the captives-第98节

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and　she　would　not　have　seen　it　at　all　had　she　not　been　very　near　to　it。

She　realised　nothing；　but　she　felt　that　her　knees　were　trembling　and　that　she　would　fall　if　she　did　not　steady　herself。　She　put　out　her　hand　and　clutched　damp　heavy　thick　cloth；　cloth　that　enwrapped　as　it　seemed　some　weighty　substance　like　stone　or　brick。

She　passed　her　hand　upwards　and　suddenly　the　damp　cloth　gave　way　beneath　her　fingers；　sinking　inwards　against　something　soft　and　flabby。　She　sprang　away。　She　stood　for　one　shuddering　moment；　then　she　screamed　again　and　again；　shrieking　and　running；　as　it　were　for　her　life；　out　of　the　room；　down　the　passage。　She　could　not　find　the　staircase。　Oh！　she　could　not　find　the　staircase！　She　stood　there；　leaning　against　the　damp　wall；　crying：　〃Oh　help！　Help！　Quickly！〃

There　were　steps　and　voices；　then　the　woman　whom　she　had　seen　before　appeared　at　the　turn　of　the　stair　holding　a　lamp。

〃What　is　it？〃　she　asked；　raising　the　light　high。　Maggie　did　not　answer；　only　leaning　there　and　staring　down。

〃You'd　better　come；　Bill；〃　the　woman　said。　〃There's　something　wrong　up　'ere。〃

The　woman　came　up　the　stairs　followed　by　two　men；　they　moved　cautiously　as　though；　they　expected　to　find　something　terrible　round　the　next　corner。

〃What　is　it？〃　said　the　woman　again　when　she　came　up　to　Maggie。　But　Maggie　made　no　answer。　They　pushed　past　her　and　went　into　the　room。　Maggie　followed　them。　She　saw　the　room　obscured　by　mist；　she　heard　some　whispering　and　fumbling；　then　a　match　was　struck；　there　was　a　bead…like　flare　followed　suddenly　by　the　flaming　of　a　candle。　In　the　quick　light　the　room　was　bright。　Maggie　saw　her　uncle　hanging　from　some　projection　in　the　rough　ceiling。　A　chair　was　overturned　at　his　feet。　His　body　was　like　a　bag　of　old　clothes；　his　big　boots　turning　inwards　towards　one　another。　His　face　was　a　dull　grey　and　seemed　cut　off　from　the　rest　of　his　body　by　the　thick　blue　muffler　that　encircled　his　neck。　He　was　grinning　at　her；　the　tip　of　his　tongue　protruded　at　her　between　his　teeth。　She　noticed　his　hands　that　hung　heavily　like　dead　fish。

After　that　she　knew　no　more　save　that　the　sea　seemed　to　rush　in　a　great　flood；　with　a　sudden　vindictive　roar；　into　the　room。




CHAPTER　IX

SOUL　OF　PAUL


Nothing　so　horrible　had　ever　happened　to　Paul　before；　nothing　。　。　。

He　felt　as　though　he　had　committed　a　murder；　it　was　as　though　he　expected　arrest　and　started　at　every　knock　on　the　door。　Nothing　so　horrible　。　。　。

It　was；　of　course；　in　all　the　Skeaton　papers。　At　the　inquest　it　appeared　that　Mathew　Cardinal　had　imitated　the　signature　of　a　prosperous　City　friend；　had　he　not　chosen　his　own　way　out　he　would　have　discovered　the　arduous　delights　of　hard　labour。　But　he　had　chosen　suicide　and　not　〃while　of　unsound　mind。〃　Yes；　the　uncle　of　the　Rector's　wife　。　。　。　Yes；　The　Rector's　Wife's　Uncle　。　。　。　Yes；　The　Rector's　Wife's　Uncle！

