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Updated: May 23, 2025
Chilcote stepped closer. "Why?" he insisted. "Because it couldn't work, man! Couldn't hold for a dozen hours." Chilcote put out his hand and touched his arm. "But why?" he urged. "Why? Give me one unanswerable reason." Loder shook off the hand and laughed, but below his laugh lay a suggestion of the other's excitement.
Chilcote, irritable, vicious, unstable, and a quick compassion for this woman so inevitably shackled to him followed it. Eve, unconscious of what was passing in his mind, went on with her subject. "When we were married," she said, gently, "I had such a great interest in things, such a great belief in life.
After the darkness of the passage it seemed well alight, for, besides the lamp with its green shade, a large fire burned in the grate and helped to dispel the shadows. As he entered the room Chilcote rose and came forward, his figure thrown into strong relief by the double light.
The words came jerkily, the strain that had enforced them showing in every syllable. Still Loder was uncomprehending; he could not, or would not, understand. Again Chilcote caught and jerked at his sleeve. "Don't you see? Can't you see?" "No." Chilcote dropped the sleeve and passed his handkerchief across his forehead. "It's come," he repeated. "Don't you understand? I want you."
Chilcote turned up the collar of his coat. "It was an atrocious fog, as black as this, but more universal. I remember it well. It was the night Lexington made his great sugar speech. Some of us were found on Lambeth Bridge at three in the morning, having left the House at twelve."
Loder involuntarily turned away. "I mean it," he said, slowly. "It's over; we've come to the end." "But why?" Chilcote articulated, blankly. "Why? Why?" In his confusion he could think of no better word. "Because I throw it up. My side of the bargain's off!" Again Chilcote's lips parted stammeringly.
For one second, as Loder's eyes' rested on the flowers, a sting of ungovernable jealousy shot through him; then as suddenly it died away, superseded by another feeling a feeling of new, spontaneous joy. Worn by Chilcote or by himself, the flowers were a symbol! "Well?" he said again, in a gentler voice. Chilcote had walked to the table and laid down his hat.
"Jack!" she said again, in a lower and still more effective tone; and, lifting her muff, she buried her face in her flowers. "I suppose I shall have to dine and go to a music-hall with Leonard or stay at home by myself," she murmured, looking out across the trees. Again Chilcote glanced over the long, tan-strewn ride. They had made the full circuit of the park.
He shivered a little as at some recollection. "But don't talk don't remind me of them. I hate a man who has no originality." He spoke sharply. At times he showed an almost childish irritation over trivial things. Allsopp took the remark in silence. Crossing the wide room, he began to lay out his master's clothes. The action affected Chilcote to fresh annoyance. "Confound it!" he said.
"How many?" he said, laconically. Chilcote lifted his head. His face was pitiably drawn, but the feverish brightness in his eyes had increased. "Five," he said, sharply. "Five. Do you hear, Loder?" "Five?" Involuntarily Loder lowered the hand that held the tube.
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