Iasked
.
"
For
the
week-end
.
Thank
God
for
week-ends
,
George
!
"
My
return
home
to
Lady
Grove
was
a
very
different
thing
from
what
I
had
anticipated
when
I
had
got
out
to
sea
with
my
load
of
quap
and
fancied
the
Perfect-Filament
was
safe
within
my
grasp
.
As
I
walked
through
the
evening
light
along
the
downs
,
the
summer
stillness
seemed
like
the
stillness
of
something
newly
dead
.
There
were
no
lurking
workmen
any
more
,
no
cyclists
on
the
high
road
.
Cessation
was
manifest
everywhere
.
There
had
been
,
I
learnt
from
my
aunt
,
a
touching
and
quite
voluntary
demonstration
when
the
Crest
Hill
work
had
come
to
an
end
and
the
men
had
drawn
their
last
pay
;
they
had
cheered
my
uncle
and
hooted
the
contractors
and
Lord
Boom
.
I
cannot
now
recall
the
manner
in
which
my
aunt
and
I
greeted
one
another
.
I
must
have
been
very
tired
there
,
but
whatever
impression
was
made
has
gone
out
of
my
memory
.
But
I
recall
very
clearly
how
we
sat
at
the
little
round
table
near
the
big
window
that
gave
on
the
terrace
,
and
dined
and
talked
.
I
remember
her
talking
of
my
uncle
.
She
asked
after
him
,
and
whether
he
seemed
well
.
"
I
wish
I
could
help
,
"
she
said
.
"
But
I
've
never
helped
him
much
,
never
.
His
way
of
doing
things
was
never
mine
.
And
since-since-
.
Since
he
began
to
get
so
rich
,
he
's
kept
things
from
me
.
In
the
old
days-it
was
different
...
.
"
There
he
is-I
do
n't
know
what
he
's
doing
.
He
wo
n't
have
me
near
him
...
.
"
More
's
kept
from
me
than
anyone
.
The
very
servants
wo
n't
let
me
know
.
They
try
and
stop
the
worst
of
the
papers-Boom
's
things-from
coming
upstairs
...
.
I
suppose
they
've
got
him
in
a
corner
,
George
.
Poor
old
Teddy
!
Poor
old
Adam
and
Eve
we
are
!
Ficial
Receivers
with
flaming
swords
to
drive
us
out
of
our
garden
!
I
'd
hoped
we
'd
never
have
another
Trek
.
Well-anyway
,
it
wo
n't
be
Crest
Hill
...
.
But
it
's
hard
on
Teddy
.
He
must
be
in
such
a
mess
up
there
.
Poor
old
chap
.
I
suppose
we
ca
n't
help
him
.
I
suppose
we
'd
only
worry
him
.
Have
some
more
soup
George-while
there
is
some
?
...
"
The
next
day
was
one
of
those
days
of
strong
perception
that
stand
out
clear
in
one
's
memory
when
the
common
course
of
days
is
blurred
.
I
can
recall
now
the
awakening
in
the
large
familiar
room
that
was
always
kept
for
me
,
and
how
I
lay
staring
at
its
chintz-covered
chairs
,
its
spaced
fine
furniture
,
its
glimpse
of
the
cedars
without
,
and
thought
that
all
this
had
to
end
.
I
have
never
been
greedy
for
money
,
I
have
never
wanted
to
be
rich
,
but
I
felt
now
an
immense
sense
of
impending
deprivation
.
I
read
the
newspapers
after
breakfast-I
and
my
aunt
together-and
then
I
walked
up
to
see
what
Cothope
had
done
in
the
matter
of
Lord
Roberts
B
.
Never
before
had
I
appreciated
so
acutely
the
ample
brightness
of
the
Lady
Grove
gardens
,
the
dignity
and
wide
peace
of
all
about
me
.
It
was
one
of
those
warm
mornings
in
late
May
that
have
won
all
the
glory
of
summer
without
losing
the
gay
delicacy
of
spring
.
The
shrubbery
was
bright
with
laburnum
and
lilac
,
the
beds
swarmed
with
daffodils
and
narcissi
and
with
lilies
of
the
valley
in
the
shade
.
I
went
along
the
well-kept
paths
among
the
rhododendra
and
through
the
private
gate
into
the
woods
where
the
bluebells
and
common
orchid
were
in
profusion
.
Never
before
had
I
tasted
so
completely
the
fine
sense
of
privilege
and
ownership
.
And
all
this
has
to
end
,
I
told
myself
,
all
this
has
to
end
.
Neither
my
uncle
nor
I
had
made
any
provision
for
disaster
;
all
we
had
was
in
the
game
,
and
I
had
little
doubt
now
of
the
completeness
of
our
ruin
.
For
the
first
time
in
my
life
since
he
had
sent
me
that
wonderful
telegram
of
his
I
had
to
consider
that
common
anxiety
of
mankind
,
-Employment
.
I
had
to
come
off
my
magic
carpet
and
walk
once
more
in
the
world
.
And
suddenly
I
found
myself
at
the
cross
drives
where
I
had
seen
Beatrice
for
the
first
time
after
so
many
years
.
It
is
strange
,
but
so
far
as
I
can
recollect
I
had
not
thought
of
her
once
since
I
had
landed
at
Plymouth
.
No
doubt
she
had
filled
the
background
of
my
mind
,
but
I
do
not
remember
one
definite
,
clear
thought
.
I
had
been
intent
on
my
uncle
and
the
financial
collapse
.
It
came
like
a
blow
in
the
face
now
;
all
that
,
too
,
had
to
end
!
Suddenly
I
was
filled
with
the
thought
of
her
and
a
great
longing
for
her
.
What
would
she
do
when
she
realised
our
immense
disaster
?
What
would
she
do
?
How
would
she
take
it
?
It
filled
me
with
astonishment
to
realise
how
little
I
could
tell
...
.
Should
I
perhaps
presently
happen
upon
her
?
I
went
on
through
the
plantations
and
out
upon
the
downs
,
and
thence
I
saw
Cothope
with
a
new
glider
of
his
own
design
soaring
down
wind
to
my
old
familiar
"
grounding
"
place
.
To
judge
by
its
long
rhythm
it
was
a
very
good
glider
.
"
Like
Cothope
's
cheek
,
"
thought
I
,
"
to
go
on
with
the
research
.
I
wonder
if
he
's
keeping
notes
...
.
But
all
this
will
have
to
stop
.
"
He
was
sincerely
glad
to
see
me
.
"
It
's
been
a
rum
go
,
"
he
said
.
He
had
been
there
without
wages
for
a
month
,
a
man
forgotten
in
the
rush
of
events
.
"
I
just
stuck
on
and
did
what
I
could
with
the
stuff
.
I
got
a
bit
of
money
of
my
own-and
I
said
to
myself
,
'
Well
,
here
you
are
with
the
gear
and
no
one
to
look
after
you
.
You
wo
n't
get
such
a
chance
again
,
my
boy
,
not
in
all
your
born
days
.
Why
not
make
what
you
can
with
it
?
'
"
"
How
's
Lord
Roberts
B
?
"
Cothope
lifted
his
eyebrows
.
"
I
've
had
to
refrain
,
"
he
said
.
"
But
he
's
looking
very
handsome
.
"
"
Gods
!
"
I
said
,
"
I
'd
like
to
get
him
up
just
once
before
we
smash
.
You
read
the
papers
?
You
know
we
're
going
to
smash
?
"
"
Oh
!
I
read
the
papers
.
It
's
scandalous
,
sir
,
such
work
as
ours
should
depend
on
things
like
that
.
You
and
I
ought
to
be
under
the
State
,
sir
,
if
you
'll
excuse
me
.
"
"
Nothing
to
excuse
,
"
I
said
.
"
I
've
always
been
a
Socialist-of
a
sort-in
theory
.
