Mr. Prohack

  CHAPTER XV

  THE HEAVY FATHER

  I

  Within a few moments of his final waking up the next morning, Mr.Prohack beheld Eve bending over him, the image of solicitude. She wasdressed for outdoor business.

  "How do you feel?" she asked, in a tender tone that demanded to know theworst at once.

  "Why?" asked Mr. Prohack, thus with one word, and a smile to match,criticising her tone.

  "You looked so dreadfully tired last night. I did feel sorry for you,darling. Don't you think you'd better stay in bed to-day?"

  "Can you seriously suggest such a thing?" he cried. "What about my dailyprogramme if I stay in bed? I have undertaken to be idle, and nobody canbe scientifically idle in bed. I'm late already. Where's my breakfast?Where are my newspapers? I must begin the day without the loss ofanother moment. Please give me my dressing-gown."

  "I very much wonder how your blood-pressure is," Eve complained.

  "And you, I suppose, are perfectly well?"

  "Oh, yes, I am. I'm absolutely cured. Dr. Veiga is really verymarvellous. But I always told you he was."

  "Well," said Mr. Prohack. "What's sauce for the goose has to be saucefor the gander. If you're perfectly well, so am I. You can't have themonopoly of good health in this marriage. What's that pamphlet you'vegot in your hand, my dove?"

  "Oh! It's nothing. It's only about the League of all the Arts. Mr.Morfey gave it to me."

  "I suppose it was that pamphlet you were reading last night in theboudoir instead of coming to bed. Eve, you're hiding something from me.Where are you going to in such a hurry?"

  "I'm not hiding anything, you silly boy.... I thought I'd just run alongand have a look at that house. You see, if it isn't at all the kind ofthing to suit us, me going first will save you the trouble of going."

  "_What house?_" exclaimed Mr. Prohack with terrible emphasis.

  "But Charlie told me he'd told you all about it," Eve protestedinnocently.

  "Charlie told you no such thing," Mr. Prohack contradicted her. "If hetold you anything at all, he merely told you that he'd mentioned a houseto me in the most casual manner."

  Eve proceeded blandly:

  "It's in Manchester Square, very handy for the Wallace Gallery, and youknow how fond you are of pictures. It's on sale, furniture and all; butit can be rented for a year to see how it suits us. Of course it may notsuit us a bit. I understand it has some lovely rooms. Charlie says itwould be exactly the thing for big receptions."

  "_Big receptions_! I shall have nothing to do with it. Now we've lostour children even this house is too big for us. And I know what thehouses in Manchester Square are. You've said all your life you hatereceptions."

  "So I do. They're so much trouble. But one never knows what mayhappen...! And with plenty of servants...!"

  "You understand me. I shall have nothing to do with it. Nothing!"

  "Darling, please, please don't excite yourself. The decision will restentirely with you. You know I shouldn't dream of influencing you. As ifI could! However, I've promised to meet Charlie there this morning. So Isuppose I'd better go. Carthew is late with the car." She tapped herfoot. "And yet I specially told him to be here prompt."

  "Well, considering the hour he brought us home, he's scarcely had timeto get into bed yet. He ought to have had the morning off."

  "Why? A chauffeur's a chauffeur after all. They know what they have todo. Besides, Carthew would do anything for me."

  "Yes, that's you all over. You deliberately bewitch him, and then youshamelessly exploit him. I shall compare notes with Carthew. I can givehim a useful tip or two about you."

  "Oh! Here he is!" said Eve, who had been watching out of the window. "Aurevoir, my pet. Here's Machin with your breakfast and newspapers. Idaresay I shall be back before you're up. But don't count on me."

  As he raised himself against pillows for the meal, after both she andMachin had gone, Mr. Prohack remembered what his mind had said to him afew hours earlier about fighting against further complications of hisexistence, and he set his teeth and determined to fight hard.

  Scarcely had he begun his breakfast when Eve returned, in a state ofexcitement.

  "There's a young woman downstairs waiting for you in the dining-room.She wouldn't give her name to Machin, it seems, but she says she's yournew secretary. Apparently she recognised my car on the way from thegarage and stopped it and got into it; and then she found out she'dforgotten something and the car had to go back with her to where shelives, wherever that is, and that's why Carthew was late for _me_." Evedelivered these sentences with a tremendous air of ordinariness, asthough they related quite usual events and disturbances, and as thoughno wife could possibly see in them any matter for astonishment orreproach. Such was one of her methods of making an effect.

  Mr. Prohack collected himself. On several occasions during the previousafternoon and evening he had meditated somewhat uneasily upon thedomestic difficulties which might inhere in this impulsive engagement ofMiss Winstock as a private secretary, but since waking up the affair hadnot presented itself to his mind. He had indeed completely forgotten it.

  "Who told you all this?" he asked warily.

  "Well, she told Machin and Machin told me."

  "Let me see now," said Mr. Prohack. "Yes. It's quite true. Afterordering a pair of braces yesterday morning, I did order a secretary.She was recommended to me."

  "You didn't say anything about it yesterday."

  "My dove, had I a chance to do so? Had we a single moment together? Andyou know how I was when we reached home, don't you?... You see, I alwayshad a secretary at the Treasury, and I feel sort of lost without one. SoI--"

  "But, darling, _of course_! I always believe in letting you do exactlyas you like. It's the only way.... Au revoir, my pet. Charlie will befrightfully angry with me." And then, at the door: "If she hasn't gotanything to do she can always see to the flowers for me. Perhaps when Icome back you'll introduce us."

  As soon as he had heard the bang of the front-door Mr. Prohack rang hisbell.

  "Machin, I understand that my secretary is waiting in the dining-room."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Ask her to take her things off and then bring her up here."

  "Up here, sir?"

  "That's right."

  In seven movements of unimaginable stealthy swiftness Machin tidied theworst disorders of the room and departed. Mr. Prohack continued hisbreakfast.

  Miss Winstock appeared with a small portable typewriter in her arms anda notebook lodged on the typewriter. She was wearing a smart black skirtand a smart white blouse with a high collar. In her unsullied freshnessof attire she somewhat resembled a stage secretary on a first night; shemight have been mistaken for a brilliant imitation of a real secretary.

