The 
 SPHINX'S LAW^YEH 
 
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 ranhDanby 
 
 
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 -^13757 
 
 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Joseph Whitmore Barry 
 dramatic library 
 
 THE GUT OF 
 TWO FRIENDS 
 
 OF Cornell University 
 
 1934 
 
DATE DUE 
 
 8 '38 
 
 Cornell University Ljbrarv 
 PR6011.R187S7 
 
 The Sphinx's lawyer. 
 
 3 1924 013 614 221 
 
B Cornell University 
 B Library 
 
 The original of tliis bool< is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013614221 
 
The Sphinx's Lawyer 
 
Bew Q>s. *oaovels 
 
 THE ANGEL OF PAIN. By E. F. Benson, Author of 
 " The Image in the Sand," 
 Of which the Manchester Courier said : " The most powerful 
 novel this clever writer has yet written — the novel of a decade 
 at least." 
 
 THE MAN OF PROPERTY. By J. Galsworthy, Author 
 of "The Island Pharisees." 
 *' A novel with ideas — a type of fiction none too common in 
 England." — Times on ** The Island Pharisees." 
 
 WHAT BECAME OF PAM. By the Baroness Von 
 
 HUTTEN. 
 
 A sequel to " Pam," of which the Daily Telegraph said: 
 " The best story we have read for many a long day." 
 
 WILD JUSTICE. By Lloyd Osbourke, Author of " Baby 
 Bullet." 
 '* A charming and amusing sketch.'' — AthencEum on " Baby 
 Bullet." 
 
 THE SIN OF GEORGE WARRENER. By Marie 
 VAN VORST, Author of " Amanda of the Mill." 
 "Amanda is a finely-composed and bewitching figure.*' — Pall 
 Ma.ll Gazette, 
 
 A LAME DOG'S DIARY. By S. Macnaughton. 
 " Reminds us of ' Cranford' — exquisitely graceful." 
 
 Spectator. 
 TALES OF THE FISH PATROL. By Jack London, 
 Author of**The Call of the AVild," &c. 
 "Evokes memoriesof Stevensonian romance." — MorningPost. 
 
 FATE'S INTRUDER. By Frank Savile and A. E. T. 
 Watson. 
 " Thrillingly interesting." — Glasgow Herald. 
 
 BLUE JAY. By Peggy Wkbling. 
 " A delightfully fresh and interesting story." 
 
 Daily Telegraph, 
 A VENDETTA IN VANITY FAIR. By Esther 
 Miller, Author of " A Prophet of the Real," &c. 
 
 JULES OF THE GREAT HEART. By Lawrence Mott. 
 "A brilliant and deserved success." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 THE LAKE. By George Moore, Author of " Esther 
 Waters," &c 
 " So finely written that we must class it with prose poems." 
 
 Times. 
 
 LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN 
 21 Bedford Street, W.C. 
 
The 
 
 Sphinx's Lawyer 
 
 By 
 
 Frank Danby 
 
 Author 01 
 
 " Pigs in Clover," " Baccarat," " Dr. Phillips •, a Maida 
 
 Vale Idyll," "A Babejn Bohemia," etc. 
 
 London 
 
 William Heinemann 
 mcmvi 
 
Copyright igo6 hy William Heinemann 
 
 /\UfM 
 
TO 
 MY BEOTHEE 
 
 "OWEN HALL" 
 
 Because you " hate and loathe" my book and its subject, 
 I dedicate it to you. For, incidentally, your harsh criti- 
 cism has intensified my conviction of the righteousness of 
 the cause I plead, and revolt from your narrow judgment 
 has strengthened me against any personal opprobrium 
 that such pleading may bring upon me. I have heard 
 all your argument ; I know where I stand. It is at 
 the foot of the Throne of Mercy, with my client by 
 my side, the client of the Sphinx's Lawyer. You, as 
 well as I, know what he was in his brilliant youth, you, 
 no less than I, know how weak he was in his strength, 
 of what flawed physique and untoward inheritance. 
 Pity was the one unsounded note in the chorus of 
 execration that followed this poor leper to the grave, 
 and beyond it ; to awaken pity I have written. For 
 was it not pitiful to see that fine brain set in that un- 
 stable body ? 
 
 What I have written of him whom I have called 
 Algernon Heseltine, I have written in all sincerity, and 
 from deep conviction. I have no serious fear of being 
 misjudged, although you, who have always been so 
 generous in your estimate of my small talent, and 
 appreciative beyond my deserts, now warn me that my 
 
hatred of cruelty will be misinterpreted for sympathy 
 with the crime, instead of with the agony, of him who 
 suffered. 
 
 Algernon Heseltine is the one figure in my book 
 drawn from life. The woman I have placed by his 
 side, is one whom fiction and not fact assigned to 
 this sad post ; his friends and his disciples, are fancy 
 pictures, not attempted portraits. And the scenes in 
 which they act are invented scenes, not remembered 
 ones. Save for Algernon Heseltine, the book is all 
 imaginative. 
 
 Knowing this, all the violence of your antipathy 
 converges to one point, and can be summed up in a 
 sentence. You assert — asseverate is, perhaps, the 
 better word — that such a career as I have indicated is 
 outside the region of art. I join issue with you here, 
 and leave the public to arbitrate between us. 
 
Wer nie sein Brot mit Thrcinen ass, 
 
 Wev nie die kummervollen Ncichte 
 
 Auf seinem Bette weinend sass, 
 
 Der kennt eucli nicht, ihr himmlischen Miichte ! 
 
 Ihrfilhrt in's Leben wis hinein, 
 Ihr lasst den Armen schuldig werden, 
 Dann iiberlasst ihr ihn der Pein, 
 Denn alle Schuld racht sich auf Erden. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 " 149 Prince's Gate 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Hbsbltinb, — 
 
 " You have spoken several times to me of your 
 friend, Mr. Welch-Kennard ; you will remember I sat 
 next to him the night of your supper-party at the 
 Carlton. Do you know if he is a good lawyer ? I am 
 not mistaken in thinking you told me he was a lawyer, 
 am I? 
 
 I find it difficult to get over the loss of my husband. 
 Of course, these are early days, but I feel so bewildered, so 
 at sea, without him. My cousin, Fred Darcy, has been 
 helping me, but now he thinks I ought to have my own 
 ' adviser.' Fred acts for Darcy Bros., and it seems there 
 is some doubt as to the value of my interest in the busi- 
 ness. It is all very comphcated and worrying, and I'm 
 terribly ignorant about such matters. Poor Norman 
 has left everything to me, and I am his sole executrix. 
 So, if Mr. Welch-Kennard is a lawyer, and is clever* 
 wiU you send me his address at once ? 
 
 " Yours, in great haste, 
 
 " Berenioe Darcy." 
 
2 THE SPHINX'S LAWYEK 
 
 " My Dear,— 
 
 " I am so sorry you are in trouble. And yet I 
 envy you. For you are going to have Errington Welch- 
 Kennard to help you, and that is sufficient to turn 
 trouble into pleasure. I won't rave about him ; I'll 
 leave you to find him out for yourself. I have raved 
 about him to you once or twice, though, haven't I ? 
 Well ! he is a thousand times more than I have told 
 you. Clever, kind, a splendid friend, quite different 
 in his ' frock-coat and high-hat ' ofiice manner from 
 what he was at the Carlton, but unique always. The 
 address is 138 Southampton Street ; I have written to 
 him for you. How wise of you to think of sending for 
 him. Young, beautiful, £8000 a year, and Kennard ! 
 Oh ! my dear, what a lucky woman you are. Come 
 and see me soon, and teU me all about it. I shall be 
 dying to hear. 
 
 " Why do you call me ' Mrs. Heseltine,' by the way ? 
 Nobody else does. My friends, and I had begun to count 
 you amongst them, call me ' Sybil.' To Errington, and 
 to my intimates, I am the ' Sphinx.' But do not think 
 from that, that I am not proud of my name. Here, I 
 write it for you : 
 
 " Sybil Algernon Heseltine." 
 
 She could not trust her letters to the post. But 
 then, Sybil Heseltine was always impulsive ; she was 
 hardly less so now than in her youth. She wrote her 
 other letter in an incoherent hiirry, and despatched 
 them both by cab. If Mr. Welch-Kennard was not 
 at the address to which she sent it, the cabman was 
 to try — she mentioned two clubs, and a set of 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 3 
 
 chambers. He must find him, he must bring back an 
 answer. 
 
 Sybil's imagination carried her a long way, after 
 she had had Berenice Darcy's note ; but then, the road 
 was already famihar. 
 
 This is what she wrote to the lawyer : 
 
 " Hans Crescent. 
 " Deae ' Brigham,' — 
 
 " You've had another success ! The original 
 Brigham wasn't in it with you. Mrs. Norman Darcy 
 has just written me for your address ! Do, do every- 
 thing you can for her. She was the red-haired woman 
 in a green frock who sat next to you at supper the 
 first night of Richard II. I know you said you did not 
 admire her, but, if you were not as untruthful as I 
 suspected, you were quite wrong. She was smitten 
 with you, of course. She told me the next day that 
 she hked the way your mouth turned up, instead of 
 down, at the corners, and the shape of your head. 
 I never told her you said she was like an unfinished 
 sketch for a skeleton, by Eossetti ! My brigade think 
 her dark eyes go awfully well with her red hair. And 
 you admitted she might fill out. Anyway, her husband 
 has died suddenly, and left her trustee or executrix, or 
 something, to his will ; she is awfully rich. I know 
 you are made for each other, as soUcitor and cUent, 
 of course, I mean. Isn't it imselfish of me to want to 
 give you to her ? But Apollo has been so sweet lately. 
 Come and tell me all about everything, directly it 
 happens, or before ! 
 
 " Yours, as always, 
 
 " Sybil.' 
 
4 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 "Paek Placb, 
 
 " St. James's. 
 " Dear, but Insceutable, SPHmx, — 
 
 " I am, as always, completely at your service. 
 I shall be charmed to help your friend, although I did 
 not quite like the colour of her hair. 
 
 " A beau jour, beau retour. You must gently 
 asphyxiate, or find some other means of getting rid 
 of, Frank Dickinson ; his moustache is too small for 
 him, he has outgrown it perhaps. Anyway, it has got 
 on my nerves. 
 
 " About your unselfishness. Amor a nullo amato 
 amor perdona. Hyperion also should be gently diplo- 
 matised into absenting himself this afternoon. I am 
 going to see you after I have been to Prince's Gate 
 I am off there now. Her letter arrived with yours. 
 
 " Your slave, 
 ■■ "E. W.-K." 
 
 It was many weeks since Norman Darcy had died, 
 but a funereal air still hung about the Prince's Gate 
 house. The solemn butler, who opened the door in a 
 quiet, almost surreptitious, manner, was the janitor of 
 a square and gloomy haU. After he had scrutinised 
 Mr. Welch-Kennard's professional card : 
 
 MR. WELCH-KENNARD. 
 
 Messks. Kbnnahd and Caekbe, 
 
 128 SmUhmnpton Street, Strand. 
 
 he admitted, somewhat reluctantly, that Mrs. Darcy 
 was at home. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 5 
 
 The library opened direct from the dingy hall, but, 
 quickly as Welch-Kennard followed his name into 
 the room, he had received a distinct impression of its 
 furnishment. He was sorry for his new client before 
 he had heard her troubles. To hve among such sur- 
 roundings, to enter her home through such a hall, 
 must be an appalling experience for such a woman as 
 he recollected seeing at the Carlton supper-party. It had 
 a marbled paper, and the whole of one side of the wall 
 was taken up by a huge oil painting by Landseer, 
 representing a kilted Scotsman with a hound at his 
 feet, holding up some dead birds. There was a marble 
 bust, probably of some defunct Darcy, in the further 
 corner. Other game-pieces were on the walls. That 
 was all he had seen before he found himself in the 
 room, shaking hands with his new cHent ; but that had 
 been enough. 
 
 She rose from the table to greet him ; she had been 
 listening to the two elderly men, who retained their seats, 
 and the younger, shghter man, who stood on the hearth- 
 rug with his back to the fire. Papers and black bags 
 littered the harshness of the red-jute Victorian tablecloth. 
 The room was large, modern, prosaic, heavy with 
 mahogany furniture, commonplace with Turkey carpet 
 and unpictorial family portraits. The first thought that 
 struck him was how right his impression of the haU had 
 been. Berenice Darcy was as absurdly incongruous 
 there as a Corot would have been hanging above 
 the Landseer. She was not tall ; her beauty was rather 
 that of colouring than of features. Welch-Kennard 
 had thought her strangely attractive in her green 
 evening-dress that night at the Carlton, with her ex- 
 
6 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 qxiisitely transparent skin, bright eyes, and red, soft 
 lips. Her widow's cap, and narrow collar, her crife 
 and mourning garb, had not subdued her special 
 attraction. He shook hands with her, saying a few appro- 
 priate, weU-chosen words, which she acknowledged 
 less aptly. After his brief introduction to the others, 
 they plunged at once into the business of the hour. 
 
 Norman Darcy, after a hfetime of semi-invahdism, 
 had died suddenly, leaving his affairs comparatively in 
 disorder. The two elderly men at the table had been 
 his business partners ; the stiff and obvious Oxonian 
 near the fire, wearing glasses, young, but with nothing 
 fresh or youthful about him, was Fred Darcy, cousin to 
 Berenice's late husband, a lawyer too, and at the moment 
 dominating the situation, such as it was. Welch-Kennard 
 grasped all this quickly, dissociating Mrs. Darcy from 
 her surroundings. She was too attractive for the 
 position in which she found herself, that was obvious ; 
 but she was interested in it, she was young enough to 
 find any novelty, even widowhood, interesting. What 
 he was doing in this gaUre was another matter. Before 
 he arrived, it had seemed to him that this was one of the 
 Sphinx's subtle jokes. Being there, however, he in- 
 tended to see the adventure through, if indeed it should 
 prove to be an adventure, as he began to hope. 
 
 " Will you put Mr. Welch-Kennard in possession of 
 all the facts ? Will you tell him about everything, 
 and why you thought I must have my own lawyer ? " 
 she asked Fred, a little shyly. She felt the position 
 to be strange. It was Errington Welch-Kennard who 
 made it ^appear so. If he felt her incongruity, she felt 
 his no less acutely. She remembered that which she 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 7 
 
 had forgotten, put aside, during Norman's brief death 
 struggle, and since his death. She remembered the drive 
 home from the Carlton, after the supper-party, and many 
 of the things this man had said to her. Her colour flushed 
 suddenly, whilst Fred was making his dry, business 
 statement. Errington wondered at it, he could not trace 
 that sudden flush. 
 
 Ered Darcy, at Berenice's request, stated the position, 
 none too briefly. It was evident he considered himself 
 one of its chief features. His cousin's will had been 
 drawn up some few years ago, before he, Fred Darcy, 
 was in a position to advise him. But he was soUcitor 
 to Messrs. Darcy Bros., and, as it appeared to him, on 
 perusing the will, and reaUsing its provisions, that the 
 interests of Mrs. Norman Darcy and those of Messrs. 
 Darcy Bros, might not prove identical, he had thought 
 it better that she should have her own representative. 
 There was a happy mixture of priggishness and authority 
 in his address. Errington Welch-Kennard, who was a 
 man of many worlds, decided that Fred must have been 
 a scholar of his coUege, probably a gold-medalhst, the 
 finished product of the examination boards. He was 
 evidently proud of his integrity, and his disinterestedness 
 in giving such advice. 
 
 " Decidedly," commented Welch-Kennard, airily — 
 he had not begun to take Fred, or the position, seriously — 
 " Decidedly, it is better for all parties that interests not 
 identical should be safeguarded antagonistically." 
 
 Fred looked at him combatively ; the syllogism hardly 
 met the point, and he would have Uked to argue its 
 form, but the occasion was inauspicious. After a short 
 pause, he went on. 
 
8 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 It appeared that the partnership deed was an old 
 one ; it had been drawn up nearly thirty years ago, 
 and various unanticipated, trade and family, complica- 
 tions had made the provisions debatable, if not in- 
 operative. Fred said that, since the affairs had come 
 into his hands, he had repeatedly mentioned the matter 
 to every member of the firm, separately or together; 
 but Norman Darcy's health, and the dehcacy and con- 
 sideration of his partners, had constantly postponed 
 action. Now they were confronted with this situation, 
 which Fred Darcy continued to explain more or less 
 lucidly. 
 
 Berenice was but vaguely interested in this dull 
 business talk; Fred had said it all to her before, and it 
 seemed merely the difference between tweedledum and 
 tweedledee. Before she had written to Sybil Heseltine 
 for his address, and many times since, she had wondered 
 how Mr. Welch-Kennard would present himself to her, 
 in the light of a sober business day. 
 
 His image, notwithstanding the many times Sybil 
 had spoken of him, had grown dim through the troubles 
 that sprang up to meet her immediately after the 
 supper-party ; but gradually it had been reviving. 
 Had her motives been mixed, in assenting so readily 
 to Fred's suggestion that she should have her own 
 lawyer ? 
 
 Now he was here, she knew he filled the foreground. 
 Yet the sobriety of his aspect, of his few crisp, interjected 
 sentences, contrasted strangely with the brilliant per- 
 sonahty which had magnetised her for one curious 
 hour amid the electric hghts and gaiety of the Carlton 
 supper-party. The instinctive insincerity of their 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 9 
 
 mutual attraction had expended itself in their admis- 
 sions to their mutual friend. He had admired her ; 
 and denied it. She had known both his address, and 
 his profession, she had looked up both in the post office 
 directory. Errington Welch-Kennard was not a common 
 name ; there was no difficulty in identifying both him 
 and his firm. Her letter to Sybil had been disingenuous, 
 and she had no excuse for her want of candour. 
 
 At the Carlton, in evening-dress, he had simply been 
 an unusually handsome man of about thirty-five, tall, 
 clean-shaven, looking like a barrister. Of course, she 
 had noted the upward curve at the corners of his Ups, 
 and the sweetness of his smile, his fine profile, with the 
 sweep of the hair behind the delicate ears that lay so 
 flat against his head, the grey-green depths in liis 
 luminous eyes, the grace of his movements. 
 
 But it was Fred who had insisted that she must send 
 for a lawyer within a month after Norman's death ; she 
 disowned the responsibihty of it to herself with a certain 
 little thrill and misgiving, as she watched Welch-Kennard. 
 
 Whilst Fred continued to expound her affairs, she 
 remembered, also, that her new lawyer's reputation had 
 preceded their introduction. Sybil had told her that he 
 had been the lover of many women. His sensitiveness to 
 sex influence, to which she had vaguely Ustened, but 
 which she could note, should have repelled her sym- 
 pathies. Yet, he had differed in many ways from her 
 preconceived notions, and her outlook had certainly 
 broadened since she had known Sybil Heseltine. 
 
 Many times since that evening she had found herself 
 thinking of him ; he had even intruded into her dreams. 
 She had wished, at the Carlton, that he had been less 
 
10 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 talkative, less the animated centre of the party, 
 and given her greater opportunity to trace the psych- 
 ology of him. But this afternoon she wished, quite 
 definitely, that he would talk, would take the baU from 
 Fred, would make himself felt ; she tried to force him to 
 do so, interrupted to put a question to him, appealed 
 to him to enhghten her on this or the other point. But 
 he, as it were, referred her to Fred, and Fred's 
 lucidity made it impossible for her not to understand. 
 
 The matter seemed quite simple. The books of 
 the business must be entered to date, examined, the 
 probate and estate dues satisfied, certain papers filled 
 up, oaths administered and declarations filed ; all this 
 was almost mechanical. The question was, as the sole 
 beneficiary under her husband's will, his sole executrix 
 and administratrix, to what share in the business that 
 bore his name, its profits or habilities, was she en- 
 titled ? 
 
 It was only when the dusk of the winter day had 
 begun' to deepen into twihght that the growing desire to 
 hear the other speak, the wish to stay Fred's monotonous 
 periods, hurried her into error. She put a slender hand 
 on Welch-Kennard's coat-sleeve. 
 
 " Is it all clear to you ? Can you, will you, act for 
 me?" 
 
 He turned to her quickly. The curious attraction 
 about the man was, after all, as obvious to her to-day 
 as it had been at the Carlton. That he was conscious 
 of her, too, not as a oUent, but as a woman, was evident 
 in the hght that gleamed in his eyes as they met hers, 
 in the inflection of his voice as he answered. He 
 touched, one had almost said, he patted, the hand that 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 11 
 
 rested on his arm. But the gesture, protective, reassur- 
 ing, was still part of the discreet professional manner 
 that he had assumed with the decorous frock-coat and 
 grey gloves. 
 
 " Certainly, make your mind perfectly easy ; I will 
 act for you, with you." The last two words were low, 
 for her ear alone. 
 
 It was extraordinary how Uttle he said, yet how 
 deep the undercurrent seemed to be of the wave of 
 mutual understanding that swept over her when he 
 spoke, when he looked at her. Had she been wrong in 
 sending for him ? But it was necessary for her to have 
 a lawyer, even Fred himself had said that. Then, why 
 not one who interested her ? She thought of Sybil's 
 aphorism, that aU women of the middle classes were in 
 love with their clergymen or doctors ; and she wondered 
 why not with their lawyers also. She Ustened as Kennard 
 addressed the httle meeting. She need have had no 
 fear that the others would find her selection of a legal 
 adviser strange, unusual. It was only she who saw 
 him otherwise than completely grave, and much im- 
 pressed by the matter in hand. 
 
 He began by thanking Fred Darcy for his statement, 
 with an appreciative word as to its manner. Then he 
 added, with a courteous but perfectly dignified appeal 
 for their consideration : 
 
 " The facts are all new to me, gentlemen. I shall 
 ask you for a short time in which to consider the case. 
 If you will leave these papers in my possession until 
 to-morrow, and then do me the honour of meeting me 
 again, either here or at my office, I hope to be in the 
 position to make a suggestion to you that will prove 
 
12 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 acceptable. A short conference with my chent " — he 
 turned to her, and now there was not a shade in his face, 
 nor a tone in his voice, that they might not all see and 
 hear — " if she will spare me half an horn-, will assist me 
 considerably." 
 
 She inchned her head, in acceptance of the suggestion ; 
 the prospect of a tete-a-tete with him brought again that 
 curious httle thrill. 
 
 " May I take it, then, that this suits us all ; to-morrow, 
 at the same hour ? " 
 
 Finally, after the shghtest possible consultation, it 
 was decided that they should meet again in Prince's 
 Gate, to hear what Mr. Welch-Kennard would suggest. 
 
 Practically this dismissed Fred and the partners. 
 Although tea, and whisky and soda, a certain bustle 
 and delay of gathering together papers, and hats, and 
 coats, filled another quarter of an hour, the meeting was 
 over. 
 
 Nobody was antipathetic to Norman Darcy's widow, 
 or her interests ; both partners were rich men. Each 
 of them, as he said good-bye, tried to convey his feehngs 
 in kindly awkwardness. Fred Darcy would have hn- 
 gered. He seemed to expect Mr. Weloh-Kennard to 
 press him to remain and assist ; but Kennard made it 
 obvious by his immobihty that he had no such intention. 
 Finally, therefore, Fred also, somewhat awkwardly, 
 withdrew. 
 
 The door was hardly closed, the echo of the footsteps, 
 and the sound of the voices, were still in the hall, when 
 Welch-Kennard discarded what Sybil called his " six- 
 and-eightpeimy maimer," and, with his eyes and face 
 ahght, became the Welch-Kennard of the many ad- 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 13 
 
 ventures. He sprang from his seat, and went over to 
 his new client. 
 
 " You dear little woman, you dear unconventional 
 little woman," he began impulsively. " How sweet of 
 you it was to send for me. I longed to come, I wanted 
 to fly to you the moment I heard you were in trouble." 
 
 Her colour deepened a little, she got up nervously 
 from her chair, she was suddenly shy. 
 
 " It is good to have got rid of them, isn't it ? good to 
 be without the chaperonage of those three lugubrious 
 frock-coats." 
 
 She really was only a girl, her four-and- twenty years, 
 three of them passed as Norman Darcy's wife, had not 
 even taught her self-possession. Welch-Kennard was 
 exhilarated by her obvious embarrassment. 
 
 " So you had not forgotten that evening at the 
 Carlton ! I wonder if you would care to hear how 
 much I have thought about it, how often I have thought 
 about it. I haunted Sybil just to hear her talk of 
 you. You know," he went on, " you know that that 
 one meeting is no gauge of our intimacy. The Sphinx 
 has talked about you to me by the hour together." 
 
 " Oh ! Sybil ! Sybil is an enthusiast." She moved 
 away from him, then restlessly toward the window. 
 " I wonder whether they got wet," she said irrelevantly, 
 " it has just begun to rain." 
 
 He followed her, dismissing the weather easily. 
 
 " I rivalled her immediately in this one of her en- 
 thusiasms. You knew that, didn't you 1 Don't tell 
 me we did not begin to understand each other that 
 wonderful evening. Isn't that why you let me see you 
 home ? What an absurdly short drive it was ! Isn't 
 
14 THE SPHINX'S LAWYBE 
 
 that why you have sent for me ? I hke that pink flush 
 with your Venetian hair." 
 
 She had turned hastily toward him, as if to deny 
 that it was the reason she had sent for him. 
 
 " Good God ! what a wonderful complexion you have. 
 Did ever any one tell you so before ? — But, of course, 
 they have " 
 
 " No, no one has ever taken the hberty of discussing 
 my personal appearance with me," she said hurriedly, 
 with an unsuccessful attempt at dignity of bearing. 
 " I am sure only one of Sybil's friends would have 
 thought of doing so. Presently you will be congratulat- 
 ing me on the becomingness of my widow's cap." 
 
 She laughed rather unsteadily. 
 
 " I sent for you because Fred, Mr. Darcy, thought I 
 ought to have my own lawyer. Please go back to your 
 legal manner, I — I hke it better, it is more appropriate. 
 Talk of my afiairs, not of me. What do you want 
 to ask me about ? You said you wanted half an hour 
 with me, alone." 
 
 " Of course." He was quite prompt. " I have 
 wanted an hour alone with you ever since we first met- 
 Didn't you reahse that, when you wouldn't let me 
 come in that evening, when you 'door-stepped/ me 
 so coolly ? I have a thousand things to ask and tell 
 you. But fijst, are you very intimate with that young 
 lawyer-cousin of j-ours — from Balhol, isn't he 1 He has 
 the pecuhar Balhol vanity, and accent. Do you hke 
 him, trust him ? " 
 
 " Both," she answered quickly, glad to be, as she 
 thought, on safe ground. "It is not because I do not 
 trust Fred Darcy completely that I wanted a lawyer 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 15 
 
 of my own. It was his suggestion, not mine. He 
 was my husband's best, and our most intimate, friend." 
 
 " I am not talking of friendship, nor in the plural. 
 He is in love with you, of course ; that is easily seen. 
 And you ? How about you ? " 
 
 Again she flushed that colovir he had admired. It 
 was, perhaps, not new to her that Fred admired her ; 
 but, neither during her husband's hfetime, nor in the few 
 short weeks since his death, had he told her so. All the 
 Darcys were men of honour. They were not brilhant, 
 nor magnetic, hke this strange friend of Sybil Hesel- 
 tine's, but— they were men of honovir. ' i 
 
 " I wish you would not talk hke that," she said ; 
 moving away from him again, restlessly. 
 
 " Do you ? Well, you shall tell me how I may talk," 
 he answered pleasantly ; " come away from the window, 
 from that dreary outlook ; you need not look at me, if 
 you don't care to " ; for, of course, he had intercepted her 
 hurried glance, and his strange eyes had smiled at her, "but 
 there must be a better alternative than the dripping park." 
 
 He wheeled the sofa a httle forward for her, more in 
 front of the fire. 
 
 " Sit here." 
 
 She hked being taken care of, she subsided quite 
 gladly on to the sofa. 
 
 " There, that's better. You are over-tired, and you 
 have been over-worried ; we must alter all that ! Let 
 me put a pillow for your head. What ugly things you 
 have about you, and most of them in the wrong places ! 
 Why don't you have silk cushions ? Blue, Venetian blue 
 is what your hair really wants for a background, or green." 
 He lodked at her reflectively. " Now we can talk." 
 
16 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Ste found herself reclining in a corner of tlie Chester- 
 field sofa. He had flung a careless arm along its back. 
 His broad shoulders and big hmbs made her feel shy, 
 insignificant ; so did his manner. She was not sure 
 she hked him to-day. He looked so happy and amused, 
 his eyes were shining. 
 
 " It is good to be together, isn't it ? The Carlton is 
 
 all very well for a start, but, for a good finish " 
 
 There was something intimate, challenging, incompre- 
 hensible, in the way he looked at her. She began to hear 
 the quick beats of her heart. 
 
 Welch-Kennard had known many women, but he 
 could not quite place this one. Her fluctuating colour 
 puzzled and attracted him, her shyness and graceful 
 awkwardness perplexed and rather excited him. 
 
 But she was a friend of the Sphinx, and surely. . . . 
 
 Then, too, she had sent for him, and he could not 
 easily beheve it was only on account of those unexercised 
 legal abilities of his that she had preferred him to any 
 other lawyer ! 
 
 " Let us first get clear about this cousin," he said. 
 " We must not go on talking at cross-purposes. I want 
 to understand you ; I must understand you. Will you 
 give me your hand for a moment ? " He took it easily 
 in his own. " I studied palmistry in the East, and all 
 the things you will not tell me I shall be able to read in 
 this httle hand." 
 
 " Will it help you with my law afiairs ? " She tried 
 to be satirical, not very successfully. 
 
 " Certainly, decidedly, not a doubt about it." 
 Although her eyes avoided his, she knew he was stiU 
 smiling. " How can I advise you when I do not know 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 17 
 
 whether you are weak or strong, yielding or firm ? 
 Perhaps I shall find you want trustees, guardians, 
 perhaps I shall find you want only — me ! " 
 
 She was still not sure that she hked him, or that she 
 was going to hke him. She was almost sorry she had 
 sent for him. But the days had been so dull, so long, 
 since Norman had left her ; the only unkind thing 
 Norman had ever done was to die, and leave her so 
 alone. And Fred had said she must have good advice. 
 She had grown appalled in the last few weeks by her 
 utter lonehness. 
 
 She was not sure, however, that she was less frightened 
 now by this big man, of whom, after all, she knew so httle, 
 who was holding her hand and looking at her so strangely. 
 Yet the hand that held hers was human, pleasant to her 
 touch ; she had been intolerably lonely. And — and, 
 perhaps, there was something in palmistry after all ! 
 
 " Do you really beheve in it ? " she asked unsteadily, 
 as he bent his head and seemed to be examining the lines 
 intently. " Tell me what you find ? What do you 
 expect to find 1 " 
 
 " I am reading your past. Hush, don't interrupt me." 
 But she was too restless and excited to sit still and not 
 speak. 
 
 " And my future ? " she asked. She felt his breath 
 on the palm he held upturned to his intent gaze. 
 
 " Won't you move the sofa back for me a little from 
 the fire ? It's too hot here." She spoke nervously, 
 for his silence grew oppressive; she wanted him to 
 talk. 
 
 From her hand his eyes were lifted reflectively, 
 to her face. He looked his fill ; her changing colour only 
 
18 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 made him smile inwardly. He Kked the way the wavy 
 auburn hair grew low on her forehead. The dark eyes, 
 with their large pupils, were quite beautiful ; he thought 
 he reahsed why they were dilated. He had known so 
 many emotional women. But Berenice shrank rather 
 into her comer of the sofa, she was playing her rol 
 very well, he thought. 
 
 " Have you read my past ? Let me hear if you have 
 read it rightly. And my future," she repeated, " what 
 of that ? " Her low, nervous voice charmed him, and 
 the fluctuating colour was really entrancing. 
 
 " Your future will depend upon your past, of course." 
 
 He compelled her eyes. 
 
 " I will tell you both, if you give me time, both your 
 past and your future. Since you have sent for me to 
 take care of you— — " 
 
 " Not of me, of my business affairs. It was Fred's 
 idea ! " she interrupted excitedly. 
 
 " Yes, of course, of your affairs, and of you," he 
 answered coolly. " I never do anything by halves. 
 Your affairs and you will be one. I have not decided 
 upon assuming the responsibihty of either — yet." 
 
 She tried to withdraw her hand ; he had held it too 
 long. It made her apprehensive, it tired her, to have her 
 hand in that position. And she was getting so warm, 
 the sofa was much too near the fire. 
 
 " I can look after myself," she answered ; " I don't 
 want you to look after me." 
 
 " It's really not a question of what only you want- 
 now." He dropped his voice when he added the la§t 
 word, softly. 
 
 " I think, mind, I only think, I want — you. Give 
 
THE SPHI^JX'S LAWYER J9 
 
 me back your hand; do keep still, cheiromancy is 
 not quackery, not guess-work, it is a genuine science, 
 it wants steady attention. I can see nothing if you 
 fidget. What Uttle hands you have, five and three- 
 quarters, I suppose, and the palms so pink ! " 
 
 Again she tried to draw her hand away. She was 
 anguished in her sudden remembrance of the occasion, 
 of her mourning, of poor Norman. Of course, she knew 
 the language he was talking, the famihar language 
 that all women understand. But she could not, must 
 not, Usten to it now. Norman had had a personality, 
 in philanthropic circles Norman Darcy's had been a name 
 to conjure with. She could not, she must not, forget him 
 so soon. Her widowhood was so recent. 
 
 Welch-Keimard did not oppose the withdrawal of her 
 hand. He only continued to look at her, to smile at her ; 
 he pressed the hand before he reUnquished it. 
 
 He stood up now, and stretched himself. 
 
 How big he was ! She suddenly realised how bijr 
 he was. All the Darcys were small men, neat, precise^ 
 Now, it was down upon her that he looked, on the widow's 
 cap surmounting the red bronze tendrils of her haif, 
 on the hands he had released, which lay so white and 
 small on her black dress. 
 
 " Do you know that story by Oscar Wilde, where 
 the hero goes to a thought-reader, who tells him 
 that one day he will commit a crime ? Do you re- 
 member how he becoines sp fearful of the future she 
 painted that, in sheer self-defence, and to protect himself 
 from a worse sin, since sin he must, he kills a useless 
 old man, throws him over a bridge, and only then is 
 able to resume his normal life ? " 
 
20 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 She shook her head, she had no remembrance of 
 the story. 
 
 Suddenly he flung himself down again beside her, 
 rather closer this time. She hardly knew how to defend 
 herself against him. 
 
 " Do you know I have just read the same story, but 
 with a difierence ? That httle pink palm of yours will 
 be stained %vith a love crime. Give it me again — " 
 but she kept both her hands clasped together — " No ! 
 why not ? Don't you hke me ? " 
 " Not— not quite." 
 
 " No wonder you blush ! Look at me now ; don't 
 you like me?" 
 
 He was very good-looking ; she could not help 
 that hurried glance. His manner and eyes smiled at 
 her, and the smile she caught in his eyes quivered round 
 her own hps ; these grew more soft, more alluring — 
 and Welch-Kennard had never denied himself anything. 
 " Sweet httle woman ! " His movement was unexpected; 
 before she had time to reahse that his face was so near to 
 hers, his arms were around her, and his Hps had sought 
 hers, he was kissing her as she had never before been 
 kissed. 
 
 A moment, a moment she yielded to him, in surprise, 
 ignorance, terror. 
 
 Then she was pushing him from her with both hands, 
 she had struggled away from him, she was crying. 
 In her flushed cheeks, and sobbing breath, and filled 
 eyes, and evident repulsion, he saw, without room for 
 doubt, that, although she was Sybil Heseltine's protegie, 
 it was a girl, and not a woman, he had held that moment 
 in his arms, whom he had kissed with such insistence. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER i , 21 
 
 And he was half sorry he had blundered, and ashamed. 
 But, nevertheless, he was strangely, irrationally glad. 
 
 " I am so sorry, how could I know ? I am so sorry, 
 I couldn't help it. How was I to know ? " 
 
 The words that rose to his Ups were the words he 
 spoke. But, when she covered her face with her hands, 
 when he saw she was actually crying, and frightened, 
 he was suddenly moved to exquisite gentleness and 
 remorse. He knelt down in front of her. 
 
 " Child," he said, " dear one, child, don't cry, I can't 
 bear it. I haven't hurt you, have I, so much as that ? 
 Can't you forget it, can't you forgive me ? Is a kiss so 
 bad, so wrong ? " 
 
 But not even her husband had ever kissed her so ! 
 She was ashamed, ashamed. She did not hate him ; 
 she knew that. She was shocked and excited, and 
 frightened, but she did not hate him. Her heart was 
 beating hke an electric engine, she could not answer him 
 for its throbs. 
 
 And, as for him, kneehng there, he was almost as much 
 moved as she. Some tenderness, some strangeness of 
 remorse he was unused to feel, was like a pain in his 
 heart. 
 
 " Are you too angry with me to speak ? Don't 
 make me hate myself ! " ■ 1 
 
 Presently she took her hands from before her eyes ; 
 they were wet, and her hands and she were trembhng. 
 But she tried to be a woman, and dignified, tried that 
 her voice should not shake. 
 
 " I'm not angry — ^with you." Her painful blushes 
 burnt her, and she did not look at him, although she 
 felt his presence so acutely. "It is with me . . . with 
 
22 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 myself. I ougHt to have known, not to have sent for 
 you, after that evening." 
 
 " No, no, no, a thousand times no. It was nothing 
 you did, or said ; it is in me, always to behave badly, 
 to let myself go. And you looked so sweet " 
 
 The hps he had kissed to that angry scarlet touched 
 him by something pathetic in their tremulousness ; he 
 was altogether fascinated and moved, because she was 
 so unhke what he had expected. He had found 
 so many women light, he had forgotten there were 
 others. How came it that he found this indefinable 
 quahty in a woman he had met under the wgis of the 
 Sphinx ? Why had Sybil written that they were made 
 for each other, he, and this — child ? 
 
 " I want to begin all over again. I have made a 
 mistake ; is it unforgivable — dear ? " 
 
 His voice was low with tenderness, sweet with tender- 
 riess ; and she had no experience to guide her. 
 
 " Don't send me away from you. Give me another 
 chance. Dear " — for still he was not quite sure — 
 " look at me, listen to me. I'm so distressed, unhappy. 
 Forgive me." 
 
 She had buried her face away from him. Wave after 
 wave of feehng went through her. All the experience 
 was on his side, all the depth on hers. He tried to take 
 her hands, gently, from before her face. 
 
 " Can't you find it in your heart to forgive me ? Speak 
 to me, dear, speak to me." 
 
 " Oh ! I can't, I can't. Did you think me — Oh ! 
 why did you think I was Uke that ? " 
 
 But the party at which he met her had been given by 
 the Sphinx ! 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 23 
 
 " Like what ? " he said, coolly. But he was not cool, 
 nor certain. " Like a woman, made for love ? Yes. 
 I thought you beautiful, irresistible, sweet. Does that 
 make you angry ? " 
 
 " But you made me feel — you don't know what you 
 made me feel — ashamed^ 
 
 He could hardly get at her words, through her low 
 sobs ; though he bent over her, trying, though now he 
 knelt again beside her, trying. 
 
 " I thought nothing, meant nothing, that you would 
 not have me think or know. Don't cry, for God's sake, 
 don't cry. We are going to be friends, you and I. You 
 want a friend, that is it, isn't it ? a friend, and not a 
 lover." 
 
 Now she raised her head, eagerly ; the eyes and cheeks 
 were wet, and she was flushed, tremulous, adorable. 
 
 " Oh ! I do, I do." 
 
 " Me ? " 
 
 " I "—her head dropped—" I don't know." 
 
 " But / know. It is me you want. You knew it that 
 first evening." 
 
 " I never told Norman. He would not have been 
 angry, he would have let me talk to him about you ; 
 he was like that. You know he was years older than 
 me, and an invahd always — but he was good to me, so 
 good to me that — that I'm ashamed." Her voice sank, 
 and there was a sob in it, her head drooped. 
 
 " You have nothing of which to be ashamed," he 
 interpolated, quickly. He hated having made a mis- 
 take. "I am ... a httle. But the worst of it is, 
 that I want to do the same thing over again ! Don't, 
 don't reproach me ! " for she made a httle sound, 
 
24 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 a little shrinking movement. " I won't come near you, 
 I won't touch you." He was silent a moment, 
 then the notes in his voice were deep when he added, 
 slowly, almost below his breath. " But we must be 
 friends, you and I, just you and I." 
 
 As a wooer of women, Welch-Kennard had been 
 accounted great, but this was altogether a new terri- 
 tory for him. A couple of hours ago he would have 
 said the whole adventure was out of his line. He had 
 no use for more women in his life. And innocence, 
 inexperience, or, perhaps, as he would have put it then, 
 amateurishness, were all quaUties of which he had the 
 greatest dread, distaste. He had no illusion about him- 
 self ! 
 
 Three months ago the Sphinx had given a supper- 
 party at the Carlton, and there he had met a pretty 
 woman. He had seen her home after supper. It 
 had not entered his head then, although it did now, 
 that she had not imderstood one- half of what he had 
 said to her. A sleepy butlei, a uniformed hospital nurse 
 hovering somewhere in the background, her own simple 
 " good-night," had ended the adventure before it had 
 begun. He had almost forgotten the incident until 
 Sybil's note reminded him of it. Certainly, there had 
 been something rare in the quaUty of her looks, and 
 she had seemed strange among the company that night ; 
 but he had forgotten her. Now he set himself to under- 
 stand. She had touched some unknown, long unused 
 cord in him. Her distress, and painful flush, and the 
 tears he had made her shed, had moved him strangely 
 He would not leave her until he had reassxired her, 
 until she knew she might be at ease with him. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAAVYER j 25 
 
 Presently they began to talk. Berenice Darcy's 
 liistory was very simple. Her father had been a clerk for 
 over twenty years in the house of Darcy Bros. He had 
 married young, and quite suitably, his wife had borne him 
 a son, had died, and been decorously mourned. But his 
 son was twelve, and himself over forty, when the romance 
 of his hfe flashed upon him suddenly from the grey 
 London pavement. The romance of a clerk in the office 
 of Messrs. Darcy Bros, had its necessary hmits. Old 
 Annesley married Berenice's mother. But the respecta- 
 bility depressed her vitality ; she died when her daughter 
 was still a baby, not before she had succeeded in giving 
 her young step-son a new view of hfe. It was a view 
 that banished him from his father's house. 
 
 Berenice told Errington, as they talked together, that 
 her step-brother hved in Galatz, in Roumania ; she had 
 not seen him since she was a child. She told Errington, 
 too, of her childhood. She had been brought up by two 
 old aunts of her father, who kept a boarding-house in 
 a cathedral city. There she learnt ways and means, 
 and piety, combined, and so they cramped her childish 
 vision. She went back to her father when she was 
 sixteen, and studied shorthand and typewriting at the 
 MetropoHtan School. When she was competent for her 
 first place, it happened that the invahd head of the firm 
 wanted a secretary for his private philanthropies. The 
 rest was inevitable. 
 
