The Regent

  I

  On a morning in spring Edward Henry got out of an express at Eustonwhich had come, not from the Five Towns, but from Birmingham. Havingon the previous day been called to Birmingham on local and profitablebusiness, he had found it convenient to spend the night thereand telegraph home that London had summoned him. It was in thisunostentatious, this half-furtive fashion, that his visits to Londonnow usually occurred. Not that he was afraid of his wife! Not that hewas afraid even of his mother! Oh, no! He was merely rather afraid ofhimself--of his own opinion concerning the metropolitan, non-local,speculative and perhaps unprofitable business to which he wascommitted. The fact was that he could scarcely look his women inthe face when he mentioned London. He spoke vaguely of "real estate"enterprise, and left it at that. The women made no inquiries; they tooleft it at that. Nevertheless ...!

  The episode of Wilkins's was buried, but it was imperfectly buried.The Five Towns definitely knew that he had stayed at Wilkins's fora bet, and that Brindley had discharged the bet. And rumours of hisvalet, his electric brougham, his theatrical supper-parties, hadmysteriously hung in the streets of the Five Towns like a strangevapour. Wisps of the strange vapour had conceivably entered theprecincts of his home, but nobody ever referred to them; nobody eversniffed apprehensively nor asked anybody else whether there was nota smell of fire. The discreetness of the silence was disconcerting.Happily his relations with that angel his wife were excellent. Shehad carried angelicism so far as not to insist on the destruction ofCarlo; and she had actually applauded, while sticking to her whiteapron, the sudden and startling extravagances of his toilette.

  On the whole, though little short of thirty-five thousand pounds wouldultimately be involved--not to speak of a liability of nearly threethousand a year for sixty-four years for ground-rent--Edward Henry wasnot entirely gloomy as to his prospects. He was, indubitably thinnerin girth; novel problems and anxieties, and the constant annoyanceof being in complete technical ignorance of his job, had removed someflesh. (And not a bad thing, either!) But on the other hand hischin exhibited one proof that life was worth living, and that he haddiscovered new faith in life and a new conviction of youthfulness.

  He had shaved off his beard.

  "Well, sir!" a voice greeted him full of hope and cheer, immediatelyhis feet touched the platform.

  It was the voice of Mr. Marrier. Edward Henry and Mr. Marrier were nowin regular relations. Before Edward Henry had paid his final bill atWilkins's and relinquished his valet and his electric brougham, anddisposed for ever of his mythical "man" on board the Minnetonka, andgot his original luggage away from the Hotel Majestic, Mr. Marrier hadvisited him and made a certain proposition. And such was the influenceof Mr. Marrier's incurable smile and of his solid optimism and of hisobvious talent for getting things done on the spot (as witness thephotography), that the proposition had been accepted. Mr. Marrier wasnow Edward Henry's "representative" in London. At the Green RoomClub Mr. Marrier informed reliable cronies that he was Edward Henry's"confidential adviser." At the Turk's Head, Hanbridge, Edward Henryinformed reliable cronies that Mr. Marrier was a sort of clerk,factotum, or maid-of-all-work. A compromise between these two verydifferent conceptions of Mr. Marrier's position had been arrived atin the word "representative." The real truth was that Edward Henryemployed Mr. Marrier in order to listen to Mr. Marrier. He turned onMr. Marrier like a tap, and nourished himself from a gushing stream ofuseful information concerning the theatrical world. Mr. Marrier,quite unconsciously, was bit by bit remedying Edward Henry's acuteignorance.

  The question of wages had caused Edward Henry some apprehensions.He had learnt in a couple of days that a hundred pounds a week was atrifle on the stage. He had soon heard of performers who worked for"nominal" salaries of forty and fifty a week. For a manager twentypounds a week seemed to be a usual figure. But in the Five Towns threepounds a week is regarded as very goodish pay for any sub-ordinate,and Edward Henry could not rid himself all at once of nativestandards. He had therefore, with diffidence, offered three pounds aweek to the aristocratic Marrier. And Mr. Marrier had not refusedit, nor ceased to smile. On three pounds a week he haunted the bestrestaurants, taxi-cabs, and other resorts, and his garb seemed alwaysto be smarter than Edward Henry's--especially in such details aswaistcoat slips.