Let
's
go
and
have
a
look
at
him
.
How
is
he
?
Deflated
?
"
"
Just
about
quarter
full
.
That
last
oil
glaze
of
yours
holds
the
gas
something
beautiful
.
He
's
not
lost
a
cubic
metre
a
week
.
"
...
Cothope
returned
to
Socialism
as
we
went
toward
the
sheds
.
"
Glad
to
think
you
're
a
Socialist
,
sir
,
"
he
said
,
"
it
's
the
only
civilised
state
.
I
been
a
Socialist
some
years-off
the
Clarion
.
It
's
a
rotten
scramble
,
this
world
.
It
takes
the
things
we
make
and
invent
and
it
plays
the
silly
fool
with
'
em
.
We
scientific
people
,
we
'll
have
to
take
things
over
and
stop
all
this
financing
and
advertisement
and
that
.
It
's
too
silly
.
It
's
a
noosance
.
Look
at
us
!
"
Lord
Roberts
B
,
even
in
his
partially
deflated
condition
in
his
shed
,
was
a
fine
thing
to
stare
up
at
.
I
stood
side
by
side
with
Cothope
regarding
him
,
and
it
was
borne
in
upon
me
more
acutely
than
ever
that
all
this
had
to
end
.
I
had
a
feeling
just
like
the
feeling
of
a
boy
who
wants
to
do
wrong
,
that
I
would
use
up
the
stuff
while
I
had
it
before
the
creditors
descended
.
I
had
a
queer
fancy
,
too
,
I
remember
,
that
if
I
could
get
into
the
air
it
would
advertise
my
return
to
Beatrice
.
"
We
'll
fill
her
,
"
I
said
concisely
.
"
It
's
all
ready
,
"
said
Cothope
,
and
added
as
an
afterthought
,
"
unless
they
cut
off
the
gas
.
"
...
I
worked
and
interested
myself
with
Cothope
all
the
morning
and
for
a
time
forgot
my
other
troubles
.
But
the
thought
of
Beatrice
flooded
me
slowly
and
steadily
.
It
became
an
unintelligent
sick
longing
to
see
her
.
I
felt
that
I
could
not
wait
for
the
filling
of
Lord
Roberts
B
,
that
I
must
hunt
her
up
and
see
her
soon
.
I
got
everything
forward
and
lunched
with
Cothope
,
and
then
with
the
feeblest
excuses
left
him
in
order
to
prowl
down
through
the
woods
towards
Bedley
Corner
.
I
became
a
prey
to
wretched
hesitations
and
diffidence
.
Ought
I
to
go
near
her
now
?
I
asked
myself
,
reviewing
all
the
social
abasements
of
my
early
years
.
At
last
,
about
five
,
I
called
at
the
Dower
House
.
I
was
greeted
by
their
Charlotte-with
a
forbidding
eye
and
a
cold
astonishment
.
Both
Beatrice
and
Lady
Osprey
were
out
.
There
came
into
my
head
some
prowling
dream
of
meeting
her
.
I
went
along
the
lane
towards
Woking
,
the
lane
down
which
we
had
walked
five
months
ago
in
the
wind
and
rain
.
I
mooned
for
a
time
in
our
former
footsteps
,
then
swore
and
turned
back
across
the
fields
,
and
then
conceived
a
distaste
for
Cothope
and
went
Downward
.
At
last
I
found
myself
looking
down
on
the
huge
abandoned
masses
of
the
Crest
Hill
house
.
That
gave
my
mind
a
twist
into
a
new
channel
.
My
uncle
came
uppermost
again
.
What
a
strange
,
melancholy
emptiness
of
intention
that
stricken
enterprise
seemed
in
the
even
evening
sunlight
,
what
vulgar
magnificence
and
crudity
and
utter
absurdity
!
It
was
as
idiotic
as
the
pyramids
.
I
sat
down
on
the
stile
,
staring
at
it
as
though
I
had
never
seen
that
forest
of
scaffold
poles
,
that
waste
of
walls
and
bricks
and
plaster
and
shaped
stones
,
that
wilderness
of
broken
soil
and
wheeling
tracks
and
dumps
before
.
It
struck
me
suddenly
as
the
compactest
image
and
sample
of
all
that
passes
for
Progress
,
of
all
the
advertisement-inflated
spending
,
the
aimless
building
up
and
pulling
down
,
the
enterprise
and
promise
of
my
age
.
This
was
our
fruit
,
this
was
what
he
had
done
,
I
and
my
uncle
,
in
the
fashion
of
our
time
.
We
were
its
leaders
and
exponents
,
we
were
the
thing
it
most
flourishingly
produced
.
For
this
futility
in
its
end
,
for
an
epoch
of
such
futility
,
the
solemn
scroll
of
history
had
unfolded
...
.
"
Great
God
!
"
I
cried
,
"
but
is
this
Life
?
"
For
this
the
armies
drilled
,
for
this
the
Law
was
administered
and
the
prisons
did
their
duty
,
for
this
the
millions
toiled
and
perished
in
suffering
,
in
order
that
a
few
of
us
should
build
palaces
we
never
finished
,
make
billiard-rooms
under
ponds
,
run
imbecile
walls
round
irrational
estates
,
scorch
about
the
world
in
motor-cars
,
devise
flying-machines
,
play
golf
and
a
dozen
such
foolish
games
of
ball
,
crowd
into
chattering
dinner
parties
,
gamble
and
make
our
lives
one
vast
,
dismal
spectacle
of
witless
waste
!
So
it
struck
me
then
,
and
for
a
time
I
could
think
of
no
other
interpretation
.
This
was
Life
!
It
came
to
me
like
a
revelation
,
a
revelation
at
once
incredible
and
indisputable
of
the
abysmal
folly
of
our
being
.
I
was
roused
from
such
thoughts
by
the
sound
of
footsteps
behind
me
.
I
turned
half
hopeful-so
foolish
is
a
lover
's
imagination
,
and
stopped
amazed
.
It
was
my
uncle
.
His
face
was
white-white
as
I
had
seen
it
in
my
dream
.
"
Hullo
!
"
I
said
,
and
stared
.
"
Why
are
n't
you
in
London
?
"
"
It
's
all
up
,
"
he
said
...
.
"
Adjudicated
?
"
"
No
!
"
I
stared
at
him
for
a
moment
,
and
then
got
off
the
stile
.
We
stood
swaying
and
then
came
forward
with
a
weak
motion
of
his
arms
like
a
man
who
cannot
see
distinctly
,
and
caught
at
and
leant
upon
the
stile
.
For
a
moment
we
were
absolutely
still
.
He
made
a
clumsy
gesture
towards
the
great
futility
below
and
choked
.
I
discovered
that
his
face
was
wet
with
tears
,
that
his
wet
glasses
blinded
him
.
He
put
up
his
little
fat
hand
and
clawed
them
off
clumsily
,
felt
inefficiently
for
his
pocket-handkerchief
,
and
then
,
to
my
horror
,
as
he
clung
to
me
,
he
began
to
weep
aloud
,
this
little
,
old
worldworn
swindler
.
It
was
n't
just
sobbing
or
shedding
tears
,
it
was
crying
as
a
child
cries
.
It
was
oh
!
terrible
!
"
It
's
cruel
,
"
he
blubbered
at
last
.
"
They
asked
me
questions
.
They
KEP
'
asking
me
questions
,
George
.
"
He
sought
for
utterance
,
and
spluttered
.
"
The
Bloody
bullies
!
"
he
shouted
.
"
The
Bloody
Bullies
.
"
He
ceased
to
weep
.
He
became
suddenly
rapid
and
explanatory
.
"
It
's
not
a
fair
game
,
George
.
They
tire
you
out
.
And
I
'm
not
well
.
My
stomach
's
all
wrong
.
And
I
been
and
got
a
cold
.
