sat opposite, " and tell me who 
 you 'd miss most. D' ye see any green in my eye ? 
 'Ave some cheese and there 's beer. Plenty more if 
 it 's wanted."
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 255 
 
 Swelling sat blushing before his host, and felt 
 very awkward. The sharp night air had given his 
 clear eyes a wonderfully fresh look. It was a round 
 bullet head with dark, closely cropped hair. Larkin 
 had always liked the face, which was frank and 
 engaging. 
 
 " Who would you miss most ? " repeated Larkin, 
 grinning. 
 
 " If I says all I feels," replied Swefling, faltering, 
 " I might get the sack." 
 
 " Just you sing out all you feels," said Larkin, 
 encouragingly. " That 's the best dodge when dealin' 
 with a man like me." 
 
 " Guv'nor " he began, but stopped in confusion. 
 
 " Go on, I says." 
 
 " Well, it 's like this Splice me ! I 'm spavined ! 
 I dunnow the way to go on a'ead." 
 
 " Splice you ? " laughed Larkin. " That sounds 
 like love and sweetheartin'. Wot 's up with the 
 feller?" 
 
 " Guv'nor," continued Swefling, " I jist feel like a 
 'oss meetin' a steam-ingine." 
 
 " S'ppose the steam-ingine stops to let the 'oss 
 go past," suggested Larkin. 
 
 " I 'm blowed if I can 'elp savin' it, then, Mr. 
 Larkin. I 'm very fond on 'er," said Swefling. 
 
 " In course you are. And you thinks, maybe, 
 that 's a piece of news. Wy, I 've knowed it long 
 ago."
 
 256 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 "I thought you did," replied Swefling, in per- 
 plexity, and looking now at Larkin and now at 
 the fire. " It ain't as if I was a pauper, Mr. Larkin. 
 I don't wear weskits and boots that 's 'alfway to 
 the rag shop. If a feller throws it at me, meanin' 
 to be hinsultin', that I 'm a cabby, I wipes that off 
 my face as I wipes a London smut." 
 
 " And quite right, too. I was a cabby myself," 
 said Larkin, proudly. 
 
 " And my mother's brother 's gone and died and 
 left me four hundred pounds," continued Swefling, 
 with much greater assurance while a very bright 
 look suddenly appeared in his eyes. " And, as you 
 know, I 'm sleepin' now at Mrs. Wix's." 
 
 " S'pposin' I says straight off that I gives you 
 Dorrie ? " asked Larkin. 
 
 Swefling's excitement made him rise. 
 
 " If this ain't out and out luck," he exclaimed. 
 " No ? You means it, Mr. Larkin ? This goes im- 
 mense. Wy, sir, I can't 'ardly b'lieve it." 
 
 " In course I means it," said Larkin, authorita- 
 tively ; and then he began to unfold his plans. 
 
 " But s'pposin' Cupid won't shoot ? " asked Swef- 
 ling, in doubt. 
 
 " You means as Dorrie won't 'ave you ? " 
 
 Swefling nodded and waited, while Larkin re- 
 mained silent for a few moments. 
 
 " I '11 soothe the filly," replied Larkin at length.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 257 
 
 " I never fights a colt unless I thinks I '11 be wic- 
 torious. You listen to me." 
 
 He pointed mysteriously towards the east 
 
 " That 's heast, ain't it ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," answered Swefling. 
 
 " Well, she 's goin' out heast," continued Larkin. 
 " To-morrow night you 're goin' to drive 'er to Liver- 
 pool Street to catch the 8.45. She's goin' to the 
 farm to think things over a bit. She 's quite glad 
 to go wants to be out of this. You just drive 'er 
 to Liverpool Street, and say nothin' at all. She '11 
 come round to you all the sooner. Mind, say nothin' 
 at all. Jenkins " (the man who managed Larkin'a 
 farm) " '11 be meetin' 'er when you pull up at the 
 station, and all you 've got to do is to see 'er into his 
 'ands. I 'm too old in the tooth not to know wot 
 things women are. Oh yes, your eyes are blazin' ! 
 But don't be sich a fool as to think that Dome's 
 'ead went dizzy all along of that damned rascal 
 Marduke. She 's not that kind. But any'ow we 're 
 goin' to put 'er out of danger. Jenkins don't you 
 know, 'as got a crib in Canada, and so 'e 's goin' away. 
 I '11 put you in his place at the farm, and so you and 
 your wife '11 'ave it all to yourselves when I 'm dead 
 and gone." 
 
 It would be difficult, it would be impossible, to 
 give any accurate inventory of the sensations and 
 the emotions of Mr. Richard Swefling while this
 
 258 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 panorama of his future was unrolled before him. 
 A series of strange ejaculations, frequent handshak- 
 ings with Mr. Larkin, some moisture in the eyes and 
 certain trembling in his voice these were the vis- 
 ible symptoms of his fever. 
 
 " If it ain't stilton, if it ain't fit to put a feller 
 in a good skin, and if I don't love 'er as 'ard as a 
 'ammer, I '11 be shot ! " he exclaimed, grasping Mr. 
 Larkin's hand once more. 
 
 Sam advised him to " go steady, to handle the 
 ribbons like a man who knows the job," and offered 
 more advice in language peculiar to his own horsey 
 experience. Thus he counselled him " to leap on the 
 snaffle," and told him that he might take his dying 
 oath that " when a horse is skittish, four wheels are 
 better than two," and that " when a colt bears heavily 
 on the bit, raw lip is the result, and when raw lip 
 heals it becomes callous." 
 
 Swefling nodded assent; but when he began to 
 mention Marduke, Mr. Larkin seemed not to wish 
 to hear the name again. 
 
 " I knows in the Lor's Prayer," said Swefling, " it 
 says ' forgive us our sins as we forgive 'em as sins 
 against us.' It 's a wery good thing, no doubt ; but 
 if Marduke conies around 'ere any more, ten to 
 one the Lor's Prayer '11 go clean out of my 'ead. And 
 it 's not to a loryer I '11 go. I '11 take the paint off 
 the chaney with my own 'ands "
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 259 
 
 Mr. Larkin, however, shook his head, stopped him, 
 and said, " That 's not in my street" And so they 
 wished each other good night, and a proud man 
 walked out of Larkin's yard, muttering, " She 's a 
 strapper, she 's a spanker," and looked up to a dark- 
 ened window ; for Dorrie was asleep, unconscious that 
 her life was being arranged for her.
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH 
 
 DOEOTHY was in love with Marduke, and when Mr. 
 Larkin, with some signs of excitement and apology, 
 laid before her his plans for her marriage with 
 Swefling, she looked at him, incredulous and 
 aghast. 
 
 " It can just be as soon as you likes," he said. 
 " 'E '11 make a good manager for my business." 
 
 " Never, father, never ! " she replied, white and 
 trembling, and watching the scowl which gathered on 
 Larkin's red, rough face. 
 
 Larkin, who sincerely believed that he was doing 
 the best for Lord Swaffham's bastard, tried hard to 
 be patient for a quarter of an hour, but when she 
 became hysterical he became angry. Then he began 
 to abuse her, and to taunt her with Marduke, and 
 to threaten to put her out of the house. She denied 
 that she was hankering after Marduke, and wept and 
 blushed. Even in her terror and confusion and sub- 
 mission, however, there was something in Dorothy 
 which made Larkin conscious of his own inferiority. 
 She was hardly more than a child, but her dignity 
 
 irritated him. 
 
 260
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 261 
 
 " Good God ! " he suddenly exclaimed, " don't look 
 like that! I thought it was your mother standin' 
 there!" 
 
 Dorothy glanced at him, and he seemed to be 
 getting into a rage. But she boldly shook her head 
 to warn him that she would never consent to marry 
 Swefling. 
 
 " You won't, won't you ? " he said ; " but I 'm 
 thinkin' you shall. Look at me straight." 
 
 Dorothy turned her dark liquid eyes upon him 
 again, and then a strange feeling of repulsion seized 
 her. She shrank back with a little cry. 
 
 " Why, father, what is wrong ? " she asked. 
 
 " I says look at me straight, and you 're not doin* 
 it," Larkin replied. 
 
 " Yes, I am," she said, mustering all her courage 
 and facing Larkin, although she winced and quailed 
 when their eyes met. 
 
 " Tell me this," demanded Larkin, in a brow- 
 beating, challenging way : " you 're hankerin' after 
 that damned scoundrel Marduke ? You 're goin' to 
 give yourself up to him ? Tell me that." 
 
 "No," said Dorrie, quivering like a frightened 1 
 bird. 
 
 " So much the better," replied Larkin, a little more 
 gently; but he immediately spoiled the effect by 
 adding, " Yet, 'ow am I to b'lieve you ? Wot sort 
 of objection can you 'ave to Dick Swefling ? "
 
 262 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " I don't love him. ... I say nothing against 
 him," replied Dorrie. 
 
 " Wy, if you get 'im it would be a slice of luck 
 for such as you," retorted Larkin. But then he sud- 
 denly changed his tone. " Look 'ee 'ere, this is wot 's 
 goin' to 'appen. You just pack up and be ready to 
 go to the farm to-night, by the 8.45 for Colchester. 
 I 've told 'em at the farm to be ready for you. 
 Jenkins '11 be meetin' you at Liverpool Street." 
 
 Dorothy was delighted at this turn of events, for 
 nothing could have pleased her better. 
 
 " All right," continued Larkin, " that 's a good 
 gal, and p'r'aps you '11 larn to see wot 's in Dick in 
 good time. You just clear out o' this. You 've 
 been lookin' sicklified any'ow them past weeks, and 
 the farm '11 just suit you. Wot d' you say to Aunt 
 Muzzey goin' with you ? " 
 
 " I 'd rather go alone," said Dorrie. " Oh yes. 
 Let me go alone. I 'm so glad ! Let me spend all the 
 spring and summer out there." 
 
 " All right, you little wagabone," said Larkin. 
 " We '11 come out in summer, too. But you 're just 
 a filly wot 's allus wantin' to 'ave 'er' ead. Just the 
 fliest little bit of a filly that ever was. Well, go 
 and pack: 8.45 to-night." 
 
 It was in Larkin's character to settle things in this 
 brief, sudden way, and he liked all long stories to 
 be made short. As for Dorrie, she was only too
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 263 
 
 glad when the interview was over, too glad to pack, 
 too glad to escape to the country where she might 
 be able to dream of Marduke unmolested. The 
 truth was that she had been meditating escape, for 
 there was now something repulsive to her in the life 
 at Larkin's yard. Dim longings, a desire for a wider 
 world, strange ungovernable impulses towards free- 
 dom and towards love had taken possession of her. 
 She was, of course, ignorant of the real source of 
 those feelings, but every month that passed seemed 
 to make her more and more conscious that there was 
 something amiss between her and her surroundings. 
 It was doubtless the advent of Marduke which had 
 awakened these new thoughts and discontents and 
 ambitions. She had proof that she was admired, and 
 admired by a gentleman in a great position. A sud- 
 den idea gladdened her and made her cheeks burn. 
 Did Marduke ever hunt in Essex? Perhaps she 
 might have a chance of seeing him before the hunting 
 season came to an end ? As she packed her box of 
 paints and paint brushes, her easel, some canvasses 
 and her little artist's stool, great schemes took hold 
 of her imagination. She would paint a wonderful 
 landscape on the borders of the forest, and perhaps 
 a British Rider would be in it. For although she had 
 seen Marduke only twice, she knew his face thor- 
 oughly, and with that extraordinary accuracy of 
 vision which love brings, she had already drawn it
 
 264 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 in pencil several times. She counted the names of 
 great women artists, and asked herself why should not 
 she become a Le Brun, or a Kauffimann, or a Bon- 
 heur ? And so she packed and packed, while all the 
 time her brain was packing itself with busy thoughts. 
 Ah, that intoxicating dance ! What an age it seemed- 
 since the gala night at Jellini's. And this set her 
 thinking of Herr Habenichts, whom she would be 
 sorry to leave. But she would write to him from 
 the farm; perhaps on the sly she would invite the 
 old man to have tea with her, and a stroll in the 
 forest some sunny afternoon. He would love that! 
 and she would dance in the forest ! Her little Hessian 
 box was now almost full, and she stopped packing, 
 and looked at herself in her mirror. Yes, she was 
 ambitious, and she knew it. Her lips were red, her 
 eyes, with their deep, steady look, seemed like still 
 wells, and her hair had that sheen and richness which 
 Marduke had described with so much enthusiasm to 
 the angry old dowager. The day was passing, but 
 not quickly enough, and Dorothy longed to start for 
 Liverpool Street Station. She went downstairs and 
 attempted to be pleasant to Mrs. Muzzey, but Mrs. 
 Muzzey was in a very subdued and silent mood. And 
 something had happened to Mrs. Bleeks, who was 
 nowhere to be seen. When Dorothy asked Larkin that 
 afternoon where Mrs. Bleeks was, he replied mys- 
 teriously that she had gone away.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 265 
 
 " To the Farm ? " asked Dorothy, in dismay. 
 
 " No," said Larkin ; " don't worry me. I 'm glad 
 you 're packed up. Dick Swefling '11 drive you to 
 the station." 
 
 Although Dorothy was not pleased at the news, 
 she said nothing, and waited impatiently for the 
 evening. About four o'clock she had looked out of 
 her window, and had noticed that a fog was coming 
 down. For the month was still January, and during 
 the last few days the atmosphere had been growing 
 denser. It was now half-past four, but the street 
 lamps had already been lit at two o'clock. First a 
 light mist appeared, woven as of thin muslin, but 
 gradually it became thicker and darker in its texture. 
 Swefling was not due in Larkin's yard till about 
 half-past seven, but he was already turning home- 
 wards as a precaution against delays. He had again 
 been wandering rather aimlessly up and down the 
 streets, for his thoughts were fixed on the wonderful 
 promise which Mr. Larkin had made. Of course, 
 he was tormented by the fear that Mr. Larkin's 
 friendliness would avail nothing if Dorothy remained 
 proud. Meantime, he resolved to follow the old 
 man's advice, to make no immediate advances, merely 
 to say " Good evening," and lift his hat, and drive 
 the little lady in silence to Liverpool Street Station. 
 And because of the fog and the night he need hardly 
 have troubled to smarten himself. New gloves, new
 
 266 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 collar, hat that had been specially ironed would re- 
 main alike invisible; for the fog was taking the 
 gloss off everything. In Larkin's yard it had crept 
 into every cranny and recess, and the gas jets were 
 burning in the stables. At half -past five Mr. Larkin 
 said that Dorothy should wait till the following day. 
 
 " Give me another cab and I '11 start immediately," 
 she suggested, rather pleased thus to disDense with 
 Swefling's services. 
 
 " Oh, it 's not that. Sweff '11 come all right, don't 
 you worry 'e '11 come. In course he will," said 
 Larkin, laughing. " Besides, it '11 'urt 'is feelin's 
 if you took another man. 'E 's allus drove the f am'ly. 
 Just you stop a- worry in'." 
 
 "All right," said Dorothy, vexed, and waited for 
 two hours. 
 
 She was in the plain dark blue costume trimmed 
 with black braid which, together with a neat beaver 
 hat with black feathers, made her look so pretty and 
 so far above her class that Mrs. Bleeks and Mrs. 
 Muzzey were offended and could find nothing dis- 
 agreeable enough to say about the milliner and the 
 dressmaker. On that afternoon, however, neither of 
 the aunts was to be seen, and Dorothy wondered 
 whether Mr. Larkin had ordered them to keep out 
 of the way. She stood impatiently again at the open 
 door where the fog was blowing in. Her luggage 
 was on the doorstep.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 267 
 
 " Shut the door and come in," said Larkin ; " no 
 use standin' chitterin' there, and fillin' the rooms 
 with fog. Wy, there 's a fog ! It 'a a nigger for 
 blackness, and I 'ave n't seen the like for ten years. 
 You can't go. That '11 last till to-morrow." 
 
 " If you had only given me a cab two hours ago," 
 pouted Dorothy. 
 
 " It 's so thick you could shake 'ands with it," 
 continued Larkin. " And it 's one o' them clingin' 
 sticky ones wot wraps itself round you, and won't 
 leave go. Well, there 's seven cabs out in it, and I 
 jest 'ope there '11 be no smash. Wot 's that ? " 
 
 He had heard a noise in the yard, and presently 
 blurred lights appeared coming towards the door. 
 
 " That 's Audacity, I know 'is step," exclaimed 
 Larkin. 
 
 When the cab drew up, and Swelling's figure be- 
 came recognisable, Larkin cried 
 
 " Well, lad, if this ain't a stunner. You can cut 
 it like a loaf." 
 
 " No mistake," replied Swelling, " she 's a 
 thumper." 
 
 " Feel like bein' up a tree ? " 
 
 " Just a bit. But it ain't gettin' no worse. Big 
 smash in the Strand, though, and it 's wery darkish 
 in Oxford Street. Good evening, Miss Dorrie," 
 
 " Good evening," said Dorrie ; " we should start 
 at once."
 
 268 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " Wot d' you say, Dick ? " asked Larkin, as lie 
 patted Audacity's nose. " Talk abaht lookin' for 
 a pin in a 'aystack ! It 's one o' them damp ones, 
 too, the 'oss is drippin'." 
 
 " I '11 'ave a try," said Swefling ; " if we starts now 
 we could do it. Funny thing, the electric lights don't 
 get through it at all, and the old gas lamps does better. 
 I '11 'ave a go at the side streets till Finsbury Square, 
 and p'r'aps that '11 do the trick." 
 
 Larkin whistled, and Vardy and another stableman 
 came running to put the luggage on the top. Dorothy 
 was conscious of a strange excitement as she bade 
 good-bye and as her " father " said " Mind and take 
 care of yerself." He shouted it a second time while 
 the cab disappeared. 
 
 What a night for thieves ! The street lights were 
 asphyxiated, and the great electric lamps in the road- 
 ways were reduced to the value of a few candles. 
 Every light in London was labouring against this vast 
 extinguisher. Bleared and dim, they might have been 
 farthing dips attempting to dissipate the black, in- 
 sidious, all-covering, and bewildering mist. From 
 Highgate to Streatham, from Greenwich to Brentford 
 and from Richmond to Hackney, London and her 
 suburbs were blotted out. Fine mist which is sun- 
 shot and diaphanous, woven as of aerial lace, might 
 be the handiwork of fays; but this dead black thing 
 full of detritus, a kind of floating atmospheric desert,
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 269 
 
 sand-like, and withering and eclipsing all life and 
 light and motion, might be the work of demons. Foot 
 passengers clutched at railings or stood on the kerb- 
 stones listening for the sound of wheels, and peering 
 for a clear space to dart across and vanish again in 
 the darkness. There was a sinister silence in the side 
 streets, which seemed like lanes leading into infinite 
 Saharas. But in the broader thoroughfares, where 
 the traffic was coming to a deadlock, there was a sen- 
 sation, a murmur as of mighty machinery slowing 
 down; and the air was filled with the snorting of 
 horses, the vibration of motor vehicles standing stock 
 still, the warning cries of drivers or the crash of col- 
 lision, the policeman's whistle, the order to stop or to 
 go on, and the detonation of railway signals, and here 
 comes a flaming fire engine attempting to push its 
 impatient way to the ringing of a loud, insistent 
 alarum bell. Not a public clock visible, not a tower, 
 for round every tower and on every London roof the 
 fog lay heavy like a Dead Sea. 
 