  II

  "Good morning. So you're come," Mr. Prohack greeted her firmly.

  "Good morning. Yes, Mr. Prohack."

  "Well, put that thing down on a chair somewhere."

  Machin also had entered the room. She handed a paper to Mr. Prohack.

  "Mistress asked me to give you that, sir."

  It was a lengthy description, typewritten, of a house in ManchesterSquare.

  "Pass me those matches, please," said Mr. Prohack to Mimi when they werealone. "By the way, why wouldn't you give your name when you arrived?"

  "Because I didn't know what it was."

  "Didn't know what it was?"

  "When I told you my Christian name yesterday you said it wouldn't do atall, and I was never to mention it again. In the absence of definiteinstructions about my surname I thought I had better pursue a cautiouspolicy of waiting. I've told the chauffeur that he will know my name indue course and that until I tell him what it is he mustn't know it. Iwas not sure whether you would wish the members of your household toknow that I'm the person who had a collision with your car. Mrs. Prohackand I were both in a state of collapse after the accident, and I wasremoved before she could see me. Therefore she did not recognise me thismorn
ing. But on the other hand she has no doubt heard my name oftenenough since the accident and would recognise _that_."

  Mr. Prohack lit the first cigarette of the day.

  "Why did you bring that typewriter?" he asked gravely.

  "It's mine. I thought that if you didn't happen to have one here itmight be useful. It was the typewriter that the car had to go back for.I'd forgotten it. I can take it away again. But if you like you caneither buy it or hire it from me."

  The girl could not have guessed it from his countenance, but Mr. Prohackwas thunderstruck. She was bringing forward considerations whichpositively had not presented themselves to him. That she had muchinitiative was clear from her conduct of the previous day. She nowdisclosed a startling capacity for intrigue. Mr. Prohack, however, wasnot intimidated. The experience of an official life had taught him thevalue of taciturnity, and moreover a comfortable feeling of satisfactionstole over him as he realised that once again he had a secretary underhis thumb. He seemed to be delightfully resuming the habits whichill-health had so ruthlessly broken.

  "Mary Warburton," said he at length.

  "Certainly," said she. "I'll tell your chauffeur."

  "The initials will correspond--in case--"

  "Yes," said she. "I'd noticed that."

  "We will see what your typewriting machine is capable of, and then I'lldecide about it."

  "Certainly."

  "Please take down some letters."

  "Mr. Carrel Quire always told me what he wanted said, and I wrote theletters myself."

  "That is very interesting," said Mr. Prohack. "Perhaps you can manage tosit at the dressing-table. Mind that necklace there. It's supposed to berather valuable. Put it in the case, and put the case in the middledrawer."

  "Don't you keep it in a safe?" said Miss Warburton, obeying.

  "All questions about necklaces should be addressed direct to Mrs.Prohack."

  "I prefer to take down on my knee," said Miss Warburton, opening hernotebook, "if I am to take down."

  "You are. Now. 'Dear Madam. I am requested by my Lords of the Treasuryto forward to you the enclosed cheque for one hundred pounds for yourPrivy Purse.' New line. 'I am also to state that no account ofexpenditure will be required.' New line. 'Be good enough to acknowledgereceipt. Your obedient servant. To Miss Prohack, Grand Babylon Hotel.'Got it? 'Dear Sir. With reference to the action instituted by yourcompany against Miss Mimi Winstock, and to my claim against your companyunder my accident policy. I have seen the defendant. She had evidentlybehaved in an extremely foolish not to say criminal way; but as theresult of a personal appeal from her I have decided to settle the matterprivately. Please therefore accept this letter as a release from allyour liabilities to me, and also as my personal undertaking to pay allthe costs of the action on both sides. Yours faithfully. Secretary,World's Car Insurance Corporation.' Wipe your eyes, wipe your eyes, MissWarburton. You're wetting the notebook."

  "I was only crying because you're so kind. I know I _did_ behave in acriminal way."

  "Just so, Miss Warburton. But it will be more convenient for me and foryou too if you can arrange to cry in your own time and not in mine." Andhe continued to address her, in his own mind: "Don't think I haven'tnoticed your aspiring nose and your ruthless little lips and your giftfor conspiracy and your wonderful weakness for tears! And don't confuseme with Mr. Carrel Quire, because we're two quite different people!You've got to be useful to me." And in a more remote part of his mind,he continued still further: "You're quite a decent sort of child, onlyyou've been spoilt. I'll unspoil you. You've taken your first medicinerather well. I like you, or I shall like you before I've done with you."

  Miss Warburton wiped her eyes.

  "You understand," Mr. Prohack proceeded aloud, "that you're engaged asmy confidential secretary. And when I say 'confidential' I mean'confidential' in the fullest sense."

  "Oh, quite," Miss Warburton concurred almost passionately.

  "And you aren't anybody else's secretary but mine. You may pretend to beeverybody else's secretary, you may pretend as much as you please--itmay even be advisable to do so--but the fact must always remain that youare mine alone. You have to protect my interests, and let me warn youthat my interests are sometimes very strange, not to say peculiar. Getwell into your head that there are not ten commandments in my service.There is only one: to watch over my interests, to protect them againsteverybody else in the whole world. In return for a living wage, you giveme the most absolute loyalty, a loyalty which sticks at nothing,nothing, nothing."

  "Oh, Mr. Prohack!" replied Mary Warburton, smiling simply. "You needn'ttell me all that. I entirely understand. It's the usual thing forconfidential secretaries, isn't it?"

  "And now," Mr. Prohack went on, ignoring her. "This being made perfectlyclear, go into the boudoir--that's the room through there--and bring mehere all the parcels lying about. Our next task is to check theaccuracy of several of the leading tradesmen in the West End."

  "I think there are one or two more parcels that have been delivered thismorning, in the hall," said Miss Warburton. "Perhaps I had better fetchthem."

  "Perhaps you had."

  In a few minutes, Miss Warburton, by dint of opening parcels, hadtransformed the bedroom into a composite of the principal men's shops inPiccadilly and Bond Street. Mr. Prohack recoiled before the chromaticshow and also before the prospect of Eve's views on the show.

