The Moving Finger Part 17

She welcomed him kindly, but without any enthusiasm. He felt from the first that he still had prejudices to conquer. He sat down by her side and commenced his task. Very wisely, he eliminated altogether the personal note from his talk. He showed her the books which he had brought, and he talked of them fluently and well. She became more and more interested. It was scarcely possible that she could refrain from showing it, for he spoke of the things which he knew, and things which the citizens of the world in every age have found fascinating. He seemed to her to have gone a little further into the great mysterious shadowland than anyone else--to have come a little nearer reading the great riddle. She was a good listener, and she interrupted him only once.

"But tell me this," she asked, towards the close of one of his arguments. "This apprehension which you say one must cultivate, to be able--how is it you put it?--to throw out feelers for the things which our ordinary senses cannot grasp--isn't it a matter largely of temperament?"

"One finds it difficult or easy to acquire," he answered, "according to one's temperament. A nervous, magnetic person, who is not afraid of solitude, of solitary thought, of taking the truth to his heart and wrestling with it--that person is, of course, always nearer the truth than the person of phlegmatic temperament, who has to struggle ever so hard to be conscious of anything not actually within the sphere of his physical apprehension. These things in our generation will have a great effect. In centuries to come, they will become less and less apparent. We move rapidly," he went on, "and I am still a young man.

Before I die, it is my ambition to leave behind me the first text-book on this new science, the first real and logical attempt to enunciate absolute laws."

"It is all very wonderful," she said, sighing gently. "Do you think that I shall understand any more about it when I have read these books?"

"I am sure that you will," he answered. "You have intelligence. You have sensibility. You are not afraid to believe--that is the trouble with most people."

"Answer me one question," she begged. "All these fortune-telling people who have sprung up round Bond Street--I mean the palmists and crystal-gazers, and people like that--do they proceed upon any knowledge whatever, or are they all absolute humbugs?"

"To the best of my belief," he answered fervently, "every one of them.

Personally, I haven't very much information, but it has not come under my notice that there is a single one of these people who even attempts to probe the future scientifically or even intelligently, according to the demands made upon them. They impose as much as they can upon the credulity of their clients. I consider that their existence is absolutely the worst possible thing for us who are endeavouring to gain a foothold in the scientific world. Your friend Mr. Rochester, you know, called me a charlatan."

"Mr. Rochester is never unjust," she answered quietly. "Some day, perhaps, he will take that word back."

He tried to give their conversation a more personal note, but he found her elusive. She accepted an invitation, however, to be present at a lecture which he was giving before another learned society during the following week. With that he felt that he ought to be content.

Nevertheless, he left her a little dissatisfied. He was perfectly well aware that the magnetism which he was usually able to exert over her s.e.x had so far availed him nothing with her. Her eyes met his freely, but without any response to the things which he was striving to express. She had seemed interested all the time, but she had dismissed him without regret. He walked homewards a little thoughtfully. If only she were a little like Lois!

As he pa.s.sed the entrance to the Park, an electric brougham was suddenly pulled up, and a lady leaned forward towards him. He stepped up to her side, hat in hand. It was Lady Mary Rochester. She was exquisitely gowned and hatted, with a great white veil which floated gracefully around her picture-hat, and she welcomed him with a brilliant smile.

"My dear Mr. Saton," she exclaimed, "what a fortunate meeting! Only a few minutes ago I was thinking of you."

"I am very much flattered," he answered.

"I mean it," she declared. "I wonder whether you could spare me a few minutes. I don't mean here," she added. "One can scarcely talk, driving. Come in after dinner, if you have nothing to do, just for half-an-hour. My husband is down in the country, and I am not going out until eleven."

"I shall be very pleased," he answered, a little mechanically, for he found the situation not altogether an easy one to grasp.

"Don't forget," she said. "Number 10, Berkeley Square," with a look of relief.

