Somerset maughan

Eau de Nil
; 
and its beauty was enhanced by the old lace which had formed not 
the least treasured part of her inheritance. In her hair she wore an 
ornament of Spanish paste, of exquisite workmanship, and round 
her neck a chain which had once adorned that of a madonna in an 
Andalusian church. Her individuality made even her plainness 
attractive. She smiled at herself in the glass ruefully, because Arthur 
would never notice that she was perfectly dressed. 
When she tripped down the stairs and across the pavement to the 
cab with which he fetched her, Susie held up her skirt with a grace 
she flattered herself was quite Parisian. As they drove along, she 
flirted a little with her Spanish fan and stole a glance at herself in the 
glass. Her gloves were so long and so new and so expensive that she 
was really indifferent to Arthur's inattention. 
Her joyous temperament expanded like a spring flower when she 
found herself in the Opera House. She put up her glasses and 
examined the women as they came into the boxes of the Grand Tier. 
Arthur pointed out a number of persons whose names were familiar 
to her, but she felt the effort he was making to be amiable. The 
weariness of his mouth that evening was more noticeable because of 
the careless throng. But when the music began he seemed to forget 
that any eye was upon him; he relaxed the constant tension in which 
he held himself; and Susie, watching him surreptitiously, saw the 
emotions chase one another across his face. It was now very mobile. 
The passionate sounds ate into his soul, mingling with his own love 
and his own sorrow, till he was taken out of himself; and sometimes 
he panted strangely. Through the interval he remained absorbed in 
his emotion. He sat as quietly as before and did not speak a word. 
Susie understood why Arthur, notwithstanding his old indifference, 
now showed such eager appreciation of music; it eased the pain he 
suffered by transferring it to an ideal world, and his own grievous 
sorrow made the music so real that it gave him an enjoyment of 
extraordinary vehemence. When it was all over and Isolde had 
given her last wail of sorrow, Arthur was so exhausted that he could 
hardly stir. 
But they went out with the crowd, and while they were waiting in 
the vestibule for space to move in, a common friend came up to 

---

them. This was Arbuthnot, an eye-specialist, whom Susie had met 
on the Riviera and who, she presently discovered, was a colleague 
of Arthur's at St Luke's. He was a prosperous bachelor with grey 
hair and a red, contented face, well-to-do, for his practice was large, 
and lavish with his money. He had taken Susie out to luncheon once 
or twice in Monte Carlo; for he liked women, pretty or plain, and 
she attracted him by her good-humour. He rushed up to them now 
and wrung their hands. He spoke in a jovial voice. 
'The very people I wanted to see! Why haven't you been to see me, 
you wicked woman? I'm sure your eyes are in a deplorable 
condition.' 
'Do you think I would let a bold, bad man like you stare into them 
with an ophthalmoscope?' laughed Susie. 
'Now look here, I want you both to do me a great favour. I'm giving 
a supper party at the Savoy, and two of my people have suddenly 
failed me. The table is ordered for eight, and you must come and 
take their places.' 
'I'm afraid I must get home,' said Arthur. 'I have a deuce of a lot of 
work to do.' 
'Nonsense,' answered Arbuthnot. 'You work much too hard, and a 
little relaxation will do you good.' He turned to Susie: 'I know you 
like curiosities in human nature; I'm having a man and his wife who 
will positively thrill you, they're so queer, and a lovely actress, and 
an awfully jolly American girl.' 
'I should love to come,' said Susie, with an appealing look at Arthur, 
'if only to show you how much more amusing I am than lovely 
actresses.' 
Arthur, forcing himself to smile, accepted the invitation. The 
specialist patted him cheerily on the back, and they agreed to meet 
at the Savoy. 
'It's awfully good of you to come,' said Susie, as they drove along. 
'Do you know, I've never been there in my life, and I'm palpitating 
with excitement.' 