I
always
been
li'ble
to
cold
,
and
this
one
's
on
my
chest
.
And
then
they
tell
you
to
speak
up
.
They
bait
you-and
bait
you
,
and
bait
you
.
It
's
torture
.
The
strain
of
it
.
You
ca
n't
remember
what
you
said
.
You
're
bound
to
contradict
yourself
.
It
's
like
Russia
,
George
...
.
It
is
n't
fair
play
...
.
Prominent
man
.
I
've
been
next
at
dinners
with
that
chap
,
Neal
;
I
've
told
him
stories-and
he
's
bitter
!
Sets
out
to
ruin
me
.
Do
n't
ask
a
civil
question-bellows
.
"
He
broke
down
again
.
"
I
've
been
bellowed
at
,
I
been
bullied
,
I
been
treated
like
a
dog
.
Dirty
cads
they
are
!
Dirty
cads
!
I
'd
rather
be
a
Three-Card
Sharper
than
a
barrister
;
I
'd
rather
sell
cat's-meat
in
the
streets
.
"
They
sprung
things
on
me
this
morning
,
things
I
did
n't
expect
.
They
rushed
me
!
I
'd
got
it
all
in
my
hands
and
then
I
was
jumped
.
By
Neal
!
Neal
I
've
given
city
tips
to
!
Neal
!
I
've
helped
Neal
...
.
"
I
could
n't
swallow
a
mouthful-not
in
the
lunch
hour
.
I
could
n't
face
it
.
It
's
true
,
George-I
could
n't
face
it
.
I
said
I
'd
get
a
bit
of
air
and
slipped
out
and
down
to
the
Embankment
,
and
there
I
took
a
boat
to
Richmond
.
Some
idee
.
I
took
a
rowing
boat
when
I
got
there
and
I
rowed
about
on
the
river
for
a
bit
.
A
lot
of
chaps
and
girls
there
was
on
the
bank
laughed
at
my
shirt-sleeves
and
top
hat
.
Dessay
they
thought
it
was
a
pleasure
trip
.
Fat
lot
of
pleasure
!
I
rowed
round
for
a
bit
and
came
in
.
Then
I
came
on
here
.
Windsor
way
.
And
there
they
are
in
London
doing
what
they
like
with
me
...
.
I
do
n't
care
!
"
"
But
"
I
said
,
looking
down
at
him
,
perplexed
.
"
It
's
abscondin
'
.
They
'll
have
a
warrant
.
"
"
I
do
n't
understand
,
"
I
said
.
"
It
's
all
up
,
George-all
up
and
over
.
"
And
I
thought
I
'd
live
in
that
place
,
George
and
die
a
lord
!
It
's
a
great
place
,
reely
,
an
imperial-if
anyone
has
the
sense
to
buy
it
and
finish
it
.
That
terrace-
"
I
stood
thinking
him
over
.
"
Look
here
!
"
I
said
.
"
What
's
that
about-a
warrant
?
Are
you
sure
they
'll
get
a
warrant
?
I
'm
sorry
uncle
;
but
what
have
you
done
?
"
"
Have
n't
I
told
you
?
"
"
Yes
,
but
they
wo
n't
do
very
much
to
you
for
that
.
They
'll
only
bring
you
up
for
the
rest
of
your
examination
.
"
He
remained
silent
for
a
time
.
At
last
he
spoke-speaking
with
difficulty
.
"
It
's
worse
than
that
.
I
've
done
something
.
They
're
bound
to
get
it
out
.
Practically
they
HAVE
got
it
out
.
"
"
What
?
"
"
Writin
'
things
down-I
done
something
.
"
For
the
first
time
in
his
life
,
I
believe
,
he
felt
and
looked
ashamed
.
It
filled
me
with
remorse
to
see
him
suffer
so
.
"
We
've
all
done
things
,
"
I
said
.
"
It
's
part
of
the
game
the
world
makes
us
play
.
If
they
want
to
arrest
you-and
you
've
got
no
cards
in
your
hand-
!
They
must
n't
arrest
you
.
"
"
No.
That
's
partly
why
I
went
to
Richmond
.
But
I
never
thought-
"
His
little
bloodshot
eyes
stared
at
Crest
Hill
.
"
That
chap
Wittaker
Wright
,
"
he
said
,
"
he
had
his
stuff
ready
.
I
have
n't
.
Now
you
got
it
,
George
.
That
's
the
sort
of
hole
I
'm
in
.
"
That
memory
of
my
uncle
at
the
gate
is
very
clear
and
full
.
I
am
able
to
recall
even
the
undertow
of
my
thoughts
while
he
was
speaking
.
I
remember
my
pity
and
affection
for
him
in
his
misery
growing
and
stirring
within
me
,
my
realisation
that
at
any
risk
I
must
help
him
.
But
then
comes
indistinctness
again
.
I
was
beginning
to
act
.
I
know
I
persuaded
him
to
put
himself
in
my
hands
,
and
began
at
once
to
plan
and
do
.
I
think
that
when
we
act
most
we
remember
least
,
that
just
in
the
measure
that
the
impulse
of
our
impressions
translates
itself
into
schemes
and
movements
,
it
ceases
to
record
itself
in
memories
.
I
know
I
resolved
to
get
him
away
at
once
,
and
to
use
the
Lord
Roberts
B
in
effecting
that
.
It
was
clear
he
was
soon
to
be
a
hunted
man
,
and
it
seemed
to
me
already
unsafe
for
him
to
try
the
ordinary
Continental
routes
in
his
flight
.
I
had
to
evolve
some
scheme
,
and
evolve
it
rapidly
,
how
we
might
drop
most
inconspicuously
into
the
world
across
the
water
.
My
resolve
to
have
one
flight
at
least
in
my
airship
fitted
with
this
like
hand
to
glove
.
It
seemed
to
me
we
might
be
able
to
cross
over
the
water
in
the
night
,
set
our
airship
adrift
,
and
turn
up
as
pedestrian
tourists
in
Normandy
or
Brittany
,
and
so
get
away
.
That
,
at
any
rate
,
was
my
ruling
idea
.
I
sent
off
Cothope
with
a
dummy
note
to
Woking
,
because
I
did
not
want
to
implicate
him
,
and
took
my
uncle
to
the
pavilion
.
I
went
down
to
my
aunt
,
and
made
a
clean
breast
of
the
situation
.
She
became
admirably
competent
.
We
went
into
his
dressing-room
and
ruthlessly
broke
his
locks
.
I
got
a
pair
of
brown
boots
,
a
tweed
suit
and
a
cap
of
his
,
and
indeed
a
plausible
walking
outfit
,
and
a
little
game
bag
for
his
pedestrian
gear
;
and
,
in
addition
,
a
big
motoring
overcoat
and
a
supply
of
rugs
to
add
to
those
I
had
at
the
pavilion
.
I
also
got
a
flask
of
brandy
,
and
she
made
sandwiches
.
I
do
n't
remember
any
servants
appearing
,
and
I
forget
where
she
got
those
sandwiches
.
Meanwhile
we
talked
.
Afterwards
I
thought
with
what
a
sure
confidence
we
talked
to
each
other
.
"
What
's
he
done
?
"
she
said
.
"
D'you
mind
knowing
?
"
"
No
conscience
left
,
thank
God
!
"
"
I
think-forgery
!
"
There
was
just
a
little
pause
.
"
Can
you
carry
this
bundle
?
"
she
asked
.
I
lifted
it
.
"
No
woman
ever
has
respected
the
law-ever
,
"
she
said
.
"
It
's
too
silly
...
.
The
things
it
lets
you
do
!
And
then
pulls
you
up-like
a
mad
nurse
minding
a
child
.
"
She
carried
some
rugs
for
me
through
the
shrubbery
in
the
darkling
.
"
They
'll
think
we
're
going
mooning
,
"
she
said
,
jerking
her
head
at
the
household
.
