CHAPTER II
AT NO. 8, BELITHA VILLAS
It was nine o'clock when Edward Povey pushed open the little iron gateof No. 8, Belitha Villas, Clapham, thereby announcing his return to theother eleven villas in the same row. For the twelve little iron gatesof Belitha Villas had each its own peculiar squeak and clang, a factthat added considerably to the scandal-mongering of the littlecommunity, and had caused a certain old reprobate at No. 3 to makeliberal use of the oil-can.
The master of No. 8 let himself in with his latch-key, and groping hisway down the dark and narrow passage pushed open the dining-room door.The room was in darkness save for a little evil-smelling oil-lamp whichshed a dismal radiance upon a cloth spread half across the table. Anunsympathetic slab of red topside of beef glared aggressively from adish in which the gravy had set to an unhealthy-looking fat-ringedjelly. This, flanked by the remains of a cottage loaf and a glass ofale, constituted the meal that Charlotte had left for the refreshmentof her lord and master. The ale had long been drawn, and stood deadand listless, showing a surface destitute of foam. Edward took onesip, then sat down and lit a cigarette.
His gaze wandered round the little room, the corners of which were in adingy shadow, and contrasted it in his mind with the grill-room of theBlue Dragon. And then his eye lighted upon a letter propped up againstthe brass lamp and put there evidently so that it should attract hisearly attention. He took it up and read it through, then with a fewuncomplimentary remarks he thrust it into his pocket and, taking up thelamp, made his way up-stairs. Another moment and he was back again,holding the lamp above his head and searching the dim corners of theroom.
A large unwieldy form that had been stretched upon a sofa in the shadowof the window recess roused itself and sat upright. It was clad in ashabby dressing-gown of some dark material and it had a stern eye.
"You're late, Edward."
"Yes, my dear, I am a little, I think. I thought you were up-stairs orhad run along to have a chat with Mrs. Oakley. I didn't see you in theshadow there."
"I saw _you_, Edward, and I saw you read the letter, and I--I heardwhat you called uncle, and I am not in the habit of running along andhaving a chat with my neighbours in the middle of the night."
"Well, my dear woman, I didn't know you were there when I read hisletter or I wouldn't have said it,--and it's only nine o'clock."
"That's enough, Edward; you've said what you've said. I'm astonished,but it can't be mended; they say men speak their true thoughts whenthey're in drink."
"I beg your pardon, Charlotte, I----"
"I'm not angry, Edward, but don't bang the lamp down like that, you'llsplash the oil out. I repeat I'm not angry, only sorry. When I see aman come home at this hour and turn up his nose at a glass of goodhonest ale I know what it means. But that doesn't excuse what you saidabout uncle."
"Well, he's a rotten nuisance. I know as well as you do that we can'tafford to upset the old chap, but he shouldn't come down on us likethis, especially----"
"Especially what----?"
"----especially when it's--it's not convenient. The fact is,Charlotte, we'll have to draw in our horns a bit. I've got the sack,my dear, the push--the bullet--after twenty-two years--curse 'em."
"Edward, you forget you're speaking to me."
"Oh, no, I don't, my dear. I'm talking exactly how I feel. I'll geteven with 'em yet. I'm going to draw some fresh beer."
When Edward returned, Charlotte had lit the hanging lamp with the greenshade over the centre of the table and had settled herself in the onesaddle-bag chair. Her husband sat opposite to her on a shiny horsehairstool and poured out a glass of foaming ale.
"Your health, my dear," he said, and drank deep.
"Umph! you seem to take it coolly, Edward; I suppose you think it's theeasiest thing in the world to get employment at your age. Look at Mr.Hardy at No. 4, out for fifteen months and speaks Portuguese, they say,like a native----"
Edward held up a protesting hand.
"Mr. Hardy, my dear, doesn't enter into this. What's happened to-dayhas made me do a bit of hard thinking. Forty's not old, Charlotte,it's young. I feel like a boy just let out of school. I'll be full ofschemes in a day or two."
Mrs. Povey waved her hands unconvincedly.
"But the present," she remarked with a sinister sweetness. "I supposethat hasn't entered into your head, eh? How about uncle? he's aself-made man and thinks everyone should succeed. When he hears you'resacked he'll cut us off without the shilling. He always says he's gotno use for failures."
Mrs. Povey paused, and getting no reply went on.