 How good he had been to her ! She tried to tell 
 Kennard something of Norman Darcy's unselfishness, 
 consideration, generosity, to the poor girl he had married. 
 She could not have told him of Norman Darcy's love 
 for her, for she hardly reaUsed it, even now. She did 
 
26 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 not realise Norman Darcy's love for her until the years 
 had sped, and she had learned, in the bitter school of 
 experience, that the heart of love is sacrifice, that it 
 would give, and give always, asking nothing in return, 
 and that only this is love. 
 
 It was strange, though, what pleasure it gave her to 
 talk of the past, of herself, and of Norman Darcy, to 
 this new friend of hers. She felt that he was infinitely 
 sympathetic. He had pleaded for forgiveness for that 
 kiss he had stolen ! She could not speak her pardon, 
 what he had done was unpardonable ! But the barriers 
 were no longer strong and conventional between them, 
 and now speech, too, helped to flood them. They 
 floated towards intimacy, as the evening wore on. How 
 strange, how good it was, to hear his deep voice echoing 
 her thoughts, confirming her views, meeting her re- 
 miniscences. 
 
 To him there was less that was strange in that hour of 
 intimacy ; all that was strange was the httle that it 
 succeeded, the httle that it promised. 
 
 He wanted, all the time he wanted, to ask her, how 
 long she had known Sybil Heseltine, how well she knew 
 her ? That was whilst he was Hstening with half an ear 
 to confidences almost girhsh. It was not strange to 
 Errington Welch-Kennard to be Hstening to a woman's 
 confidences, but these confidences were strange ! 
 
 The narration of her simple, guarded life, her gratitude 
 to her late husband for having elevated her from amanu. 
 ensis to wife, the implication or suggestion that his con- 
 dition of health rendered the tie a purely nominal one, 
 her appeal, surely it was an appeal, to his chivalry in 
 his own treatment of her, touched him curiously. So 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 27 
 
 had her distress. So, and that was the devil of it, did 
 her beauty ! 
 
 But he was not going to entangle himself ; his hands 
 were full. He would help her through with her afiairs, 
 and then, well, then it would be time enough to con- 
 sider the situation. Clever as he was, and experienced, 
 there were some things he did not know, his own weak- 
 ness for instance, the hmitations of his self-control. 
 
 " Well ! now we have grown a Httle clearer with 
 each other, I think, I hope. Now we must really 
 tackle these papers in earnest, I am afraid." 
 
 He moved from his seat beside her on the sofa 
 abruptly ; she was really charming, and naive. He went 
 over to the table. 
 
 " Copy of marriage settlement, the will, the old 
 partnership deed." As he enumerated the documents, 
 he separated them, and placed them on one side ; but 
 his mind was not on the work. " Are there some india- 
 rubber bands in any of these drawers ? " 
 
 He had been so sympathetic, so apparently interested ; 
 he had drawn her out, and she had talked more about 
 herself than she had ever talked. Now nothing could be 
 more business-hke, more commonplace than his words, 
 and his manner. It was impossible to deny that she felt 
 a quick little chill of disappointment She had been so 
 happy, talking. Now she wondered if anything she had 
 told him about herself had repelled or estranged him ; 
 she wondered if he did not like her as much as he had 
 done at the beginning of the interview. She felt herself 
 blushing again ; but, at least, she could meet his change 
 of mood. 
 
 " I think there are some rubber bands in the left-hand 
 
28 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 comer drawer, the small one ; I used to use them for 
 my husband's letters. There are some large envelopes 
 just in front of you." 
 
 " Thanks. Oh, yes, here they are." 
 
 She knew now that she hked him, that she found him 
 intensely sympathetic, she had never hked any one so 
 well except Norman. And he had never been tired 
 of hstening to her. Every movement of her new lawyer 
 was hthe, attractive ; Norman had moved slowly, and 
 with difficulty. Welch-Kennard's good looks were just 
 those that specially appealed to her. He was so strong, 
 and virile, with something dominant about him, yet 
 tender. From lover to friend he had switched himself 
 suddenly, even as an electric hght is suddenly switched 
 off. She wondered if he would get as quickly from 
 friendship to indiSerence. Was he going to be her 
 legal adviser, only that, nothing more ? Whatever 
 he had decided on being, he would be ! She was 
 ashamed again that she was disappointed, and chilled. 
 She covered up her shame with quick talk about in- 
 vestments, transfers, a Uttle of the jargon she had 
 caught from Fred. Meanwhile, Kennard was gathering 
 together the papers, somewhat abstractedly, perhaps 
 he was hardly hstening. 
 
 It was not as yet within the limits of her knowledge 
 of men to reahse that he had got up only when he 
 could no longer sit quietly by her side, that he was 
 substituting his interest in the papers for the desire to 
 see her pallor change, to test once more what her scarce- 
 tasted hps might yield. 
 
 He knew it was time for him to go. He had no in- 
 tention of letting his impulse master him again. The 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 29 
 
 Bituation had to be thought out, if it would bear think- 
 ing of. He had to reaUse clearly what her attraction 
 was for him. Of course, when he was not handicapped 
 by associating her, mentally, with her hostess of the 
 Carlton supper-party, he recognised the difierence be- 
 tween a garden where all men might roam and one set 
 round with privet hedge. The scent of the flowers 
 came to him, garden lily, sweet briar and woodbine ; 
 it was years since such a perfume had blown about him. 
 Had it, indeed, ever come before ? Anyway, he must 
 go away, and think. 
 
 " By this time to-morrow I shall have mastered all the 
 details," he said. " I may have something to say to you 
 about them before I meet those men again, as soon as I 
 have rim through all these papers. Could I see you again 
 if necessary ? " 
 
 Anyway he would be her lawyer. He had got out of 
 the habit of doing this sort of work, but once he had 
 known his books quite well, and there was no difficulty 
 in getting them up again. Besides, there was sure to be 
 some one at the office who could put him right if he got 
 into difficulties. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I want to get it all finished, out of my 
 head. I he awake at night and wonder whether I have 
 signed anything I ought not to, or sworn to anything that 
 was not true. I dream of ' interest,' and fijid myself 
 counting again and again the difierence between ' money 
 on deposit ' and the debentures of Enghsh railways," she 
 said, laughing a little, nervous still, uncertain of herself 
 and him. 
 
 He laughed too, but his thoughts were abstracted. 
 Why on earth had she been allowed to sup with 
 
30 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Sybil that night ? Of what had her husband been 
 thinking ? 
 
 " You haven't got used to being a rich woman yet ? " 
 he said. 
 
 " No ; I don't suppose I ever shall ! " 
 
 She had risen to say " good-bye " to him. Her 
 slendemess was reaUy exquisite, and all her transient, 
 flushing colour rare and delicate. 
 
 " I'll tell you what I'll do," he said, impulsively. 
 " I'm dining alone. I'll run through these papers 
 whilst I'm at dinner, then I might come round, about 
 nine, and talk them over with you." 
 
 " It would be very good of you." 
 
 " Would it ? I don't know ! " 
 
 He took his leave hurriedly. As she gave him her 
 hand in farewell, he bent his Hps to it. His eyes said 
 something his words omitted, and set her heart beating 
 again. 
 
 She was surprised to find herself alone. But it would 
 be long before her sohtude was lonely. So much of him 
 remained with her ; so much for her to flush in encourag- 
 ing, to pale in repulsing, to dream over, and be restless 
 with. Her short married hfe had left her still a girl; 
 but the Sphinx's lawyer had shown her, as in a flash, 
 the paths that women trod. And all her calm was 
 gone. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 " Dear Child, — 
 
 " Maldichos sean todos papeles. These documents 
 are not as simple as they looked ; and, alas ! I find I 
 must spend the evening with them, and not with you. 
 May I come, instead, to-morrow at twelve ? 
 
 " Send me a Kttle Une to say I am quite forgiven- 
 Chi ama, qual chi muore, Non ha da gire alciel dal mondo 
 aWale. Both of them rustled about your charming 
 head this afternoon, and I tried to bring my heaven down 
 to me, that was all. Dream of flowers to-night, of roses 
 and lilies. Leave all weightier matters to 
 
 " Your lawyer to command, 
 
 " E. W.-K." 
 
 His signature was a curious hieroglyphic, and he was 
 among the last of the survivors of the seaUng-wax habit; 
 a big black splash bore his crest. 
 
 The disingenuous letter was eminently characteristic. 
 After he had left Berenice, he had suddenly remem- 
 bered he had promised Sybil to report the result of his 
 visit to Prince's Gate. He never wiUingly broke an 
 appointment with the Sphinx. Therefore, he stopped at 
 a florist's and bought a large bunch of white hlac, and a 
 few exquisite malmaisons. Arrived at his chambers, he 
 dashed off his letter to his new cHent, attached to it the 
 
3:i THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 flowers, and sent these to Prince's Gate. Then he 
 dressed, and dined leisurely. But afterwards, it was to 
 Hans Crescent that he directed his hansom, instead of 
 to Prince's Gate. 
 
 Sybil Heseltine, whom her friends called " the Sphinx," 
 was a hedonist, with level brows and a dead- white skin, 
 who wore Egyptian designs on her Greek tea-gowns, 
 and talked of superabundant health and vigour, whilst 
 she lay perpetually on her sofa, propped up by silken 
 cushions, vital only in her wonderful eyes. 
 
 The supper at the Carlton after the premiire at His 
 Majesty's Theatre had been one of the rare occasions 
 on which she left the bibelots, and Italian book-bindings. 
 Eastern embroideries, gems and old ivories, that con- 
 stituted her legitimate atmosphere. In truth, she wa'i 
 an invahd, although any talk or thought of illness was 
 banished from her drawing-room. 
 
 Her days were numbered ; that was one of the secrets 
 she and Kennard held in common, and of which they 
 never spoke to each other. It was long since she had had 
 the prospect of average years. 
 
 There had been a time when romance had gathered 
 about her name, when books and poems had been 
 dedicated to her, songs sung in her honour. She had 
 played Beatrice to Algernon Heseltine's Dante, and 
 there had been no figure more prominent in the world 
 she frequented. In oil and in pastel, in water-colour, 
 and black and white, she had graced the walls of winter 
 and summer exhibitions, the pages of illustrated maga- 
 zines, the weekly editions of fashion papers. Now she 
 was forgotten. Between the time when she had been 
 celebrated in song and now, when she was forgotten. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 33 
 
 had. come that which made forgetfulness kind. But, 
 in the days of her triumph, no less than in the days when 
 the very name she bore stank in the nostrils of the world 
 when she was abhorred, execrated, stoned, for a fault 
 that was not hers, Errington Welch-Kennard had been 
 her friend, defender, apologist. He was yoimger than 
 she, in some ways, perhaps, weaker. And she had in- 
 fluenced him perpetually; she had always wielded a 
 peculiar influence. 
 
 To-night she greeted him with eager curiosity. She 
 questioned and cross-questioned him with the searching, 
 impatient, inconsequent curiosity of a child. 
 
 "jWell ! did you see her ? What did she say ? How 
 did she look 1 Did you fall in love with her 1 Is she 
 fretting after her husband ? Tell me all, everything. 
 I've been coimting the hoiirs until you came." 
 
 " I hope you do that always," he said hghtly. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! of course," she answered, impatiently. 
 " But now I want to hear about you and Berenice. 
 Did you see her alone ? " 
 
 There was no fault to be found with Sybil's back- 
 ground, the cushion was of the softest yellow silk, 
 and it aureoled the uimatural pallor of her face. Because 
 he had not yet been able to dismiss from his mind 
 Berenice's crude background, nor her beauty against it, 
 he fell back into the hght and intimate banter that was 
 the habitual currency between himself and his old friend. 
 
 " No, no ! you have no rival, I am still your be- 
 seeching, hopeless lover. I am still at your feet, Sphinx 
 Are you still cruel ? " 
 
 He dropped easily into the low chair by her side ; 
 he took her hand and held it against his cheek. 
 
 C 
 
34 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 /' Why do you talk to me about other women 1 Why 
 have you never loved me yourself ? I have never been 
 able to understand that. Explain yourself, Sphinx." 
 
 Errington Welch-Kennard occupied a special position 
 in this strange manage. He helped to make its atmo- 
 sphere, and keep it intact. Perhaps he knew better than 
 any other man what had reduced the woman's originally 
 splendid vitaKty to its present low level. Whatever he 
 knew he ignored. 
 
 That was what made the secure foundation of their 
 friendship, and the intimacy that was built upon it. He 
 knew everything, and had helped when help was terribly 
 needed. He had had no gift from her in exchange ; 
 if her hps were soiled, it was not from his kisses. Only 
 of late, since love had gone out of her life, perforce, 
 had he revived its language, to give her pleasure. 
 Whatever he was, or might be, to other women, to this 
 one he was only infinitely pitiful. To him, who knew 
 everything, it seemed imperative that, in her f aihng days, 
 she should live as she wished, speak as she hst, be some- 
 what cherished. And what she cared for most was 
 listening to the echoes of bygone days. 
 
 She hked her drawing-room to be a Palace of Truth ; 
 all the men, and the few women, who came there she en- 
 couraged to talk of themselves, of each other, with an 
 undraped, indecorous candour. Kennard fell easily and 
 always into her mood, and, as love was so often the theme 
 of conversation, and he was so often there, the fiction had 
 been banteringly started, and was kept up, even when 
 they were alone, that he was her always rejected, always 
 aspiring, lover. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 35 
 
 There was a mysterious "Hyperion," however, who 
 was supposed to stand ever between him and his de- 
 sires. That " Apollo," or " Hyperion," was the name 
 she gave to a syringe with a little sharp needle attach- 
 ment, another secret which only those two knew, 
 and of which neither of them ever betrayed their know- 
 ledge to each other. 
 
 " Why are you always talking to me about other 
 women, Sphinx ? It is unkind of you, unfair." 
 
 " I like to collect, not to be collected ! You make a 
 cult of infideUty, and it amuses me better to be spectator 
 than to take a hand in the game. Then, I couldn't com- 
 pete with Lady Helbert. How many letters a day did 
 she write you, Brigham, at six-and-eight a letter ? Let 
 me see, when you persuaded her to return to the bed- 
 side of her dying husband — it was his third attack 
 of D.T., wasn't it, dear? — Elsa Beethoven began to 
 weep out the distresses of her neglected soul on your 
 broad shoulders. I don't weep, and I haven't a soul, I 
 couldn't enter the hsts with Elsa Beethoven. Now there 
 is ' Norma ' " 
 
 " A client, Sphinx, a chent." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! of couise, I forget. They are all chents. 
 You keep an electric brougham for her, don't you ? so 
 that she can come and discuss "Lord Manningtree's de- 
 linquencies with you at all hours. And you paid Cartier's 
 bill for that diamond necklace out of your costs. You 
 see, I know everything. I suppose one day I shall come 
 to you about Apollo. Either I shall elope with him, or 
 he will desert me, he has a curious temper. Would 
 an action lie against Apollo, Solon ? " 
 
 " I am not sure, I must look up my law. You and 
 
36 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 your friends appear determined to keep my nose to the 
 grindstone." 
 
 " Berenice ! Tell me about Berenice. How did you 
 get on ? " 
 
 " Berenice was charming, but immature, not what 
 you represented her, Sphinx. Tell me how she became 
 a friend of yours, and why. I cannot see the point of 
 attachment." 
 
 " Can't you ? " Her manner was full of mystery ; 
 then she laughed lightly. " No ! I suppose that may 
 puzzle you. Perhaps she is not quite so innocent as 
 she seems ; how does that view please you ? " 
 
 " Not at all," he said, coolly. 
 
 " Then you really do " 
 
 " I really do want to know when and where you met 
 her, and why she comes here. For whose benefit 
 was she at your supper-party ? It was not for mine, 
 you remember ; you resented that I drove home with 
 her ! " 
 
 " Therefore you told me the next day that you did not 
 admire her ! " 
 
 "Of course ! Isn't that the way to play the game ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! you were quite wrong, you ought to have 
 been candid with me ; candour is one of the privileges 
 of your position." 
 
 " Did I admire her ? " 
 
 " You fell headlong in love with her. I was sure of it 
 at the time." 
 
 " But I disguised it, surely, I disguised it 1 ' 
 
 " Not from me, I knew it at once." 
 
 " But, since then 1 " 
 
 " There was Norma 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 37 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " 
 
 " And you forgot Berenice." 
 
 " True ! But you have forced her on my memory. 
 You sent me to her to-day. Now I want details. How 
 did you come across her ? How long have you known 
 her 1 And why " 
 
 " Well, i suppose one must tell one's lawyer every- 
 thing, particularly if one hasn't got a clergyman, a 
 doctor, or a bosom friend, in whom to confide falsely. 
 And I don't keep a diary ! You know Harold Scott- 
 Brooking ? " 
 
 " No. 117 in your collection ? Otherwise entitled 
 ' Kensington de Town Hall ' ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " 
 
 " The man who strides this narrow world like a 
 Colossus, one foot in Bayswater and the other in 
 Bohemia ? " 
 
 " Quite right, his hfe is running past him, between 
 his legs. He cannot stop it, he is too busy balancing 
 himself and his bank book. He is quite rich, and 
 rather swift." 
 
 " But what, in the name of the New Oxford Diction- 
 ary, don't you think that is a highly original swear? 
 has he got to do with Mrs. Norman Darcy ? " 
 
 " He had written an operetta, and was prospecting the 
 hemisphere for a hbrettist. He met Berenice Darcy 
 at a book tea, or a progressive dinner, or a tennis ball, 
 something suburban, I forget exactly what. It seems 
 they played a ridiculous game, during which she wrote 
 two wonderful hnes of verse ; one of them was some- 
 body else's, that is the essence of the game, but he did 
 not find it out until afterwards. Anyway he pursued 
 
38 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 her home, was introduced to a paralysed husband, who 
 was overjoyed at the prospect of safe Uterary pursuits 
 for his rehct. He was dying then. But dying is a long 
 job, Errington." She halted a moment, but recovered 
 herself, and went on Kghtly : "In three or four visits, 
 always chaperoned by the paralysed husband, a lyric 
 was produced. Of course, Brooking wrote it himself, 
 although he swore to me that she had done it. I ad- 
 mired the lyric, I wrote to her about the operetta." 
 Her voice changed again, grew hard. " My name and 
 reputation did not seem to have penetrated to Prince's 
 Gate. She rushed to call upon me, she found me 
 unusual, fascinating. I gather I am unhke the Darcy 
 women ! Brooking met her here, went on seeing her, 
 he vowed she had lyrical genius, and that her hair 
 inspired him. She was exquisitely ignorant, completely 
 uncultured. I asked her of Browning, and she responded 
 with Pitman. Who was Pitman, Errington, and why 
 did he write shorthand ? I thought she would make a 
 fensation if I took her with a select party to the Carl- 
 ton. . . ." 
 
 " If you had been a man I should have said, ' What a 
 blackguard thing to do.' " 
 
 " I know. But Brooking is such a dear." 
 " But surely, my memory does not play me false, 
 surely, he was not there at all ! " 
 
 There was a gleam of mahcious laughter and remem- 
 brance in her brilliant eyes, they were eyes full of 
 colour, set hke jewels in her head. 
 
 " No ! after all, he was not there. His aunt or his 
 mother, or some incongruous relation, died, and he could 
 not, or would not, sup in pubhc the same night ! You 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 39 
 
 filled his chair, you remember you were asked at the 
 last moment, and I did not explain. Since that evening 
 Berenice has written nothing of the opera, and dechned 
 to talk about the gifted operettist. She has, on the other 
 hand, displayed much interest in your career, with which 
 I, so to speak, spoon-fed her, after I had peptonised 
 it." 
 
 He got up, and walked away from the sofa. Lean- 
 ing against the mantelpiece, he remained silent a few 
 moments. He was feehng acutely irritated, but he 
 knew that it was irrational. 
 
 " What did you tell her ? " he asked, " what form 
 did the pepsine take ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I made you quite easy to digest. Surely, you 
 reaUsed that to-day ? " 
 
 " No ! no ! I cannot quite say that I did." 
 His words were mere emanations from his silence, 
 representing the surface only, nothing of his inner 
 thoughts. She watched him from her sofa-grave. How 
 far had it gone ? she wondered. Presently her laugh 
 broke the silence. 
 
 " So you found her difficult ? " she jeered. 
 " So I found her — ^impossible," he retorted. 
 " A Welch-Kennard bested by a Berenice Darcy ! 
 Wonderful ! " 
 
 He was still speaking from his surfaces, not his 
 depths. 
 
 " Oh ! I'm no longer the man for a siege. If the 
 defences are not down, and the entrance easy, I ride 
 away again. I suppose it is vanity, or indifierence ! " 
 he said, hghtly, recovering or endeavouring to recover 
 his equanimity. 
 
40 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 "Or the approach of your fortieth year," she sug- 
 gested, amiably. 
 
 " That's imMnd, Sphinx. But tell me — why did you 
 write me thatj letter, why did you send me to her, 
 and order me to do my best for her ? I know you 
 revel in your inconsistencies, but I want to reconcile 
 them." 
 
 Anyone who knew Sybil Heseltine at all of late years 
 would have been surprised at the sudden softness in her 
 face, softness being the one quahty of which her best 
 friends might have thought her incapable. She, too, 
 grew introspective. 
 
 " Ah ! why, indeed ? " was all she said. After a 
 pause, she added, meditatively : 
 
 " She has about eight thousand a year." 
 
 He frowned that away. 
 
 " And it is really time you married." Kennard knew 
 that there was no use endeavouring to force the issue> 
 if she had not decided to explain herseK. 
 
 " Don't you think that is rather a strong course ? " 
 he queried hghtly. 
 
 " Um — perhaps. But you would wear the yoke 
 easily." 
 
 " Seriously, now, Sybil ? " 
 
 " Seriously, Berenice is an embryo, with infinite 
 possibihties. When she was at the supper she was a 
 married woman, new, attractive, exactly to your taste. 
 You have not been a co-respondent for two years — 
 eighteen months, isn't it ? I did not want you to be so 
 soon again the hero of a new scandal, so I let you forget 
 her, I made you forget her, whilst keeping your memory 
 alive with her. But, when her letter came " 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 41 
 
 He had to read between the lines of her explanation, 
 and, of course, it softened him. He was weak where 
 women were concerned. 
 
 " Now things are diSerent, she is free, you can woo 
 her, wed her, settle down, be happy. Will you be 
 happy ? I wonder ! It all came to my mind when I got 
 her note. Almost before, I think, when I first heard that 
 Norman Darcy was dead. Why are you looking at me 
 like that ? What will you buy me for a wedding present 1 
 You will have to give me a wedding present when you 
 marry, won't you ? I have almost set my heart on the 
 MS. of ' Paradise Lost.' It would be so appropriate ! 
 And five thousand poimds will be nothing to you if you 
 marry Berenice Darcy." 
 
 He wanted to thank her for thinking of his interests, 
 he wanted to tell her how absurd, how impossible was 
 her scheme ; but his words and thoughts kept no pace 
 together. 
 
 " You grow quite epic ! " was all his answer. 
 
 " I want to urge you forward. Marry her quickly. 
 Eight thousand a year is tempting, with a skin like that 
 thrown in ! " 
 
 " Her husband has been dead about six weeks ! " 
 
 " You have a Shakespearean precedent." 
 
 " Was ever woman in such humour wooed ? " 
 
 " Precisely." 
 
 " But that affair wasn't a conspicuous success." 
 
 " I beheve you are in love with her." 
 
 " I am in love with love." 
 
 " Still ? " 
 
 " Always." 
 
 That this phosphorescent tragic reHc of what had once 
 
42 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 been a gifted woman meant well by him, Errington 
 Welcb-Kennard knew. 
 
 It was not strange that it should be so. He had 
 been a boy when Algernon had first brought him to the 
 house, and, when he reahsed into what he had come, he 
 stayed away. But, unhke the others, he had returned 
 when danger threatened. He was a man then, and 
 beyond certain calumnies ; he had stayed beside the 
 Heseltines when he stayed alone. 
 
 He had returned too late to save her, or any of them, 
 from wreck, only in time to engulf, or nearly engulf, 
 himself in the mud and refuse that whirled about them. 
 The orgies of that devastated Gomorrah he had never 
 shared. He had felt himself strong enough, then, in 
 the pride of his intellect, and appreciation of greater 
 intellect, to stand forth before the world as the cham- 
 pion of Algernon Heseltine. When he realised all the 
 cause for which he was giving battle, and shuddered 
 at it, he remained, nevertheless, by the side of Alger- 
 non's wife, for he realised, at the same time, that she 
 was standing alone to bear a burden that could fit no 
 woman's shoulders. 
 
 And, practically, by her side he had stood ever since, 
 not counting the cost to himself. 
 
 The cost had been greater than he knew, but not 
 greater than she knew. She was going to pay it back to 
 him, with Berenice Darcy, she was going to die out of 
 debt. 
 
 Errington Welch-Kennard had distinguished himself 
 at the university. After his first in classics, the law 
 tripos was child's play to him. Too much money, too 
 excellent a physique, had made havoc of his first year 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 43 
 
 in London. It was in the interval between the time he 
 had been taken to Algernon Heseltine's house, and had 
 fled from it, and the time when he had returned out of a 
 false sense of honour, that he made his first mistake. 
 
 He had just passed his law examinations, and was 
 about to enter his father's office, when he made the 
 acquaintance of a pubhc singer and left England with 
 her touring company, rather than be separated from her. 
 The story of his fife in America, in the train of the opera 
 company of which she was the star, reached England 
 in distorted fragments. He returned to find his place 
 in the office, in his father's house, still open to him ; 
 but the family, the friends, cool. Their coolness became 
 Arctic when he openly declared himself the champion 
 of Algernon Heseltine, speaking of the man's intellect, 
 when they spoke of his evil reputation, vehemently assert- 
 ing his place in hterature, whilst they could not see beyond 
 the fumes of the scandal which had obscured his growing 
 fame. 
 
 Half in defiance, half in pride, Errington went beyond 
 his own convictions, stretching his intellectuahty to cover 
 aU that revolted him. The revolt spread, he became 
 appalled and sickened by what he saw. It was before 
 the scandal about Algernon Heseltine had evoked its 
 legal consequences. The brilhant, bestial set about 
 him grew ever more daring and triumphant in their 
 vices. Errington's unstrung nerves, and loosened 
 moral fibre, foimd the refuge in the society of women 
 that other youngsters, equally shaken, found in drink^ 
 in gambhng, in opium. Sybil, grateful to him for stay- 
 ing beside them, grateful to him for friendship, gener- 
 osity, loyalty, encouraged him always to the wrong 
 
44 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 course. She meant no harm to him ; yet it was to 
 her and hers it was primarily due that his life had been 
 wasted in pursuit, intrigue and evasion. 
 
 It was Sybil Heseltine and her fate that had kept him 
 always in revolt, the Heseltine influence that had driven 
 his hfe from its true course. 
 
 But to-night his pity for Algernon Heseltine's 
 widow was tinged with something of repulsion. He 
 wished, he knew it was unreasonable, but he wished 
 the Sphinx had left Berenice Darcy to nurse her invalid 
 husband, to spend her sweet, imtainted days without a 
 glimpse into this lurid world where she herself was 
 blazing out her end. The Sphinx had been a creature 
 of circumstance, of abominable circumstance, but to- 
 night, not for the first time, he felt what a poor, what a 
 desperate retort she had made, and was making. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 That was what he thought when he left her that night. 
 It was late before he came away, but the room was 
 already full of men. The pubhc had forgotten Sybil 
 Heseltine, and society had forgotten her, nevertheless 
 she did not Hve alone. 
 
 Algernon had many disciples. As soon as it was safe, 
 and she obscure, they ralhed round his wife, who seemed 
 all of him that was left for them. Here were the 
 friends of his briUiant boyhood, wrecks and derehcts, 
 bitter, and tired, and old, failures one and all. There 
 were here, too, men from the universities, exotic, 
 intellectual, perverse, and a sprinkhng of boys 
 from Woolwich and Sandhurst, vicious and pallid and 
 eager. A scheme was on foot for bringing back to his 
 native land the ashes of the great one, the Master. 
 His death had canonised him ; already a cult for him 
 was aflame in France and in Germany, and other intellec- 
 tual centres. Why should England lag behind ? She had 
 murdered his body, would she throttle his fame ? 
 So they talked, hotly ; some with sincerity, conviction, 
 some because the Sphinx willed it. On the duU horizon 
 of their normal Mves the Sphinx and her drawing-room 
 were the golden haze. They were decadents and weak- 
 lings, essential ineffectives, but even such as these can 
 dream ! 
 
46 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Errington was used to her environment, to the tone of 
 her house; but it jarred upon him to-night. He 
 found the loose and briUiant talk, the note of supreme 
 intimacy, the indecorous personal candour, the classic 
 gossip and allusion, ugly and distasteful. The talk 
 irked him, he was sickened with the cult to-night, as 
 once in youth. 
 
 Sybil, joining in the talk, leading it, yet watched him 
 with that strange softness. When, from among these 
 disciples of hers, a new prophet should arise, preaching 
 tumult and disorder, the cult of pure intellect, and the 
 forcible uprooting of the cramping hedges that divided 
 the world into territorial morahties, that prophet would 
 not be Errington Welch-Kennard. Well, she would 
 help him on his own way. 
 
 She called him over to her, put out her hand, and 
 bade him " Good-night." 
 
 " Go away, you are out of sympathy with us. Your 
 attitude of disapproval is too tedious." Then, in a lower 
 voice, she added : " Dear Errington, go home. You 
 are dreaming of Berenice, I can see it. But don't look 
 so distressed about it ; your talents he in other directions 
 than ours. You will be very happy, and you have 
 nothing with which to reproach yourself ; it is not your 
 fault that you are incapable of the higher philosophy." 
 
 He wondered, when he got into the air, into the clean, 
 night air that was such a contrast to the atmosphere 
 of the drawing-room he had left, whether that was indeed 
 true. As far as the Sphinx was concerned, at least, had he 
 nothing with which to reproach himself ? 
 
 He had never tried to make her change her views, he 
 had only upheld her, sympathised with her, stood by 
 
THE srMlJNA-a IjAwiER 47 
 
 her. She had had to bear unbearable things. Now 
 let her lull herself to sleep with morphia or with argu- 
 ment, she had paid all her penalties in advance. That 
 was what he had said, and thought, and he had made 
 no effort toward her uplifting. 
 
 She had had a splendid vision, a phantasmagoria of 
 indefinable brilliancy. The man who had shown it to 
 her had shown himself to her last of aU, with his genius 
 all defiled and befouled, and himself degraded almost 
 out of semblance to humanity. But the genius had 
 been there. Passionately she had clung to that, and 
 preached it ; otherwise all day and all night she would 
 have gazed into hell. 
 
 Errington, during his walk from Hans Crescent to 
 Park Street, forgot, as always, his reptilsion in pity, and 
 gradually his mind resumed its former tone. 
 
 The suggestion she had made to him, she had made, 
 Sphinx as she was, because she cared enough for him to 
 wish him happy. 
 
 It was absurd, of course — such a suggestion as his 
 marriage. His father and his partner had urged it on 
 him often. For if, as it seemed, he could not five with- 
 out feminine companionship, why not let the knowledge 
 lead him to its legitimate conclusion ? they had argued. 
 But he had never known a woman he wished to marry. 
 Notwithstanding his hfe, his erratic adventures, he was 
 genuinely sensitive, and intolerant, a neurotic, who could 
 suffer from untoward yawn or sneeze, become nauseated 
 by a perfume or facial trick, grow sleepless, without 
 appetite, ill, when he had to hsten to, and answer, babble, 
 play the lover at other times than he wished, endure 
 " scenes," when his solitude was invaded and his 
 
48 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 freedom cramped. It was ten years since he liad tried 
 such an experiment, but then he had sufiered too much 
 not to remember. 
 
 All this Sybil knew as well as he ; but he was older 
 now, perhaps more tolerant. And, financially at least, 
 he was as near the end of his tether as she of her days. 
 He had seen enough already of Berenice Darcy's aflairs 
 to reahse that her fortune was large, solid, and com- 
 pletely at her disposal. 
 
 He paced his room restlessly, when he reached 
 home that night, remembering. But it was not of 
 Berenice's fortvme he was thinking when, at length, he 
 got to his bed. He forgot Berenice's fortune, and the 
 Sphinx's advice, in the long hours that followed. 
 
 What haunted him that night, in his short snatches of 
 excited sleep, were the hair's red-brown, and the eyes' 
 brown depths, of his new client, her mobile smiles, with 
 tears so near them, the scarlet softness of those imkissed 
 corners of her reluctant mouth, her slenderness, the 
 unawakened sensuousness that hid itself in her shyness 
 with him. Not since he had been a boy had he passed 
 such a night. 
 
 He was in two minds about going to her at all the 
 next day, notwithstanding his letter and his promise. 
 His restless night annoyed him when he reviewed it in 
 the clear hght of day. To let this shp of a girl get into 
 his blood, inflame and haunt him, seemed the merest 
 f oUy. He was not the man for matrimony ; the Sphinx's 
 suggestion was absurd. And anything short of mar- 
 riage did not bear thinking of, it was not in the range 
 of practical poHtics. He was not a seducer, and this 
 would be a seduction. All the many women he had 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 49 
 
 known had been women of the world, ripe or over-ripe, 
 and ready for him or another ; but Berenice was difierent. 
 
 He went down to his office the next morning, with 
 three-fourths of his mind made up to turning her affairs 
 over to his partners. He did not know that that 
 very morning Berenice was walking about her over- 
 furnished drawing-room, with its burden of ormolu 
 and upholstery, counting the hours until he came. For, 
 her night, too, had been disturbed. 
 
 He would go to Japan. It was three years since he 
 had tried the anodyne of the tea-houses, and he had not 
 extracted all they could yield him. There were several 
 matters bothering him that would probably right them- 
 selves if he got away. He was up to his neck in debts 
 and difficulties ; things of this kind have a way of accumu- 
 lating about a man who hves casually, keeps no accounts, 
 and has the baihSs in before he remembers there is a 
 writ against him ! His last adventure had been a very 
 expensive one, a question of Russian sables and a bill 
 for jewellery. There were compUcations threatening 
 there, also. Altogether, it would be well for him to 
 absent himself from London. 
 
 Messrs. Kennard and Carker were a very old-estab- 
 lished firm, of which his father had been the founder and 
 head. His partners, although they quite reahsed his 
 possibiHties, recognised that they could not rely upon 
 him for regular work. They would be glad to have the 
 Darcy business, it ought to prove lucrative, and it was 
 not the first good business their erratic partner had 
 brought them. He was too proud, too vain a man, to 
 have remained a partner in the firm, shirking his share 
 of the work, if he had not known that he was of value to 
 
 D 
 
50 THE SPHINX'S LAWYEE 
 
 them, notwithstanding. That the Darcy estate was a 
 good one to get into the office, was the fact upon which he 
 concentrated his mind on his way down to Southampton 
 Street. 
 
 But, when he looked into the papers, they proved more 
 compUcated, and more interesting, than he had supposed. 
 There really was a nice point in the interpretation of the 
 partnership deed ; and, in a business making between 
 twenty and thirty thousand pounds a year, it was 
 important to find out exactly to what share the widow 
 of its founder was entitled. He spoke of the matter 
 to Edward Carker, who had chancery law at his finger- 
 tips, and he, also, recognised, at once, how important it 
 was to secure their chent's interest, and also how difficult 
 it might prove to do so. 
 
 There seemed something unchivalrous, something 
 rather mean, in leaving her in the lurch ; and, with all 
 his faults, Errington was not a coward. He might secure 
 her an extra thousand or so a year. Edward Carker, of 
 course, could do as much as he. But would he ? 
 That was the question. Theirs was really a very large 
 concern, and it was more than probable the matter 
 would be turned over to a clerk. 
 
 A day or so of sophistical irresolution culminated, 
 of course, in finding him again in Prince's Gate. She 
 awaited him in her black dress and absurd cap ; but 
 she looked hke a girl notwithstanding, and an exception- 
 ally pretty one ! The drawing-room set his teeth on 
 edge no less than the library had done. It was furnished 
 in the most elaborate mid- Victorian manner, the ormolu 
 was overpowering, the rich red damask sofas and curtains 
 accentuated it ; he was stuimed by its sheer atrocity. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 51 
 
 She had thought about nothing but him since 
 yesterday. He could not but note how her colour rose, 
 how nervous was her greeting. He promised himself that 
 if at first he had behaved badly, misread, wronged her, 
 to-day he would make amends. But the drawing-room 
 solaced his conscience. 
 
 " It was very kind of you to send me those flowers," 
 she began. She had the gift of handling blooms, and it 
 pleased him, as he emerged gradually from the shock 
 of the ormolu, to see, on a small table, by her chair, 
 the vases that held his Uhes, taU and separate, his roses, 
 with their drooped heads and leafage. 
 
 " I want to be kind to you, if you will let me." Then 
 he added qmckly, " I am going to get you at least 
 another thousand a year from the business. Am I to 
 give you details, or only results ? " 
 
 " Oh ! results, please. Perhaps, if you are not busy, 
 . . ." (hesitating), " you see lam not quite sure what one 
 may ask of one's solicitor." She was charmingly shy 
 and blushed easily. He looked at her with an expression 
 that hardly wanted words to make it clear to her 
 that he admired her. 
 
 " You may ask your friend anything, there is nothing 
 he would not do for you." He was surprised at his own 
 warmth. " What is it you want to ask me ? " 
 
 " I am having so many letters from people whom 
 Norman helped. I want to do everything the same as 
 he did. You know he was on the committee of so many 
 charities, and, privately, too, he was always giving. 
 Fred said I ought not to undertake anjrthing definitely, 
 I ought not to make any promises, until I saw how things 
 ^vould arrange themselves. But it is difScult to put off 
 
52 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 people who are poor, who are anxious to know if they can 
 still depend upon the incomes they have had. May I 
 trouble you with aU this ? " 
 
 How difierently would most of the women he knew 
 be taking a sudden accession of wealth ! They would 
 be thinking of dress and jewellery, Monte Carlo and 
 millinery. He was touched by her desire to walk in her 
 husband's footsteps ; but, perhaps, it was because her 
 brown eyes were looking at him so softly. 
 
 " I have been making a list, this morning, of charities 
 he supported. But it is not only these, I should Uke to 
 do something personally, in honour of him, as it were, to 
 keep his memory alive ; I don't think there were many 
 men as good as Norman." 
 
 She was three or four-and-twenty, and would have an 
 income of about ten thousand a year. What possibihties 
 there were in her hfe ! Errington was a Httle chilled 
 that Norman Darcy should have so much of her thoughts, 
 a great deal moved by her appeal that he should help her 
 to follow Norman's philanthropic footsteps. There are few 
 men to whom the simple goodness of a pretty woman fails 
 to appeal, and Kennard was not of them. 
 
 " I am so httle experienced, it would be so kind if 
 you would help me. You, in your profession, must come 
 across so much hardship ; I have been thinking, wonder- 
 ing, if I might ask you to help me. I don't want to do 
 only what every one has done, hospitals and that sort of 
 thing ; I want to help people who haven't been thought 
 of, my mind is full of it. Not old people ; it seems to me 
 they don't matter," she interjected, laughingly, " no, 
 I don't mean that exactly. But children, or girls like I 
 was, or people who are not ill enough to be in hospitals, 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 53 
 
 or well enough to be in lodgings. I don't want to give 
 away only money ; I want to do something myself. I 
 tried to make Fred understand, but Fred is so conven- 
 tional. I was thinking — " she stumbled a little now 
 and blushed, and her eyes fell before his, " that you were 
 not conventional ; you might tell me what I can do." 
 
 " No ! I am not very conventional." 
 
 Her smile was tremulous, his whimsical, perhaps re- 
 morseful. 
 
 " So you are to play Don Quixote in petticoats, and I 
 am to find you in windmills ! But I may have to go 
 abroad. What if I have to go abroad ? " 
 
 She looked up, startled, there was no subtlety or dis- 
 guise about her, her sweet Ups quivered, and her eyes 
 were suddenly sad. " Go abroad ! Oh ! must you ? 
 I had begun to count upon you." Eyes and voice were 
 near to tears. 
 
 She tempted him no less to-day than yesterday. 
 
 " Well, I must see what I can do for you first. There, 
 don't look so disappointed. I won't disappoint you. 
 You want to help the unhelpable, that is so, isn't it 1 
 But what are you going to do for yourself, by and bye, 
 when the first days of your mourning are over ? What 
 are your dreams for yourself ? Travel, picture galleries, 
 mountains ? Races, balls, diamonds ? You know you 
 are beautiful, don't you ? " 
 
 "Oh! no, no." 
 
 " But you are. And you will have admirers, lovers. 
 Have you thought of nothing but how you are going 
 to distribute your wealth ? " 
 
 She was young enough, ingenuous enough, to blush 
 when he praised her, to be strangely uplifted and glad 
 
54 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 that he thought her beautiful. Right into the back- 
 ground of her mind she had pushed away the memory 
 of that kiss. She had piled lumber in front of it. Yet 
 it was there as a secret, somewhat sweet. She knew 
 it was wrong, she had put it out of sight, turned the 
 key on it with quick trembhng fingers. But it was 
 there. And to day when she looked on his handsome 
 face, and eloquent eyes, and the strength and fine man- 
 hood of him, she could not but be a httle thrilled at the 
 knowledge of the secret they held in common, the moment 
 when she had felt the surprise of his hps and his arms, 
 and found herself startled and shocked by that assault, 
 already softened and sweetened in the retrospect. To 
 her he could not but be different from all other men ; 
 seeing that he and she held that secret together, and to 
 no one else had she yielded so much. 
 
 They sat there talking until lunch was announced. 
 She showed him again how young and soft her heart was. 
 To her, everybody was just what he or she seemed, and the 
 goodness of the world was only checked by its poverty 
 and wants. If only she could relieve those ! that was 
 her cry. She was just as restless, just as eager, just as 
 full of hfe, as any of the young women he had met or 
 known, only her ideals were difierent, and her self was not 
 to the fore. He was entranced, he had known so 
 many women, his life had been fuU of women. Now 
 he felt that he had really known nothing, that there had 
 been a world of women hidden away from him. 
 
 " But who taught you, child, who taught you your 
 desires, how you must use your money ? " 
 
 " If — if I know anything, if there is any good in 
 me, it is to Norman I owe it. He was always ill, 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 55 
 
 always, from the first day I came to be his secretary ; 
 but he was always thinking what he could do for other 
 people. The letters he dictated I could hardly take 
 down sometimes, for crying. He seemed to know what 
 to say, so that people should not mind asking him for 
 things, but should feel how he hked to give them. He had 
 the most exquisite sensitiveness." 
 
 She began to look back, to see how things had been 
 with them. She was happy in talking to this man, as 
 he was encouraging her to do, about herself, about her 
 past ! He was so sympathetic, and the future stretched 
 bright before her, with him to help in aU her schemes, to 
 show her the way, to guide her. She saw that he was 
 clever, unconventional, that he knew at once what she 
 had in her mind. The poor incapables for whom there 
 were no institutions ! it was for them she would 
 use her money. She did not want to be independent, to 
 stand alone. She had been content to be guided by 
 Norman Darcy, she was glad, she was nervous, she 
 was exhilarated, at the prospect of being led by Errington 
 Welch-Kennard. 
 