 The cab stopped. Swefling had chosen the side 
 streets, but they were the side streets of an unlit laby- 
 rinth. Dorothy began to feel afraid. The cab lamps 
 were so powerless that she could not even see Auda- 
 city's ears, and not even a buckle of the harness was 
 glimmering. The window was closed, and the fog 
 was right up against it Suddenly the vehicle gave 
 a lurch, and then the trap door was opened.
 
 270 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " I 'm blowed if I ain't on the pavement," said 
 Swefling, " 'angin' on to a railin'. The light 's gone 
 clean out of that street lamp. That 's wot we banged 
 against. Blowed if I knows where we are. Woa, 
 woa, woa ! " 
 
 There was a sudden crash as the lamp fell and the 
 iron post and the glass cage rang and jingled on the 
 pavement. The horse gave a spring as if about to 
 bolt. 
 
 " Woa ! woa ! " cried Swefling, reining him in. 
 " That 's the bally old street lamp down ! Woa, hoss, 
 there 's a daisy. If this ain't as dark 's a wolf's 
 mouth, I '11 be shot." 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " asked Dorothy, 
 agitated and peering from side to side. " Can't you 
 go on ? " 
 
 " I don't know whether I 'm north or south, heast 
 or west," said Swefling ; " we don't carry compasses 
 on this job, and s'pposin' I 'ad one, much good I 'd 
 get from it on a night like this. Woa, woa ! " 
 
 There was something in his voice which disturbed 
 Dorothy. He did not seem to be very eager to find 
 the way, and when he began to chuckle as if it were 
 all a good joke and a laughing matter, Dorothy became 
 actually nervous, and she wished that she had not set 
 out 
 
 " I Ve lost the train," she said, almost angrily. 
 
 " For all I knows, we 're on the road to Kensington
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 271 
 
 or Lambeth," muttered Swefling. " Fact is, if I once 
 got near the river I 'd be pleased." 
 
 " The river ? " asked Dorothy. " Why ? " 
 
 " In course," he explained, " it would be a long way 
 round, but once I got to London Bridge I would go 
 straight for Liverpool Street." 
 
 " Well, what 's to be done ? " asked Dorothy, irri- 
 tated and very unhappy. 
 
 Now Richard Swefling had been a straight lad, 
 and in a moment of perfect self-control he never would 
 have taken advantage of any girl, least of all of Doro- 
 thy. But at that moment he did not possess complete 
 self-mastery. The darkness tempted him, and he for- 
 got Larkin's advice to make no advances. He suddenly 
 drew up the cab's front window, and said in a curious 
 tone, " Want some fresh air ? " and then burst out 
 laughing again. Apparently they were in a street 
 lined on both sides with warehouses which, of course, 
 were at that hour closed. Not a light was visible 
 except on the opposite pavement, where a gas lamp was 
 struggling to shine, but was creating only a pale and 
 useless shimmer. Not a footstep in the street, but far 
 off there was a dull intermittent thud, as of traffic 
 started, and then suddenly stopped, and from below 
 the roadway came the vibration caused by an under- 
 ground train. Dorothy clasped her hands while a 
 horrible sense of helplessness bewildered and sickened 
 her. Before she was aware of the event Swefling had
 
 272 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 descended from the cab, but when she became con- 
 scious of a dark something moving near the step, and 
 as she felt the vehicle sink under the weight of someone 
 entering it, and then heard a noise on the footboard, 
 then a voice, and felt a hand upon her, she shrieked. 
 
 " You coward, you coward ! " she cried, anticipat- 
 ing roughness and evil. 
 
 " Wy, wot 's wrong ?" he asked while she was writh- 
 ing like a bird in a cage. " Don't be frightened. Mr. 
 Larkin spoke to me. Wy, stop the 'owlin', Miss Dor- 
 rie. I 'm just wantin' to 'ave a little talk with you." 
 
 He sat on the footboard while with one hand he 
 drew down the reins from the " butterfly," so as to 
 hold Audacity in check. With his other hand he took 
 one of Dorothy's feet, and then he bent, and kissed it. 
 
 " I 'm wantin' to kiss your mouth just like that," 
 he said. " Don't you move ! " 
 
 Terror had taken speech from her, but she was 
 struggling to get out of the cab. 
 
 " Wot 's the row ? " demanded Swefling. " Keep 
 quiet, will you ? Mr. Larkin knows all about it, and 
 says, says 'e, 'e 's pleased. Dorrie, jest say you love 
 me. Wy, talk abaht fogs ! I J m in a fog plenty, if 
 you says you does n't love me. Jest say you '11 'ave 
 me, as the gal said in the pantermine at Derury Lane. 
 I can't 'elp lovin' you. It 's jest like splittin' a coker- 
 nut out comes the milk." 
 
 Apparently he was now fastening the reins to the
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 273 
 
 " butterfly," for he was standing on the footboard, 
 and was reaching upwards. When, a moment later, 
 she felt him attempting to take hold of her, she made 
 a shield of her arms to protect her face. A feeling 
 of loathing and dread, and a sensation as of coming 
 paralysis overwhelmed her. He protested that he 
 meant no harm, but he took an oath and declared that 
 although he were to be hanged for it he would kiss her. 
 And so having thrust her arms asunder he made her 
 submit to the kiss. Then she struck him. 
 
 " It 's true Mr. Larkin said I was to ride myself in 
 the curb," said Swefling, baffled and retreating. " But 
 I simply could n't. Well, s'pposin' we try for Liver- 
 pool Street? Will that please you 2 I '11 do my best." 
 
 She remained silent as if in a swoon, whereas she 
 was terribly awake and enraged. While Swefling was 
 remounting to his perch, Dorothy, in obedience to a 
 sudden impulse, quietly left the cab, unseen, and dis- 
 appeared within the fog. She heard Swefling drive 
 cautiously down the street, while she groped her way 
 to an iron railing, part of which moved inwards at her 
 touch. It was a gate. She found herself on a stair- 
 way which led down to the store cellars of a ware- 
 house, and she sank on the stairs, and began to weep 
 hysterically. 
 
 It was not even the hazard of the streets which 
 made her afraid, but the suspicion, now become a cer- 
 tainty, that there was a conspiracy to make her marry
 
 274 THE OLD DAKCE MASTER 
 
 Swefling. The idea filled her with disgust and revolt. 
 Larkin's insistence and Swefling's conduct made her 
 resolve at that moment never to return to the yard. 
 She felt a curious sensation in her left hand, and she 
 discovered that during her struggle with Swefling he 
 had thrust a ring over her gloved finger. It was the 
 ring which he had supposed was set with rubies, 
 whereas it was set only with garnets. She took it off, 
 and flung it into the street. Her decision was fixed. 
 To go to the farm might be even more dangerous than 
 to return to the yard, because Swefling, with Larkin's 
 consent, would probably follow her. And as regards 
 the man whom she still supposed to be her father, she 
 confessed to herself that her feeling towards him had 
 been changing during the last two years. He was 
 somestimes mysterious; he was occasionally tender, 
 but he was often harsh and forbidding. And when 
 she remembered what she had endured at the hands 
 of Mrs. Bleeks and Mrs. Muzzey, all the repulsive 
 features of what had been her home caused her to 
 decide to strike out for herself and be free. Her 
 artistic instincts, which were genuine and even deep, 
 had been long suppressed. Why not, like many an- 
 other girl, face the world? But as she stared into 
 the fog-filled street she asked herself in perplexity 
 what her first move was to be ? Where to go ? How 
 to subsist ? Her luggage was in the cab, and she had 
 nothing but the clothes she was wearing, and about
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 275 
 
 sixty shillings in her purse. Everything which she 
 possessed was either in Larkin's yard or at the farm 
 in Essex. Then she thought of the payments of money 
 which Larkin now and again made to her, the source 
 of which was to be made clear when she came of age. 
 She would lose that too ? She sat shivering and weep- 
 ing for more than an hour. At last two possibilities 
 presented themselves. She might earn her living by 
 painting or by dancing? Suddenly she thought of 
 Herr Habenichts, who was the only friend she had. 
 She rose, and began walking cautiously up the street. 
 She grew more frightened as she advanced, and she 
 began to wonder whether Swefling had already dis- 
 covered her escape. As she groped her way along the 
 railings she turned once or twice because she had the 
 illusion of the sound of footsteps behind. Then she 
 began to run, but soon stopped, since she might only 
 be running into danger. She decided to walk all night 
 until the fog lifted, and then go to Herr Habenichts 
 at Mrs. Wix's Hotel. She slackened her pace still 
 further. Hours would pass before the fog cleared, 
 and therefore it scarcely mattered where she walked 
 as long as she wasted time. Meantime the dreadful 
 night seemed to grow blacker and blacker, and the 
 place where she was walking was lit only at intervals 
 by street lamps which had the appearance of ghostly 
 tapers round which the fog was circling. Although 
 it was a cold winter's night, the walking and the ex-
 
 276 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 citement were making Dorothy warm, and she re- 
 moved the little fur boa which she wore round her 
 neck. She was still dazed by her encounter with 
 Swefling, when she felt a hand on her waist. A man 
 in a soft felt hat was pushing his face close to hers. 
 " You just come along/' he said. " What are you 
 wandering " But as she gave a cry he dropped her, 
 and then disappeared. This experience made her 
 waver in her resolution and she was tempted to try to 
 find the way back to Larkin's yard. The street led 
 towards a wider thoroughfare in which she discovered 
 a dim phantasmagoria of lights and traffic. She took 
 courage. She had been walking for more than an 
 hour, and now she heard a clock strike ten. Presently 
 she found herself in Farringdon Road and recognised 
 it. She turned southward towards the Embankment. 
 Figures like dark ghosts flitted past her, and a sense 
 of fear and of loneliness and of an unknown future 
 began to trouble her again. The fog, however, wa3 
 less dense in the Strand, and she could see the lights 
 on Ludgate Hill. Suddenly she began to run down 
 Bridge Road to Blackfriars, for a hansom was passing 
 a lamp post, and she saw her own box on the top of 
 the cab. She turned into a dark doorway, and stood 
 with her back to the street She waited breathlessly 
 during a few moments. But Swefling had apparently 
 not noticed her, and she came out of her hiding-place. 
 Next door there was a public telephone call office,
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 277 
 and as she peered in, and saw a light, a new idea sug- 
 gested itself. She opened the glass door, and walked 
 into the little compartment, and opened the Directory. 
 Herr Habenichts had frequently made her telephone 
 from Jellini's to Mrs. Wix's Hotel, but she had for- 
 gotten Mrs. Wix's number. When she had found it, 
 she lifted the receiver to her ear, dropped her two- 
 pence into the slot, and waited. In a few moments 
 Wunn was talking to her, and in an excited voice she 
 was asking for Herr Habenichts. But since at least 
 half an hour passed before she succeded in getting 
 into communication with him, we may take the oppor- 
 tunity of discovering what was happening at the other 
 end of the wire.
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH 
 
 " IT 's no use sayin' ye does n't want it, for ye does ! 
 I never will listen to sich words as ' nothin' more to- 
 day.' I ax yer parding, and says it ain't true. Never 
 mind the fog. It don't take the beauty off them dolls. 
 Jist look at the little hinnocents. I gives valer for 
 money. It 's not yer charity I ax. I 'd as soon go to 
 the work'us. I ain't ashamed to yarn my grub on 
 the streets sellin' dolls. I 'm as honest a woman as 
 ever walked in two shoes. And if Mr. Larkin, wot 's 
 my brother, says another word I '11 join a buryin' 
 club." 
 
 Mrs. Bleeks, who was wrapped in an immense 
 brown woollen shawl with draggled fringe, was sit- 
 ting on a three-legged street stool next a little table 
 on which a coster's gas lantern glimmered in the fog. 
 On the table there was standing a deep basket out 
 of which peeped the flaxen heads and rosy counte- 
 nances of a crowd of wooden and waxen dolls, some 
 naked and some clothed. Gin and bitters, together 
 with frequent draughts of shandy gaff, in which she 
 had indulged throughout the afternoon, had made her 
 fall asleep before the fog had become densest, and 
 when she awoke in the dark she was terrified. 
 
 278
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 279 
 
 " All gone 'ome ? " she asked as she became aware 
 that she lacked an audience. . " I might 'ave been 
 robbed or murdered. Oh, wot 's goin' to 'appen to 
 me ? Ain't this fog a stunner ! As thick 's a blanket, 
 but not quite as warm and comfy." 
 
 She then uttered a wild hysterical laugh which 
 shot down the street with the velocity of a bullet 
 while its echoes ricochetted from side to side. She 
 tried to peer across, and saw on the opposite side the 
 blurred illumination of the window of the public 
 house where she had been supplied with drink. As 
 she rose from the kerb-stone to collect her merchan- 
 dise, there was visible in the flare of the lamp a 
 placard strapped to her breast and bearing the in- 
 scription " Mr. Larkin's sister, turned on the 
 street by Mr. Larkin. Who will buy dolls ? " Thus 
 arrayed she had sat during one full day on the 
 pavement fronting Larkin's yard, like a she Lear out 
 in the tempest. And she had passed two uncom- 
 fortable nights in a very inferior lodging-house, to 
 whose owner, Mrs. Mudd, she had revealed the 
 wickedness of Mr. Larkin and the meanness of Mrs. 
 Muzzey. 
 
 " It 's becos I 'm that proud," she said. " I 'm 
 not like Mrs. Muzzey wot '11 take anythink from Sam. 
 I was allus the proudest of the fem'ly, Mrs. Mudd. 
 But sich cruelty was never heerd on. Turnin' a ole 
 party on- the winter streets becos I tells the truth abaht
 
 280 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 Sam's darter wot ain't 'is darter arter all. Oh, 
 Samuel Larkin, if you says another word I '11 join 
 a buryin' club." 
 
 Her adventure had been brief and disastrous, and 
 the fog finished it. In desperation and like ISTiobe 
 destroying her children, she seized one of the rosiest 
 of the waxen puppets, wrung its neck as if it had 
 been a chicken, and threw it into the gutter. The 
 truth was, however, that Mrs. Bleeks had not been 
 turned out of the house by Mr. Larkin. He certainly 
 made use of very violent language to her when he 
 heard that she had been guilty of betraying to Monty 
 Marduke the secret of Dorothy's birth and parentage. 
 At first Mrs. Bleeks moped and wept, but suddenly 
 resentment and pride seized her, and she resolved 
 to be no longer beholden to her brother. Penniless 
 although she would become, she decided to shift for 
 herself, and she left the place in indignation. It 
 afforded her a malicious satisfaction to disgrace her 
 brother. And therefore with the few shillings which 
 she possessed she purchased a street table, a coster's 
 lantern, a deep basket, and the dolls, and took up 
 her position near the entrance to Larkin' s yard. 
 During an hour or two she sat chained to the rail- 
 ing, and she threatened the bystanders that she would 
 throw away the key of the padlock. But these dem- 
 onstrations did not seem to disturb Mr. Larkin, whose 
 business went on in the usual way. The house door
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 281 
 
 remained closed while Mrs. Bleeks continued to send 
 challenges from the other side of the railings. 
 
 " Samuel Larkin," she said, while a crowd of small 
 boys made a semicircle about her, " I 'm hindepen- 
 dent. I 'opes to 'ave a barrer of my own some day 
 and per'aps a hass. Can I manage a hass ? In coorse 
 I can, and 'e don't need no groomin' like them 'osses 
 of yourn. And, Liza" (addressing Mrs. Muzzey), 
 " I allus know'd you was a cad. I allus know'd you 
 'ad n't spirit. I would n't sit at the same table. I 'd 
 sooner join a buryin' club and get buried. That's 
 wot I says." 
 
 A policeman, however, had observed the gathering 
 crowd, and had ordered Mrs. Bleeks to unchain her- 
 self and to move on; so that she was compelled to 
 take up a position in a side street about three or 
 four hundred yards away, and it was here that the 
 fog had descended upon her. 
 
 " Oh," says she, " it makes me cough. Wot 's the 
 bally use of them fogs? Wot good does they do? 
 And 'ow am I to get them dolls 'ome ? And where 's 
 'ome ? Oh, it 's a blastit shame ! Where am I to 
 doss? Sich things never did 'appen in the reign of 
 the blessed Wictoria. I ain't got the browns to pay 
 for a bed at Mrs. Mudd's. She won't look at me. 
 Says I 'm a wagabone. Not a tanner for a shake 
 down. And beer is a dewty you owes yoursilf in 
 sich a fog. Oh, it makes me cough ! "
 
 282 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 She heard the sound of wheels passing down the 
 street, and presently the lamps of a four-wheeled 
 vehicle became visible. Perhaps it was one of Mr. 
 Larkin's cabs returning to the stable. At intervals 
 foot passengers passed along the pavement, and some 
 of them stopped to glance at Mrs. Bleeks and the 
 basket with its rosy freight. In the light of the 
 coster's lantern the curve of her bonnet, and the 
 sharp-featured, audacious old face beneath it attracted 
 the attention of the more inquisitive, and caused them 
 to stop longer than pleased her. 
 
 " Wot I ax," she muttered, addressing herself to 
 a young loiterer of the male sex, " is this, wot 's the 
 good of lookin' and lookin' if yer ain't goin' to buy 
 the dolls ? It 's nothin' but imperence, that 7 s wot 
 I says." 
 
 " Oh, my eye, Mrs. Bleeks ! " exclaimed Vardy, 
 who was on his way home after his day's work in 
 Larkin's yard, " I says it was you directly I sees 
 yer'ole bonnet and the dolls. Wot sort of a hexist- 
 ence is this of yourn ? " 
 
 Mrs. Bleeks turned, and looked at him, and began 
 to weep. 
 
 " I 'm starvin', Vardy," says she, " and it 's the 
 last coach wen an ole lydy like I am takes to sellin' 
 dolls on the street." 
 
 " Yes 'm," replied Vardy, stepping nearer, and 
 with his greasy hand seizing a doll by the head. 
 " Oh, blazes, 'ere 's a stunner, 'ere 's a smasher ! "
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 283 
 
 He began to stroke the doll, and pull its hair, and 
 then he burst into a guffaw. 
 
 "Stop 'andlin' the doll like that," cried Mrs. 
 [Bleeks; "yer not groomin' a cab 'oss." 
 
 " I '11 buy the blarmed thing," said Vardy, " for 
 my sister's kid. Wot 's the price, Mrs. Bleeks ? " 
 
 " Oh," she replied, weeping again, " I '11 give it 
 for nuffin'. I remember as you used to tie my 'ead 
 wen I 'ad the 'eadaches dreadful bad." 
 
 " Thankee, Mrs. Bleeks. But wot are yer doin' 
 sellin' dolls in this fog ? Mr. Larkin 's wery down- 
 right mad at yer disgracin' the yard," said Vardy, as 
 if conscious of the wounded dignity of the family 
 and the firm. " We did n't hexpect it of yer." 
 
 " I 'm very nervoused, Vardy," whispered Mrs. 
 Bleeks ; " I dunnow 'ow as I 'm to sleep to-night. I 
 was thinkin', Vardy " and she paused. 
 
 " Wot was yer thinkin', Mrs. Bleeks ? " 
 
 "I was thinkin' as you might get me in quiet, 
 and put me in one of the kebs in the coach'ouse, 
 a four-wheeler for preference. I 'd jist ait in it all 
 night." 
 