  Of course Mr. Marrier had a taxi-cab waiting exactly opposite thecoach from which Edward Henry descended. It was just this kind ofefficient attention that was gradually endearing him to his employer.

  "How goes it?" said Edward Henry, curtly, as they drove down tothe Grand Babylon Hotel--now Edward Henry's regular headquarters inLondon.

  Said Mr. Marrier:

  "I suppose you've seen another of 'em's got a knighthood?"

  "No," said Edward Henry. "Who?" He knew that by "'em" Mr. Marriermeant the great race of actor-managers.

  "Gerald Pompey. Something to do with him being a sheriff in the City,you know. I bet you what you laike he went in for the Common Councilsimply in order to get even with old Pilgrim. In fact I know he did.And now a foundation-stone-laying has dan it."

  "A foundation-stone-laying?"

  "Yes. The new City Guild's building, you knaow. Royalty--Temple Barbusiness--sheriffs--knighthood. There you are!"

  "Oh!" said Edward Henry. And then after a pause added: "Pity _we_can't have a foundation-stone-laying!"

  "By the way, old Pilgrim's in the deuce and all of a haole, I heah.It's all over the Clubs." (In speaking of the Clubs Mr. Marrier alwayspronounced them with a capital letter.) "I told you he was goingto sail from Tilbury on his world-tour, and have a grand embarkingceremony and seeing-off! Just laike him! Greatest advertiser the worldever saw! Well, since that P. & O. boat was lost on the Goodwins, CoraPryde has absolutely declined to sail from Tilbury. Ab-so-lute-ly!Swears she'll join the steamer at Marseilles. And Pilgrim has got togo with her, too."

  "Why?"

  "Well, even Pilgrim couldn't have a grand embarking ceremony withouthis leading lady! He's furious, I hear."

  "Why shouldn't he go with her?"

  "Why not? Because he's formally announced his grand embarkingceremony! Invitations are out. Barge from London Bridge to Tilbury,and so on! What he wants is a good excuse for giving it up. He'd neverbe able to admit that he'd had to give it up because Cora Pryde madehim! He wants to save his face."

  "Well," said Edward Henry, absently. "It's a queer world. You've gotme a room at the Grand Bab?"

  "Rather!"

  "Then let's go and have a look at the Regent first," said EdwardHenry.

  No sooner had he expressed the wish than Mr. Harrier's neck curvedround through the window, and with three words to the chauffeur he haddeflected the course of the taxi.

  Edward Henry had an almost boyish curiosity about his edifice. Hewould go and give it a glance at the oddest moments. And just now hehad a swift and violent desire to behold it. With all speed the taxishot down Shaftesbury Avenue and swerved to the right....

  There it was! Yes, it really existed, the incredible edifice of hiscaprice and of Mr. Alloyd's constructive imagination! It had alreadyreached a height of fifteen feet; and, dozen of yards above that,cranes dominated the sunlit air, swinging loads of bricks in theazure; and scores of workmen crawled about beneath these monsters. Andhe, Edward Henry, by a single act of volition, was the author of it!He slipped from the taxi, penetrated within the wall of hoardings,and gazed, just gazed! A wondrous thing--human enterprise! And alsoa terrifying thing!... That building might be the tomb of hisreputation. On the other hand, it might be the seed of a new renowncompared to which the first would be as naught! He turned his eyesaway, in fear--yes, in fear!

  "I say," he said. "Will Sir John Pilgrim be out of bed yet, d'yethink?" He glanced at his watch. The hour was about eleven.

  "He'll be at breakfast."

  "I'm going to see him, then. What's his address?"

  "25 Queen Anne's Gate. But do you knaow him? I do. Shall I cam withyou?"

  "No," said Edward Henry, shortly. "You go o
n with my bags to the GrandBab, and get me another taxi. I'll see you in my room at the hotel ata quarter to one. Eh?"

  "Rather!" agreed Mr. Marrier, submissive.