 He reahsed well enough the danger of it, in a way, 
 the pathos of it. She was absolutely alone in the 
 world. 
 
 " It was when I lost my father, four years ago, and Mr. 
 Darcy was ordered abroad. I did not know what I 
 should do, I had to look out for another situation im- 
 mediately. It isn't easy to get a post as secretary; 
 and then I should have had to hve alone, or go back 
 to my aunts at Salisbury. Norman knew all about 
 it, for father had been twenty years with the firm. He 
 asked me if I would hke to go to Italy with him. 
 
56 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Of course, I knew what an invalid he was and that he 
 might never get better. He thought it was better I 
 should be married to him." 
 
 The history was so simple, and so simply told. 
 
 " And you loved him 1 " 
 
 Welch-Kennard ought not to have asked that, he 
 knew he ought not to have asked it. He saw the flush, 
 the almost painful doubt in the questioning eyes she 
 turned on him. Love ! how Uttle she knew of it — as 
 yet. And this was the girl to whom he had come 
 yesterday, as to a . . . 
 
 He felt hot, ashamed, as he remembered how, and with 
 what thoughts, he had come to her yesterday. 
 
 " Luncheon is served." The announcement saved 
 the necessity for a reply to the question that ought 
 never to have been asked. 
 
 " You will join me at lunch, won't you ? I have so 
 many meals alone." 
 
 •■ It was prominently true, in this big house there was 
 only this slender girl, and, of course, her days must be 
 lonely, empty. 
 
 " It was different when Norman was here. There 
 were always people coming in and out, and the doctor 
 lived in the house with us at the last, and Fred 
 was here most days." 
 
 "Oh! yes, Fred!" 
 
 He had forgotten Fred. He followed her down to the 
 dirung-room. 
 
 " I have a clerk meeting me here at 2.30. So you are 
 not to be consulted about details, only results ? " 
 
 She was so glad he was going to lunch with her, and 
 that she was not going to lose him yet. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 57 
 
 " Tell me what you think I ought to know." 
 
 Of course, it struck him, he would not have been the 
 man he was if it had not, how badly everything was done 
 in this wealthy household. In the furnishing of the 
 house, in the cooking and ordering of the lunch, he saw 
 that everything was, and had been, ill done. She was 
 getting nothing from her wealth, she had no knowledge 
 of how to handle it. 
 
 But, somehow, his spirits rose during that most in- 
 different of plain luncheons. He could teach her so 
 much, and she was so teachable. It was characteristic 
 of him to lose sight of the ultimate, and to be suddenly 
 in good spirits from no apparent cause. 
 
 While the servants were in the room he talked to her 
 about his travels. He had been everywhere, seen every- 
 thing, he talked with amazing brilliancy. She was 
 enthralled by the vivid pictures he gave her. 
 
 " I have had experiences, bad times. I was stranded 
 in New York when I was twenty-one, with five dollars 
 in my pocket, and without a friend. That is when I 
 became versed in palmistry." He omitted to tell her 
 about the opera singer with whom he had travelled. 
 
 He told her how he had given his five dollars, one by 
 one, for lessons in the art of palmistry, how he had rapidly 
 become a professor, and set up for himself. He told her 
 how he had bamboozled his landlord into furnishing 
 his rooms, and a newspaper manager into giving him 
 credit for advertisements. He made her laugh with the 
 description of his first client, and of some of the others. 
 How they gradually instructed him in the art of telling 
 fortunes by the questions they asked, the leads they 
 gave him. He loved that low infectious laugh of hers, 
 
58 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 he brought it out again and again. He had forgotten 
 how high-spirited he had been as a boy, the things he 
 had done. But, diving about in his memory, or drawing 
 on his invention, he entertained her endlessly. 
 
 At length, they were alone in the room. The cofiee 
 tray was before her, and the Kqueurs before him ; a mile 
 of table, or so it seemed, separated them. 
 
 " May I come over there ? I feel I have to shout you 
 my adventures." 
 
 He took his hqueur over with him, he drew his chair 
 near hers, he even helped her with the cofiee-making. 
 Norman had been particular about his coffee, and this 
 was a German machine, a complicated arrangement of 
 glass and metal. 
 
 " Fred gave us this," she said, in explaining how it 
 was to be used. 
 
 " Oh ! Bother Fred, ' he exclaimed, as he scalded his 
 in fingers turning it over. "I knew, 1 felt that he was 
 my enemy! I beg your pardon, but I've burnt my 
 fingers." 
 
 She was full of concern, she even took his iiand to 
 see where it had been burnt, she was moved to distress. 
 And Errington Welch-Kemiard revelled in her soft 
 touch and sympathy, and began to tell her so, his 
 strange eyes fixed a httle too tenderly, perhaps, upon her 
 uiixious face ; for a man cannot change his habits 
 quickly. 
 
 It was just that moment, just that inauspicious 
 moment, that Fred Darcy chose to walk unannoimced 
 into the dining-room. He had had the freedom of 
 the house since he was a boy. 
 
 Berenice dropped the hurt hand quickly, in confusion. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 59 
 
 Errington showed himself master of that, or any, situa- 
 tion. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Darcy ; excuse my not shaking 
 hands with you. This kettle of yours is rather com- 
 phcated. I was trying to turn it upside down for Mrs. 
 Darcy, she tells me it has to go upside down as soon 
 as it boils, when it boiled over ; I wasn't quick enough 
 for it ! " 
 
 Fred was stiff and awkward in his expression of 
 regret, in his greeting to them both. But Errington, 
 wrapping the handkerchief round his hurt hand, went 
 on talking rapidly. 
 
 " What a lucky chance you came in. I was hoping 
 for an opportunity for a few words with you before our 
 official meeting. May we ask, do you think we may 
 ask, Mrs. Darcy to have her coffee taken upstairs, to 
 leave us to each other for a little ? " 
 She rose at once. 
 
 " Shall I send you down some salve ? The pain of a 
 scald is so bad." 
 He held the door open for her. 
 
 " No ! No ! It is very kind of you, but it is nothing, 
 nothing at all." 
 
 " How they adore the opportunity of making a fuss, 
 these women," he said to Fred, when she had gone, 
 dropping easily into a chair. " I look upon it as a lucky 
 chance you came in just then. I dishke ambulance work 
 being practised upon me. Now I shall be able to hear 
 your news. It seems to me — " and he went into rapid 
 detail of the original partnership deed. 
 
 Fred had been startled at seeing them together, so 
 close together. But he too had no experience, or^ know- 
 
60 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 ledge, to bring to bear against Welch-Kennard's tact and 
 diplomacy. 
 
 Of course, Fred knew the importance of his own views 
 on every subject. But it was not unflattering that this 
 man, so much older, should have been struck, in their very 
 first interview, by the value and weight of his opinions. 
 
 " Women and business are really incompatible," 
 said Welch-Kennard again, presently. " It is almost 
 impossible to get Mrs. Norman Darcy to reaUse the value 
 of money, the meaning of figures " 
 
 " Oh ! but my cousin's wife is not unintelligent. 
 I am sure I could make her understand." 
 
 " My dear fellow — I am sure you could. I don't 
 pretend to your gifts." 
 
 The " dear fellow " seemed rather a liberty. Fred 
 resented any one taking a hberty with him. But Erring- 
 ton Welch-Kennard understood the type with which he 
 had to deal, and played up to it. Before they had 
 finished their conversation, before the partners, and 
 the clerk with the black bag, had arrived, and the serious 
 business of the afternoon had commenced, Errington 
 had succeeded in wiping out of Fred's memory the scene 
 he had surprised ; he had been able to imprint indelibly 
 on Fred's mind, how highly he esteemed him. It was so 
 " correct " of him to have insisted on Mrs. Darcy having 
 her own representative, but it was almost unnecessary, 
 in view of his, Fred's, exceptional fair-mindedness and 
 acumen ! This was the tone the lawyer adopted. 
 
 Fred was ashamed he had had a momentary pang, a 
 passing suspicion, on his entry. It wronged Mrs. Norman 
 Darcy' s recent widowhood. He thought that, when, not 
 only his interview with her lawyer, but the meeting of 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 61 
 
 all of them, in the library, had come and gone. All 
 the lead had been left to him, it was he who had ex- 
 plained everjrthing to the meeting. And, because he 
 was so good at explaining, and had so remarkable a 
 gift of lucidity and clear expression, Mr. Welch-Kennard 
 had asked him to enUghten Berenice, also, as to what 
 was being done. 
 
 Fred sought her in the drawing-room. The flush, the 
 welcome that greeted him, misled him. He did not 
 know it was to an unanswered expectation he owed 
 them. 
 
 Barely two months widowed, her eyes were already 
 glowing and soft, as if from some inner light, and the 
 same Hght illumined her skin, which was dazzUng against 
 her black dress. 
 
 No thought of his had ever wronged her purity. 
 Norman Darcy had been more than a father to him, had 
 educated him, paid for his articles, pushed him forward. 
 He had encouraged the intimacy between his young 
 cousin and his young wife. Fred had read into Norman's 
 kindness and encouragement his behef that it was to 
 him, this young kinsman, he would entrust her, when the 
 time, the inevitable time, came, that she would need a 
 guardian. 
 
 He told her now, as he had promised Welch-Kennard 
 he would, aU that had passed at the meeting. It 
 seemed there was a question as to how one clause of the 
 old agreement should be interpreted, and, although he, 
 Fred, quite saw her lawyer's point of view, he could not 
 permit the partners to accept it without mature reflec- 
 tion. They were going to draw up a case for counsel, 
 and, on the result, they would decide whetiier to go to 
 
62 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 arbitration, or take it into court as a friendly law- 
 suit. It was a nice point, a very nice point, as to 
 whether 
 
 But here she interrupted him. 
 
 " Isn't he coming up ? Isn't Mr. Welch-Kennard 
 going to explain things to me himself ? " 
 
 " He had an appointment ; he seems to be a busy 
 man. But able, I must say, very able, and if he con- 
 vinces us that you are to remain a partner, that we 
 must either pay you out, or continue to pay Norman's 
 share to you as Norman's executrix, you will certainly 
 be in his debt." 
 
 Berenice cloaked her disappointment, cloaked it ill, 
 to any one more skilled than Fred Darcy in reading 
 women's looks. She was quiet, abstracted, as Fred Hn- 
 gered ; the only subject to which she brought him back, 
 again and again, was as to his opinion of Welch-Kennard's 
 abilities. She even pretended to doubt them, so that 
 she might hear again how he had impressed Fred- 
 And Fred could afford to be generous. His last linger- 
 ing doubt had vanished when Welch-Kennard, after a 
 brilliantly conducted battle on her behalf, had pressed 
 Fred to save him going upstairs, by conveying to her the 
 result of their consultation. 
 
 " I don't think you could have put yourself in better 
 hands," he said dehberately. All the Darcys were slow 
 of speech, dehberate ; and Fred, being young, rather 
 accentuated the family manner. He put accurate 
 thought into rounded phrase, and mouthed it with the 
 BalUol intonation. 
 
 How he bored her, as he sat on, in the afternoon, and 
 talked, always talked, with that monotonous intoning. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 63 
 
 How it contrasted with the morning, the lunch-time, 
 the time that she had hoped to repeat. 
 
 " You must not allow yourself to grow low-spirited, 
 to get depressed," Fred said, when at length he got up 
 to go. " I will come round as often as I can — you 
 will consider that point I was suggesting, about having 
 some one to Uve with you, some nice woman, Gertrude 
 Darcy, for instance ? " 
 
 " Oh ! no, no, Fred. I don't want any one to Uve 
 with me." She was dismayed at the prospect. 
 
 He pressed the point a Uttle urgently. It offended 
 the Darcy code that even he should be able to come in 
 and find her alone, in the twilight, in the evening hours. 
 Even whilst he reaUsed how pleasant the prospect, how 
 easy the road would be made to that castle in Spain he 
 was building so carefully, with such rigid attention to 
 detail, he realised also that it was not quite the thing ; 
 for she was so young. 
 
 " Well, I'll think it over. I'U let you know ; and 
 Fred — don't bother to come over often. I'm going to 
 be fearfully busy, and I am going to carry out all 
 Norman's wishes and schemes, I am going to keep up 
 all his correspondence " 
 
 " But you will be very careful. You will not commit 
 yourself to any promises, not without due consideration 
 and consultation." Fred took alarm. 
 
 " Oh ! I promise you that. I will do nothing without 
 consultation." If Fred and she had different consultants 
 in view it could not be helped. 
 
 " And I am going to do something of my own, some- 
 thing in memory of him. I want to think it over, to 
 work out the idea." 
 
64 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 She reddened ; she spoke with some hesitation. Of 
 what was she thinking her days might be full, why was 
 she arranging for soUtude, and uninterrupted afternoons 
 and evenings ? She might deceive Fred, she could not 
 deceive herself. 
 
 Fred Darcy thought she showed the right feehng. 
 He interpreted her hesitation, her blushes, to his own 
 satisfaction. Until she made up her mind to a chaperon, 
 to have some nice woman to live with her, he must not 
 come too often. He must leave her the twelve months 
 of her widowhood, the decorous twelve months of her 
 mourning and sohtude. 
 
 Ah ! how glad she was to get rid of him to-day ! 
 His cold and bony hand ! if it pressed hers ever so 
 gently, she returned the pressure with warmth. She 
 was so glad to get rid of him. 
 
 " Good-bye, dear Fred, good-bye. Don't bother about 
 me, I shall not be a bit dull ; I am never dull when I am 
 alone." 
 
CHAPTEE IV 
 
 She had her happy weeks for dreaming, she was left 
 undisturbed. 
 
 Errington Welch-Kennard came back to her that 
 evening, on some pretext of business, some detail of 
 which he had forgotten to inform Fred. Also he wanted 
 to return her handkerchief, and to tell her his hand was 
 all right. 
 
 In the days, the weeks, that followed the pretexts were 
 never lacking. Their friendship, their intimacy, pro- 
 gressed apace. He got an insight into a nature wholly 
 sweet, an inteUigence not below the average, an inno- 
 cence of the world and of evil almost incredible. She 
 got strange gUmpses into new worlds where men and 
 women suffered, through each other, of paradises where 
 they met and lingered; dazzhng short ghmpses he 
 gave her. 
 
 He came and went, he came and stayed away. He 
 filled the house with flowers. No one had ever sent her 
 flowers before. He wrote her short notes when he did 
 not come. No one had ever written her such notes 
 before. He called her " child." The word was as a 
 caress, it Hngered always in her ears. He lavished, 
 or so it seemed to her, great gifts of sympathetic hours, 
 of reminiscence and confidence, of magnetic hand- 
 pressures. Once, perhaps more than once, a kiss un- 
 
 E 
 
66 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 warranted, dropped on her hand, on her hair. And his 
 eyes kissed her often. 
 
 One night he stayed late. He forgot for that evening, 
 just for one hour of that one evening, that she was 
 so young, so inexperienced, that she was his chent and 
 the position was untenable. He forgot that he was 
 world-stained, unfit, in difficulties, that he had resolved 
 to abstain from this temptation, at least. That evening 
 in abandonment, he played for her a strange symphony. 
 She was bewildered and entranced by the intoxica- 
 ting music that he played to her, all unstrung by the 
 melody of it. Her dawning womanhood glowed and 
 brightened at the vibration of the strings, as he 
 touched them. Her depths were stirred by the in- 
 spiration of each successive episode in the music. He 
 was lonely. In the wail of the minor key she saw 
 it was Ms mate for which his spirit yearned. Now she 
 was charmed again by the adagio. To the soft obbhgato 
 of the violins she sang the swan-song of her happy 
 maidenhood. There was nothing of her that he had not 
 moved. She found his hps on her hps ! 
 
 Before she reahsed in that exquisite instant of response 
 that it was indeed love that had come to her, he was 
 gone ! 
 
 And then, hours afterwards, his letter was brought 
 to her. 
 
 " I dare not see you again as I saw you to-night. 
 Surround me with difficulties, child, barricade yourself 
 against me. ' Do we move of ourselves, or are we moved 
 by an unseen hand at a game ? ' I can't trust myself 
 with you, with your dark eyes, and the red hps that part 
 
THE SPHINX'S lIwYEE 67 
 
 and soften and smile sometiines as I talk, the Uttle 
 hands I kiss! Child, I am all amazed and bewildered 
 by you, or by myself ! Your soul, so white, sWes hke 
 stars in your eyes' soft depths. What have I with a 
 child's soul ? Your tremulous Hps — did I Idss them 
 to-night ? I did not dare, tell me I did not dare ; aU 
 my pulses are throbbing at the thought. Oh ! why are 
 you so good, why am I so unworthy ! Tyrant, you absorb 
 me — ^I shall throw you and your affairs into Chancery ! 
 Now you are smiling, I see it, your sweet smile ! 
 Write and ask me to forgive you ; you fill my days and 
 spoil my nights. How dare you so disturb me ? " 
 
 She grew, in the time that followed, to something hke 
 comprehension of him. Although he was never twice 
 ahke, although he broke almost as many appointments 
 as he made, changed from lover to lawyer, and from 
 lawyer to lover, in a way that hurt her pride, and 
 bruised her sensitiveness, she began to understand 
 him, to accept suffering from his hands, to see, in 
 humihty, her woman's place. 
 
 The days of her widowhood were so recent ; that was 
 part of the explanation she gave herself. But what he 
 evoked filled her days and nights. Sitting by the fireside 
 on idle mornings, on empty afternoons, she was always 
 listening for one step, dreaming but of one face Driving 
 in her brougham through the London streets, wrapped 
 in fur, sohtary, silent, in passing figures, in crowds or 
 empty side-streets, she saw but one face. 
 
 One curious afternoon she met him in Hans Crescent. 
 Sybil had written to her to come, for they had not 
 met since Norman's death. One whimsical reason after 
 
68 THE SPHINX'S LAWYEK 
 
 another Sybil had given to excuse herself from the visit 
 of condolence. In truth, she and her Apollo had been 
 constantly together these last few months, and she 
 had perforce to let events take their course. Now, 
 although the unnatural brilliance of her eyes, the dead 
 pallor of her sldn, and her languid movements, told of 
 exhaustion, she was ahve again for the nonce, and keen 
 to hear how matters had progressed. 
 
 " How sweet of you to come and see me," she began ; 
 she could not admit that she had been ill. " I ought to 
 have gone to you, but I had a bound MS. of the ' Contra 
 Gentes,' by Athanasius of Alexandria, brought me, a 
 facsimile of the one in the Egerton collection, the edges 
 gilt and gaufiered — ^the roundels copper-gilt ! There ! 
 I don't want to make you madly jealous, but I could not 
 leave it, it was literally impossible for me to tear myself 
 away." 
 
 She went into details of the binding, she had the 
 technicaHties at her finger-ends. 
 
 " You forgive me not going out under the circum- 
 stances, you would have been the same, wouldn't you ? 
 And now, how have you been getting on ? I want to 
 hear all about it, everything." 
 
 Berenice's education had not included old Italian 
 bindings ; she would not have been jealous if Sybil had 
 acquired the national collection. She had been shocked 
 at Sybil's pallor and evident exhaustion, but, knew 
 enough of her idiosyncrasy against the suspicion of 
 iU-health to make no direct allusion to it. 
 
 "I am glad you have got something you care for," 
 was her soft answer. This new love was widening her 
 wide sympathies ; now she wanted aU the world to be 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 69 
 
 happy. And it was the Sphinx who had given her happi- 
 ness. She did not know what the " Contra Gentes " was, 
 nor even, probably, who was Athanasius of Alexandria, 
 but she was infinitely glad that the sick woman should 
 have what pleased her. She bent over her, and kissed 
 her very tenderly. 
 
 But the Sphinx hated the note of sympathy in her 
 voice, the tenderness of her kiss. Sybil wanted nothing 
 from this girl but that she should be good to Errington, 
 should give him herself, her fortune. She was impatient 
 of her sympathy. 
 
 " Sit down, take ofi your gloves ; can't you take 
 off, too, that advertisement of a widow's bonnet ! 
 You must stay and tell me everything, all about 
 it. What have you been doing? [How far have you 
 got?" 
 
 " Got ? " echoed the other vaguely. They were not 
 really intimates, she coidd not divine what the Sphinx 
 was asking her. Had Errington told of her scheme for 
 perpetuating Norman's memory ? With a pang of 
 dismay she remembered that she had taken no step 
 in the matter. She answered quickly : 
 
 " Oh ! I've drawn up a hst of the subscriptions that I 
 must keep up, and another of those that I should hke 
 to add, and Mr. Welch-Kennard ..." 
 
 " Yes ! yes ! 1 know. But how about Welch- 
 Kennard ? That's the point. Have you fallen in love 
 with him ? But of course you have." 
 
 " Sybil — my mourning ! " 
 
 Her breath was taken away, the sudden flush burned 
 her, she could hardly speak. To bring her thoughts, 
 the thoughts so sacred that she had not voiced them 
 
70 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 even to herself, into the crude dayhght, was cruel, im- 
 possible. " My mourning — " she faltered. 
 
 " Oh ! of course, of course. But if you were in green 
 now, or blue, would you be in love with him ? Isn't he 
 a dear fellow ? You haven't thanked me for giving him 
 to you." 
 
 " He is — he has been very good to me." 
 
 Sybil laughed. The other, so near tears, put out her 
 hand — 
 
 " Don't, dear, don't," she pleaded. 
 
 " Don't question you ? " 
 
 " Norman ! You know how good Norman was to me." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! Poor Norman," the Sphinx rephed quickly, 
 " I am so sorry I forgot to send him a wreath. But I 
 don't think he missed it 1 " She went on laughing 
 softly. She did not want Berenice to be sentimental 
 about Norman Darcy ; she wanted to hear, to know, 
 what she and Errington had been about. " I can't 
 help it, Berenice. Don't look so shocked. I was only 
 thinking how funny Norman would look in a wreath. 
 Of course, I know they don't wear them, but still " 
 
 The image she conjured up, Berenice could not but 
 see. The paralysis had aSected poor Norman's face, 
 it was drawn a httle on one side. It was cruel of Sybil 
 to make a jest of him. Her face showed her feelings. 
 
 " Tell me some more about your books, your prints ; 
 I Hke to hear you talk about such things," she said 
 hastily. 
 
 " No. I want to hear about you and Errington." 
 
 The colour flamed again in her cheeks. 
 
 " There is nothing to hear," she answered shortly. 
 
 " Well, is he a good lawyer ? " asked Sybil mis- 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 71 
 
 chievously. How that child was blushing, surely, it 
 was all right for Errington ; who could resist Mm ? He 
 was much too good for her. 
 
 " Is he a good lawyer ? " she asked again. 
 
 " I believe — yes — I think Messrs. Darcy, Fred Darcy — 
 we all . . . think him a very clever lawyer." 
 
 She was confused and uncertain, she had not yet 
 recovered from the shock of Sybil's question : 
 
 Was she in love with him ? 
 
 She knew, she had known, since yesterday. And his 
 letter even now was resting against her heart. But she 
 could not speak of it, of him; it was only for herseM, this 
 wonderful secret. The Sphinx saw through her, saw 
 right through her. 
 
 " I see it aU — I see it all — you are madly in love 
 with him. You don't want to teU me, but I can see it, 
 read it," she exclaimed triumphantly. 
 
 " I wiU go — I will go if you talk hke that," Berenice 
 said desperately. Tears were in her eyes, in her voice. 
 
 " It — it isn't fair. He has said nothing — there is 
 nothing " 
 
 " And that is all you wiU tell me ? I, who arranged 
 it so beautifully, who gave him to you." She was dis- 
 appointed at not being made a confidante, and accen- 
 tuated her disappointment so that Berenice might be 
 moved. She had been sitting up, now she lay down 
 among her piUows. 
 
 " He is my best, my greatest friend, and I gave him 
 to you. I sent him away from me. I thought you, 
 and he, would have come to tell me before now." 
 
 " There is nothing to tell, there is really nothing to 
 teU." ' 
 
72 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Berenice was all hurried, she heard a step on the 
 stair ; both of them heard it. She could not keep her 
 heart from bounding at the sound of that step, nor 
 the fluctuating betraying colour from flooding her 
 cheeks. She was beside Sybil again, in confusion, apo- 
 logy, farewell. 
 
 Sybil caught her dress, detained her. 
 
 " Why don't you tell me ? I see it, I saw it, for my- 
 self. There is no one in the world hke him, you can't 
 sleep for thinking of him ; I read it all in your eyes. 
 You made an appointment here " 
 
 " No, no. Let me go, Sybil, I " 
 
 " I sha'n't. I want to see you together. Has he got 
 over the fact that you have too much money ? He is so 
 proud." 
 
 Was it that between them ? Berenice's heart leaped, 
 she had not thought of that. Was that perhaps why 
 he came, and went, came, and stayed away, tortured 
 her? 
 
 She was grateful to Sybil for the suggestion, she bent 
 again to Mss her. 
 
 Now he was in the room. For the moment, she could 
 not see him, the room was dark before her, and she could 
 not see him. It was only last night he had kissed 
 her. Still on her hps she felt the soft heat of his, stiU 
 about her shoulders she felt the close dear pressure of his 
 arms. His letter lay upon her heart. 
 
 To-day, to-day again all was changed. But she 
 had the clue, Sybil had given her the clue, it was not 
 only her recent widowhood, it was her wealth ! Ah ! 
 now she could bear his changed voice and maimer. 
 
 Errington had had time to prepare himself, he had 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYEE 73 
 
 recognised her liveries outside the house. As he himself 
 would have put it, he was not going to give himself 
 away ! 
 
 " I've been engaged on your business nearly aU day, 
 Mrs. Darcy ! " he said, after his cool friendly greeting to 
 them both. But it was difficult for him to avoid seeing 
 the deep flush, and then the pallor ; the wide eyes, full 
 of wonder that, after last night, he could greet her so, the 
 hurt look. What a child she was in intrigue ! 
 
 " Figure to yourself. Sphinx, your poor Brrington up 
 to his neck in legal technicahties, fighting to give this 
 young lady another thousand or two on to an iucome 
 which, as it is, is much too large for her to know how 
 to spend." 
 
 " You should help her to spend it ; I dare say you 
 would not find it difficult," said Sybil maUciously. 
 
 He broke into a short laugh, but Berenice said " Good- 
 bye," hurriedly. 
 
 "I must be going," she said, "I have an appointment. 
 Don't get up, Sybil." But again the Sphinx held on to 
 her, detained her. 
 
 " No, no, don't go yet. Tea is coming up in a minute." 
 
 " I must." 
 
 She was desperate to get away. It was impossible 
 to be in the room with him like this ; she could hardly 
 bear it. She could not meet his eyes, or Sybil's. He 
 had no words for her; had he forgotten last night? 
 She gave him, too, a hurried farewell. But, as he held the 
 door open for her, he asked in a low voice, his eyes meet- 
 ing hers : 
 
 " Are you going straight home ? Will you be in at 
 six ? " 
 
74 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 The SpMnx, watcliing him from the sofa, smiled quietly 
 to herself. When he came back, and threw himself 
 into the low chair, and sighed, she asked him mock- 
 ingly : 
 
 " Well ! will she be at home at six ? " 
 
 " Oh ! so you heard that, did you ? " 
 
 " Of course. How much longer for the denouement ? 
 I am getting impatient, we aU are." 
 
 " All ! " He raised his eyebrows inquiringly, bring- 
 ing his thoughts back with difficulty to her. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " she said easily. "I've told them aU 
 about it, I've warned ofi Scott- Brooking and I've en- 
 couraged the others to console him by making a book 
 on the result. They are laying six to four on your 
 proposing within the month, even money within the next 
 two." 
 
 " Don't, Sphinx, don't." He got up and walked about 
 the room restlessly. " It jars — the thing is not as 
 simple as it looks. I'm in a sort of fiduciary position 
 towards her. She is very attractive, of course " 
 
 " Can't you make up your mind 1 " she asked him 
 curiously. 
 
 Whatever dishke he might have felt to satisfying her 
 curiosity, he knew there was no help for it. He con- 
 tinued to walk about the room, touching this or the 
 other ornament, commenting upon them with a casual 
 word or two, for he also was a connoisseur. She let him 
 take his own time, and at last he broke out into speech. 
 
 " I have fallen in love with her ; that's the whole of 
 it, that's the truth of it. I haven't a shadow of excuse ; 
 she is twenty years younger than I am, and a hundred 
 years less experienced. The sweetness, the sheer good 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 75 
 
 goodness of her, appals me. I see her at needlework, — 
 she belongs to some guild where they make clothes for 
 the poor — I see her bending over it, while she draws Uttle 
 pictures to herself, to me, of the women, the children, who 
 will wear the clothes, who will be warmed, and grateful, 
 and glad that some one was so thoughtful of them. Oh ! 
 God ! Sphinx, and to think of me, of the life I've led, of 
 the things I know. And it isn't only that ; it isn't only 
 her sweet soul, the charity and pitifulness of her. Some- 
 times there are flashes of brilhant intelligence, sometimes 
 I seem to see the rarest nature, depth and womanliness. 
 And I am such a beast ! I can't alter ; sometimes I see 
 only her hair, her eyes, or that slender undeveloped figure, 
 all grace and youth . . . ." 
 
 He groaned, he took up a bowl that lay on the vitrine ; 
 it was of jade, exquisitely carved. " Thank Heaven, it's 
 almost unbreakable," thought the Sphinx, for, true enough, 
 he banged it down, in another minute, as if it were of 
 no value. It was of no value to him at the moment. 
 
 " Then there's that damned eight thousand a year. 
 Money is no use to me, you know that well enough, 
 except to give away, or spend on women. I can't do 
 that with hers, can I ? To let myself go, to take her, 
 well, you know what I mean, it's so infernally mean. 
 It's a child, a baby, hardly a woman at all, it doesn't 
 know what it is looking at, and yet stretches out both 
 hands for it. And I'm going on for forty. I've spent 
 everything my father left me, and my income is hypo- 
 thecated for God knows how many years." 
 
 " This is the only time, in all those thirty odd years, 
 that you have held yourself back, isn't it ? " she asked 
 him, thoughtfully, reflectively. 
 
76 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " The only time ! I begin to see that I have never 
 lived, only wallowed, Kke a pig in a trough. I've always 
 eaten when I've been hungry, dmnk when I've been 
 thirsty. And I have not altered, one does not alter. 
 But now, although I'm starving, I can't eat. I have the 
 strangest sinkings, fears, misgivings ! Why is it, 
 Sphinx ? " 
 
 So, a great passion was coming to him ! Odd, in- 
 credible, unbearable ! And yet she had foreseen it. 
 Strange, too, the pang that shot through her, the pang 
 that was almost physical, that turned her hps white. 
 He noted her pallor. He had been good to her, always, 
 incredibly good. He came over to her now, and stood 
 beside her. 
 
 " Has it been bad lately ? " he asked. " Poor Sybil ! 
 Poor Sphinx ! And I am talking only of myself ; think- 
 ing only of myself." He leant over her, he adjusted 
 her pillow. 
 
 " Has it been bad, dear ? " 
 
 She would not have his sympathy. 
 
 " Don't fuss over me. I am all right. Apollo has 
 been a trifle more exacting than usual, that's all ! " 
 And yet it was difhcult for her to speak. 
 
 " Ah ! more exacting, has he 1 You had better have 
 had me for a lover ! We should not have quarrelled." 
 
 He saw she would not tell him how she suffered ; that 
 he must fall in with her mood, although he was all un- 
 strung and unfit to play his part. 
 
 " Ah ! but my Apollo is always sweet, and faithful, 
 the exquisite agony of his supreme moments com- 
 pensates me for all his encroachments and occasional 
 waywardness. Don't talk about my love afiairs, it's 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 77 
 
 immoral, it's almost indecent. Go on telling me about 
 yours." 
 
 The man, whatever his faults, had something of the 
 tenderness and pitifulness of a woman ; and to him, too, 
 love brought sympathy. There was, perhaps, more in 
 common between himself and Berenice than he knew. 
 The tragedy on the sofa, the agony in the depths of 
 Sybil's wonderful eyes, the brave aspect she wore in 
 her long dying, moved him no less than it had moved 
 his ladylove, moved him to disregard her wishes, to 
 make an effort to get nearer to her. 
 
 " Can nothing be done for you, nothing ? " he asked, 
 his voice husky, laying his hand caressingly on the 
 pillow beside her, speaking with emotion. " Don't put 
 me off, Sybil, you have denied yourself to me over and 
 over again this last month. Have you seen a doctor ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," she answered hghtly, but letting her cheek 
 lie against his hand. " I saw a doctor, two, in fact. 
 They ordered me something to drink; but the first 
 bottle that came smelt so strangely that I think it 
 must have been ' corked.' The second was certainly 
 ' ullaged.' I like my own ceUar best. You superintended 
 the filling of that, you know. Perrier Jouet '89 suits 
 me better than the stuff they ordered. Don't bother 
 about me, Brrington." 
 
 She pushed him away, mentally and physically. She 
 would not let the conversation drift on to herself, and 
 her state of health. 
 
 " How about you and Berenice ? I'll show you my 
 ' Contra Gentes ' presently ; that is why I denied myself 
 to you. I was jealous of any one seeing it until I had 
 all the details by heart, imtil I had made it really my 
 
78 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 own. You know I am always mad about these things, 
 that is why I saw no one lately ; there has been nothing 
 more serious than that the matter with me. But now, 
 tell me, tell me some more about yourself and Berenice. 
 I knew she was the one woman in the world for you. 
 She has all the possibihties, and the true Rossetti hps 
 and hair. You can make what you will of her. She 
 is clever, too. The way, before she met you, that she 
 fell in with Scott-Brooking's idea for the operetta proved 
 that to me, she would have written it admirably or at 
 least Pitmanned it ! She catches fire from an idea in a 
 moment, she is only at the beginning of everything. 
 Love will make or unmake her." 
 
 She had to stop in her enumeration of Berenice 
 Darcy's virtues. She thought she was past sensitive- 
 ness, that aU things were clear to her in the hght that 
 shone upon her now, at the end of the black tunnel that 
 her Ufe had been. She had crawled through the last 
 few sections so slowly, and been glad only of the intervals 
 of unconsciousness and surcease from pain. Parts of her 
 were callous now against hurt. Yet she had to pause 
 in telhng him of Berenice's charms ! 
 
 She was old, her charms had gone, her day was done. 
 He had never been her lover, he had been only the one 
 man she had ever loved. 
 
 He had been such a faithful friend, so unceasingly 
 good to her, had given her what she wanted always, not 
 as other men had done, but just what she wanted. He 
 had effaced himself always, in a manly pitifulness, in 
 a womanly tenderness, in a sympathy made intense 
 by silence. She had leaned upon him, and he had 
 never failed her ; being not a rigidjprop, but giving 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 79 
 
 way, and bending, and letting her move as slie listed, all 
 Ms strength phant to her mood. LboMtig back, she did 
 not see how she could have hved through it all with- 
 out him. She loved him. She was a dying wiDinan, 
 desperately tired of Kving, and there was nothing that 
 she had to leave except this scapegrace of a lawyer, 
 whose beautiful eyes had looked softly and sympathetic- 
 ally on all her misdeeds, on all her mistakes. Who alone 
 of all her fri'ehds, of aU whom she had known, had never 
 been selfish, nbr forgetful, who had always understood, 
 and never spoken. 
 
 She wanted to help him. The end might be nearer 
 than he knew, and she wanted to help him before it 
 came. She had learnt what was the best thiilg hfe has 
 to 6ffer nlen and women, when the knowledge was too 
 late to profit her. But he should profit. 
 
 " Why are you hesitating, undecided ? Is it the 
 fortune ? " 
 
 " Partly, and partly her youth and inexperience. She 
 knows so httle, has seen nothing. I look at myself 
 through other men's eyes ; the world would call me a 
 roue, an adventurer." 
 
 " But if she is in love with you ? " 
 
 " She does not know the meaning of the word." 
 
 " Not of passion, perhaps." 
 
 " Oh ! Yes, that is just it. For, if she knew me as 
 
 155 
 am 
 
 " Norma, Elsa Beethoven, Lady Helbert ? " 
 
 " It's impossible, Sphinx, you see it's impossible. 
 
 If she were not rich, now ; if her husband's death had 
 
 left her poor 
 
 " You would have told her you were a reforined 
 
80 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 character, you would have grown into a reformed 
 character ! But you could not have afforded to marry 
 her, you know. You could have added her to your 
 collection, but you could not have afforded matrimony 
 if she had nothing ! " 
 
 " Oh ! Yes, that is just what I could have done ; I 
 could have settled down. I find I haven't forgotten my 
 law, and they would be glad to have me more regularly 
 at the office ; Carker told me that. He could make some 
 arrangement with my creditors. I told him everything 
 about my habihties. And we could have hved simply. 
 She has the simplest tastes." 
 
 " But you have not." 
 
 " I could have acquired them." 
 
 " Omnibuses, underground railways, cheap clothes, 
 the suburbs ! I see it all. You couldn't have stood it, 
 Errington, you don't know yourself." 
 
 " I could have done it all for her. You don't know 
 the difference it makes. Oh ! I know the jargon as well 
 as you do. Are you still so sure Heseltine was right, 
 that we've always called things by the wrong names, 
 that bad is good, and good is bad, and pleasure is every- 
 thing ? But I'm in revolt, Sphinx. My Ufe has been a 
 waste, because I never sat at a woman's hearth, and saw 
 her at homely needlework." 
 
 " Oh ! what a decadence ! What would Algernon 
 have said ? " she mocked, though his words made her 
 never-sleeping pain active. 
 
 " He would have fouled it somehow, I've no doubt," 
 he said brutally. 
 
 He hurt her for the first time. It was the first blow 
 she had ever had from him, although all the world had 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 81 
 
 struck at her. She found herself without speech or 
 laughter as he went on. 
 
 " Whatever he did, or said, his genius made it seem 
 right, possible, at the moment. No one knew the 
 influence he wielded, and still wields, better than I do. 
 But it was a devastating unnatural influence. I have 
 
 been half-blind all these years Have I hurt you ? 
 
 Dear God ! Have I hurt you ? " 
 
 She had become suddenly pallid round the Hps, grey. 
 He was filled with remorse and self-accusation when he 
 saw how terrible she looked, anguish personified sat in 
 her wonderful eyes. To hold silence, to close the black 
 curtain upon Algernon Heseltine's crimes, to keep the 
 light shining, the bright perpetual hght on his genius, 
 to remember only the vivifying influence he had been 
 to art, hterature, poetry, drama, this had been aU that 
 was left to her. Why did Errington word to her that 
 it was delusive, he, who had stood by her side, and up- 
 held her in her crusade, in all her mistaken loyalty and 
 martyrdom 1 
 
 " Forgive me, Sphinx, I am half mad with inde- 
 cision, call it love, if you like. Dear, it isn't you, it isn't 
 Algernon, or the creed ; it's myself. Don't tell me I 
 have hurt you ! " 
 
 " It's aU right with me, it was nothing that you said, 
 it was just a touch of pain, toothache, nothing." She 
 bed heroically, and smiled bravely. 
 
 " But what are you supposed to have done, what 
 makes you feel unfit to marry the widow of a city banker ? 
 Wasn't he a banker, Norman Darcy ? You were not 
 even a disciple. Your hedonism has always been con- 
 ventional." 
 
82 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " Compared to her " 
 
 " A man of forty to a woman of twenty-four ! " 
 
 " But she is not like other women." 
 
 " Well ! " she smiled at him, she began to know what 
 she must do, " we must teach her better. If you won't, 
 we must." 
 
 " Sybil ! " 
 
 " Yes ! that is the only way, I see it now. You go ; 
 go to Japan. They are all longing for you to leave the 
 field clear ! " 
 
 " You are trying to frighten me ! " 
 
 " Frighten you ! Don't be so absurd. You can't 
 play dog in the manger. Woolley would hke eight 
 thousand a year on which to be cynical, he would know 
 how to spend it, too. Don't you think so ? He has 
 exquisite taste ! I should get my ' Paradise Lost ' 
 MS. ! " 
 
 " If she should ever get to know of the things I have 
 done ! View them through those pure eyes ! " 
 
 She could see she moved him, she could see him waver. 
 
 " We will take care of her for you. Apollo would see 
 her through the first shock. For I'm afraid she cares for 
 you, Errington, I'm afraid she cares. When we have 
 taught her how to five, and laugh, to laugh at every- 
 thing " 
 
 " That sweet low laugh ! Good God ! " 
 
 " We will show her the ' Apotheosis of Saint Errington 
 Welch-Kennard ' in a blue kimono, in Japan, smoking 
 opium with a geisha ! That will help her to get over it. 
 You told me of the incident, you remember." 
 
 " You — you think it is too late — you think she 
 cares ? " 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 83 
 
 " Don't let that worry you. Won't she have my 
 Apollo ? " 
 
 " Sphinx, you torture me. I'm torn with doubts. 
 Lila Helbert has left her husband for good ; she writes 
 me daily. Elsa Beethoven is coming back to London ; 
 Norma drags at me for money. I am not fit, dear, you 
 know I am not fit." 
 
 " No ! dear, of course, you are not, you're too 
 polyglot, too complex. The Darcy successor .should be 
 dull, argumentative. She would be better with a pofi- 
 tician, Willoughby WooUey, M.P., bimetalUst, for in- 
 stance, or Scott-Brooking. Leave her to us." 
 
 She had recovered herself perfectly now, she knew 
 what she must do for him. She went on talking, 
 she applauded his resolution. He was quite right, 
 he must not allow himself to be called a fortime — 
 hunter; it was time he began to think of what men 
 would say of him, it was different when he had been 
 young. He had not cared what people said, when he cham- 
 pioned Algernon's cause, and stood by her. It touched 
 him when she remembered this. But he had suffered 
 enough then, she went on, he must not risk going through 
 again what he had had to bear. She had not quite 
 reahsed how greatly he craved the good opinion of the 
 world ; but he was quite right. If Berenice cared, had 
 learnt to care for him, it was of no moment. The Sphinx 
 would not lose sight of her. 
 
 " I wiU take care of her. She may be nervous, ex- 
 citable, lonely at first, dear; but you must not think 
 about that. Anyway she shall not sufier; I promise 
 you that. They are very amusing, you know, you admit 
 that, — all my young men, all the ' fiat headed brigade,' 
 
84 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 as you used to call them. They will be such a variety 
 for her, too, Woolley, for instance, and Broolring. And 
 then there is Frank, she has not met Frank Dickin- 
 son, yet, nor Lord Belville. Don't worry about Bere- 
 nice, Errington. If you feel you must, you ought to, 
 go away from her, go right away. I promise you to 
 look after her. What ! you are not going " 
 
 " I heard a ring, I can't stand these fellows to-day." 
 
 " Well, good-bye, then ; good-bye, dear, dearest 
 Errington. You are quite right, I see it clearly, so 
 clearly now. You musn't be accused of fortune-himting. 
 You can't fight the world all over again " 
 
 She jested to the last, prodded him, tortured him 
 where he was rawest. Not until he had flung himself out 
 of the room, in uncontrollable irritation, in rage and 
 distaste, could she feel that her work for him was 
 being well done, could she he back, and rest, and 
 smile to herself with her white Hps, and be satisfied, 
 that at least she was doing what was best for him. 
 