"
I
wonder
what
they
make
of
us-criminals
.
"
...
An
immense
droning
note
came
as
if
in
answer
to
that
.
It
startled
us
both
for
a
moment
.
"
The
dears
!
"
she
said
.
"
It
's
the
gong
for
dinner
!
...
But
I
wish
I
could
help
little
Teddy
,
George
.
It
's
awful
to
think
of
him
there
with
hot
eyes
,
red
and
dry
.
And
I
know-the
sight
of
me
makes
him
feel
sore
.
Things
I
said
,
George
.
If
I
could
have
seen
,
I
'd
have
let
him
have
an
omnibusful
of
Scrymgeours
.
I
cut
him
up
.
He
'd
never
thought
I
meant
it
before
...
.
I
'll
help
all
I
can
,
anyhow
.
"
I
turned
at
something
in
her
voice
,
and
got
a
moon
light
gleam
of
tears
upon
her
face
.
"
Could
SHE
have
helped
?
"
she
asked
abruptly
.
"
SHE
?
"
"
That
woman
.
"
"
My
God
!
"
I
cried
,
"
HELPED
!
Those-things
do
n't
help
!
"
"
Tell
me
again
what
I
ought
to
do
,
"
she
said
after
a
silence
.
I
went
over
the
plans
I
had
made
for
communicating
,
and
the
things
I
thought
she
might
do
.
I
had
given
her
the
address
of
a
solicitor
she
might
put
some
trust
in
.
"
But
you
must
act
for
yourself
,
"
I
insisted
.
"
Roughly
,
"
I
said
,
"
it
's
a
scramble
.
You
must
get
what
you
can
for
us
,
and
follow
as
you
can
.
"
She
nodded
.
She
came
right
up
to
the
pavilion
and
hovered
for
a
time
shyly
,
and
then
went
away
.
I
found
my
uncle
in
my
sitting-room
in
an
arm-chair
,
with
his
feet
upon
the
fender
of
the
gas
stove
,
which
he
had
lit
,
and
now
he
was
feebly
drunken
with
my
whisky
,
and
very
weary
in
body
and
spirit
,
and
inclined
to
be
cowardly
.
"
I
lef
'
my
drops
,
"
he
said
.
He
changed
his
clothes
slowly
and
unwillingly
.
I
had
to
bully
him
,
I
had
almost
to
shove
him
to
the
airship
and
tuck
him
up
upon
its
wicker
flat
.
Single-handed
I
made
but
a
clumsy
start
;
we
scraped
along
the
roof
of
the
shed
and
bent
a
van
of
the
propeller
,
and
for
a
time
I
hung
underneath
without
his
offering
a
hand
to
help
me
to
clamber
up
.
If
it
had
n't
been
for
a
sort
of
anchoring
trolley
device
of
Cothope
's
,
a
sort
of
slip
anchor
running
on
a
rail
,
we
should
never
have
got
clear
at
all
.
The
incidents
of
our
flight
in
Lord
Roberts
B
do
not
arrange
themselves
in
any
consecutive
order
.
To
think
of
that
adventure
is
like
dipping
haphazard
into
an
album
of
views
.
One
is
reminded
first
of
this
and
then
of
that
.
We
were
both
lying
down
on
a
horizontal
plate
of
basketwork
;
for
Lord
Roberts
B
had
none
of
the
elegant
accommodation
of
a
balloon
.
I
lay
forward
,
and
my
uncle
behind
me
in
such
a
position
that
he
could
see
hardly
anything
of
our
flight
.
We
were
protected
from
rolling
over
simply
by
netting
between
the
steel
stays
.
It
was
impossible
for
us
to
stand
up
at
all
;
we
had
either
to
lie
or
crawl
on
all
fours
over
the
basket
work
.
Amidships
were
lockers
made
of
Watson
's
Aulite
material
,
-and
between
these
it
was
that
I
had
put
my
uncle
,
wrapped
in
rugs
.
I
wore
sealskin
motoring
boots
and
gloves
,
and
a
motoring
fur
coat
over
my
tweeds
,
and
I
controlled
the
engine
by
Bowden
wires
and
levers
forward
.
The
early
part
of
that
night
's
experience
was
made
up
of
warmth
,
of
moonlit
Surrey
and
Sussex
landscape
,
and
of
a
rapid
and
successful
flight
,
ascending
and
swooping
,
and
then
ascending
again
southward
.
I
could
not
watch
the
clouds
because
the
airship
overhung
me
;
I
could
not
see
the
stars
nor
gauge
the
meteorological
happening
,
but
it
was
fairly
clear
to
me
that
a
wind
shifting
between
north
and
northeast
was
gathering
strength
,
and
after
I
had
satisfied
myself
by
a
series
of
entirely
successful
expansions
and
contractions
of
the
real
air-worthiness
of
Lord
Roberts
B
,
I
stopped
the
engine
to
save
my
petrol
,
and
let
the
monster
drift
,
checking
its
progress
by
the
dim
landscape
below
.
My
uncle
lay
quite
still
behind
me
,
saying
little
and
staring
in
front
of
him
,
and
I
was
left
to
my
own
thoughts
and
sensations
.
My
thoughts
,
whatever
they
were
,
have
long
since
faded
out
of
memory
,
and
my
sensations
have
merged
into
one
continuous
memory
of
an
countryside
lying
,
as
it
seemed
,
under
snow
,
with
square
patches
of
dimness
,
white
phantoms
of
roads
,
rents
and
pools
of
velvety
blackness
,
and
lamp-jewelled
houses
.
I
remember
a
train
boring
its
way
like
a
hastening
caterpillar
of
fire
across
the
landscape
,
and
how
distinctly
I
heard
its
clatter
.
Every
town
and
street
was
buttoned
with
street
lamps
.
I
came
quite
close
to
the
South
Downs
near
Lewes
,
and
all
the
lights
were
out
in
the
houses
,
and
the
people
gone
to
bed
.
We
left
the
land
a
little
to
the
east
of
Brighton
,
and
by
that
time
Brighton
was
well
abed
.
and
the
brightly
lit
sea-front
deserted
.
Then
I
let
out
the
gas
chamber
to
its
fullest
extent
and
rose
.
I
like
to
be
high
above
water
.
I
do
not
clearly
know
what
happened
in
the
night
.
I
think
I
must
have
dozed
,
and
probably
my
uncle
slept
.
I
remember
that
once
or
twice
I
heard
him
talking
in
an
eager
,
muffled
voice
to
himself
,
or
to
an
imaginary
court
.
But
there
can
be
no
doubt
the
wind
changed
right
round
into
the
east
,
and
that
we
were
carried
far
down
the
Channel
without
any
suspicion
of
the
immense
leeway
we
were
making
.
I
remember
the
kind
of
stupid
perplexity
with
which
I
saw
the
dawn
breaking
over
a
grey
waste
of
water
,
below
,
and
realised
that
something
was
wrong
.
I
was
so
stupid
that
it
was
only
after
the
sunrise
I
really
noticed
the
trend
of
the
foam
caps
below
,
and
perceived
we
were
in
a
severe
easterly
gale
.
Even
then
,
instead
of
heading
southeasterly
,
I
set
the
engine
going
,
headed
south
,
and
so
continued
a
course
that
must
needs
have
either
just
hit
Ushant
,
or
carry
us
over
the
Bay
of
Biscay
.
I
thought
I
was
east
of
Cherbourg
,
when
I
was
far
to
the
west
and
stopped
my
engine
in
that
belief
,
and
then
set
it
going
again
.
I
did
actually
sight
the
coast
of
Brittany
to
the
southeast
in
the
late
afternoon
,
and
that
it
was
woke
me
up
to
the
gravity
of
our
position
.
I
discovered
it
by
accident
in
the
southeast
,
when
I
was
looking
for
it
in
the
southwest
.