 "Wy not, Mrs. Bleeks?" 
 
 " Or, per'aps," she continued, " you could put me 
 in a loose box, Vardy ? " 
 
 " Right you are, Mrs. Bleeks," said he, " I '11 do 
 it, and it '11 be a stunnin' good doss." 
 
 " Plenty of straw, Vardy ? "
 
 284 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " No hend," said he, " warm and dry." 
 
 " And the coast clear ? " asked Mrs. Bleeks, anx- 
 iously. " Sam must n't know, nor Mrs. Muzzey. I 
 ain't got a 'aypenny for a bed." 
 
 " It 's all gay," said Vardy, encouraging her ; 
 " I '11 put yer in wivout anyone seein' yer." 
 
 " If you '11 carry the dolls and the table, and the 
 light, Vardy, I '11 manage to carry the stool," said 
 Mrs. Bleeks. 
 
 " Yes," he said, and then burst into a laugh again. 
 " Wy, Mrs. Bleeks, yer jist like a sandwich feller wiv 
 that there placard." 
 
 " Vardy," exclaimed Mrs. Bleeks, hobbling after 
 him, "I'mstarvinM" 
 
 In one hand Vardy carried the coster's light 
 which threw its rays into the surrounding darkness, 
 and illuminated fitfully the black, greasy pavement, 
 and in the other he held the little street table, while 
 the basket of dolls was slung on his arm. 
 
 " Not so fast, Vardy," cried Mrs. Bleeks. " Oh, 
 it 's wery cold." 
 
 " Yes 'm," said Vardy, still leading, but he stopped 
 because Mrs. Bleeks was calling to him that she was 
 tired. She had sat down on the three-legged stool, 
 and she seemed about to faint, or she was feigning 
 fainting. 
 
 It was at this moment that a gentleman came 
 along, and when he saw Vardy holding the light aloft,
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 285 
 
 and bending over the figure on the stool, he inquired 
 if the lady was taken ill. 
 
 " Vat is wrong vith de lady ? " he asked, in a 
 sympathetic tone. 
 
 For the gentleman was Herr Habenichts, who had 
 been attending a lecture on Goethe at the Goethe 
 Society, and was returning to Wix's Residential Hotel. 
 The exalted thoughts of which his mind was full did 
 not prevent him, however, fulfilling the promise which 
 he had made to Monty Marduke to keep an eye on 
 Larkin's Yard. And he was making his way thither 
 with the intention of questioning some of the ostlers 
 as to whether Dorothy was still in London. It hap- 
 pened to be the actual night of escapade in which 
 Dorothy had started for Liverpool Street Station in 
 Swefling's cab. At the moment when Herr Habe- 
 nichts met Mrs. Bleeks, Dorothy was attempting to 
 get into telephonic communication with him. But for 
 him the fog had no terrors, and he came along re- 
 peating to himself the verse that had formed the text 
 of the lecture which had given him such delight 
 
 " Es bildet ein Talent sich in der Stille, 
 Sich ein Charakter in dem Strom der Welt." 
 
 " Genius develops in isolation, Character in the struggle 
 of the world." 
 
 " Ach, ja ! " he was muttering, as he perceived the 
 flare of the coster's lantern, " one great thought shines 
 like dat light in de fog."
 
 286 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 And yet in spite of the light he suddenly stumbled 
 against the stool on which Mrs. Bleeks was sitting. 
 
 " Wot are yer kickin' at ? " demanded Vardy. 
 " Can't yer look where yer goin' ? Don't yer see the 
 lydy is dyin' ? " 
 
 Herr Habenichts raised his hat, expressed the 
 most profound apology, and asked if he could be of 
 any service. He took Mrs. Bleeks's right hand, and 
 felt her pulse while she groaned. In an authoritative 
 voice he then ordered Vardy instantly to run for a 
 doctor and for brandy. 
 
 " Oh, I '11 be shot! " cried Yardy, " if it ain't that 
 same ole fureigner, 'Err 'Abenicks, wot teached Miss 
 Dorrie dancin'." 
 
 Herr Habenichts, by means of an interjection in his 
 own language, expressed his surprise at the encounter, 
 and when he understood that it was Mrs. Bleeks whom 
 he was addressing, he was tempted to walk away as 
 quickly as possible. But she appeared to be really 
 ill, and Vardy declared that she was about to expire 
 in their hands. 
 
 " Madam," inquired Herr Habenichts, " vat can 
 I do vor you ? " 
 
 " It makes me cough," said Mrs. Bleeks, " and 
 it 's a dewty you owes yourself to drink a glass of gin 
 and bitters." 
 
 " Vat do you say ? " asked Herr Habenichts. 
 
 " My mouth 's like an oven," murmured Mrs. Bleeks.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 287 
 
 " It 's gin she wants," Vardy explained. " 'Er 
 pulse is stoppin'. There 's a pub hup the street." 
 
 And then he broke into a silly laugh again. Herr 
 Habenichts reproved him, drew out a shilling, and 
 ordered him to bring brandy instantly. Vardy, hav- 
 ing deposited the table and the doll basket, darted 
 across the street, and disappeared, while Herr Habe- 
 nichts held the coster's lantern. When Mrs. Bleeks 
 understood who was standing beside her she said she 
 was " dreadful sorry " for the manner in which she 
 had received Herr Habenichts during his recent visit 
 to Larkin's yard. And then she opened a diatribe on 
 Dorrie, Sam Larkin, and Mrs. Muzzey, and explained 
 how it Was that she was hawking dolls. 
 
 " It 's like this," she said, " I 'm proud. I speaks 
 back to Sam. Some people is like whelks wot takes 
 the bilin' quiet, but crabs and lobsters kicks as they 
 biles. Now there 's Mrs. Muzzey, my sister, she 's a 
 whelk. She 's no spirit. I allus said she was a cad. 
 She '11 take anythink from Sam. But I 'm a crab 
 and lobster. I kicks as I biles. I 'm the proudest of 
 the fem'ly. And that 's wy I goes on the streets 
 sooner as eat Sam's bread. Is 'e comin' ? " 
 
 " Vat ? " asked Herr Habenichts, who understood 
 little of what she said, but was willing to open for 
 her all the valves of his sympathy. 
 
 " Is the boy not comin' ? " demanded Mrs. Bleeks, 
 impatiently. " 'E 's drinkin' it hisself."
 
 288 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " He come soon," said Herr Habenichts, attempt- 
 ing to soothe her. 
 
 " I feels," continued Mrs. Bleeks, " like I 've been 
 playin' the bagpipes, with nuffin' to quench the spark 
 in mj throat." 
 
 " He come ! " exclaimed Herr Habenichts. " Ah, 
 de smart leetle boy." For Vardy had arrived. 
 
 Herr Habenichts took the glass of brandy from 
 him, and handed it to Mrs. Bleeks, who swallowed the 
 contents in one draught. Vardy said that he would 
 take the glass to the public house when he passed up 
 the street on his way home, and that he was now ready 
 to start for the yard, and to carry the things again. 
 Herr Habenichts, who considered the opportunity 
 excellent for obtaining news about Dorothy, offered 
 to accompany them, and he gave his arm to Mrs. 
 Bleeks, and took charge of the three-legged stool. 
 Vardy went forward with the light, and Herr Habe- 
 nichts thought that the scene was very picturesque. 
 Mrs. Bleeks seemed to have recovered, and she became 
 talkative. 
 
 " In coorse," she said, " it ain't your fault 
 you 're a German." 
 
 " I 'm vrom Vienna," replied Herr Habenichts. 
 
 " I does n't blame you for bein' a f ureigner. You 
 can't no ways 'elp it," she continued, unperturbed. 
 " You seems a niceish sort of gent, arter all. Are you 
 married ? "
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 289 
 
 " STein," he said. 
 
 For some unaccountable reason Mrs. Bleeks began 
 to talk about widows. 
 
 " In gin'ral," she said, " a thing never lives to be 
 second 'and if it ain't a real good thing at fust And 
 that 's the truth about widders." 
 
 Herr Habenichts, however, was more interested in 
 the courage which had driven her on the streets, and 
 as they walked along he questioned her about her 
 experience. Mrs. Bleeks was holding her head high, 
 and seemed to be very pleased to be on Herr Habe- 
 nichts' arm. 
 
 " I Ve been sellin' dolls," she replied, " for two 
 days and a 'arf. When you sells downright down, in 
 coorse the profit is wery small. And then it 's like a 
 strange dog passin' through a village. All the other 
 dogs wot 's jealous sets upon it. And so the costers 
 sets upon me, savage like, she-dragons jewin' awy as 
 'ard as ever they can, pricin' hup their own trash, and 
 downcryin' yourn. Lor' love us, sich a life ! I puts 
 my table next a party wot was as close as wax and 
 sold sponges. Now I knows a good sponge when I 
 sees it. And so says I to 'er, ' Them sponges,' says I, 
 * ain't fit to groom a hass with.' Oh, she got dread- 
 ful shirtey, and calls me an ole wagabone wot drinks 
 gin. Says I, wantin' to be wery civil and changin' 
 the subject not to give offence, says I, quite soft and 
 kindly, ' Wot exterornary things sponges is ! Is it a
 
 290 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 hanimal or a wegetable ? ' ' Oh,' says she, ' yer a 
 hanimal.' i Well,' says I, ' if I 'm a hanimal, you 're 
 a wegetable, and a poor cabbage at that ! ' It was 
 dreadful nasty. Lor' love you, it needs the hexercise 
 of the hintellect to make any 'eadway." 
 
 They had now reached the gate of Larkin's yard, 
 and Mrs. Bleeks began to tremble. She said that if 
 her brother came out she would die on the spot. She 
 leaned heavily on Herr Habenichts' arm, and de- 
 clared that she would not proceed one step until she 
 had been assured that the house door was shut, that 
 the window blinds were drawn, and that neither Mr. 
 Larkin nor Mrs. Muzzey was hovering about the 
 yard. As a matter of fact, the yard was fog filled, 
 and at the far end only one dim light in the night 
 stable was burning. Vardy, however, went forward 
 to explore, and he soon returned, able to guarantee 
 that all was quiet. He then led the way across the 
 yard, and all three moved on tiptoe, while Herr Habe- 
 nichts promised Mrs. Bleeks to protect her against her 
 unbrotherly brother. They arrived safely at the door 
 of one of the old coach-houses, which Vardy rolled 
 back silently on its castors. Herr Habenichts awaited 
 the order to advance, and when it came he escorted 
 Mrs. Bleeks towards a roomy loose box, which con- 
 tained ample bedding for the most fastidious horse. 
 Vardy had laid down the table, and the doll basket, 
 but he still held the lantern. A rattle of halter chains
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 291 
 
 and a snorting of cab-horses greeted the intruders 
 as Mrs. Bleeks bade Herr Habenichts and Vardy 
 " Good night," and moved into the loose box. Vardy 
 was giggling. 
 
 " Vould you like a hot-water bottle ? " asked Herr 
 Habenichts, solemnly; but Mrs. Bleeks declined, 
 and the door of the loose box was shut upon her. 
 
 " I never thought I 'd go to bed like a cab-'oss," 
 she was heard to say before she sank thankfully in 
 the straw, and then into a profound slumber. 
 
 When Herr Habenichts was crossing the yard again, 
 he asked Vardy if Dorothy was at home. Larkin's 
 house was dark except for the lighted threshold, and 
 Vardy said that Dorothy had been driven that same 
 evening to Liverpool Street Station. 
 
 " Vat ! " exclaimed Herr Habenichts. 
 
 " I says she was driv by Swef to Liverpool Street," 
 repeated Vardy. " She 's gone to Mr. Larkin's farm." 
 
 "Vat! vat do you say ?" 
 
 " I says wot I says. Wot 's hup wiv yer ? " de- 
 manded Vardy, as he watched Herr Habenichts 
 hurrying out by the gate. 
 
 He walked towards Wix's Residential Hotel as fast 
 as the fog allowed him. He was not certain whether 
 he should at once communicate with Monty Marduke, 
 or first ask the advice of Mr. Botolph. But his hesi- 
 tation ceased when he met Wurm, the waiter, on the 
 steps. In voluble German, Wurm told him to hurry
 
 292 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 in, because a woman or a girl had been impatiently 
 telephoning at intervals during the last three-quarters 
 of an hour. The telephone bell, in fact, rang again. 
 
 " Mein Gott, a vemale ? " asked Herr Habenichts, 
 out of breath, and putting his ear to the instrument. 
 
 " Speak slow ! " he implored. " Are you dere ? 
 Vat? I not onderstand. Hold de line! Dorrie? 
 You are Dorrie ? Vat is wrong ? You are trembling. 
 You veep ? Mein Gott, I haf just been at de Larkin 
 yard, and was told you go to Essex. Someone run 
 avay vith you ? Vat ? " 
 
 Dorothy was explaining where she was, and why 
 she was there, and then she began to tell, all palpitat- 
 ingly, of her terror of Swening, her fear of Larkin, 
 for fear of Marduke, her determination to escape like 
 a hunted thing, her desire of Herr Habenichts' pro- 
 tection, her belief in his goodness, and her hope that 
 he would come instantly to her aid. 
 
 " Ach so," replied Herr Habenichts, having ordered 
 Wurm out of the room. " Poor girl, I hear you veep- 
 ing ; de telephone tells you veep. Kein, do not veep. 
 I kom. Dis minute I start, and kom as qvick as de 
 fog allows. You say you are vrightened for Marduke, 
 too?" 
 
 " Yes," whispered Dorrie down the wire. " I 
 don't know what to do, Herr Habenichts. I am 
 frightened for them all. I almost jumped into the
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 293 
 
 " Say again where you are," said Herr Habenichts ; 
 and she described the exact spot in Blackfriars. 
 
 " Vait den ! " he cried. " I kom qvick. Good-bye. 
 Ah, you veep still, de leetle tancer, meine kleino 
 Tanzerin, I kom, I kom." 
 
 He told Wunn to whistle for a taxicab, and then 
 he ran upstairs, looked into Swefling's room, which 
 was next his own, and found it empty. With delib- 
 eration, mixed with hurry, he dressed himself in the 
 evening suit which his recent prosperity had enabled 
 him to purchase, and which he had worn on the gala 
 night at Jellini's. And he took from a morocco 
 leather case the one precious thing from which, 
 through all his misfortunes, he had refused to part. 
 It was a cross set in brilliants, which he had received 
 for a brave act in Herzegovina, when he was a lieu- 
 tenant of hussars in the Austrian Army. He fixed 
 it in his evening coat, put on his overcoat, and blessed 
 Providence that he had also, in a moment of folly and 
 re-awakened vanity, bought a crush hat. Then he 
 descended the stair, and knew that Wurm was looking 
 with astonishment on his magnificence. 
 
 " Ja, Wurm," he said, " I vill be late. Give me 
 de key. Do not vait up, poor boy, you are tired." 
 
 Wurm, who adored him, saw him into the taxicab. 
 The fog seemed to be less dense. 
 
 " Go qvick," ordered Herr Habenichts " at least 
 as qvick as the fog allows. I vill pay you veil."
 
 294 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 Then he took his seat in a very majestic fashion, 
 and kept staring into the fog. 
 
 " Wen all my debt is paid," he said to himself, 
 while the taxicab went somewhat recklessly ahead, 
 "I haf twenty-seven pounds in dis world. Ach ja! 
 but de future is de great pank vor us all. De past 
 should be de savings pank. But I have saved 
 noting ! " 
 
 It seemed that an hour had passed before the taxi- 
 cab, after numerous twistings and stoppings, slowed 
 down before a dim doorway in Blackfriars. On the 
 threshold stood a timorous girl peering into the dark, 
 fantastic street, and then she came running across the 
 pavement. Herr Habenichts was soon patting her on 
 the back, and telling her " not to veep " because she 
 was safe. In sudden terror at the thought of his im- 
 minent poverty he had dismissed the taxicab after 
 having paid a liberal fare. But now he regretted that 
 he had dismissed it. He led Dorothy back to the 
 doorway. 
 
 " I haf a plan, vondervoll," he said, and stood deep 
 in thought 
 
 When she asked him where he was going to take 
 her, he smiled and said 
 
 " Kom vith me. We vill valk till we vind anoder 
 cab. De fog lifts. I see a star." 
 
 But he stopped under the light of a great electric 
 street lamp. He looked into her girlish frightened
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 295 
 
 face, saw the violet eyes fill with tears again, and 
 watched the twitching of the fine mouth, and the 
 expression of fear contracting all the features. 
 
 " Mein Gott ! " he exclaimed, " you are taller dan 
 I am. I alvays saw de vine blood in you. Never 
 vear any more. All koms right. Ach ja ! de heart of 
 de leetle tancer beat so fast! But never vear any 
 more. Vat a bright dawn breaks vor you ! Der Auf- 
 gang der Sonne der Liebe! Now tell me vat you 
 mean. You say you are avraid of Marduke. Vat 
 does it mean ? You must tell me before I go one step 
 more." 
 
 Dorothy turned her head from the light, and began 
 to weep bitterly. 
 
 " Oh, nein, nein," said Herr Habenichts, patting 
 her little hand, " you are wrong. He search vor you. 
 He love you. He marry you. Such a Liebe. I haf 
 never seen de like. Young Marduke search and search 
 vor you. Avraid of him ? Ja, sometimes great love 
 and great fear are very close togeder. And Love and 
 Death are very close togeder. All life and all love is 
 very great mystery. But you, my leetle tancer, are 
 going to be vat Beethoven called die unsterbliche Oe- 
 liebte, de immortal loved one ! " 
 
 Bewildered and strangely agitated, Dorothy looked 
 into his grey kind eyes, and he smiled reassuringly. 
 He was a man in whom all passion had become 
 compassion.
 
 296 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " Kom," he said, " it is a fairy's tale. Der is more. 
 Be bold and trust me." 
 
 The lights were burning brighter in the Strand, 
 and it was ten minutes past eleven o'clock when Herr 
 Habenichts hailed another taxicab, and ordered the 
 chauffeur to drive to the residence of Arabella, 
 Duchess of Berkshire, in Grosvenor Square. For it 
 will be remembered that in Mrs. Wix's parlour he had 
 questioned Monty Marduke as to where the dowager 
 lived. When Dorothy asked him where they were 
 going, he said, " Vait. It is difficult," and then he fell 
 into a sort of reverie out of which she dared not 
 attempt to rouse him.
 
 CHAPTER NINETEENTH 
 
 THE dowager was giving a dance, small and early, 
 which was preceded by a dinner at which two am- 
 bassadors were expected to set the table in a titter by 
 displays of ambassadorial wit. Arabella abhorred a 
 babel of unconnected talk, and therefore her dinner 
 guests were few. She sought to revive the methods 
 of the French salon, where good talkers made con- 
 tributions to a single theme. Therefore she used her 
 seven or nine or eleven guests as shuttles and spindles 
 for weaving from one side to the other the glittering 
 fabric of conversation. Mere gossip, mere personal 
 details were never encouraged unless some piquant 
 view of character and circumstance could be got out 
 of them. She loved to surround herself by a few 
 illuminati and her intimate wits of both sexes. Mon- 
 sieur Dumaresq, for instance, found an admirable 
 foil in Lady Lormington, and the beautiful Diana 
 Melmore shed soft glances and subtle words on men 
 like Sir Philip Delancey and Count Stein. In defi- 
 ance of tepid conventions, Arabella used to initiate 
 unconventional talk. She was even not afraid of the 
 
 clash of temperaments and the heat generated by dis- 
 
 297
 
 298 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 cussions which threatened, but only threatened, now 
 and again to pass beyond the limits of the urbane. 
 