 For, whatever she preached, she knew what was best, 
 this poor wreck of a woman ; she knew what she had 
 missed. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 Of course, Sybil had known by what arguments to move 
 him. 
 
 Just so young as Berenice, less beautiful, perhaps, but 
 with a more coruscating wit and intellect, better born, 
 better bred, had that poor Sybil been, when first she was 
 dazzled by the genius of Algernon Heseltine, the man 
 who had invested corruption with such pure poetry 
 that press and pubhc alike were blinded for a time to 
 its tendency. His brilUancy, his eccentricities, were the 
 talk of the hour when he came up from Oxford, having 
 gilded his name with the Newdigate, and estabUshed a 
 record in the schools. But soon, very soon, a whisper 
 about him spread like a leprosy through the town ; 
 before it had time to become a roar of execration, he 
 had made his defiant marriage. It was a quagmire 
 into which she sank, a morass ! Through the subtle 
 poison he distilled there was nothing of her but was 
 defiled. 
 
 Within a few years of their marriage came the public 
 shame, the public crucifixion ; for her the end of all 
 things, but humiliation. And once she had been so 
 proud ! 
 
 Errington knew, for, indeed, she had reminded him, 
 that if Algernon Heseltine was dead, there were, even 
 in this very set that gathered around the Sphinx, as 
 
86 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 flies around a carcass, men of the same tastes, the same 
 perverted instincts, the same desires. 
 
 Scott-Brooking, now ! It was Scott-Brooking who 
 had taken Berenice Darcy to Hans Crescent. The 
 young musician, with his coarse, ugly face, colossal 
 vanity, his loose lips and talk, had spent an evening 
 in her company before he, Welch-Kennard, had ever 
 met her. Some attraction he must have had for her, 
 or why had she attempted the lyric, discussed the 
 libretto ? It were idle to deny the attraction of the 
 unknown for even the purest woman ! 
 
 And those other friends of Sybil's ! Frank Dickinson, 
 for instance, who talked brilliantly, wrote novels fuU of 
 exotic humour, who had a head Hke a Greek god, a 
 figure like a young athlete, and the ambitions of a 
 Marie CoreUi ! Willoughby Woolley, grey-haired before 
 he was thirty, with Unes about the eyes, and fluent 
 venom on his easy tongue ! Were these better friends 
 for Berenice than himself ? Was it from them he would 
 leave her to choose a more fitting mate ? To go away, 
 to leave her to whatever fate might befall her, did not 
 appear to him so noble a thing to do, when he 
 thought of it, as Sybil had intended that he should, 
 from any point of view but the purely personal one. 
 
 Men would call him an adventurer, a fortune-hunter, 
 if he took advantage of his position as her legal adviser 
 to marry his inexperienced chent. He would suffer in his 
 own self-esteem and conscience, nevertheless, if, for this 
 reason, and for this alone, he left her to what might 
 betide. If Sybil Heseltine carried out her promise — 
 or was it a threat ? — Berenice would be exposed to 
 danger, if not to degradation. He had no illusions about 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYEE 87 
 
 poor Sybil, or the set she gathered around her. Berenice 
 might escape ; in the innermost depths of his heart he 
 thought she would escape, for all the instincts of his lady- 
 love were pure, and wholesome. He thought she was too 
 healthy, in every sense of the word, for morphia, for 
 instance, to be an attraction. But, would he not be 
 evading his responsibihties, those self-assumed responsi- 
 biUties, which to him, at least, had always been so much 
 stronger than any that the world would have credited 
 him with, in leaving her fate to chance. By going abroad 
 he would secure an escape from the imbroglios that 
 threatened him from many quarters, but he would hardly 
 escape the haunting memory of the first woman he had 
 cared for too much to ask her for herself, he would 
 hardly escape the remembrance that he had left her in 
 what he knew to be a perilous position. Young, rich/ 
 beautiful, and Sybil Heseltine her friend ! 
 
 Yet the days, the weeks, went by without bring- 
 ing Hm to a decision. Duns, writs, actual shortage of 
 cash pulled him up when he was on the eve of deciding 
 tlat he and he alone could and would make the happi- 
 ness of Berenice's future. Some Httle well-considered 
 note of Sybil's sent him, now by one, now by another, of 
 her myrmidons, unsettled him when again he had 
 decided that he was not fit to be Berenice's husband. 
 
 Sybil, imderstanding him so well, cognisant of his 
 position, beheving that this marriage would be for his 
 good, sent him httle prods and pin-pricks of suggestion, 
 repeated to him ribald jests she had heard, and wagers 
 that had been made, begged him again and again not 
 to worry about Berenice, assured him that she would 
 carry out her promise to be a friend to Berenice ! 
 
88 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 She made his loyalty to her bleed, she almost turned 
 his comprehension and his pity to repugnance. But 
 she knew what she had to do for him, and she did not 
 flinch! 
 
 Meanwhile, Berenice waited with heart-sinking and 
 fears, with hope and happy expectancy, for the hours 
 that brought, or failed to bring, him to her. He told 
 her in a hundred subtle ways that he cared for her, but 
 he never asked her whether one day she would be his 
 wife. Sometimes she thought he loved her only as a 
 father, as a brother, even as a confidential lawyer ; 
 but, when this was what she thought, she awoke to know 
 she but played the sophist with herself. For he had 
 taught her agony, and ecstasy, and these things are not 
 what one learns from father, brother, friend! His 
 visits and his absences, his demands, his lack of them, 
 tore and tortured her pride. In travail her womanhood 
 was born, and there was none but he could soothe her 
 pain, and bring it to happy chmax and cry. 
 
 The day came when he heard that counsel's opinion 
 had been given in her favour in the matter of her re- 
 maining interest in the business. The news was con- 
 veyed in a letter from Fred Darcy, saying that Messrs. 
 Darcy Bros, had decided not to carry the case any 
 further, but intended to offer her a capital sum in satis- 
 faction of her claim, as soon as they had had time to 
 work out the figures. 
 
 His partner, to whom he passed the letter silently, 
 congratulated him heartily on the result. Indeed, he 
 was conscious of having conducted the whole negotia- 
 tions with abiUty. He knew it was not hkely that any 
 one but himself would have succeeded so expeditiously 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 89 
 
 and well in carrying tkrougli so complicated a matter. 
 He quite realised the magnanimity of Darcy Bros., 
 but it was he who had shown them the way. 
 
 Whether to woo her, or not, whether to wed her, or 
 not, he was still undecided. That the wooing had been 
 going on all the time he hardly reahsed, at least, he had 
 not defined it to himself; but, as her lawyer, his con- 
 science was more than clear. He had been of use to 
 her, the letter proved it ; and he ran with it hghtly 
 upstairs, when he got to Prince's Gate, almost Uke a 
 boy, notwithstanding his forty years and thirteen stone, 
 to tell her of the news. 
 
 He had not dreamed she would not be alone just this 
 one afternoon. For, after all, it was Fred Darcy, and 
 not Sybil Heseltine, who precipitated the crisis, who 
 exasperated him to unconsidered action, who scattered 
 his good or bad resolutions, and made havoc of his plans. 
 He had expected to find her alone ; he had pictured 
 the room, the woman, the hour. The room, with its 
 gilded modern furniture upholstered in red damask, 
 with its ormolu candelabra, console tables, and high 
 mirrors, the 1860 drawing-room, was as he already 
 knew it. 
 
 The woman, too, he had pictured well ; she met 
 all his expectancy. Some weeks since, she had dis- 
 carded, at his desire, the cap and collar, and other 
 insignia of her widowhood. She had a skin that 
 could stand even unreheved black, and it was in 
 black she was this afternoon, just as he had ex- 
 pected, an afternoon gown, flowing and soft, outUned 
 with sable at throat and wrist. She had learnt to dress, 
 since it was for him she arrayed herself. Her head was 
 
90 THE SPHINX'S LAWYBE 
 
 exquisitely set on her slender figure, the firehght brought 
 out the red gleams on her hair. 
 
 She was standing up when he came in ; he saw there 
 was more colour than usual in her cheeks, more fire 
 in her dark eyes; her soft Ups, too, were tremulous. 
 She was evidently in the throes of some emotion ; to 
 him it gave the impression of anger, or indignation, 
 although he hardly knew her capable of either. And 
 in front of the fire, his back to it, in the most character- 
 istic of British attitudes, stood Fred Darcy, intrusive, 
 unnecessary Fred. His face was less readable than 
 Berenice's, but he made it immediately obvious that he 
 resented the unannounced entry of the other, whose 
 greeting he hardly acknowledged. 
 
 " Oh ! I am so glad you have come," she exclaimed. 
 " What a long time you have stayed away ! It is two 
 whole days since I have seen you. I was afraid some- 
 thing had happened to you." 
 
 She was accentuating the warmth of her greeting ! 
 Where was the shyness with which she usually met him, 
 the exquisite tremble and doubt ? 
 
 What had Fred Darcy said to her ? Errington's 
 conscience was not so clear, but that the query flashed 
 at once into his brain. 
 
 " Have you missed me ? I am glad you have missed 
 me." He would not be behind her in warmth. 
 
 He had felt Fred, before this, antagonistic in 
 the background. Well, now he must come out into 
 the open. Welch-Kennard threw down the glove 
 boldly. 
 
 " I am surprised to find you here before me, Mr. Darcy. 
 Have you told her " 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 91 
 
 " I don't believe anything he tells me, I don't believe 
 anything he said," she burst out impulsively. 
 
 She held out both hands to Errington, and he took 
 them. A ghmmer of the truth came to him. ■', 
 
 " And what has he been telling you ? What is it you 
 won't believe, dear child ? " 
 
 " I have no objection to repeating to Mr. Kennard 
 what I have told you," said Fred. " Do you want me 
 to ? Do you want to hear him admit it before you ? 
 I have said nothing I cannot prove. You had better 
 leave us, Berenice, I warn you, you had better leave us. 
 I would prefer to deal with Mr. Welch-Kennard alone." 
 
 To deal with him ! Jusb the phrase Fred would use ! 
 Errington burst out laughing, still holding the girl's 
 hands, stooping to her a Uttle. 
 
 " Do you want to leave us, dear ? Are you afraid to 
 hear what he has to say to me ? " 
 
 " I am not afraid." She looked at him quite steadily. 
 He did not know how much of a woman she had grown 
 since she had learnt to love him. 
 
 " I don't believe anything he has told me, but if it 
 were all true . . ." (How beautiful her colour was, and 
 the Hght in her eyes as she looked at him !) " it would 
 make no difierence. You are my — my friend. Norman 
 always said our friends are themselves, not what we 
 would have them, but our friends always." 
 
 She quoted Norman with a certain dignity, justifying 
 herself thereby. Yet her eyes had an appeal in 
 them. 
 
 He was sorry for her. He stooped and kissed each 
 little hand he held, first one, then another, and sighed ; 
 he was sorry for her. He forgot to be sorry for Fred, he 
 
92 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 drove poor Fred near to desperation as he stood there 
 with her, and kissed her hands, and waited almost without 
 interest to hear what accusations would be brought against 
 him. He knew the world wagged a bitter tongue about 
 him. But it was only with himself he had to reckon. 
 And now he she had heard it, and disbeheved it ! poor 
 child! 
 
 His eyes were soft when he loosed her hands, when he 
 faced Fred. 
 
 " And what have you to say about me, Mr. Darcy ? 
 Have I mismanaged this dear child's affairs ? Is it of 
 the settlement we have arrived at, at last, that you have 
 been complaining to her ? " 
 
 " It was not about the settlement," Fred said, stifHy, 
 " you know that well enough." 
 
 And it had not been. 
 
 In his club-room the night before Fred had heard a 
 story about Errington Welch-Kennard. He had spent 
 the morning verifying it During his inquiries he had 
 heard not one such a story, but many. He had hastened 
 to Prince's Gate with his knowledge ; he had been con- 
 vinced it was only necessary to give Mrs. Norman Darcy 
 a hint that her sohcitor's moral character was not 
 beyond reproach. He had felt sure that she would at 
 once put the whole matter in his hands, that she would 
 desire him to take her papers and business away from 
 Mr. Welch-Kennard, that she would be horrified, and 
 alarmed that she had ever permitted his acquaint- 
 ance. Of course, he did not know, he had not guessed, 
 how far that acquaintance had been carried. Never, 
 except on that one occasion, had he seen them together. 
 He thought of Welch-Kennard only as her lawyer. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYEE 93 
 
 But instead of meeting him with horror at Welch- 
 Kennard's misdeeds, with gratitude for the trouble he 
 had taken in exposing them, she had received his first 
 hint with indignation and exasperating increduHty. 
 When he had persisted, for that he knew was his duty, 
 she had flamed into anger ! He had never seen her so 
 moved. Even from the first moment she had startled 
 him by her attitude. But at first, just for the first 
 moment, he had not suspected the cause. 
 
 By the time she had goaded him into saying : 
 
 " But the man is a blackguard. You ought never to 
 have been allowed to meet him; I can't think how 
 Norman permitted it," she had sufficiently lost her temper 
 to bring all his ruined castles crumbling about his ears. 
 Passionately she exclaimed : 
 
 " I don't beUeve a word against him, I won't hear, 
 or believe, a word against him. I know him better than 
 anybody else does, and I know there is no one hke him. 
 I am glad, I am proud, that he is my friend ! Oh ! yes, 
 I am proud that he is my friend ! " 
 
 She had taken his breath away, and he had not had 
 time to calm himself, amidst the din and dust of that 
 razed castle, before the man himself was in the room, 
 and she had challenged him to bring his accusation. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Darcy, I am waiting," said Welch-Kennard 
 calmly, " what is the charge ? " He did not appear 
 to feel the tension under which the other two were 
 labouring. 
 
 " Mrs. Darcy is my cousin's widow. I am her nearest 
 male relative." 
 
 A patchy red showed in Fred Darcy's sallow cheek ; 
 it was all that showed outwardly of his beating heart. 
 
94 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 and the shock of his slain hopes. Fred did not lack 
 courage, though, perhaps, it had never been highly 
 tried. But, to accuse the other of the things he had heard 
 about him, who faced him there so cool and apparently 
 unconcerned, whilst she stood by with flushed cheek 
 and pride in the man, and unconcealed advocacy, tried 
 both his own strength and courage, in this first hour of 
 his trouble. 
 
 " I thought it my duty to make her aware of what I 
 had heard concerning you," he said, strugghng for his 
 dignity. 
 
 " Concerning me ? " 
 
 " Concerning you ! " 
 
 " Well ! out with it. Let me know what I have to 
 meet. What it is that you have heard 1 " 
 
 " I don't think I should be asked to discuss such things 
 before Mrs. Norman Darcy," he said, doggedly. There 
 was red before his eyes, and their figures were dim. 
 
 " My dear fellow, I understood that was the very thing 
 you were doing when I came in." 
 
 How dare he call him " my dear fellow." Fred's 
 anger got the better of his other emotions. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, I did not tell her, nor did I 
 intend telling her, half of what I had heard. I thought 
 it would be sufiicient for me to let her know men's 
 judgment of you, and of your financial position. I told 
 her there were half a dozen writs out against you, 
 there are bills and acceptances of yours all over London ; 
 she refused to beheve it. I added that your reputation 
 with women was notorious." 
 
 Welch-Kennard remained absolutely cool. He actu- 
 ally put out his hand again, and said to Berenice : 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 95 
 
 " Did it make you unhappy to hear that I was such a 
 villain ? " 
 
 To see her look at him, to see her give him her hand, 
 and keep her hand in his, was too much for Fred's 
 endurance. 
 
 " I told her I heard you had been a professional 
 palmist ! " 
 
 " That was not great news to you, was it — dear ? " 
 
 The way they smiled at each other, in mutual con- 
 fidence, leaving him outside, rubbed off even the thick 
 BaUiol veneer. 
 
 " I have not yet told her that you were responsible 
 for the separation between Mrs. Beethoven and her 
 husband, and that you will be the co-respondent in Sir 
 Wilham Helbert's coming divorce suit." 
 
 Brrington dropped her hand, and spoke quickly. 
 
 " What's that ? Is Helbert going for a divorce ? 
 Surely not ! Surely I should have heard it if they 
 were making me co-respondent ? Come, young noan ! " 
 He came towards him — ^the sense of his size and strength 
 could not but strike Fred. 
 
 " We shall have to have this out. Who gave you that 
 last bit of information ? " 
 
 Fred maintained his ground well, although his hps 
 lost their colour. 
 
 " Perhaps I should not have used the word ' co- 
 respondent,' " he said stiffly. 
 
 " Ah ! I thought there must be some mistake some- 
 where." 
 
 But Fred was not cowed, only taken at a dis- 
 advantage, and by surprise. 
 
 " The difEerence is only in degree," he went on, 
 
96 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Balliol again, and argumentative. " Sir William Hel- 
 bert is a Roman Catholic, and therefore divorce is out of 
 the question with him. But his wife was in Italy with 
 you last summer, and on that account he has turned her 
 out of his home, and deprived her of the custody of 
 her children. It seemed to me my duty " — he was still, 
 he would always be, something of a prig, but he knew, 
 and felt, he was fighting a losing battle, for a lost cause, 
 and that his dreams were all faded, and that what had 
 been best in his life had gone out of it for ever — " it 
 seemed to be my duty, having heard these reports, and 
 verified them, to urge Mrs. Norman Darcy to have nothing 
 more to do with you, to take her affairs out of your hands 
 at once." 
 
 " And to put them into yours ? " 
 
 It was a mean rejoinder. Errington was sorry as soon 
 as he had said it, almost before he had finished saying it. 
 He hurried on : 
 
 " But admit, admit for the sake of argument, Mr. 
 Darcy, that I am in debt, that I have been, or shall be, 
 co-respondent in half a dozen divorce suits, and a 
 professional palmist, admit all your accusations to be 
 justified, do you think the facts prove me any less 
 ef&cient as a lawyer ? " 
 
 " You are not fit to sit down in her presence." 
 
 It was true. 
 
 For a moment his shield went down, and just as he had 
 seen the entreaty in her eyes, so nowshe saw the pain in his. 
 
 " It would make no difference," she said again. 
 " Nothing would make any difference," she repeated, 
 with desperate desire to drive away the pain she saw 
 in his eyes. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 97 
 
 " Sweetheart ! " he said, softly, under his breath ; 
 but he meant her to hear it. It thrilled through her ; 
 she would have died for him. 
 
 Heput up his shield again, he must fight this fellow. For 
 her sake he must not let Fred Darcy go away and think he 
 had been afraid to face him, and all he might have to say. 
 
 The fellow should say it, and then go. He and 
 Berenice would be alone. 
 
 She had said it would make no difference ! He would 
 tell her all, everything, then she should decide. The 
 very thought that it was she who must decide stirred 
 his blood hke wine. To-day, this afternoon, soon, he 
 would tell her everything ; then from her he would 
 accept his destiny, whether to go or stay. What would 
 matter to him anything the world said of him, if she 
 wanted him to stay ? She was not a child, but a 
 woman, and her own future and his he would put into 
 her hands. He was exhilarated, Uphfted, he could go 
 on now, he was almost arrogant now. 
 
 " Go on," he said, " go on ; I am not fit to sit down 
 in her presence ! I admit that — no man of the world 
 is fit to sit, as an equal, in the presence of a good woman. 
 But what next ? Is that all, or have you anything 
 further to bring against me ? " 
 
 " At this very moment there is an opera singer by the 
 name of Lorna " 
 
 " Why don't you get your facts right, man ? The 
 lady's pseudonym is 'Norma,' " he answered quickly, 
 contemptuously. " Let him get through, and go," was 
 aU that was in Errington's mind now. What mattered 
 what the fellow said ? He would tell Berenice himself 
 everything, then let her choose. 
 
 G 
 
98 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " She is living under your protection." 
 
 '■ No more than she is under yours ! Anything 
 else ? " 
 
 " Get on, get on," he was saying under his breath. 
 He would tell her all, everything ! In an hour he 
 would know what she would say to him, how she would 
 take it, as soon as Fred had finished, and gone. What 
 a prig the feUow was ! What an ass ! 
 
 " You tried to get Algernon Heseltine out of the 
 country," continued Fred, doggedly. 
 
 Now they were coming to closer quarters ; this was 
 the point, this would always be the point. 
 
 " True, I did. I admit it. I tried to save the news- 
 papers all that garbage, and the country from con- 
 victing as a common felon one of the most brilhant 
 scholars of the day, one of the finest intellects, mis- 
 guided, doubtless, an evil influence, I allow, but a genius, 
 notwithstanding. I should have been proud to have 
 saved, not him, but England, from the disgrace of mur- 
 dering in gaol, along with the lowest malefactors, a 
 poor moral invahd, leper, if you will, but one needing a 
 hospital, not a prison. Yes ; it is true, I tried to get 
 Algernon Heseltine away. I wish to God I had suc- 
 ceeded." 
 
 " And ever since then you have been pursuing your 
 liaison with his wife- " 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 It took a moment for him to reahse what had been 
 said. Then Errington's eyes blazed in his paled face. 
 
 " You — you blackguard ! " 
 
 He made a step forward, he seized hold of him. For a 
 moment Errington could see nothing but poor Sybil's 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 99 
 
 suffering face on the pillow, he was carried away by the 
 rush of memories that her husband's name evoked. 
 Here, at least, there was nothing of which he need be 
 ashamed. " God ! " he cried, " to think that you should 
 take her name upon your Hps ! You — you worm ; apolo- 
 gise, damn you, apologise. Do you hear what I say ? " 
 He shook him till the veins in his forehead swelled. 
 
 Berenice was terrified for Fred. How big her lover 
 was, how strong, how brave ! She came between the 
 two men, putting a trembhng hand on Errington's coat- 
 sleeve. 
 
 " Let him go, let him go," she faltered. " He did 
 not mean it. He is only angry because I— I defended 
 you, he does not know." 
 
 It had not been Welch-Kennard's way to lose his 
 temper when there was a woman beside him. This one, 
 with her frightened eyes and her halting words, all 
 tremulous, brought him back to himself. 
 
 " I beg your pardon." 
 
 He released Fred. 
 
 " Forgive me, child, forgive me." 
 
 Any attack upon himseK would not have moved 
 him ; but an attack upon Sybil, that martyr, that poor 
 crucified woman, dying now, and brave, had unnerved 
 him. 
 
 " You don't know what she has gone through," he 
 said, huskily. It was to Berenice he was excusing liim- 
 self, not to Fred. 
 
 " I do know, at least, I ca.n guess," she cried. " Fred, 
 Sybil Heseltine is paralysed, she is a terrible invahd ; 
 anybody who has told you anything cruel about her, 
 or — or Mr. Kennard, cannot know her. She suffers all 
 
100 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 the time, and so bravely ! She never speaks of it even, 
 but laughs, and pretends she is quite well." 
 
 Her heart went out to her lover, who was so true a 
 friend to this poor sufferer. What a man he was, 
 generous and loyal and true ! Indeed, she might be 
 proud of his friendship. 
 
 " Oh ! I am sorry, sorry." She went to him where he 
 stood, with his back to Fred, recovering himself. 
 
 " I am sorry he hurt you about poor Sybil," she 
 said. 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, child." His voice was still 
 husky, and he had to walk to the window to hide his 
 eyes. SybU Heseltine had suffered, few but he knew 
 how greatly. 
 
 '' Get rid of him," he said presently, indicating Fred, 
 " get rid of him. We must have all this out, you and I, 
 just you and I." 
 
 She yearned to tell him what she thought of him, to 
 comfort him, to be alone with him. Whatever had 
 stood between them, nothing could stand now. 
 
 " Go, Fred, go," she entreated. Yes ; they must be 
 alone ! 
 
 " I know you did not mean to be cruel. Some one 
 has been telling you lies ; if everything you have heard 
 is as true as that about Sybil Heseltine, poor Sybil, 
 it is wicked, wicked of them. She is paralysed." 
 
 " It is not only what I have heard about her," he said, 
 sullenly. " I have seen Sir WiUiam Helbert, he showed 
 me letters to his wife from this man, disgraceful letters." 
 
 She shuddered away from him. 
 
 " Horrible and — treacherous. I don't want to hear 
 about it. Go, Fred, go." 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 101 
 
 " You — you order me out of the house ? Out 
 of Norman's house ? You refuse to make any in- 
 quiries ? " 
 
 The truth, as it burst from her hps, struck both the 
 men who heard it. 
 
 " It would make no difierence," she said. " If every- 
 thing you have told me were true, it woidd make no 
 difference between us, between him and me." 
 
 He had said " sweetheart " to her, he had defended 
 his friend. Her heart was hquid, and ran to him, her 
 eyes, too, were swimming. A silence followed her words. 
 She was suddenly shaken by the words she had spoken, 
 with the realisation of them. Nothing would make any 
 difference, nothing. For her, there was only one man 
 in the world. 
 
 For a moment or two after the door had closed on 
 Fred, Errington stood silent. Then he went over to 
 her, where she had sunk down on the sofa, hiding her 
 eyes, her crimson cheeks. 
 
 " Would it make no difference ? " he asked, softly. 
 " Would nothing make a difference ? " he asked, 
 kneehng by her side. " Nothing ? Answer me, don't 
 keep me in suspense. Darling ! " He forced her hands 
 from her face, and made her look at him. " Answer, 
 answer me." 
 
 " Not — not if you want me." 
 
 " Want you ? If you only knew ? Will you have 
 me for your husband, dear, me, all stained and 
 tired ? Is that how you love me ? Do you love me, 
 Berenice ? " 
 
 She wanted only the shelter of his breast, of his 
 encircling arms, she was suddenly shy of what she must 
 
102 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 tell him. He let her hide her face now, against his 
 shoulder. And, holding her so, again his conscience 
 shook him, clamorous doubt made desperate his appeal. 
 
 " Child, child, don't be glad, don't be happy." His 
 voice was shaken, he was shaken. "It is not a good 
 thing for you. Think! I am years older than you, and 
 poor, in debt, too, with miUstones round my neck. 
 Think ! " 
 
 " Oh ! I am glad I may ; I am so glad I may " 
 
 " What are you glad of, my sweet ? " 
 
 " That I may care, as much as I hke. I am glad 
 you are poor, and — and have troubles that I may 
 hghten, and — that you want me," she whispered. 
 
 He knew that it was unfair. He had no illusions. 
 His hfe had been full of tawdry emotions, cheap loves; 
 he had trafficked in stolen kisses. He had nothing left 
 for the one woman ; but he desired her passionately. 
 If she could condone the past, the future should hold 
 nothing but his devotion to her. That is what he told 
 her, that is what he told himself. 
 
 " I have nothing for you but my love." 
 
 The words came haltingly from him, that he had 
 nothing for her but the shelter of his arms, his half- 
 tired arms, his hps that had been staled before he met 
 her. 
 
 " But you are giving me everything, everything. I 
 had nothing before I met you. I want only to be allowed 
 to care for you. Oh ! I was glad in aU Fred said ; it 
 brought you nearer to me, made it more possible. I 
 had been frightened before, often, always. It was too 
 good to be true that such a man as you could care for 
 me. I am so ignorant, so ... so unworthy. I know 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 103 
 
 what you have been to Sybil, to other people. I know, 
 without any one telUng me, what you are." 
 
 She freed herself painfully from her garment of shy- 
 ness. She would give herself to him utterly. Since he 
 was humble and said he was unworthy of her, she would 
 let him see she knew she was not fit mate for him, that 
 she recognised his greatness. 
 
 " If it is only me you want," she said, " I am proud. 
 If what Fred said be true, that you are poor, I am so 
 glad I can help. Dear, I am so glad, If it be true — 
 about — about these poor women, we will do something 
 for them. Oh ! how unhappy they must be, because 
 you don't care for them." 
 
 He meant to tell her everything, but such confi- 
 dences have their elhpses. 
 
 She learnt he was in debt, she had to guess to what 
 he owed his embarrassments. How could he teU her 
 how he had wasted his substance ? She read into 
 the broken confession, punctuated with love speeches, 
 which he insisted upon making before he would let her 
 promise herself to him, that women had come to him, 
 or been sent to him, because they were in trouble ; 
 that their troubles had moved his tenderness, that 
 his tenderness had aroused their passions, and he had 
 crowned their poor giving, the gift of themselves which 
 they had forced upon him, with baubles and luxuries, 
 and pleasures ; that, to get out of the debt, which was no 
 debt, he had lavished dress and jewellery and travel, 
 and the great dower of his friendship. 
 
 She was so proud that he came to her differently. 
 Disentangling the bundle of weft he gave her, aU con- 
 fused, by the magic hght^ofr'her^love^f or him, she saw that 
 
104 THE SPHINX'S LAWYEE 
 
 this woman had come to him to find reKef from a dninken 
 husband, and that from an austere one. It was Sam 
 Beethoven's half -maniac temper, his violence, that made 
 his wife seek for help ; it was the narrow insincerity of 
 her husband's church that had driven unhappy Lady 
 Helbert from a house of little altars and graven images, 
 where she was always the sacrifice, and he was always 
 the saint, and the intervention of the priest between 
 herself and her babies had made implacable the passion 
 of her resentment. 
 
 And Norma, too — he could not even stand self- 
 condemned where Norma was concerned, a "bay where 
 all men might ride." 
 
 He thought he was telling her everything ; but it 
 was not in him for long to play the humble lover, to 
 reject the sweet balm she offered. He had told her 
 his arms were tired, but presently he showed her they 
 were strong. He had said his hps were staled, but 
 presently he showed her they were exacting. 
 
 Then, when he asked her if she was still not frightened, 
 if she stiU did not think she had better give him up, and 
 marry Fred, whether she was not too young, too much 
 of a child, to reform a prodigal, she had answered 
 out of her ignorance, and the clamour of her beating 
 heart, that she did not want him reformed, she did not 
 want him different. 
 
 That was the crux of it, and to him the crown. Know- 
 ing no better, she did not want him other than he was, 
 weak where his heart was touched, impulsive always, 
 with a man's appetites. She said she understood that 
 at that office in Southampton Street other women in 
 trouble „would come to him, other temptations. She 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 105 
 
 promised she would always trust him, she would never 
 be jealous of him. It would be her pride to be his wife, 
 to wear his name, to have, and deserve, his confidence. 
 
 " Dear, I know how many people have come to you, 
 will always come to you, because you are the Sphinx's 
 lawyer." 
 
 " Ah ! the Sphinx ? " 
 
 He questioned her frank eyes. No ! Fred's words 
 had not touched her loyalty to her strange friend, the 
 friend who had given them to each other. She read the 
 question, and answered it smiling, blushing a httle, 
 very happy. 
 
 " WiU you teU her ? " 
 
 " At once, to-night. This is the anniversary of the 
 day Algernon Heseltine came out of prison, broken, 
 insane, dying. The Chinese could have made him 
 undergo no worse torture than they practised on him 
 in our Bnghsh prison. The lamp of his genius was still 
 burning when he went in. They starved and beat him, 
 because he was a leper. For that, they took away from 
 him the Kght of day, his books, his pens, they stole from 
 him his power to think. They set him to break stones ! 
 Algernon, whose body may have been leprous, but whose 
 soul was ahve. When I remember it, there is nothing I 
 would not do for her, or for any of them. You wiU 
 always have that to forgive me. Fred would not tell 
 you before me, but I tell you. Because he was a leper, 
 every one who touched him was suspect ; and I amongst 
 them. But we wanted to heal him, you must beheve 
 that was aU. It was the way he was tortured, in the 
 end, the way he stood at bay, knowing that there was 
 something immortal in him, that moved us so. " 
 
106 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Already he had forgotten his new-found happiness, 
 the new Kfe that was before him. The experiences of 
 his past hfe, as they affected Algernon Heseltine, had 
 gone so deep, that nothing could ever near his depths 
 without bruising, too, the tenderness which the sight 
 of the other's agony had caused. 
 
 Now, as he walked up and down that atrocious 
 drawing-room, all his moved heart and spirit were full 
 of the things that had made him what he was. She 
 understood nothing, but watched him, and wished, 
 hoped, longed, to be one with him in this. As his 
 memories outflooded his speech, she questioned him 
 timidly. 
 
 " He was your friend, I know, and there must have 
 been something great in him. Sybil lent me a volume 
 of his essays once. I don't know what was his crime. 
 But I know he was put in prison, and every stone 
 he broke by day became his heart at night. And she 
 wanted to be beside him when he was tried, but the 
 paralysis overtook her, and he never knew, and nobody 
 ever knew, that she would have stood by him. And she 
 loved him." 
 
 His speech had been flooded by his remembrance ; but, 
 back in the past as he was, he stopped her then. 
 
 " No, no ! She did not love him, she never loved 
 him. First his genius amazed, then it won, her. It 
 was only the passion of her pity, and the passion of her 
 helplessness, that made her what she became. We were 
 all moved by it ahke ; and in revolt of law. I see the 
 foUy of it now, but you cannot imagine ..." 
 
 Then his eyes met hers, and he knew she could not 
 imagine. He grew reckless over the difference and 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 107 
 
 distance that lay between them, and took her to his 
 arms, and kissed away explanation and argument, becom- 
 ing the merely exuberant and emotional lover. She 
 was aU he had ever dreamed of, or wanted. The past 
 was dead and must be thrust behind. Before him was 
 happiness and the normal, and so it should be. 
 
 If he gave himself his head too freely, if she grew a 
 little fearful as the afternoon darkened into evening, it 
 was an exquisite fear with which she thrilled. He led 
 her to the highest note in the gamut of expectation. He 
 forced her to promise him she would not withhold her- 
 self from him longer than a few days. He made her 
 shyness melt in his arms, he promised her the crown of 
 womanhood. 
 
 Before he left her, she knew nothing except that she 
 belonged to him, and that the few days he had given her 
 were too many. 
 
 But, when he tore himself away from her, a great wave 
 of depression met him, even as her street-door was 
 opened. He had played the free man. Yet this was 
 the anniversary of the night Algernon had come out 
 of prison, and he was due at Hans Crescent. They made 
 it a Walpuigis night, this anniversary ; if, at the heart of 
 it was pity, it was, nevertheless, riot, and his days of 
 riot were over. 
 
 Berenice and the Sphinx ! How could he ever recon- 
 cile their claims ? 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 Bowling along in a swift hansom, first to his rooms, then 
 to dinner, lastly to Hans Crescent, it was, nevertheless, 
 not Berenice who fiUed that strange mind of his, that 
 soft heart ; it was Algernon. His mind was full of that 
 maniacal genius, who had not fled from a burning city, 
 but had pulled it down upon himself, and stayed gazing, 
 with the wonder of a startled, unbeheving child, when 
 it crushed about his ears. 
 
 Who could respect man's justice, judgment, mercy, 
 when one marked what followed ? How his friends ran 
 from him, and his enemies hooted, and the herd flung 
 mud and jeered at that colossal fallen figure. The few 
 who stayed beside him were marked men, and mercy was 
 as bhnd as justice. 
 
 Errington remembered, as the panorama of the streets 
 sank and shifted before the windows of the cab, and the 
 haunting figures in the market-place of Piccadilly, lured 
 with satyr faces, and ofiered unashamed and imrebuked 
 their poisoned wares, that the hypocrite wave of virtue 
 under which Algernon had been submerged missed every- 
 thing but him. There was no crime but his crime ; 
 and his name was anathema maranatha. 
 
 Yet the man had been mad. " Great wit to mad- 
 ness often is allied. " He might have been placed in safety, 
 kept from spreading his disease, from working evil. But 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 109 
 
 Justice was blind and Pity was dead, and common sense 
 was in abeyance. Yesterday tbey hailed him a genius, 
 to-day they declared him vile beyond human sympathy. 
 
 The dastardly unintelhgence of the penal code thrilled 
 Kennard to-night as it had thrilled him then. 
 
 The fire of his own genius had burnt Algernon's youth. 
 The hght that blazed about him obscured for him the 
 minor rules of meaner men. He saw more largely, amaz- 
 ing visions thronged, all sense of proportion became lost. 
 He was not as others. He felt that, and at first the 
 dazzled world which his personahty fascinated saw it 
 too, and applauded. When the applause changed to low 
 suspicious muttering, he became more flamboyant; he 
 was supremely conscious of his gifts. 
 
 The end was not swift, yet it was upon him before 
 he knew. He stood before his accusers in the dock, 
 as a child might have stood, impudent, bewildered, ir- 
 responsible. Those for whom he and his ailments held no 
 meaning found him guilty, and sentenced him to a terrible 
 end. He was as a sick child, morally, mentally, physically, 
 dazed, and f aihng. To cure him, the law, man's cruelty 
 to man, decreed that he should be alone with his 
 changing, bewildered self for hour after crushing 
 hour. To strengthen him in his weakness they gave 
 him burnt skilly, and, when the health had all gone 
 out of him, two planks and a wooden pillow were 
 flung to him, so that he might not rest. In time his 
 marvellous mind raised him a httle from his hopeless- 
 ness, and he asked for books. He had loved hterature, 
 and contributed to it. They gave him tracts, which 
 the prison parson had written, so that his brain, no 
 less than his body, should starve. 
 
110 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Whatever his crimes, that he had loved the air, the 
 sun, God's sky, the flowers and grass, was , at least, not 
 crime. Penned in four whitewashed walls, high up, an 
 inaccessible slit showed other prison walls beyond. 
 This was what they did for his spirituahsing. For 
 his fine hands, which had penned epic and philosophy, 
 poem, and drama, there were bundles of tarred oakum. 
 When he failed over his task there was darkness, more 
 appaUing soHtude, less food, stripes. It ought to be 
 incredible, but the whole bare truth is beyond it. The 
 personal degradation to which this man of genius was 
 subjected, the outrages to his ghmmering sense and djdng 
 manhood, made a martyr of him to those who knew. 
 
 When his punishment, or society's revenge, had come 
 to an end, he was let out. Errington waited for him in 
 the Governor's room, and the Sphinx, with a rare few 
 of those who had been faithful to him, waited for him, 
 the table spread for breakfast, at that pubhc-house near 
 the prison gate. 
 
 It was a man that had gone to gaol ; it was scarcely 
 a man they let out from it. 
 
 It was impossible to tell, the years had never dimmed 
 the remembrance, how he had appeared to them after 
 his torture was ended, the rack unscrewed, his marred 
 body released. At first he had clutched with both hands 
 at the remnant of his lost manhood which their presence 
 evoked. He had held his head erect, and welcomed them 
 as if he were once more their host ; how gracious were 
 his words to each, how brave was his bearing! Then 
 came his sudden ravening at the food before him; 
 and they saw soon the haunted, hmited look steal 
 into his grey eyes, the start of fear when the door 
 opened, the poor flush of shame which followed it. At 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 111 
 
 last, came the break-down, Ms head in his hands, and the 
 sound of his sobs in the room. 
 
 " I was face to face with myself all day, aU night, that 
 hideous, tedious, pitiful me. God ! the things that 
 crawled, and stung — pitiful, pitiful, pitiful." He was 
 as a child again, dulled with long crying, blinded with 
 pain of brutal punishment, his mere mechanical breath- 
 ing stale with sobbing. " They tortured me," he spread 
 out his misshapen hands, which had been so fine, now 
 all the nails were blunt and bleeding, " they starved 
 me. And in my ears all day and night I heard the cries 
 of other starving, tortured men — and children. I could 
 not think ; I h<»ard nothing but human cries, I shall 
 never hear anything else. I've lost my soul's inheritance, 
 I've Uved two years among the damned. My eyes 
 burned and smarted and failed from those whitewashed 
 walls, that skyless window. My eyes were on fire, and 
 my ears were filled with the sound of men crying, and I 
 could not think — the awful — awful sohtude, that felon, 
 crouching, haunted figure — me ! God ! " 
 
 They tried to comfort him, but he was past comfort, 
 hope, or help. His two years of sohtude and semi- 
 starvation had robbed him of the last least vestige 
 of his self-respect; now the degradation had defiled 
 his spirit. 
 
 Errington could not forget, and none of them could 
 forget. Every year they met and told each other so. 
 Algernon should not lose his soul's inheritance ; they would 
 keep his lamp aUght. They had vowed it passionately. 
 
 And for all of them, after this, there was neither law 
 nor justice in the land. Only an unutterable hypocrisy, 
 and another crucifixion. 
 
 Errington Welch-Kennard, with his heart, his brain 
 
112 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 and Ids conscience at war with each other, had lived 
 through this period. Perhaps, had it not been for the 
 Sphinx, he would have emerged from it. 
 
 Could he tell her now that he had no longer any part in 
 her Kfe's tragedy ? He knew that he could never tell her. 
 He was in love with that innocent, ignorant sweet girl- 
 woman, and youth was Uke a vernal Spring about him ; 
 only this desperate past was as a blighting chill in the 
 air, and it was from the Sphinx it blew. 
 
 He arrived late at Hans Crescent. The pitiful, mock 
 festival was in full swing when he arrived. They sat 
 at the round table in the dining-room, all the men who 
 had met Algernon when he came out of gaol, and many 
 who had never known him. His bust was in the centre 
 of the table, with a fresh laurel wreath crowning it. His 
 books, his poems and plays, veUum-bound, were placed 
 as a votive offering before it ; and these, too, had their 
 sprig of laurel. But it was not a funeral feast they were 
 holding, it was an orgy, a Bacchanalian revel. The 
 scheme had always been to assume that Algernon was 
 still with them, the Sphinx being his mouthpiece. 
 
 The inverted morahty, the houlecersement of accepted 
 thought, the ridicule of pharisaism, which had been in 
 Algernon's armoury, were in hers too. It was not 
 " evil be thou my good " that they preached, but the 
 dangerous thesis that there was neither evil nor good, 
 but only Philistinism or Freedom, from which to choose. 
 
 The wine had gone round at least as freely as the wit. 
 Many of Algernon's friends, some remotely, some inti- 
 mately, acquainted with him, were here, and all of them 
 were wreckage. But it was wreckage that glittered 
 brilliantly against the murk and cloud of that stormy 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 113 
 
 past. There was fine blasphemous talk with reminis- 
 cence, and an effect of blue lightning played fantastically 
 about the ruins. 
 
 Kennard, with his heart so full of pity, grew sick as he 
 listened. When Frank Dickinson read his poem De 
 Imitatione Hermaphroditi, and incorporated into the 
 immemorial echo of its subtlety the latest intrigue of 
 the most recent Benedict and his Hero, the cleverness 
 of the parody seemed less than its vulgarity, and Keimard 
 could not join in the laughter or applause. When Lord 
 Belville held the floor with the Epic of the Knightsbridge 
 Barracks, the hilt and swing of the verse were unable 
 to cloak for him the ugUness of its suggestiveness. 
 Brooking' s stanzas from his opera were mere meaning- 
 less indecency. 
 
 But, worst of all, it seemed to Errington Welch- 
 Kennard in his new altered mood, were the presence and 
 the initiation of the new recruits. The ceremonies 
 were over before he arrived, and the boys, — there were 
 four or five of them in the places of honour about the 
 Sphinx, — were aU more or less intoxicated, with strange 
 lights in their eyes, shocked faces trying to look caUous, 
 weak ones flushed and hiding a gross bewilderment. 
 