"Besides, I've written to Aunt Eliza plenty of times and said how wellwe were doing; in fact, I'm afraid I've exaggerated, and now, here heis coming to visit us. I'm afraid he'll have a sort of awakening--andso will we."
Sitting forward with his hands on his knees, Edward Povey was staringinto the little heap of cinders in the heart of which still glowed adull red. His lips were parted and his eyes were dilated. Mrs. Poveyleant over and shook him roughly by the shoulder. Then she moved thejug of beer out of his reach.
"Edward Povey, ain't you ashamed of yourself--the state you're in--goto bed--you hear me?"
Her husband drew his eyes from the contemplation of the fire andmotioned to his wife to sit down.
"It's working out," he said, and stretched out his hand for the jugthat wasn't there. Then he cleared his throat and told his wife abouthis adventure of the evening. Charlotte listened in a forbiddingsilence, and when he had finished:
"I don't know what all this gallivanting about in restaurants has to dowith me," she said sharply, "a few shillings a week--it'll hardly payyour fare."
"One moment, dear? You say that uncle comes to us on Monday--you knowwhat his visits are, only business trips, and at the most he'll staytwo nights. And, Charlotte, Mr. Kyser goes to Switzerland to-morrowfor a month--see?"
"See what?"
"My dear Charlotte, I've always thought that women as a class areinferior to us men, but for sheer unadulterated stupidity and criminaldensity commend me to Charlotte Povey."
"Edward--you dare to----"
"Dare, my dear, I dare anything. Fifteen years of being compared toBrown, Jones and Robinson and Hardy is enough, madam. The men you havethrown in my face are worms, Charlotte, _worms_. I dare anything," herepeated, and walked round the table and recovered the jug.
"Now listen, Charlotte," he went on more quietly, when he had reseatedhimself. "I said that uncle is coming to us on _Monday_, and thatKyser goes to Switzerland or Sweden, or somewhere _to-morrow_."
Mrs. Povey was leaning back in her chair, her eyes closed to denotethat to her at least the proceedings had lost all interest. Something,however, in the tone of her husband's voice brought her sharply toherself.
"Bushey is a fine place, nice and high, and healthy, Charlotte, andwill suit uncle down to the ground. He'll find us living there instyle--it'll impress him--and----"
"Edward! are you mad? Bushey--we don't live at Bushey."
Her husband smiled sarcastically.
"Don't we, my dear? really you surprise me--but we're going to,Charlotte, we're going to--for two nights only, as the play-bills say.We are going to _borrow_ Adderbury Cottage. The firm owes me a bit,and I'll take it out in Adderbury Cottages."
Charlotte was fully roused now.
"Edward Povey, I'll not do it."
Her husband brought his fist down on the table with a thump thatrattled the crockery and even infused a little flickering life into thesurface of the glass of dull supper beer.
"You'll do as I say, Charlotte; I'm master here now, and new broomssweep clean, you know. Now, put some more coals on, and go to bed."
With a strange sense of awe Mrs. Povey, for the first time in hermarried life, did as she was bid, and, with a look of wonderment on hervacant face, glided slowly from the room. For perhaps another hourEdward sat over the replenished fire elaborating his scheme. Really itwas ab
surdly simple; of risk there was none. A kind fate had shownthem a simple way out of their difficulties, and it would be criminalto ignore it. He knew Uncle Jasper far too well to think of admittingto him that he was a failure in the world. He knew, too, that the oldman held him in some little contempt, and he welcomed this chance ofshowing him his mistake. As for Charlotte, she had evidently committedherself pretty deeply in her correspondence with Aunt Eliza, and Edwardanticipated no sustained opposition from that quarter.
It was past midnight when Edward rose and opened the little fumed oakbureau that stood in the recess by the fire-place, and taking a sheetof the notepaper of Messrs. Kyser, Schultz & Company, wrote to Mr.Jasper Jarman telling him how glad Charlotte and himself were to hearthat he proposed paying them a visit. He said that the firm for whichhe had the honour to work had at last awakened to the value of hisservices, and that a substantial increase of salary had given him theopportunity to receive his dear wife's uncle in a manner more fitted tohis position, and that he remained with all good wishes, his uncle'smost affectionate nephew, Edward Povey.
The little iron gate creaked again that night, and as Edward droppedthe letter into the box at the corner of the terrace he told himselfthat his new life promised infinitely more possibilities than that towhich he had been accustomed for the past fifteen years.