Living Alone

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE REGRETTABLE WEDNESDAY

  "What a very singular thing," said the Mayor, meeting the witchtowards three o'clock in the afternoon, as she came down the Broad Walktowards Kensington, having slept invisibly among the daffodils fornearly twelve hours. "A really very singular thing. 'Tisn't once in fiveyears I visit these parts, and now I'm here I meet the very person I wasthinkin' about." He winked.

  "It's almost like magic, isn't it," said the witch, winking busily inreturn.

  "Well, I've done what you told me to," said the Mayor.

  "What was that?"

  "You will 'ave your joke," he retorted indulgently. "Pretending not toknow, indeed. I've done what you told me the other day when you came tothat committee with your cat. I thought it over--I'm not a proud man,never above takin' a hint,--and I admitted to meself that what yousaid was fair about makin' money. Some'ow I never thought but what moneywas the first thing to make in business. To tell you the truth, I alwaysthought it rather a feather in my cap that I never took advantage ofBrown Borough customers in selling adulterated goods, for--Lawdy--they'dswallow anythink. It's different with your business, bein' in an'igher-class locality. 'Igh prices, I thought, was only natural. Make'ay while the sun shines was my motter, and I says to meself there wasno reason why this war should make _everyone_ un'appy. As for lookin' atthe grocery business as a trust from God, like you said, I never drempof such a thing, although I've bin to Chapel regular for ten years. ButI see now there was a lot in what you said, and when I come to think ofit, there was no need to make such a terrible lot of extra hay, 'owevermuch the sun might be shinin'. When you put it like that, I couldn't saywhy I was so set on more money, 'aving quite enough. Well, I says tomeself, after shutting meself up to think it out, like you said, 'eream I giving up all my life an' all my jolly days an' 'olidays, an' I'mdamned if I know what for. For money,--just money stewin' in its ownjuice in a bank,--not money I can use. Well, everybody's trained so, I'mthinkin'. Anyway I took it friendly of you to put it so delicate, sofanciful as you did, so as them charity ladies didn't smell a rat. Iappreciated that, an' thought the more of what you said. I'm not a proudman."

  "You're just proud enough," said the witch. "You're a darling. If ever Ican help you in a business way, let me know. If you want to start a sideline, for instance, in Happiness, I can give you a tip where to get itwholesale, within limits. It'd go like wildfire in the Brown Borough, ifyou put in an ounce or two, gratis of course, with every order."

  "You will 'ave your joke," murmured the Mayor. "But I like it in you.I'm a man that never takes a joke amiss. Let's go for a walk together."

  "No," said the witch. "I am so hungry that my ribs are beginning to bendinwards. I must go and have sausages and mash and two apple dumplings."

  They found themselves presently seated at the marble-topped table of anA.B.C. After an interval that could hardly be accurately described aspresently, sausages and mash dawned on the horizon, and the witch wavedher fork rudely at it as it approached.

  "Mashed is splendid stuff to sculp with," she said, roughing in a groundplan upon her plate with the sure carelessness of the artist. "This isgoing to be an ivory castle built upon a rock in a glassy sea. Thesausage is the dragon guarding it, and this little crumb of bread is theemprisoned princess, a dull but sterling creature----"

  "Look 'ere, Miss Watkins," interrupted the Mayor. "I'm not as a rule animpulsive man, and I don't want to startle you----"

  "How d'you mean startle me?" asked the witch. "You haven't startled meat all. But the fact is, I never have been much of a person for gettingmarried, thank you very much. I'm an awful bad house-keeper. And I _do_so much enjoy having no money."

  "Well, I'm blessed," exclaimed the Mayor. "You're a perfect witch, Ideclare." He laid a large meat-like hand upon hers. "But you know, youcan't put the lid on me so easy as that. Ever since you came into thatold committee room I saw there was something particular about you,something that you an' me 'ad in common. I'm not speakin' so much of usbein' in the same line of business. Some'ow--oh, 'ang it all, let's getout of this and take a taxi. I'm not a kissing man, but----"

  He seemed very persistent in applying negatived adjectives to himself.It was not his fault if the world failed to grasp exactly what he was,or rather exactly what he was not.