 One of these lads was a son of General Sir Algernon 
 du Gore. Kennard had met him several times lately 
 at Hans Crescent, and never without a certain regret, 
 distaste, remorse. Eor the boy, he was Httle more than a 
 bov, was reaUy one of the Sphinx's victims. Six months 
 ago he was a fresh-coloured, apparently ingenuous, lad. 
 Now he was haggard, with puffed fids and tremulous 
 hands ; it seemed as if corruption had fastened on him. 
 When he was called upon he hiccoughed that he was 
 
 H 
 
114 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 no poet. But, swayed by the ironic cheers and plaudits 
 of the others, he began to pour out a half-incoherent 
 attack on law and order and authority. It appeared 
 that there was only one god, and its name was Anarchy. 
 Incidentally, one gathered the boy had had some trouble 
 with the regimental authorities, had sent in his papers, 
 and meant to devote the rest of his Ufe to the service of 
 the Sphinx. His speech was not touched with the 
 talent that had illumined the others ; it was mere 
 rhodomontade and bathos. Yet no one received more 
 applause, more encouragement, from their hostess. 
 This, too, Kermard resented. He knew why she 
 took especial pleasure in this lad's depravity and its 
 exhibition. 
 
 Sir Algernon du Gore had been her husband's god- 
 father, but he had not stood up for him, nor supported 
 him, in his need. Sir Algernon was in Egypt, but his 
 son, Kenneth, was here ; and Sybil had sought him out 
 and turned all his weaknesses to vice, with unhappy, 
 almost imimediate, success. To-night she had made him 
 leader of the novices. 
 
 In due time Errington's aloofness, the want of spirit 
 in his responses, the want of sympathy in his attitude, 
 drew the attention of the Sphinx. He was called upon 
 to speak and at first refused, keeping his seat, and 
 merely shaking his head negatively. He ended by 
 rising reluctantly and standing for a moment or two, 
 glass in hand, unusually unready and hesitating. Sybil 
 suggested a subject to him. 
 
 " We have heard something of Benedict, Errington. 
 Give us Benedict, the married man ; " she smiled at him, 
 a little cruelly. But Sybil grew cruel only when in pain^ 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 115 
 
 and there was understanding, not resentment, in the 
 glance he gave her in reply. 
 
 " A new experience has come into my own Ufe to-day," 
 he began slowly, " and its primary effect is to make me 
 doubt " 
 
 They would not let him go on ; the word doubt 
 was one they could not hear. Sybil had given them 
 some hint of what they might expect from Kennard. 
 He had always been amongst them, but scarcely of 
 them. They were prompt to meet him with jeers. 
 They would drink to him, through the fumes of wine 
 and smoke, in the atmosphere of ribald jest and laughter, 
 they would toast him, predict his future, but they would 
 not hsten to him. He had the gift of eloquence, but 
 to-night it deserted him, he knew he might have made 
 them hear him, but he hardly knew what to say to them. 
 He stood up silently while hstening to the badinage, 
 not stemming it, because, not caught by it, he remained 
 stiU outside. He was satisfied to sit down presently, 
 having said nothing. 
 
 He got away as soon as he was able, hating all the 
 past, full of misgivings of all the future. 
 
 The next few days he spent in trying to reconcile 
 himself and settle down in his new role. He was 
 affianced to the only woman he had ever wished to 
 make his wife. He knew he ought to wipe out the record 
 of his hf e, and make new history with her. That Alger- 
 non and Sybil Heseltine were indehbly there must not 
 prevent him covering it with new writing, clear and clean. 
 He assured himself so often that Berenice was the " one 
 great passion of his hfe," that he made others beUeve 
 it, almost at the same time as he began to doubt it. In 
 
116 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 any case, he would be her husband, and the honeymoon 
 was before him. 
 
 It was marvellous how his debts and difficulties had 
 melted away when it became known that he was going 
 to marry Norman Darcy's widow. Edward Carker, 
 his family and relatives, no less than his creditors and 
 impatient duns, seemed suddenly to have found they 
 had been harsh, unfair, and were now anxious to 
 kill the fatted calf, to welcome and congratulate him 
 on his return to the fold. He was curiously happy 
 and impatient, and bored by the way everything was 
 made easy for him. The difference between the new 
 life he was entering, and the old one he was lea\ing 
 behind, was responsible for his distraction. Could 
 he forsake, neglect, keep his wife from, the Sphinx, from 
 the Hans Crescent coterie ? Could he take her, did 
 he wish to take her, into the midst of it ? 
 
 Every day he became more fully, more definitely, 
 conscious of Berenice's simple goodness. He was 
 imdoubtedly in love with her, and all she represented. 
 That he missed the difficulties to which he had always 
 been accustomed, the charm of intrigue, was too obvious 
 to admit. 
 
 He had become used, too, to Sybil's companionship, 
 sympathy, understanding. After the supper-party he 
 tried to do without it, but he missed it no less than she 
 would have missed her drug. He was often full of doubt. 
 He was not more content with himself and his circum- 
 Btances because the Sphinx's door was closed against 
 him, because he had only himself to argue with as to 
 his doubts. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 117 
 
 Prince's Gate was alieady in the hands of the deco- 
 rators, and the wedding-day was fixed. Every day 
 he became more aware of the beauties of his fiancee's 
 nature and disposition. And every day he felt, 
 nevertheless, that the Sphinx had her own inahenable 
 claim upon him ; the years and her grief had riveted 
 it. He knew instinctively that there might come a 
 day when the two claims might conflict, hers and 
 Berenice's. That was where he doubted himself. 
 
 In his indecision, his sweet strange intercourse with 
 Berenice, his interviews with decorators and furnishing 
 firms, his discussions and settlements with creditors 
 and claims, his constant preparation, the days and 
 weeks shd so quickly by, that he was ■ on the eve of his 
 wedding-day before he had reahsed his responsibihties, 
 or decided how to reconcile them. He would be rich, 
 free, respectable, received, a Philistine of the PhiHstines. 
 Aunts and cousins, whom he had not seen for years, were 
 lavishing presents and congratulations. He was no longer 
 the black sheep of that ultra-correct flock, his fleece 
 had regained its whiteness. And he knew the possi- 
 bihties of surfeit on that fat pasture where white 
 sheep browse. 
 
 Berenice missed nothing of warmth when he drove 
 her home, kissed her good-night, whispered in her ear 
 how few more nights of separation there would be. 
 But his own soul was a httle sick within him. Was he 
 fit for this domestic idyll preparing for him ? Was he 
 already missing something ? 
 
 That the past never dies, that the mortgage placed 
 by conduct, even by circumstance, upon character, is 
 
118 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 one that can never be entirely paid off, was the trmsm 
 that his brain could not reject. 
 
 The Sphinx's wedding present, Algernon's manu- 
 script, the unpubhshed, never to be pubhshed, blas- 
 phemy, " And they Crucified Him," did not help him to 
 forgetfulness. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 Ekrington swept out Ms corners as well as he was able. 
 There was nothing so desperate in his financial affairs 
 that prevented their easy adjustment under his new 
 circumstances. It was no longer important to keep 
 certain bills or matters from his partner's ears, and, 
 when the necessity for secrecy had gone, the arrange- 
 ment with his creditors was merely child's play. 
 Other matters, too, became easier with his easier circum- 
 stances. Norma was persuaded by her impresario to 
 a tour in America. Elsa Beethoven returned to her 
 husband with an even greater independence than she 
 had enjoyed before. Sir Wilham Helbert found himself 
 without the witnesses on whom he had rehed for his 
 deed of separation, and, in the strictest equity, renounced 
 his suit. 
 
 There seemed httle cloud on the future of Errington 
 and his wife when they started on their honeymoon 
 trip to Italy. 
 
 Sybil had been satirical, difficult to understand, when 
 Berenice had bidden her good-bye. 
 
 " No ! No ! I won't come to your wedding. It is 
 very touching of you and Errington to wish it, and I 
 am sure the pubhc would be much impressed at the 
 spectacle of my bath-chair. But I must disappoint 
 them. I'm having a breakfast party here, I think it 
 
120 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 will be more congenial to me. Tell Errington we shall 
 be thinking of him, talking of him. He wiU hke to 
 hear that. And send him to me directly you get back 
 from your honeymoon. You mustn't keep him from 
 me. Promise me that you'll never try to keep her 
 lawyer from the Sphinx." 
 
 " Never ! Never ! I promise. I will never keep 
 Errington from you," Berenice said, " your claim on him 
 must ever come before mine." She would have stooped 
 to kiss Sybil ; it was so sad to see the traces of her suffering, 
 so desperately sad to think of all she had gone through, 
 of the hopelessness of past and present. But her sweet 
 sympathy exasperated Sybil into more cynical speech. 
 
 " I hate to be mauled about. Do keep off, there's a 
 dear child. So, you will control all Kennard's days 
 and hours, and dole him out to me occasionally ? It is 
 too amiable of you. Poor Errington, in his gilded cage ! 
 Don't forget the sugar between the bars. What will 
 you do when he finds the door inadvertently open, and 
 essays a httle flight ? Will you shut the door against 
 him, or let him in, and bar it closer another time ? 
 I wonder ! There ! go now, go and be happy in your 
 beautiftd honeymoon. He is so experienced, it is 
 bound to be a beautiful honeymoon. Will he invent 
 or remember ? Either way, you will be in luck, he 
 is reaUy great, you know. No ! you don't know, you 
 child. And you wouldn't understand if you did know. 
 Go away, your innocent absurd eyes are making me 
 feel iU. And the tears in them are insulting. Go." 
 
 Berenice resented nothing. Her own exquisite happi- 
 ness was in such appalling contrast to the other's terrible 
 life-ending. She told Errington afterwards : 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 121 
 
 " I could well imderstand her feeling so bitter, 
 so desperate. Poor Sybil ! she has had such awful 
 things to bear, such unbearable things. I do not 
 see everything yet quite in your way, and hers — • 
 that there ought not to be any imprisonment, that 
 punishment is savagery. But, to have a husband. . . ." 
 At that she blushed and looked at him with tender 
 shyness, for he would so soon be that to her, with all 
 reservations between them at an end. " And to know 
 him suffering, cruelly treated, not to be able to write him 
 tenderly, be near him, comfort him ! No wonder she has 
 grown hard. I can't quite understand what would happen 
 if there were no punishments, no imprisonments. But 
 that is because, of course, I am not as clever as either of 
 you. But that it ought to elevate instead of degrade, 
 that punishment ought to make, and not irretrievably 
 ruin, a citizen, I know, because I have heard Norman 
 say it so often. Although he had no time to make a 
 specialty of it, he hated the criminal law." 
 
 But, with those red hps and bright eyes so near him, 
 
 Errington could not discuss the Heseltines. He changed 
 
 the conversation. He was grateful to Sybil for what 
 
 she had left unsaid. She had not sent for him since 
 
 the commemoration night. Her wedding present was 
 
 characteristic, but she had meant nothing unkind 
 
 by it- 
 
 Finally, he started on his wedding journey in veritable 
 
 honeymoon spirit, for that was the nature of the man. 
 
 He flung off all that oppressed and depressed him, 
 
 for Berenice grew daily fairer in her happiness, and he set 
 
 himself to make the time memorable for his young wife, 
 
 as, indeed, it was unique for him. 
 
122 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Perhaps one need not pity Berenice Darcy for any 
 disillusionment, any disappointment, that came to 
 her. She had, what few men or women are fortunate 
 enough to know, a perfect, absolutely happy, six weeks. 
 The quahties that make a man a successful lover are, 
 perhaps, not those that pertain to the domesticated 
 husband ; but they are good honeymoon quahties, 
 nevertheless. ErrLngton had tact, experience, and the 
 self-restraint without which neither would have been 
 valuable to him. He easily found the hmits of his 
 young wife's capacities, and it interested him, at first, 
 to endeavour to enlarge their borders. He had to 
 open, first, her eyes, and then, her mind, to teach her to 
 see, then to understand, to feel ; then he explained the 
 formulae of feeling. When he had aroused her depths 
 he gave her the poets, teaching her to read, as he had 
 taught her to see and feel. Soon the whole world 
 filled with beauty for her, which glowed and illumined 
 the imiverse. Everywhere it seemed there were words 
 to fit it, in Itahan, in Spanish, in French, and in Enghsh. 
 Errington knew all these languages, could translate to 
 her from Boccaccio, no less than from de Musset. 
 Everything was made beautiful, and appropriate and 
 fitting. 
 
 AU the while that her mind was bursting from its 
 shell of ignorance, and her eyes were dilating with the 
 wonders that she saw, her womanhood was expanding 
 also, meeting his needs, receiving, so it seemed to 
 her, always more than she gave, not only ecstasy 
 and the fulness of love, but tenderness and exquisite 
 comprehension. Of course, she credited him with 
 even more than he gave. When he saw and spared 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 123 
 
 her blushes, when he prevised and helped her in her 
 inevitable reticences, the half-frightened abandonment 
 of her shyness, she adored his deUcacy. For she never 
 reaUsed that he was forty, she four-and-twenty. 
 
 Such a honeymoon as Berenice Darcy enjoyed with 
 Errington Welch-Kennard falls to the lot of few women. 
 Because she was rare, she never forgot that it was he 
 who had turned her face to paradise, that it was with 
 his arms about her she had approached the portals, seen 
 the glory, and entered in. 
 
 These are dehcate matters of which to write, these 
 honeymoon intimacies. Numbers of brides they estrange 
 definitely and for all time from their husbands ; some 
 they render all animal, jealous, absorbing, deaf and 
 dumb to all but self. The proportion of women such 
 as Berenice is so small as to be calculated only in decimals. 
 Hers was the ideal attitude of the woman to the man. 
 and, in his way, Errington Welch-Kennard both under- 
 stood and appreciated it. 
 
 However, an Errington Welch-Kennard cannot of 
 course, hve in a perpetual honeymoon. His wife's mono- 
 tonous goodness, her steady adoration, her exquisite 
 womanhness, were as definite and certain as the ring- 
 fence to an ordered estate. Almost before the end of the 
 first three months of their married Ufe, she had become 
 a mere charming background to the Hfe that claimed 
 him. 
 
 A multiphcity of duties awaited him on his return to 
 London, exhilarating, pleasant duties. The house had 
 been refurnished; it had also to be re-organised. 
 The Darcy's had had nothing out of their money, the 
 Welch-Kennards were going to have everythiug. Their 
 
124 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 carriages and horses must be of the best, the latest 
 automobile was a necessity. The inefficient, muddle- 
 headed, devoted servants who had served Norman 
 Darcy had to be replaced by smart, up-to-date domestics. 
 The butler and matched footmen, Errington's valet, 
 Berenice's French maid, were all models of deportment. 
 
 To handle his wife's large estate, to clear his own small 
 one, to place their establishment on the right footing, 
 were easy matters for Errington. The Queen's Gate 
 house rapidly assumed a distinctive air. Banished 
 were the Landseers, the marble busts, and the nineteenth- 
 century furniture. There were ElzeA^irs on the library 
 shelves, and the drawing-room, freed from terrible ormolu 
 and red damask had become a treasure-house of Chip- 
 pendale furniture of the Chinese period, lac quer screens, 
 and oriental ceramics. All this occupied another three or 
 four months. 
 
 It was not imtil Errington found himself yawning 
 at five o'clock tea, after a morning at Christie's, and an 
 afternoon in the park, that he voiced to himself again 
 that wealth, respectabihty, and the approval of one's 
 family, are none of them stimulating. He had feared this 
 in the last days before his marriage, the shadow of 
 boredom had haunted some few of his later amorous 
 moments. He had dimly surmised the possibilities of 
 ennvi that he in the society of a really good and beautiful 
 wife. He realised the possibiUty on that sunny after- 
 noon, early in May, when the sun streamed across the 
 park into the fascinating hbrary full of its rare volumes. 
 
 He yawned, he wondered what the devil he should 
 do with himself. He never had been a club man, and all 
 his old haunts were closed to him. He had called at 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 125 
 
 Hans Crescent early in the afternoon, but Sybil's door 
 was barred to visitors. Each attack now lasted longer, 
 left her weaker. He could not think of the Sphinx 
 easily, it hurt him to think of her, and of how httle 
 use, he, or his great prosperity, could be to her. 
 
 Yet it was this perpetual remembrance that made 
 him so sympathetic, so quickly responsive, to Berenice 
 when she came to him excitedly that afternoon, with wet 
 eyes, and with a story, almost incoherent at first, 
 through the passionate pity of its relation, sad enough 
 when he got at it at length and sifted its details. 
 
 Emily Darcy was president of some charity society 
 that was famiharly known, so to speak, by its Christian 
 name — alluded to as the S.P.M., for instance. She 
 had written, asking for the Welch-Kennard patron- 
 age. For it was against the Darcy tradition to quarrel 
 with relatives, and, already, all the Darcy's, even 
 Fred, had called on the newly married couple. Berenice 
 was longing to make some return for aU the happiness 
 that had come to her ; and she had gone to the meeting, 
 to which she had been invited, intending to help with 
 money, or personal service, or in any way that was 
 required of her. She had not imderstood the methods 
 of feminine charity. 
 
 The pensioners of the Society, or those that desired 
 to become pensioners, had to appear before a committee 
 of commonplace inquisitive women, and state their cases 
 personally. Some of these poor folk made their appeals 
 baldly and hesitatingly, some of them with hypocrite 
 tears and desultoriness, one of them. . . . 
 
 It was this one, her story coming at the end of a long 
 and trying afternoon, who had broken up the calm 
 
126 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Berenice had spent all her strength in maintaining. 
 After a short scene, in which the committee discovered 
 Mrs. Kennard's singular imfitness to be one of their 
 judicial body, she had come back to her husband, in- 
 coherent with indignation, and with something deeper and 
 more lasting than indignation. 
 
 " The poor women ! they came, Errie, and told their 
 stories. Such stories ! Asking for so Uttle, a few slul- 
 hngs to tide them over a child's illness, a husband's 
 accident. And they hated having to ask for help. 
 Then we cross-examined them. Oh ! Errie, to be 
 hungry, and wanting bread for your cluldien, and to 
 be asked suspiciously for your marriage certificate, or 
 a letter from the rector, or your last employer, and 
 how much you earned, or your husband earned, and 
 to be lectured as to how you should spend eighteen 
 shillings a week and save for a rainy day ! And, 
 Errie, at last a poor old woman came, who looked 
 so bent and shabby and old, the grief in her grey 
 old face forced tears into my eyes before she spoke, she 
 could hardly speak. They asked her questions, they 
 wouldn't help her, Errie . . ." 
 
 When Berenice got as far as that she bm'st out crying. 
 " Never mind. Don't cry, dear. You shall help, we 
 will help her. Tell me about it." 
 
 Errington was very gentle in his questioning. His wife 
 was really dear to him. She had not wept since her 
 marriage, he could not bear to see her cry. All his 
 boredom left him. He drew her into his arms. She 
 talked, when her sobs had ceased a httle, and she 
 could talk, with her face hidden on his shoulder, 
 feehng how blessed she was in such a husband. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 127 
 
 " She wanted help for her son, not for herself, she 
 said. She had never asked for help for herself. There 
 was pride in that quavering old voice. When they 
 questioned her I felt as if they were questioning me, I 
 got so hot and wretched. I saw there was something 
 she would not say. I watched, I wanted to tell her 
 not to say it. I did say : ' Never mind, if you 
 don't want to tell us, we will help you all the same, 
 we see you need it ; don't go on ; ' but they made 
 her tell them. ' He is just out of prison,' she said, 
 'my dear boy is just out of prison,' and the tears 
 rolled down her cheek — the tears of a broken old 
 woman. ' Oh ! we don't help felons. Try the Prisoners' 
 Aid Society. That is what Emily Darcy said, not 
 a word more. The old woman turned to go away, 
 quite humbly ; she made no protest, a sigh or sob was 
 in her throat, and her eyes were so piteous. I got up 
 from my seat. I think I said something rude to 
 Emily, I can't remember, I had begun to cry too. 
 I ran after her. I could only say, ' What is it, dear, 
 what is it ? Try to tell me.' " 
 
 She waited a few minutes with her head hidden against 
 his shoidder. Errington could see the scene vividly — 
 the whitewashed committee room, the stiff-necked 
 judicial feminine committee, and his Berenice among 
 them ! He could picture her rush from the room to 
 arrest that abject old woman, whose tears were stream- 
 ing down her face, and who had no words or protest. 
 He saw Berenice's arms about her, and heard her 
 gentle " What is it, dear ? " 
 
 " Go on," he said, and kissed the bright hair. " Go 
 on, tell me about it." 
 
128 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " Her boy was dying now, that was what she wanted to 
 tell them ; she needed help, for the first time, so that she 
 could give him nourishment, warmth, even luxury, she 
 knew we owed it to him, we who acquiesced in the laws. 
 All her life she had worked. She was only forty-eight, 
 although she looked seventy. Her husband had died two 
 years after her marriage ; he was killed at the docks. She 
 had this little boy, and toiled at making hst shppers, 
 and she had never asked anybody's help. She said to 
 me, ' He were that pretty, ma'am, and that gentle, as 
 never was.' " The mother's words came back to Berenice's 
 mind, and through her hps, quite simply. " And he 
 had blue eyes and golden hair, Errie, and called her 
 Mammy. He was in the 7th Standard before he was 
 twelve ; a good boy, everybody said he was a good 
 boy. When he left school he was an errand boy, and 
 then a carman. Nobody had a word against him. He 
 got a situation at the Army and Navy Stores . . . I'll 
 never go there again, never. He was searched one 
 day — it seems all the employes bind themselves 
 to submit to this. They found three cigars upon 
 him ! He said the buyer gave them to him. But 
 he couldn't prove it, and he wasn't properly defended ; 
 it was all done so quickly. They sentenced him to three 
 months' imprisonment, with hard labour. He was all 
 she had, and they lived together always, and he never 
 left oil calling her l\Iamm}'. She said she took the 
 same care of him as if he'd been a gentleman's son. He 
 was always delicate, and his grandfather died of con- 
 sumption ..." 
 
 Errington drew her closer into the shelter of his arm, 
 and let her cry there. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 129 
 
 " Well ? " lie said, " well ? " 
 
 " He caught cold in the gaol, he had no under- 
 vest when he went in, so they gave him none. And 
 the food was so little and bad, and didn't nourish 
 him, Errie. He — ^he broke a blood vessel. He was 
 alone all one night in that whitewashed cell, vomiting 
 blood, thirsty, dying. He couldn't get to the bell. 
 Yesterday they let him out. She says she has never 
 slept all the time of his punishment, thinking of him 
 on his plank bed, nor eaten. And now the doctor says 
 he can hardly last the week out^— all for those three 
 cigars. Seventeen years old, dying prison-stained, in 
 awful despair, hopeless of mercy, having known none. 
 Oh ! can't we do something, anything, for these horrible 
 laws ? " 
 
 " Capital punishment for steaUng three cigars ! " 
 
 He was very httle less moved than she. He had for- 
 gotten; but once those were the things that burnt 
 him. Slothful and lazy he had grown, not generous, 
 as of old, in seeing wrong, the Quixote in him sleeping. 
 Now, soothing and comforting his wife, he was seeing 
 a vision beyond the sordid common httle tragedy over 
 which she was sobbing. The vision was before him of 
 Algernon, in convict clothes, on a public railway plat- 
 form, handcuffed, chained to another malefactor, while 
 a drunken man spat at him ; in that vision he saw 
 Algernon's anguished eyes. 
 
 The Sphinx and he together had heard of that 
 incident. How they had cursed the laws that had made 
 such an outrage possible. 
 
 " We'U do what we can. We must do all that is in 
 our power. Hush, child, hush, don't cry, it doesn't 
 
 I 
 
130 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 help them, it hurts me. Why didn't we hear of it 
 before ? I would have defended him, I would have 
 pleaded for him." 
 
 " I know." 
 
 He kissed her hair. 
 
 " You could have saved him." She sobbed. 
 
 " Perhaps ; at least, I should have tried." 
 
 " Errington, we can't sit still whilst these things 
 happen." 
 
 The current of his thoughts was altered by the con- 
 versation, and he loved his wife for her wet eyes. This 
 amazing marriage of his had not, after all, lost its 
 charm. 
 
 He promised he would see the woman to-morrow, 
 and supplement what Berenice had done for her. He 
 talked of the new open-air cure for consumption, he per- 
 suaded her that the mother had despaired too soon, he 
 raised her drooping spirits, and his own with them. 
 Then he declared that he would not have her unhappy. 
 She must go upstairs and dry her eyes, and put on her 
 very smartest frock, and come out and dine with him 
 at the Savoy. 
 
 She met his variabihty through her tears. She 
 reahsed that his sensitiveness was too exquisite for 
 pressure. It was her great charm for him that she made 
 so httle demand, but yielded to him so completely. 
 
 " We'll dine at the Savoy, and go on to the Gaiety." 
 
 " It would be dehghtful. I do love doing unexpected 
 things." 
 
 " But we ought to have a party. Shall I telephone 
 the Galsworthys ? " 
 
 " It always seems best to me being alone with you." 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 131 
 
 The smile through the tears was rainbow-sweet. Quite 
 a fresh admiration for her was awakened ; her tears 
 had touched him strangely. It was in natural reaction 
 that the spirit of mischief entered into him. 
 
 " How would it be to sup in a private room after- 
 wards ? That would be really a new experience for 
 you, at least, I suppose so." 
 
 Perhaps he had hoped to see her colour deepen, but, 
 instead, it was a grateful smile that met him. 
 
 " Yes, I should hke that immensely, just you and I 
 together, without the noise and bustle of people." 
 
 " You would hke a new experience ? " he said curiously. 
 He was playing with some unhcensed reminiscence. 
 It had always been pity that had aroused his passion, 
 tears that had led to his undoing. 
 
 " I hke everything we do together. I have been very 
 little to restaurants in London. Norman was always 
 an invalid, and he hked his own house best." 
 
 " The house with the marbled wall-paper, and the 
 Landseers, the jute tablecloth, the ormolu . . . oh ! " 
 But this was under his breath. She was really imique. 
 The tear-stains under her eyes made his heart beat. 
 He was in love aU over again. 
 
 " So you see, imtU I went abroad with you, untU 
 our honeymoon, I had hardly ever had a meal out 
 of my own house, except with our Darcy relatives, 
 tiU that wonderful supper at the Carlton, when we 
 met." 
 
 The love in her wet eyes afEected him ; he caught 
 her closer to him. 
 
 " So you still think that a wonderful supper ? You 
 are not a bit disillusioned 1 " 
 
132 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 With her face hidden against his shoulder, she whis- 
 pered : 
 
 " I love you endlessly, immeasurably." 
 
 He vowed it was charming of her. 
 
 The little dinner at the Savoy that night was a com- 
 plete success. Errington was conscious of having the 
 best-looking woman in the room at his own table. 
 She had learnt, too, to dress exquisitely ; there was 
 a touch of distinction in her shy bearing, and the French 
 maid was an artist in arranging that luxuriant hair. 
 Her slender throat and small ears were dehcately 
 perfect ; and her eyes and all her thoughts were with him. 
 He played with his imagination — the supper in the 
 private room after the play — he pictured the possi- 
 bihties, past adventures crowded upon him. If she had 
 only not been his wife ! 
 
 He was very gay at dinner, conscious, too, that if 
 Berenice attracted men's eyes, he could hold those 
 of their companions. He talked brilliantly, fluently, 
 continuously. It was absurd of him to be bored. 
 Life sparkled about him hke sunlight dancing upon 
 water. 
 
 Kennard had effloresced a little since his marriage ; 
 t was inevitable. He had always loved rare and beau- 
 tiful things, now the pearls in his shirt-front were black, 
 the buttons of his waistcoat were of the most deUcate 
 workmanship, serpentining in diamonds around blue 
 enamel, his sleeve Hnks were pink pearls set d jour. 
 Perhaps his figure had grown a trifle, anyway, he was 
 supremely self-conscio\is. 
 
 The musical comedy was dull, but, to his amusement, 
 perhaps a httle to his uneasy exhilaration, a new 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 133 
 
 dancer, wicked, slender, sinuous, aroused Ms interest, 
 Ms attention. 
 
 Berenice benefited, lie was sweet to her at that 
 little supper in the private room. He was ready to 
 play for her delectation alone the whole scenario of 
 the comedietta that might have been. 
 
 She was confused, surprised, but submissive, wifely 
 — ^Berenice, in fact. There was no vice in her. He 
 was ashamed of Ms experiment, and abandoned it in the 
 making. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Nevertheless that little serious conversation with 
 his wife, that sad case she had related to him, bore 
 fruit. Many motives moved him. He was, after aU, 
 too vain and too able a man to be satisfied with mere 
 ease. He was suflSciently clever to be aware of his 
 weaknesses. Although he was in love with his wife, 
 the appeal of that new dancer at the Gaiety, a sudden 
 interest in a trim httle figure crossing a road, a gleam of 
 invitation in the bright eyes of a telegraph clerk, even 
 the swish of a silk petticoat on the stairs, reminded him 
 constantly that the blood in his veins was still warm. 
 
 He must work. Work is the only panacea for this 
 type of restlessness. He had never been an athlete, 
 so that way of rescue was not open to him. And he 
 meant to make his wife a good and faithful husband, 
 notwithstanding that, in her rare intervals of ease, the 
 Sphinx would send for him, and jeer at him, and he 
 would fall in with her mood when she would encourage 
 him to talk of the pleasures of variety, and the sheer 
 suburbanism of domestic virtue. 
 
 No ! work was what he wanted, and must have. With- 
 out it, his strength would go out of him, his power, and 
 even his intellect, would grow dull. AU the exercise he had 
 had for it, and for his imaginative powers for months, had 
 been telling his wife the things he wanted her to know in 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 135 
 
 the way he wanted her to know them. And he was sur- 
 feited with his success. He was not the man to be 
 known as the husband of that " charming Mrs. — " 
 
 In his first revolt from such a suggestion, he began a 
 literal translation of Omar. That nobody wanted to 
 read it when it was finished did not hurt him at aU. It 
 had helped him through some domesticities, and it had 
 proved to himself that his mentahty was not faiUng. 
 It had given him excuse for seeking Sybil's stimulating 
 society. Together they had discussed phrase and 
 meaning. But when it was finished, he wearied again 
 for occupation. 
 
 Berenice, too, had not been idle in her happiness. 
 Norman Darcy had his fine memorial She began to 
 interest herself too in many charities, institutes, and 
 organisations. Errington could not afford to sit stiU. 
 
 Sybil chaSed him about his wife's philanthropies ; 
 but it seemed there was no nearer interest coming to her, 
 and Errington was too wise in women not to know that 
 a hobby of some sort is essential. Otherwise havoc 
 is wrought by senseless exaction and demand. He 
 shrugged his shoulders about it when he talked to 
 the Sphinx. Women were but children, he said, and 
 must have their toys. And, after all, philanthiopy 
 was more dignified than dogs, kennel club quarrels, and 
 natural history detail. Berenice had no turn for bridge, 
 racing, or croquet. Children, apparently, were not in 
 the programme. At this Sybil laughed, and Kennard 
 was rather furious. He went on to say that his wife 
 had no enthusiasm for curios. At which she laughed 
 again. 
 
 It was not necessary to teU Sybil that he was proud of 
 
136 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 his wife's pursuits, that his practical intelligence helped 
 her, and every charity with which she associated her- 
 self. There were many sides to Errington Welch- 
 Kennard's character. Sybil and Berenice each saw 
 him difierently. He could not dissociate himself 
 from the Sphinx, nor free himself from the spell 
 that had held him so long; but he kept the two 
 women apart as much as it was possible for him to do so. 
 Sybil's health made it comparatively easy. The general 
 paralysis, from which she was sufiering, grew upon her. 
 The intervals between her attacks of pain were not 
 to be wasted on any save those who imderstood her ; 
 both of them felt that. And, as long as he came, it was 
 indiSerent to her if Berenice stayed away. 
 
 But when, in the exhilarated restlessness that followed 
 that evening at the Savoy with his wife, he wanted to 
 resume the active pursuits of his profession, and found 
 himself beginning to go regularly to the office, to the 
 surprise of Edward Carker, but also to his exceeding 
 satisfaction, it was the Sphinx who suggested to him 
 that he should leave the lower grade of the law, 
 that he should pass his examinations, eat his dirmers, 
 and be called to the Bar. She it was who told_:him that 
 in the forum, where men congregate, where eloquence 
 counts, where there are great prizes, he would win his 
 triumphs. 
 
 Of course, the idea appealed to him, held him. 
 
 Why not ? What other men could do he could do, 
 or more. There was once a brilhant stockbroker 
 who became a celebrated K.C., who was even then being 
 talked of for the Chancellorship. 
 
 It hung in the balance for some weeks whether he 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 137 
 
 would essay the Bar, or remain with the firm in South- 
 ampton Street. An accident, and Berenice's entreaty^ 
 perhaps, too, the natural indolence of prosperity, 
 decided him on the simpler course. 
 
 A treasury prosecution, initiated in response to a 
 fictitious, press-made pubhc clamour, resulted, through 
 the great talent of the counsel for the prosecution, in 
 the conviction of a company director, who committed 
 suicide in the dock. It happened that Berenice had 
 met the man's unhappy wife, and she knew that, 
 whatever the dead company director had been in his 
 pubhc hfe, at home he was a loved father and husband, 
 the centre of his circle. When the newspaper boys were 
 shouting out their news, " Company director commits 
 suicide in the dock. End of ' Thessiger Rong,' case," 
 her heart leapt to the woman waiting, with what calm 
 she could, for the verdict of the jury, for the sentence 
 of the court, on the man in whose arms she had slept for 
 thirty years of honoured wifedom. He had chosen to 
 go before a higher tribunal; but Berenice found her 
 heart aching for his wife. 
 
 That night the Welch-Kennards were dining out, and 
 the conversation tiu-ned naturally upon this case, and 
 its result. The great advocate, who had prosecuted 
 for the Treasury, was discussed, his eloquence and his 
 pitiless logic were admired. 
 
 It was then that their host, turning to Errington, took 
 up, as it were, the parable of the Sphinx. 
 
 " That is where you ought to be, Kennard. You 
 ought to have been at the Bar. There is no saying what 
 a man of your talents could have done." 
 
 The quick flush came into Berenice's cheek. She 
 
138 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 answered for him, impulsively, without giving herself 
 time to think : 
 
 " But surely, General, surely, to fight in such fields is 
 to win sad victories." 
 
 Then she was ashamed of her words ; but Errington, 
 seeing her drift, flung himself into the argument, seized 
 her point, and pressed it home. 
 
 " My wife is right. General. An advocate must see 
 only his goal, or his client's goal, and go straight for a 
 result, an effect, obliterating from his sight everything 
 that is outside the perspective, ignoring women's and 
 children's tears, desolate and disgraced families, all the 
 infinite eddies that foUow crime, even as a pool into which 
 a stone has been flung. My branch of the profession 
 has the nobler part. We can settle cases out of court. 
 We can save disaster, avert shipwreck, find the golden 
 mean." 
 
 The conversation ebbed and flowed, but Errington 
 persuaded himself as he talked, decided for himself as 
 he talked. 
 
 In the carriage, going home, Berenice thanked him 
 for his decision. Afterwards, in those hours left sacred 
 to her, those hours when a wife has her chance against 
 any outside influence, and wins always if she uses it 
 aright, she thanked him again for his decision. 
 
 Errington would not go to the bar. He would remain 
 where he was. As a mere solicitor, he was in the position, 
 would often be in the position, to keep cases out of court 
 altogether. He could plead for criminals, uith them, 
 perhaps, in his office. She was sure he could do more 
 good that way. She was appalled at the prospect of 
 her dear one standing up in court, using his power and 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 139 
 
 his presence, that voice she loved, and his great gift of 
 eloquence, to some poor man's undoing. Even if that 
 poor man should be a wicked one, and well deserving his 
 fate, Errington must not be responsible for his punish- 
 ment. 
 
 So it was ultimately decided. Sybil yielded, when 
 she found that Kennard's incUnations were all against 
 her. Her influence had not been gained by force. 
 
 Errington Welch-Kennard would use his energy, 
 exert his strength, his intelligence, in Southampton 
 Street. 
 
 Messrs. Kennard and Carker soon felt the effects of 
 Errington's new activities. Their business expanded 
 rapidly. They had not been acco\mted criminal lawyers, 
 yet it was in this branch the development took place. 
 
 There was another cause that contributed, perhaps, 
 to this result. The great criminal lawyer of the late 
 nineteenth century had fallen into bad health, he had 
 grown rich, a little idle, perhaps. His son was unable 
 to keep the reins of the big business in his compara- 
 tively inexperienced hands. When Sir Reuben Mark was 
 too ill to see clients, and young Reuben was honey- 
 mooning, the Princess Norma di Paghavicini brought 
 her celebrated suit against the Prince. 
 
 It is possible she would have gone to Kennard, any- 
 way, for advice. He had certainly been invaluable 
 to her in adjusting matters between her and Lord 
 Manningtree in his pre-nuptial days. But she had 
 progressed since then. She was a very smart lady now, 
 since her marriage with the cousin of the reigning house 
 in Italy. Her suit against him was the event of the 
 season. 
 
140 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Kennard, who hesitated when first she came to him, 
 was moved without much difficulty to take up the case ; 
 and, once he had taken it up, he threw himself into it 
 with something of his old impetuosity and enthusiasm. 
 Berenice was told all about it. That is to say, she 
 was told just enough to make her think the Princess a 
 very imfortunate and badly treated lady. She begged 
 Errington to do his best for her. 
 
 Norma hardly knew what to make of the sympathetic 
 visit Berenice paid her in her luxurious suite at the Savoy. 
 The two women were extraordinarily incongruous, and 
 the scene between them needs the pen of a Thackeray. 
 Norma, in her lace peignoir, and disingenuous hair, 
 scented and frilled, and exquisitely artificial, was con- 
 fronted by Berenice, in the simplest of walking frocks, 
 with impulsive, outstretched hands, and offers of help, 
 countenance, friendship. 
 
 " My husband told me how badly you have been 
 treated. I am so glad he will help you to get back 
 your fortune, your jewellery. You must have suffered 
 so ! May I help you too ? He and I — my husband 
 and I." 
 
 It was pathetic to see how proud she was when she 
 said " my husband," the pretty flush that deepened the 
 carmine of her cheeks. 
 
 " We are so sorry for you. Won't you come to us 
 whilst the suit is pending ?" She was eager in her 
 hospitahty. " You must hate the pubHcity of this." 
 
 Norma, to whom pubhcity was, and always had been, as 
 meat and drink, raised her bold eyes, but dropped them 
 again, for what she read in those she met abashed her. 
 
 " It must be so terrible to be deserted. I know it 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 141 
 
 is not because he took your jewellery, your diamonds, 
 that you are unhappy." 
 
 The Httle adventuress had no words. 
 
 When Errington came home that evening, and heard 
 of Berenice's visit to his client, he was first dismayed, 
 then convulsed with internal laughter, finally full of 
 curiosity as to the details of the interview. 
 
 But, later on, he heard them more reaUstically from 
 Norma. 
 
 " Say ! Kennard, you've struck oU in that wife of 
 yours. She's a daisy, that's what she is. I suppose 
 you'll carry on just hke you used, but it's a damned 
 shame. She's too good for you." 
 
 " I am flattered." 
 
 " Of coiirse you are ! But it's her ignorance, that's 
 what it is. Think of her wanting me to come and stay 
 with you until you've got back my diamonds for me " 
 
 " The Pagliavicini diamonds " he interrupted. 
 
 " He gave them to me," she interjected defiantly. 
 
 " To his wife ! " 
 
 " I am his wife." 
 
 Errington laughed. They were in his private office. 
 The room, with its eighteenth-century furniture and 
 few fine prints was unlike an ordinary lawyer's office. 
 The dull legal tomes and accumulation of " Burke," 
 " Dodd," and " Landed Gentry," the directories and 
 peerages, acquired dignity behind the reticulated glass 
 and inlay of a Chippendale bookcase. The historical 
 armoire, the big curved sofa, were more in keeping with 
 the man than with his profession. 
 
 " Of course you are his wife. Or would have been 
 but for your httle indiscretion before a registrar with 
 
142 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 John Travers ! But, apparently, they don't know about 
 that yet. And, of course, PagUavicini gave you the 
 diamonds. Only they happen to be heirlooms ! We need 
 not humbug with each other, need we, little woman ? " 
 
 " John Travers is dead," she said sullenly. 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 " You are not going to throw me over ? " 
 
 " Not I. But we are walking on broken glass, and 
 if we don't step carefully we shall cut our feet. So, my 
 wife asked you to come and stay with us in Prince's 
 Gate ? Tell me what she said." 
 
 Norma gave the scene with her inimitable histrionic 
 talent. Proud of Berenice for her action, for the dignity 
 with which she had performed it, it was still not possible 
 for Errington to fail Norma in his tribute of apprecia- 
 tion. 
 
 He thanked his wife when he got home that evening 
 for what she had done, and told her how much the 
 Princess Paghavicini had been touched by it, and 
 that he was happy in her sympathy and help. 
 
 The Paghavicini matter would, perhaps, not have 
 been attended with so much pubhcity had it not been 
 that there was a singular dearth of news. The Daily 
 Mail devoted a column to the Paghavicini pedigree, 
 and the degeneracy of the particular member of the 
 family, who, having torn this well-known and charming 
 cantatrice from the stage, had flimg her aside after six 
 weeks of wedded happiness, taldng with him all her 
 jewellery, leaving her practically penniless. It was 
 good journahsm, but bad fact. 
 
 However, there was quite sufficient influence at work 
 to prevent the scandal reaching very large proportions. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 143 
 
 What the Princess received in lieu of the diamonds never 
 became public knowledge. Presently, there were ad- 
 mirably worded paragraphs conveying the impression 
 that the young couple had made up their differences ; 
 and, when these were followed by the announcement that 
 an enterprising American manager had arranged a tour 
 in the States for the Princess, the whole matter began 
 to assume its right proportion, and the " Princess" her 
 right place. 
 
 Kennard's tact in the affair was thoroughly appre- 
 ciated. The Prince and his legal advisers seemed hardly 
 less satisfied than Norma and her sensation-loving 
 sympathisers. That Sir Reuben Mark in his best days 
 could not have managed it better, was the unanimous 
 verdict of the right people. 
 
 Errington, who had the gift which distinguishes the 
 man of ability, of seizing his opportunity, began now to 
 entertain at Prince's Gate, on a rather large scale. 
 There are always people ready to be entertained. The 
 plutocracy were not afraid to go to theKennards. They 
 were meeting their equals, no one would borrow of them. 
 The equal of the plutocrat is merely the man with a 
 banking account. 
 
 Then, Errington was attractive to men of intellect. 
 One began to meet amusing people at Prince's Gate. 
 The social circle grew quite quickly. 
 
 Sir Reuben's wife was affected, exclusive, patron- 
 ising. Berenice was all that is different. She radiated 
 goodness, and her courtesy, her ingenuousness and youth, 
 her candour and completeness, gave her an immediate 
 standing with the best of those who came. 
 