---

'What a selfish brute I was to refuse!' he answered. 
When Susie came out of the dressing-room, she found Arthur 
waiting for her. She was in the best of spirits. 
'Now you must say you like my frock. I've seen six women turn 
green with envy at the sight of it. They think I must be French, and 
they're sure I'm not respectable.' 
'That is evidently a great compliment,' he smiled. 
At that moment Arbuthnot came up to them in his eager way and 
seized their arms. 
'Come along. We're waiting for you. I'll just introduce you all round, 
and then we'll go in to supper.' 
They walked down the steps into the foyer, and he led them to a 
group of people. They found themselves face to face with Oliver 
Haddo and Margaret. 
'Mr Arthur Burdon—Mrs Haddo. Mr Burdon is a colleague of mine 
at St Luke's; and he will cut out your appendix in a shorter time 
than any man alive.' 
Arbuthnot rattled on. He did not notice that Arthur had grown 
ghastly pale and that Margaret was blank with consternation. 
Haddo, his heavy face wreathed with smiles, stepped forward 
heartily. He seemed thoroughly to enjoy the situation. 
'Mr Burdon is an old friend of ours,' he said. 'In fact, it was he who 
introduced me to my wife. And Miss Boyd and I have discussed Art 
and the Immortality of the Soul with the gravity due to such topics.' 
He held out his hand, and Susie took it. She had a horror of scenes, 
and, though this encounter was as unexpected as it was 
disagreeable, she felt it needful to behave naturally. She shook 
hands with Margaret. 
'How disappointing!' cried their host. 'I was hoping to give Miss 
Boyd something quite new in the way of magicians, and behold! she 
knows all about him.' 

---

'If she did, I'm quite sure she wouldn't speak to me,' said Oliver, 
with a bantering smile. 
They went into the supper-room. 
'Now, how shall we sit?' said Arbuthnot, glancing round the table. 
Oliver looked at Arthur, and his eyes twinkled. 
'You must really let my wife and Mr Burdon be together. They 
haven't seen one another for so long that I'm sure they have no end 
of things to talk about.' He chuckled to himself. 'And pray give me 
Miss Boyd, so that she can abuse me to her heart's content.' 
This arrangement thoroughly suited the gay specialist, for he was 
able to put the beautiful actress on one side of him and the charming 
American on the other. He rubbed his hands. 
'I feel that we're going to have a delightful supper.' 
Oliver laughed boisterously. He took, as was his habit, the whole 
conversation upon himself, and Susie was obliged to confess that he 
was at his best. There was a grotesque drollery about him that was 
very diverting, and it was almost impossible to resist him. He ate 
and drank with tremendous appetite. Susie thanked her stars at that 
moment that she was a woman who knew by long practice how to 
conceal her feelings, for Arthur, overcome with dismay at the 
meeting, sat in stony silence. But she talked gaily. She chaffed Oliver 
as though he were an old friend, and laughed vivaciously. She 
noticed meanwhile that Haddo, more extravagantly dressed than 
usual, had managed to get an odd fantasy into his evening clothes: 
he wore knee-breeches, which in itself was enough to excite 
attention; but his frilled shirt, his velvet collar, and oddly-cut satin 
waistcoat gave him the appearance of a comic Frenchman. Now that 
she was able to examine him more closely, she saw that in the last 
six months he was grown much balder; and the shiny whiteness of 
his naked crown contrasted oddly with the redness of his face. He 
was stouter, too, and the fat hung in heavy folds under his chin; his 
paunch was preposterous. The vivacity of his movements made his 
huge corpulence subtly alarming. He was growing indeed strangely 
terrible in appearance. His eyes had still that fixed, parallel look, but 