  "I have often wondered," interrupted the witch, "talking ofkissing--what would happen if two snipes wanted to kiss each other? Itwould have to be at such awfully long range, wouldn't it. Or----"

  "Come off it," ordered the Mayor irritably. "What about gettin' out ofthis and----"

  "Don't you think this is becoming rather a tiresome scene?" said thewitch. "Somehow over luscious, don't you think? I wish those appledumplings would hurry up."

  "'Ere, miss," said the Mayor ungraciously to a passing whirlwind. "'Urrythem dumplings."

  "'Urry them dumplings," echoed the whirlwind to a little hole in thewall.

  The witch had a silly vision of two distressed dumplings, like dilatorychorus girls, mad with the nightmare feeling of not being dressed intime, hearing their cue called in a heartless voice from the inexorablesky, desperately applying the last dab of flour to their imperfectcomplexions. But the witch found no fault with them when they came. Shegave them her whole attention for some minutes.

  "Well, well," she said, laying down her fork and spoon, "that's good. Ifeel awfully grown-up, having had a proposal. When real girls ask me nowhow many I've had, I shall be able to say One. But I met a girl theother day who had had six. She had six photographs, but she called themscalps. If you would give me your photograph I could label it A Scalp,and hang it in the Shop. That would be very grown-up, wouldn't it?"

  "You will 'ave your joke," said the Mayor in a hollow voice. "I nevermet such a gurl as you for a bit of fun. I don't believe you've got any'eart."

  There, of course, he was right. A heart is a sort of degree conferred byProvidence on those who have passed a certain examination. Magic peopleare only freshmen in our college, and it is useless for us--secure inthe possession of many learned letters after our names--to despise them.They will become sophisticated in due course.

  "How d'you mean--heart?" asked the witch therefore. "I've still got anawful hunger inside me, if that's anything to do with it. I'll tell youwhat. It's Wednesday. Let's go and call on Miss Ford. She might havegrassy sandwiches."

  There was a most abrupt and disturbing draught in Miss Ford's sleek anddecorous flat as the witch and the Mayor entered it. The serenity of thenight and the morning had been suddenly obliterated, and Kensingtonsuffered a gust or two of gritty wind which blew the babies home fromthe Gardens, and kept all the window-gazers in the High Street on thealert with their fingers on the triggers of their umbrellas.

  But no rain fell. Rain cannot fall in this book of fine weather.

  The draught that intruded into the flat ruffled the neat hair of fivepersons, Miss Ford herself, Lady Arabel Higgins, Miss Ivy MacBee, Mr.Bernard Tovey, and Mr. Darnby Frere.

  Miss MacBee always seemed to be seated on tenterhooks, even in the mostcomfortable of chairs. Her Spartan spine never consented graciously tothe curves of cushions. She had smooth padded hair and smooth paddedmanners, and her eyes were magnified by thick pince-nez to a cow-likesize. Most people, especially most women, were instinctively sorry forher, because she always looked a little clever and very uncomfortable.

  Mr. Bernard Tovey was a blunt-nosed beaming person. He leaned forwardabruptly whenever he spoke, thereby swinging a lock of hair into hisright eye. He agreed so heartily with everything that was said thatpeople who addressed him were left with the happy impression that theyhad said something Rather Good. This habit, combined with the fact thathe never launched an independent remark, had given him the reputation ofbeing one of the best talkers in Kensington.

  Mr. Darnby Frere was the editor of an advanced religious paper called _IWonder_, but he never wondered really. He knew almost everything, andtherefore, while despising the public for kn
owing so little, heencouraged it to continue wondering, so that he might continue despisingand instructing it.

  Now it was an almost unprecedented thing for two members of the smalltrades-man class to come into Miss Ford's drawing-room, especially on aWednesday. The utmost social mingling of the classes that those wallshad ever seen was the moment when Miss Ford asked the electric light manwhat he thought of the war. The electric light man's reply had beenquoted in the dialect on two or three of the following Wednesdays, as aproof of Miss Ford's daring intimacy with men in Another Station ofLife. Really it would have been simpler, though of course not sopicturesque, to have quoted it direct from its original source, _JohnBull_, the electric light man's Bible.