 Of course^ they had luck. It was almost within the 
 
144 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 same week as the Pagliavicini matter that the Honour- 
 able Peter Kinross got into trouble, through his in- 
 judicious advocacy of another outraged lady. And the 
 Countess of Wraybury showed her gratitude to the 
 lawyer who had so admirably managed her son's case 
 before it reached the President of the Divorce Court by 
 ofiering to present his wife at court. 
 
 There were not so many pretty women at court that 
 year that Berenice passed unnoticed. She and her 
 clothes were paragraphed, the Darcy fortune was quad- 
 rupled. Every photographer in London began to ask 
 her for complimentary sittings. At a baU given by the 
 Marchioness of Tewkesbury, the Prince of Wales danced 
 twice with Berenice, and asked that she should sup at 
 his table. 
 
 After this, the Welch-Kennard's social success was 
 assured. 
 
 The business progressed in the same remarkable 
 manner. Within two years of the Paghavicini incident, it 
 was said that Messrs. Kennard and Carker had created 
 a " corner in divorce," that the circumventing of 
 a blackmailer was easy child's play to them, and that 
 Sir Reuben Mark had never been " in it " with Errington 
 Welch-Kennard in his employment of the famous word 
 " compromise." 
 
 For Kennard, seated in his office, realising with that 
 fine intelhgence of his, and comprehending, through his 
 large heart, that human nature is very prone to err; 
 seeing round, and through, each case, with the unbiassed 
 eyes of a higher charity, ignored mere man-made justice. 
 He learnt the laws only so far as the knowledge enabled or 
 aided him to evade them. He saw uneducated or in- 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 145 
 
 eradicable instinct where a judge would have seen only 
 crime ; accident, where another might have seen inten- 
 tion ; and, always, the anguish of the women. 
 
 Kennard, whatever his faults, had one truth so distinct 
 in his mind, that he could not but show it in his conduct. 
 He knew that never a verdict is given by a jury, never 
 the word " guilty," hghtly spoken by the foreman, 
 wakes the echo of the court, but some innocent wife or 
 child, brother or husband, sister or mistress, bends a 
 dishonoured head, with eyes wet with the tears that never 
 yet have been able to wash away the shame which an 
 adverse verdict carries with it. He was, and it cannot 
 be forgotten, not a lawyer only, but a man, whose 
 boyhood's hero had staggered out of an Enghsh prison, 
 degraded out of manhood, broken, insane from sohtude, 
 a thousand times worse than before his punishment 
 began. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 The Keimards had been married about three years, 
 and were in the very zenith of their popularity and 
 prosperity, when Berenice received from her half-brother 
 a letter announcing his return to England, asking a 
 welcome from her, reminding her that she was his 
 only relative. 
 
 The Kennards were at breakfast when the letter 
 arrived. It was still Berenice's dehght to minister to 
 her husband, to pour out his coffee, to butter his toast, 
 to wait upon him. 
 
 Harry Annersley's letters to her had been quite 
 regular. Nothing indicated that there was anything of 
 an unusual interest in this one. She laid it aside until 
 breakfast was well on its way. 
 
 A dutiful correspondence had been begun between 
 her and her half-brother on her marriage with Norman 
 Darcy. The Darcy's had always set great store on the 
 ties of blood, and it was at her fiist husband's desire that 
 she had begun to write to Harry. 
 
 And Annersely had appreciated her letters, with the 
 kinship she claimed, and had answered them promptly. 
 
 The man was an abstraction to her. He had left 
 England when she was less than two years old. Gradu- 
 ally, imperceptibly, Berenice had woven in her mind a 
 picture 'of this distant half-brother. She had grown 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 147 
 
 fond of her creation. The correspondence had become 
 more and more friendly, more and more confidential. 
 Berenice revealed herself completely in those letters. 
 Unconsciously, they had been a safety valve to that 
 unemotional first marriage of hers. Later on they had 
 become a form of diary. 
 
 Harry Annersley must have known of her dawning 
 love for the lawyer called in to arrange her affairs 
 before she knew of it herself ; for his sympathetic 
 response had synchronised with her early wedding day. 
 Later, he had sent her a very valuable wedding 
 present, a magnificent rope of matched pearls. With 
 this had come a letter that riveted his claim upon 
 her. He told her that she must not let her new 
 marriage interfere with her correspondence with him, 
 adding that her letters were his greatest fink with 
 home ; he had no other private correspondent, it was 
 on her account alone that he watched for mail days ! 
 He said that he was not a poor man, and that his 
 purse was hers, that, had he not known how well 
 she was situated, he would have sent her money in 
 lieu of gems. But, in any case, she was to remember 
 always that he was her brother, that he had no one 
 else belonging to him, and that whatever he had, 
 was, and would be, hers. He wrote, too, that, if 
 her second marriage were blessed with children, they 
 would be his heirs, if she were not; for he would never 
 marry. He knew what love was, but would never 
 marry. 
 
 There was a hint of romance in this, and Berenice had 
 asked for detail. He had written back that the story 
 of his love was not one that he could "write her. But 
 
148 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 her curiosity was piqued ; and the lonely figure of 
 her distant half-brother gained in romance. 
 
 Errington knew, in a general way, something of 
 the firm in which Harry Annersley was a partner. 
 Messrs. FendeU and Co., grain importers, were big people. 
 He was not a man to be influenced by this. If Berenice 
 had had a brother, poor, strugghng, out at elbows, it 
 would have seemed to Errington equally fit that she 
 should not disregard the relationship. 
 
 But, up to now, Harry Annersley had been, to both 
 the Kennards, httle more than a name, a something in 
 the distant background of their fives, inconsiderable, 
 but rather pleasant. Now it seemed that he might 
 become a vital force in their existence. 
 
 The letter which lay on the breakfast table that 
 morning announced that Harry was coming home, that 
 he was middle-aged, tired, and homesick. There was 
 a strain of depression in it. It asked for a welcome. 
 
 " I don't know how I shall mix with you and yoiir 
 friends. I have been here so long that I seem to have 
 forgotten EngHsh ways. But the little sister that I 
 held in my arms when she was the smallest baby I ever 
 saw, wiU hold out hers to me now, perhaps ? I long to 
 see you. You don't know what your letters have been 
 to me. I am tired out with strugghng for money. I 
 don't know why I have gone on so long, I don't see 
 what good my money is going to be to me. I am 
 coming home, half an invafid, morose, not a very 
 pleasant addition to any family. Ask your husband 
 to spare you to me for a few days. I will take you 
 anywhere you care to go, the Continent, the Engfish 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 149 
 
 seaside, anywhere. I know, from all you have told me, 
 what a good fellow he must be. I hope we shall become 
 friends. But I make friends with great difficulty. I 
 have lived alone all these five-and-twenty years. There 
 was no one here with whom I cared to be intimate. 
 I think all the intimacy I have had with any one has 
 been with you, in your dear letters." 
 
 Berenice passed the letter over to Errington. 
 
 " Poor chap. Write and tell him he must come 
 straight here, and make his home with us while he is 
 looking about him. If he really is Ul, we can look after 
 him better than any seaside or continental doctor, and 
 if he has only ' got a liver,' like most of those fellows 
 get in hot chmates. . . ." 
 
 " But Galatz is not a hot chmate, Errie." 
 
 " What a matter of fact little person you are ! The 
 point is, the feUow is down on his luck — heaps of money, 
 and nobody to care about him. You will have to pet 
 him up a little, as you do me." He flung his arm about 
 her shoulders. " Is there room in your heart for two of 
 us?" 
 
 She never lost the habit of blushing at his commenda- 
 tion. 
 
 " I should like to have him here," she said, soberly. 
 " You don't know how much I have thought of having a 
 brother all my own . . . not lately, I mean," she in- 
 terrupted herself hastily, fearing she might hurt his 
 feeUngs, or make him think he was less than enough for 
 her, " but when Norman was aUve, and afterwards, and 
 before you and I were married." 
 
 " I am not a bit jealous ! We will take this Anglo- 
 
150 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Galatzian to both our hearts, and give him a good time. 
 He will find some changes in London, won't he ? I 
 suppose you do nob remember him at all 1 " 
 
 " Oh no. I was only a baby when he went away. My 
 father had some words with him, I don't know what 
 about. I think he resented having a stepmother. 
 When he wanted to go abroad, the firm he was with 
 found him a post. They had a great opinion of him, 
 my father used to say. He rose and rose with them, 
 and became a partner. I really know very httle about 
 him." 
 
 " There is a dash of sentimentality in his letter, don't 
 you think ? " 
 
 She smiled a little wistfully at that. 
 
 " I think there is. I think that is what I find at- 
 tractive in all of them. He says he is morose, but 
 there's an undertone that seems to ask for affection and 
 sympathy. He writes as if his life had been a dis- 
 appointment to him some way or other, as if it has been 
 set in the wrong key. I have sometimes wondered if 
 it was the coming of my mother to his home that made 
 things wrong for him ? If it was really that " 
 
 " You would feel bound to make it up to him. That's 
 so, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Something hke that," she laughed. 
 
 A rush of business at the office put the coming of 
 Harry Annersley out of Errington's head. And when, 
 a month or two later, Berenice told him that Harry 
 would be at Southampton within a week, he had almost 
 forgotten"^ who Harry was. When, however, he saw 
 her face fall at his forgetfulness, he rapidly recalled 
 their conversation, and the letter. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 151 
 
 " Well, of course you must go down and meet him. 
 That's the thing to do. It will put heart into him when 
 he finds you waiting for him. I would go with you, 
 but perhaps he would rather have you to himself for a 
 little, and I am up to my neck in work just now. What 
 do you say ? Would you care to go down ? Marie 
 would go with you. And I think you had better take 
 one of the men, Thomas, for instance. It is ten to one 
 he is travelling without a valet, and Thomas could look 
 after him until he has time to get one." 
 
 " Can you do without me ? she said. " I should Uke 
 to go." 
 
 His green eyes smiled at her. 
 
 " I will try ; but it wiU not be easy." 
 
 " I don't mean that," she blushed. " Of course you 
 can do without me, but, I mean, do you mind ? " 
 
 " Of course, I mind ! But I am not going to be selfish." 
 
 " You never are." 
 
 " Well, anyway, I know where to come for a good 
 character. If I were you, I should persuade Annersley 
 to come straight back with you, leaving plans for the 
 future, and everything else to be settled later on. He 
 is sure to have a certain amount of business to attend 
 to ; tell him he can rely upon me if he wants intro- 
 ductions, or anything of that sort. Yes, you go off to 
 Southampton with the fatted calf in a basket." 
 
 " But he is not a prodigal, Errie ! " 
 
 " Never mind, I daresay he Ukes roast veal ! The 
 fourteenth did you say it was ? Haven't we got a diimer 
 here on the nineteenth ? That will just give him time 
 to get clothes ; I expect he has been depending upon 
 local tailors ! " 
 
152 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " You think of everything." 
 
 " Not quite ; I said nothing about his boots. I once 
 met a man who had been twenty-five years in the 
 Colonies, and who came out to dinner in a brand new 
 suit from Poole's and a pair of shooting-boots. As he 
 had also forgotten to wash his hands he made quite a 
 sensation." 
 
 " I will remind Harry," she said, smiling. 
 
 Berenice went down to Southampton to meet her 
 brother, full of happy expectation.^^ She^ Waited at the 
 hotel for him. That, too, was Errington's suggestion: 
 
 " Don't go out to the ship," he had said, " not even 
 if there is a tender. It will only be embarrassing, for 
 you won't know each other. Send him a note, and le 
 him come to you at the hotel." 
 
 She watched through her glasses the slow steady 
 arrival of the ship, the throng of men and women on 
 the gangway. 
 
 Even before she expected him, he waa in the room. 
 She heard the door open, his name announced, and 
 swiftly she turned to meet him, her heart beating, her 
 eyes eager. Her strong imagination saw in him only 
 the embodied word " brother." She took no heed of 
 the manner of man he was or might be, for that was 
 Berenice. She held out both hands to him, with her 
 eyes alight, with her lips quivering, with her voice a 
 little tremulous. 
 
 " I would not come out to the quay," she began. " If 
 we had not recognised each other ! But now — now you 
 are here." 
 
 Her agitation communicated itself to him. 
 
 " It is good of you," he said huskily, " to come so far. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 153 
 
 How can I thank you ? " He took her two hands, and 
 flushed when she offered him her cheek, when his 
 lips touched it reverently. His eyes were as wet as 
 hers. 
 
 " You make me feel I am welcome, that I have really 
 come home." 
 
 " Do I ? I am so glad. That's what I wanted, 
 that's what Errington, what my husband, thought I 
 could do by coming." 
 
 " I don't know how to thank you," he said again. 
 " How beautiful you are ! " 
 
 He was still holding her hands, looking at her. The 
 ready flush dyed her cheek again. 
 
 "It is wonderful to have a big brother to pay me 
 comphments ! " 
 
 " But I thought I had a httle sister, and I have got a 
 big one ! " 
 
 " I have always been glad to have some one belonging 
 to me." 
 
 " And what do you think I must have felt about it, 
 alone out there ? " 
 
 " You Uked getting my letters ? Norman first made 
 me write." 
 
 " I should think I did." 
 
 " And am I hke what you expected ? " she said, a little 
 shyly. He had held her hand so long, he was looking 
 at her so intently, and she had hardly looked at him 
 yet. 
 
 " You're a thousand times more beautiful. I under- 
 stand now why my father was so proud of you." 
 
 " Was he ? " 
 
 " Of course he was." 
 
154 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " Did you go away because you were jealous of me ? " 
 Don't ask me why I went away. I was a young 
 fool. At first I was jealous of your mother, and 
 then I found she was the sweetest and most beautiful 
 thing in the world. My father accused me of being in 
 love with her, and I was proud to think it was true. 
 Then you came, and I was jealous of you, with both of 
 them." 
 
 " But you gave me a doll." 
 
 " Oh, yes. I tried to hate you, but I had you in my 
 arms sometimes, and I couldn't do it." 
 
 " How old was I when you last saw me, when you 
 gave me the doll ? Not two, was I ? " 
 
 " I don't know. You were a carroty little thing i 
 You pulled my hair when I kissed you good-bye, and 
 you banged the door in my face ! I think you didn't 
 Uke me because I was black. I was always an ugly 
 fellow." 
 
 " Oh, I don't think you ugly," she said quickly. 
 " But we're not a bit alike. I'm sorry about that." 
 
 They both laughed when she said he was not ugly, 
 and, certainly, as her eyes dwelt upon him there was no 
 look of distaste in them, rather a tenderness, a baiilked 
 maternity, a yearning over him. Harry had never 
 encountered just that look in a woman's eyes before. 
 For the moment, the two had an emotionahsm in common. 
 Their voices were vmsteady, the next few sentences had 
 no meaning in them, their calm was broken. 
 
 He had not expected the sweet letter that had been 
 handed to him, nor her meeting him. He was moved 
 out of all habit. Before they had regained their self- 
 possession some five or ten minutes had elapsed. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 155 
 
 To Harry, in this first half-hour, Berenice seemed 
 almost a young goddess. That she should claim kin- 
 ship with him, nay, that she should insist upon it, was 
 exquisitely beautiful and touching to him. 
 
 Her slender grace and beauty had lost nothing since 
 her marriage. She had gained in distinction and style, 
 and had lost nothing of youth. The whilom carroty 
 hair had become a deep auburn, her eyes were brilliant 
 under their softness, the sweet tremulousness of her 
 lips was for him. The place she took in his heart in 
 that dingy hotel sitting-room she never lost. His love 
 for her was, perhaps, a little tinged with awe, she 
 seemed amazingly; above and beyond him. That she 
 loved him because he was her brother, and would depend 
 on him, and had written him confidential letters, were 
 all separate delights. 
 
 Harry Annersley was about forty-five, awkwardly 
 figured, carrying himself badly, big and uncouth. His 
 clothes, as Errington had predicted, were unfashionably 
 made, and bad at that. He was not far wrong when he 
 called himself " an ugly fellow." It was a rough-hewn 
 face, not of an intellectual type. But his dark eyes 
 were wistful, and he had good teeth. His hands were 
 well shaped. There was something about him that 
 Berenice Uked. 
 
 " I really don't think you are ugly," she said abruptly, 
 a propos of nothing. And then they both laughed 
 again. 
 
 " Don't you, dear ? I am glad you don't." He took 
 her hand again. " You must try and like me all you 
 can. I have not been hked out there. I was not liked 
 much when I was here." 
 
156 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " I know we shall be great friends," slie said. 
 
 Their fiist few hours together endeared them to each 
 other. In some subtle, instinctive way she realised 
 his self-distrust and shyness. Also that he had an 
 aggressive manner, put on to hide those qualities. He 
 spoke abruptly, roughly, to waiter, porter, guard. 
 He was very unlike either men with whom she had been 
 accustomed to travel. 
 
 He would not let Thomas do anything for him. He 
 seemed to resent her having a maid with her. In the 
 smallest matters he was utterly tactless. She found 
 herself studying him. She found herself also, perhaps 
 for the first time since her marriage, a httle secretly 
 uneasy about Errington and his sympathy. 
 
 Of course, the thing could be put in a nutshell, in a 
 sentence, a sentence which could not shape itself in 
 Berenice's mind, but the shadow of which was behind 
 her thoughts. 
 
 Her brother Harry was not a gentleman, had not been 
 used to Uve amongst gentlefolk. It was wonderful 
 how quickly she knew this, and how sorry it made her 
 feel for him. 
 
 Half-way towards London she laid an impulsive 
 hand upon his, and said : 
 
 " You are not going to be vmhappy, Harry, with us ? 
 You are not going to let yourself be unhappy, are you ? " 
 
 " What made you think I should be unhappy ? " 
 
 " When we were not talking, when I was watch- 
 ing your face, you looked it. Have you had a great 
 trouble in your life, something you cannot teU me 
 yet?" 
 
 " No, yes well. ... I can't answer you. Life is 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 157 
 
 very complicated. There, don't ask me any questions, 
 there's a dear. Take me as I am." 
 
 A few hours later, when they were at home, when 
 Harry had been shown his room, and a man had been 
 told off to look after him, Errington, going into Berenice's 
 dressing-room to learn what she thought of her new 
 brother, foimd it very difficult to get her to speak out. 
 Yet, by her apologetic manner, by a certain timorous- 
 nessj new to him in her, he guessed that their newly 
 arrived relative was not going to be an unalloyed 
 pleasure. 
 
 The two men's greeting was characteristic. Erring- 
 ton held out a hearty hand, made a graceful speech, was 
 altogether the host and man of the world. Harry's 
 shyness made his voice surly, his unaccustomedness 
 to the luxury and mode of hfe around him made him 
 even more awkward than was his wont. There seemed 
 an immediate strain and difficulty of conversation. 
 
 The dinner with the three of them was, perhaps, the 
 least congenial and friendly that Prince's Gate had ever 
 seen. In vain Errington plied his guest with wine ; 
 he grew depressed rather than convivial. He tried him 
 with politics. This was the time when Errington had 
 bought Clippham Rise, and had commenced to woo the 
 Kent constituency in the Conservative interest. Harry, 
 it appeared, was a Radical, with anarchical sympathies ! 
 Errington menioned sport. Harry thought cricket, 
 polo, football, all waste of time. He did not know the 
 name of one horse from that of another, when the 
 topic of racing was introduced. He had no idea the 
 Derby was run in May. Errington tried business. 
 Harry thought he was being pumped, apparently, and 
 
158 THE SPHINX'S LAWYEE 
 
 made tlie shortest of replies. He said he did not 
 know anything about " wheat corners." 
 
 Berenice watched them both with increasing dismay. 
 She tried her best to bring them together, putting in a 
 sweet word here and there. She was sure Harry did not 
 mean that he thought aU forms of exercise were waste 
 of time. Of course, he had forgotten about the Derby. 
 And so on. Still it was with a sense of rehef that both 
 men saw her leave the room. It annoyed Harry to 
 think he had forgotten to rise to open the door for her. 
 It redoubled his shyness, his embarrassment, his diffi- 
 cidty in making conversation with his host. 
 
 Errington found himself looking at Harry's clothes, 
 beginning to get amused. What an awful outsider the 
 fellow was ! What an impossible person ! How could 
 the same blood run in his veins as ran in those of the 
 dainty Berenice ? "What the devil should he talk to 
 the fellow about ? 
 
 No, Harry did not play bilhards. He did playcards, but 
 this, of course, was the one thing Errington could not 
 do, or, at least, had never attempted. The climate of 
 Galatz ? Oh, that was all right. Had he suffered 
 from it ? Well, he did not beheve he was going to 
 die yet, if that was what Mr. Kennard meant. 
 
 By the time it had come to this, the antipathy 
 between the two was fairly started. 
 
 Errington took him up to the drawing-room, explained, 
 in as charming a way as possible, that he had a business 
 appointment, and wished him a cordial good-night. 
 
 That evening was typical of many that followed. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 The antipathy between the two men, did not reach 
 its chmax all at once. Errington made an honest 
 attempt to get into touch with his wife's brother, and to 
 find out what, if anything, lay behind the mask of 
 sullenness, moroseness, or, as Berenice assured him, 
 shyness, that made the man so impossible as a companion ; 
 but it became always more difficult. 
 
 Soon Harry was nothing but an incubus to Errington, 
 a something unpleasant that made his home less and 
 less congenial, that threw him always more definitely 
 into the society of the Sphinx. Harry affected him in 
 the same way as a big anthropoid ape would have 
 done ; his ughness, his uncouth movements, made constant 
 inroads on Errington's temper, he even foimd Berenice's 
 affection for her brother revolting. Errington said Harry 
 was as difficult to talk to as if he had been an ape, and was 
 hardly more human. He had always had this strange 
 physical sensitiveness. Harry Annersley began to 
 make Prince's Gate insupportable to its nominal master. 
 The brilliant, genial Bohemian lawyer could make no 
 headway against, or with, this surly watcher on the 
 threshold, and, of course, did himself injustice in his 
 presence. It was difficult to make Berenice understand 
 his feeling ; it was much easier to talk about it to the 
 Sphinx ! He did go into his wife's bedroom one night, 
 
160 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 about three weeks after Harry's arrival, and start the 
 subject. 
 
 " Look here, child, this man's your brother, or your 
 half-brother," he began. And Berenice suddenly found 
 her heart beating rather fast, and she gazed at her 
 husband with startled eyes ; for this was not his wonted 
 manner. She quietly dismissed the maid. " I suppose 
 you are bound to do what you can for him ? " He 
 went on walking about the room irritably. "But for God's 
 sake keep him out of my way. Don't you think you 
 could persuade him to take quarters for himself ? He 
 has got on my nerves to such an extent that I can't eat 
 when he is at the table. You have worked yourself up 
 into thinking you are fond of him — — " 
 
 " Oh, Errie," she interrupted. 
 
 Errington continued his restless peregrinations : 
 
 " But of course it's afiectation — it's simple afiectation. 
 You must know, as well as I do, that the man's an 
 absolute savage. Personally I don't know any society 
 for which he is fit, but that it is not mine, I do know ! 
 He spoils the whole house for me ! The very sight 
 of his black, furtive face in any corner of the room where 
 I am sitting, poisons the atmosphere." 
 
 But then her expression struck him, and he went over 
 to her where she sat at her interrupted toilette, flung 
 his arm about her, and kissed her gently. 
 
 Over her white dressing-] acket the bright luxuriance 
 of her thick hair flowed without restraint. The loose 
 coUar showed the alluring softness of her slender 
 throat. The quick hurt of her quivering hps was as 
 of a child. But the eyes, with the long lashes, were 
 not a child's eyes. Their dark blue was too steady 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 161 
 
 and deep ; it was a woman's soul that shone through 
 them. 
 
 " How the deuce there can be any blood tie between 
 you, is what puzzles me," he said. " But, Berenice," 
 (this half pleadingly), " for your own sake, as well as for 
 mine, get rid of him. I am a curious fellow. Recollect 
 there is a side of me of which you have seen nothing 
 yet. This man provokes all the worst that is in me. 
 I've grown to loathe the sight of him." 
 
 " You want to tell me that if you saw the shadow of a 
 likeness between us, you might come to dislike me too ? " 
 she interrupted, smihng ; " but, of course, I don't beheve 
 it." Still her smile had been a faint one, and her quiver- 
 ing hps had paled. 
 
 " I couldn't do that. There is not a trace of him 
 about you," he said hastily ; " but a man cannot help 
 his nature. Physical sensitiveness is an ingrained vice 
 with me." He took her hand. " Look at that httle 
 white hand of yours ! How on earth can you put it 
 into that hairy fist of his ? How can you let him kiss 
 you, with his unshaven lips ? How can you sit in the 
 same room with him, and hear the way he breathes, see 
 the way he moves, Ksten to what he says, gather what 
 he thinks, and go on with the same placid equanimity 
 of temper ? You don't hke him, you can't hke him ! 
 Berenice, if I were to admit that my opinion of you will 
 suffer if you tell me that you find any point in common, 
 any hnk that binds you to him, what would you say to 
 
 me 
 
 2 
 
 He hfted her off the chair, took her on his knee. 
 Because she loved him, she did not quite beheve him, 
 but thought he was speaking out of the irritation of the 
 
162 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 moment. She nestled closer to him. Her love for him 
 was very reticent, but it was also very passionate and 
 complete. She trusted his love for her, and, of course, 
 did not know, and could not know, the unrehability of 
 his nervous system. 
 
 " I should teU you the truth, Errie, dear, and risk it,'' 
 she said, hiding her affection against his shoulder. " I 
 should tell you that I was really, reaUy fond of him. 
 He is awfuUy good and kind to me ; he is not like him- 
 self with you. He is shy. You don't know what his 
 hfe has been out there — I do, and I make a dozen ex- 
 cuses for him. And then, you see, he was really badly 
 treated by my father. When father brought my mother 
 home, and he saw Harry growing fond of her, he got 
 jealous. Oh, it is a horrid story ! " She nestled closer 
 to him. " Harry was only a boy, and there was no 
 home left for him. He went away when he was only 
 eighteen, and hved abroad for five-and-twenty years. 
 You and he wiU get to know each other, I know 
 that. We don't really think difierently about Harry, 
 or, at least, I am sure we should not, if you would 
 only try to understand him, and not look only on the 
 surface." 
 
 " My dear, it's such a shockingly ugly surface." 
 
 " Don't, Errie ! " 
 
 The scent of her hair, and her slendemess against him, 
 calmed his mood, he forgot to press home his point, 
 that she must get rid of her brother. 
 
 " Well, I suppose the time will come when there will 
 be no black shadow between me and your beauty," he 
 said, as he held her closer. 
 
 " Do you still think me beautiful ? " she answered. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 163 
 
 somewhat wistfully, after a pause for endearments. 
 " Don't you see Harry's features reflected in mine ? " 
 
 " I can't say I do — not even in your eyes, though he 
 must have looked into them often ! You know this 
 half-brothership is a dangerous thing. He is as nearly 
 in love with you as it is in the nature of the animal." 
 
 " Don't say such horrid things, dear ! " 
 
 " I won't. I will only think them." He pressed her 
 head against his shoulder, and sent a Hght kiss thrilling 
 through her hair. 
 
 " Don't you think you are a very brave woman ? 
 Don't you think there is a certain risk in all this freedom 
 you are giving me ? For the last three months it has 
 been you and Harry, with Errington as a bad second. 
 Now, you know, httle woman, that is not my metier. 
 Don't hide your face ; you are to look at me, straight in 
 the eyes. Is this going on ? I'm not jealous, don't 
 misunderstand me. In the ordinary acceptation of the 
 word no woman could make me jealous." 
 
 Then he changed his voice, and its tone was lighter. 
 " But, in order to keep me straight, don't you know, I 
 want a great deal of attention ? You have withdrawn 
 your attention ; suppose I were to wander a httle." 
 
 She laughed happily at that. 
 
 " I am not afraid." 
 
 And quite suddenly he knew she was right. His days 
 of wandering were over. A Httle way, a httle way he 
 might go, but this was the only woman in the world for 
 him ; one that trusted him, asked nothing, beheved in 
 him. 
 
 It was singular that Berenice had such clearness of 
 perception where her brother was concerned, and that 
 
164 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 she should be a httle obtuse regarding her husband. 
 He was shrouded from her always by the thick curtain 
 of her love. 
 
 Because her husband was so sweet to her that night, 
 she thought he repented of his un kindness of thought 
 towards her brother. Because her husband was so 
 perfect in her eyes, and they, she and he, were so com- 
 pletely happy together, she thought it right to be even 
 more tenderly sohcitous of poor Harry ; the hint that 
 by devoting herself to him she jeopardised her position 
 with Errington, she could not heed. Had he not shown 
 her, even in the same breath, how securely she held his 
 love ? And he had friends, pursuits, a thousand interests ; 
 Harry had nothing. Always more of her time and 
 sympathy she gave her brother, and hstened to his 
 growing confidences. 
 
 She heard of that strangely isolated hfe he had led 
 for five-and-twenty self-centred years in Galatz, ever 
 within sight of the brooding chain of the Carpathians. 
 
 Galatz Hes along the river bank. To the river it owes 
 means of existence, its raison d^ctre as a town, its position 
 in the world's commerce. On its frontage are ships 
 discharging and ships loading, foreign agencies, German, 
 Itahan, Greek, French ; timber-yards and wharves. 
 
 Harry, who was tongue-tied in the presence of Erring- 
 ton, conveyed to his sister a vivid picture of the place 
 in which he had spent his days. That river front was 
 tumultuous with transit, a restless, energetic going and 
 coming, was ever at war with the dull stagnation of the 
 Danubian waters. 
 
 Harry Annersley represented the only British firm 
 that had had the enterprise to estabhsh a warehouse, a 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 165 
 
 bank, a definite import and export station, in the poly- 
 glot port. He felt pride in relating liow that business 
 grew and extended under bis direction, opened branches, 
 and absorbed into itself the best mercantile energies of 
 Roumania. 
 
 He took to himself no credit that he did not fully and 
 absolutely deserve. He had made his home in the 
 shabby, ill-built, ill-managed town, but its traditional 
 civic inertia was not disturbed by him. The unpaved 
 roads, alternating mud and dust, the dilapidated houses 
 of brick, faced with crumbUng terra cotta, the streets 
 hghted with oil-lamps, unsafe, unsavoury, and unkempt, 
 owed nothing to his residence there. To make money 
 for Messrs. Fendell and Company, and, incidentally, 
 for himself, was the be-all and end-all of the utilitarian 
 part of his hfe. It was for that he had come, and he had 
 accomphshed it with indomitable industry, with incor- 
 ruptible integrity, with imdeniable abihty. 
 
 He had worn through the severe winters, the hot, oppres- 
 sive summers, and forgotten what spring was Uke. He had 
 withstood, though not quite harmlessly, the cold easterly 
 winds that blow over the vast plains of Asiatic Russia, 
 IdUing oS in their hundreds the Roumanian peasants 
 in their half-subterranean hovels. He had suffered 
 without complaint his isolation from civihsation in 
 the midst of pohtical unrest, and the constant menace 
 of European comphcations. 
 
 For five-and-twenty years he had watched the har- 
 vests grow and ripen, and seen the big ships, laden with 
 their rich freights, ghde grandly down the Danube on 
 the way to England. Without impost or check, the 
 golden store, harvested from a soil that hardly needs 
 
166 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 the plough, was poured on to our English shores, and 
 our unhappy Enghsh farmers, handicapped by storm and 
 difficulty, were hurried downhill on their road to ruin 
 by the avalanche Harry's hands had precipitated. But 
 his outlook was quite narrow and bounded by his ambi- 
 tion. His mind lay barren in ledgers and account books. 
 
 He had grown rich, and always richer. He had 
 become a partner where he had been an office boy. He 
 had risen steadily, slowly, surely, in the place for which 
 he had been marked out. 
 
 But, in truth, his rise was merely material. If there 
 had been an inteUectuahty to cultivate, it remained 
 uncultivated. In Galatz there were no books, there 
 were no companions, there was no motive to raise his 
 life from the sordidness in which he had gradually, per- 
 haps somewhat from force of circumstances, immersed 
 himself. 
 
 Thus far his history was all clear reading. What 
 Berenice had to do in order to understand him, was to 
 penetrate beyond it, into the man himself. There she 
 would have found the clue to his tendency to morose - 
 ness, his infehcity in his attitude towards his equals, his 
 lack of geniaHty and tact. He had made no friends 
 amongst the easy happy-go-lucky, kindly and hospitable 
 householders, by whom he was surrounded. He had 
 made few even amongst the weU-to-do merchants or 
 traders with whom he might have been expected to 
 consort. The consciousness of his scanty education, the 
 remembrance of his cramped and narrow early years, 
 and a deeper consciousness of moral unfitness, to which 
 he sometimes vaguely alluded, had made him shrink 
 from society. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 167 
 
 The detail of his moral unfitness he had not fully 
 confided to his sister. He had kept comparatively silent, 
 too, over the episode in his career that marked its in- 
 ception. 
 
 They sat and talked in the morning while Berenice 
 worked ; they drove together, talking, in the afternoons. 
 And many evenings when Errington went out, with a 
 graceful apology and allusion to " business appoint- 
 ments," they had continued the conversation, which to 
 Harry, at least, never proved tedious. Berenice became 
 gradually cognisant that there had been an incident in his 
 life to which much that was, and had been, imsatisfactory 
 in it was to be attributed, and, gradually too, she was 
 made aware of the crude outhne of that incident. 
 
 Ten years ago, it appeared, her brother had gone from 
 Galatz on a rare hohday to Bucharest. There he had 
 met another representative of Messrs. FendeU and 
 Company, who was travelhng on business ; and this man, 
 a freckled and carroty German, imder-sized, inferior, 
 unpleasant, had been accompanied by a graceful and 
 beautiful wife. 
 
 Berenice was so sympathetic, Harry so unused to the 
 unwonted Ixixury of a confidante, that he was unable to 
 conceal from her the way in which this couple had 
 affected him. The man was so vulgar, crude, impossible ; 
 the woman so intellectual, refined, charming. He did 
 not disguise that he had conceived a sudden and uncon- 
 trollable passion for his colleague's wife. It became 
 obvious that he beheved she fuUy responded to it. The 
 month in Bucharest had been made memorable to both 
 of them by what had occurred. Finally, she had left 
 her husband, and gone with him when he returned to 
 
168 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Galatz. Then came the tragedy. After a week of 
 rapture her husband had followed. 
 
 Berenice could not completely comprehend the posi- 
 tion. To take such a step as Elsa Beethoven had taken, 
 and then to repent it, seemed to her incredible. 
 Briefly, Elsa Beethoven had surveyed the possibiUties 
 of hfe with Harry Annesley in this out-of-the-way place, 
 and had accepted the forgiveness that her husband had 
 offered her conditionally on her return with him to 
 England. When the moment for decision arrived, she 
 had talked emotionally of her children. Harry, then 
 and always, truly beheved she was sacrificing herself 
 and him for her children. He could not oppose her 
 conscientious scruples, his own conscience would not 
 permit it. But it was his first, last, only, ghmpse of the 
 ideal. He had loved her with the best that was in him, 
 given her up when he thought that was her highest 
 demand upon him, become for her sake unselfish, even 
 fine. 
 
 It was a blurred picture wanting illumination, the 
 lights and shades needed touching in by a master hand. 
 Errington could have effected this, no doubt ; those that 
 his wife put in, made it rather grotesque. But then, 
 Berenice saw Elsa Beethoven as Harry had seen her at 
 the moment ; a woman, ill- wedded in her youth, sacri- 
 ficing the love that came to her in her maturity for her 
 duty to her marriage vow and her children. 
 
 For Harry, although Errington found him so coarse, 
 although the artificial refinements of hfe were new to 
 him, had that in him which prevented him letting his 
 sister thoroughly reahse what had been his relations with 
 Mrs. Beethoven. There were episodes that were sacred 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 169 
 
 to Harry. Berenice's mind did not take her beyond 
 that which was told her. 
 
 In any case, she was desperately sorry that her brother 
 had been in love with a married woman. It seemed 
 very sad and painful to her, she was wonderfully 
 tender over him. When he let her reaUse that his hfe 
 in Galatz, after Elsa Beethoven had left him had not 
 been one upon which he could look back with unalloyed 
 pride, she could but sympathise with him. Her mind 
 was pure, she asked for no details, and dreamt of none. 
 
 In truth, Harry did not want her to know more than 
 he had told her. For, unhappily, with all Ms moroseness 
 and unsociable temper, he had, after the Beethoven 
 incident, discovered in himself, as he grew in 
 physical strength and material prosperity, that which, 
 when it occurs in artists is called " a tempera- 
 ment," but which, when it is merely the expression of the 
 common desires of common men, is condemned as 
 " a taste for dissipation." And Galatz offered many 
 opportunities. If it were possible to make a scale of 
 towns graduated according to their immorahty, Galatz 
 would figure out a degree or two lower than Budapest. 
 
 Harry Annersley's dissipations added nothing to his 
 happiness. His tastes and his desires were ever at war 
 with his character. It was a battle-ground of opposing 
 forces, and all his days were fuU of shamed and defeated 
 resolutions. 
 
 Ingrained in him, notwithstanding his appetites, was 
 a certain puritanism, a certain ineradicable, if inarticu- 
 late, yearning for a wholly British respectabihty. His 
 ever-growing aggressiveness, his distrust of his feUow 
 men, was merely the outcome of the war between his 
 
170 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 passions and liis prejudices. He disliked those who 
 succumbed to his own temptations ; the excuses he 
 found for himself never fitted their cases. He distrusted 
 too, those who had never fallen, suspecting them of a 
 reticence even greater than his own. 
 
 A constant succession of the most sordid entangle- 
 ments alternated with his serious business hours. No 
 man could grow amidst such surroundings as Annersley 
 gathered about him. 
 
 When, at length, the time came for him to leave 
 Galatz, he decided that he would turn a new page 
 in his history when he reached England. Once his 
 face was set for home, the strands that bound him 
 to his baser self would be sundered. In England he 
 would be out of sight of the pitfalls into which he had 
 stumbled, he would make his final emergence from 
 the ego that lay behind his fine commercial record, as 
 the dirty town lay behind the utihtarian frontage, and the 
 clean river causeway. 
 
 He thought he had closed the book of the hfe which 
 lay behind him when the vessel steamed from the 
 Danube into the Black Sea, and that there would 
 be no woman, in the days that were before him, but 
 the dear half-sister who would welcome his home- 
 coming. 
 
 But he reckoned without the factors. A series of 
 coincidences made all his plans for a new hfe abortive. 
 Incidentally, of course, he had not reckoned with the 
 antipathy which had so rapidly arisen between himself 
 and his sister's husband. 
 
 For many days after that conversation with his wife, 
 Errington avoided the subject of Harry. But he also 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 171 
 
 avoided his companionsHp ; and that meant avoiding 
 his home. The strange terrible death the Sphinx was 
 so slowly dying still left her rare intervals of brilhant 
 intuition and social capacity. One of these intervals 
 synchronising with Harry's sojourn at Prince's Gate, 
 Brrington was able to spend his spare time with her. 
 It was not unnatural that she fostered his ill-humour 
 with his brother-in-law's presence, seeing that she gained 
 through it the companionship which meant so much to 
 her. 
 
 She grew less Sphinx-hke in those days, more human. 
 She showed Brrington more of her heart. Perhaps she felt 
 her isolation from tenderness, from woman friends. Her 
 pride had bled to death, it was a pale and attenuated 
 thing now; she coidd let Errington see its hngering 
 throbs of death agony. He was infinitely moved by 
 her, and could deny her nothing. 
 
 It is more than possible he would have spoken to 
 Berenice of his visits to Hans Place, enlisting her sweet and 
 ready sympathy ; but, hke all sensitive persons, his con- 
 fidential moments were few, spasmodic, difS.cult. And 
 Harry was always to the fore. 
 
 The moment when matters reached their inevitable 
 chmax between the two men was unfortunate; but 
 that it was inevitable is clear. 
 
 It had been the Kennard's habit to celebrate their 
 wedding anniversary with a dinner and reception, and 
 this year was to be no exception to the rule. Errington, 
 for once, looked forward with no pleasure to the function. 
 Harry's presence had really become an obsession with 
 him. Genial and brilhant host as he had always been, 
 Harry cramped and paralysed his efforts. 
 
172 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Already, to-night, when he entered the diawing-room, 
 his fine head and tall figure shown off by his studied 
 evening-dress, the expanse of white shirt with its 
 be-gemmed studs, the double-breasted white waistcoat, 
 with its jewelled buttons, accentuating his remarkable 
 personahty, his sense of well-being was jarred by the 
 sight of Harry Annesley, uncouth, on the hearthrug, 
 with his ill-fitting clothes, and square-toed, hideous 
 patent boots. 
 
 " Who's coming to-night ? " Harry asked, without 
 moving. " You're rather ' got up ' aren't you ? All 
 nobs, I suppose." 
 
 " A few friends of my wife's and mine," answered 
 Errington stifHy. "I am sorry you don't approve my 
 clothes. I suppose Galatz rather rarefied your taste." 
 
 " Only the foreigners wore jewellery. Those buttons 
 of yours, now — I wouldn't wear them if you gave me a 
 hundred pounds." 
 
 " Your disapproval distresses me." Errington knew 
 he was unduly irritated, that Harry Annesley's opinion 
 did not matter ; but he could not control his annoy- 
 ance. 
 
 " Oh ! I don't mind." Harry meant to be soothing, and 
 friendly. The antipathy was chiefly on Errington's side. 
 " It only struck me as you came in that you looked 
 rather showy. Anything in the papers ? " 
 
 " Nothing about grain." 
 
 Harry, to whom Errington's type of sensitiveness 
 was completely unknown, had no conception of the 
 strength of the other's dishke of him. Had he known, 
 he would have been unable to reaUse how purely physical 
 it was at source. For himself, he admired the lawyer's 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 173 
 
 good looks and aplonib, although he was beginning to 
 notice his frequent absences from home. What he 
 knew of the ugly side of hfe made him quickly suspicious. 
 Errington had admitted to him one day, that, when he 
 went out of an evening, it was to visit a lady chent. 
 Already he was making up his mind to speak to Erring- 
 ton about it, to give him his experiences, to utter a 
 warning word ! 
 
 To the imphcation that, if there was nothing in the 
 papers about grain, there was nothing that could interest 
 him, he made the rejoinder that it was as well to be 
 interested in grain as in women. He thought that was 
 a deUcate way of beginning the subject. 
 
 " Well, I should not think that women had ever 
 interested you greatly ! " Errington rephed insolently, 
 with intention. 
 
 Harry's red face grew a httle redder. It is an accusa- 
 tion every man resents, but Harry did not resent it. He 
 began a confused rejoinder that was meant to lead up to 
 that warning word, when the entrance of Berenice inter- 
 rupted him. 
 
 Berenice was exquisite in white satin, and rose point. 
 Her beauty filled both men with pride and satisfaction, 
 and arrested and diverted their attention from each 
 other. 
 
 " Paquin ? " asked Errington, advancing to meet her. 
 
