homunculi
were seen by historical persons, by Count Max Lemberg,
by Count Franz-Josef von Thun, and by many others. I have no
doubt that they were actually generated. But with our modern
appliances, with our greater skill, what might it not be possible to
do now if we had the courage? There are chemists toiling away in
their laboratories to create the primitive protoplasm from matter
which is dead, the organic from the inorganic. I have studied their
experiments. I know all that they know. Why shouldn't one work on
a larger scale, joining to the knowledge of the old adepts the
scientific discovery of the moderns? I don't know what would be the
result. It might be very strange and very wonderful. Sometimes my
mind is verily haunted by the desire to see a lifeless substance move
under my spells, by the desire to be as God.'
He gave a low weird laugh, half cruel, half voluptuous. It made
Margaret shudder with sudden fright. He had thrown himself down
in the chair, and he sat in complete shadow. By a singular effect his
eyes appeared blood-red, and they stared into space, strangely
parallel, with an intensity that was terrifying. Arthur started a little
and gave him a searching glance. The laugh and that uncanny
glance, the unaccountable emotion, were extraordinarily significant.
The whole thing was explained if Oliver Haddo was mad.
There was an uncomfortable silence. Haddo's words were out of
tune with the rest of the conversation. Dr Porhoët had spoken of
magical things with a sceptical irony that gave a certain humour to
the subject, and Susie was resolutely flippant. But Haddo's
vehemence put these incredulous people out of countenance. Dr
Porhoët got up to go. He shook hands with Susie and with
Margaret. Arthur opened the door for him. The kindly scholar
looked round for Margaret's terrier…
'I must bid my farewells to your little dog.'
He had been so quiet that they had forgotten his presence.
'Come here, Copper,' said Margaret.
The dog slowly slunk up to them, and with a terrified expression
crouched at Margaret's feet.
'What on earth's the matter with you?' she asked.
'He's frightened of me,' said Haddo, with that harsh laugh of his,
which gave such an unpleasant impression.
'Nonsense!'
Dr Porhoët bent down, stroked the dog's back, and shook its paw.
Margaret lifted it up and set it on a table.
'Now, be good,' she said, with lifted finger.
Dr Porhoët with a smile went out, and Arthur shut the door behind
him. Suddenly, as though evil had entered into it, the terrier sprang
at Oliver Haddo and fixed its teeth in his hand. Haddo uttered a cry,
and, shaking it off, gave it a savage kick. The dog rolled over with a
loud bark that was almost a scream of pain, and lay still for a
moment as if it were desperately hurt. Margaret cried out with
horror and indignation. A fierce rage on a sudden seized Arthur so
that he scarcely knew what he was about. The wretched brute's
suffering, Margaret's terror, his own instinctive hatred of the man,
were joined together in frenzied passion.
'You brute,' he muttered.
He hit Haddo in the face with his clenched fist. The man collapsed
bulkily to the floor, and Arthur, furiously seizing his collar, began to
kick him with all his might. He shook him as a dog would shake a
rat and then violently flung him down. For some reason Haddo
made no resistance. He remained where he fell in utter helplessness.
Arthur turned to Margaret. She was holding the poor hurt dog in
her hands, crying over it, and trying to comfort it in its pain. Very
gently he examined it to see if Haddo's brutal kick had broken a
bone. They sat down beside the fire. Susie, to steady her nerves, lit a
cigarette. She was horribly, acutely conscious of that man who lay in
a mass on the floor behind them. She wondered what he would do.
She wondered why he did not go. And she was ashamed of his
humiliation. Then her heart stood still; for she realized that he was
raising himself to his feet, slowly, with the difficulty of a very fat
person. He leaned against the wall and stared at them. He remained
there quite motionless. His stillness got on her nerves, and she could
have screamed as she felt him look at them, look with those
unnatural eyes, whose expression now she dared not even imagine.
