"The twenty minutes is up, sir."
"All right; I'll get out. Evening clothes."
And Meller, taking out dress suit and shirt, thought: 'Now, what does the old bloomer want dressin' up again for; why can't he go to bed and have his dinner there? When a man's like a baby, the cradle's the place for him.'....
An hour later, at the scene of his encounter with Mr. Ventnor, where the table was already laid for dinner, old Heythorp stood and gazed.
The curtains had been drawn back, the window thrown open to air the room, and he could see out there the shapes of the dark trees and a sky grape-coloured, in the mild, moist night. It smelt good. Asensuous feeling stirred in him, warm from his bath, clothed from head to foot in fresh garments. Deuce of a time since he had dined in full fig! He would have liked a woman dining opposite--but not the holy woman; no, by George!--would have liked to see light falling on a woman's shoulders once again, and a pair of bright eyes! He crossed, snail-like, towards the fire. There that bullying fellow had stood with his back to it--confound his impudence!--as if the place belonged to him. And suddenly he had a vision of his three secretaries' faces--especially young Farney's as they would look, when the pack got him by the throat and pulled him down. His co-directors, too! Old Heythorp! How are the mighty fallen! And that hound jubilant!
His valet passed across the room to shut the window and draw the curtains. This chap too! The day he could no longer pay his wages, and had lost the power to say "Shan't want your services any more"--when he could no longer even pay his doctor for doing his best to kill him off! Power, interest, independence, all--gone! To be dressed and undressed, given pap, like a baby in arms, served as they chose to serve him, and wished out of the way--broken, dishonoured!
By money alone an old man had his being! Meat, drink, movement, breath! When all his money was gone the holy woman would let him know it fast enough. They would all let him know it; or if they didn't, it would be out of pity! He had never been pitied yet--thank God! And he said:
"Get me up a bottle of Perrier Jouet. What's the menu?""Germane soup, sir; filly de sole; sweetbread; cutlet soubees, rum souffly.""Tell her to give me a hors d'oeuvre, and put on a savoury.""Yes, sir."
When the man had gone, he thought: 'I should have liked an oyster--too late now!' and going over to his bureau, he fumblingly pulled out the top drawer. There was little in it--Just a few papers, business papers on his Companies, and a schedule of his debts; not even a copy of his will--he had not made one, nothing to leave! Letters he had never kept. Half a dozen bills, a few receipts, and the little pink note with the blue forget-me-not. That was the lot! An old tree gives up bearing leaves, and its roots dry up, before it comes down in a wind; an old man's world slowly falls away from him till he stands alone in the night. Looking at the pink note, he thought:
'Suppose I'd married Alice--a man never had a better mistress!' He fumbled the drawer to; but still he strayed feebly about the room, with a curious shrinking from sitting down, legacy from the quarter of an hour he had been compelled to sit while that hound worried at his throat. He was opposite one of the pictures now. It gleamed, dark and oily, limning a Scots Grey who had mounted a wounded Russian on his horse, and was bringing him back prisoner from the Balaclava charge. A very old friend--bought in 'fifty-nine. It had hung in his chambers in the Albany--hung with him ever since. With whom would it hang when he was gone? For that holy woman would scrap it, to a certainty, and stick up some Crucifixion or other, some new-fangled high art thing! She could even do that now if she liked--for she owned it, owned every mortal stick in the room, to the very glass he would drink his champagne from; all made over under the settlement fifteen years ago, before his last big gamble went wrong. "De l'audace, toujours de l'audace!" The gamble which had brought him down till his throat at last was at the mercy of a bullying hound.
The pitcher and the well! At the mercy---! The sound of a popping cork dragged him from reverie. He moved to his seat, back to the window, and sat down to his dinner. By George! They had got him an oyster! And he said:
"I've forgotten my teeth!"
While the man was gone for them, he swallowed the oysters, methodically touching them one by one with cayenne, Chili vinegar, and lemon. Ummm! Not quite what they used to be at Pimm's in the best days, but not bad--not bad! Then seeing the little blue bowl lying before him, he looked up and said:
"My compliments to cook on the oysters. Give me the champagne." And he lifted his trembling teeth. Thank God, he could still put 'em in for himself! The creaming goldenish fluid from the napkined bottle slowly reached the brim of his glass, which had a hollow stem;raising it to his lips, very red between the white hairs above and below, he drank with a gurgling noise, and put the glass down-empty.
Nectar! And just cold enough!
"I frapped it the least bit, sir."
"Quite right. What's that smell of flowers?""It's from those 'yacinths on the sideboard, sir. They come from Mrs. Larne, this afternoon.""Put 'em on the table. Where's my daughter?""She's had dinner, sir; goin' to a ball, I think.""A ball!"
"Charity ball, I fancy, sir."
"Ummm! Give me a touch of the old sherry with the soup.""Yes, sir. I shall have to open a bottle:"
"Very well, then, do!"
On his way to the cellar the man confided to Molly, who was carrying the soup:
"The Gov'nor's going it to-night! What he'll be like tomorrow Idunno."
The girl answered softly:
"Poor old man, let um have his pleasure." And, in the hall, with the soup tureen against her bosom, she hummed above the steam, and thought of the ribbons on her new chemises, bought out of the sovereign he had given her.