 " That's a fine dress," said Harry admiringly. 
 
 " I am glad you hke it. It came from Jay's." 
 
 She answered both men at once. There were pearls 
 intertwisted in the coils of her radiant hair, the 
 white dress with its dehcate dccolletage revealed her 
 creamy throat and bust; a rope of pearls, Harry's 
 
174 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 wedding present, and a filmy Cartier brooch, were all the 
 jewels she wore. She moved about the drawing-room, 
 as if she were in homespim, touching a flower here, 
 altering a vase there, talking hghtly the while about 
 her day's occupations, making the whole atmosphere 
 home-Uke. 
 
 It was a beautiful drawing-room now; the walls were 
 painted transparently, the colour of jade, a few rare land- 
 scapes byHokusai and Ontamaro hung upon them, un- 
 crowded and unique. On the lac cabinets were Ming 
 bowls, holding each a few tall lilies, without foliage. The 
 electric hght was softened and concealed, the black 
 draperies hung, simple and severe, as backgrounds to bril- 
 liant embroideries, and cushions of flowered crcfe. There 
 was no flaw in the taste of the room, and it was unhke 
 any other. It had its distinct, its characteristic, expres- 
 sion. On quaint-carved tables were Buddha's in gold, 
 and in bronze, and jade, in aU sizes and postures, a 
 collection which had taken Errington half a hfetime to 
 bring together. 
 
 " Why do you have these heathen gods about ? They 
 are very ugly, out of keeping in a London drawing-room. 
 I wish you'd let me refurnish this room for you. I have 
 never given you a proper wedding present, Kennard. 
 I passed Waring's to-day, and that made me think 
 of it. I went in and saw some of the rooms they had 
 got up. What do you say ! " 
 
 Fortunately Harry did not hear what Errington said, 
 for the guests had begun to arrive. Soon the room was 
 fuU, and everybody was talking, the note of gaiety 
 was struck at once. It was a new world to Harry, he 
 resented its smartness, its up-to-date manner and epi- 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 175 
 
 gram, its ease and free-masonry of understanding. He 
 felt an outsider amongst these people. 
 
 Berenice had arranged for him to take Lady Melrose 
 into dinner, and Lady Melrose was a little deaf. A 
 continuous trickle of society smaU-talk saved her from 
 the trouble of trying to hsten to what was said to her. 
 But, in the intervals whilst she ate, Harry foimd his 
 opportunities to blunder. 
 
 Across the table decorations, the white Sevres figures, 
 holding traihng branches of smilax and pink roses, the 
 Georgian candlesticks with their grey wide shades, 
 across all that exquisite napery, cut glass, and antique 
 silver, Errington heard Harry's raised and gutteral 
 voice. Words and sentences penetrated, presently it 
 seemed to him as if the whole table was hushed to 
 Hsten to his incongruous brother-in-law. 
 
 Harry had said that he knew nothing, and cared less, 
 about racing, that he thought Kruger had been quite 
 right in making a stand against the encroachments of 
 the Englishmen, that the test match did not interest 
 him, cricket was a stupid game, and football worse ; 
 why weren't school-boys taught French and German, in- 
 stead of wasting their time ? 
 
 Errington heard all this. Lady Melrose kept on her 
 fixed society smile, the amiable acquiescent smile of the 
 cultured deaf, and apparently agreed with all that he said. 
 And Harry felt that he was "getting on all right." 
 
 Unfortunately, Lady Melrose's conversational refer- 
 toire included current literature, the hterature of the book- 
 stalls and the weekly papers. They were at the stage 
 of ices when Errington's nerves gave a premonitory 
 shiver, as he heard her say : 
 
176 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " Have you read ' Out of the Depths ? ' — everybody is 
 talking about it. Shockin', isn't it ? So sad too ! 
 I was at the first night of Lady CMselmore's Lace Coat. 
 We thought we were goin' to be bored. He was so 
 clever. And really clever people never can write books 
 or plays, can they 1 It's hke expectin' tradesmen to 
 play Bridge, so incongruous. But Algernon never was 
 like anybody else. This book now — did you say you 
 had read it ? " 
 
 " No. I havn't read the book, nor seen the play, 
 and don't want to. I'm surprised you mentioned 
 Algernon Heseltine's name." 
 
 " What ? I beg your pardon. What did you say ? " 
 She bent more forward to hsten. " I am a httle deaf," 
 she said. 
 
 Across the table , every one heard the harsh voice 
 reply : 
 
 " I said the man and his works were unmentionable. 
 They and he, ought to have been burned by the common 
 hangman." 
 
 Of course Errington should have held his peace, the 
 observations were not addressed to him, he had no 
 right to interfere. 
 
 " Do you mind, Annesley, not speaking of Algernon 
 Heseltine, in that way, here ? He was an intimate friend 
 of mine." 
 
 Errington's voice was ominous, his eyes were dangerous. 
 
 " Then you oughtn't to admit it. I maintain my 
 opinion. It's an outrage on decency to mention his 
 name, he ought to have been burnt at the stake." Harry 
 forgot the occasion, and his audience. 
 
 The whole spirit and tone of conviviality were spoiled. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 177 
 
 For a moment a dead silence reigned. Everybody 
 knew Kennard's connection with the Heseltine case, 
 by tacit consent no one had talked of it since his marriage. 
 The years had gone by since Algernon suffered, and died. 
 It was the fashion now to ignore everything of Algernon 
 Heseltine but his talents. Harry's speech broke every 
 one of the social conventions, it was ill-timed, aggressive, 
 unnecessary. 
 
 Berenice, with her instinctive tact, threw herself into 
 the gap of silence and made a move, although dessert 
 was only just being handed round, and the cofiee had not 
 made its appearance. 
 
 The rustle of skirts, the sound of the chairs being 
 pushed back, the bustle and circumstance of the ladies' 
 departure, cut short whatever rejoinder Brrington might 
 have been tempted to make. But, in the glance she 
 took at him, Berenice recognised the danger signal in 
 his eyes. As he held the door open, she found oppor- 
 tunity to smile deprecatingly, to say under her breath, 
 " Harry did not know you knew him ; " she was alarmed 
 by the want of response. 
 
 When the men took their seats again, round the 
 disordered table, moving nearer to each other in custom- 
 ary sociabiUty, Errington made an effort to appear as if 
 nothing had happened. He took hurried part in the 
 talk that immediately started, of the coming election, 
 and the Conservative chances. He wanted to avert a 
 scene, and yet was conscious of a momentary want of 
 self-control. 
 
 But Harry Annesley, satisfied of the justice of his 
 sentiments, convinced of their popularity, glad, perhaps, 
 of the opportunity of proving himself able to join in 
 
 M 
 
178 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 general conversation with these smart friends of the 
 Kennards, was not to be suppressed. 
 
 He addressed his host, for all the friends of his brother- 
 in-law were strangers to him. 
 
 " You know I'm right about Algernon Heseltine, 
 Kennard, even if you did meet him once or twice ; Lady 
 Melrose couldn't have known what she was talking 
 about. This book ought never to have been pubhshed. 
 I havn't read it, but I'm sure it's disgusting and filthy." 
 
 " If you had a miUionth part of Algernon Heseltine's 
 genius, you might venture to sit in judgment on him." 
 
 Errington's voice had grown harsh, and the red spot in 
 each cheek had deepened, but he struggled to keep 
 himself in hand. Sir John Desmond intervened, he 
 was an old man, but distinguished, one who was hstened 
 to with respect on all subjects in any audience. He 
 said slowly, gazing through his glasses at Harry : 
 
 " There is no human error, no human crime, that is, 
 or should be, outside human sympathy. Heseltine's 
 sanity was more than doubtful. He had, too, an un- 
 fortunate family history, and ineradicable hereditary 
 predispositions. He suSered very bitterly " 
 
 " A thousand times more than an ordinary man," 
 interpolated Lord Melrose, who knew how it was with 
 his host. 
 
 " More than an ordinary man," accepted Sir John, 
 " his expiation was very complete. We can safely pay 
 Mm our tribute of pity." 
 
 Harry rose, or sank, to the occasion. 
 
 " I don't agree with you. He was an outrage and 
 a horror, no punishment could have been sufficiently 
 severe for him. I am surprised to hear decent men 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 179 
 
 taking his part. I don't know wliat sort of company 
 I'm in. . . ." 
 
 A sort of murmur went round the table, one or two 
 men half rose : 
 
 " Whatever company you are in," said Errington, 
 the flush very pronounced, the hght in his eyes flaming, 
 "would very gladly dispense with yours." 
 
 " What do you mean ? I don't know what you 
 mean ? " Harry rose too. 
 
 " I mean you have insulted me, my guests, my friends. 
 Now you can clear out. I'll have no man eat at my 
 table who bespatters the memory of my dead friend." 
 His emotion almost overpowered his speech. 
 
 Harry, dumfounded, faced him with astonished eyes ; 
 he was enchained momentarily by the other's magnetic 
 personality, caught in the whirlwind of a passion to the 
 source of which he had no clue. 
 
 " You can't mean what you say, you can't mean you 
 think differently from all men about Algernon Heseltine ; 
 it's incredible, I can't believe it." He looked round the 
 table for the sympathy he still expected. 
 
 "I mean I cannot, and will not, sit any longer in 
 the same room with you." Errington forgot his 
 guests, and committed his first and last breach in the 
 laws of hospitality. He had been standing, now he 
 went to the door. 
 
 "Will you go ; or shall I ? " he said, flinging it open. 
 The concentration of his rage made his voice low. 
 Harry, almost unconsciously, had moved slowly towards 
 him, and now it was a question which should yield, 
 which of those two men facing each other should go 
 through that open door. Harry Annersley was used 
 
180 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 to tempestuous dealings with excitable foreigners, lie 
 was a big man, and no coward. 
 
 " You will be sorry for this, Kennard," he said, quite 
 quietly, ''you will be sorry when you come to yourself. 
 You turn me from your house on account of a . . . " 
 
 But the word never passed his lips. 
 
 " You . . . you dare to say it ! " 
 
 Harry's hand was on the door now. 
 
 " Very well, I'll not say it, I'll go." 
 
 He gained rather than lost in dignity of bearing, 
 although he was ordered out of his brother-in-law's 
 house, turned from his table ignominiously. 
 
 It was Errington who was ashamed when the door 
 was closed behind Harry, and he was left to face his 
 guests. He could not quickly regain his self-posses- 
 sion, although almost before he began to realize 
 how iU he had behaved to his other guests, to him- 
 self, the traces had been covered up with convention. 
 Every one had begun to talk at once, and unanimously, 
 of other things, the flavour of the cigars was commented 
 upon, and the crops compared with those before the war. 
 Stephen Deane related one of his Cuban adventures, 
 and Sir John resumed his election gossip. Presently, 
 Errington recovered himself sufficiently to support them ; 
 but every one was glad to join the ladies. 
 
 It was a most unfortunate and awkwardly timed 
 incident. The talk would be all over London to-morrow ; 
 how some one had attacked Algernon Heseltine at the 
 Kennard's, and how the lawyer had defended him. 
 These things never sleep, it was impossible to expect 
 ten men to keep a secret. Public opinion would be in 
 Harry's favour, pubhc opinion and private so seldom 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 181 
 
 coincide. The "unspeakable," "indefensible" atti- 
 tude that Annesley had taken up would be the one that 
 would find sympathy. Errington had jeopardised his 
 chance for the Kent constituency to-night. He knew 
 that, remembered it when the last of their guests had 
 departed, and he and Berenice were alone in their 
 beautiful strange room. 
 
 " Have you seen your brother yet ? " he began. 
 " No, he didn't come upstairs with the others. Where 
 is he, is there anything the matter with him ? You 
 havn't quarrelled ? Oh ! Errie ! " 
 
 " I turned him out of the room ; I suppose he has had 
 the decency to leave the house." 
 " Turned him out of the room ? " 
 " It was bound to come to it." 
 " My — my brother ! — ^your — your guest ! " 
 How could he justify himself to her, or to himself ? 
 Yet his temper was hardly calmer, his irritation no less 
 acute. He fell into silence. How could he expect his 
 wife to imderstand how he felt about Algernon Heseltine ? 
 There was only one woman who could imderstand him, 
 who had ever understood him. 
 
 "No one shall speak ill of Algernon Heseltine in my 
 house." 
 
 "But Harry did not know. Where is he now ? What 
 has become of him ? " 
 
 She was uncertain of her words, her thoughts. Her 
 heart went out to Harry, turned out of the house, his 
 sister's house. Yet Errington could do no wrong. 
 She was his wife, and would support whatever he did. 
 She tried to say so, but her agitation made it so difficult 
 to speak. Errington must know she would support 
 
182 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 him. But over Harry, in Ms disgrace, she yearned 
 already, poor friendless Harry ! 
 
 Errington was in no mood to discuss' himself, or 
 Harry, with Berenice. It was the Sphinx he wanted, 
 who would understand without words ; Berenice's emo- 
 tion only annoyed him, her paUor and dismay were 
 all for her abominable brother. The knowledge of his 
 own unpardonable conduct made it impossible to for- 
 give her dismay. 
 
 " I'm going out for an hour, I can't discuss it; " he 
 said abruptly, "don't sit up for me. Good- night ! " 
 
 But she had not meant to discuss. Did he not know 
 that whatever he did would be right in her eyes ? She 
 only wanted time. 
 
 " I'm sure he — he behaved badly " 
 
 " I can't talk to-night." Already his heart failed_him 
 a httle over the harshness of his words. " Let me go 
 out, dear, I must be alone. God ! How I hate the 
 fellow ! I can't talk." 
 
 He was out of the house, the street door had rever- 
 berated from his hurried exit, before she had found the 
 words to teU him that whatever he had done or said, 
 whether he had been in the right or the wrong, she was 
 his loving and loyal wife, she could not argue or question 
 his conduct. She had not the words to tell him then, 
 although she found them later. 
 
 For Harry she felt an overwhelming pity. She knew, 
 whatever he had said, whatever had occurred, he had 
 meant no harm. She was sorry for him, she pictured him, 
 quite truly, immeasurably distressed and bewildered. 
 
 But Errington was her heart's lord, and her heart 
 followed him into the night. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 The Sphinx was fully sympathetic. Errington could 
 not tell her exactly what had occurred, but it was not 
 difficidt for her to divine it, and him. She could always 
 fall in with his moods; her influence over him, and 
 over all men, had its explanation in her capacity for 
 sinking her individuality into theirs, for making herself 
 a magic mirror in which they saw their virtues magnified, 
 their faults blurred and insignificant. She made Erring- 
 ton note his own fine and unswerving loyalty ; whilst 
 he was with her he saw nothing else. 
 
 But, in the week that followed the dinner-party, he 
 had his alternate moods. In common with many men 
 whose hearts and brains are antagonistic, he found 
 it difficult to reconcile his conduct with either of them. 
 Berenice, notwithstanding that she had her own diffi- 
 culties to surmount, subordinated them to his. She 
 saw he was out of tune, and tried to restore harmony to 
 him. She was so purely and sweetly feminine, that she 
 persuaded herself, and almost persuaded him, that he 
 was out of health. The commissariat of the house, 
 always good, was refined and elaborated, his appetite 
 was tempted with turtle, and the town ransacked 
 for delicacies, the cellars were made to yield up 
 their rareties. His irritability was met with tender- 
 ness, with smiles that were almost caresses, that would 
 
184 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 have been caresses, but tbat she had tact as well as 
 love. 
 
 He was quite conscious of the way he was being 
 treated, but it hardly made matters better for him. He 
 had ever found it difficult to talk of what he most 
 deeply felt. Only the Sphinx held the key to his speech. 
 He was worse than dumb to Berenice, for his words were 
 distorted words, born of his self-disgust. He was too 
 innately hospitable not to resent his own conduct to 
 Harry, but he was too human not to resent even more 
 deeply that which had caused it. And, though he appre- 
 ciated, and understood, aU Berenice was trying to 
 convey to him aU through that difficult week, he could 
 not, was hterally unable to, open himself out to her. 
 The words were strangled in his throat as they rose. 
 The whole incident sickened him more and more in the 
 retrospect, it must get itself forgotten in his house. 
 
 Berenice made her eSorts, also brave eSorts, to let 
 him know her sympathy ; but that also, even whilst he 
 appreciated it, he resented. He shut himself up against 
 her. Yet this was the very time he wanted her 
 most, when she might have been of most use to 
 him. 
 
 For, with the strange fatahty of untoward circum- 
 stances, the claim of the past became a clamour this 
 week, and, at his weakest, temptation under disguise, and 
 with masked batteries, assailed him irresistibly. 
 
 It was two or three days after the dinner-party 
 when he mentioned Harry to his wife. But they had 
 been memorable days, and only half of him was at the 
 breakfast-table when he asked Berenice : 
 
 " Well ! have you seen your brother yet ? " 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 185 
 
 " Yes, dear. Last night, when I heard you were not 
 coining home, I went over to him. I told him I should 
 tell you I had been. I hope you don't mind. I didn't 
 find him well, or happy." 
 
 She was glad the silence was broken through, she 
 Wanted to teU him with whom her sympathies lay, to beg 
 him not to shut her out of his confidence. 
 
 " Why shouldn't you see him ? Why should I wish to 
 prevent you seeing him 1 Gaze your fill on him, why 
 not ? Where has he gone ? To the Zoo ? I suppose 
 he is in a cage marked A Black Galatzian {very rare 
 and fine), and the pubhc are alternately feeding him with 
 buns and prodding him with sticks." 
 
 " He has taken a furnished suite in the Albany," she 
 answered simply, ignoring all but his question, anxious 
 nevertheless not to change the topic. 
 
 " Why not Houndsditch ? " 
 
 " He is really sorry that he vexed you." 
 
 " Oh, damn him and his sorrow." 
 
 " He has a nasty cough. I want him to go to Italy 
 for the winter. I found him quite depressed." 
 
 Errington pushed his coffee cup away irritably. He 
 had started the subject, but hated it. 
 
 " I suppose I must go down to Hurstbridge this after- 
 noon. I wish I had never agreed to become a candidate. 
 I'm so full up with work, I don't know where to turn," 
 he said irrelevantly. She followed his lead : 
 
 " I saw Mr Trefusis yesterday." (He was their election 
 agent.) " He is very hopeful of your chance. He says 
 none of them have heard you speak." 
 
 " He is an ass. Men do not vote one side or another 
 because of a good or a bad speech." 
 
186 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " But you are so exceptional." 
 
 " I wish I had not agreed to stand." 
 
 She came round to him where he sat, put a wifely 
 hand gently on his shoulder : 
 
 " Isn't the coSee good, dear ? I wish you would try 
 cocoa for a few mornings, or grape nuts, I am sure you 
 are run down." 
 
 He settled himself in his chair, looking up at her, not 
 unMndly : 
 
 " Why don't you leave me to myself ? " 
 
 She laid a gentle kiss on his forehead. 
 
 " You are unhappy, and not very well. Isn't that 
 reason enough ? " she said. 
 
 " Let me get through my troubles in my own way, 
 there's a dear girl. It isn't only the haK-bred half- 
 brother," He couldn't help hurting her, his nerves tricked, 
 him into it. " I've a great deal on my mind just now. 
 Let me alone; that is the best thing for me, for you 
 too. Of course, go and see him whenever you hke. 
 I've no feeling about it, only don't let him prejudice you 
 against me, against us, or teach you his narrow views." 
 He pulled her down to him, kissed her hghtly, then dis- 
 missed the topic. 
 
 She began to speak, hesitated, left it unsaid. She 
 busied herself a Uttle about his breakfast, talking of new 
 dishes that the chef must try for him. 
 
 Errington had, indeed, his mind and hands full. 
 
 At the instance of the Sphinx he had taken in hand a 
 case which already presented itself full of difficulties. It 
 was not his will to be ungracious to his wife. But, in 
 undertaking this new case which had been brought to him, 
 he knew he was running counter to her interests ; her 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 187 
 
 best social interests. He wanted her countenance, but 
 could not bring liimself to ask for it. 
 
 It was what he had feared, it was the claim which the 
 Sphinx, — the past, had made, and was making. What he 
 was doing was unfair. He could not be his normal self 
 to his wife, whilst he knew his action was unfair to her. 
 
 " Did he try to prejudice you against me ? " he asked 
 again. 
 
 " You know how impossible that would be," she said 
 gently. " And so does he," she added softly. 
 
 " Then you admit he tried ? " he asked, smiling 
 satirically. 
 
 She hesitated again, but had the courage to reply 
 frankly. 
 
 " I don't know for what crime Algernon Heseltine 
 was convicted. You told me yourself, you recollect, 
 before we were married, that every one who had been 
 associated with him was suspect, treated as if they, too, 
 were lepers. That is aU Harry says, what you told me 
 all the world said. He did not try to prejudice me 
 against you, it would have been ridiculous." 
 
 Her colour rose at the very notion, and the hand on 
 the back of his chair trembled, her heart beat a Uttle 
 faster than usual, she could not keep back from him 
 a Httle doubt which had been in her mind, but which she 
 had not let Harry see. 
 
 " But he did ask me to use my influence to keep you 
 from going too often to see Sybil Heseltine, from being 
 associated with her in the pubhc mind. Mrs. Beeth- 
 oven was with Harry ; I think she had been talking to 
 him of you and Algernon Heseltine, a horrid woman. 
 She asked me to go and see her. She said you 
 
188 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 were an old friend of hers, that you had been with 
 her all yesterday morning ! She called you ' Erring- 
 ton,' and spoke of you as if you were her intimate " 
 
 She could not go on. She had never questioned him, 
 never been jealous of him; but she must not keep 
 anything back from him. Perhaps her voice was wist- 
 ful, or the trembling hand conveyed to him that she 
 asked for reassurance. He put his hand over hers. 
 
 " So you met Elsa Beethoven ! How did she come to 
 know your brother ? " 
 
 " Her husband was with the Fendells years ago. 
 Harry met her in Bucharest." 
 
 " Oh yes, of course. I had forgotten. Beethoven 
 travelled for the Fendells before he went on the Stock 
 Exchange; horrible httle cad, but not as bad as his 
 wife." 
 
 She raised her head ; he saw the sudden gladness in 
 her candid eyes, and laughed at her : 
 
 " You Uttle dufEer. Did Elsa Beethoven really per- 
 suade you we were great friends ? " 
 
 " Yesterday morning ? " 
 
 " Yesterday morning ! Ah ! thereby hangs a tale. 
 I've no time to tell it you just now." 
 
 He rose, and glanced at the clock. 
 
 " I must be at your friend Elsa's by 10.30." 
 
 But he wouldn't tease her. Her face had fallen, and 
 he was never cruel, only neurotic. 
 
 " She has a young fellow staying with her, a nephew 
 by marriage. He has got into a bad scrape, and I'm trying 
 to help him out. There, is that enough to reassure you ? 
 I doa't go there to see Elsa Beethoven. She is a woman 
 I completely detest. To pass her in the hall, and that, 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 189 
 
 by the way, was all I saw of her yesterday morning, 
 makes me shudder. She is a dangerous lying reptile of a 
 woman; you may tell your brother so from me, if you 
 hke." 
 
 It was a thousand pities that Harry Annesley had 
 chosen this particular psychological moment to open 
 his batteries on Errington's position with the Heseltines. 
 The Kent election bothered him; it was so easy to 
 throw mud, he wished now he had not allowed himself 
 to be nominated. Yet he owed it to his wife to take 
 advantage of his opportunities. 
 
 He wanted to tell Berenice about the Sphinx's claim. 
 But Harry's iU-timed remonstrance and question made 
 it impossible. He had been from home nearly all the 
 week. How could he tell her just now in what manner 
 he had spent his time 1 Yet what choice had he 
 had, what possible choice ? 
 
 This was the note that had been brought to him, the 
 very morning after he had sought the Sphinx for com- 
 fort over his behaviour to Harry. Always she had 
 given him sympathy, understanding; how could he 
 refuse anything to her ? He could never get free from 
 the tie of the past. 
 
 " Dear Ereington, — Put everything aside and come 
 to me. I must see you, don't delay. I want you to do 
 something for me. You are so splendid, I know you 
 won't hesitate, I depend upon you. 
 
 " Yours ever, 
 
 Sybil." 
 
 And, at the expense of his lunch hour; he had obeyed 
 the summons. 
 
190 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " I knew you would come," she said, "dear Errington, 
 you never fail me, do you ? " 
 
 She was immobile on that sofa now. The paralysis 
 had crept and crept, until from waist downwards she 
 was already dead. But she was the same Sybil. 
 
 " You don't mind my not running downstairs to meet 
 you, do you 1 Of course, it is fearfully inattentive. 
 But there is more style, more dignity, in the rechning 
 position, don't you think ? And this cushion is a new 
 shade of blue. Do you find it suits my hair ? Because, 
 if not, I must try a new shade of hair; I can't part 
 with the cushion. It's a piece of genuine old brocade, 
 seventeenth-century Itahan. Brooking got it for me." 
 
 He said aU the right things, told her how well she was 
 looking, how the cushion became her, noted the famille 
 verte bowl fuU of scarlet peonies, which made a fine note of 
 colour against the turquoise brocade, and he awaited 
 her will to tell him why she had sent for him in such haste. 
 Perhaps all that was best in Errington Welch-Kennard 
 was the pity that dominated every other feehng in the 
 hours that he spent with the poor Sphinx. Everything 
 in him at such times was subordinate to the desire to 
 be of service to her. 
 
 There was hght conversation, with a few pauses, and 
 then, quite abruptly, her face turned from him, she 
 began : 
 
 " There was a pohce raid last night at a house in 
 Portland Place. Kenny du Gore was there, but man- 
 aged to get away, yet he thinks he was recognised." 
 
 He kept his seat, waiting for her to go on. But already 
 he knew, he hated, the service that would be asked of 
 him. He had read his morning papers. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 191 
 
 " I sent Brooking this morning to — to find out things. 
 They have not taken out a warrant." 
 
 " What do you want me to do 1 " 
 
 His voice was curiously low and still. He was back 
 in the past, both of them were back in the past. 
 
 " Kenny must be got out of the country." 
 
 " Can't you let him take his chance ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 A mountain of difficulties rose before him, ugly, 
 threatening, dangerous. It was difficult for Sybil to 
 speak, yet there was much he must know. She went 
 on, but her voice was not clear, he had to lay his head 
 beside hers to hsten. 
 
 " It was an accident, Kenny being there, I mean, he 
 only went out of curiosity, my curiosity, I couldn't 
 help it. I wanted to be certain. You know who 
 betrayed Algernon, and repudiated him. You can guess 
 how I have hated his prosperity, his success, that Toe 
 has got back." 
 
 She had tried to keep the curtain down, now she 
 raised a corner, and he saw into her chamber of horrors. 
 
 " You heard % " 
 
 " I heard he was stiU playing a double part. Kenny 
 offered to go and see. It was unfortunate the poUce 
 should choose just that night, for he was there, 
 Errington, he was there." 
 
 The Hght in the eyes she turned to him was terrible. 
 For the man of genius had been broken on the wheel, 
 and the man she had been tracking was the friend who 
 bound him to it. 
 
 He tried to hush her, soothe her. It was all true, he 
 
192 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 had always known of its truth. But the public demand 
 had been for one victim, and it was Algernon who had 
 been broken. 
 
 " We can't revive it, we can't undo it. Oh ! Sphinx, 
 Sphinx, why can't you let it sleep ? " he groaned. 
 
 " It is too late, too late, I know. But I sent 
 Kenny there." 
 
 She lay quiet, tried to quiet herself. It was of Kenny 
 du Gore she would speak, of the son of General du Gore, 
 whom she had encoviraged to his ruin. That was her 
 responsibihty, all at once she had been seized with 
 terror at what she had done, with fear of what might 
 happen. Kenny must not suffer as Algernon had 
 sufiered. She could not bear it. 
 
 " You must get him away," she said. 
 
 " But you are not even sure that he was recog- 
 nised. In any case, let us wait until they issue a 
 warrant." 
 
 " Then it will be too late. I can't bear it, make him 
 get away at once, to-day, to Spain. He can have any 
 money he wants, only make him go." 
 
 She noticed his want of response. 
 
 " Will it hurt you to do this ? No one but you 
 could do it. He must be warned, frightened, persuaded. 
 He is obstinate and — innocent. Tell me if it will do you 
 any harm. But no one need know." 
 
 " Have I ever put myself or my interests before any- 
 thing you have asked me to do for you 1 " 
 
 " I am so glad always in your prosperity. And then 
 there is your election." She could play on him, knowing 
 every sensitive string of his generosity. "No, you must 
 not risk it. I had forgotten everything. But oh ! Erring- 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 193 
 
 ton — ^if — ^if lie should be arrested ! How could I go 
 tkrough it all again ? " 
 
 " Of course not," he answered quickly. " It's not to 
 be thought of." 
 
 " It was all my fault. I wanted to know." 
 
 The resolution he had come to, not quite quickly, but 
 definitely, ht up his face. 
 
 " It's all right, dear, I'U take it in hand." 
 
 " You — won't hurt yourself ? " 
 
 " I'U take no risks I am not compelled to take. 
 Where is he now ? " 
 
 " He is at the Beethoven's. He ran away, years ago, 
 with a httle Jewish girl from Tottenham Court Road, a 
 niece of Elsa Beethoven." 
 
 " Married ? Is Kenny married ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but they are not hving together. There has 
 been some trouble or other between them lately. This 
 is her great chance, the chance of a hfe time ! " Then 
 her voice broke : " Oh ! God ! If I could have done it, 
 when my chance came, if I had not been struck down 
 like this ! " 
 
 And the old anguish tore at her. When she could 
 have stood by her husband's side, helping him, the hand 
 of God had swept her aside. Whilst the waves were 
 engulphing him, she lay broken and speechless. She 
 had her great part to play, and had played it perforce in a 
 darkened room, without an audience, to an orchestra of 
 pain. She had to pause, the poignant bitterness of it 
 never slept. 
 
 Against his inchnation, against all his better judgment, 
 Errington was persuaded into promising to get Kenny du 
 Gore quickly out of the jurisdiction of the Enghsh Courts. 
 
194 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 He had tried to get Algernon away, but Algernon him- 
 self had baulked him. He had brought obloquy upon 
 himself, and faUed in his objective. He had hved it all 
 down, and now again he must risk his reputation. But 
 the Sphinx left him no choice. She had even arranged 
 detail. Errington was to fetch Sam Beethoven from 
 his club, and Sam would take him to Kenny. 
 
 " I can't meet that woman," he objected. " You 
 know, Sphinx, the trouble I had with her before, how 
 difficult she was to get rid of. And now you ask me to 
 go to her house." 
 
 " I thought of that, that is aU arranged, you are not 
 to see her. She promised Brooking she would keep out 
 of your way." 
 
 AU of it was disagreeable to Errington. He woidd so 
 much have preferred not to have anything to do with 
 the case, but the Sphinx's terrible anxiety seemed to 
 leave him no option. 
 
 He went without his limch. He drove to the Picca- 
 dilly Club to meet Sam Beethoven. 
 
 The Piccadilly was not a first-class club. It would 
 perhaps be unfair to the Union, the Devonshire, or 
 the WeUington, to call it second-rate. Errington, 
 who, since his marriage, and the inception of his 
 parliamentary ambitions, had been elected a member 
 of the Carlton, rather smiled as he mounted the 
 steps. After he had asked for Sam, and the club servant 
 had gone to look for him, he found himself surrounded 
 by men whose manners and conversation were all 
 strange to him. He knew many worlds, but the world 
 of second-rate sport was not one of them. Here about 
 him, were racing men, pigeon shooters, gamblers, hard- 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 195 
 
 featured, close-lipped, indefinably vulgar. It was 
 whilst he was wondering from what under-world the 
 members of this strange club emanated, that he was 
 jarred into consciousness by an outstretched flabby 
 hand, and a voice he knew weU, but disagreeably. 
 
 " So you have come at last. I vos just going home 
 without you, he is so impatient, that neffew-in-law of 
 mine. I have not seen you for five years or more ; isn't 
 it ? Not since you were married. Dot vos a fine 
 marriage you did ! Mrs. Beethoven and myself vos 
 pleased about it. Oh yes ! bygones is bygones with 
 Mrs. Beethoven and me ! She is a good woman. A 
 pretty kettle of fish ! Kenny du Gore vos in that house 
 in Portland Place last night. Manny Henry did a great 
 thing for his daughter wif that fine marriage! You 
 come home with me. You shall hear aU about it." 
 
 Errington could not help his stifiening of manner. 
 To shake hands with Sam Beethoven had always been 
 an efEort to him. Sam was carroty, wore whiskers, 
 was not over clean in his person, and was on the Stock 
 Exchange ; everything he most dishked. His proximity 
 in the hansom was unpleasant. Sam spluttered and 
 talked the whole time. What he ignored, and what he 
 forgot of the past, made him ultra abominable. 
 
 " A nice mess," he kept saying, " a nice mess Manny 
 made for his daughter wif her fine marriage. You don't 
 come to see us now. You've grown too grand for us. 
 But I hear of you, I hear of you in de papers. Mrs. 
 Beethoven, she cuts out the paragraphs, pastes them 
 in a book. She has not forgotten you." 
 
 This made the prospect no pleasanter. 
 
 Arrived at that famiUar house in the Wedderburn 
 
196 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Road, lie could not but feel that his past degraded him. 
 The mere recognition of the attempts Elsa had made to 
 follow, to please, his tastes, made him shudder inwardly. 
 
 Sam took him into the drawing-room, and said he 
 would send Kenny to him there. The drawing-room 
 was tawdry with Empire furniture, bearing upon it the 
 stamp of Birmingham, with old Itahan pictures painted 
 yesterday, cracked china with only the cracks to excuse 
 it. 
 
 He could not wait in the drawing-room. He endured 
 it for two or three minutes, imtil the two cupids and 
 a nude woman, labelled "Rubens," which was the 
 masterpiece in Elsa's collection of old masters, drove 
 him into the hall. There, of course, he ran against Elsa, 
 prepared for the emergency. 
 
 She greeted him with outstretched hands, a Uttle 
 mannered moan, dropped eyehds — her willowy figure 
 bending. In the dim hght of the hall she thought her 
 years would be hidden, she had laid her httle plan of 
 campaign, but his impatience had defeated her intention. 
 It was true that she had promised the Sphinx's delegate 
 she would keep out of the lawyer's way; but pledges 
 count for nothing with a woman like Elsa Beethoven. 
 
 " Oh ! " she said, " at last. We meet again." Each 
 phrase was pumped out as if her emotion almost stifled 
 her. " Speak to me, tell me you have not quite for- 
 gotten ze past — ze past is not dead viz you, ven you 
 come to my poor house." 
 
 He was annoyed at the encounter. 
 
 " Oh ! I've forgotten nothing. Where is that young 
 nephew of yours ? I can't wait for him all day." 
 
 " But a httle minute first for me, von httle moment. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 197 
 
 Come into ze dining-room, zere ve shall be alone. Sam 
 vill find Kenny in time, in good time. In ze dining- 
 room, vere you vill remember " 
 
 " I remember nothing. My^mind is a blank about 
 everything but the immediate purpose of my mission 
 here. Don't sentimentahse, there's a good woman. Get 
 hold of that boy, and bring him to me. There's no time 
 to waste." He was quite brutally frank, knowing 
 Elsa, and her love of drama, hating her, and all her 
 ways. 
 
 " But ze past," she moaned, " ven ve vere so 
 happy togezzer." 
 
 " The past, my dear woman, is as dead as a door nail. 
 I'm glad to hear from Sam that you and he are getting 
 on so well. I hope you make him a good wife now. You 
 ought to, you know, he has behaved very well to you." 
 
 She covered her chagrin as well as she was able, under 
 a httle afEected laugh, and assurance that Sam still 
 thought himself lucky that she remained with him ! 
 Kenny came downstairs at this moment, fortunately, 
 ending the interview. 
 
 Brrington had not reahsed that Elsa had the wiU, 
 and might have the power, to revenge herself for his 
 contemptuous indifference. If he had reahsed it, it 
 would, perhaps, not have altered his conduct. 
 
 Kenny du Gore had been an hahittcS of the Hans 
 Gresent coterie ever since he was a subaltern at Sand- 
 hurst. Errington recollected him at the last of the 
 memorial suppers he had attended before his marriage. 
 But the flushed and ;drunken boy he remembered, 
 erect and alert, bore httle resemblance to this poor 
 flabby figure. Errington had^dishked the insolent 
 
198 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 handsome lad. But no one could dislike anything so 
 abject as Kenny du Gore showed himself when they were 
 together in that tawdry drawing-room, he could hardly 
 hold himself erect. In fact, the first words he said 
 were : 
 
 " Do you mind if I sit down ? " He had not attempted 
 to shake hands with the lawyer. " Have they issued 
 a warrant ? Do you know if they've issued a war- 
 rant ? " he went on. 
 
 He looked as if he had been already sentenced, there 
 was no manhood left in him. 
 
 " I don't know what I ought to do. You will help me, 
 won't you ? The Sphinx promised you would. It 
 was all her fault, you know. She says herself it was all 
 her fault." 
 
 He did not go the right way to secure Errington's 
 ■sympathies. Whatever fate was in store for him, it 
 was fairly certain he deserved it. But the Sphinx's 
 anguish over him could not be ignored nor set aside. 
 
 Kenny had had as much champagne as was good for 
 him already this morning, but he was unable to go 
 through the interview without ringing for more. 
 
 The lawyer wrung from him slowly, and with difficulty, 
 all the circumstances of the raid, of his escape. It was 
 all very sordid, ugly, and disgraceful, but Errington 
 began to see his way. He tried to explain the position 
 to Kenny, and Kenny was quite capable of understand- 
 ing an explanation. This one abounded in legal tech- 
 nicaUties. Five of the men who were at the house in 
 Portland Place had been arrested on the spot. The 
 charge against them was easily formulated. The peer 
 whom Kenny had been sent to watch had got safely away. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 199 
 
 Powerful influences would be employed again, as they 
 had been employed before, in securing his safety. An 
 honoured name was involved, far-reaching interests ; 
 and Kenny would benefit indirectly. Kenny too, had 
 not been " found on the premises ; " the jargon was aU 
 at Errington's finger ends. The network of the criminal 
 law has a wide mesh, and through it Kenny might well 
 escape. But, pending events, he must get out of Eng- 
 land. Of this the lawyer had no doubt, and, notwith- 
 standing the Sphinx's warning, he had httle opposition 
 to meet, no obstinacy to overcome. Kenny was all 
 demorahsed by his danger. He was ready to do any- 
 thing, go anywhere, be guided in every way. 
 
 All that afternoon they spent, the lawyer and Kenny 
 du Gore, in omnibuses, undergroxmd railways, two- 
 penny tubes. Kenny must not be traced, and Errington 
 must not be recognised in his company. 
 
 It was a degraded wretched business, this getting 
 Kenny to the docks. For Spain had been decided upon 
 for his sojourning place, and the best way to get there 
 was from Tilbury. They dodged supposititious detectives, 
 and saw danger in every one who looked at them. 
 
 But Kenny was grateful. Errington would not let 
 him drink any more, and tried to talk seriously to him 
 about the future. It was not his way to preach, but he 
 could not feel his responsibihties at an end, in merely 
 getting Kenny away. 
 
 " If there is no warrant issued within seven days you 
 can reckon yourself safe. You can come back then. 
 The probabihties are great that no action will be taken 
 against you ; but you'll be suspect, you'll be, to a certain 
 extent, under police surveillance. What are you going 
 
200 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 to do when you come back ? The Sphinx tells me 
 you are married. Where is your wife ? Can't you get 
 your wife to return to you ? " 
 
 There had come back to Kenny du Gore, as he ap- 
 proached safety, something of manhness and courage. 
 Now, seated opposite to him, over that parting chop, 
 Errington noted that there had returned to him at the 
 same time a certain air of good-breeding, a reminiscence 
 of Eton and the Guards. It began to seem to Errington 
 after all that his work was worth doing ; to save the 
 son of General Sir Algernon du Gore from everlasting 
 ignominy and disgrace was not unworthy, even if it 
 were dangerous. 
 
 Of what cahbre was his wife ? Would she do her 
 part, the part the Sphinx had marked out for her ? 
 
 Everything had been arranged, the passage had been 
 secured, there were two hours before them for talk. 
 For Errington would not leave his new chent until he had 
 seen him on board, until he could take reassurance to 
 Sybil, and the restoration of her peace of mind. 
 
 " Is there any chance of reconcihation with your 
 wife ? " he asked again. " Tell me about her. You 
 ought to hve together when you come back ; it would 
 look better." 
 
 " She is the daughter of Manny Henry, the outside 
 broker, that chap who advertises, you know. His real 
 name is Solomon." 
 
 " How long have you been married ? " 
 
 " Seven years. I think it is seven years. But we 
 
 haven't been together much. I ran away with her." 
 
 His face flushed a httle, his career had not been one to 
 
 which he could look back with pride. " I was up to my 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 201 
 
 neck in difficulties," he said deprecatingly. " I thought 
 Manny would have forked out handsomely," he broke 
 out. 
 
 " And didn't he ? " asked Errington drily. 
 
 " Well, he did, and he didn't." the other admitted 
 reluctantly. " I say, isn't this a beastly chop ? " 
 
 " Better than skilly." 
 
 Kenny looked at him. 
 
 " I say, that isn't very gentlemanly." 
 
 " Go on, go on about your wife," said Errington 
 impatiently, the day had tired him. 
 
 " Lil's quite a good sort." Then he shied again from 
 the topic. " You know that was the time the Governor 
 was due back from Egypt. There had been a fuss about 
 the Sandhurst debts before he left home, and I left 
 half of them out of the list. I did not want to go 
 to the Governor when he came back with a fist full of 
 writs." 
 
 " And what happened then ? " 
 
 " Manny paid. He paid first for one thing, and then 
 for another for me. He has pots of money, why shouldn't 
 he ? I didn't tell the Governor about my marriage ; 
 he was called to South Africa directly he was home from 
 Egypt. What was the good of talking ? What was done 
 was done. He wouldn't have understood her, she's not 
 a bad sort." 
 
 He left ofE talking, reviewing his past perhaps. Then 
 he burst out : 
 
 " You never met such a girl in your hfe ! She was 
 supposed to be clever, you know, matriculated in honours, 
 or some such bosh ! " 
 
 There was a faint flush again under his skin. It is 
 
202 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 possible that, wlien considering his married hfe, he was 
 not altogether proud of it. 
 
 " She did not know anything — anything at all ! From 
 words such as everybody uses — slang, she calls them — ^to 
 a cocktail or a whisky and soda, she disapproved — dis- 
 approved ! What do you think of that for Manny 
 Henry's daughter ? She set up some West Central 
 standard, I suppose, and thought I was going to hve up 
 to it." 
 
