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Updated: June 29, 2025
I had hitherto failed to find any convincing reason for Jervaise's queer mark of confidence in me. I must own that I was distinctly uncomfortable as I followed Banks into the same room in which I had sat on my previous visit to the Home Farm. The influence of tradition and habit would not let me alone.
"You don't believe me?" I said. "Candidly, I don't," he replied. And at that my temper finally blazed. I could not bear any longer either that awful sense of frustration or the sight of Frank Jervaise's absurdly portentous scowl.
I thought that I had been lucky to get so easy an opening to produce the anecdote with relevance, and I counted on it for a good five minutes relief from the constraint of making polite conversation. Mrs. Jervaise's response began to open my eyes to the state of the new relations that now existed between myself and the rest of the party. She did not even allow me to begin.
"And nothing else would be big enough for four people and their luggage. But, as a matter of fact, Nora and I talked it all over with Mrs. Jervaise before prayers, and she said we weren't to think of going especially as it was all right, now, about Brenda." "I'm glad it is all right, if only for old Jervaise's sake," I said, craftily.
In the re-arrangement I managed to leave her on a lower step, and climbed to the throne of the gods, at present occupied only by Gordon Hughes, one of Frank Jervaise's barrister friends from the Temple. Hughes was reputed "brilliantly clever." He was a tallish fellow with ginger red hair and a long nose the foxy type. "Rum start!"
We were standing still in the moonlight at the edge of the wood and the accident of our position made me wonder if Jervaise's soul also hesitated between some gloomy prison of conventional success and the freedom of beautiful desires.
"Oh! of course," she agreed, with a look that I thought horribly sympathetic. I began to wonder if my first estimate of her based to a certain extent, perhaps, on Jervaise's admission that she did not like him had not been considerably too high.
Of course," Jervaise replied uneasily. "You've just looked?" Hughes insisted. "I know the car's there," was Jervaise's huffy evasion, and he took Ronnie by the arm and led him off into the drawing-room. The Hall door stood wide open, and the tragedy of the night flowed unimpeded through the house. Although the horror had not been named we all recognised its finality.
Was it not probable, I now wondered, that this influence was to be obtained by working on Jervaise's too tender devotion to his daughter? Was she, perhaps, to be urged as a last resource to bear on that gentle weakness by threat or cajolery? I began to wish that I had not been quite so friendly with Mr. Banks. I had been led away by the scent and glamour of the night.
The second is to see and to sympathise with my opponent's point of view. Both these failings betrayed me now. The blush seemed to proclaim my guilt; my sudden understanding of Jervaise's temper confirmed it. For, indeed, I understood precisely at that moment how enraged he must be against me. He, like Miss Tattersall, had been playing an underhand game, though his was different in kind.
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