I
turned
about
east
and
faced
the
wind
for
some
time
,
and
finding
I
had
no
chance
in
its
teeth
,
went
high
,
where
it
seemed
less
violent
,
and
tried
to
make
a
course
southeast
.
It
was
only
then
that
I
realised
what
a
gale
I
was
in
.
I
had
been
going
westward
,
and
perhaps
even
in
gusts
north
of
west
,
at
a
pace
of
fifty
or
sixty
miles
an
hour
.
Then
I
began
what
I
suppose
would
be
called
a
Fight
against
the
east
wind
.
One
calls
it
a
Fight
,
but
it
was
really
almost
as
unlike
a
fight
as
plain
sewing
.
The
wind
tried
to
drive
me
westwardly
,
and
I
tried
to
get
as
much
as
I
could
eastwardly
,
with
the
wind
beating
and
rocking
us
irregularly
,
but
by
no
means
unbearably
,
for
about
twelve
hours
.
My
hope
lay
in
the
wind
abating
,
and
our
keeping
in
the
air
and
eastward
of
Finisterre
until
it
did
,
and
the
chief
danger
was
the
exhaustion
of
our
petrol
.
It
was
a
long
and
anxious
and
almost
meditative
time
;
we
were
fairly
warm
,
and
only
slowly
getting
hungry
,
and
except
that
my
uncle
grumbled
a
little
and
produced
some
philosophical
reflections
,
and
began
to
fuss
about
having
a
temperature
,
we
talked
very
little
.
I
was
tired
and
sulky
,
and
chiefly
worried
about
the
engine
.
I
had
to
resist
a
tendency
to
crawl
back
and
look
at
it
.
I
did
not
care
to
risk
contracting
our
gas
chamber
for
fear
of
losing
gas
.
Nothing
was
less
like
a
fight
.
I
know
that
in
popular
magazines
,
and
so
forth
,
all
such
occasions
as
this
are
depicted
in
terms
of
hysteria
.
Captains
save
their
ships
engineers
complete
their
bridges
,
generals
conduct
their
battles
,
in
a
state
of
dancing
excitement
,
foaming
recondite
technicalities
at
the
lips
.
I
suppose
that
sort
of
thing
works
up
the
reader
,
but
so
far
as
it
professes
to
represent
reality
,
I
am
convinced
it
is
all
childish
nonsense
,
schoolboys
of
fifteen
,
girls
of
eighteen
,
and
literary
men
all
their
lives
,
may
have
these
squealing
fits
,
but
my
own
experience
is
that
most
exciting
scenes
are
not
exciting
,
and
most
of
the
urgent
moments
in
life
are
met
by
steady-headed
men
.
Neither
I
nor
my
uncle
spent
the
night
in
ejaculations
,
nor
in
humorous
allusions
,
nor
any
of
these
things
.
We
remained
lumpish
.
My
uncle
stuck
in
his
place
and
grumbled
about
his
stomach
,
and
occasionally
rambled
off
into
expositions
of
his
financial
position
and
denunciations
of
Neal-he
certainly
struck
out
one
or
two
good
phrases
for
Neal-and
I
crawled
about
at
rare
intervals
in
a
vague
sort
of
way
and
grunted
,
and
our
basketwork
creaked
continually
,
and
the
wind
on
our
quarter
made
a
sort
of
ruffled
flapping
in
the
wall
of
the
gas
chamber
.
For
all
our
wraps
we
got
frightfully
cold
as
the
night
wore
on
.
I
must
have
dozed
,
and
it
was
still
dark
when
I
realised
with
a
start
that
we
were
nearly
due
south
of
,
and
a
long
way
from
,
a
regularly-flashing
lighthouse
,
standing
out
before
the
glow
of
some
great
town
,
and
then
that
the
thing
that
had
awakened
me
was
the
cessation
of
our
engine
,
and
that
we
were
driving
back
to
the
west
.
Then
,
indeed
,
for
a
time
I
felt
the
grim
thrill
of
life
.
I
crawled
forward
to
the
cords
of
the
release
valves
,
made
my
uncle
crawl
forward
too
,
and
let
out
the
gas
until
we
were
falling
down
through
the
air
like
a
clumsy
glider
towards
the
vague
greyness
that
was
land
.
Something
must
have
intervened
here
that
I
have
forgotten
.
I
saw
the
lights
of
Bordeaux
when
it
was
quite
dark
,
a
nebulous
haze
against
black
;
of
that
I
am
reasonably
sure
.
But
certainly
our
fall
took
place
in
the
cold
,
uncertain
light
of
early
dawn
.
I
am
,
at
least
,
equally
sure
of
that
.
And
Mimizan
,
near
where
we
dropped
,
is
fifty
miles
from
Bordeaux
,
whose
harbour
lights
I
must
have
seen
.
I
remember
coming
down
at
last
with
a
curious
indifference
,
and
actually
rousing
myself
to
steer
.
But
the
actual
coming
to
earth
was
exciting
enough
.
I
remember
our
prolonged
dragging
landfall
,
and
the
difficulty
I
had
to
get
clear
,
and
how
a
gust
of
wind
caught
Lord
Roberts
B
as
my
uncle
stumbled
away
from
the
ropes
and
litter
,
and
dropped
me
heavily
,
and
threw
me
on
to
my
knees
.
Then
came
the
realisation
that
the
monster
was
almost
consciously
disentangling
itself
for
escape
,
and
then
the
light
leap
of
its
rebound
.
The
rope
slipped
out
of
reach
of
my
hand
.
I
remember
running
knee-deep
in
a
salt
pool
in
hopeless
pursuit
of
the
airship
.
As
it
dragged
and
rose
seaward
,
and
how
only
after
it
had
escaped
my
uttermost
effort
to
recapture
it
,
did
I
realise
that
this
was
quite
the
best
thing
that
could
have
happened
.
It
drove
swiftly
over
the
sandy
dunes
,
lifting
and
falling
,
and
was
hidden
by
a
clump
of
windbitten
trees
.
Then
it
reappeared
much
further
off
,
and
still
receding
.
It
soared
for
a
time
,
and
sank
slowly
,
and
after
that
I
saw
it
no
more
.
I
suppose
it
fell
into
the
sea
and
got
wetted
with
salt
water
and
heavy
,
and
so
became
deflated
and
sank
.
It
was
never
found
,
and
there
was
never
a
report
of
anyone
seeing
it
after
it
escaped
from
me
.
But
if
I
find
it
hard
to
tell
the
story
of
our
long
flight
through
the
air
overseas
,
at
least
that
dawn
in
France
stands
cold
and
clear
and
full
.
I
see
again
almost
as
if
I
saw
once
more
with
my
bodily
eyes
the
ridges
of
sand
rising
behind
ridges
of
sand
,
grey
and
cold
and
black-browed
,
with
an
insufficient
grass
.
I
feel
again
the
clear
,
cold
chill
of
dawn
,
and
hear
the
distant
barking
of
a
dog
.
I
find
myself
asking
again
,
"
What
shall
we
do
now
?
"
and
trying
to
scheme
with
brain
tired
beyond
measure
.
At
first
my
uncle
occupied
my
attention
.
He
was
shivering
a
good
deal
,
and
it
was
all
I
could
do
to
resist
my
desire
to
get
him
into
a
comfortable
bed
at
once
.
But
I
wanted
to
appear
plausibly
in
this
part
of
the
world
.
I
felt
it
would
not
do
to
turn
up
anywhere
at
dawn
and
rest
,
it
would
be
altogether
too
conspicuous
;
we
must
rest
until
the
day
was
well
advanced
,
and
then
appear
as
road-stained
pedestrians
seeking
a
meal
.