---

there was in them now at times a ferocious gleam. Margaret was as 
beautiful as ever, but Susie noticed that his influence was apparent 
in her dress; for there could be no doubt that it had crossed the line 
of individuality and had degenerated into the eccentric. Her gown 
was much too gorgeous. It told against the classical character of her 
beauty. Susie shuddered a little, for it reminded her of a courtesan's. 
Margaret talked and laughed as much as her husband, but Susie 
could not tell whether this animation was affected or due to an utter 
callousness. Her voice seemed natural enough, yet it was 
inconceivable that she should be so lighthearted. Perhaps she was 
trying to show that she was happy. The supper proceeded, and the 
lights, the surrounding gaiety, the champagne, made everyone more 
lively. Their host was in uproarious spirits. He told a story or two at 
which everyone laughed. Oliver Haddo had an amusing anecdote 
handy. It was a little risky, but it was so funnily narrated that 
everyone roared but Arthur, who remained in perfect silence. 
Margaret had been drinking glass after glass of wine, and no sooner 
had her husband finished than she capped his story with another. 
But whereas his was wittily immoral, hers was simply gross. At first 
the other women could not understand to what she was tending, but 
when they saw, they looked down awkwardly at their plates. 
Arbuthnot, Haddo, and the other man who was there laughed very 
heartily; but Arthur flushed to the roots of his hair. He felt horribly 
uncomfortable. He was ashamed. He dared not look at Margaret. It 
was inconceivable that from her exquisite mouth such indecency 
should issue. Margaret, apparently quite unconscious of the effect 
she had produced, went on talking and laughing. 
Soon the lights were put out, and Arthur's agony was ended. He 
wanted to rush away, to hide his face, to forget the sight of her and 
her gaiety, above all to forget that story. It was horrible, horrible. 
She shook hands with him quite lightly. 
'You must come and see us one day. We've got rooms at the 
Carlton.' 
He bowed and did not answer. Susie had gone to the dressing-room 
to get her cloak. She stood at the door when Margaret came out. 

---

'Can we drop you anywhere?' said Margaret. 'You must come and 
see us when you have nothing better to do.' 
Susie threw back her head. Arthur was standing just in front of them 
looking down at the ground in complete abstraction. 
'Do you see him?' she said, in a low voice quivering with 
indignation. 
'That is what you have made him.' 
He looked up at that moment and turned upon them his sunken, 
tormented eyes. They saw his wan, pallid face with its look of 
hopeless woe. 
'Do you know that he's killing himself on your account? He can't 
sleep at night. He's suffered the tortures of the damned. Oh, I hope 
you'll suffer as he's suffered!' 
'I wonder that you blame me,' said Margaret. 'You ought to be rather 
grateful.' 
'Why?' 
'You're not going to deny that you've loved him passionately from 
the first day you saw him? Do you think I didn't see that you cared 
for him in Paris? You care for him now more than ever.' 
Susie felt suddenly sick at heart. She had never dreamt that her 
secret was discovered. Margaret gave a bitter little laugh and 
walked past her. 

---

12 
Arthur Burdon spent two or three days in a state of utter 
uncertainty, but at last the idea he had in mind grew so compelling 
as to overcome all objections. He went to the Carlton and asked for 
Margaret. He had learnt from the porter that Haddo was gone out 
and so counted on finding her alone. A simple device enabled him 
to avoid sending up his name. When he was shown into her private 
room Margaret was sitting down. She neither read nor worked. 
'You told me I might call upon you,' said Arthur. 
She stood up without answering, and turned deathly pale. 
'May I sit down?' he asked. 
She bowed her head. For a moment they looked at one another in 
silence. Arthur suddenly forgot all he had prepared to say. His 
intrusion seemed intolerable. 
'Why have you come?' she said hoarsely. 
They both felt that it was useless to attempt the conventionality of 
society. It was impossible to deal with the polite commonplaces that 
ease an awkward situation. 
'I thought that I might be able to help you,' he answered gravely. 
'I want no help. I'm perfectly happy. I have nothing to say to you.' 
She spoke hurriedly, with a certain nervousness, and her eyes were 
fixed anxiously on the door as though she feared that someone 
would come in. 
'I feel that we have much to say to one another,' he insisted. 'If it is 
inconvenient for us to talk here, will you not come and see me?' 
'He'd know,' she cried suddenly, as if the words were dragged out 
of 
her. 
'D'you think anything can be hidden from him?' 