 " There are two things I dislike," said Monsieur 
 Dumaresq, " the suburban and the suburbane." 
 
 Nevertheless, he was once guilty of too great a rise 
 of mental temperature in a prolonged duel with a 
 brilliant opponent whom at last he tossed with a snarl. 
 
 The dowager gently chided him in the privacy of 
 her boudoir, and said that he was an intellectual 
 picador. "But," she added, with a reproving shake 
 of her grey curls, " it looked more like a bullfight, 
 and, mon cher, conversation is not a bullfight." 
 
 But her guests generally came away happy with the 
 feeling that their reputations had been enhanced, and 
 with the hope that some of their mots might become 
 current coin of the realm of wit, and that the author's 
 name would be stamped upon it. Thus it was at the 
 Berkshire dinners that most of Monsieur Dumaresq's 
 best things were first heard. It was he who divided 
 mankind into latitudinarians and platitudinarians, 
 and he claimed priority for the remark that philoso- 
 phers are either utilitarians or futilitarians. He took 
 himself seriously as a humorist. Someone having 
 said that a certain statesman, who was rather coarse 
 than cultured, was " original," " Yes," retorted Mon- 
 sieur Dumaresq, " so original that he is aboriginal." 
 
 Lady Lormington and the Marquis de la Boverie, 
 Lady Desney and Count Stein were once more in-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 299 
 
 dulging in well-bred laughter over this witticism, and 
 Lady Lormington reminded the dowager of it. Mon- 
 sieur Dumaresq had been honoured as usual by a seat 
 on his hostess's left. 
 
 " Ah," said Arabella, " so original as to be aborig- 
 inal. It is worthy of La Rochefoucauld. I hope that 
 you did not mean me ? " 
 
 Monsieur Dumaresq bowed his negative to the 
 imperious curls which made some people think that 
 their owner was the most bewitching old woman in 
 London. She rather enjoyed her reputation for orig- 
 inality. She could risk much with impunity. Her 
 vivacity and sexagenarian energy were such that her 
 friends forgot to look for those wrinkles which, as 
 Monsieur Dumaresq said, are the italics of Time. 
 She had carried on the Berkshire and the Swaffham 
 traditions, and had been able to outshine the other 
 representatives of both families who played no role on 
 the more intellectual levels of London society. 
 
 " A title, without anything interesting behind it, 
 my dear Lady Lormington," she said, " is only a 
 title." 
 
 Therefore any man of learning or of wit, if also 
 of breeding, hereditary or acquired, was welcomed at 
 her house, because new friendships interested, almost 
 excited her. Monsieur Dumaresq had the privilege, 
 of which he frequently availed himself, of introduc- 
 ing his friends. For Arabella, like an astronomer,
 
 300 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 gazed at the starry heavens of society, in the hope of 
 discovering a new planet for her galaxy. 
 
 " I will not be bored" she said. " When I meet 
 two bores, I make them entertain each other." 
 
 " I notice," said Monsieur Dumaresq, " that you 
 like to change your sphere and your atmosphere." 
 
 " He is an epigrammatist in five languages," 
 said the dowager, turning to the Marquis de la 
 Boverie. 
 
 " Yes," replied the Marquis, "Monsieur Du- 
 maresq's mind is a great argosy of ideas." 
 
 " Very respectable persons," observed Monsieur 
 Dumaresq, " are all ballast and no cargo, and that, 
 too, is the explanation of dull books." 
 
 He then began to speak of the " litter of modern 
 literature," said that the soi-disant realism is " the 
 fullest and also the foulest account of life," and that 
 much of its composition might be called decomposi- 
 tion. " Ah ! " he ended, " we are waiting for the 
 actinic rays of genius." 
 
 While the listeners were spellbound, Monsieur 
 Dumaresq removed his eyeglass, and his shaven face 
 was seen to be lean and pale as if with the fever of 
 thought. It was this moment which Diana Melmore 
 chose for making a most unfortunate faux pas. She 
 asked the hostess if Monty Marduke was in town, 
 and it is said that immediately a faint blush became 
 visible on her face. It had been long suspected that
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 301 
 
 she was one of the numerous girls in despair about 
 Monty. "Waiting women," the dowager called them. 
 
 " Monty Marduke ? I do not know," replied the 
 dowager, and turned again to the Marquis de la 
 Boverie. 
 
 Lord Percy Boscoigne's recent suicide was men- 
 tioned, and Monsieur Dumaresq was glad because he 
 had a phrase on suicide. 
 
 " Some of us," he said, as if the thought had just 
 struck him, " commit suicide by living on." 
 
 " Poor Percy," said the Marquis de la Boverie, 
 " was badly brought up. He dressed shockingly. It 
 was astonishing, but he never seemed to see that a 
 polished boot is as important as a polished wit." 
 
 Like Whistler and Disraeli, and all cunning and 
 expert professional conversationalists, Monsieur Du- 
 maresq possessed the skill of diverting any conversa- 
 tion to the lines which he desired, and he became im- 
 patient with M. de la Boverie. On that evening he 
 particularly desired that the word "asparagus" should 
 be mentioned, and also that someone should say some- 
 thing about the supposed decline of Great Britain 
 and the weakness of her Army. For he had a mot 
 both on asparagus and on Great Britain. He glanced 
 at the menu, and to his double satisfaction, gastric as 
 well as mental, he discovered that asparagus was to 
 be served. And so, when everyone was eating it, he 
 turned to the dowager, and said
 
 302 THE OLD DA^CE MASTER 
 
 "It is with men as with asparagus. The most 
 important thing is the head." 
 
 A nattering titter followed the remark, and Mon- 
 sieur Dumaresq was very happy, but he was already 
 longing to hear the German peril mentioned. And lo, 
 at last it came from Sir Philip Delancey and Count 
 Stein. 
 
 " Well," said Monsieur Dumaresq, seizing the 
 occasion of an advantageous pause, " we who are the 
 friends of England hope that Britannia's sword is 
 not made of Britannia metal." 
 
 The dowager, amid a chorus of soft laughter, 
 tapped him approvingly with her closed fan, and 
 said 
 
 " C'est superbe." 
 
 It was admitted by everyone that Monsieur Du- 
 maresq had surpassed his own record, and as a com- 
 pliment to him Count Stein remarked that he would 
 rather meet a millionaire in ideas than a millionaire. 
 But when the scene changed to the drawing-room and 
 the dancing, Monsieur Dumaresq had scarcely as 
 favourable an opportunity for display. He danced 
 no more. He contented himself with gazing critically 
 through his highly polished eyeglass at the handsome 
 younger generation, or in chatting with the few elder 
 guests, who, like himself, had grown stiff with the 
 years. 
 
 " Mon Dieu," he whispered to Lady Lormington,
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 303 
 
 " all these young people are lovers. Love is carniv- 
 orous. In my book of maxims, I wrote down a phrase 
 the other day. It is this * Passion is the unexpur- 
 gated edition of love, and expurgated editions are 
 not bought.' " 
 
 Lady Lormington congratulated him, and said that 
 it was good to hold frozen hands before the warm fire 
 of youth. 
 
 Now it was in this glowing and flippant scene 
 that Herr Habenichts made his apparition at half- 
 past eleven o'clock. Mr. Botolph used to say that 
 Herr Habenichts was a man of common sense and 
 uncommon taste, and that he could be trusted to do the 
 right thing in whatever situation he found himself. 
 He was perfectly aware of the audacity of the plan 
 whereby he hoped to bring the little orphan under 
 the protection of a very high dame. But he had con- 
 fidence in his own tact and tactics. He had dressed 
 himself carefully because he expected that in so great 
 a house a reception probably took place almost every 
 evening. That, too, was the reason why, in obedience 
 to the one little pardonable vanity which still lurked 
 in him, he had donned his precious order in brilliants 
 with the clasp. He thought, in his foreign way, that 
 it would be a kind of credential, and although he 
 laughed quietly at the world's showmen and their 
 shows, he knew how to make use on occasion of the 
 irnpressionableness of mankind. Moreover, in any
 
 304: THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 case his act was going to be wholly disinterested, and 
 he was that rare man who has a positive delight in 
 the happiness of other people. In his early youth in 
 Vienna he had moved in the same society which 
 claimed property in Monsieur Dumaresq, and the 
 strange disasters of later life had not effaced his good 
 breeding and his sense of the fitness of things. There 
 was something in his look of assurance and ease 
 which caused all doors to be opened to him, and there- 
 fore the dowager's footman saw nothing amiss when 
 he ascended the baize-covered steps, and entered the 
 house. But it was with a shock of surprise that they 
 looked at the companion on his arm, and remarked 
 her blue serge dress, fur boa, and beaver hat. In a 
 moment Herr Habenichts knew that a dance reception 
 was being held, and it was with delight that he heard 
 dance music being played by a superb band in the 
 upper corridor. The sumptuous house was aglow with 
 lights and liveried footmen, and the air was deli- 
 cately and subtly laden with the aroma of many a 
 perfumed skirt that had passed in. A tall, distin- 
 guished youth was accompanying up the great stair- 
 way a lovely creature in a flowing dress of yellow 
 brocade. Dorothy stood stupefied. But Herr Habe- 
 nichts, undaunted, addressed a servant, and told him 
 to conduct the forlorn little lady to a room, which he 
 guessed was unused, at the far end of the hall. In 
 fact, it was the breakfast-room the door of which was
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 305 
 
 half open. The footman obeyed, and when other ser- 
 vants had relieved Herr Habenichts of his hat and 
 overcoat he ascended the stair, and when he arrived 
 on the upper landing he gave his name. Being 
 ashamed of his English, which he had never been 
 able to make perfect, he decided to speak French, of 
 which he was a master, so that we shall translate all 
 that he said throughout that amazing evening. 
 
 In a dress of black velvet and old point lace the 
 dowager was receiving her guests at the east door of 
 the first drawing-room. A graceful diamond tiara 
 surmounted the famous grey curls, and seemed to 
 lend them even more than their usual animation. 
 Herr Habenichts stopped for a moment to adjust his 
 order in brilliants, and then he heard the strains of 
 the Italian waltz Tesoro Mio and through a door he 
 caught a glimpse of the dance. By this time he had 
 assumed an air of considerable majesty, and some 
 guests, sitting among the flowers in the vestibule, 
 asked each other who the distinguished man might be. 
 He approached the dowager, who recognised neither 
 his face nor his name. And it was lucky that Mon- 
 sieur Dumaresq was standing beside her, with eyeglass 
 duly mounted under his right eyebrow. 
 
 " Ah, c'est vous, Habenichts ! " exclaimed Monsieur 
 Dumaresq, as Arabella shook hands with the stranger, 
 who, she supposed, was another of the friends whom 
 Monsieur Dumaresq was privileged to bring.
 
 306 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 Herr Habenichts acquitted himself admirably, 
 and after he had, in Austrian fashion, kissed the 
 dowager's hand, and had moved forwards to make 
 room for new arrivals, he was seized upon by Mon- 
 sieur Dumaresq, who asked him how many centuries 
 had passed since they had been together in Vienna. 
 Much surprised, and more delighted, Herr Habe- 
 nichts made skilful use of the lucky encounter, 
 and retained his ease and happy humour as Mon- 
 sieur Dumaresq took him among the Lormington 
 group. 
 
 " Ah, I remember this," said Monsieur Dumaresq, 
 fingering the military cross. " You know, Lady Lor- 
 mington, he got it for a brave something or other 
 he did during the war in Herzegovina. The papers 
 were full of him for weeks. He is an edition de luxe 
 of humanity. Have n't you read his ' History of 
 Dancing ' ? It will be known in every capital of 
 Europe." 
 
 " Mais non, Dumaresq ! " said Herr Habenichts. 
 
 " Mais oui, cher Habenichts," replied Monsieur 
 Dumaresq. " The most learned thing ever written. 
 Ah, of course, Habenichts, that 's why you have 
 come here. That pretty picture should please you." 
 
 Monsieur Dumaresq pointed to the dancers, and 
 then moved back to his position near the dowager, 
 to whom he said 
 
 " Habenichts is an edition de luxe of humanity."
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 307 
 
 " They are rare," said the dowager ; " I am de- 
 lighted to have him." 
 
 Herr Habenichts had dropped into fairyland, for 
 nothing made him happier than a dancing scene. 
 He seemed to himself to be transported to the Court 
 Ball of Vienna, where, as a hussar in glittering uni- 
 form, he had danced his youth away. And this 
 light and laughter and movement around him 
 brought back the memory of his own humiliation, of 
 patrimony lost for ever, of the dark scowl of fate 
 and fortune which had followed him till now, and 
 it momentarily saddened him. But he astonished 
 Lady Lormington and Lady Desney and Sir Philip 
 Delancey by his expert criticism of the dancers. 
 During three-quarters of an hour he engaged in 
 pleasant talk and persiflage in French, and was so 
 delighted with the dancing and the music that Doro- 
 thy was in danger of being forgotten. For he was 
 expounding his theory of rhythmic movement to 
 Lady Lormington, who at a convenient moment 
 whispered to the dowager as she passed 
 
 " Who is this most interesting old grand seigneur ! " 
 
 " Monsieur Dumaresq," replied the dowager, " saya 
 that he is an edition de luxe of humanity." 
 
 " I wonder if that is Monsieur Dumaresq's own 
 phrase ? " said Lady Lormington. 
 
 " In any case it appears to be true," said the 
 dowager, smiling back pleasantly to Herr Habe-
 
 308 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 nichts, and then moving on to speak to Count 
 Stein. 
 
 Meanwhile, however, there was creeping over the 
 intruder an uncomfortable feeling, and he began to 
 be amazed at his own audacity. Every moment he 
 expected to see Dorothy in serge dress, fur boa, and 
 beaver hat present herself among the dancers. He 
 was glad that the dowager had as yet said little to 
 him, and that Monsieur Dumaresq was apparently 
 ignorant of the strange experiences of his friend 
 since last they had met in Vienna. And Herr Habe- 
 nichts was afraid that if it became suddenly re- 
 vealed to that gay company that he was the pro- 
 prietor of The Original Jellini Academy of Dancing, 
 he would be riddled with ridicule, and turned out 
 as an impostor. The only plan was to seek an in- 
 terview with the Duchess Dowager. But she looked 
 so magnificent, and such a haughty glance was burn- 
 ing in her eyes, that he began to shrink from the 
 encounter. He guessed her scorn when she had 
 heard of his mission and had discovered who he was. 
 Besides, it would in any case be a breach of etiquette 
 for a guest who had been introduced only on that 
 evening to be the last to leave the house. Luckily, 
 dancing was to stop at twelve, because Arabella was 
 no longer able or willing to sustain the fatigue of 
 late hours. Some of the dancers were already on 
 their way to join other hostesses. The rooms were
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 309 
 
 emptying. Monsieur Dumaresq had gone, and on 
 the staircase there was a subdued hubbub of depart- 
 ing guests whose carriages and motor cars had not 
 yet been called. The music had ceased, and it was 
 in a condition of increasing anxiety that Herr Habe- 
 nichts found himself solitary in the west drawing- 
 room. Arabella was standing at the east door, chat- 
 ting with some of the lingerers, but at length she 
 said good-night to the last of them. Heir Habe- 
 nichts would have liked to run down to inquire about 
 the hapless girl. Perhaps she had fled ? He entered 
 the east drawing-room, and saw Arabella, tall and 
 stately, with the jewelled train of her dress flowing 
 behind her, advancing to meet him. 
 
 " Ah, Duchesse," said Herr Habenichte, " I could 
 not help looking at those pictures. This is a Greuze ? 
 Ah, this charming Meissonierl And the Ingres, 
 too!" 
 
 " Yes," she said. " I am sorry I have seen so little 
 of you. There were too many people here. I am 
 sorry, too, that Monsieur Dumaresq has gone." 
 
 Arabella was eager to examine an edition de luxe 
 of humanity, and she invited Herr Habenichts to 
 supper. With her sexagenarian laugh she said that 
 music and the play and watching dancing made her 
 hungry. 
 
 " Ah, there is Mr. Loxley not yet gone ! " she 
 exclaimed in French, as a young man with dreamy
 
 310 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 eyes came into the room. " Mr. Loxley, Herr Habe- 
 nichts and I are going to have supper. Now, won't 
 you give me the pleasure " 
 
 Mr. Loxley, who was somewhat shy, and whose 
 French was rickety, asked to be forgiven, said good 
 night, and disappeared. Herr Habenichts felt his 
 equanimity returning, and offered his arm to his 
 hostess as they descended to the supper-room. They 
 were soon sitting at a little table on which candles 
 with pink shades were burning. It was this sort of 
 sudden improvisation of friendships which gave Ara- 
 bella the name of the unconventional duchess. Like 
 Madame du Deffand, she was eager to seize upon 
 anyone who could afford her a new intellectual thrill, 
 and for the moment Herr Habenichts became her 
 Horace Walpole. The butler was serving Chateau 
 Lafite, vintage 1858, and his subordinates moved 
 noiselessly at their tasks. The dowager was talking 
 about Monsieur Dumaresq. 
 
 " He is a cynic," she said. 
 
 " Cynicism," said Herr Habenichts, in idiomatic 
 French, " is frozen truth. But, Duchess, the great 
 books have the temperature of this wine, I mean its 
 inner, latent temperature. Ha, ha, on dit, good wine 
 has a body, but it has also, like a good book, a 
 soul." 
 
 He was so fond of abandoning himself to the im- 
 pressions of the moment, so eager to become absorbed
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 311 
 
 in whatever the present brought him, that Dorothy- 
 was again in danger of being forgotten. Herr Habe- 
 nichts began to feel as if he could talk till cock-crow. 
 He spoke about the vineyards of France with ap- 
 parently profound knowledge, and then of the life 
 of the vine, the wonderful plant which accepts even 
 the poorest soil which common weeds disdain. The 
 dowager was enthralled as he described the origin 
 and spread of the vine myth and the vine worship 
 out of Asia. From the vintage of France he passed 
 to the more wonderful vintage of her genius as 
 expressed in her literature, and all at once he found 
 himself discussing Villon and Verlaine, whom he 
 called the two great poets of poverty. 
 
 " And Richepin," added the dowager. 
 
 " Yes, he is great, and also the German Rilke," 
 said Herr Habenichts. " These men have seen that 
 poverty has a kind of grandeur, Duchess. And you, 
 too, know it. I have seen you mentioned in the 
 newspapers as the Democratic Duchess." 
 