I
gave
him
most
of
what
was
left
of
the
biscuits
,
emptied
our
flasks
,
and
advised
him
to
sleep
,
but
at
first
it
was
too
cold
,
albeit
I
wrapped
the
big
fur
rug
around
him
.
I
was
struck
now
by
the
flushed
weariness
of
his
face
,
and
the
look
of
age
the
grey
stubble
on
his
unshaved
chin
gave
him
.
He
sat
crumpled
up
,
shivering
and
coughing
,
munching
reluctantly
,
but
drinking
eagerly
,
and
whimpering
a
little
,
a
dreadfully
pitiful
figure
to
me
.
But
we
had
to
go
through
with
it
;
there
was
no
way
out
for
us
.
Presently
the
sun
rose
over
the
pines
,
and
the
sand
grew
rapidly
warm
.
My
uncle
had
done
eating
,
and
sat
with
his
wrists
resting
on
his
knees
,
the
most
hopeless
looking
of
lost
souls
.
"
I
'm
ill
,
"
he
said
,
"
I
'm
damnably
ill
!
I
can
feel
it
in
my
skin
!
"
Then-it
was
horrible
to
me-he
cried
,
"
I
ought
to
be
in
bed
;
I
ought
to
be
in
bed
...
instead
of
flying
about
,
"
and
suddenly
he
burst
into
tears
.
I
stood
up
.
"
Go
to
sleep
,
man
!
"
I
said
,
and
took
the
rug
from
him
,
and
spread
it
out
and
rolled
him
up
in
it
.
"
It
's
all
very
well
,
"
he
protested
;
"
I
'm
not
young
enough-
"
"
Lift
up
your
head
,
"
I
interrupted
,
and
put
his
knapsack
under
it
.
"
They
'll
catch
us
here
,
just
as
much
as
in
an
inn
,
"
he
grumbled
and
then
lay
still
.
Presently
,
after
a
long
time
,
I
perceived
he
was
asleep
.
His
breath
came
with
peculiar
wheezings
,
and
every
now
and
again
he
would
cough
.
I
was
very
stiff
and
tired
myself
,
and
perhaps
I
dozed
.
I
do
n't
remember
.
I
remember
only
sitting
,
as
it
seemed
,
nigh
interminably
,
beside
him
,
too
weary
even
to
think
in
that
sandy
desolation
.
No
one
came
near
us
;
no
creature
,
not
even
a
dog
.
I
roused
myself
at
last
,
feeling
that
it
was
vain
to
seek
to
seem
other
than
abnormal
,
and
with
an
effort
that
was
like
lifting
a
sky
of
lead
,
we
made
our
way
through
the
wearisome
sand
to
a
farmhouse
.
There
I
feigned
even
a
more
insufficient
French
than
I
possess
naturally
,
and
let
it
appear
that
we
were
pedestrians
from
Biarritz
who
had
lost
our
way
along
the
shore
and
got
benighted
.
This
explained
us
pretty
well
,
I
thought
,
and
we
got
most
heartening
coffee
and
a
cart
to
a
little
roadside
station
.
My
uncle
grew
more
and
more
manifestly
ill
with
every
stage
of
our
journey
.
I
got
him
to
Bayonne
,
where
he
refused
at
first
to
eat
,
and
was
afterwards
very
sick
,
and
then
took
him
shivering
and
collapsed
up
a
little
branch
line
to
a
frontier
place
called
Luzon
Gare
.
We
found
one
homely
inn
with
two
small
bedrooms
,
kept
by
a
kindly
Basque
woman
.
I
got
him
to
bed
,
and
that
night
shared
his
room
,
and
after
an
hour
or
so
of
sleep
he
woke
up
in
a
raging
fever
and
with
a
wandering
mind
,
cursing
Neal
and
repeating
long
,
inaccurate
lists
of
figures
.
He
was
manifestly
a
case
for
a
doctor
,
and
in
the
morning
we
got
one
in
.
He
was
a
young
man
from
Montpelier
,
just
beginning
to
practise
,
and
very
mysterious
and
technical
and
modern
and
unhelpful
.
He
spoke
of
cold
and
exposure
,
and
la
grippe
and
pneumonia
.
He
gave
many
explicit
and
difficult
directions
...
.
I
perceived
it
devolved
upon
me
to
organise
nursing
and
a
sick-room
.
I
installed
a
religieuse
in
the
second
bedroom
of
the
inn
,
and
took
a
room
for
myself
in
the
inn
of
Port
de
Luzon
,
a
quarter
of
a
mile
away
.
And
now
my
story
converges
on
what
,
in
that
queer
corner
of
refuge
out
of
the
world
,
was
destined
to
be
my
uncle
's
deathbed
.
There
is
a
background
of
the
Pyrenees
,
of
blue
hills
and
sunlit
houses
,
of
the
old
castle
of
Luzon
and
a
noisy
cascading
river
,
and
for
a
foreground
the
dim
,
stuffy
room
whose
windows
both
the
religieuse
and
hostess
conspired
to
shut
,
with
its
waxed
floor
,
its
four-poster
bed
,
its
characteristically
French
chairs
and
fireplace
,
its
champagne
bottles
and
dirty
basins
and
used
towels
and
packets
of
Somatose
on
the
table
.
And
in
the
sickly
air
of
the
confined
space
in
behind
the
curtains
of
the
bed
lay
my
little
uncle
,
with
an
effect
of
being
enthroned
and
secluded
,
or
sat
up
,
or
writhed
and
tossed
in
his
last
dealings
of
life
.
One
went
and
drew
back
the
edge
of
the
curtains
if
one
wanted
to
speak
to
him
or
look
at
him
.
Usually
he
was
propped
up
against
pillows
,
because
so
he
breathed
more
easily
.
He
slept
hardly
at
all
.
I
have
a
confused
memory
of
vigils
and
mornings
and
afternoons
spent
by
that
bedside
,
and
how
the
religieuse
hovered
about
me
,
and
how
meek
and
good
and
inefficient
she
was
,
and
how
horribly
black
were
her
nails
.
Other
figures
come
and
go
,
and
particularly
the
doctor
,
a
young
man
plumply
rococo
,
in
bicycling
dress
,
with
fine
waxen
features
,
a
little
pointed
beard
,
and
the
long
black
frizzy
hair
and
huge
tie
of
a
minor
poet
.
Bright
and
clear-cut
and
irrelevant
are
memories
of
the
Basque
hostess
of
my
uncle
's
inn
and
of
the
family
of
Spanish
people
who
entertained
me
and
prepared
the
most
amazingly
elaborate
meals
for
me
,
with
soup
and
salad
and
chicken
and
remarkable
sweets
.
They
were
all
very
kind
and
sympathetic
people
,
systematically
so
.
And
constantly
,
without
attracting
attention
,
I
was
trying
to
get
newspapers
from
home
.
My
uncle
is
central
to
all
these
impressions
.
I
have
tried
to
make
you
picture
him
,
time
after
time
,
as
the
young
man
of
the
Wimblehurst
chemist
's
shop
,
as
the
shabby
assistant
in
Tottenham
Court
Road
,
as
the
adventurer
of
the
early
days
of
Tono-Bungay
,
as
the
confident
,
preposterous
plutocrat
.
And
now
I
have
to
tell
of
him
strangely
changed
under
the
shadow
of
oncoming
death
,
with
his
skin
lax
and
yellow
and
glistening
with
sweat
,
his
eyes
large
and
glassy
,
his
countenance
unfamiliar
through
the
growth
of
a
beard
,
his
nose
pinched
and
thin
.
Never
had
he
looked
so
small
as
now
.
And
he
talked
to
me
in
a
whispering
,
strained
voice
of
great
issues
,
of
why
his
life
had
been
,
and
whither
he
was
going
.
Poor
little
man
!
that
last
phase
is
,
as
it
were
,
disconnected
from
all
the
other
phases
.