---

Arthur glanced at her. He was horrified by the terror that was in her 
eyes. In the full light of day a change was plain in her expression. 
Her face was strangely drawn, and pinched, and there was in it a 
constant look as of a person cowed. Arthur turned away. 
'I want you to know that I do not blame you in the least for anything 
you did. No action of yours can ever lessen my affection for you.' 
'Oh, why did you come here? Why do you torture me by saying 
such things?' 
She burst on a sudden into a flood of tears, and walked excitedly up 
and down the room. 
'Oh, if you wanted me to be punished for the pain I've caused you, 
you can triumph now. Susie said she hoped I'd suffer all the agony 
that I've made you suffer. If she only knew!' 
Margaret gave a hysterical laugh. She flung herself on her knees by 
Arthur's side and seized his hands. 
'Did you think I didn't see? My heart bled when I looked at your 
poor wan face and your tortured eyes. Oh, you've changed. I could 
never have believed that a man could change so much in so few 
months, and it's I who've caused it all. Oh, Arthur, Arthur, you must 
forgive me. And you must pity me.' 
'But there's nothing to forgive, darling,' he cried. 
She looked at him steadily. Her eyes now were shining with a hard 
brightness. 
'You say that, but you don't really think it. And yet if you only 
knew, all that I have endured is on your account.' 
She made a great effort to be calm. 
'What do you mean?' said Arthur. 
'He never loved me, he would never have thought of me if he hadn't 
wanted to wound you in what you treasured most. He hated you, 
and he's made me what I am so that you might suffer. It isn't I who 

---

did all this, but a devil within me; it isn't I who lied to you and left 
you and caused you all this unhappiness.' 
She rose to her feet and sighed deeply. 
'Once, I thought he was dying, and I helped him. I took him into the 
studio and gave him water. And he gained some dreadful power 
over me so that I've been like wax in his hands. All my will has 
disappeared, and I have to do his bidding. And if I try to resist …' 
Her face twitched with pain and fear. 
'I've found out everything since. I know that on that day when he 
seemed to be at the point of death, he was merely playing a trick on 
me, and he got Susie out of the way by sending a telegram from a 
girl whose name he had seen on a photograph. I've heard him roar 
with laughter at his cleverness.' 
She stopped suddenly, and a look of frightful agony crossed her 
face. 
'And at this very minute, for all I know, it may be by his influence 
that I say this to you, so that he may cause you still greater suffering 
by allowing me to tell you that he never cared for me. You know 
now that my life is hell, and his vengeance is complete.' 
'Vengeance for what?' 
'Don't you remember that you hit him once, and kicked him 
unmercifully? I know him well now. He could have killed you, but 
he hated you too much. It pleased him a thousand times more to 
devise this torture for you and me.' 
Margaret's agitation was terrible to behold. This was the first time 
that she had ever spoken to a soul of all these things, and now the 
long restraint had burst as burst the waters of a dam. Arthur sought 
to calm her. 
'You're ill and overwrought. You must try to compose yourself. 
After 
all, 
Haddo is a human being like the rest of us.' 

---

'Yes, you always laughed at his claims. You wouldn't listen to the 
things he said. But I know. Oh, I can't explain it; I daresay common 
sense and probability are all against it, but I've seen things with my 
own eyes that pass all comprehension. I tell you, he has powers of 
the most awful kind. That first day when I was alone with him, he 
seemed to take me to some kind of sabbath. I don't know what it 
was, but I saw horrors, vile horrors, that rankled for ever after like 
poison in my mind; and when we went up to his house in 
Staffordshire, I recognized the scene; I recognized the arid rocks, 
and the trees, and the lie of the land. I knew I'd been there before on 
that fatal afternoon. Oh, you must believe me! Sometimes I think I 
shall go mad with the terror of it all.' 
Arthur did not speak. Her words caused a ghastly suspicion to flash 
through his mind, and he could hardly contain himself. He thought 
that some dreadful shock had turned her brain. She buried her face 
in her hands. 
'Look here,' he said, 'you must come away at once. You can't 
continue to live with him. You must never go back to Skene.' 
'I can't leave him. We're bound together inseparably.' 
'But it's monstrous. There can be nothing to keep you to him. Come 
back to Susie. She'll be very kind to you; she'll help you to forget all 
you've endured.' 
'It's no use. You can do nothing for me.' 
'Why not?' 
'Because, notwithstanding, I love him with all my soul.' 
'Margaret!' 
'I hate him. He fills me with repulsion. And yet I do not know what 
there is in my blood that draws me to him against my will. My flesh 
cries out for him.' 
Arthur looked away in embarrassment. He could not help a slight, 
instinctive movement of withdrawal. 