 Now, if there was one thing of which she was 
 proud, it was the absurd title of Democratic Duchess, 
 the origin of which was as follows: 
 
 During a march of the unemployed through the 
 streets of London, a halt was made before the door 
 of the house in which Herr Habenichts was actually 
 sitting. When the Duchess looked down from the 
 window of her boudoir, she saw a crowd of ragged
 
 312 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 and angry men with menacing banners. Nothing 
 daunted, she stepped on the balcony, and made a 
 little speech in which she expressed her sympathy 
 for them, and especially for their wives and chil- 
 dren. Then she ordered the collecting-box to be sent 
 up to her, and with her own hand she dropped into 
 it a cheque for four hundred pounds. When the 
 fact became known, the air was rent by loud cheers 
 and cries for " Good ole Arabella ! Well done, ole 
 gal ! " And henceforward she was called the Demo- 
 cratic Duchess. Herr Habenichts rather suspected 
 that the veneer and varnish of democracy were very 
 thin. Nevertheless, he reminded her of the inci- 
 dent, and she was pleased. In her strange, vivid 
 old eyes he seemed to see a latent kindness, as well 
 as the gleam of the vanity and of the wisdom of 
 this world. 
 
 " Well, I am an old woman," she said, " and I 
 have seen behind the fagade. I have never been 
 quite content with remaining in my own set. Oh, 
 it is like sitting still in your own parish all your 
 life. Not long ago I said a wrong and untrue thing 
 to a young fellow called Marduke " (Herr Habe- 
 nichts made a sudden movement) " about having no 
 friends among the rabble. It is nonsense. I love 
 the poor and the outcast. Ah, if I were a states- 
 man, I would mobilise the mob, and teach it citizen- 
 ship, Herr Habenichts. I once had a long conver-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 313 
 
 sation with Tolstoi. It was at Yasnaya Polyana, 
 and he was digging a trench in a field to carry- 
 away the water. He leaned on his spade as he 
 spoke to me. Oh, it was wonderful! He made 
 me angry with the stupid glitter of the rich. And 
 yet, and yet, I cant give up art and music and 
 books and good talk, Herr Habenichts. And so will 
 you dine here next Thursday? I expect Monsieur 
 Dumaresq and some interesting people." 
 
 " I vorget ! " exclaimed Herr Habenichts, sud- 
 denly, dropping into English, as if more suitable 
 to express his embarrassment. " I must tell it now. 
 You say you love de poor? I am poor. I am only 
 a vieux maitre de danse ! " 
 
 " You are a dancing master ? " said the dowager, 
 incredulously and derisively. 
 
 " Yes," he replied ; and then turned to the pom- 
 pous old butler, " Bring in de lady. Oh, vat haf I 
 been tinking about all dis time ! " 
 
 The hostess betrayed the slightest symptom of 
 annoyance, because she had a sudden suspicion that 
 her strange guest had drunk too much of the old 
 subtle wine of France, She bent forward in an 
 attitude which indicated that she had not under- 
 stood him, and she began to fumble for her lorgnette. 
 Herr Habenichts seemed perplexed, and his ease 
 had forsaken him again. And presently Dorothy 
 was standing in the room, pale and forlorn, and
 
 314 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 looking like a tattered thing in the midst of all this 
 splendour, while the dowager fixed upon her an 
 astonished stare. 
 
 " Ach ja, Duchesse," said Herr Habenichts, rising 
 and patting Dorothy on the shoulder, " dis is de poor 
 leetle girl. Most extraordinary story. You vill be 
 kind to her, Duchesse ? You love de poor and de 
 outcast ? " 
 
 " What is it ? What does it mean ? " asked Ara- 
 bella. "Who is this?" 
 
 " Dis," explained Herr Habenichts, with his old 
 smile again, " is de leetle tancer at Jellini's, and 
 young Mr. Marduke fall in love vith her." 
 
 The truth had flashed upon Arabella, and she rose 
 agitated and angry, almost fainting with rage, and 
 believing that Monty Marduke had played the trick 
 upon her. To have supped with a dancing master! 
 To have been made ridiculous by a dancing master! 
 To have had to face this odious anticlimax to a 
 brilliant evening! At first her presence of mind 
 forsook her, and she stood ignorant how to act, until 
 an uncontrollable impulse made her order the ser- 
 vants to bring a detective. But no sooner was the 
 order given than she recalled it, and then she com- 
 manded the servants to leave the room. Herr 
 Habenichts was speaking again, and attempting to 
 apologise for his intrusion. In fluent French and 
 laboured English he justified his action.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 315 
 
 " I haf been vaiting de opportunity all night," he 
 said. " Ach ja, Democratic Duchesse, vill you not 
 listen? Vat is it to me? I gain noting. But dis 
 leetle girl gain much. It is de Swaffham blood 
 calling to you, de leetle castavay, de vriend of de 
 Monty, de Earl's love child ! " 
 
 He then informed her that Monty Marduke had 
 nothing whatever to do with their presence in her 
 house that night, and he told the story of Dorothy's 
 flight, and his own discovery of her and his belief 
 that a Democratic Duchess would take under her 
 protection an orphan who, after all, was something 
 of a kinswoman. 
 
 " De Duchesse is your aunt," he said to Dorothy, 
 who stood as if in a troubled dream, wondering 
 whether Herr Habenichts had suddenly gone mad. 
 
 It was the first time that Arabella, Duchess of 
 [Berkshire, had found herself at bay. Her dominant 
 feeling was resentment, and as she gave way to it, 
 she ordered Herr Habenichts to leave the house. But 
 he shook his head. 
 
 " No, Duchesse," he said, in a quiet persuasive 
 way, "not until you promise to protect her. Oder- 
 wise I must take her avay. Vat could I do but 
 bring her here ? " 
 
 The discovery that she had been at supper tete-d- 
 ieie with a dancing master was not the only irritating 
 fact in the situation. To endure the presence of this
 
 31G THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 extraordinary stranger while he told her how she 
 should act, and to perceive his pity for the hollow- 
 ness of her pretended patronage of the poor and 
 outcast, made her nerves rage and ache. She had 
 waved the servants from the room in order to avoid 
 a scene, and still Herr Habenichts lingered while 
 the haughty woman cast glance after sharp glance 
 at the terrified child. Dorothy's height and appear- 
 ance, the Swaffham pride lurking undeveloped in all 
 her features, her silence, her obvious innocence, her 
 magnificent eyes and her helplessness were neverthe- 
 less making a singular impression. The truth was 
 that her resemblance to her father, the Earl of 
 Swaffham, the dowager's favourite nephew, had 
 stunned the dowager, who was eager to get rid of 
 Herr Habenichts in order to compare the Earl's 
 portrait with the face of his child. Her decision 
 was made, but she was still too proud to announce 
 it. After a few moments of studied pause and hesi- 
 tation, and after another keen inspection of the girl 
 of the bright dark pedigree who was standing be- 
 wildered before her, she again requested Herr Habe- 
 nichts to leave the house. Dorothy sprang forward 
 and seized his hand, indicating that she meant to 
 go with him. It was then that the dowager was 
 heard to mutter " Poor Gascoigne ! " which was one 
 of the Earl's names. She had promised him before 
 he had left England that she would be kind to the
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 317 
 
 child of his wild love. But she had ignored Dome's 
 existence. 
 
 " Ach ja ! " said Heir Habenichts, coming to her 
 aid. " I see you vish to change. De leetle child 
 has no claim upon you. Dat is why you vill help 
 her. Vill you ? " 
 
 " She shall remain here," replied the dowager, still 
 with an aspect of sternness which she compelled her- 
 self to maintain. 
 
 " I accept de word of a Duchesse," said Heir 
 Habenichts, bowing himself out, and restraining 
 Dorothy from following. " Nein, good-bye, Dorrie. 
 All koms right I haf seen de end and de end is 
 fair."
 
 CHAPTER TWENTIETH 
 
 MEANWHILE a family council was being held at Port- 
 land Place. That much learning may make a man 
 mad has been frequently proved, but that he should 
 be judged mad because of much generosity is a catas- 
 trophe of rarer occurrence. Nevertheless, this was 
 about to happen to Sir John Marduke, whose strange 
 shame concerning the origin of his great inheritance 
 was exhibited in an earlier chapter. A crisis was 
 at hand, and two famous specialists, Dr. Puddifant 
 and Dr. Paradarakovsky, were puzzling over the case. 
 They pronounced it unique. A man, they said, who 
 had created a great fortune by dishonest means, who 
 had trampled on his fellow men and had risen on 
 their ruin, might conceivably in the midst of his 
 ill-gotten luxury be hunted and haunted by disturb- 
 ing memories. But that a man like Sir John Mar- 
 duke should worry himself to the point of insanity 
 four generations after the event merely at the thought 
 that every penny of his wealth had come to him 
 from the sweat and labour of slaves who had per- 
 ished by hundreds, and perhaps by thousands, at the 
 hands of his ancestors, was one of the most singu- 
 
 318
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 319 
 
 lar facts in the history of hallucination. And his 
 method of expiating this supposed crime of those old 
 Mardukes was itself a crime, because he was thereby 
 robbing his son and successor in the baronetcy and 
 also his daughter of the patrimony which was their 
 due. Jedder and Jedder, the family solicitors, said 
 that it was philanthropy, it was charity, it was 
 morality gone mad. The elder Jedder could not 
 sleep for thinking of it. He saw an estate wasting 
 away before his eyes, and he insisted on immediate 
 interference for the purpose of saving the poor re- 
 mainder and debris which he calculated amounted 
 to four hundred and sixty-eight thousand pounds 
 seven shillings and threepence. . It was with a law- 
 yer's delight and sense of business and justice that 
 this elder Jedder had adjusted his spectacles in order 
 to fix his eyes upon his clerk to whom he dictated 
 that letter addressed to Herr Habenichts, which 
 announced the withdrawal of Sir John Marduke's 
 patronage from The Original Jellini Academy of 
 Dancing, and the calling in of the loan. Herr Habe- 
 nichts had already refunded the loan with interest, 
 although interest was not demanded, and he had 
 received a curt letter of acknowledgment. The elder 
 Jedder hoped that this solitary instance of sternness 
 and grip on the part of the baronet meant the cessa- 
 tion of a mad form of magnanimity. Not so. Only 
 the other day Jedder and Jedder had been ordered
 
 320 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 to despatch (1) a cheque for 50,000 in aid of the 
 abolition of the so-called slavery in the Congo, and 
 (2) a cheque for 10,000 to a London hospital. In 
 order to provide these sums much valuable property, 
 many valuable shares, would require to be realised. 
 And it was before entering upon the transactions 
 necessary for the completion of this business that 
 the elder Jedder wrote a very startling letter to Mr. 
 Monty Marduke, who communicated with the family 
 physician, Dr. Minting, who in turn communicated 
 with Dr. Puddifant and Dr. Paradarakovsky, the 
 distinguished alienists. 
 
 Sir John was examined, and then the elder Jedder 
 proposed a family council. Monty and Minnie 
 agreed. The physicians agreed. Whether it was 
 owing to the baronet's displeasure with his son's con- 
 duct at The Original Jellini Academy of Dancing, or 
 whether it was simply owing to the natural evolution 
 of his mania, his destructive activities directed against 
 the family property were once more in eruption, 
 and threatened to have no end until the property 
 itself came to an end. Even his daughter, who now 
 led a secluded and somewhat embittered life in the 
 great mansion, had ceased to sympathise with these 
 colossal charities, and, although disgusted with her 
 brother, she decided to co-operate with him for the 
 sake of their joint interests. Therefore the family 
 council assembled. Present: Mr. Marduke, Miss
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 321 
 
 Marduke, the elder Jedder, Dr. Puddifant, the emi- 
 nent English brain specialist, Dr. Paradarakovsky, 
 his eminent foreign rival, and Herr Habenichts. 
 
 The presence of Herr Habenichts requires some 
 explanation. Monty Marduke, while perfectly will- 
 ing and even anxious to see some restriction placed 
 upon his father, was opposed for pathetic and filial 
 reasons to any declaration of mental failure. Now, 
 the fact that Sir John had recalled the loan which 
 hacl been granted to the proprietor of The Original 
 Jellini Academy of Dancing was a proof, according 
 to Monty, that his mental capacity was unimpaired. 
 Herr Habenichts was, therefore, invited to bear 
 personal testimony before the two doctors. He re- 
 sponded at once to the call, and declared that it was 
 another sign of the excellent character of his charm- 
 ing young friend. But when the elder Jedder saw 
 Herr Habenichts in the room, he gazed at him through 
 his eyeglass, and was incapable of concealing his 
 astonishment and his contempt for a dancer who 
 philosophised or a philosopher who danced. Having 
 coughed, he proceeded to business, not, however, with- 
 out having expressed regret at the unavoidable ab- 
 sence of Dr. Minting, the family physician who had 
 been suddenly called to an urgent case in the country. 
 Mr. Jedder then made startling revelations regarding 
 the present condition of the Marduke property, and 
 from a schedule he read out a list of the baronet's
 
 322 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 charities he had almost said delinquencies dur- 
 ing the last four years. The total cost to the family 
 of his generous madness or mad generosity had been 
 four hundred and seventy-eight thousand pounds ten 
 shillings and sixpence. If the two donations of 
 50,000 for the Congo slaves and 10,000 for the 
 London hospital were withheld, Mr. Jedder said 
 that the value of the estate would be only four hun- 
 dred and sixty-eight thousand pounds seven shillings 
 and threepence. Sir John had thus parted with 
 more than half of his property. 
 
 " When is it to end ? " asked Mr. Jedder, as he 
 looked at the specialists. 
 
 Dr. Puddifant, a big, authoritative person, had the 
 appearance of a man who, if doubtful about the sanity 
 of other people, was perfectly convinced of his own. 
 He was sixty years of age, with a red face, a sharp, 
 interrogating eye, and a mouth as hard and inex- 
 pressive as if it had been made of double-twisted 
 wire. He secretly sometimes openly despised 
 his learned colleague, Dr. Paradarakovsky, who was 
 steeped in philosophy, and had published a book on 
 the theme whether Nature herself might not go mad. 
 He claimed to have found a vein of insanity running 
 through all her operations, and he proved that some 
 stars are mad, and that madness is exhibited in earth- 
 quakes, in violent storms, and in the fury of other 
 beasts of prey besides man. Dr. Puddifant, who was
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 323 
 
 thoroughly practical, laughed at Dr. Paradarakovsky, 
 and said that the book ought to be held as evidence 
 that its author was insane. That was precisely Dr. 
 Paradarakovsky's opinion of Dr. Puddifant, and 
 when Monty, who liked that sort of joke, whispered 
 the fact to Herr Habenichts, the latter burst out 
 laughing at the moment when the elder Jedder was 
 reading an inventory. Mr. Jedder paused, and looked 
 defiantly in the direction of Herr Habenichts. 
 
 " That was my fault," said Monty, smiling ; and 
 Mr. Jedder was able to proceed. 
 
 After he had amassed damning proof of the baro- 
 net's incapacity for managing his own affairs, Mr. 
 Jedder delivered himself of another cough, and then 
 addressed the doctors again. He knew, of course, 
 that a declaration signed by only one of them and 
 by the family physician would be sufficient; but he 
 agreed with Dr. Minting that it would be satisfactory 
 to have the advice of the two distinguished men. 
 They had quarrelled already, however, over the case, 
 and Mr. Jedder had besought them in the interest 
 of the heirs to come to an agreement. 
 
 " Gentlemen," he said, " it is a very melancholy, 
 a very extraordinary case. But the facts constitute 
 evidence which is overwhelming. For the good of 
 the baronet himself, not to mention the interests of 
 the future baronet and of Miss Marduke, we should 
 make it impossible for Sir John to spend, or, I should
 
 324 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 rather say, to misspend another shilling. Why, sirs, 
 the provisions of the original will are already ren- 
 dered nugatory, because there is not sufficient money 
 to go round. What this gentleman " (pointing to 
 Herr Habenichts) "is able to tell you about Sir 
 John's recall of the loan which was granted to The 
 Original Jellini Academy of Dancing is, no doubt, 
 perfectly true. Sir John, on his own initiative, did 
 recall the loan. But that fact does not alter the 
 case. A large fortune has been squandered and is 
 still being squandered, so that, at this rate of sub- 
 traction, zero will soon be reached. Now, property 
 is sacred. How will the future baronet be able to 
 maintain his due position? I say that property is 
 sacred. .You may suggest that there is method in 
 Sir John's madness. I reply that there is madness 
 in his method, and there are present all the symptoms 
 of a singular hallucination. It is really an alarming 
 form of megalomania." 
 
 " Ach ja ! " said Herr Habenichts, " men are either 
 megalomaniacs or micromaniacs dat is, maniacs in 
 great tings or in small. I prefer de big maniacs. 
 I admire Sir John. He burn red at de thought 
 of de poor slaves long ago making his vortune. He 
 not mad ! " 
 
 " A mere dreamer," whispered Dr. Puddifant to 
 the elder Jedder. 
 
 " Far worse ! A mere dancing master, the pro-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 325 
 
 prietor of Jellini's ! " whispered the elder Jedder in 
 turn, and then coughed again. 
 
 Minnie Marduke appeared to be very sad, and she 
 sat silent. But Monty spoke, and he said that he 
 agreed with Herr Habenichts. He hotly maintained 
 that his father was not mad. The elder Jedder 
 replied by restating the dilemma. If Sir John were 
 not declared incapable of managing his own affairs, 
 then, no power on earth could prevent him from re- 
 ducing his family to beggary. On the other hand, 
 only by such a declaration would it be legally pos- 
 sible to take the estate out of his hands and admin- 
 ister it in his own and his family's interest. At 
 this point a dramatic incident occurred. Sir John 
 Marduke, with flushed face, bright eye and hurried 
 step, entered the room, and he held half a dozen 
 cheques in his hand. His manner was certainly 
 somewhat strange, but he did not seem to be sur- 
 prised to see the elder Jedder or even Herr Habe- 
 nichts. It was on the doctors that he fixed an angry 
 look. 
 
 " These gentlemen here yet ? " he exclaimed. 
 " Ha, ha ! I am not mad, Monty. Now, Mr. Jedder, 
 I am glad to see you. Take these " handing the six 
 cheques. " They are for orphans and poor women." 
 
 " All right, Sir John," said Mr. Jedder, humour- 
 ing him, " I will attend to them," 
 
 There could have been no more convincing demon-
 
 326 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 stration to all present of the need of immediate 
 action. Sir John was lost. He went up to Herr 
 Habenichts, shook hands, and began to apologise for 
 having taken back the money. 
 
 " Nein," said Herr Habenichts. " Vat nonsense ! 
 You did right. I vas and I am fery much obli- 
 gated to you, Sir John Marduke." 
 
 " Jedder," said Sir John, " if my son promises to 
 have nothing more to do with that that beautiful 
 dancing girl lovely creature, I admit but, if 
 he promises, I will give Mr. Habenichts three times 
 the sum as a gift. Monty ? " 
 
 " Father," said Monty, " I would rather not dis- 
 cuss that matter." 
 
 " Ho, ho ! the dancing girl. My son marries the 
 dancing girl ! Did you mention a cab-yard ? " asked 
 Sir John, with a vacant stare. " I thought I heard 
 the name ' Jellini ' ? An Academy of the Dance 
 of Death, gentlemen! My family is, of course, 
 cursed ! We deserve it. That hellish fortune ! The 
 blood of the slaves crying out over the sea against 
 us. This house, the carpet I am walking on, the 
 furniture, my horses, my daughter's jewels, my silver, 
 my motor-car, the clothes we wear, the food we eat, 
 the wines we drink, everything everything came 
 to us because hundreds, thousands of slaves worked 
 under the lash. I can't sleep, doctors. I see the slave 
 ships crossing the horizon while the sun goes down
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 327 
 
 red on Africa. The slave ships, every one of them 
 named l Marduke,' every one of them full of tor- 
 mented men and women and children who are to 
 make the fortune which the Mardukes are going to 
 spend in the twentieth century on dancing girls! 
 The slave ship heaving to, in the red dawn, gentle- 
 men, rigged with curses ! Now I say that our for- 
 tune does not belong to us. Not robbery only, but 
 murder was its foundation ! " 
 
 All became very excited, and in vain Mr. Jedder 
 attempted to quiet Sir John. Herr Habenichts 
 slipped out of the room, because he felt that no 
 stranger should witness the scene. 
 