Sho　discovered　him；　bumped　right　into　him　in　the　dark。　What　a　queer　storylike　a　novel。　Oh；　but　she　had　always　been　queerTrenchard　had　picked　her　up　somewhere　in　a　London　slum；　well；　perhaps　not　a　slum　exactly　but　something　very　like　it。　Why　did　he　marry　her？　Perhaps　he　had　to。　Who　knows？　These　clergymen　are　sly　dogs。　Always　the　worst　if　the　truth　were　known　。　。　。

So　it　went　on。　For　nine　whole　days　（and　nights）　it　was　the　only　topic　in　Skeaton。　Paul　caught　the　fringe　of　it。　He　had　never　known　very　much　about　his　fellow…beings。　He　had　always　taken　the　things　that　they　said　to　him　as　the　true　things；　when　they　smiled　he　had　thought　that　they　meant　their　smiles。　And　why　not？　。　。　。　since　he　always　meant　his。　He　had　always　been　too　lazy　to　dislike　people；　and　his　digestion　had　been　too　good　and　his　ambition　too　slender　to　urge　him　towards　spite　and　malice。　He　had　believed　that　he　was　on　excellent　terms　with　all　the　world。

Now　that　was　changed。　He　was　watched；　he　knew；　with　curious；　inquisitive；　critical　glances。　Through　no　fault　of　his　own　he　was　soiled　and　smirched。　That　hearty　confident　laugh　of　his　must　be　checked。　He　was　afraid。　Yes；　he　was　afraid。　He　sat　in　his　study　and　trembled　at　the　thought　of　meeting　his　congregation。　He　had　done　nothing　and　yet　his　reputation　was　no　longer　clean。　But　he　was　afraid；　also；　of　something　else。　He　saw；　desperately　against　his　will；　the　central　picture。　He　saw　the　body　hanging　in　the　dark　room；　Maggie　tumbling　against　it；　the　cries；　the　lights；　the　crowd　。　。　。　He　saw　it　all；　hour　after　hour。　He　was　not　an　imaginative　man；　but　it　seemed　to　him　that　he　had　actually　been　present　at　this　scene。　He　had　to　attend　the　inquest。　That　had　been　horrible。　With　all　eyes　upon　him　he　stood　up　and　answered　their　detestable　questions。　He　had　trembled　before　those　eyes。　Suddenly　the　self…confidence　of　all　his　life　had　left　him。　He　had　stammered　in　his　replies；　his　hands　had　trembled　and　he　had　been　forced　to　press　them　close　to　his　sides。　He　had　given　his　answers　as　though　he　were　a　guilty　man。

He　came　then　slowly；　in　the　silence　of　his　study；　to　the　consideration　of　Grace　and　Maggie。　This　would　kill　Grace。　She　had　altered；　in　a　few　days；　amazingly；　she　would　meet　nobody；　but　shut　herself　into　her　bedroom。　She　would　not　see　the　servants。　She　looked　at　Paul　as　though　she；　like　the　rest　of　the　world；　blamed　him。　Paul　loved　Grace。　He　had　not　known　before　how　much。　They　had　been　together　all　their　lives　and　he　had　taken　her　protection　and　care　of　him　too　much　for　granted。　How　good　she　had　been　to　him　and　for　how　many　years！　When　they　were　happy　it　seemed　natural　that　she　should　look　after　him；　but　now；　in　the　middle　of　this　scandal　he　saw　that　it　should　have　been　he　who　looked　after　her。　He　had　not　looked　after　her。　Of　course；　now　they　would　have　to　leave　Skeaton　and　he　knew　what　that　departure　would　mean　to　Grace。　She　was　suspicious　of　new　places　and　new　people。　Strange　to　think　now　that　almost　the　only　person　of　whom　she　had　not　been　suspicious　was　Maggie。

Maggie！　His　mind　slowly　wheeled　round　to　her。　He　rose　from　his　chair　and　began　clumsily　to　parade　the　room。　He　walked　up　and　down　the　study　as　though　with　closed　eyes；　his　large　body　bumping　against　corners　of　tables　and　chairs。　Maggie！　He　looked　back；　as　of　late　he　had　often　done；　to　those　days　in　his　cousin's　house　in　London。　What　had　happened　to　the　Maggie　whom　he　had　known　there？