---

'Do I disgust you?' she said. 
He flushed slightly, but scarcely knew how to answer. He made a 
vague gesture of denial. 
'If you only knew,' she said. 
There was something so extraordinary in her tone that he gave her a 
quick glance of surprise. He saw that her cheeks were flaming. Her 
bosom was panting as though she were again on the point of 
breaking into a passion of tears. 
'For God's sake, don't look at me!' she cried. 
She turned away and hid her face. The words she uttered were in a 
shamed, unnatural voice. 
'If you'd been at Monte Carlo, you'd have heard them say, God 
knows how they knew it, that it was only through me he had his 
luck at the tables. He's contented himself with filling my soul with 
vice. I have no purity in me. I'm sullied through and through. He 
has made me into a sink of iniquity, and I loathe myself. I cannot 
look at myself without a shudder of disgust.' 
A cold sweat came over Arthur, and he grew more pale than ever. 
He realized now he was in the presence of a mystery that he could 
not unravel. She went on feverishly. 
'The other night, at supper, I told a story, and I saw you wince with 
shame. It wasn't I that told it. The impulse came from him, and I 
knew it was vile, and yet I told it with gusto. I enjoyed the telling of 
it; I enjoyed the pain I gave you, and the dismay of those women. 
There seem to be two persons in me, and my real self, the old one 
that you knew and loved, is growing weaker day by day, and soon 
she will be dead entirely. And there will remain only the wanton 
soul in the virgin body.' 
Arthur tried to gather his wits together. He felt it an occasion on 
which it was essential to hold on to the normal view of things. 

---

'But for God's sake leave him. What you've told me gives you every 
ground for divorce. It's all monstrous. The man must be so mad that 
he ought to be put in a lunatic asylum.' 
'You can do nothing for me,' she said. 
'But if he doesn't love you, what does he want you for?' 
'I don't know, but I'm beginning to suspect.' 
She looked at Arthur steadily. She was now quite calm. 
'I think he wishes to use me for a magical operation. I don't know if 
he's mad or not. But I think he means to try some horrible 
experiment, and I am needful for its success. That is my safeguard.' 
'Your safeguard?' 
'He won't kill me because he needs me for that. Perhaps in the 
process I shall regain my freedom.' 
Arthur was shocked at the callousness with which she spoke. He 
went up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. 
'Look here, you must pull yourself together, Margaret. This isn't 
sane. If you don't take care, your mind will give way altogether. You 
must come with me now. When you're out of his hands, you'll soon 
regain your calmness of mind. You need never see him again. If 
you're afraid, you shall be hidden from him, and lawyers shall 
arrange everything between you.' 
'I daren't.' 
'But I promise you that you can come to no harm. Be reasonable. 
We're in London now, surrounded by people on every side. How do 
you think he can touch you while we drive through the crowded 
streets? I'll take you straight to Susie. In a week you'll laugh at the 
idle fears you had.' 
'How do you know that he is not in the room at this moment, 
listening to all you say?' 