  "Take everything into the boudoir," said he, "and arrange them under thesofa. It's important that we should not lose our heads in this crisis.When you go out to lunch you will buy some foolscap paper and thisafternoon you will make a schedule of the goods, divided according tothe portions of the human frame which they are intended to conceal oradorn. What are you laughing at, Miss Warburton?"

  "You are so amusing, Mr. Prohack."

  "I may be amusing, but I am not susceptible to the flattery of giggling.Endeavour not to treat serious subjects lightly."

  "I don't see any boots."

  "Neither do I. You will telephone to the bootmaker's, and to mytailor's; also to Sir Paul Spinner and Messrs. Smathe and Smathe. Butbefore that I will just dictate a few more letters."

  "Certainly."

  When he had finished dictating, Mr. Prohack said:

  "I shall now get up. Go downstairs and ask Machin--that's theparlourmaid--to show you the breakfast-room. The breakfast-room isbehind the dining-room, and is so called because it is never employedfor breakfast. It exists in all truly London houses, and is perfectlyuseless in all of them except those occupied by dentists, who use it fortheir beneficent labours in taking things from, or adding things to, thebodies of their patients. The breakfast-room in this house will be thesecretary's room--your room if you continue to give me satisfaction.Remove that typewriting machine from here, and arrange your roomaccording to your desire.... And I say, Miss Warburton."

  "Yes, Mr. Prohack," eagerly responded the secretary, pausing at thedoor.

  "Yesterday I gave you a brief outline of your duties. But I omitted oneexceedingly important item--almost as important as not falling in lovewith my son. You will have to keep on good terms with Machin. Machin isindispensable and irreplaceable. I could get forty absolutely loyalsecretaries while my wife was unsuccessfully searching for anotherMachin."

  "I have an infallible way with parlourmaids," said Miss Warburton.

  "What is that?"

  "I listen to their grievances and to their love-affairs."

  Mr. Prohack, though fatigued, felt himself to be inordinately well, andhe divined that this felicity was due to the exercise of dancing on theprevious night, following upon the Turkish bath. He had not felt so wellfor many years. He laughed to himself at intervals as he performed histoilette, and knew not quite why. His secretary was just like a new toyto him, offering many of the advantages of official life and routinewithout any of the drawbacks. At half past eleven he descended, wearingone or two of the more discreet of his new possessions, and with thesensation of having already transacted a
good day's work, into thebreakfast-room and found Miss Warburton and Machin in converse. Machinfeverishly poked the freshly-lit fire and then, pretending to haveurgent business elsewhere, left the room.

  "Here are some particulars of a house in Manchester Square," said Mr.Prohack. "Please read them."

  Miss Warburton complied.

  "It seems really very nice," said she. "Very nice indeed."

  "Does it? Now listen to me. That house is apparently the most practicaland the most beautiful house in London. Judging from the description, itdeserves to be put under a glass-case in a museum and labelled 'theideal house.' There is no fault to be found with that house, and Ishould probably take it at once but for one point. I don't want it. I donot want it. Do I make myself clear? I have no use for it whatever."

  "Then you've inspected it."

  "I have not. But I don't want it. Now a determined effort will shortlybe made to induce me to take that house. I will not go into details orpersonalities. I say merely that a determined effort will shortly bemade to force me to act against my will and my wishes. This effort mustbe circumvented. In a word, the present is a moment when I may need theunscrupulous services of an utterly devoted confidential secretary."

  "What am I to do?"

  "I haven't the slightest idea. All I know is that my existence must noton any account be complicated, and that the possession of that housewould seriously complicate it."

  "Will you leave the matter to me, Mr. Prohack?"

  "What shall you do?"

  "Wouldn't it be better for you not to know what I should do?" MissWarburton glanced at him oddly. Her glance was agreeable, and yetdisconcerting. The attractiveness of the young woman seemed to beaccentuated. The institution of the confidential secretary wasmagnified, in the eyes of Mr. Prohack, into one of the greatestachievements of human society.

  "Not at all," said he, in reply. "You are under-rating my capabilities,for I can know and not know simultaneously."

  "Well," said Miss Warburton. "You can't take an old house without havingthe drains examined, obviously. Supposing the report on the drains wasunfavourable?"

  "Do you propose to tamper with the drains?"

  "Certainly not. I shouldn't dream of doing anything so disgraceful. ButI might tamper with the surveyor who made the report on the drains."

  "Say no more," Mr. Prohack adjured her. "I'm going out."

  And he went out, though he had by no means finished instructing MissWarburton in the art of being his secretary. She did not even know whereto find the essential tools of her calling, nor yet the names oftradesmen to whom she had to telephone. He ought to have stayed in ifonly to present his secretary to his wife. But he went out--to reflectin private upon her initiative, her ready resourcefulness, her greatgift for conspiracy. He had to get away from her. The thought of herinduced in him qualms of trepidation. Could he after all manage her?What a loss would she be to Mr. Carrel Quire! Nevertheless she wascapable of being foolish. It was her foolishness that had transferredher from Mr. Carrel Quire to himself.

  III

  Mr. Prohack went out because he was drawn out, by the force of anattraction which he would scarcely avow even to himself,--a mysteriousand horrible attraction which, if he had been a logical human being likethe rest of us, ought to have been a repulsion for him.