He　saw　her　again；　so　quiet；　so　ready　to　listen　and　learn；　so　modest；　and　yet　with　a　humour　and　sense　of　appreciation　that　had　promised　well　for　the　future。　A　childan　ignorant；　charming；　uneducated　child；　that　is　what　she　had　seemed。　He　admitted　now　that　his　heart；　always　too　soft　and　too　gentle　perhaps；　had　been　touched　beyond　wisdom。　She　had　seemed　to　need　just　the　protection　and　advice　that　he　had　been　fitted　to　give　her。　Then；　as　though　in　the　darkness　of　the　night；　the　change　had　been　made；　from　the　moment　of　entering　into　Skeaton　there　had　been　a　new　Maggie。　He　could　not　tell　himself；　because　he　was　not　a　man　clever　at　psychology；　in　what　the　change　consisted。　Had　he　been　pressed　he　would　have　said　perhaps　that　he　had　known　the　old　Maggie　intimately；　that　nothing　that　she　could　say　or　do　astonished　him；　but　that　this　new　Maggie　was　altogether　a　stranger。　Time　had　not　altered　that；　with　the　passing　months　he　had　known　her　less　and　less。　Why；　at　their　first　meeting　long　ago　in　Katherine's　house　he　had　known　her　better　than　he　knew　her　now。　He　traced　the　steps　of　their　history　in　Skeaton；　she　had　eluded　him　always；　never　allowing　him　to　hold　her　for　more　than　a　moment；　vanishing　and　appearing　again；　fantastic；　in　some　strange　lighted　distance；　hurting　him　and　disappointing　him　。　。　。　He　stopped　in　his　walk；　bewildered。　He　saw；　with　a　sudden　flash；　that　she　had　never　appeared　so　fascinating　to　him　as　when　she　had　been　strangest。　He　saw　it　now　at　the　moment　when　she　seemed　more　darkly　strange；　more　sinister　and　dangerous　than　ever　before。

He　realised；　too；　at　the　same　sharp　moment　the　conflict　in　which　he　was　engaged。　On　the　one　side　was　all　his　life；　his　sloth　and　ease　and　comfort；　his　religion；　his　good　name；　his　easy　intercourse　with　his　fellow…men；　Grace；　intellectual　laziness；　acceptance　of　things　as　they　most　easily　are；　Skeaton；　regular　meals；　good　drainage；　moral；　physical　and　spiritual；　a　good　funeral　and　a　favourable　obituary　in　The　Skeaton　Times。　On　the　other　hand　unrest；　ill…health；　separation　from　Grace；　an　elusive　and　never…to…be…satisfied　pursuit；　scandal　and　possible　loss　of　religion；　unhappiness　。　。　。　At　least　it　was　to　his　credit　that　he　realised　the　conflict；　it　is　even　further　to　his　credit　that　he　grasped　and　admitted　the　hopelessness　of　it。　He　knew　which　way　he　would　go；　even　now　he　was　tired　with　the　thought　of　the　struggle；　he　sank　into　his　shabby　chair　with　a　sigh　of　weariness；　his　hand　stretched　out　instinctively　for　an　easy　volume。　But　oh；　Maggie！　how　strange　and　fascinating　at　that　moment　she　appeared　to　him；　with　her　odd　silences；　her　flashes　of　startled　surprise；　her　sense　of　being　half　the　day　in　another　world；　her　kindness　to　him　and　then　her　sudden　terror　of　him；　her　ignorance　and　then　the　conviction　that　she　gave　suddenly　to　him　that　she　knew　more　than　he　would　ever　know；　above　all；　the　way　that　some　dark　spirit　deep　down　in　him　supported　her　wild　rebellions；　her　irreverences；　her　irreligion；　her　s