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Only the week before, on his first visit to the new Chelsea quarters whither Cuningham and Watson had betaken themselves, he had stumbled upon an odd little scene in the still bare, ungarnished studio.
The picture was too painful to be borne; but it was neither common nor mean. Cuningham turned away from it with a shudder. 'Some of it's magnificent, Dick but I couldn't live with it if you paid me! 'Because you look at it wrongly, said Watson, gruffly. 'You take it as an anecdote. It isn't an anecdote it's a symbol. 'What? The World? and The Victim? from all time? and to all time?
In a few minutes Watson resented his attitude as offensive; he fell into a cold silence; Fenwick's half-concealed contempt threw him fiercely on his friend's side. 'Well, I've done the trick! said Cuningham, coming out jauntily, his hands in his trousers pockets; then, with a jerk of the head towards the studio, and a lowered voice, 'He's writing the cheque.
Meanwhile, Lord Findon had had a few whispered words with his daughter in an inner room. 'My dear! throwing up his hands 'a barbarian! Can't have him here again. 'Mr. Fenwick, papa? 'Of course. Cuningham ought to have warned me. However, I suppose I brought it on myself. I do these rash things, and must pay for them. He was so rude to De Chailles that I have had to apologise. 'Poor papa!
The North post had gone, but he might telegraph to Phoebe and write later. Meanwhile he would go over to Chelsea, and see Cuningham and Watson repay Watson his debt! or promise it at least for the morrow, when he should have had time to cash the cheque perhaps even pompous thought! to open a banking account.
The slight incredulity in his voice touched some raw nerve in Fenwick. 'I don't want anything, he said, almost angrily. 'I shall get through. Cuningham had been talking, no doubt. His affairs had been discussed. His morbid pride took offence at once. 'Mine'll just hold out, said Watson, presently, with a humorous inflexion 'it'll bury me, I think with a few shillings over.
And between him and the word unsaid there rises on the instant a tiny streamlet of division, which is to grow and broaden with the nights and days, till it flows, a stream of fate, not to be turned back or crossed; and all the familiar fields of life are ruined and blotted out. Finally, as the great patron was going, Cuningham whispered a word in his ear. Lord Findon turned to Fenwick.
At sight of the liveried servants within, Fenwick's pride asserted itself. He walked in, head erect, as though the place belonged to him. Lord Findon came pleasantly to greet them as they entered the drawing-room, and took them up to Lady Findon. Cuningham she already knew, and she gave a careless glance and a touch of the hand to his companion.
'I see! he said, and, laying down the knife, he threw himself into a chair, flushed and discomposed. 'Oh, you'll soon put it right! said Fenwick, encouragingly. Watson winced then nodded. 'May I see that book? He held out his hand, and Fenwick yielded it. Watson and Cuningham turned it over together.
Fenwick turned sharply, and again saw Cuningham, whose hansom had been blocked by the traffic, close to the pavement. He was hanging over the door, and smiling. In reply to the question, Fenwick merely shook his head. 'I had a capital letter from her ladyship a week or two ago, said Cuningham, raising his voice, and bringing himself as near to Fenwick as his position allowed.
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