  And as he was walking abroad in the pleasant foggy sunshine of the WestEnd streets, a plutocratic idler with nothing to do but yield to strangeimpulses, he saw on a motor-bus the placard of a financial daily paperbearing the line: "The Latest Oil Coup." He immediately wanted to buythat paper. As a London citizen he held the opinion that whenever hewanted a thing he ought to be able to buy it at the next corner. Yet nowhe looked in every direction but could see no symptom of a newspapershop anywhere. The time was morning--for the West End it was earlymorning--and there were newsboys on the pavements, but by a curiousanomaly they were selling evening and not morning newspapers. Daringlyhe asked one of these infants for the financial daily; the infantsniggered and did no more. Another directed him to a shop up an alleyoff the Edgware Road. The shopman doubted the existence of any suchfinancial daily as Mr. Prohack indicated, apparently attaching noimportance to the fact that it was advertised on every motor-bustravelling along the Edgware Road, but he suggested that if it didexist, it might just conceivably be purchased at the main bookstall atPaddington Station. Determined to obtain the paper at all costs, Mr.Prohack stopped a taxi-cab and drove to Paddington, squanderingeighteenpence on the journey, and reflecting as he rolled forward uponthe primitiveness of a so-called civilisation in which you could not buya morning paper in the morning without spending the whole morning overthe transaction--and reflecting also upon the disturbing fact that afterone full day of its practice, his scheme of scientific idleness had goneall to bits. He got the paper, and read therein a very exciting accountof Sir Paul Spinner's deal in oil-lands. The amount of Paul's profit wasnot specified, but readers were given to understand that it was enormousand that Paul had successfully bled the greatest Oil Combine in theworld. The article, though discreet and vague in phraseology, was wellworth a line on any placard. It had cost Mr. Prohack the price of acomplete Shakespere, but he did not call it dear. He threw the paperaway with a free optimistic gesture of delight. Yes, he had wisely puthis trust in old Paul and he was veritably a rich man--one who couldlook down on mediocre fortunes of a hundred thousand pounds or so.Civilisation was not so bad after all.

  Then the original attraction which had drawn him out of the houseresumed its pull.... Why did his subconscious feet take him in thedirection of Manchester Square? True, the Wallace Collection of picturesis to be found at Hertford House, Manchester Square, and Mr. Prohack hadalways been interested in pictures! Well, if he did happen to findhimself in Manchester Square he might perhaps glance at the exterior ofthe dwelling which his son desired to plant upon him and his wifedesired him to be planted with.... It was there right enough. It had notbeen spirited away in the night hours. He recognised the number. Anenormous house; the largest in the Square after Hertford House. Overits monumental portico was an enormous sign, truthfully describing it as"this noble mansion." As no automobile stood at the front-door Mr.Prohack concluded that his wife's visit of inspection was over.Doubtless she was seeking him at home at that moment to the end ofpersuading him by her soft, unscrupulous arts to take the noble mansion.

  The front-door was ajar. Astounding carelessness on the part of thecaretaker! Mr. Prohack's subconscious legs carried him into the house.The interior was amazing. Mr. Prohack had always been interested, notonly in pictures, but in furniture. Pictures and furniture might havebeen called the weakness to which his circumstances had hithertocompelled him to be too strong to yield. He knew a good picture, and heknew a good piece of furniture, when he saw them. The noble mansion wasfull of good pictures and good furniture. Evidently it had been the homeof somebody who had both fine tastes and the means to gratify them. Andthe place was complete. Nothing had been removed, and nothing had beenprotected against the grimy dust of London. The occupiers might havewalked out of it a few hours earlier. The effect of dark richness in thehalf-shuttered rooms almost overwhelmed Mr. Prohack. Nobody preventing,he climbed the beautiful Georgian staircase, which was carpeted with aseries of wondrous Persian carpets laid end to end. A woman in a blackapron appeared in the hall from the basement, gazed at Mr. Prohack'smounting legs, and said naught. On the first-floor was the drawing-room,a magnificent apartment exquisitely furnished in Louis Quinze. Mr.Prohack blenched. He had expected nothing half so marvellous. Was itpossible that he could afford to take this noble mansion and live in it?It was more than possible; it was sure.

  Mr. Prohack had a foreboding of a wild, transient impulse to take it.The impulse died ere it was born. No further complications of hisexistence were to be permitted; he would fight against them to the lastdrop of his blood. And the complications incident to residence in suchan abode would be enormous. Still, he thought that he might as well seethe whole house, and he
proceeded upstairs, wondering how many peoplethere were in London who possessed the taste to make, and the money tomaintain, such a home. Even the stairs from the first to the secondfloor, were beautiful, having a lovely carpet, lovely engravings on thewalls, and a delightful balustrade. On the second-floor landing were twotables covered with objects of art, any of which Mr. Prohack might havepocketed and nobody the wiser; the carelessness that left the placeunguarded was merely prodigious.

  Mr. Prohack heard a sound; it might have been the creak of a floor-boardor the displacement of a piece of furniture. Startled, he looked througha half-open door into a small room. He could see an old gilt mirror overa fire-place; and in the mirror the images of the upper portions of ayoung man and a young woman. The young woman was beyond question SissieProhack. The young man, he decided after a moment of hesitation--for hecould distinguish only a male overcoated back in the glass--was OswaldMorfey. The images were very close together. They did not move. Then Mr.Prohack overheard a whisper, but did not catch its purport. Then theimage of the girl's face began to blush; it went redder and redder, andthe crimson seemed to flow downwards until the exposed neck blushedalso. A marvellous and a disconcerting spectacle. Mr. Prohack felt thathe himself was blushing. Then the two images blended, and the girl'shead and hat seemed to be agitated as by a high wind. And then bothimages moved out of the field of the mirror.

  The final expression on the girl's face as it vanished was one of themost exquisite things that Mr. Prohack had ever witnessed. It broughtthe tears to his eyes. Nevertheless he was shocked.

  His mind ran:

  "That fellow has kissed my daughter, and he has kissed her for the firsttime. It is monstrous that any girl, and especially my daughter, shouldbe kissed for the first time. I have not been consulted, and I had notthe slightest idea that matters had gone so far. Her mother has probablybeen here, with Charlie, and gone off leaving these doves together.Culpable carelessness on her part. Talk about mothers! No father wouldhave been guilty of such negligence. The affair must be stopped. Itamounts to an outrage."

  A peculiar person, Mr. Prohack! No normal father could have had suchthoughts. Mr. Prohack could of course have burst in upon the pair andsmashed an idyll to fragments. But instead of doing so he turned awayfrom the idyll and descended the stairs as stealthily as he could.

  Nobody challenged his exit. In the street he breathed with relief as ifhe had escaped from a house of great peril; but he did not feel safeuntil he had lost himself in the populousness of Oxford Street.

