I
The headquarters of the Azure Society were situate in MarloesRoad--for no other reason than that it happened so. Though certainfamous people inhabit Marloes Road, no street could well be lessfashionable than this thoroughfare, which is very arid and very long,and a very long way off the centre of the universe.
"The Azure Society, you know!" Edward Henry added, when he had giventhe exact address to the chauffeur of the taxi.
The chauffeur, however, did not know, and did not seem to be ashamedof his ignorance. His attitude indicated that he despised MarloesRoad and was not particularly anxious for his vehicle to be seentherein--especially on a wet night--but that nevertheless he wouldendeavour to reach it. When he did reach it, and observed the largeconcourse of shining automobiles that struggled together in therain in front of the illuminated number named by Edward Henry, thechauffeur admitted to himself that for once he had been mistaken,and his manner of receiving money from Edward Henry was generouslyrespectful.
Originally, the headquarters of the Azure Society had been a seminaryand schoolmistress's house. The thoroughness with which the buildingshad been transformed showed that money was not among the things whichthe Society had to search for. It had rich resources, and it had alsohigh social standing; and the deferential commissionaires at the doorsand the fluffy-aproned, appealing girls who gave away programmes inthe _foyer_ were a proof that the Society, while doubtless anxiousabout such subjects as the persistence of individuality after death,had no desire to reconstitute the community on a democratic basis. Itwas above such transient trifles of reform, and its high endeavourswere confined to questions of immortality, of the infinite, of sex,and of art: which questions it discussed in fine raiment and with allthe punctilio of courtly politeness.
Edward Henry was late, in common with some two hundred other people,of whom the majority were elegant women wearing Paris or almost-Parisgowns with a difference. As on the current of the variegated thronghe drifted through corridors into the bijou theatre of the Society, hecould not help feeling proud of his own presence there--and yet at thesame time he was scorning, in his Five Towns way, the preciosityand the simperings of those his fellow-creatures. Seated in theauditorium, at the end of a row, he was aware of an even keenersatisfaction, as people bowed and smiled to him; for the theatre wasso tiny and the reunion so choice that it was obviously an honour anda distinction to have been invited to such an exclusive affair. To theevening first fixed for the dramatic soiree of the Azure Society hehad received no invitation. But shortly after the postponement due toElsie April's indisposition an envelope addressed by Marrier himself,and containing the sacred card, had arrived for him in Bursley. Hisinstinct had been to ignore it, and for two days he had ignored it,and then he noticed in one corner the initials, "E.A." Strange that itdid not occur to him immediately that E.A. stood, or might stand, forElsie April!
Reflection brings wisdom and knowledge. In the end he was absolutelyconvinced that E.A. stood for Elsie April; and at the last moment,deciding that it would be the act of a fool and a coward to declinewhat was practically a personal request from a young and enchantingwoman, he had come to London--short of sleep, it is true, owing tolocal convivialities, but he had come! And, curiously, he had notcommunicated with Marrier. Marrier had been extremely taken upwith the dramatic soiree of the Azure Society--which Edward Henryjustifiably but quite privately resented. Was he not paying threepounds a week to Marrier?
And now, there he sat, known, watched, a notoriety, the card who hadraised Pilgrim to the skies, probably the only theatrical proprietorin the crowded and silent audience; and he was expecting anxiouslyto see Elsie April again--across the footlights! He had not seen hersince the night of the stone-laying, over a week earlier. He had notsought to see her. He had listened then to the delicate tones of herweak, whispering, thrilling voice, and had expressed regret for RoseEuclid's plight. But he had done no more. What could he have done?Clearly he could not have offered money to relieve the plight of RoseEuclid, who was the cousin of a girl as wealthy and as sympatheticas Elsie April. To do so would have been to insult Elsie. Yet he feltguilty, none the less. An odd situation! The delicate tones of Elsie'sweak, whispering, thrilling voice on the scaffolding haunted hismemory, and came back with strange clearness as he sat waiting for thecurtain to ascend.
There was an outburst of sedate applause, and a turning of heads tothe right. Edward Henry looked in that direction. Rose Euclid herselfwas bowing from one of the two boxes on the first tier. Instantly shehad been recognized and acknowledged, and the clapping had in no wisedisturbed her. Evidently she accepted it as a matter of course. Howfamous, after all, she must be, if such an audience would pay her sucha meed! She was pale, and dressed glitteringly in white. She seemedyounger, more graceful, much more handsome, more in accordance withher renown. She was at home and at ease up there in the brightnessof publicity. The imposing legend of her long career had survived theeclipse in the United States. Who could have guessed that some tendays before she had landed heart-broken and ruined at Tilbury from the_Minnetonka_?
Edward Henry was impressed.
"She's none so dusty!" he said to himself in the incomprehensibleslang of the Five Towns. The phrase was a high compliment to RoseEuclid, aged fifty and looking anything you like over thirty. Itmeasured the extent to which he was impressed.
Yes, he felt guilty. He had to drop his eyes, lest hers should catchthem. He examined guiltily the programme, which announced "The NewDon Juan," a play "in three acts and in verse"--author unnamed. Thecurtain went up.