  The entrance of the witch and the Mayor was to a certain extent acrisis, but Miss Ford kept her head, and her three friends, thoughgrasping at once the extraordinary situation, did not give way to panic.

  "Well, well, well," said the Mayor, looking round and breathing veryloudly. "This is a cosy little nook you've got 'ere."

  He was not at all at his ease, but being a business man, and being alsoblessed with a peculiarly inexpressive face, he was successfullydissembling his discomfort.

  For it had happened that the lift had been one of those lifts that cando no wrong, the kind that the public is indulgently allowed to work byitself. And the Mayor, looking upon this fact as specially planned by apropitious god of love, had tried to kiss the witch as they shot up thedarkened shaft. If I remind you that the witch was still accompanied byher broomstick, Harold, a creature of unreasoning fidelity, I needhardly describe the scene further. The Mayor stepped out of the liftwith a tingling scraped face, and if he had possessed enough hair on hishead, it would have been on end. As it was, when the lift stopped, heretrieved his hat from the floor with a frank oath, and, as the witchhad at once rung the bell of Miss Ford's flat, he instinctively followedher across that threshold.

  She looked round in the hall, and said with a friendly smile: "I'mafraid Harold gets a bit irritable sometimes. I often tell him to countten before he lets himself go, but he forgets. Did he hurt you?"

  I am afraid the angry Mayor did not give Harold credit for muchinitiative.

  "Kissing is such a funny habit, isn't it," said the witch briskly as sheshook Miss Ford's hand. "I wonder who decided in the first place whichforms of contact should express which forms of emotion. I wonder----"

  She interrupted herself as her eyes fell on some green sandwiches whichwere occupying the third floor of a wicker Eiffel Tower beside MissFord. "Oh how gorgeous," she said. "Do you know, I've only had two mealsin the last two days."

  Nobody present had ever been obliged to miss a meal, so this statementseemed to every one to be a message from another world.

  "You must tell us about all your experiences, my dear Miss Watkins,"said Miss Ford, leading the witch towards a chair by the fire. The witchsat down suddenly cross-legged on the hearth-rug, leaving her ratherembarrassed hostess in the air, so to speak, towering rigidly above her.

  "How d'you mean--experiences?" said the witch, after eating one sandwichin silent ecstasy. "I was up in the sky last night, talking to a German.Was that an experience?"

  "The sky last night was surely no place for a lady," said Mr. Frere withrather sour joviality.

  "Oh, I know what she means," said Miss MacBee earnestly. "I was up inthe sky last night too----"

  "Great Scott," exclaimed the witch. "But----"

  "Yes, I was," persisted Miss MacBee. "I lay on the hammock which I havehad slung in my cellar, and shut my eyes, and loosed my spirit, and itshot upward like a lark released. It detached itself from the commontrammels of the body, yes, my spirit, in shining armour, fought with thefalse, cruel spirits of murderers."

  "I hadn't got any shining armour," sighed the witch, who had beenlooking a little puzzled. "But I had the hell of a wrangle with a Bochewitch who came over. We fought till we fell off our broomsticks, andthen she quoted the _Daily Mail_ at me, and then she fell through a holeand broke her back over the cross on St. Paul's."

  It was Miss MacBee's turn to look puzzled, but she said to Miss Ford:"My dear, you have brought us a real mystic."

  Mr. Frere, though emitting an applauding murmur, leaned back and fixedhis face in the ambiguous expression of one who, while listening withinterest to the conversation of liars, is determined not to appeardeceived.

  "How d'you mean--mystic?" asked the witch. "I don't think I can havemade myself clear. Excuse me," she added to Miss Ford, "but this roomsmells awfully clever to any one coming in from outside. Do you mind ifI dance a little, to move the air about?"

  "We shall be delighted," said Miss Ford indulgently. "Shall I play foryou?"

  The witch did not answer; she rose, and as she rose she threw a littlewhite paper packet into the fire. She danced round the sofa and thechairs. The floor shook a little, and all her watchers twisted theirnecks gravely, like lizards watching an active fly.

  The parlour-maid, by appearing in the doorway with an inaudibleannouncement, diverted their attention, though she did not interrupt thewitch's exercises.