  "For social and family purposes," he reflected, "I have not seen thatkiss. I cannot possibly tell them, or tell anybody, that I spied upontheir embrace. To put myself right I ought to have called out a greetingthe very instant I spotted them. But I did not call out a greeting. Byfailing to do so I put myself in a false position.... How shall I getofficial news of that kiss? Shall I ever get news of it?"

  He had important business to transact with tradesmen. He could not doit. On leaving home he had not decided whether he would lunchdomestically or at the Grand Babylon. He now perceived that he could doneither. He would lunch at one of his clubs. No! He could not bringhimself to lunch at either club. He could face nobody. He resembled aman who was secretly carrying a considerable parcel of high explosive.He wandered until he could wander no more, and then he entered atea-shop that was nearly full of young girls. It was a new world to him.He saw "Mutton pie 8d" on the menu and ordered it haphazard. Hediscovered to his astonishment that he was hungry. Having eaten themutton pie, he ordered a second one, and ate it. The second mutton pieseemed to endow the eater with the faculty of vision--a result whichperhaps no other mutton pie had ever before in the whole annals ofeating achieved. He felt much better. He was illuminated by a large,refreshing wisdom, which thus expressed itself in his excited brain:

  "After all, I suppose it's not the first or the only instance of a girlbeing kissed by a man. Similar incidents must occur quite often in thehistory of the human race."

  IV

  When he returned home his house seemed to be pitiably small, cramped,and lacking in rich ornament; it seemed to be no sort of a house for aman with twenty thousand a year. But he was determined to love his houseat all costs, and never to leave it. The philosopher within himself toldhim that happiness does not spring from large houses built with hands.And his own house was bright that afternoon; he felt as soon as heentered it that it was more bright than usual. The reason wasimmediately disclosed. Sissie was inside it. She had come for somebelongings and to pay a visit to her mother.

  "My word!" she greeted her father in the drawing-room, where she wasstrumming while Eve leaned lovingly on the piano. "My word! We are finewith our new private secretary!"

  Not a sign on that girl's face, nor in her demeanour, that she had anamorous secret, that something absolutely unprecedented had happened toher only a few hours earlier! The duplicity of women astonished even thephilosopher in Mr. Prohack.

  "Will she mention it or won't she?" Mr. Prohack asked himself; and thenbegan to equal Sissie in duplicity by demanding of his women in a toneof raillery what they thought of the new private secretary. He reflectedthat he might as well know the worst at once.

  "She'll do," said Sissie gaily, and Eve said: "She seems very willing tooblige."

  "Ah!" Mr. Prohack grew alert. "She's been obliging you already, hasshe?"

  "Well," said Eve. "It was about the new house--"

  "What new house?"

  "But you know, darling. Charlie mentioned it to you last night, and Itold you that I was going to look at it this morning."

  "Oh! _That_!" Mr. Prohack ejaculated disdainfully.

  "I've seen it. I've been all over it, and it's simply lovely. I neversaw anything equal to it."

  "Of course!"

  "And so cheap!"

  "Of course!"

  "But it's ripping, dad, seriously."

  "Seriously ripping, it is? Well, so far as I am concerned I shall let itrip."

  "I rushed back here as soon as I'd seen it," Eve proceeded, quietlyignoring the last remark. "But you'd gone out without saying where.Nobody knew where you'd gone. It was very awkward, because if we wantthis house we've got to decide at once--at latest in three days, Charliesays. Miss Warburton--that's her name, isn't it?--Miss Warburton had avery bright idea. She seems to know quite a lot about property. Shethought of the drains. She said the first thing would be to have thedrains inspected, and that if there was any hurry the surveyors ought tobe instructed instantly. She knew some surveyor people, and so she'sgone out to see the agents and get permission from them for thesurveyors to inspect, and she'll see the surveyors at the same time. Shesays we ought to have the report by to-morrow afternoon. She's veryenterprising."

  The enterprisingness of Miss Warburton frightened Mr. Prohack. She hadacted exactly as he would have wished--only better; evidently she wasworking out his plot against the house in the most efficient manner.Yet he was frightened. So much so that he could find nothing to sayexcept: "Indeed!"

  "You never told me she used to be with Mr. Carrel Quire and is relatedto the Paulle family," observed Eve, mingling a mild reproach withjoyous vivacity, as if saying: "Why did you keep this titbit from me?"

  "I must now have a little repose," said Mr. Prohack.

  "We'll leave you," Eve said, eager to be agreeable. "You must be tired,you poor dear. I'm just going out to shop with Sissie. I'm not sure if Ishall be in for tea, but I will be if you think you'll be lonely."

  "Did you do much entertaining at lunch, young woman?" Mr. Prohack asked.

  "Charlie had several people--men--but I really don't know who they were.And Ozzie Morfey came. And permit me to inform you that Charlie wassimply knocked flat by my qualities as a hostess. Do you know what hesaid to me afterwards? He said: 'That lunch was a bit of all right,kid.' Enormous from Charlie, wasn't it?"

  Mother and daughter went out arm in arm like two young girls. Beyondquestion they were highly pleased with themselves and the world. Evereturned aft
er a moment.

  "Are you comfortable, dear? I've told Machin you mustn't on any accountbe disturbed. Charlie's borrowed the car. We shall get a taxi in theBayswater Road." She bent down and seemed to bury her soft lips in hischeek. She was beginning to have other interests than himself. And sinceshe had nothing now to worry about, in a maternal sense, she had becomea child. She was fat--at any rate nobody could describe her as less thanplump--and over forty, but a child, an exquisite child. He magnificentlylet her kiss him. However, he knew that she knew that she was his solepassion. She whispered most intimately and persuasively into his ear:

  "Shall we have a look at that house to-morrow morning, just you and I?You'll love the furniture."

  "Perhaps," he replied. What else could he reply? He very much desired tohave a talk with her about Sissie and the fellow Morfey; but he couldnot broach the subject because he could not tell her in cold blood thathe had seen Sissie in Morfey's arms. To do so would have an effect likesetting fire to the home. Unless, of course, Sissie had already confidedin her mother? Was it conceivable that Eve had a secret from him? It wascertainly conceivable that he had a secret from Eve. Not only was hehiding from her his knowledge of the startling development in therelations between Sissie and Morfey,--he had not even told her that hehad seen the house in Manchester Square. He was leading a doublelife,--consequence of riches! Was she?