---

The question was so sudden, so unexpected, that Arthur was 
startled. He looked round quickly. 
'You must be mad. You see that the room is empty.' 
'I tell you that you don't know what powers he has. Have you ever 
heard those old legends with which nurses used to frighten our 
childhood, of men who could turn themselves into wolves, and who 
scoured the country at night?' She looked at him with staring eyes. 
'Sometimes, when he's come in at Skene in the morning, with 
bloodshot eyes, exhausted with fatigue and strangely discomposed, 
I've imagined that he too …' She stopped and threw back her head. 
'You're right, Arthur, I think I shall go mad.' 
He watched her helplessly. He did not know what to do. Margaret 
went on, her voice quivering with anguish. 
'When we were married, I reminded him that he'd promised to take 
me to his mother. He would never speak of her, but I felt I must see 
her. And one day, suddenly, he told me to get ready for a journey, 
and we went a long way, to a place I did not know, and we drove 
into the country. We seemed to go miles and miles, and we reached 
at last a large house, surrounded by a high wall, and the windows 
were heavily barred. We were shown into a great empty room. It 
was dismal and cold like the waiting-room at a station. A man came 
in to us, a tall man, in a frock-coat and gold spectacles. He was 
introduced to me as Dr Taylor, and then, suddenly, I understood.' 
Margaret spoke in hurried gasps, and her eyes were staring wide, as 
though she saw still the scene which at the time had seemed the 
crowning horror of her experience. 
'I knew it was an asylum, and Oliver hadn't told me a word. He took 
us up a broad flight of stairs, through a large dormitory—oh, if you 
only knew what I saw there! I was so horribly frightened, I'd never 
been in such a place before—to a cell. And the walls and the floor 
were padded.' 
Margaret passed her hand across her forehead to chase away the 
recollection of that awful sight. 

---

'Oh, I see it still. I can never get it out of my mind.' 
She remembered with a morbid vividness the vast misshapen mass 
which she had seen heaped strangely in one corner. There was a 
slight movement in it as they entered, and she perceived that it was 
a human being. It was a woman, dressed in shapeless brown flannel; 
a woman of great stature and of a revolting, excessive corpulence. 
She turned upon them a huge, impassive face; and its unwrinkled 
smoothness gave it an appearance of aborted childishness. The hair 
was dishevelled, grey, and scanty. But what most terrified Margaret 
was that she saw in this creature an appalling likeness to Oliver. 
'He told me it was his mother, and she'd been there for five-and-
twenty years.' 
Arthur could hardly bear the terror that was in Margaret's eyes. He 
did not know what to say to her. In a little while she began to speak 
again, in a low voice and rapidly, as though to herself, and she 
wrung her hands. 
'Oh, you don't know what I've endured! He used to spend long 
periods away from me, and I remained alone at Skene from morning 
till night, alone with my abject fear. Sometimes, it seemed that he 
was seized with a devouring lust for the gutter, and he would go to 
Liverpool or Manchester and throw himself among the very dregs 
of the people. He used to pass long days, drinking in filthy pot-
houses. While the bout lasted, nothing was too depraved for him. 
He loved the company of all that was criminal and low. He used to 
smoke opium in foetid dens—oh, you have no conception of his 
passion to degrade himself—and at last he would come back, dirty, 
with torn clothes, begrimed, sodden still with his long debauch; and 
his mouth was hot with the kisses of the vile women of the docks. 
Oh, he's so cruel when the fit takes him that I think he has a fiendish 
pleasure in the sight of suffering!' 
It was more than Arthur could stand. His mind was made up to try 
a bold course. He saw on the table a whisky bottle and glasses. He 
poured some neat spirit into a tumbler and gave it to Margaret. 
'Drink this,' he said. 