  A very respectable-looking man came in. Darnby Frere, who was a studentof Henry James's works, and therefore constantly made elaborate guesseson matters that did not concern him, and then forgot thembecause--unlike Mr. James's guesses--they were always wrong, gave thenewcomer credit for being perhaps a shopwalker, or perhaps aSouth-Eastern and Chatham ticket-collector, but surely a chapel-goer.

  At any rate the stranger looked ill at ease, and especially disconcertedby the sight of the dancing witch.

  Miss Ford realised by now that her Wednesday had for some reason gonemad. She had lost her hold on the reins of that usually dignifiedequipage; there was nothing now for her to do but to grip tight and keepher head.

  She therefore concealed her ignorance of her newest guest's identity,she stiffened her lips and poured out another cup of tea with anerveless hand. The stranger took the cup of tea with some relief, andsaid: "Thenk you, meddem."

  The witch stopped dancing, and stood in front of the newcomer's chair.

  "I think yours must be a discouraging job," she said to him. "Gettingpeople punished for doing things you'd love to do yourself. Oh, awfullydiscouraging. And do tell me, there's a little problem that's been on mymind ever since the war started. I hear that Hindenburg says the GermanArmy intends to march through London the moment it can brush away theobstacles in front of it. Have you considered what will happen to thetraffic, because you know Germans on principle march on the wrong sideof the street--indeed everybody in the world does, except theconscientious British. Think of the knotted convulsions of traffic atthe Bank, with a hundred thousand Boches goose-stepping on the wrongside of the road--think of poor thin Fleet Street, and the dam thatwould occur in Piccadilly Circus. What do you policemen intend to doabout it?"

  "I don't know I'm sure, miss," said the newcomer coldly. "It's a longtime since I was on point duty. I'm a plain clothes man, meddem," headded to Miss Ford. "I'm afraid I'm intruding on your tea-party, owingto your maid misunderstanding my business. But being 'ere, I 'ope you'llexcuse me stating what I've come for."

  "Oh certainly, certainly," said Miss Ford, who was staring vaguely intothe fireplace. A rather fascinating thread of lilac smoke was spinningitself out of the ashes of the little white paper packet.

  "The names of the Mayor of the Brown Borough, Miss Meter Mostyn Ford,and Lady A. 'Iggins--all of 'oom I understand from the maid arepresent--'ave been mentioned as being presoomably willing to giveinformation likely to be 'elpful in the search for a suspiciouscherecter 'oo is believed to 'ave intruded on a cheritable meeting, atwhich you were present last Seturday, in order to escape arrest, 'avingjust perpetrated a petty theft from a baker, 'Ermann Schwab. Thecherecter is charged now with a more important offence, being inpossession of an armed flying machine, in defiance of the Defence of theRealm Act, and interfering with the work of 'Is Majesty's Forces duringenemy attack. The cherecter is believed to be
a man in female disguise,but enquiry up to date 'as failed to get any useful description. Youladies and gents, I understand, should be able to 'elp the Law in thismetter."

  There was a stunned silence in the room, broken only by the pastoralsound of the witch eating grassy sandwiches. After a moment Miss Ford,the Mayor, and Lady Arabel all began speaking at once, and each stoppedwith a look of relief on hearing that some one else was ready to takethe responsibility of speaking.

  Then the witch began with her mouth full: "You know----," but LadyArabel interrupted her.

  "Angela dear, be silent. This does not concern you. Of course,inspector, we're all only too dretfully anxious to do anything to helpthe Law, but you must specify the occasion more exactly. Our committeesees so many applicants."

  "You are Lady A. 'Iggins, I believe," said the policeman impassively."Well, my lady, may I ask you whether you are aware thet the cherecterin question was seen to leave your 'ouse last night, at nine forty-fiveP.M., after the warning of approaching enemy atteck was given, and todisappear in an easterly direction, on a miniature 'eavier than airmachine, make and number unknown?"

  The threads of curious smoke in the fireplace were increasing. Theyshivered as though with laughter, and flowed like crimped hair up thechimney.

