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Updated: June 29, 2025
Annexed to the copy of that letter was the original of Dartie's drunken scrawl from the Iseeum Club. Soames could have wished it had not been so manifestly penned in liquor. Just the sort of thing the Court would pitch on. He seemed to hear the Judge's voice say: "You took this seriously! Seriously enough to write him as you did? Do you think he meant it?" Never mind!
And involuntarily he glanced up at the Iseeum; yes George was still in the window, with the same pink paper in his hand. "Where is Robin Hill, Father?" Robin Hill! Robin Hill, round which all that tragedy had centred! What did she want to know for? "In Surrey," he muttered; "not far from Richmond. Why?" "Is the house there?" "What house?" "That they quarrelled about." "Yes.
As he said to Major Scrotton, with whom he lunched at the Iseeum: "That little Jew boy, Nathans, had given him the tip. He didn't care a cursh. He wash in a mucker. If it didn't come up well then, damme, the old man would have to pay!" A bottle of Pol Roger to his own cheek had given him a new contempt for James. It came up. Concertina was squeezed home by her neck a terrible squeak!
They were all now married, except George, confirmed to the Turf and the Iseeum Club; Francie, pursuing her musical career in a studio off the King's Road, Chelsea, and still taking 'lovers' to dances; Euphemia, living at home and complaining of Nicholas; and those two Dromios, Giles and Jesse Hayman.
With another look round at the furniture, as if to gauge his sister's exact position, Soames went out towards Piccadilly. The evening was drawing in a touch of chill in the October haze. He walked quickly, with his close and concentrated air. He must get through, for he wished to dine in Soho. On hearing from the hall porter at the Iseeum that Mr.
Dartie had refused to go out of his way to see 'the old girl. With an early cocktail beside him, he had taken a 'squint' from the smoking-room of the Iseeum, so that Winifred and Imogen had been obliged to come back from the Park to fetch him thence. His brown eyes rested on Annette with a stare of almost startled satisfaction. The second beauty that fellow Soames had picked up!
At this high-water mark of what was once the London season, there was nothing to mark it out from any other except a grey top hat or two, and the sun. Jon moved on, and turning the corner into Piccadilly, ran into Val Dartie moving toward the Iseeum Club, to which he had just been elected. "Hallo! young man! Where are you off to?" Jon gushed. "I've just been to my tailor's."
Since the death of his brother-in-law Montague Dartie, in Paris, which no one had quite known what to make of, except that it was certainly not suicide the Iseeum Club had seemed more respectable to Soames.
At this high-water mark of what was once the London season, there was nothing to mark it out from any other except a grey top hat or two, and the sun. Jon moved on, and turning the corner into Piccadilly, ran into Val Dartie moving towards the Iseeum Club, to which he had just been elected. "Hallo! young man! Where are you off to?" Jon flushed. "I've just been to my tailor's."
The Iseeum, comfortable and unpretentious, did not move, could not, so long as George Forsyte sat on its Committee, where his culinary acumen was almost the controlling force. The Club had made a stand against the newly rich, and it had taken all George Forsyte's prestige, and praise of him as a "good sportsman," to bring in Prosper Profond.
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