  As soon as she had softly closed the door he composed himself, for hewas in fact considerably exhausted. Remembering a conversation at theclub with a celebrated psycho-analyst about the possibilities ofauto-suggestion, he strove to empty his mind and then to repeat tohimself very rapidly in a low murmur: "You will sleep, you will sleep,you will sleep, you will sleep," innumerable times. But the incantationwould not work, probably because he could not keep his mind empty. Themysterious receptacle filled faster than he could empty it. It filledtill it flowed over with the flooding realisation of the awfulcomplexity of existence. He longed to maintain its simplicity, wellaware that his happiness would result from simplicity alone. Butexistence flatly refused to be simple. He desired love in a cottage withEve. He could have bought a hundred cottages, all in ideal surroundings.The mere fact, however, that he was in a position to buy a hundredcottages somehow made it impossible for him to devote himselfexclusively to loving Eve in one cottage....

  His imagination leaped over intervening events and he pictured thewedding of Sissie as a nightmare of complications--no matter whom shemarried. He loathed weddings. Of course a girl of Sissie's sense andmodernity ought to insist on being married in a registry office. Butwould she? She would not. For a month previous to marriage all girlscast off modernity and became Victorian. Yes, she would demand realorange-blossom and everything that went with it.... He got as far aswishing that Sissie might grow into an old maid, solely that he might bespared the wearing complications incident to the ceremony of marriage aspractised by intelligent persons in the twentieth century. His characterwas deteriorating, and he could not stop it from deteriorating....

  Then Sissie herself came very silently into the room.

  "Sit down, my dear. I want to talk to you," he said in his mostingratiating and sympathetic tones. And in quite another tone headdressed her silently: "It's time I taught you a thing or two, mywench."

  "Yes, father," she responded charmingly to his wily ingratiatingness,and sat down.

  "If you were the ordinary girl," he began, "I shouldn't say a word. Itwould be no use. But you aren't. And I flatter myself I'm not theordinary father. You are in love. Or you think you are. Which is thesame thing--for the present. It's a fine thing to be in love. I'm quiteserious. I like you tremendously just for being in love. Yes, I do. NowI know something about being in love. You've got enough imagination torealise that, and I want you to realise it. I want you to realise that Iknow a bit more about love than you do. Stands to reason, doesn't it?"

  "Yes, father," said Sissie, placidly respectful.

  "Love has got one drawback. It very gravely impairs the criticalfaculty. You think you can judge our friend Oswald with perfectimpartiality. You think you see him as he is. But if you will exerciseyour imagination you will admit that you can't. You perceive that, don'tyou?"

  "Quite, dad," the adorable child concurred.

  "Well, do you know anything about him, really?"

  "Not much, father."

  "Neither do I. I've nothing whatever against him. But I shouldn't beplaying straight with you if I didn't tell you that at the club he's notgreatly admired. And a club is a very good judge of a man, the bestjudge of a man. And then as regards his business. Supposing you were notin love with him, should you like his business? You wouldn't. Naturally.There are other things, but I won't discuss them now. All I suggest toyou is that you should go a bit slow. Exercise caution. Controlyourself. Test him a little. If you and I weren't the greatest pals Ishouldn't be such an ass as to talk in this strain to you. But I knowyou won't misunderstand me. I know you know there's absolutely noconventional nonsense about me, just as I know there's absolutely noconventional nonsense about you. I'm perfectly aware that the old can'tteach the young, and that oftener than not the young are right and theold wrong. But it's not a question of old and young between you and me.It's a question of two friends--that's all."

  "Dad," said she, "you're the most wonderful dad that ever was. Oh! Ifeverybody would talk like that!"

  "Not at all! Not at all!" he deprecated, delighted with himself and her."I'm simply telling you what you know already. I needn't say any more.You'll do exactly as you think best, and whatever you do will please me.I don't want you to be happy in my way--I want you to be happy in yourown way. Possibly you'll decide to tell Mr. Morfey to wait for threemonths."

  "I most decidedly shall, dad," Sissie interrupted him, "and I'm mostfrightfully obliged to you."

  He had always held that she was a marvellous girl, and here was theproof. He had spoken with the perfection of tact and sympathy andwisdom, but his success astonished him. At this point he perceived thatSissie was not really sitting in the chair at all and that the chair wasempty. So that the exhibition of sagacity had been entirely wasted.

  "Anyhow I've had a sleep," said the philosopher in him.

  The door opened. Machin appeared, defying her mistress's orders.

  "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but a Mr. Morfey is on the telephone andasks whether it would be convenient for you to see him to-night. He saysit's urgent." Mr. Prohack braced himself, but where his stomach had beenthere was a void.

  V

  "Had an accident to your eye-glass?" asked Mr. Prohack, shaking handswith Oswald Morfey, when the latter entered, by appointment, Mr.Prohack's breakfast-room after dinner. Miss Warburton having gone home,Mr. Prohack had determined to employ her official room for formalinterviews. With her woman's touch she had given it an air of businesswhich pleasantly reminded him of the Treasury.

  Ozzie was not wearing an eye-glass, and the absence of the broad blackribbon that usually ran like a cable-connection between his eye and hissupra-umbilical region produced the disturbing illusion that he hadforgotten an essential article of attire.

  "Yes," Ozzie replied, opening his eyes with that mien of surprise thatwas his response to all questions, even the simplest. "Miss Sissie hascracked it."

  "I'm very sorry my daughter should be so clumsy."

  "It was not exactly clumsiness. I offered her the eye-glass to do whatshe pleased with, and she pleased to break it."

  "Surely an impertinence?"

  "No. A favour. Miss Sissie did not care for my eye-glass."

  "You must be considerably incommoded."

  "No. The purpose of my eye-glass was decorative, not optical." Ozziesmiled agreeably, though nervously.