  "I had a dinner-party last night certainly," stammered Lady Arabel. Atrembling seized the sock she was knitting. She had turned the heel sometime ago, but in the present stress had forgotten all about the toe. Theprolonged sock grew every minute more and more like a drain-pipe with abend in it. "Why yes, of course I had a dinner-party; why shouldn't I?My son Rrchud, a private in the London Rifles, this young lady, MissAngela--er--, and her friend--such a good quiet creature...."

  "And 'oo else was in the 'ouse?" asked the policeman, glancing haughtilyat the witch.

  "Oh nobody, nobody. The servants all gave notice and left--too dretfullytahsome how they can't stand Rrchud and his ways. Of course there wasthe orchestra--twenty-five pieces--but _so_ dependable."

  "Dependable," said the witch, "is a mystery word to me. I can't thinkhow it got into the English language without being right. SurelyDepend-on-able----"

  "Your son 'as peculiar ways, you say, my lady," interrupted thepoliceman.

  "Oh, nothing to speak of," answered Lady Arabel, wincing. "Merelylighthearted ... too dretfully Bohemian ... ingenious, you know, inmaking experiments ... magnetism...."

  "Experiments in Magnetism," spelt the policeman aloud into his notebook."And 'oo left your 'ouse at nine forty-five P.M. last night?"

  "I did," said the witch.

  The policeman withered her once more with a glance.

  "Lady 'Iggins, did you say your son left your 'ouse at nine forty-fiveP.M. last night?"

  "Yes, but----"

  "Thenk you, my lady."

  "You seem to me dretfully impertinent," said Lady Arabel. "This is not acourt of law. My son Rrchud left the house with me and our guest to seekshelter from the raid."

  "Thenk you, my lady," repeated the policeman coldly, and turned to MissFord.

  "Could you identify the cherecter 'oo came into your committee room lastSeturday?" he asked of her.

  "No," she replied.

  "Couldn't you say whether it seemed like a male or a female in disguise?Couldn't you mention any physical pecooliarity that struck you?"

  "No," said Miss Ford.

  "'Ave you no memory of last Seturday night?"

  "No," said Miss Ford.

  "I have," said the witch.

  The policeman bridled. "I was addressing this 'ere lady, Miss M.M. Ford.Can you at least tell me, meddem, 'ow long you and the 'Iggins family'ave been acquainted?"

  "No," said Miss Ford.

  "Eighteen years," said Lady Arabel.

  The fumes from the fireplace were very strong indeed, but nobody calledattention to them.

  "I'm sorry, ..." said Miss Ford presently, very slowly, "that ... I ...can't help you. I have ... been having ... nerve-storms ... since ...last ... Saturday...."

  The policeman fixed his ominous gaze upon her for quite a minute beforehe wrote something in his notebook.

  "Is Private Richard 'Iggins in town to-night?" he asked of Lady Arabelin a casual voice.

  "I suppose so," she replied. "But he has such a dretful habit ofdisappearing...."

  The policeman turned to the Mayor.

  "Now, sir," he said. "Could you help me at all in----"

  "Look here," said the witch, rising. "If you would only come along to myhouse in Mitten Island I can truly give you all the information youneed. In fact, won't you come to supper with me? If some one will kindlylend me half-a-crown I will go on ahead and cook something."

  Mr. Tovey mechanically produced a coin.

  "Here, Harold," called the witch, and holding Harold's collar shestepped out on to the balcony, mounted, and flew away.

  She left a room full of noise behind her.

  The policeman, who was intoxicated with the strange fumes, said: "Hell.Hell. Hell."

  Lady Arabel called in vain: "Angela, Angela, don't be so dretfullyrash."

  Mr. Tovey, now afflicted with a lock of hair in each eye, seized thepoliceman by the shoulder thinking to prevent him from jumping out ofthe window. "You fool," he shouted.

  The Mayor slapped his thigh with a loud report. "Lawdy," he yelled."She's a sport. She will 'ave 'er joke."

  Miss MacBee laughed hysterically and very loudly.

  Mr. Darnby Frere said "My word" rather cautiously several times, andrubbed the bridge of his nose. He rather thought everybody was pullinghis leg, but could not be sure.

  Only Miss Ford sat silent.