---

'What is it?' 
'Never mind! Drink it at once.' 
Obediently she put it to her lips. He stood over her as she emptied 
the glass. A sudden glow filled her. 
'Now come with me.' 
He took her arm and led her down the stairs. He passed through the 
hall quickly. There was a cab just drawn up at the door, and he told 
her to get in. One or two persons stared at seeing a woman come out 
of that hotel in a teagown and without a hat. He directed the driver 
to the house in which Susie lived and looked round at Margaret. She 
had fainted immediately she got into the cab. 
When they arrived, he carried Margaret upstairs and laid her on a 
sofa. He told Susie what had happened and what he wanted of her. 
The dear woman forgot everything except that Margaret was very 
ill, and promised willingly to do all he wished. 
* * * * * 
For a week Margaret could not be moved. Arthur hired a little 
cottage in Hampshire, opposite the Isle of Wight, hoping that amid 
the most charming, restful scenery in England she would quickly 
regain her strength; and as soon as it was possible Susie took her 
down. But she was much altered. Her gaiety had disappeared and 
with it her determination. Although her illness had been neither 
long nor serious, she seemed as exhausted, physically and mentally, 
as if she had been for months at the point of death. She took no 
interest in her surroundings, and was indifferent to the shady lanes 
through which they drove and to the gracious trees and the 
meadows. Her old passion for beauty was gone, and she cared 
neither for the flowers which filled their little garden nor for the 
birds that sang continually. But at last it seemed necessary to discuss 
the future. Margaret acquiesced in all that was suggested to her, and 
agreed willingly that the needful steps should be taken to procure 
her release from Oliver Haddo. He made apparently no effort to 
trace her, and nothing had been heard of him. He did not know 
where Margaret was, but he might have guessed that Arthur was 

---

responsible for her flight, and Arthur was easily to be found. It 
made Susie vaguely uneasy that there was no sign of his existence. 
She wished that Arthur were not kept by his work in London. 
At last a suit for divorce was instituted. 
Two days after this, when Arthur was in his consultingroom, 
Haddo's card was brought to him. Arthur's jaw set more firmly. 
'Show the gentleman in,' he ordered. 
When Haddo entered, Arthur, standing with his back to the 
fireplace, motioned him to sit down. 
'What can I do for you?' he asked coldly. 
'I have not come to avail myself of your surgical skill, my dear 
Burdon,' smiled Haddo, as he fell ponderously into an armchair. 
'So I imagined.' 
'You perspicacity amazes me. I surmise that it is to you I owe this 
amusing citation which was served on me yesterday.' 
'I allowed you to come in so that I might tell you I will have no 
communication with you except through my solicitors.' 
'My dear fellow, why do you treat me with such discourtesy? It is 
true that you have deprived me of the wife of my bosom, but you 
might at least so far respect my marital rights as to use me civilly.' 
'My patience is not as good as it was,' answered Arthur, 'I venture to 
remind you that once before I lost my temper with you, and the 
result you must have found unpleasant.' 
'I should have thought you regretted that incident by now, O 
Burdon,' answered Haddo, entirely unabashed. 
'My time is very short,' said Arthur. 

---

'Then I will get to my business without delay. I thought it might 
interest you to know that I propose to bring a counter-petition 
against my wife, and I shall make you co-respondent.' 
'You infamous blackguard!' cried Arthur furiously. 'You know as 
well as I do that your wife is above suspicion.' 
'I know that she left my hotel in your company, and has been living 
since under your protection.' 
Arthur grew livid with rage. He could hardly restrain himself from 
knocking the man down. He gave a short laugh. 
'You can do what you like. I'm really not frightened.' 
'The innocent are so very incautious. I assure you that I can make a 
good enough story to ruin your career and force you to resign your 
appointments at the various hospitals you honour with your 
attention.' 
'You forget that the case will not be tried in open court,' said Arthur. 
Haddo looked at him steadily. He did not answer for a moment. 
'You're quite right,' he said at last, with a little smile. 'I had forgotten 
that.' 
'Then I need not detain you longer.' 
Oliver Haddo got up. He passed his hand reflectively over his huge 
face. Arthur watched him with scornful eyes. He touched a bell, and 
the servant at once appeared. 
'Show this gentleman out.' 
Not in the least disconcerted, Haddo strolled calmly to the door. 
Arthur gave a sigh of relief, for he concluded that Haddo would not 
show fight. His solicitor indeed had already assured him that Oliver 
would not venture to defend the case. 