  Mr. Prohack was conscious of a certain surprising sympathy for thischubby simpering young man with the peculiar vocation, whom but latelyhe had scorned and whom on one occasion he had described as a perfectass.

  "Well, shall we sit down?" suggested the elder, whom the you
nger'snervousness had put into an excellent state of easy confidence.

  "The fact is," said Ozzie, obeying, "the fact is that I've come to seeyou about Sissie. I'm very anxious to marry her, Mr. Prohack."

  "Indeed! Then you must excuse this old velvet coat. If I'd had notice ofthe solemnity of your visit, my dear Morfey, I'd have met you in adinner jacket. May I just put one question? Have you kissed Sissiealready?"

  "I--er--have."

  "By force or by mutual agreement?"

  "Neither."

  "She made no protest?"

  "No."

  "The reverse rather?"

  "Yes."

  "Then why do you come here to me?"

  "To get your consent."

  "I suppose you arranged with Sissie that you should come here?"

  "Yes, I did. We thought it would be best if I came alone."

  "Well, all I can say is that you're a very old-fashioned pair. I'mafraid that you must have forgotten to alter your date calendar when thetwentieth century started. Let me assure you that this is not by anymeans the nineteenth. I admit that I only altered my own date calendarthis afternoon, and even then only as the result of an unusual dream."

  "Yes?" said Ozzie politely, and he said nothing else, but it seemed toMr. Prohack that Ozzie was thinking: "This queer old stick is takingadvantage of his position to make a fool of himself in his queer oldway."

  "Let us examine the circumstances," Mr. Prohack proceeded. "You want tomarry Sissie. Therefore you respect her. Therefore you would not haveinvited her to marry unless you had been reasonably sure that youpossessed the brains and the material means to provide for her physicaland moral comfort not merely during the next year but till the end ofher life. It would be useless, not to say impolite, for me to questionyou as to your situation and your abilities, because you are convincedabout both, and if you failed to convince me about both you would leavehere perfectly sure that the fault was mine and not yours, and you wouldpursue your plans just the same. Moreover, you are a man of theworld--far more a man of the world than I am myself--and you areunquestionably the best judge of your powers to do your duty towards awife. Of course some might argue that I, being appreciably older thanyou, am appreciably wiser than you and that my opinion on vital mattersis worth more than yours. But you know, and perhaps I know too, that ingrowing old a man does not really become wiser; he simply acquires adifferent sort of wisdom--whether it is a better or a worse sort nobodycan decide. All we know is that the extremely young and the extremelyold are in practice generally foolish. Which leads you nowhere at all.But looking at history we perceive that the ideas of the moderatelyyoung have always triumphed against the ideas of the moderately old. Andhappily so, for otherwise there could be no progress. Hence the balanceof probability is that, assuming you and I were to differ, you would bemore right than I should be."

  "But I hope that we do not differ, sir," said Ozzie. And Mr. Prohackfound satisfaction in the naturalness, the freedom from pose, of Ozzie'sdiffident and disconcerted demeanour. His sympathy for the young man wasincreased by the young man's increasing consternation.

  "Again," resumed Mr. Prohack, ignoring Ozzie's hope. "Take the case ofSissie herself. Sissie's education was designed and superintended bymyself. The supreme aim of education should be to give sound judgment inthe great affairs of life, and moral stamina to meet the crises whicharrive when sound judgment is falsified by events. If I were to tell youthat in my opinion Sissie's judgment of you as a future husband wasunsound, it would be equivalent to admitting that my education of Sissiehad been unsound. And I could not possibly admit such a thing. Moreover,just as you are a man of the world, so Sissie is a woman of the world.By heredity and by natural character she is sagacious, and she hasacquainted herself with all manner of things as to which I am entirelyignorant. Nor can I remember any instance of her yielding, from genuineconviction, to my judgment when it was opposed to hers. From all whichit follows, my dear Morfey, that your mission to me here this evening isa somewhat illogical, futile, and unnecessary mission, and that themissioner must be either singularly old-fashioned and conventional--orlaughing in his sleeve at me. No!" Mr. Prohack with a nineteenth centurywave of the hand deprecated Ozzie's interrupting protest. "No! There isa third alternative, and I accept it. You desired to show me a courtesy.I thank you."

  "But have you no questions to ask me?" demanded Ozzie.

  "Yes," said Mr. Prohack. "How did you first make the acquaintance of mydaughter?"

  "Do you mean to say you don't know? Hasn't Sissie ever told you?"

  "Never. What is more, she has never mentioned your name in anyconversation until somebody else had mentioned it. Such is the result ofmy educational system, and the influence of the time-spirit."

  "Well, I'm dashed!" exclaimed Ozzie sincerely.

  "I hope not, Morfey. I hope not, if by dashed you mean 'damned.'"

  "But it was the most wonderful meeting, Mr. Prohack," Ozzie burst out,and he was in such an enthusiasm that he almost forgot to lisp. "Youknew I was in M.I. in the war, after my trench fever."

  "M.I., that is to say, Secret Service."

  "Yes. Secret Service if you like. Well, sir, I was doing some work inthe East End, in a certain foreign community, and I had to get awayquickly, and so I jumped into a motor-van that happened to be passing.That van was driven by Sissie!"

  "An example of fact imitating fiction!" remarked Mr. Prohack, seeking,not with complete success, to keep out of his voice the emotionengendered in him by Ozzie's too brief recital. "Now that's onequestion, and you have answered it brilliantly. My second and lastquestion is this: Are you in love with Sissie--"

  "Please, Mr. Prohack!" Ozzie half rose out of his chair.

  "Or do you love her? The two things are very different."

  "I beg your pardon, sir. I hadn't quite grasped," said Ozzieapologetically, subsiding. "I quite see what you mean. I'm both."

  "You are a wonder!" Mr. Prohack murmured.

  "Anyway, sir, I'm glad you don't object to our engagement."

  "My dear Oswald," said Mr. Prohack in a new tone. "Do you imagine thatafter my daughter had expressed her view of you by kissing you I couldfail to share that view. You have a great opinion of Sissie, but I doubtwhether your opinion of her is greater than mine. We will now have alittle whiskey together."