The electric brougham rolled on, and Saton crossed the road thoughtfully. Then a sudden smile lightened his features. He realized all at once what it was that Lady Mary wanted from him.

Rachael was waiting for him when he returned. She was seated before the table, her head resting upon her hands, her eyes fixed upon the little piles of gold and notes which she had arranged in front of her.

She watched him come in and take off his hat and coat, in silence.

"Well?" she asked. "How do things go to-day?"

"I have not the reports yet," he answered. "It is too early. I shall have them later."

"What have you been doing?" she asked.

"I walked with a girl, Lois Champneyes, in Kensington Gardens most of the morning, and I called upon a woman--Lady Marrabel--this afternoon," he answered.

Rachael nodded.

"Safe companions for you," she muttered. "Remember what I always tell you. You are of the breed that can make fools of women. A man might find you out."

He turned an angry face upon her.

"What is there to find out?" he demanded. "I am not an impostor. I am a man of science. I have proved it. Your fortune-telling temples are all very well, and the money they bring is welcome enough. But nevertheless, I am not the vulgar adventurer that you sometimes suggest."

The woman laughed, laughed silently and yet heartily, but she never spoke. She looked away from him presently, and drawing the pile of gold and notes nearer to her, began to recount them with her left hand. Her right she held out to him, slowly drawing him towards her.

CHAPTER XIII

LADY MARY'S DILEMMA

Lady Mary's boudoir was certainly the most luxurious apartment of its sort into which Saton had ever been admitted. There were great bowls of red roses upon the small ormolu table and on the mantelpiece.

Several exquisite etchings hung upon the lavender walls. The furniture was all French. Every available s.p.a.ce seemed occupied with costly knick-knacks and curios. Photographs of beautiful women, men in court dress and uniform, nearly all of them signed, were scattered about on every available inch of s.p.a.ce, and there was also that subtle air of femininity about the apartment, to which he was unaccustomed, and which went to his head like wine. It was evident that only privileged visitors were received there, for apart from the air of intimacy which seemed somehow to pervade the place, there were several articles of apparel, and a pair of slippers lying upon the hearthrug.

Lady Mary herself came rustling in to him a few minutes after his arrival, gorgeous in a wonderful shimmering gown, which seemed to hang straight from her shoulders--the very latest creation in the way of tea-gowns.

"I know you will forgive my receiving you like this," she said, holding out her hand. "To tell you the truth, I dined here absolutely alone, and I thought that I would not dress till afterwards. I am going on to the ball at Huntingford House, and it is always less trouble to go straight from one's maid. You have had coffee? Yes? Then sit down at the end of this couch, please, and tell me whether you think you can help me."

Saton was not altogether at his ease. The brilliancy of his surroundings, the easy charm of the woman, were a little disconcerting. And she was Rochester's wife, the wife of the man whom he hated! That in itself was a thing to be always kept in mind.

Never before had she seemed so desirable.

"If you will tell me in what way I can be of service, Lady Mary," he began----

She turned towards him pathetically.

"Really," she said, "I scarcely know why I asked for your help, except that you seem to me so much cleverer than most of the men I know."

"I am afraid you over-rate my abilities," he said, with a slight deprecating smile. "But at any rate, please be sure of one thing. You could not have asked the advice of anyone more anxious to serve you."

"How kind you are!" she murmured. "I am going to make a confession, and you will see, after all, that the trouble I am in has something to do with you. You remember that night at Beauleys?"

"Yes!" he answered.

"We won't talk about it," she continued. "We mustn't talk about it.

Only it gave me foolish thoughts. From being utterly incredulous or indifferent, I went to the other extreme. I became, I suppose, absolutely foolish. I went to one of those stupid women in Bond Street."

"You went to have your fortune told?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Oh, I suppose so!" she said. "I asked her a lot of things, and she looked into a crystal globe and told me what she saw. It was quite interesting, but unfortunately I went a little further than I meant to. I asked her some ridiculous questions about--a friend of mine."

He smiled sympathetically.