---

Margaret seemed gradually to take more interest in the proceedings, 
and she was full of eagerness to be set free. She did not shrink from 
the unpleasant ordeal of a trial. She could talk of Haddo with 
composure. Her friends were able to persuade themselves that in a 
little while she would be her old self again, for she was growing 
stronger and more cheerful; her charming laughter rang through the 
little house as it had been used to do in the Paris studio. The case 
was to come on at the end of July, before the long vacation, and 
Susie had agreed to take Margaret abroad as soon as it was done. 
But presently a change came over her. As the day of the trial drew 
nearer, Margaret became excited and disturbed; her gaiety deserted 
her, and she fell into long, moody silences. To some extent this was 
comprehensible, for she would have to disclose to callous ears the 
most intimate details of her married life; but at last her nervousness 
grew so marked that Susie could no longer ascribe it to natural 
causes. She thought it necessary to write to Arthur about it. 
My Dear Arthur: 
I don't know what to make of Margaret, and I wish you would come 
down and see her. The good-humour which I have noticed in her of 
late has given way to a curious irritability. She is so restless that she 
cannot keep still for a moment. Even when she is sitting down her 
body moves in a manner that is almost convulsive. I am beginning 
to think that the strain from which she suffered is bringing on some 
nervous disease, and I am really alarmed. She walks about the 
house in a peculiarly aimless manner, up and down the stairs, in 
and out of the garden. She has grown suddenly much more silent, 
and the look has come back to her eyes which they had when first 
we brought her down here. When I beg her to tell me what is 
troubling her, she says: 'I'm afraid that something is going to 
happen.' She will not or cannot explain what she means. The last 
few weeks have set my own nerves on edge, so that I do not know 
how much of what I observe is real, and how much is due to my 
fancy; but I wish you would come and put a little courage into me. 
The oddness of it all is making me uneasy, and I am seized with 
preposterous terrors. I don't know what there is in Haddo that 
inspires me with this unaccountable dread. He is always present to 
my thoughts. I seem to see his dreadful eyes and his cold, sensual 

---

smile. I wake up at night, my heart beating furiously, with the 
consciousness that something quite awful has happened. 
Oh, I wish the trial were over, and that we were happy in Germany. 
Yours 
ever 
SUSAN BOYD 
Susie took a certain pride in her common sense, and it was 
humiliating to find that her nerves could be so distraught. She was 
worried and unhappy. It had not been easy to take Margaret back to 
her bosom as if nothing had happened. Susie was human; and, 
though she did ten times more than could be expected of her, she 
could not resist a feeling of irritation that Arthur sacrificed her so 
calmly. He had no room for other thoughts, and it seemed quite 
natural to him that she should devote herself entirely to Margaret's 
welfare. 
Susie walked some way along the road to post this letter and then 
went to her room. It was a wonderful night, starry and calm, and the 
silence was like balm to her troubles. She sat at the window for a 
long time, and at last, feeling more tranquil, went to bed. She slept 
more soundly than she had done for many days. When she awoke 
the sun was streaming into her room, and she gave a deep sigh of 
delight. She could see trees from her bed, and blue sky. All her 
troubles seemed easy to bear when the world was so beautiful, and 
she was ready to laugh at the fears that had so affected her. 
She got up, put on a dressing-gown, and went to Margaret's room. It 
was empty. The bed had not been slept in. On the pillow was a note. 
It's no good; I can't help myself. I've gone back to him. Don't trouble 
about me any more. It's quite hopeless and useless. 
M 
Susie gave a little gasp. Her first thought was for Arthur, and she 
uttered a wail of sorrow because he must be cast again into the 
agony of desolation. Once more she had to break the dreadful news. 
She dressed hurriedly and ate some breakfast. There was no train till 
nearly eleven, and she had to bear her impatience as best she could. 

---

At last it was time to start, and she put on her gloves. At that 
moment the door was opened, and Arthur came in. 
She gave a cry of terror and turned pale. 
'I was just coming to London to see you,' she faltered. 'How did you 
find out?' 
'Haddo sent me a box of chocolates early this morning with a card 
on which was written: