The Beetle Part 26

'Is it possible that you imagine that I came here to see something killed?'

'Then for what did you come?'

I do not know what there was about the question which was startling, but as soon as it was out, she went a fiery red.

'Because I was a fool.'

I was bewildered. Either she had got out of the wrong side of bed, or I had,-or we both had. Here she was, a.s.sailing me, hammer and tongs, so far as I could see, for absolutely nothing.

'You are pleased to be satirical at my expense.'

'I should not dare. Your detection of me would be so painfully rapid.'

I was in no mood for jangling. I turned a little away from her.

Immediately she was at my elbow.

'Mr Atherton?'

'Miss Grayling.'

'Are you cross with me?'

'Why should I be? If it pleases you to laugh at my stupidity you are completely justified.'

'But you are not stupid.'

'No?-Nor you satirical.'

'You are not stupid,-you know you are not stupid; it was only stupidity on my part to pretend that you were.'

'It is very good of you to say so.-But I fear that I am an indifferent host. Although you would not care for an ill.u.s.tration, there may be other things which you might find amusing.'

'Why do you keep on snubbing me?'

'I keep on snubbing you!'

'You are always snubbing me,-you know you are. Some times I feel as if I hated you.'

'Miss Grayling!'

'I do! I do! I do!'

'After all, it is only natural.'

'That is how you talk,-as if I were a child, and you were,-oh I don't know what.-Well, Mr Atherton, I am sorry to be obliged to leave you. I have enjoyed my visit very much. I only hope I have not seemed too intrusive.'

She flounced-'flounce' was the only appropriate word!-out of the room before I could stop her. I caught her in the pa.s.sage.

'Miss Grayling, I entreat you-'

'Pray do not entreat me, Mr Atherton.' Standing still she turned to me. 'I would rather show myself to the door as I showed myself in, but, if that is impossible, might I ask you not to speak to me between this and the street?'

The hint was broad enough, even for me. I escorted her through the hall without a word,-in perfect silence she shook the dust of my abode from off her feet.

I had made a pretty mess of things. I felt it as I stood on the top of the steps and watched her going,-she was walking off at four miles an hour; I had not even ventured to ask to be allowed to call a hansom.

It was beginning to occur to me that this was a case in which another blow upon the river might be, to say the least of it, advisable-and I was just returning into the house with the intention of putting myself into my flannels, when a cab drew up, and old Lindon got out of it.

CHAPTER XX

A HEAVY FATHER

Mr Lindon was excited,-there is no mistaking it when he is, because with him excitement means perspiration, and as soon as he was out of the cab he took off his hat and began to wipe the lining.

'Atherton, I want to speak to you-most particularly-somewhere in private.'

I took him into my laboratory. It is my rule to take no one there; it is a workshop, not a playroom,-the place is private; but, recently, my rules had become dead letters. Directly he was inside, Lindon began puffing and stewing, wiping his forehead, throwing out his chest, as if he were oppressed by a sense of his own importance. Then he started off talking at the top of his voice,-and it is not a low one either.

'Atherton, I-I've always looked on you as a-a kind of a son.'

'That's very kind of you.'

'I've always regarded you as a-a level-headed fellow; a man from whom sound advice can be obtained when sound advice-is-is most to be desired.'

'That also is very kind of you.'

'And therefore I make no apology for coming to you at-at what may be regarded as a-a strictly domestic crisis; at a moment in the history of the Lindons when delicacy and common sense are-are essentially required.'

This time I contented myself with nodding. Already I perceived what was coming; somehow, when I am with a man I feel so much more clear-headed than I do when I am with a woman,-realise so much better the nature of the ground on which I am standing.

'What do you know of this man Lessingham?'

I knew it was coming.

'What all the world knows.'

'And what does all the world know of him?-I ask you that! A flashy, plausible, shallow-pated, carpet-bagger,-that is what all the world knows of him. The man's a political adventurer,-he s.n.a.t.c.hes a precarious, and criminal, notoriety, by trading on the follies of his fellow-countrymen. He is devoid of decency, dest.i.tute of principle, and impervious to all the feelings of a gentleman. What do you know of him besides this?'

'I am not prepared to admit that I do know that.'

'Oh yes you do!-don't talk nonsense!-you choose to screen the fellow! I say what I mean,-I always have said, and I always shall say.-What do you know of him outside politics,-of his family-of his private life?'

'Well,-not very much.'

'Of course you don't!-nor does anybody else! The man's a mushroom,-or a toadstool, rather!-sprung up in the course of a single night, apparently out of some dirty ditch.-Why, sir, not only is he without ordinary intelligence, he is even without a Brummagen subst.i.tute for manners.'

He had worked himself into a state of heat in which his countenance presented a not too agreeable a.s.sortment of scarlets and purples. He flung himself into a chair, threw his coat wide open, and his arms too, and started off again.