It
was
as
if
he
crawled
out
from
the
ruins
of
his
career
,
and
looked
about
him
before
he
died
.
For
he
had
quite
clear-minded
states
in
the
intervals
of
his
delirium
.
He
knew
he
was
almost
certainly
dying
.
In
a
way
that
took
the
burthen
of
his
cares
off
his
mind
.
There
was
no
more
Neal
to
face
,
no
more
flights
or
evasions
,
no
punishments
.
"
It
has
been
a
great
career
,
George
,
"
he
said
,
"
but
I
shall
be
glad
to
rest
.
Glad
to
rest
!
...
Glad
to
rest
.
"
His
mind
ran
rather
upon
his
career
,
and
usually
,
I
am
glad
to
recall
,
with
a
note
of
satisfaction
and
approval
.
In
his
delirious
phases
he
would
most
often
exaggerate
this
self-satisfaction
,
and
talk
of
his
splendours
.
He
would
pluck
at
the
sheet
and
stare
before
him
,
and
whisper
half-audible
fragments
of
sentences
.
"
What
is
this
great
place
,
these
cloud-capped
towers
,
these
any
pinnacles
?
...
Ilion
.
Sky-pointing
...
.
Ilion
House
,
the
residence
of
one
of
our
great
merchant
princes
...
.
Terrace
above
terrace
.
Reaching
to
the
heavens
...
.
Kingdoms
Caesar
never
knew
...
.
A
great
poet
,
George
.
Zzzz
.
Kingdoms
Caesar
never
knew
...
.
Under
entirely
new
management
.
"
Greatness
...
.Millions
...
Universities
...
.
He
stands
on
the
terrace-on
the
upper
terrace-directing-directing-by
the
globe-directing-the
trade
.
"
It
was
hard
at
times
to
tell
when
his
sane
talk
ceased
and
his
delirium
began
.
The
secret
springs
of
his
life
,
the
vain
imaginations
were
revealed
.
I
sometimes
think
that
all
the
life
of
man
sprawls
abed
,
careless
and
unkempt
,
until
it
must
needs
clothe
and
wash
itself
and
come
forth
seemly
in
act
and
speech
for
the
encounter
with
one
's
fellow-men
.
I
suspect
that
all
things
unspoken
in
our
souls
partake
somewhat
of
the
laxity
of
delirium
and
dementia
.
Certainly
from
those
slimy
,
tormented
lips
above
the
bristling
grey
beard
came
nothing
but
dreams
and
disconnected
fancies
...
.
Sometimes
he
raved
about
Neal
,
threatened
Neal
.
"
What
has
he
got
invested
?
"
he
said
.
"
Does
he
think
he
can
escape
me
?
...
If
I
followed
him
up
...
.
Ruin
.
Ruin
...
.
One
would
think
I
had
taken
his
money
.
"
And
sometimes
he
reverted
to
our
airship
flight
.
"
It
's
too
long
,
George
,
too
long
and
too
cold
.
I
'm
too
old
a
man-too
old-for
this
sort
of
thing
...
.
You
know
you
're
not
saving-you
're
killing
me
.
"
Towards
the
end
it
became
evident
our
identity
was
discovered
.
I
found
the
press
,
and
especially
Boom
's
section
of
it
,
had
made
a
sort
of
hue
and
cry
for
us
,
sent
special
commissioners
to
hunt
for
us
,
and
though
none
of
these
emissaries
reached
us
until
my
uncle
was
dead
,
one
felt
the
forewash
of
that
storm
of
energy
.
The
thing
got
into
the
popular
French
press
.
People
became
curious
in
their
manner
towards
us
,
and
a
number
of
fresh
faces
appeared
about
the
weak
little
struggle
that
went
on
in
the
closeness
behind
the
curtains
of
the
bed
.
The
young
doctor
insisted
on
consultations
,
and
a
motor-car
came
up
from
Biarritz
,
and
suddenly
odd
people
with
questioning
eyes
began
to
poke
in
with
inquiries
and
help
.
Though
nothing
was
said
,
I
could
feel
that
we
were
no
longer
regarded
as
simple
middle-class
tourists
;
about
me
,
as
I
went
,
I
perceived
almost
as
though
it
trailed
visibly
,
the
prestige
of
Finance
and
a
criminal
notoriety
.
Local
personages
of
a
plump
and
prosperous
quality
appeared
in
the
inn
making
inquiries
,
the
Luzon
priest
became
helpful
,
people
watched
our
window
,
and
stared
at
me
as
I
went
to
and
fro
;
and
then
we
had
a
raid
from
a
little
English
clergyman
and
his
amiable
,
capable
wife
in
severely
Anglican
blacks
,
who
swooped
down
upon
us
like
virtuous
but
resolute
vultures
from
the
adjacent
village
of
Saint
Jean
de
Pollack
.
The
clergyman
was
one
of
those
odd
types
that
oscillate
between
remote
country
towns
in
England
and
the
conduct
of
English
Church
services
on
mutual
terms
in
enterprising
hotels
abroad
,
a
tremulous
,
obstinate
little
being
with
sporadic
hairs
upon
his
face
,
spectacles
,
a
red
button
nose
,
and
aged
black
raiment
.
He
was
evidently
enormously
impressed
by
my
uncle
's
monetary
greatness
,
and
by
his
own
inkling
of
our
identity
,
and
he
shone
and
brimmed
over
with
tact
and
fussy
helpfulness
.
He
was
eager
to
share
the
watching
of
the
bedside
with
me
,
he
proffered
services
with
both
hands
,
and
as
I
was
now
getting
into
touch
with
affairs
in
London
again
,
and
trying
to
disentangle
the
gigantic
details
of
the
smash
from
the
papers
I
had
succeeded
in
getting
from
Biarritz
,
I
accepted
his
offers
pretty
generously
,
and
began
the
studies
in
modern
finance
that
lay
before
me
.
I
had
got
so
out
of
touch
with
the
old
traditions
of
religion
that
I
overlooked
the
manifest
possibility
of
his
attacking
my
poor
,
sinking
vestiges
of
an
uncle
with
theological
solicitudes
.
My
attention
was
called
to
that
,
however
,
very
speedily
by
a
polite
but
urgent
quarrel
between
himself
and
the
Basque
landlady
as
to
the
necessity
of
her
hanging
a
cheap
crucifix
in
the
shadow
over
the
bed
,
where
it
might
catch
my
uncle
's
eye
,
where
,
indeed
,
I
found
it
had
caught
his
eye
.
"
Good
Lord
!
"
I
cried
;
"
is
THAT
still
going
on
!
"
That
night
the
little
clergyman
watched
,
and
in
the
small
hours
he
raised
a
false
alarm
that
my
uncle
was
dying
,
and
made
an
extraordinary
fuss
.
He
raised
the
house
.
I
shall
never
forget
that
scene
,
I
think
,
which
began
with
a
tapping
at
my
bedroom
door
just
after
I
had
fallen
asleep
,
and
his
voice-
"
If
you
want
to
see
your
uncle
before
he
goes
,
you
must
come
now
.
"
The
stuffy
little
room
was
crowded
when
I
reached
it
,
and
lit
by
three
flickering
candles
.
I
felt
I
was
back
in
the
eighteenth
century
.
There
lay
my
poor
uncle
amidst
indescribably
tumbled
bedclothes
,
weary
of
life
beyond
measure
,
weary
and
rambling
,
and
the
little
clergyman
trying
to
hold
his
hand
and
his
attention
,
and
repeating
over
and
over
again
:
"
Mr.
Ponderevo
,
Mr.
Ponderevo
,
it
is
all
right
.
It
is
all
right
.
"
Only
Believe
!
'
Believe
on
me
,
and
ye
shall
be
saved
'
!
"
Close
at
hand
was
the
doctor
with
one
of
those
cruel
and
idiotic
injection
needles
modern
science
puts
in
the
hands
of
these
half-educated
young
men
,
keeping
my
uncle
flickeringly
alive
for
no
reason
whatever
.