At last she could no longer resist the temptation to turn round just
enough to see him. Haddo's eyes were fixed upon Margaret so
intently that he did not see he was himself observed. His face,
distorted by passion, was horrible to look upon. That vast mass of
flesh had a malignancy that was inhuman, and it was terrible to see
the satanic hatred which hideously deformed it. But it changed. The
redness gave way to a ghastly pallor. The revengeful scowl
disappeared; and a torpid smile spread over the features, a smile
that was even more terrifying than the frown of malice. What did it
mean? Susie could have cried out, but her tongue cleaved to her
throat. The smile passed away, and the face became once more
impassive. It seemed that Margaret and Arthur realized at last the
power of those inhuman eyes, and they became quite still. The dog
ceased its sobbing. The silence was so great that each one heard the
beating of his heart. It was intolerable.
Then Oliver Haddo moved. He came forward slowly.
'I want to ask you to forgive me for what I did,' he said.
'The pain of the dog's bite was so keen that I lost my temper. I
deeply regret that I kicked it. Mr Burdon was very right to thrash
me. I feel that I deserved no less.'
He spoke in a low voice, but with great distinctness. Susie was
astounded. An abject apology was the last thing she expected.
He paused for Margaret's answer. But she could not bear to look at
him. When she spoke, her words were scarcely audible. She did not
know why his request to be forgiven made him seem more
detestable.
'I think, if you don't mind, you had better go away.'
Haddo bowed slightly. He looked at Burdon.
'I wish to tell you that I bear no malice for what you did. I recognize
the justice of your anger.'
Arthur did not answer at all. Haddo hesitated a moment, while his
eyes rested on them quietly. To Susie it seemed that they flickered
with the shadow of a smile. She watched him with bewildered
astonishment.
He reached for his hat, bowed again, and went.
8
Susie could not persuade herself that Haddo's regret was sincere.
The humility of it aroused her suspicion. She could not get out of
her mind the ugly slyness of that smile which succeeded on his face
the first passionate look of deadly hatred. Her fancy suggested
various dark means whereby Oliver Haddo might take vengeance
on his enemy, and she was at pains to warn Arthur. But he only
laughed.
'The man's a funk,' he said. 'Do you think if he'd had anything in
him at all he would have let me kick him without trying to defend
himself?'
Haddo's cowardice increased the disgust with which Arthur
regarded
him.
He was amused by Susie's trepidation.
'What on earth do you suppose he can do? He can't drop a brickbat
on my head. If he shoots me he'll get his head cut off, and he won't
be such an ass as to risk that!'
Margaret was glad that the incident had relieved them of Oliver's
society. She met him in the street a couple of days later, and since he
took off his hat in the French fashion without waiting for her to
acknowledge him, she was able to make her cut more pointed.
She began to discuss with Arthur the date of their marriage. It
seemed to her that she had got out of Paris all it could give her, and
she wished to begin a new life. Her love for Arthur appeared on a
sudden more urgent, and she was filled with delight at the thought
of the happiness she would give him.
A day or two later Susie received a telegram. It ran as follows:
Please meet me at the Gare du Nord, 2:40.
Nancy Clerk
It was an old friend, who was apparently arriving in Paris that
afternoon. A photograph of her, with a bold signature, stood on the
chimney-piece, and Susie gave it an inquisitive glance. She had not
seen Nancy for so long that it surprised her to receive this urgent
message.
'What a bore it is!' she said. 'I suppose I must go.'
They meant to have tea on the other side of the river, but the journey
to the station was so long that it would not be worth Susie's while to
come back in the interval; and they arranged therefore to meet at the
house to which they were invited. Susie started a little before two.
Margaret had a class that afternoon and set out two or three minutes
later. As she walked through the courtyard she started nervously,
for Oliver Haddo passed slowly by. He did not seem to see her.
Suddenly he stopped, put his hand to his heart, and fell heavily to
the ground. The
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