  Ozzie's chubby face shone as in his agreeable agitation he searched forthe eye-glass ribbon that was not there.

  "Well, sir," said he, beaming. "This interview has not been at all likewhat I expected."

  "Nor like what I expected either," said Mr. Prohack. "But who canforesee the future?" And he added to himself: "Could I foresee when Icalled this youth a perfect ass that in a very short time I should bereceiving him, not unpleasantly, as a prospective son-in-law? Life ismarvellous."

  At the same moment Mrs. Prohack entered the room.

  "Oh!" cried she, affecting to be surprised at the presence of Ozzie.

  "Wife!" said Mr. Prohack, "Mr. Oswald Morfey has done you the honour tosolicit the hand of your daughter in marriage. You are staggered!

  "How ridiculous you are, Arthur!" said Mrs. Prohack, and impulsivelykissed Ozzie.

  VI

  The wedding festivities really began the next evening with a familydinner to celebrate Sissie's betrothal. The girl arrived magnificentfrom the Grand Babylon, escorted by her lover, and found Mrs. Prohackequally magnificent--indeed more magnificent by reason of the pearlnecklace. It seemed to Mr. Prohack that Eve had soon become quite usedto that marvellous necklace; he had already had to chide her for leavingit about. Ozzie also was magnificent; even lacking his eye-glass andribbon he was magnificent. Mr. Prohack, esteeming that a quiet domesticmeal at home demanded no ceremony, had put on his old velvet, but Evehad sharply corrected his sense of values--so shrewishly indeed thatnobody would have taken her for the recent recipient of a marvellousnecklace at his hands--and he had yielded to the extent of adinner-jacket. Charlie had not yet come. Since the previous afternoon hehad been o
ut of town on mighty enterprises, but Sissie had seen himreturn to the hotel before she left it, and he was momently expected.Mr. Prohack perceived that Eve was treating Ozzie in advance as her son,and Ozzie was responding heartily: a phenomenon which Mr. Prohack inspite of himself found agreeable. Sissie showed more reserve than hermother towards Ozzie; but then Sissie was a proud thing, which Eve neverwas. Mr. Prohack admitted privately that he was happy--yes, he was happyin the betrothal, and he had most solemnly announced and declared thathe would have naught to do with the wedding beyond giving a marriagegift to his daughter and giving his daughter to Ozzie. And when Sissiesaid that as neither she nor Ozzie had much use for the state of beingmerely engaged the wedding would occur very soon, Mr. Prohack rejoicedat the prospect of the upset being so quickly over. After the emotionsand complications of the wedding he would settle down tosimplicity,--luxurious possibly, but still simplicity: the plain butperfect. And let his fortune persist in accumulating, well it mustaccumulate and be hanged to it!

  "But what about getting a house?" he asked his daughter.

  "Oh, we shall live in Ozzie's flat," said Sissie.

  "Won't it be rather small?"

  "The smaller the better," said Sissie. "It will match our income."

  "Oh, my dear girl," Eve protested, with a glance at Mr. Prohack toindicate that for the asking Sissie could have all the income shewanted. "And I'll give you an idea," Eve brightly added. "You can have_this_ house rent free."

  Sissie shook her head.

  "Don't make so sure that they can have this house," said Mr. Prohack.

  "But, Arthur! You've agreed to go and look at Manchester Square! Andit's all ready excepting the servants. I'm told that if you don't wantless than seven servants, including one or two menservants, there's nodifficulty about servants at all. I shall be very disappointed if wedon't have the wedding from Manchester Square."

  Mr. Prohack writhed, though he knew himself safe. Seven servants; twomenservants? No! And again no! No complications!

  "I shall only agree to Manchester Square," said he with firmness andsolemnity, "subject to the drains being all right. Somebody in the placemust show a little elementary sagacity and restraint."

  "But the drains are bound to be all right!"

  "I hope so," said the deceitful father. "And I believe they will be. Butuntil we're sure--nothing can be done." And he laughed satanically tohimself.

  "Haven't you had the report yet?" Sissie complained. "Miss Warburton wasto try to get hold of it to-night."

  A moment later Machin, in a condition of high excitement due to thebetrothal, brought in a large envelope, saying that Miss Warburton hadjust left it. The envelope contained the report of Messrs. Doy and Doyon the drains of the noble mansion. Mr. Prohack read it, frowned, andpursed his judicial lips.

  "Read it, my dear," he said to Eve.

  Eve read that Messrs. Doy and Doy found themselves unable, after apreliminary inspection, which owing to their instructions to be speedyhad not been absolutely exhaustive, to certify the drains of the noblemansion. They feared the worst, but there was of course always a slighthope of the best, or rather the second best. (They phrased itdifferently but they meant that.) In the meantime they would awaitfurther instructions. Mr. Prohack reflected calmly: "My new secretary isan adept of the first conspiratorial order." Eve was shocked intosilence. (Doy and Doy used very thick and convincing note-paper.) Theentrance of Charlie loosed her tongue.

  "Charlie!" she cried. "The drains are all wrong. Look at this. Anddidn't you say the option expired to-morrow?"

  Charlie read the report.

  "Infernal rascals!" he muttered. "Whose doing is this? Who's beenworrying about drains?" He looked round accusingly.

  "I have," said Mr. Prohack bravely, but he could not squarely meet theboy's stern glance.

  "Well, dad, what did you take me for? Did you suppose I should buy anoption on a house without being sure of the drains? My first act was tohave the drains surveyed by Flockers, the first firm in London, and I'vegot their certificate. As for Doy and Doy, they're notorious. They wantto stop everybody else but themselves getting a commission on thathouse, and this--" he slapped the report--"this is how they're settingabout it."

  Eve adored her son.

  "You see," she said victoriously to Mr. Prohack, who secretly trembled.

  "I shall bring an action against Doy and Doy," Charlie continued. "I'llshow the whole rascally thing up."

  "I hope you'll do no such thing, my boy," said Mr. Prohack, foolishlyattempting the grandiose.

  "I most positively shall, dad."

  Mr. Prohack realised desperately that all was lost except honour, and hewas by no means sure about even honour.