 " I have a pain here," continued Sir John, touch- 
 ing his head and his heart; and then he took his 
 daughter's hand. 
 
 " Come, father," said Minnie, and led him away. 
 
 There was little left for the elder Jedder to do, 
 but he informed the specialists of one last fact of 
 great significance, and then asked them if they could 
 any longer hesitate. Sir John Marduke had refused 
 to accept a higher title. 
 
 " And it was an earldom, too," added Mr. Jedder. 
 
 " Do you mean to tell us," asked Dr. Puddifant, 
 who was hoping to be at last knighted on a change 
 of Government, " that he refused an earldom ? " 
 
 " He would refuse even a dukedom," replied Mr. 
 Jedder.
 
 328 
 
 " Then he is mad," said Dr. Paradarakovsky and 
 Dr. Puddifant, simultaneously. 
 
 And the declaration was immediately signed by 
 the two eminent men. 
 
 Herr Habenichts had informed one of the servants 
 that he wished to speak with Mr. Marduke, for this 
 was the morning which followed his supper with 
 the Duchess Dowager of Berkshire. He waited, there- 
 fore, in the library, and took down a French book, 
 " Mes Paradis/' and soon became lost in it. What 
 had pleased him in Monty's conduct was the fact 
 that the young man had done nothing to accelerate, 
 had, indeed, done everything to retard his entrance 
 on the control of what was still a great estate. A 
 son of unfilial feeling would rather have been tempted 
 to hasten the displacement of a father who, however 
 praiseworthy the motive, had already played havoc 
 with the family fortune. But now Monty, against 
 his own desire, would be master of a much larger 
 revenue than he had ever enjoyed. These thoughts 
 interfered with Herr Habenichts' reading, and he 
 leaned back on the easy chair on which he was sitting 
 and looked round the large room. The rows and 
 rows of books fascinated him, and he admired the 
 pictures and the admirable taste everywhere displayed. 
 And he thought of the delightful future which lay 
 before Dorothy when she became mistress of such 
 a house.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 329 
 
 " Mistress ? " he whispered to himself. " Ach ja, 
 I don't believe dat he means de word in de oder 
 sense. Supposing? Nein, nein, I judge by de face. 
 De boy is in dreadful earnest He marry her. I 
 judge by de boy's face." 
 
 At this moment Monty entered hurriedly. After 
 Herr Habenichts had expressed sympathy with him, 
 he asked what was to happen to the baronet; and 
 Monty said that his father would continue to live at 
 Portland Place, that special servants and a male nurse 
 would watch over him, and that perhaps in time his 
 mental convalescence might be complete. 
 
 " But, Herr Habenichts," he added, " I wish to 
 assure you that you need have no fear of the future. 
 I have told Jedder that he must return the money to 
 you, and that I will be responsible for that and a 
 good deal more. You are to consider that loan as 
 a gift. I owe so much to you." 
 
 " Vot ! " exclaimed Herr Habenichts. " You owe 
 me noting." 
 
 Then a pleasant duel took place between them, 
 Monty insisting on acceptance, Herr Habenichta 
 gently refusing, until at last he was compelled to 
 declare himself vanquished by the generous youth. 
 Then a very eager expression appeared in Monty's 
 boyish face. Herr Habenichts thought that he had 
 never seemed so handsome, so tall, so manly, so 
 sincere.
 
 330 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 " Ach ja ! " said Herr Habenichts, smiling, " I 
 know wat you wish to speak about. It is about de 
 pretty face. I haf news of pretty face vor you. 
 Vondervoll, vondervoll ! She is safe ! " 
 
 And it was to an excited listener that he narrated 
 the story of Dorothy lost in the fog, of the finding of 
 her, and of her present refuge in the house of Ara- 
 bella, Duchess of Berkshire. At first Monty was 
 stunned by the news, and saw it in the light of a 
 disaster. He began to upbraid Herr Habenichts for 
 having done a foolish thing. 
 
 "Vot? Voolish?" 
 
 " Why, of course," said Monty, with some heat. 
 " Did not I tell you that I have quarrelled with that 
 old woman ? " 
 
 "All in de fog it happened, but now de fog is 
 gone." 
 
 He laid a quieting hand on the flushed youth. 
 
 " I 'm going I 'm going there this moment," 
 cried Monty, who had risen. 
 
 " ISTein," replied Herr Habenichts, almost in a 
 tone of command. " If you go you spoil all. I 
 called her a vicked ancient lady. She is ancient, 
 but not altogeder vicked, only fery proud. But I 
 see behind de pride and high looks de light of kind- 
 ness. Ach, Du lieber Gott! I laugh. De curls! 
 How dey shake ! Dose curls live ! Dey dance ! " 
 
 And then he shook his sides with genuine laughter,
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 331 
 
 and put his hand on Monty's shoulder. He then 
 recounted his experience at the dowager's on that 
 romantic night, his meeting with Monsieur Duma- 
 resq, the amazing supper with the dowager, and, fi- 
 nally, the presentation of Dorothy. Such was the 
 vividness and gaiety of his narrative, that he com- 
 municated his high spirits to Monty, who stood de- 
 vouring every detail. 
 
 " But," repeated Herr Habenichts, laying a warn- 
 ing hand upon him again, " you must not go to 
 Grosvenor Square. You spoil all. I go. I go dis 
 minute to negotiate a treaty of peace between her and 
 you. Ach ja, de conditions vill be hard vor you. 
 Dis morning a footman came to me at Mrs. Vix vith 
 a note demanding my appearance at de house to- 
 day at twelve o'clock. I go. De dowager fery ex- 
 cited about someting, and vish to speak. But you 
 must vait. I telephone de result." 
 
 " The motor is at the door, you will take it," said 
 Monty. 
 
 " Ja, I take it." 
 
 " Herr Habenichts, I can't believe it 's true ! " 
 exclaimed Monty, seizing the old man's hand. 
 
 " Ja, it is true," said Herr Habenichts. " De 
 Duchesse is terrible. I am avraid of her, too! But 
 how I laughed ven I got out of de great house and 
 thought of my impudence de old Tanzmeister sup- 
 ping vith de great Duchesse. It is like Calderon'a
 
 332 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 play, I said, La, Vida es sueno Life is a dream. 
 Ach, dose curls! Dey glitter like silver! How dey 
 shake! But I go, I go. She vait vor me. Some- 
 ting important, I hope good. Call your car." 
 
 Monty hurried him out of the house, and bundled 
 him into the car, and ordered the chauffeur to drive 
 to Grosvenor Square, and to await there Herr Habe- 
 nichts' instructions. 
 
 " You will come straight back here to lunch," said 
 Monty. 
 
 " Ja, I know," replied Herr Habenichts, and the 
 car started. 
 
 " Stop ! " cried Herr Habenichts. " I vorget." 
 
 The car was stopped, and Monty came running 
 down to the pavement again. 
 
 "What is it?" he asked. 
 
 Vill you lend me ' Mes Paradis ' ? " asked Herr 
 Habenichts. " De book I vas reading." 
 
 Monty told a footman to find the book, and when 
 it was brought, he handed it to Herr Habenichts. 
 
 " Keep it," said Monty. 
 
 Herr Habenichts thanked him, lifted his hat, and 
 then began to re-read the book as the car started 
 again in the direction of Grosvenor Square.
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIRST 
 
 VIEONAL could not give her sleep. And at twenty 
 minutes past two o'clock in the morning she sat up, 
 removed from her head a night-cap of fine lace and 
 pink ribbons, and then shook her grey curls. Her 
 insomnia was not caused, however, by any fear lest 
 Dorothy might escape. For Dorothy had been given 
 in charge of the housekeeper, a very vigilant person, 
 and after the excitement of that eventful evening, 
 she was lying in profound slumber. Arabella was 
 awake because the fear of ridicule had robbed her 
 of the power to sleep. That a dance master had at- 
 tended one of her receptions as a guest, had been 
 introduced to her friends Lady Lormington and Count 
 Stein, and had actually taken supper with her, made 
 her somehow think of Les Precieuses Ridicules and 
 of the newspapers. For, if the fact became known, 
 she would be made ridiculous for ever. Twice she 
 had lifted the telephone which stood at her bedside. 
 The cord which carried the wire was of sufficient 
 length to allow her to hold the instrument in her 
 hands while she was in the horizontal posture. There- 
 fore she resumed that posture, and wondered if Mon-
 
 334 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 sieur Dumaresq would be very angry to be rung 
 out of sleep at half-past two in the morning. 
 They had frequently exchanged telephonic good 
 mornings, because Monsieur Dumaresq was pro- 
 vided with a similar apparatus at his pillow, but 
 they had never had a semi-nocturnal, semi-matutinal 
 conversation. 
 
 " Oh," said Arabella, " since it is his fault he 
 should suffer, and, in any case, I must have an ex- 
 planation at once." 
 
 And so she rang him up. 
 
 " Who is it ? " asked a very weak voice. 
 
 " Monsieur Dumaresq, are you there ? " replied 
 the dowager. 
 
 "What? Who is it?" 
 
 " Monsieur Dumaresq, I hope you were not 
 asleep ? " asked the dowager, sitting up in bed. 
 
 " It would always be a pleasure to wake up to 
 hear your voice, Duchess," said Monsieur Dumaresq, 
 as he turned on his side. " But, really, my watch 
 says just one moment why, it is only half -past 
 two!" 
 
 " I am having a dreadful night," replied Arabella ; 
 " / can't sleep, although I took vironal." 
 
 " / could not sleep at first for thinking of your 
 charming dance. But what is wrong ? " 
 
 " Oh, it 's that man you brought the man Habe- 
 nichts."
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 335 
 
 " / did n't bring him," replied Monsieur Duma- 
 resq, sitting up in bed. " But what 'a wrong with 
 him?" 
 
 " You did n't bring him ? " 
 
 " No, I did n't." 
 
 " But you know him ? " 
 
 " Why, of course. But we had n't met since we 
 last saw each other in Vienna." 
 
 " And was he a dancing master then ? " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Duchess, I don't quite 
 understand you. I think there is something wrong 
 with the instrument, or perhaps it 's our sleepy 
 voices." 
 
 " Did he teach dancing ? " asked the dowager, with 
 a touch of fury. 
 
 " Good Heavens, no ! " exclaimed Monsieur Du- 
 maresq. 
 
 " Well, he had supper with me it is perfectly 
 appalling to think of I say he had supper, and he 
 told me that he is the proprietor of The Original 
 Jellini Academy of Dancing in the Tottenham Court 
 Road ! " said the Duchess, almost collapsing, and 
 falling back with the telephone in her hands. " I '11 
 never get over it ! " 
 
 " Oh, ho ! " laughed Dumaresq, regretting that he 
 was already so far awake as to be able to laugh at 
 all, " that must be a joke. He meant that he wrote 
 a ' History of Dancing,' a very fascinating book, you
 
 336 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 know, which is in the libraries of all the Universities 
 of Europe. I will get you a copy." 
 
 " No, thank you. I am not mistaken. The man 
 teaches dancing. I have another reason for knowing 
 that too well," replied Arabella, with a wild shake of 
 her curls. 
 
 " Baron von Habenichts ? " asked Monsieur Du- 
 maresq. 
 
 "Baron?" 
 
 " What, Duchess ? " 
 
 " I say, did you say ' Baron ' ? " 
 
 " Of course. He is Baron von Habenichts. Mon 
 Dieu! What is the meaning of this? How did he 
 get there if you did not invite him ? I did n't bring 
 him. You know, when he was a young officer in 
 Vienna, an Archduchess fell in love with him. There 
 was a tremendous talk. He was wonderfully hand- 
 some, you know. . . . Oh, my pillow ! " 
 
 " What ? " asked the Duchess. 
 
 " My pillow fell out, that 'a all ! " laughed Mon- 
 sieur Dumaresq. " I 've got it again." 
 
 " You know, I don't believe in having pillows that 
 are too soft, do you ? " asked the dowager. " They 
 heat the head and prevent one from sleeping." 
 
 " Ah, that is why you have not slept, Duchess. 
 Do get harder pillows. I sometimes think we are 
 becoming too luxurious," said Monsieur Dumaresq. 
 " Now, take this telephone we are both using "
 
 337 
 
 " Do please say more about your friend," urged 
 the dowager, pulling a shawl from the bed rail, and 
 throwing it over her shoulders. 
 
 At this point the operator interfered, and asked 
 if the conversation was to continue much longer. 
 
 " I am the Dowager Duchess of Berkshire," said 
 Arabella. 
 
 " Are you there ? " asked Monsieur Dumaresq. 
 
 " Oh," replied the dowager, " it was only those 
 tiresome people at the exchange. Well, do tell me 
 about him." 
 
 " I know that he lost all his money," continued 
 Monsieur Dumaresq. " His family had lands for 
 centuries in Tyrol, at Innsbruck, and they had also 
 a lovely place at Toblach, for I visited it when Von 
 Habenichts and I were young fellows. But he be- 
 came heavily involved in the failure of a great Aus- 
 trian bank " 
 
 Monsieur Dumaresq paused to yawn. 
 
 " Poor Monsieur Dumaresq, you are tired. It 
 is wicked of me," said the dowager, more and more 
 interested, and determined to keep him awake. 
 
 " Not at all. I was saying that Von Habenichts " 
 (yawning again) " Von Habenichts was ruined. 
 He went to England. I lost sight of him, and then 
 he published his great history. Your reception was 
 so crowded I had really little time to speak to him. 
 But be assured, Duchess, it is the same man. Of
 
 338 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 course, all sorts of adventures may have befallen him. 
 He was always a man who would stick at nothing." 
 
 " This is most interesting ! " exclaimed Arabella. 
 " It changes everything. Oh, I admire it ! And 
 people say that our class is played out! " 
 
 " Pshaw ! " said Monsieur Dumaresq, and sank 
 back wearily on his pillow, clasping the telephone 
 like a missal. 
 
 " It reminds me of that French marquis Heine 
 talks of," continued Arabella. 
 
 " Dear Heine ! " murmured Monsieur Dumaresq. 
 
 " Yes ; I love him, too. Well, you know, he tells 
 of a French marquis who fled during the Revolution 
 and went to a German town and became a shoemaker. 
 The only difference is that Baron von Habenichts 
 taught dancing." 
 
 " Yes," muttered Monsieur Dumaresq, almost 
 dozing. 
 
 " I hope you will sleep, Monsieur Dumaresq," said 
 the dowager. " Good night. Why, it 's almost three. 
 Good morning. I hope you will sleep." 
 
 " I hope you will, Duchess. Good-bye," cried 
 Monsieur Dumaresq, tucked the telephone under his 
 pillow, and fell on his side. 
 
 Arabella also slept, but not so soundly, and she 
 broke the habit of a lifetime by rising as early as 
 nine o'clock. A message was despatched to Baron 
 von Habenichts, whose address was given to the house-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 339 
 
 keeper by Dorothy. This, then, is the moment to 
 take the mask of incognito from the face of him 
 whom we have known as the old dance master., He 
 was surprised to find that the reason for the dowa- 
 ger's desire for an immediate interview was not on 
 Dorothy's or Marduke's account but on his own. 
 
 " Oh, Baron," she exclaimed, advancing to meet 
 him with outstretched hands and shaking curls, " have 
 you forgiven me? Baron von Habenichts, what a 
 rogue you are ! I have had a sleepless night and 
 then poor Monsieur Dumaresq " 
 
 " Ach ja," said Baron von Habenichts, blushing, 
 " it is Dumaresq. I vas avraid of it." 
 
 " I woke him up long before daylight, and we had 
 a conversation on the telephone all about you," con- 
 tinued the dowager, talking rapidly and with tho 
 vivacity of a woman of half her years. 
 
 Baron von Habenichts, who had come unscathed 
 through so many humiliations, was at last blushing, 
 and was unhappy. His serenity momentarily forsook 
 him. For there still lingered some debris of family 
 pride, and he would have liked to conceal his record 
 of misfortune from one of his own class. He would 
 have liked to retain his incognito till the end, because, 
 moneyless, he felt his ancient rank to be a mockery. 
 On the other hand, Arabella had suddenly conceived 
 a very great admiration for him, and felt that there 
 must be something heroic in his history. She was
 
 340 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 impatient to hear its romance. And this must be 
 said for her that she invariably treated with special 
 courtesy any member of any noblesse who had fallen 
 into poverty. She was quick, also, to feel ashamed 
 because she had mistrusted her own instincts, which 
 had told her, as they had told her other guests, that the 
 stranger who had suddenly appeared at her reception 
 was a man of their own world. 
 
 " Ach ja," said Baron von Habenichts, as he 
 sat beside her in her boudoir and began to be at 
 his ease again, " eine wunderbare Geschichte ! " 
 
 " Now will you lunch with me to-day ? " asked 
 the dowager. 
 
 " I lunch vith Mr. Marduke," said the baron ; 
 " his motor-car is at de door." 
 
 " Does he know ? " asked Arabella. 
 
 " Nein. I do not vish him or anyone to know. 
 Vat haf you done vith Dorrie, Duchesse? Dat is 
 de question." 
 
 " It is because I have so much to say on that 
 matter," said the dowager, with a slight frown, " that 
 I should like you to remain." 
 
 " Vith your permission, Duchesse, I vill write a 
 note and send it back in de car to Mr. Marduke ? " 
 asked the baron as he rose and walked to a writing- 
 table. 
 
 The note was soon written and despatched, and it 
 was evident that Arabella had taken full possession
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 341 
 
 of her new acquaintance. There was some quality 
 in him which made him at home everywhere and 
 attracted to him all classes of people. When he sat 
 on a spring day in the tattered garden opposite Wix's 
 Residential Hotel, in Fashion Row, children used 
 to run towards him because he told them stories. And 
 he would lay aside the book of poetry or philosophy 
 which he was reading in order to caress some stray 
 cat of evil aspect which came up to him, and learned 
 how to purr again. Perhaps, however, the most re- 
 markable fact of his career was the influence which 
 he was about to have upon Arabella, Duchess of 
 [Berkshire. 
 
 " Ach ja, Duchesse," he said, as she listened to 
 the tale of his adventures, " I vould not change my 
 experience for all de vorld. Like Chateaubriand, I 
 vished to haf de full programme of life. I vas Frei- 
 herr, baron, but I dropped de frei to become more 
 frei!" 
 
 " You are just like one of those emigres whom 
 Madame de Boigne mentions," said the dowager; 
 " people like the Duchess of Fitz-James who had to 
 leave everything behind them at the Revolution, and 
 were so poor that they used to go to evening parties 
 on the tops of London omnibuses. When they dined 
 with each other they were expected to leave three 
 shillings under a cup on the mantelpiece. I wish I 
 had been one of these people."
 