The
religieuse
hovered
sleepily
in
the
background
with
an
overdue
and
neglected
dose
.
In
addition
,
the
landlady
had
not
only
got
up
herself
,
but
roused
an
aged
crone
of
a
mother
and
a
partially
imbecile
husband
,
and
there
was
also
a
fattish
,
stolid
man
in
grey
alpaca
,
with
an
air
of
importance-who
he
was
and
how
he
got
there
,
I
do
n't
know
.
I
rather
fancy
the
doctor
explained
him
to
me
in
French
I
did
not
understand
.
And
they
were
all
there
,
wearily
nocturnal
,
hastily
and
carelessly
dressed
,
intent
upon
the
life
that
flickered
and
sank
,
making
a
public
and
curious
show
of
its
going
,
queer
shapes
of
human
beings
lit
by
three
uncertain
candles
,
and
every
soul
of
them
keenly
and
avidly
resolved
to
be
in
at
the
death
.
The
doctor
stood
,
the
others
were
all
sitting
on
chairs
the
landlady
had
brought
in
and
arranged
for
them
.
And
my
uncle
spoilt
the
climax
,
and
did
not
die
.
I
replaced
the
little
clergyman
on
the
chair
by
the
bedside
,
and
he
hovered
about
the
room
.
"
I
think
,
"
he
whispered
to
me
mysteriously
,
as
he
gave
place
to
me
,
"
I
believe-it
is
well
with
him
.
"
I
heard
him
trying
to
render
the
stock
phrases
of
Low
Church
piety
into
French
for
the
benefit
of
the
stolid
man
in
grey
alpaca
.
Then
he
knocked
a
glass
off
the
table
,
and
scrabbled
for
the
fragments
.
From
the
first
I
doubted
the
theory
of
an
immediate
death
.
I
consulted
the
doctor
in
urgent
whispers
.
I
turned
round
to
get
champagne
,
and
nearly
fell
over
the
clergyman
's
legs
.
He
was
on
his
knees
at
the
additional
chair
the
Basque
landlady
had
got
on
my
arrival
,
and
he
was
praying
aloud
,
"
Oh
,
Heavenly
Father
,
have
mercy
on
this
thy
Child
...
.
"
I
hustled
him
up
and
out
of
the
way
,
and
in
another
minute
he
was
down
at
another
chair
praying
again
,
and
barring
the
path
of
the
religieuse
,
who
had
found
me
the
corkscrew
.
Something
put
into
my
head
that
tremendous
blasphemy
of
Carlyle
's
about
"
the
last
mew
of
a
drowning
kitten
.
"
He
found
a
third
chair
vacant
presently
;
it
was
as
if
he
was
playing
a
game
.
"
Good
Heavens
!
"
I
said
,
"
we
must
clear
these
people
out
,
"
and
with
a
certain
urgency
I
did
.
I
had
a
temporary
lapse
of
memory
,
and
forgot
all
my
French
.
I
drove
them
out
mainly
by
gesture
,
and
opened
the
window
,
to
the
universal
horror
.
I
intimated
the
death
scene
was
postponed
,
and
,
as
a
matter
of
fact
,
my
uncle
did
not
die
until
the
next
night
.
I
did
not
let
the
little
clergyman
come
near
him
again
,
and
I
was
watchful
for
any
sign
that
his
mind
had
been
troubled
.
But
he
made
none
.
He
talked
once
about
"
that
parson
chap
.
"
"
Did
n't
bother
you
?
"
I
asked
.
"
Wanted
something
,
"
he
said
.
I
kept
silence
,
listening
keenly
to
his
mutterings
.
I
understood
him
to
say
,
"
They
wanted
too
much
.
"
His
face
puckered
like
a
child
's
going
to
cry
.
"
You
ca
n't
get
a
safe
six
per
cent
.
,
"
he
said
.
I
had
for
a
moment
a
wild
suspicion
that
those
urgent
talks
had
not
been
altogether
spiritual
,
but
that
,
I
think
,
was
a
quite
unworthy
and
unjust
suspicion
.
The
little
clergyman
was
as
simple
and
honest
as
the
day
.
My
uncle
was
simply
generalising
about
his
class
.
But
it
may
have
been
these
talks
that
set
loose
some
long
dormant
string
of
ideas
in
my
uncle
's
brain
,
ideas
the
things
of
this
world
had
long
suppressed
and
hidden
altogether
.
Near
the
end
he
suddenly
became
clearminded
and
lucid
,
albeit
very
weak
,
and
his
voice
was
little
,
but
clear
.
"
George
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
'm
here
,
"
I
said
,
"
close
beside
you
.
"
"
George
.
You
have
always
been
responsible
for
the
science
.
George
.
You
know
better
than
I
do
.
Is-Is
it
proved
?
"
"
What
proved
?
"
"
Either
way
?
"
"
I
do
n't
understand
.
"
"
Death
ends
all
.
After
so
much-Such
splendid
beginnin
's
.
Somewhere
.
Something
.
"
I
stared
at
him
amazed
.
His
sunken
eyes
were
very
grave
.
"
What
do
you
expect
?
"
I
said
in
wonder
.
He
would
not
answer
.
"
Aspirations
,
"
he
whispered
.
He
fell
into
a
broken
monologue
,
regardless
of
me
.
"
Trailing
clouds
of
glory
,
"
he
said
,
and
"
first-rate
poet
,
first-rate
...
.George
was
always
hard
.
Always
.
"
For
a
long
time
there
was
silence
.
Then
he
made
a
gesture
that
he
wished
to
speak
.
"
Seems
to
me
,
George
"
I
bent
my
head
down
,
and
he
tried
to
lift
his
hand
to
my
shoulder
.
I
raised
him
a
little
on
his
pillows
,
and
listened
.
"
It
seems
to
me
,
George
,
always-there
must
be
something
in
me-that
wo
n't
die
.
"
He
looked
at
me
as
though
the
decision
rested
with
me
.
"
I
think
,
"
he
said
;
"
-something
.
"
Then
,
for
a
moment
,
his
mind
wandered
.
"
Just
a
little
link
,
"
he
whispered
almost
pleadingly
,
and
lay
quite
still
,
but
presently
he
was
uneasy
again
.
"
Some
other
world
"
"
Perhaps
,
"
I
said
.
"
Who
knows
?
"
"
Some
other
world
.
"
"
Not
the
same
scope
for
enterprise
,
"
I
said
.
"
No.
"
He
became
silent
.
I
sat
leaning
down
to
him
,
and
following
out
my
own
thoughts
,
and
presently
the
religieuse
resumed
her
periodic
conflict
with
the
window
fastening
.
For
a
time
he
struggled
for
breath
...
.
It
seemed
such
nonsense
that
he
should
have
to
suffer
so-poor
silly
little
man
!
"
George
,
"
he
whispered
,
and
his
weak
little
hand
came
out
.
"
PERHAPS-
"
He
said
no
more
,
but
I
perceived
from
the
expression
of
his
eyes
that
he
thought
the
question
had
been
put
.
"
Yes
,
I
think
so
;
"
I
said
stoutly
.
"
Are
n't
you
sure
?
"
"
Oh-practically
sure
,
"
said
I
,
and
I
think
he
tried
to
squeeze
my
hand
.
And
there
I
sat
,
holding
his
hand
tight
,
and
trying
to
think
what
seeds
of
immortality
could
be
found
in
all
his
being
,
what
sort
of
ghost
there
was
in
him
to
wander
out
into
the
bleak
immensities
.
Queer
fancies
came
to
me
...
.
He
lay
still
for
a
long
time
,
save
for
a
brief
struggle
or
so
for
breath
and
ever
and
again
I
wiped
his
mouth
and
lips
.
I