 342 THE OLD DANCE MASTEE 
 
 " I haf dined vith cabmen and vith kings, Du- 
 chesse," continued Baron von Habenichts, " and haf 
 been happy vith both. I haf worn de goloshes of 
 Fortune and de goloshes of Misfortune, and dey both 
 fit. You say vat is happiness? How could I haf 
 been happy vith all de money and de land gone? 
 Ach ja, read Epictetus. You mention Heine ? Heine 
 said he was not large enough to bear humilia- 
 tion. But I say, Duchesse, dat I am too big for 
 de leetle mousetraps of misfortune. Dey don't admit 
 me!" 
 
 And then he began to shake with gentle laughter, 
 and his eyes brightened as he recalled some of his 
 escapades. 
 
 " You ask how I velt ven I sold dance music, 
 and taught de dance ? " 
 
 " Yes," she said ; " you, a man of birth and cul- 
 ture." 
 
 " I velt like Baron von Habenichts," he replied. 
 " Noting ever vanquished my pride. Noting ever 
 destroyed me. Ach ja, I haf seen men blasted like 
 trees by de lightning of life, but it plays about my 
 head all de time, and I laugh. Listen, Duchesse, ve 
 cannot onderstand de vorld, de universe, vat is called 
 de cosmic ; but let us haf de comic ! Oh, but enough 
 of dis. Vat are you going to do vith Dorrie ? I 
 yould like to see her." 
 
 " Impossible, Baron," said Arabella ; " the corset-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 343 
 
 maker is with her at this moment, and the hair- 
 dresser is waiting." 
 
 " Ach ja," said Baron von Habenichts, laughing, 
 " it all koms right" 
 
 " Let us go in to luncheon," said Arabella, rising, 
 " and you will tell me all about your book." 
 
 " Haf you heard vat has happened to Sir John 
 Marduke ? " he asked as he offered his arm. 
 
 " No ; do tell me," she said as they walked to the 
 dining-room. 
 
 And during luncheon he gave her not only a rapid 
 sketch of the history of dancing in all ages and in all 
 countries, but told her of the event which had placed 
 Monty Marduke in control of the Marduke fortune. 
 
 " And the amount ? Do you remember the 
 amount ? " she asked. " How much has been saved ? " 
 
 " Ach Gott, I tink it is over four hundred tousand 
 pounds," he replied.
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOKD 
 
 Now there is a biography of Arabella, Duchess of 
 Berkshire, in which the author attempts to belittle 
 the part which Baron von Habenichts played in the 
 final occurrences of this history. We beg very respect- 
 fully to differ from that author. He is evidently 
 bent on the glorification of Arabella. We, on the 
 contrary, desire only to ascertain the truth. And we 
 hope that we have proved the truth to be this, that 
 without the Baron von Habenichts there would have 
 been no history to relate. 
 
 We have no desire to be unfair to Arabella. She 
 did play an important part. But she played it at 
 first grudgingly, and without the help of Baron von 
 Habenichts she never would have played it at all. 
 Dorothy was very reticent, and her reticence on so 
 delicate a matter did her infinite credit. But eye- 
 witnesses have told us that at first she suffered se- 
 verely, and that Arabella subjected her to a terrible 
 discipline. Arabella, indeed, became far more inter- 
 ested in Baron von Habenichts than in the poor found- 
 ling, the girl of the bright dark pedigree. That other 
 author, busy with his deification of Arabella, scouts 
 
 344
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 345 
 
 the rumour. But we have had access to private 
 papers which he has never seen, and we maintain that 
 there is not only ground for suspicion, but for proof, 
 that Arabella at last fell violently in love with Baron 
 von Habenichts. She wrote him at least five hundred 
 letters, she telephoned at least one thousand times, 
 and everybody knows that he became a regular habitue 
 of the house in Grosvenor Square. 
 
 This singular man seems to have been born in 
 order to prove the truth of that saying of Burke, 
 that the world is governed by go-betweens. Owing 
 to the generosity and the persuasion of his new friends, 
 he at last with reluctance shut the shutters of The 
 Original Jellini Academy of Dancing, but he con- 
 tinued to dance in and out of the lives of some of 
 the leading personages of our poor chronicle. The 
 statue of Terpsichore was conveyed to Wix's Resi- 
 dential Hotel, where Mrs. Wix, who went into a 
 rapture on its arrival, assigned to it a prominent 
 position in the entrance lobby. It was only Mrs. 
 Mepham who expressed astonishment and shock at 
 the fact that the goddess wore so few clothes. On the 
 other hand, many of the inmates gathered round the 
 statue to listen to a lecture on ancient sculpture by 
 Mr. Botolph. In the audience were Sir Samuel and 
 Lady Epworth, Mr. Pumpherston, Mr. and Mrs. Coon, 
 Mr. Snape, Mrs. Wix and Polly, while Wurm sat 
 at a respectful distance on the stair. Mrs. Wix led
 
 346 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 the cheering, and she was especially vociferous when 
 Mr. Botolph quoted Greek. When at the end of the 
 lecture Mr. Pumpherston ventured to criticise some 
 of the lecturer's remarks, Sir Samuel Epworth rose 
 and said that Mr. Pumpherston did not know what 
 he was talking about. A scene was avoided only by 
 the lucky arrival of Baron von Habenichts, who came 
 smiling among his friends and apologised for having 
 been delayed by important business with the elder 
 Jedder, senior partner of the firm of Jedder and 
 Jedder. There was considerable stir in the house 
 when it became known that the friendly old gentle- 
 man, the owner and exponent of Terpsichore, was 
 actually a Baron of the Austrian Empire. Mr. 
 Botolph and Sir Samuel Epworth declared that they 
 were not surprised, because they had long ago re- 
 marked his gentleness and good breeding. Mrs. Wix 
 claimed the same perception, and offered the Baron 
 a better room. She suspected that he was on the eve 
 of some great good fortune, because the footman of 
 Arabella, Duchess of Berkshire, frequently delivered 
 notes, and awaited replies. And it must be admitted 
 that it was no longer in Wix's Residential Hotel, 
 but in the house in Grosvenor Square, that the Baron's 
 interests and anxieties now centred. 
 
 She who had been called the Democratic Duchess 
 decided to solve in her own aristocratic way the diffi- 
 cult problem which had been presented to her. And
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 347 
 
 it was well for Monty Marduke and the girl he loved 
 that they had Von Habenichts as the negotiator of 
 the treaty of peace. The Baron had warned Monty 
 that the conditions would be severe, and they were 
 even severer than was expected. When in a moment 
 of impatience the young man presented himself at 
 Grosvenor Square he was refused an audience not 
 only by Arabella, but by Miss Dorothy Darsham. 
 The message which Von Habenichts had brought back 
 was this, that the amount and the duration of the 
 protection with which Arabella, Duchess of Berk- 
 shire, might favour the foundling would partly de- 
 pend on Mr. Marduke's behaviour. Moreover, the 
 foundling in a statement in her own handwriting 
 declared that during a period of six months, to be 
 extended if necessary to a period of twelve, or even 
 twenty-four, she would refuse to see Mr. Monty Mar- 
 duke on any pretext whatever. Monty showed the 
 document to the elder Jedder, who detected in it the 
 craft of Arabella, But Baron von Habenichts advised 
 Monty to accept the conditions and to be patient. 
 Arabella made it perfectly clear to all whom it might 
 concern that her ultimate decision regarding the in- 
 teresting orphan would depend upon whether that 
 orphan displayed certain signs of promise and achieve- 
 ment during the drastic process of education to which 
 she was going to be subjected. 
 
 " How ridiculous you men are ! " said Arabella to
 
 348 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 Baron von Habenichts. " Do you really suppose that 
 it would be possible to present this . . . this young 
 person to Monsieur Dumaresq or Lady Lormington 
 within six months or even twelve? I promise noth- 
 ing. It is an experiment, a very dangerous one, and 
 it is foolish of me to undertake it. But I will do 
 it for the sake of Gascoigne (poor Gascoigne; you 
 know, he is dead). She may turn out an absolute 
 failure, and in that case I will be charitable, that is 
 all. It would be uncharitable to launch her on a 
 life for which she is unfit, and if Monty Marduke 
 marries her he will be a fool. She will have nothing 
 from me. I think there may be the right material 
 in her. She will have great, very great beauty. 
 But many a common woman has great beauty, my 
 dear Baron. Well, we shall see. I am hoping, too, 
 to be able to prove that the Earl, her father, did 
 marry Louise Sherwin, the mother who, after all, 
 was the daughter of a landed gentleman of Essex." 
 
 " You vill never prove it, and vat does it matter ? " 
 asked the baron, imperturbably. " Ah, do not break 
 dat poor boy's heart. Two years! It is an eternity 
 for lovers, Duchesse." 
 
 The dowager, however, refused to change one item 
 of the plan which she had formed and which she set 
 out with such energy to realise. Baron von Habe- 
 nichts was told that he need not expect to see the 
 orphan for a long time.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 349 
 
 " Ach ja," he said, trying to comfort Monty, " de 
 Duchesse has taken de Dorrie avay, and kidnapped 
 de leetle girl. But vait. Haf patience. De Duchesse 
 is great ! " 
 
 How many scoldings and humiliations fell to the 
 lot of the fortunate child before the great day when 
 she was to be inspected and judged by Lady Lor- 
 mington and Monsieur Dumaresq would require an- 
 other book and a better author. Throughout that ex- 
 asperating time Baron von Habenichts attempted in 
 Vain to mitigate the rigorous discipline upon which 
 the mind of Arabella was set. She declared to him 
 with a touch of playful venom that the young stranger 
 was perfect in nothing, hopelessly imperfect in every- 
 thing except in dancing. 
 
 " Now, child, stop weeping. You are making a 
 fool of yourself. Hold yourself better. That is not 
 the way to enter a room. Let me see your hands. 
 Hem ! Let me see you cut that peach. Hem ! Well, 
 it will do. Now rise again. Let me see you walk. 
 Oh, not so fast ! Let me see you bow. You are very 
 gauche. That is not the way to bow to a gentleman, 
 not the way to rise from table, not the way to leave a 
 room. Are you utterly stupid ? " 
 
 "Yes, aunt," said Dorothy, near the edge of 
 tears. 
 
 " I did not give you permission to call me 
 1 aunt ' ! " said the dowager, shaking her locks as
 
 350 THE OLD DANCE MASTEK 
 
 Banquo's ghost shook his and so terrified Macbeth. 
 " Now go to your rooms." 
 
 Dorothy moved sorrowfully towards the door and 
 attempted to stifle her sobs. 
 
 " Stop ! " said the dowager. " What perfume are 
 you using ? " 
 
 " Cceur de Jeannette, Duchess," replied Dorothy. 
 
 " That is right. Now you may go." 
 
 A battalion of educationalists of all sorts and of 
 both sexes had been enrolled. English masters, and 
 masters of French, of German and of Italian, music 
 and singing masters, dressmakers, milliners, boot and 
 slipper makers, and makers of corsets, jewellers, mani- 
 curists, hair-dressers and parf umeurs for these also 
 are educationalists were busy with the girl of the 
 stained pedigree and were transforming her until 
 she lost her identity and became a new creature. 
 Two governesses and a lady's maid watched over her 
 movements when walking or driving in the Park, 
 when shopping, at matinees, at concerts, and in the 
 riding school. No correspondence was permitted, but 
 she was required to write a letter once a week to the 
 dowager as a test of progress. She breakfasted, 
 lunched, and dined with the governesses, and was never 
 visible to any of Arabella's callers, who, however, 
 had heard whispers that the dowager was engaged in 
 an extraordinary experiment; but they dared not 
 asi any questions.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 351 
 
 " Don't be afraid of me, you foolish child," said 
 Arabella one morning, as she held a sheet of paper 
 in her hand ; " who is responsible for your hair ? Tell 
 Frew that I do not admire that style. Well, pro- 
 nounce these words Montague, lointain, Princesse 
 Lointaine, mille, menu, au revoir, garqon, fille, splen- 
 dide, plaisir, nuit, plat, mystere, Talleyrand, Cor- 
 neille, Villon, Regnier, Le Roi Soleil." 
 
 Dorothy repeated the words one by one, and her 
 accent was better than Arabella's. 
 
 " What are you reading with Monsieur Bacourt ? " 
 
 " t Le Rouge et le Noir,' " answered Dorothy. 
 
 " Really ! " exclaimed the dowager. " I am sur- 
 prised it is not ' Les Liaisons Dangereuses.' I must 
 see Monsieur Bacourt about this. Stendhal I cer- 
 tainly admire. I believe it was Nietzsche who said 
 that he was one of the great psychologists of the 
 nineteenth century. But you are too young to read 
 him. What is psychology? And tell me what you 
 know of Nietzsche ? " 
 
 To these last questions Dorothy gave very un- 
 satisfactory answers, and was dismissed. The dowa- 
 ger was secretly pleased with her, but was too astute 
 to display premature satisfaction. " She will grow 
 into an extraordinarily lovely woman. There is no 
 doubt about it. And I think she has brains. But 
 the battle will not be won for a long time, Baron. 
 Tell that foolish youth that if he makes any further
 
 352 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 attempts to come here I will cut her adrift. She 
 will certainly be lovely." 
 
 " Ach ja, Duchesse, and de vorld vorgives lovely 
 vomen and brave men much," replied the baron. 
 " Ve vorgive you, and ve vill vait."
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD 
 
 AND while we too are waiting we may glance again 
 at the list of our minor mortals. For Dorothy's 
 education was so prolonged that during the course 
 of it many changes occurred in their lives and for- 
 tunes. To begin with, the negotiations with Sam 
 Larkin were tedious as well as stormy, but they were 
 in the cautious hands of the elder Jedder, and they 
 were brought to a successful end. Dorothy was hardly 
 surprised when the truth regarding her real par- 
 entage was at last revealed to her. She seemed to 
 have awakened from a troubled dream, and all her 
 past life became alien and unreal. Mr. Larkin'a 
 harsh treatment of her and her experiences with the 
 two dreadful women made it impossible for her to 
 indulge in any false sentiment of regret that she 
 would probably never see any of the three again. 
 Nevertheless, she was kind to Sam in his old age. 
 On the advice of Jedder and with entire approval 
 of it she assigned to Sam her right to the small 
 inheritance which had come to her through her mother, 
 the unfortunate Louise Sherwin, sometime mistress 
 of the Earl of Swaffham. Sam had need of it be- 
 
 353
 
 354 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 cause his affairs had lately been far from prosperous. 
 He was eager to quit London for his Essex farm, 
 and Mr. Jedder took admirable advantage of the 
 opportunity. Mr. Jedder, in fact, purchased the 
 cab-yard freehold, pulled down the old coach-houses 
 and stables, erected a large property on the site, and 
 ultimately reaped a profit of twenty-five thousand 
 pounds. We cannot wander indefinitely through the 
 labyrinth of causes, else we might pause to consider 
 that once more even in the case of Mr. Jedder's good 
 fortune, the hand of Baron von Habenichts is visible. 
 Eor Mr. Jedder never would have been brought into 
 relation with Larkin unless Baron von Habenichts 
 had discovered Dorothy. Sam went gladly back to 
 Essex and he took his sisters with him. After pro- 
 longed negotiations Mrs. Bleeks consented to be rec- 
 onciled to her brother, and she declared that she had 
 forgiven him. When she heard who " Herr Habe- 
 nichts " was she received a shock, and proposed to 
 write a letter of apology. 
 
 " Wot 's 'e thinkin' of the things I said to 'im, 
 and 'im a Baron ? " she exclaimed. " It 's enough 
 to make a cat larf ! " 
 
 But she passed her days tranquilly on the borders 
 of Epping Forest, at peace with all the world with 
 the exception of Mrs. Muzzey. She used to recall 
 life in the cab-yard, and wondered where all the old 
 cabs and cab horses and cabmen had gone. The cabs
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 355 
 
 had been sold for a song ; the cab horses had gone the 
 way of all flesh, and the cabmen were fast going. 
 Swefling, with deep rage in his heart, and suffering 
 in an obscure inarticulate way, went to Canada, and 
 became a fierce horseman in the far West. That is 
 all that is authentically known about him. Vardy 
 found employment as groom in the stables of Mr. 
 Monty Marduke, and began to learn better English 
 and better manners. In Wix's Residential Hotel 
 there was less change. Mrs. Mepham, Mr. Pumpher- 
 ston, the Epworths, Mr. and Mrs. Coon, Mr. Snape, 
 and Mr. Botolph still sat at the same table, and dis- 
 cussed with the same warmth the same topics. The 
 absence of Baron von Habenichts, for reasons pres- 
 ently to be explained, was deplored by none so sin- 
 cerely as by Mrs. Wix. Polly moped and drooped 
 at the departure of Swefling, and was called " a rag 
 bag " by her mother again, but she secretly cherished 
 the hope of one day making her escape to Canada. 
 
 It was at Portland Place that the greatest change 
 occurred. For Sir John Marduke, wearied out by 
 his strange struggle with his own ideals, died at 
 last, and was succeeded in the baronetcy by his son. 
 An unfortunate estrangement had taken place between 
 brother and sister. Minnie refused to contemplate 
 her brother's proposed marriage, no matter what Ara- 
 bella, Duchess of Berkshire, might do for the bastard 
 orphan, who, it was said, was to be the bride. Her
 
 356 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 share in the Marduke estate brought her an ample 
 maintenance, and she finally settled in Paris. And 
 now Sir Monty was master of the house in Portland 
 Place, exactly eleven months after Dorothy had been 
 received by the dowager duchess. His astonishment 
 when he heard of the real status of the old friend 
 without whom he never could have met the girl whom 
 he hoped to make his wife was very great, and his 
 action was very characteristic. For he immediately 
 invited Baron von Habenichts to be his guest in Port- 
 land Place. The baron accepted the invitation, but 
 he left the statue of Terpsichore as a hostage with 
 Mrs. Wix, and said that one day he might return. 
 Sir Monty would not hear of it. 
 
 " I can never repay you," he said, " for all that you 
 have done for Dorothy, never, never." 
 
 " Ach, I do not like de vord ' pay,' " replied the 
 baron; " among vriends dere is no need of pay except 
 vith de coin of kindness. Ve both vait vor dat ter- 
 rible duchesse ! " 
 
 Nevertheless, the baron discovered that his bank 
 balance, which on the previous day had stood exactly 
 at seventeen pounds three shillings and threepence, 
 suddenly mounted to the sum of five thousand and 
 seventeen pounds three shillings and threepence. With 
 characteristic independence and pride he refused to 
 accept so large a sum without offering security, and 
 with great earnestness he proposed to transfer to the
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 357 
 
 young baronet the copyright of " The History of 
 Dancing, in all Ages, and among all Peoples." Sir 
 Monty, to please him, took over the rights, and the 
 business was settled. It is true that the book had 
 apparently no market value whatever, but its author 
 maintained that its time was coming. Arabella had 
 likewise made delicate inquiries as to the Baron's 
 financial position, and eagerly desired to assist him. 
 His serenity in the midst of poverty and no hope 
 astonished her. But all that she got from him was 
 
 " Ach ja, I vait. De future is de great pank for 
 us all." 
 
 " Oh," she said to him one day, with a great shake 
 of her curls, " I have had good news from Monsieur 
 Dumaresq. He says that that horrible speculative 
 banking company in which your capital was invested 
 has been slowly recovering, and will yet liquidate all 
 its debts." 
 
 " Ach ja," replied the baron, laughing, " I vill be 
 dead by dat time. I haf danced my life avay. Vat 
 are you doing vith Dorrie? Dat is de question. I 
 vill be dead before I see her. And you break de boy's 
 heart, too." 
 
 But Arabella shook her curls at him again, and 
 remained obstinate. Her tyranny compelled him to 
 become a conspirator, and with the help of a govern- 
 ess he succeeded in passing letters between the lovers. 
 At the end of the first year Sir Monty expected that
 
 358 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 the great moment of meeting had arrived, but Baron 
 von Habenichts was. told to inform him that Miss 
 Dorothy Darsham, in the company of two governesses 
 and a lady's maid, had gone to Paris to complete her 
 education. Thereafter she was to start for Italy and 
 the Levant, and she was to spend two months in 
 Cairo, one in Athens, and one in Algiers. It was 
 with the greatest difficulty that Baron von Habe- 
 nichts prevented 1 Sir Monty from following like a 
 sleuthhound. 
 
 " Nein, vait," he said, " it all koms right, and I 
 haf a plan." 
 
 His plan was as follows. It occurred to him that 
 during this exasperating delay they should attempt 
 to bring distinction to Dorothy, apart from anything 
 which the dowager might be able to achieve for her. 
 Now Mr. Jedder, during his negotiations with Sam 
 Larkin, had discovered a dozen of her pictures in a 
 coach-house. He was informed that they were the 
 work and property of Miss Dorothy Darsham, and he 
 sent them to Baron von Habenichts, who stored them 
 in his room in Wix's Residential Hotel. He now 
 decided to send some of them to the Spring Exhi- 
 bition at the Academy, and others to an Exhibition 
 in the Grafton Galleries. Sir Monty entered enthu- 
 siastically into the scheme, so that, unknown to Dor- 
 othy, her pictures were already hanging on the line. 
 Laudatory notices began to appear in the newspapers
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 359 
 
 and the art journals and critics asked, " Who is Miss 
 Dorothy Darsham ? " Her name was mentioned along 
 with the names of Angelica Kaufmann, Madame le 
 Brun, and Rosa Bonheur. One picture entitled, " A 
 London Cab Yard," was described as a masterpiece 
 of characterisation, and was said to be " full of at- 
 mosphere." But the forest pieces attracted most at- 
 tention. Thus it was at the private view of the 
 Academy that Arabella, Duchess of Berkshire, found 
 herself standing before a charming little landscape 
 called, " Morning in Epping Forest." She remarked 
 upon it, and stood looking at it through her lorgnette. 
 
 "Ach ja, Duchesse," said Baron von Habenichts, 
 who, in faultless frock coat and with his silk hat in 
 his hand, was standing beside her. " De Times says 
 it has de quality of Corot, and de Morning Post dat 
 it has de quality of Vatteau." 
 
 " I cannot see how it can have both ! " exclaimed 
 Monsieur Dumaresq, " but it is perfectly charming, 
 BO cool, so full of the colour of the morning. Why, 
 it has the dew in it ! " 
 
 " I would like to have it," said Arabella. " I will 
 buy it" 
 
 " I vould not be surprised if it is bought already, 
 Duchesse," said von Habenichts, on the verge of 
 laughter, smiling and exchanging knowing glances 
 with Monsieur Dumaresq. 
 
 " Perhaps a dealer has bought it," said Arabella.
 
 360 THE OLD DANCE MASTEK 
 
 " Would you inquire ? I will buy it from 
 him." 
 
 Baron von Habenichts walked into another room 
 while Arabella continued to study the picture and to 
 express her admiration. 
 
 " A dealer, Duchesse ? " exclaimed the baron, who 
 had returned. " De dealer is Sir Monty Marduke." 
 
 " Then he is a double dealer," said Monsieur 
 Dumaresq, who was in the secret. 
 
 " Monty ! Oh ? " said the dowager. " He has in- 
 herited his mother's love of pictures, then. I am 
 glad. Who painted this ? Will you look up the 
 catalogue, Baron ? " 
 
 Baron von Habenichts solemnly opened the cata- 
 logue at the right number, and read out the follow- 
 ing " ' Morning in Epping Eorest.' By Dorothy 
 Darsham.' " 
 
 Arabella turned, and gave him a hurried look. 
 " Ach ja," he said, laughing while Monsieur Du- 
 maresq joined in, " she is vamous already. All de 
 town talks about her." 
 
 " But I did n't know that she painted at all ! " ex- 
 claimed Arabella. " Did you, Monsieur Dumaresq ? " 
 
 " Yes," he said, " and I am only waiting impa- 
 tiently to see her." 
 
 " This is a revelation," said Arabella, as she re- 
 ceived the congratulations of her friends, and exam- 
 ined the picture once more.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 361 
 
 " Where is she, Duchess ? " asked Monsieur Du- 
 maresq. " When are we to be privileged to see this 
 extraordinary young creature ? " 
 
 " I had a telegram from Budapest this morning," 
 said Arabella, adding nothing. 
 
 But flushed and pleased she drove back to Grosve- 
 nor Square. There had been various rumours that 
 a most romantic marriage was to take place in June, 
 and Sir Monty Marduke's name was coupled with 
 the name of a daughter of the Earl of Swaffham. 
 She had come from nowhere, and the mystery thick- 
 ened. The dowager looked forward with some anx- 
 iety to the debut because she feared the tongues of 
 the cacklers and of the scandal merchants of both 
 sexes. At some moment she lost heart, and became 
 angry with herself for having attempted the experi- 
 ment. But she trusted friends like Lady Lorming- 
 ton, Monsieur Dumaresq, and Count Stein. The 
 audacity, the generosity of the experiment would 
 silence and baffle those who jibed and joked. More- 
 over, the dowager was conscious of the beginnings 
 of old age, and she was looking out for an heir. She, 
 too, had now become impatient for Dorothy's suc- 
 cess. That success was assured the moment that 
 Monsieur Dumaresq, with eye-glass duly mounted, 
 uttered a subdued exclamation of delight and 
 surprise when he saw the long-expected vision of 
 beauty enter the room. She wore a mauve gown.
 
 362 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 All eyes were upon her, and her triumph was 
 instantaneous. 
 
 " She is perfectly lovely," whispered Lady Lor- 
 mington to Arabella as they walked in to luncheon. 
 It was a round table, and besides the hostess, Lady 
 Lormington, and Dorothy, there were present Mon- 
 sieur Dumaresq, Count Stein and Baron von Habe- 
 nichts. The last was strangely silent. He had 
 hardly recognised Dorothy, who had now the air of 
 a dame du monde. He was almost too pleased to 
 speak, and seemed to be transported to earlier scenes 
 and to be busy with the fantasies of his phantas- 
 magoria. Dorothy was not surprised to find him at 
 her aunt's house, for she had already been told the 
 true tale of his career. She sat between him and 
 Monsieur Dumaresq. 
 
 " Ach ja," said the baron to her, " you miss some 
 one? He koms, he koms." 
 
 Dorothy blushed. She acquitted herself admirably 
 in conversation, and when she began to speak of 
 Italy, Baron von Habenichts recovered his usual 
 animation. He delighted Arabella by his quotation 
 from the poetry of Lorenzo dei Medici, and it was 
 with a smile and a glance at Dorothy that he re- 
 peated a verse of the song to a dancer 
 
 " Ella e direttamente ballerina 
 Ch'ella si lancia come una capretta 
 E gira piu che ruota di mulina 
 E dassi delle man nella scarpetta."
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 363 
 
 " When is the wedding to be ? " asked Lady 
 Lormington. f 
 
 " Whenever they wish," replied Arabella, " she 
 shall have my pearls, you know." 
 
 The guests departed as if by arrangement, and 
 the dowager and Dorothy were left alone in the 
 best drawing-room. 
 
 " Will you let me kiss you ? " asked Dorothy. 
 
 " Yes," said Arabella, offering her old grey cheek, 
 " and you can call me ' aunt ' for ever. You are a 
 dear child. I am very pleased with you." 
 
 At that moment Sir Monty Marduke was an- 
 nounced. But before the young baronet entered the 
 dowager had risen, and had said to her niece, " Be 
 sensible ! " and with a shake of her curls had walked 
 out by the east door in a very stately fashion.
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURTH 
 
 THE ink bottle grows empty, the pen stumbles to its 
 last paragraph, and our troupe come home one by 
 one from their strolling. It was fitting that he who 
 had been the most prominent in all their antics should 
 play an important role in the final scene. There- 
 fore, it was Baron von Habenichts who, at the most 
 brilliant marriage of that season in London, gave 
 the bride away. While the house in Portland Place 
 was being prepared for the reception of the new 
 Lady Marduke, he had gone quietly back to Wix's 
 Residential Hotel. Mrs. Wix was deceived, how- 
 ever, if she supposed that he would remain for any 
 length of time. The baron was somewhat annoyed 
 by a recent action of Mr. Coon, who, unable to con- 
 trol his journalistic instincts, had sent long accounts 
 of his career to the newspapers under the title of 
 " The Dancing Baron," and " The Dancing Philoso- 
 pher." Now we certainly know that he was not a 
 whit ashamed of his adventures. But Mr. Coon had 
 embellished his narrative with imaginative matter 
 some of which was offensive. The Baron was be- 
 sieged by reporters. He laughed very heartily when 
 
 364
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 365 
 
 he was invited to appear on the variety stage. The 
 Baron had actually become famous, and the four or 
 five thousand volumes of " The History of Dancing " 
 were brought from the cellar in which they were 
 mouldering, and were placed upon the book market 
 A new edition was announced, whereupon Sir Monty 
 Marduke gallantly retransferred the copyright to the 
 author. Articles and paragraphs began to appear 
 in the Press concerning the foreign nobleman who 
 had doffed his noblesse and had fought and defied 
 poverty in London, and had taught polkas and quad- 
 rilles, minuets and the two-step in The Original Jellini 
 Academy of Dancing. Mrs. Wix was much pleased 
 when she saw her parlour crowded by interviewers. 
 There was a great demand for bedrooms, and the house 
 began to fill. She offered the baron a suite for noth- 
 ing, and was offended at his refusal. 
 
 " Ach ja," said he, turning to Mr. Botolph with a 
 laugh, " it 's like the innkeeper who kept Dumas 
 pere as a show, and gave him. food and drink for no- 
 ting. Only I am not Dumas ! " 
 
 Mrs. Wix's attentions and those of Mr. Coon and 
 even of Mr. Pumpherston began to weary him. Mr. 
 Snape the dentist had likewise developed into a bore. 
 He had written a long book on the " Physiology of 
 Sneezing," insisted on reading immense passages to 
 the baron, and asked him as a successful author and 
 as a great gentleman to use his influence to have the
 
 366 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 book published. The baron, however, genially ex- 
 pressed his regret, and then sneezed. Life at Wix's 
 was becoming burdensome in spite of the entertain- 
 ment which was still provided by Sir Samuel Ep- 
 worth's hilarity, and in spite of the friendship of Mr. 
 Botolph, who implored Baron von Habenichts to 
 remain. 
 
 But on a certain evening in June there was con- 
 sternation in the hotel. A large van was at the door, 
 and the statue of Terpsichore was being carried down 
 the steps on the shoulders of four stalwart men. A 
 trunk and a travelling bag each with the name Habe- 
 nichts followed Terpsichore into the van. Moreover, 
 other luggage labelled " Henry Botolph 4 , Esq.," was 
 placed on the roof of a four-wheeled cab which was 
 in waiting. Mrs. Wix was casting recriminations on 
 the baron and accusing him of conspiracy. For 
 Wurm had decided to follow him and die in his 
 service, and a chambermaid had made the same 
 declaration. 
 
 " They did n't give notice," said Mrs. Wix, an- 
 grily. " / won't pay wages to 'em." 
 
 " I told them not to kom, Mrs. Yix. But they 
 kom! Good-bye! I vill pay de vages," said the 
 baron, leading the procession down the steps. 
 
 Wurm and the chambermaid went off, walking, 
 and Mr. Botolph and the baron entered the cab after 
 they had waved farewell to the Wixians assembled 
 at the door.
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 367 
 
 That morning a conversation had taken place 
 between Mr. Botolph' and the baron in Mrs. Wix's 
 parlour while they were drinking Madeira together. 
 The baron said that he had an extraordinary 
 communication to make. On the previous day Sir 
 Monty Marduke had driven up in a smart dog-cart, 
 attended by a smart groom of the name of Vardy, 
 who stood at the horse's head while the young baro- 
 net entered Wix's Residential Hotel, and asked to 
 see Baron von Habenichts. The interview had been 
 a most affecting one, and much that passed between 
 the two men cannot be revealed. It may be said, 
 however, that after Sir Monty's departure the baron 
 was hardly master of his own emotion. His eyes were 
 suffused, and he was not altogether capable of giving 
 expression to his feeling. But he was glad that Mr. 
 Botolph came into the room because he desired to 
 speak to him. Mr. Botolph sat in an armchair, and, 
 as usual, he had Bradshaw in his hand. 
 
 " I am," he said, " just going over to Euston to 
 meet the train from Liverpool. My son is sure to be 
 there. This is the great surprise." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Botolph," said Baron von Habenichts, 
 " virst listen to me. / haf a great surprise. Ja, 
 extraordinary ! Sir Monty has just told me incredible 
 news. Oh, vat do you suppose ? He says that he has 
 bought a fine house in Russell Square, vurnished it, 
 dat it is mine for life vith one tousand five hundred
 
 368 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 a year. Dej haf been preparing it during de last 
 two months, and de duchesse help them." 
 
 " I am delighted," said Mr. Botolph. " He is a 
 splendid young fellow, and he shows his gratitude 
 for all that you have done for his future wife. The 
 marriage takes place this week." 
 
 " Yes," replied the baron, " my leetle tancer is de 
 vender of de season. All rave about her, and de 
 duchesse is praised vor de great success. But dat 
 is not all. Anoder great surprise. I ask you to kom 
 and live vith me. Vat could I do alone in de big 
 house? Kom, Mr. Botolph." 
 
 Mr. Botolph's refined pale face was illuminated 
 by a faint smile as he rose and shook his friend's 
 hand. 
 
 " I will be your guest for a short time with the 
 greatest pleasure," he said ; " but I am a poor man, 
 and you are about to enter, you have already re-en- 
 tered the kind of society to which you really belong. 
 Besides, what about my son ? He will wish his father 
 to live with him after such a separation." 
 
 " Ach ja," replied Baron von Habenichts, turning 
 away his head, " dere will be room vor him, too." 
 
 " Oh, this is my dream! " exclaimed Mr. Botolph. 
 " Thank you, thank you. Just forgive me. I '11 run 
 across to Euston to meet him, and I will tell him. Oh, 
 this is my dream ! " 
 
 Mr. Botolph went, and came back, after twenty
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 369 
 
 minutes, and sank exhausted in his chair again. Then 
 he said softly , but in a tone of assurance which 
 showed that his mind would never lose hold of ite 
 undying illusion 
 
 " Not there ! But it is only an adjournment." 
 
 Now, to the dark philosophy which teaches that 
 the human soul has lost the way of happiness and can 
 never find it, Baron von Habenichts replied that it 
 can never find it outside of itself. He knew, of course, 
 that Mr. Botolph's son would never return. He 
 knew that his own property was lost for ever, but 
 he said that the soul's real property is in its emotions. 
 His own plunge into poverty had taught him that 
 there is hardly any situation on which character may 
 not react, and react with victory, for a man's char- 
 acter is his Providence. Life may be acid, but the 
 soul need not become the acidimeter. 
 
 " Ach ja, Mr. Botolph," he said, when they were 
 both sitting after dinner at their wine in the dining- 
 room at Russell Square, " dere is a law vich is true 
 in morals as also in gymnastics. If you climb and 
 turn giddy, do not look down. De giddiness becomes 
 vorse. Look up, and it goes avay ! " 
 
 A tall footman of the name of Ridpath, who, since 
 we last met him, has made wonderful progress in his 
 education, opens the door of the house in Russell 
 Square, and he has to open it frequently because 
 Baron von Habenichts has troops of friends. The first
 
 370 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 object which meets the eye of the visitor as he enters 
 the house is the statue of Terpsichore from which its 
 owner has decided never to part, because she is the 
 symbol of the dance and rhythm of things. And 
 Terpsichore is at home there, because occasionally the 
 baron gives a dance to which Arabella, Duchess of 
 Berkshire, and Lady Marduke bring distinguished 
 and fascinating young guests. 
 
 " You are one of those rare men," said Mr. Botolph, 
 "who remain unpoisoned by the poisons of this world." 
 
 " I haf had a happy life, Mr. Botolph," replied 
 the baron. " I haf seen de fun everywhere, in Mrs. 
 Vix's as well as vith de duchesse. Ve must take 
 risks. Ven de potter makes a vase he knows it is a 
 risk becose a vase is easily broken. Ach ja, and ven 
 Gott makes a heart, He knows it is a risk becose a 
 heart is easily broken. I like de hearts dat break as 
 de day breaks into sunshine! I like de varm flesh 
 and blood, not de vrozen meat of humanity! I re- 
 peat to myself de lines of de Orphic formula 
 
 ' t To hold a hand uplifted over Hate, 
 And shall not Loveliness be loved for ever! ' ' 
 
 He was a man who had never done an ungenerous 
 act, who had never given to an ungenerous thought 
 guest-room in his brain. He was everywhere welcome, 
 and hardly a day passed on which he was not visited 
 by Sir Monty and Lady Marduke, of whose happiness
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 371 
 
 he was the author. Mr. Botolph leads a dreamier 
 and more secluded life. Often his host, standing at 
 the dining-room window and looking out over the 
 Square, observes him furtively escaping in the direc- 
 tion of Euston to meet the son who will never ar- 
 rive. And then, if it be an afternoon in spring or 
 in summer, the baron walks in the pleasant gardens 
 where, under the great trees, he can hear, like the 
 breaking of waves far off, the roar of London.
 
 372 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 
 
 Post Scriptum 
 
 The author had scarcely completed his task when 
 he made a remarkable discovery. He was aware, 
 as the text shows, of the letters which Arabella, 
 Duchess of Berkshire, wrote to Baron von Habenichts, 
 but he had never seen the baron's replies. These 
 have now been placed in his hands, and the entire 
 correspondence contains the most moving history 
 since Heloise and Abelard. For it not only reveals 
 the patience, long suffering and delicate chivalry of 
 the baron, and the vigour and excitement of Ara- 
 bella, but it throws a very startling light on the in- 
 trigue and jealousy of Monsieur Dumaresq, Count 
 Stein, Lady Lormington, and many others. The two 
 houses in Grosvenor and Russell Square became, 
 indeed, foci of wonderful conspiracy, and it was in 
 vain that Sir Monty and Lady Marduke attempted 
 to prevent war between the two camps. The letters 
 are full of Habenichtian wisdom, and, besides, they 
 contain many references to the baron's former as- 
 sociates. Sir Samuel Epworth, even Mr. Pumpher-
 
 THE OLD DANCE MASTER 373 
 
 ston, even Mrs. Wix, even Mrs. Bleeks reappear in 
 Russell Square, and the baron's later life was not 
 as tranquil as it promised to be. An effort will be 
 made to reduce all this overflowing material to order, 
 and to publish it in due season.
 
 J spynN REQOML LBRMY FACUT> 
 
 A 000 035 987 7