 Noting Errington's expression, perhaps not wishing 
 to estrange his sympathy, Kenny went on : 
 
 " I don't suppose I behaved very well. But you know 
 I was up to my neck in trouble, and my nerves were all 
 to pieces. No fellow could have stood Lil as she was 
 then ! She was a prig in petticoats, that's what she 
 was. I used to make the Sphinx die of laughing by 
 telhng her about the things Lil had said or done. That 
 is company for a man if you hke ! The Sphinx ! She 
 knows life backwards — understands men. She laughed 
 over what I told her about Manny too. That was what 
 led to the first trouble between Lil and myself. We 
 were hving at Banstead, and I had rushed up to Hans 
 ■Cresent for dinner, stayed to supper, and got back the 
 next morning. I'd done myself pretty well in town. 
 When she wanted to know where I had been, I let my- 
 self loose a bit. I told her how amused the Sphinx had 
 ■been about her father, I imitated him, he is rather a 
 jare bird is my father-in-law. That put her back up, 
 And she made a scene ; she has got a devil of a temper. 
 I said a few things to her that she didn't hke ; she really 
 looks rippin' when she gets in a rage. I am not de- 
 fending myself, but any girl with any sense in her would 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 203 
 
 have known I was only trying to get a rise out of her. 
 But there's no compromise about her, and she — she 
 left me, went back to her father. It suited me very well 
 — ^it's not so easy to run a secret marriage " 
 
 " And your most pressing debts were all paid ? " 
 interpolated the lawyer. " But this is a long time ago — 
 this was while you were still in the regiment. Haven't 
 you seen her since then ? " 
 
 Kenny's discomfort grew obvious and pronounced. 
 
 " Well, you know, when I left the regiment, Manny 
 put the screw on, that was after Lihan went back to him. 
 He wanted me to tell the Governor I was married. And 
 there were lots of people pressing me, who knew some 
 had been paid, and some hadn't, and then the Sphinx 
 was ill, couldn't see me — I hadn't a soul to speak to. 
 I beheve I was half ofi my head with trouble." 
 
 He was coming to that period of his career over which 
 the clouds had gathered most blackly, of which he was 
 most genuinely* ashamed. He took it for granted that 
 the lawyer knew what they hid. 
 
 His shame was a good sign, a promising sign, Errington 
 thought. He encouraged him to go on. Kenny burst 
 out : 
 
 " You don't know, none of that set ever guessed, 
 the sort of way I had been kept. The Governor was 
 a great soldier, a great man. But I saw nothing of 
 him, I had no pal, I never had a real pal." There 
 was a pause. " You know what happened," he went on, 
 his eyes averted. His half-smoked cigar was flung away, 
 he was unable to hold it in his trembhng hand. " An 
 accusation was brought against me. Any man is Uable 
 to have an accusation brought agaiast him. There 
 
204 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 wasn't a syllable of truth in it. But, what with Lil and 
 one thing and another — I sent in my papers. 
 
 " The Colonel wrote to the Governor ; they were old 
 friends. I went to see him, and he told me I had 
 disgraced the regiment, and the name they were all 
 so proud of. He would not hear my side. Then I 
 saw the Governor ; the old man cried. He was just 
 back from Egypt, covered with honours. And he cried ! 
 I was cut up, I was all to pieces, seeing him hke that. 
 I couldn't explain. He told me I ought to go and cut my 
 throat. I could not face him again. What is the good 
 of making a long story of it ? I cut the whole thing, and 
 went to Austraha. And a ghastly time I had there." 
 
 Kenny was making a clean breast of it with a ven- 
 geance. 
 
 " And afterwards ? " Errington asked. 
 
 " I got down to bed rock in Austraha. I very nearly 
 took the tip and cut my throat. But the Governor 
 was not having a rosy time in South Africa himself. 
 I was in hospital in Adelaide when I heard about it, 
 had a touch of blue devils, very nearly went under. 
 I borrowed a few dollars from the doctor and cabled 
 him. He wrote me such a beautiful letter. Said per- 
 haps he'd been harsh with me, he had not found the 
 world very just. I wanted to get out to him, but it was 
 too late. The old man had died." 
 
 Errington found himself looking back. He looked 
 back on himself at twenty-two, and thought that his 
 father also might have kicked him out, shut the door 
 in his face, and died before it had been opened. But 
 he never did. The door had always been open for 
 Errington. Kenny went on : 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 205 
 
 " You know the way they talked about the Governor, 
 and how they behaved to him, until the truth leaked 
 out, too late for him. The old fellow was so proud, 
 it was not his own muddle for which he paid the penalty. 
 A comrade of his wrote to me to come home, that there 
 was a lot of pubhc feehng in the matter, and he thought 
 I should get the benefit of it. I ought to have got the 
 benefit of it. I apphed to the War Office; but not a 
 thing did they do for me, not a thing ! " 
 
 " But your wife, your father-in-law ? Would not 
 they help you ? " 
 
 " It's easy for you," Kenny broke out, " You married 
 a lady, with a big income, and can five where you hke, 
 and do what you Uke. I had to go and hve in that 
 beastly Eton Avenue." 
 
 " Then they did stand to you." 
 
 " Well ! I told you Lil wasn't a bad sort. She wrote 
 me regularly all the time I was away. She admitted 
 herself it wasn't aU my fault. She has got a very bad 
 temper, no self-control at all. I told you I had a Uttle 
 boy " 
 
 " No ! You didn't tell me that." 
 
 " He was born just after I went away. He really 
 is a joUy fine httle chap, very Uke my father. Manny 
 bought us a house in Eton Avenue, you know the 
 place, a row of beastly villas, with grimy gardens, 
 pretending to be country houses, with smutty creepers 
 and dingy trees. He made Lil an allowance. I mort- 
 gaged The Towers, and it seemed Manny got hold of 
 the mortgage. He wanted the place for the boy. He 
 would do anything for that boy. The place was let, 
 you know, my place, I mean. The Towers, furnished, 
 
206 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 to pay the interest on the mortgage. Of course that's 
 why she left me the second time, why we are not together 
 now. She has got no idea of business. What does it 
 matter to whom the cheque was drawn ? It was my 
 place. And Kennard, you're a man of the world, you 
 know as well as I do that if ever there was a certainty 
 in the world, it was John a' Dreams for the Lincoln 
 Handicap. Mind you, to my dying day, I shall beheve 
 the horse was pulled " 
 
 " You endorsed the^cheque for the rent in your father- 
 in-law's name ? " Errington's mind was quick to take 
 in the position. 
 
 " Well, it was my money, wasn't it ? " Kenny said. 
 " You must admit I had as much right to it as she had." 
 
 " Hardly that. And when your wife found that you 
 had used this money, you had a few words ? " 
 
 " We had begun about that when the boy came into 
 the room. A good many of our rows have been about 
 Everard. She dresses him in velvet, Kennard, and 
 lace collars ! She was ragging me about honesty. 
 I told her a few plain truths about her way of looking 
 at hfe. And I told her what she was hkely to make 
 the boy by dressing him up like a damn httle Jew boy. 
 I was not going to let her have all the say. You can 
 understand that, can't you ? But you cannot say 
 things to her as you would to an ordinary girl. She 
 flares out at you in a minute, Uke a hurricane. And 
 she's got no sense. She thinks it's rather fine to be a 
 Jewess. She tries to teach my boy he ought to be 
 quite as proud he'd got Jew ancestors, as of the du 
 Gores — well — you see " 
 
 Kenny hesitated : 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 207- 
 
 " I did not mean to do him any harm. He is a ripping^; 
 little chap. She rushed off to make things right with,* 
 her father, offered to take half her allowance next 
 quarter, or some such rot — he is as rich as Croesus, _ 
 and would never have missed that £114. I had the boy 
 to lunch, as she was out. I made him drink a glass orr 
 two of wine, I hate a milk sop. When she got home, he 
 was talking away — it was really good sport. You'd 
 have liked to hear him. She flew into one of her 
 tearing rages. She snatched him up in her arms, and/, 
 cried over him. As if a drop of wine did him any harm, 
 for once. He was as drunk as a lord, and as happy as a . 
 lark. He let her have it, — he is full of spirits, and said 
 back some of the things he had heard me say, about Jews, . 
 you know. I went out when I'd had enough of it. And 
 when I came back she'd gone, and taken the boy with y 
 her. That was only a week ago. I thought I'd let her 
 cool down, that was the Sphinx's advice too. Now 
 comes this mess, so I suppose I'U have to apologise. 
 Of coxirse I never meant to let them stop away. You'll ( 
 see her for me, won't you ? Say the right thing. 
 If everything goes right, I'd hke them to be in Eton < 
 Avenue when I come back." 
 
 Any other man would have been repelled, appalled,, 
 disgusted, with Kenny du Gore, with Ms own story 
 told in his own way, and would have abandoned him to • 
 his fate. But Errington Welch-Kennard was not made 
 like ordinary men. To him, always with Algernon , 
 Heseltine's bhghted hfe in the background of his mind, . 
 it never seemed fit that the pimishment should follow 
 the crime. 
 
 And what could punishment effect in a nature Uke -. 
 
208 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Kenny's ? Bring more obloquy on an honoured name, 
 torture with unavaihng bitterness the last days of a 
 dying woman, dower a Uttle son with his father's 
 disgrace ? All this passed through Errington's mind. 
 
 " Give me your father-in-law's address," he said 
 briefly. 
 
 " You'll see Lil, and explain ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You can tell her I'm in a mess. She won't under- 
 stand. But that is the way to get at her." 
 
 They were on deck now, the second bell had rung. 
 It was time for Errington to go. 
 
 " Are you going to run straight if we get you through 
 this ? " 
 
 " Do you think I don't know what a brick you've 
 been ? " 
 
 " But if I persuade your wife back to you ? " 
 
 " Oh ! that's aU right." 
 
 " You won't forge her father's name, and make your 
 little boy get drunk ? " 
 
 " What do you take me for ? " 
 
 " Weak ! " 
 
 " I'll get all right. I've never had a real chance. 
 Do your best for me with Lil." 
 
 " I wiU." 
 
 " Good-bye, and a thousand thanks ! " 
 
 " Good-bye, and good luck. I'U wire you." 
 
 And Kenny was in safety. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 Errington had promised to see Kenny's wife on his 
 behalf, and he fully intended to keep that promise. 
 But there was a large amount of work in connection with 
 the case which it seemed advisable should first be done, 
 and he went down to the office early on the morning after 
 Kenny's departure to consult with his partner, and 
 generally settle the plan of campaign. 
 
 He got through the consultation ; but he had hardly 
 taken his seat in his own room, run through the notes 
 awaiting him, and dictated a few letters, when a disturb- 
 ance outside distracted his attention, and the door was 
 thrust rudely open without the preHminary courtesy 
 of a knock. 
 
 " I say, Mister," the intruder began. " Your fellow 
 here said he would see whether you were disengaged. 
 I told him I would find that out for myseK. That's my 
 way. I'm a self-made man, I am, and I didn't get there 
 by waiting on clerks. You take your seat again, don't 
 you stand up for me. Send these fellows out of the room. 
 We've got to be alone." 
 
 He was a big, fair, coarse-featured man, and he had 
 practically elbowed his way into the office, thrusting 
 aside slow-thinking and astonished clerks and office 
 boys. 
 
 Errington's manners were always those of a West 
 
 
 
210 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 End consultant, or lady's doctor, rather than of a Strand 
 lawyer. The interview, whatever its nature, being 
 obviously inevitable, he decided to submit to it with 
 good grace. He smiled at his visitor. 
 
 " You shall teU me in what way I can be of service 
 to you. You can go," he said to the clerks. 
 
 " That's right. Now we can talk. I am in trouble. 
 Mister, awful trouble. It's no good beating about the 
 bush. Can you get me a divorce, that is the question ? 
 Either you can or you can't. You get me what I want, 
 and I'll give you a cheque for five 'imdred guineas. If 
 it's not to be done, tell me straight out. There, that's 
 fair, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Quite fair," said Errington, still smihng, " quite fair, 
 Mr. — " he waited. But his visitor evidently thought it 
 unnecessary to name himself. " Unfortunately, per- 
 haps, our fees are on a settled scale. However, we need 
 not discuss that part of the business immediately. Tell 
 me, instead, a few details." He took up a pen, poised 
 it over the paper, and waited as if he would take notes. 
 
 The new client sat on his spine in a way calculated to 
 accentuate the prominence of his paunch, and the paunch 
 itself was decorated with a white waistcoat. He had a 
 short beard and whiskers of a reddish hue, his nails were 
 bitten down to the quick. His restless hairy hands had 
 each its strange complement of diamond rings. He 
 kept his hat on. 
 
 " Settled scale be damned ! I beg your pardon. 
 Mister, but I'm no fool, I wasn't born yesterday. I 
 take it, it's just the same with you as it is with me, 
 you want as much as you can get. Now about this 
 divorce." 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 211 
 
 Errington was amused. The man's unconventionality, 
 and the suspicious redness round the rims of his eyes, 
 appealed to him. This chent was obviously distressed. 
 
 " What has your wife done ? " Errington asked simply, 
 putting down the pen, looking him straight in the face. 
 
 " My wife ! Oh, Lord bless you, you are on the wrong 
 tack. She's been dead this ten years, a good soul. 
 She's got two ton of the best Peterhead marble on her, 
 and there's not a soul goes up to Willesden but stops to 
 read the inscription. My Lil wrote the inscription. 
 It's not my wife that's troubling me. She never did, 
 I will say that for her. No, it's my Lil. It's her I want 
 the divorce for." 
 
 " For your daughter ? " 
 
 Her name was Lil, too ; it was a curious coincidence ! 
 Errington began to get interested. 
 
 " Yes, my daughter. I've only got one, and, poor 
 gal, she's married to a damned scamp of a swell. He 
 has broke her heart, I tell you." His voice rose as if 
 the lawyer had contradicted him. " He's broke her 
 heart, that's what he's done." 
 
 His large hairy hands with their bitten nails, were 
 trembhng, and his eyes were suffused. 
 
 " They have got a boy. You never see such a boy. 
 Straight as a dart he holds himself. Calls me ' Gran,' 
 he does ; I never had a boy of my own." 
 
 " Where is your daughter now ? " 
 
 " She's with me. She and the boy came a week ago. 
 Now he wants them back. But there's got to be an 
 end of it. My sister-in-law went up to see Lil this morn- 
 ing, leastways she's not my sister-in-law, but a Viennese 
 adventuress my fool of a brother-in-law married, and 
 
212 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 told her that if lie wants the boy, the law'll give it to 
 him. And a damned law it is, if it's true ! But we will 
 see about that. I'm goin' to keep that boy if it costs 
 me a 'undred thousand pounds." 
 
 " We must see what we can do. Go on with your 
 story," said Errington, soothingly. A flash of intuition 
 told him who was his visitor, the coincidence was indeed 
 remarkable. " I don't know that the law takes a child 
 away from its mother unless there is some very definite 
 cause." 
 
 " Definite cause ? She's got every cause to leave him. 
 He's got no cause to find fault with her. She's got 
 a heart of gold, that girl has. Well, llister, I'U get on. 
 You want to know all about it. He's a bad egg, that's 
 what he is, always has been. A young feUow I know, 
 a fellow who plays Bridge at my club, told me Kenneth 
 du Gore was a bad egg when he was at Eton." 
 
 Of course, this was Manny Henry. And Elsa Beeth- 
 oven had put his back up, precipitated matters, by 
 repeating some idle boast of Kenny's that he could make 
 his wife come back to him if he chose, by merely claiming 
 the boy. Errington damned the woman, but then that 
 had been his habit for years when Elsa Beethoven 
 intruded herself on his notice. 
 
 " He would have been sent away, only his father was 
 General du Gore, and had been in the same house. They 
 hushed it up while he was at Eton. It was by the skin 
 of his teeth that he got into the Army." 
 
 " Yes, yes ! I know all about him. I know your 
 son-in-law." Manny rose heavily. 
 
 " Then you know a damned blackguard, that's all I 
 can say. And I suppose you're on his side. I suppose 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 213 
 
 I've come to the wrong shop. I suppose I've got to go 
 elsewhere." 
 
 " Now, you sit down again, Mr. Henry. For I suppose 
 it is Mr. Henry to whom I have the pleasure of speak- 
 ing ? " 
 
 " Yes, that's me. And aren't you on Kenny's 
 side ? " 
 
 " I'm on no side as yet. I want to hear all about it. 
 What is the immediate cause for divorce ? " 
 
 Had the story of the raid spread ? Was Kenny in- 
 deed imphcated beyond hope ? 
 
 " What has he done ? " he asked, his brain working 
 rapidly. " Tell me about it." 
 
 Yet, whatever Kenny du Gore had done, or was, 
 Errington must help, if help were possible. The Sphinx 
 had imperilled him. For the sake of the old days, the 
 old days that would never die, he must do what he could 
 for Kenneth du Gore. 
 
 Mr. Henry began to pour forth a stream of talk, while 
 Errington was trying to discover what he actually 
 knew. But, as the talk went on, it began to grow clear 
 that it was of Kenny's past reputation, it was nothing 
 new, he was hearing. Much was pubhc property. It was 
 true that Kenny had been a bad egg. His father had paid 
 his debts more than once. He had left the Army 
 abruptly, and for an unexplained reason ; all this was 
 an old story. 
 
 Errington interrupted a phrase of Mr. Henry's. 
 
 " But his father paid his debts, before he left for 
 Egypt. They could not have accumulated to any great 
 extent." He thought he might as well hear the worst. 
 " And then, there is The Towers, that belongs to Kenny 
 
214 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 surely, and is entailed on his son." Errington's brain 
 acted quickly. 
 
 " His father paid his debts, did he ? That's a good 
 un. Yow ! His father paid his debts ! Yow ! " 
 
 The word was new to Errington. It expressed con- 
 tempt, increduhty, derision. It was curiously pictur- 
 esque and expressive. It was not a bark, it was a distinct 
 word, which would have been to an etymologist as is a 
 hidden nugget to the seeker after gold. 
 
 " Yow ! He paid them ? / paid them ! with my 
 hard-earned money ! I paid my lord's bootmakers, 
 tailors, motor-car people. That's what I've worked 
 for nigh on forty years — to pay some one else's blasted 
 debts ' " 
 
 Manny Henry had neither reticence, nor self-restraint. 
 He said he was a self-made man, and it was evident he 
 was proud of his creation. He was as graphic in his 
 description of his wife's tombstone as he was in giving 
 an outhne of a dispute he had had with the manager of the 
 Stock Exchange tape-machine. He forgot, in his autobio- 
 graphical diffusiveness how urgent was his business. 
 Everybody knew all about him, he said. Errington 
 thought it would have been marvellous had any one 
 escaped knowing. 
 
 Unhappy and distressed as he obviously was, it was, 
 nevertheless, with ever-increasing difficulty that he was 
 kept to the subject in hand. It was only by the exercise 
 of infinite patience that Errington succeeded in extract- 
 ing from him the history of Kenneth du Gore, as he knew 
 it, and what was the immediate cause of ofience that 
 had brought Kenny's incongruous father-in-law to 
 Southampton Street. ^ 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 215 
 
 " I was a damned fool ! of course, I was a damned 
 fool ! I met him at the club, about eight years ago 
 now, it is ; and I took him home. She was hardly 
 seventeen, my Lil wasn't, and the poor girl hadn't got a 
 mother. That makes a difference, you know. Well, 
 I'll make the story short. She took a fancy to him. 
 He was a 'andsome fellow, I must say that for him, and 
 he looked Hke a gentleman. His father was on his way 
 back from Egypt, and you know what a hullaballoo they 
 were making about him in the papers just then. How 
 was I to know his only son was such a blackguard ? I 
 don't mind teUing you I was rather proud of him, for 
 I'm a self-made man, I am, and he was a cut above me, at 
 least, I thought he was. He says now that Lil made love 
 to him, and that I did. His affairs were involved ; he 
 had got into debt a bit, as young fellows wiU. He said 
 he did not care to face his father, so I paid them for him. 
 I said to him, ' There you are, my boy, now you can tell 
 the Governor everything, and that you are in love with 
 my girl, and a handsomer nor a better one you wont 
 find in London. I will go to him if you hke,' I said, 
 ' I'm not afraid to face any man.' 
 
 " And when you see my Lil, Mister, you will say any 
 man ought to have been proud of her for a daughter-in- 
 law. As for me, there's a lot of talk about outside 
 brokers, but, you take my word for it, inside or outside, 
 it's all one, we're on the make, and that's the long and 
 the short of it. 
 
 " Well, what do you think they did ? Didn't wait 
 for me to see the General, didn't wait for him to come 
 home, they made a bolt for it. My brother-in-law, Sam 
 Beethoven, he says, that seeing me hve in style as I did. 
 
216 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 and knowing as her mother was dead, the young black- 
 guard thought she had got money of her own. But, 
 between ourselves. Mister, I took my wife out of a fried 
 fish shop, and she didn't have a bob. I don't beheve 
 in marrying for money, you've never got as much as a 
 woman with money of her own wants to spend. You 
 take it from me, it's cheaper marrjdng a woman without 
 money than with. Well, that's neither here nor there. 
 Within a year my Lil was back with me." 
 
 He could not go on. His indignation shook his voice. 
 Errington gave him a moment to recover himself, and 
 then asked : 
 
 " Why did she come back to you ? " He wanted to 
 hear Manny's view. If, instead of a divorce, he must 
 persuade this young woman to return to her husband, 
 it was essential he should know his ground." 
 
 " Well," Manny had become less fluent. " I never 
 could quite hear the rights of it. There was a woman 
 you know her, you were mixed up in that Heseltine 
 case ? " 
 
 Now Errington's attention was fully arrested. 
 
 " Yes," he said briefly. 
 
 " He left a wife, Heseltine did ! a bad un too ! " 
 
 " No ! " Errington could not let that pass. The word 
 shot out involuntarily. 
 
 But Manny did not seem to have noticed it. 
 
 " This young feUow got in with her somehow or other. 
 I don't say there was anything wrong between them. 
 From what I heard, it seems she was a bit of an invaUd, 
 and not young neither. But, right or wrong, Lil and 
 'im were hving at Banstead. Ajid nothing would serve him 
 but coming up to see that woman when the fit took him. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 217 
 
 And Lil 'ated all she knew of her. No wonder, seeing 
 they had been married 'ardly six months, and she was 
 in the way, you know." 
 
 " Did the Sphinx — did Mrs. Heseltine know Kenneth 
 to be a married man ? Had the marriage been made 
 pubUc ? " Errington asked slowly. He was trying to 
 piece things together, talking against time. 
 
 " I can't quite tell you the rights of that. It's my 
 behef none of his people knew. He was stiU in the Army, 
 though what he was doing there, except being ' on leave,' 
 is more than I can tell you. Anyway, it all seemed to 
 come to a smash together. He went and spent a night 
 with Mrs. Heseltine." 
 
 " Evening," interrupted Errington. 
 
 " WeU, he didn't get back till the next morning. And 
 it seems they had a regular set to, 'im and Lil, and she 
 takes the train and up she comes to me ; I was pleased 
 enough, I can tell you, to have her. I said, ' We will 
 let 'im cool his 'eels a bit, and then I'll see what he's got 
 to say about it.' " 
 
 " Well," said Errington, encouragingly, " well, what 
 happened ? " 
 
 " Well, the dammed young scamp ! I waited a week, 
 and then Lil seemed to begin to fret. She was going to 
 have a baby, poor gal, and she thought she had been 
 hasty. So ofi I goes, and I tries to find him. The 
 danmed young scamp ! Would you beheve it, but that 
 was the last we see of him for five years ? " 
 
 Yes, it was over five years since that memorial 
 supper. Errington thought of what those years had 
 brought him, wealth, reputation, happinesss ! Of 
 the last he was not quite sure. Could he be happy 
 
218 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 or content wliile the Sphinx hved, and made her claim 
 insistent ? 
 
 " Did not her htisband write to her ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes, he wrote fast enough. It seemed he had 
 got into trouble with his regiment, and the Colonel 
 insisted on his getting out of the way quick. Kenny 
 hadn't had the pluck to tell his father about Lil, or the 
 boy that was coming to her, or that he was married at 
 all. What do you think of that ? The young cur ! 
 I wanted to go to the General when he came home from 
 Egypt, and teU him myself, but Lil would not hear of it. 
 She wouldn't go against her husband's interest, she said. 
 She declared she had been as much to blame as he, she 
 ought not to have left him. Anyway, he had not 
 been gone six months before she was wild to go out to 
 him. The boy had been bom then. Kenny hadn't a 
 home for her to go to, and, though they patched it up, 
 80 to speak, in their letters, he was not so anxious for 
 her to go out, it appears. And then, somehow or other, 
 she got to feel she could not leave the boy, and she 
 could not take 'im with her, and, to cut a long story 
 short, the both of them settled down with me." 
 
 " And that lasted five years," said Errington, " your 
 daughter and grandson hving with you, Kenneth remain- 
 ing abroad and keeping up an afiectionate, for I presume 
 it was affectionate, correspondence ? " 
 
 " Yes, you've sized it up right. I thought it was going 
 on for always — in fact I thought I'd got shut of him. 
 Then, all of a sudden, she comes into my room, wild with 
 excitement. ' Father,' she says, ' father, Kenny is 
 coming back, he wants to see his^boy. We are going 
 to be so happy together ! Say you're glad ! ' 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 219 
 
 "You know" — Manny Henry's voice softened, softened 
 as had seemed impossible — " she wanted sympathy. She 
 'asn't got no mother. What could I do ? I said I was 
 glad if I thought she was going to be happy with him. 
 I said I would do what I could for them. And, Mister, 
 I did what I could. I did as much as any father could 
 do, and more too. It was a wrench to part with the boy. 
 I told you 'e caUed me Gran, didn't I ? I took a house 
 for them in Eton Avenue, St. John's Wood, took it 
 ready against he came 'ome. It stands high, you know, 
 and I thought the air was good for him, for the boy, I 
 mean. He's not one of the strongest. He don't take 
 after me, nor her. I don't expect they ever had much 
 constitution, those du Gores — they're a rotten lot, 
 your British aristocracy ! But that's neither here nor 
 there. There is not a 'andsomer looking child in Russell 
 Square than my grandson. People turned round to look 
 at him. We didn't spare nothing on his clothes, Lil 
 nor I, and proud I was when we took him into Peter 
 Robinson's or Swears and Wells' ; velvet suits, lace 
 collars, I couldn't grudge him nothing. He's got curls 
 on him, fair curls, well, I teU you it was a wrench to part 
 with him. He used to come into my room while I was 
 dressing, and talk ! why, 'e might 'ave been a man ! 
 
 " Well, I furnished a house for them, and I said, ' Lil, 
 there will be £250 every quarter paid into your account 
 at the London Joint Stock Bank. And if the boy wants 
 for anything beyond that, and times is fairly good with 
 me, you come along, that's all, just come along, and ask.' 
 
 " Did I tell you what that boy said to me when I 
 asked him what he would hke for 'is nursery ? He says, 
 ' Why, a rocking-horse of course ; fancy you not know- 
 
220 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 ing that.' ' Fancy me not knowing that ! ' he says. 
 And then 'e jumped on my knee and whispered in my 
 ear ; ' I want one with real hair on it, Gran, same as 
 Josh Beethoven has got.' I says, ' If Sam Beethoven 
 has bought his boy a horse, you shall have one too, and 
 twice as large as his ! And if his has got hair on it, 
 damned if yours shan't have a chignon.' 
 
 " Did you ever buy a rockin' -horse, Mister Lawyer ? I 
 didn't know what I was letting myself in for ! Anyway, I 
 got him one made of skin, with a mane and taU as if it was 
 a Shetland pony. Cost me £25 ! But you should have 
 seen his face ! I went up to Eton Avenue when it 
 was due home, and we took the paper off it, Lil and I, 
 while he was out with his nurse. When he came in, 
 we stood before it, and I said, ' What do you think is 
 behind me ? ' Well, he just sprang at me, ' It's a rocking- 
 horse ! It's a rocking-horse ! I know it's a rocking- 
 horse,' he said. But, when he saw it, why the tears 
 came into his eyes, he was that pleased, and the colour 
 flushed all over his dear httle face. I tell you. Mister, 
 if you've never had a grandson, you don't know what 
 it is. And he would not get on the horse until he had 
 jumped up into my arms, and kissed me and thanked me 
 for it. He's got a heart in him, he's made of the right 
 stuff, he is ! Lil and I sat there afterwards, and watched 
 him riding — shoulders back, head up, curls in the air — 
 I tell you it was a sight ! 
 
 " Well, to come back to the story. Everything was 
 ready for Kenny when he came back." 
 
 Manny paused, he got up and walked about the room. 
 He could not control his voice. There was actually a 
 sob in it. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 221 
 
 " Not a montli's happiness she didn't have, that poor 
 gal, not a month's ! God Almighty knows what he did 
 to her. He drinks hke a fish to begin with. Anyway, 
 S'elp me God, the whole year he's been at home I've 
 never been up unexpectedly to that 'ouse without seeing 
 Lil with her eyes half swollen out of her head with crying, 
 and him either out, or in bed too drunk to see me. That's 
 my son-in-law ! 
 
 " I don't know what there was between them a week 
 ago. But, at seven o'clock, when I came home from the 
 City, and was just takin' a snooze before dinner, I heard 
 a voice in the hall. ' Where's Dad, Mary ? ' I 'eard her 
 say to the parlourmaid. I opened the door. There she 
 was, holding the boy by the hand, her eyes just blazing, 
 no tears about them this time. ' Dad,' she says, ' I 
 have come home, if you will have me. 1 am never going 
 back to Kenny ! I've done with Mm. Will you have 
 us ? ' ' Will I, will I just ? ' says I. I may be common, 
 he has told me so often enough, and not good enough 
 for him, but she didn't find any fault with her old 
 Dad." 
 
 Manny Henry paused again. 
 
 " She stayed with me that evening. He sat up to 
 dinner, the boy did, you should have seen him, hke 
 a httle man ! Said he was not sleepy, that he never was 
 sleepy ! Fancy that now ! he says he never is sleepy ! 
 Anyway, he sat up, and eat his dinner with us, and when 
 he had gone to bed, I said to Lil, ' Now, let's have a talk, 
 old girl.' She said, ' Not to-night, father, I'm awfully 
 done. You just let me sit here, hke I used to ' — that's 
 by me, you know. My gal and I always got on well. 
 She sat on a stool by me, with her 'ead on my knee. Of 
 
222 THE SPHINX'S LAWYEE 
 
 course, she'd got the 'lunp. I won't say I didn't 'ave it 
 too. She never told me what the row had been, I didn't 
 press it. I know he's a bad lot. I just said, 'My 'ome's 
 your 'ome, gal,' and that's all about it. Well, I thought 
 we'd settled down, got shut of him. But, this morning, 
 up comes Elsa Beethoven, Sam's wife, with some yarn 
 about Kenny's rights, and Kenny's reputation. And 
 she worked on Lil ; I told Lil she wasn't to do naught 
 until she'd heard from me. I asked about a good sharp 
 lawyer, and more than one named you, so I came straight 
 along. Now, what can you do for us? that's the question. 
 I told you before, I don't care what it costs, my gal must 
 be free. Get 'im out of the country, get 'im where he 
 can't bother us, nor interfere with the boy." 
 
 Last night's events had not yet transpired. Erring- 
 ton was thinking deeply aU the time Manny Henry was 
 talking. He was glad Manny knew nothing of last 
 night, nothing of the real object of Elsa Beethoven's 
 interference. The woman had brains, he paid her 
 that unwilhng tribute. It was best Kenneth's wife 
 should return to him on normal grounds, the rest could 
 follow. 
 
 No hfe was hopeless which had no prison stain on it, 
 when only suspicion, and not conviction, had stained. 
 And the Sphinx wished it, wished it desperately. He 
 must do what he could for Kenny. His mind was made 
 up. He looked up, frankly meeting Manny Henry's red- 
 rimmed eyes : 
 
 " I should hke to talk matters over with your daughter. 
 I must tell you, Mr. Henry, that I have seen Kenny, 
 that he has already consulted me, and asked me 
 to see his wife on his behalf. You are misinformed 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 223 
 
 about his intention to claim the boy. He wants a 
 reconciliation." 
 
 " She'll never hear of that, never ! I know my Lil. 
 When she says a thing she sticks to it. She's done with 
 Hm." 
 
 " But you are going to let me see her, speak to her," 
 Errington said persuasively. 
 
 " Why not ? You can come along home with me 
 now, for that matter. For, the sooner we know where 
 we stand, the better. I hate shiUy-shally. When you've 
 seen her, and talked to her, you'U know you can't move 
 her. Then you'll come over to us, eh ? It is better 
 worth your while, I can tell you that, than acting for 
 him. He's no good to anybody, isn't Kenny, an un- 
 grateful fellow." 
 
 " Still, it doesn't seem to me that you have grounds 
 for a divorce at the moment ? " he interrogated, quickly 
 suspicious. But Manny was keeping back nothing. 
 
 " Well, you come home with me and see the gal your- 
 self. Maybe she'll tell you what she hasn't even told 
 me. She's not one to blab, isn't my Lil. Cruel he's 
 been, and he's never maintained her. I'm not up in 
 the law, but I want to get shut of him, and I know 
 it's to be done. Will you come home with me now and 
 talk to her ? " 
 
 " My dear Sir ! I have half a dozen appointments — 
 I'm full of engagements. I shan't be free for hours." 
 But he was, at least, as anxious as Manny. " I shan't 
 get clear of my work imtil six o'clock at the earhest." 
 
 " That suits me down to the ground. Don't you 
 make any ceremony, come and have a bit of dinner 
 with us. That will give you a chance of seeing lil. 
 
224 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 and I will keep the boy up, I'd like you to see tlie 
 boy. Have a bit of dinner with us." 
 
 " I can hardly do that, Mr. Henry, really. Why I'm 
 actually engaged on the other side," he said smihng. 
 
 " That's neither here nor there. I tell you I've got 
 the best cook in London. If you don't hke what she 
 does for us to-night, don't you come again, that's all ! 
 And there isn't a better in London." 
 
 Errington hesitated. A streak of Bohemianism, of 
 sympathy with the bizarre, had always been characteris- 
 tic of him, and it prompted him to accept the uncon- 
 ventional invitation. He was pledged to an uncongenial 
 task, and he might as well go through with it. 
 
 Manny pressed his invitation. 
 
 " And I've got some Lafitte " — he pronounced it as 
 if it had been a pedal appendage — " that will warm the 
 cockles of your heart ! You will be on our side if you 
 see the boy, and taste that Lafitte. Come now, say 
 yes ! " 
 
 It suited Errington to dine out, to avoid those difficult 
 Ute-a-ti'tes with his wife. It was absurd to dine with 
 Manny Henry, the man himself was an absurdity, an 
 anachronism. 
 
 But certainly it would give him an opportunity, and 
 an immediate opportunity, of approaching Kenneth's 
 wife. The prospect of the child dining with them 
 did not deter him, as might have been the case with 
 some other men. He had a soft spot in his heart for 
 children. 
 
 Kenny du Gore's son ! That a boy should have been 
 born to such a one as Kenny, while he was childless ! 
 He decided abruptly. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 225 
 
 " All right. Then, I will come to dinner, and see your 
 daughter, and the boy. What time did you say ? " 
 
 " I didn't say no time. As a matter of fact, I told 
 them I should hke dinner at 7.30, so's he should not be 
 too tired. Do you mind ? Because, if you do, we'll 
 put it off half an hour, and I'll tell them to make him 
 lie down a bit before dinner." 
 
 " Oh, not at all ! Don't alter your arrangements 
 for me. I can be with you at 7.30." 
 
 Manny said again that he was a good fellow, and he 
 didn't think he would be sorry for it. He would have 
 the chill taken off the Lafitte, and he would telephone 
 home that cook was to spread herself out. 
 
 They shook hands, parting with extreme cordiality. 
 
 Left alone, Errington spared himself five minutes 
 for a day dream, in which the old Ufe and the new hfe 
 mingled curiously. If the old Ufe had been bad, at least, 
 it had had its compensations. If the new hfe were good, 
 it certainly had its drawbacks. 
 
 Kenny du Gore and Elsa Beethoven — how strange 
 she should be Manny's sister-in-law. The juxtaposition 
 of the two figures disturbed him, he could not say why. 
 He had a sense of discomfort, as he envisaged them, an 
 indefinite, uneasy sensation. 
 
 But Kenny's wife, the " Lil," to whom he would be 
 introduced that evening, had no place in his thoughts. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 He wrote the Sphinx a reassuring line, telling her of 
 Kenny's departure, also of Manny Henry's visit, and 
 that he was dining with him to-night. Then he rang 
 up Berenice on the telephone. He found it easier to be 
 amiable at the telephone than at close quarters. 
 
 " Are you there ? That's you, isn't it, dear ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Do you mind if I dine out to-night ? I can save 
 myself several hours' work to-morrow if I give up this 
 evening to business. Tell me if it puts you out in any 
 way." 
 
 " Of course not." 
 
 " Send my things down, then, will you ? James can 
 bring them. It must be early, for we are dining at 
 
 7-30." 
 
 " Oh, easily. I'll send him at once, or," as an after- 
 thought, " or bring them myself." 
 
 " No, no, don't bother. And, I say, what will you do ? 
 WiU you be dull ? Won't you go to a play ? You can 
 easily find some one to go with you. Shall I send out, 
 and get tickets ? " 
 
 " I've letters to write, a new novel, some needlework 
 to finish. You know I'm never duU ! " 
 
 " I shall be home quite early, I expect. But don't sit 
 up." And he added a few affectionate words. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 227 
 
 It was ten minutes later when Berenice received 
 the letter from Harry, of which she had spoken to her 
 husband the following day at breakfast. He had written 
 asking her if she would meet him somewhere, or if she 
 would come to the rooms he had taken. It was a very 
 humble letter. He said that, for her sake, he would do 
 everything in his power to make things right again 
 between her husband and himself ; for he was miserable 
 without them, they were all he had belonging to him. 
 This had touched Berenice. She had rephed impul- 
 sively by driving straight round to the Albany, by rush- 
 ing up to his rooms, unannounced and unexpected. 
 
 Harry had not anticipated this, and, unhappily, he 
 was not alone. He was already agitated, and rather 
 husky with emotion, when he opened the door to her. 
 
 " How good, how good of you to come, dear. But 
 I'm not quite alone, you won't mind, will you ? " 
 
 Berenice had a quick impression of a taU foreign 
 woman with pink-Udded eyes, and a good figure, in the 
 background. 
 
 " Oh ! but of course Mrs. Welch-Kennard viU not 
 mind. She vill know, ve are such old, such dear, 
 friends. Present me, dear Harry, present me to your 
 sister." 
 
 Berenice was conscious of Harry's embarrassment, and 
 a general sense of artificiaUty and cheap drama. 
 
 " Berenice, you will remember, this is the wife of my 
 colleague, of whom I have spoken to you." Harry was 
 very ill at ease. 
 
 " Mr. Annesley, he calls my 'usband his colleague, 
 but he vos really his subordinate, his servant," Elsa 
 said deprecatingly. She had had that short interview 
 
228 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 with Errington tliis very morning. It influenced her, 
 beyond a doubt. 
 
 " No, no, not my servant, lie was not my servant." 
 
 " Your brozzer is so kind, so good to everybody, 
 be vill not own my husband vos his servant ! " 
 
 Berenice reahsed that the faded woman with the pink 
 hds was making eyes at Harry, playing for his benefit. A 
 sudden indefinable sensation of disUke, disgust, seized 
 upon her, it was difficult to command her courteous 
 speech. Fortunately, the scene ended almost as soon 
 as it began. It appeared that Elsa Beethoven must 
 go, must go immediately, she had an appointment, 
 she said she " vos so full of engagements." She managed, 
 with outstretched hand and cordiahty, with something 
 of gush, to launch her httle shaft : 
 
 " I am so glad to meet wiv you, Mrs. Kennard ; I 
 have heard so much of you. Your husband and I, 
 too, are such old friends. It is not only from your 
 brother zat I have heard your praises. Errington, 
 he vos at my house zis morning." 
 
 It was rather a shock to think of Errington in the 
 house of this repellent woman. 
 
 " I told him he should have brought you to see me 
 before zis. But^^you must come wiv Harry. I am 
 always at home on ze Vednesdays. You will bring 
 her to see me, von't you, Harry ? " 
 
 " I know so few of my husband's chents, I have so 
 Uttle time for visiting," said Berenice, somewhat stiffly. 
 
 Elsa laughed, and it was a grating laugh. 
 
 " Oh ! it is not zat I am a chent of your husband's ! 
 I have no business, no law business, I am simply his 
 ' old friend.' He is looking so veil, ve never zought 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 229 
 
 he vould like so much to be married. It must be that 
 you are so clever ! " and she laughed again. " I suppose 
 you are not jealous viz him, that is the secret. You 
 do not inquire vere he go ! He is so charming, it is 
 no vonder ze vomen run after him. You are so vise 
 in not minding. But I must go ; it is not good zat I 
 stay so long here." She simpered at Harry, and again 
 Berenice had that throe of disgust and distaste. " You 
 vill come and see me, ve shall become goot friends, hke 
 me and your husband. Not zis veek, I have a visitor 
 zis veek. He told you about my visitor, eh! But, of 
 course, I must not teU you his secrets. Good-bye ! 
 good-bye, dear Mrs. Kennard. You too are charming." 
 
 Harry, with shame-faced apology to his sister, went 
 out with Elsa Beethoven, going downstairs to see her 
 into a cab. Berenice found the atmosphere lighter and 
 better when she had gone. 
 
 " What a hateful woman ! " she said to herself. 
 " What a hateful, hateful woman ! " 
 
 But, of course, inevitably, she had added, 
 
 " What was Errington doing there this morning, 
 if she is not a cUent ? and why does she call him 
 ' Errington ' ? " 
 
 She was momentarily uncomfortable, she had a sense 
 of irritation, vexation; thus far Elsa had succeeded. 
 But the jealousy did not last beyond the next morning, 
 when she had voiced it to her husband. She would 
 not encourage it. Besides, it was true that women ran 
 after him. She saw it whenever they went out together, 
 and she was proud of it. That she was his wife, his 
 loving loyal wife, was her wonderful privilege and good 
 fortune. 
 
230 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Moved as she was for a moment by Elsa's malice, Harry, 
 nevertheless, found her almost restored by the time he 
 returned. Elsa had poured venom, too, into his ears. 
 She had spoken of the lawyer's connection with Alger- 
 non Heseltine's wife, as if the nature of it were known 
 to everybody. She had made it definite and certain to 
 Harry that the intimacy, which had not stopped with 
 his marriage, had been one that explained the sacrifice 
 Kennard had made in preparing Heseltine's defence, 
 in suborning justice in the endeavour to secure his 
 freedom. 
 
 Harry was so affectionately eager to show Berenice 
 his sympathy, that he rather overdid his part. She 
 asked him, smiling, presently, for what it was that he 
 pitied her. They came to close quarters then. He 
 had to hesitate in his speech ; for, as it had been with 
 Fred Darcy, so it was now with Harry Annesley. He 
 came up against the dead wall of her loyalty. Only 
 this time she was quite calm and secure. She hstened 
 to all he had to say, and then repUed : 
 
 " Harry, dear, don't heed anything you hear. I wish 
 you would hsten only to me. Surely you can see for 
 yourself how happy I am, how intensely happy. I have 
 the best and kindest, the dearest, husband in the world. 
 It is a grief to me that you and he do not yet understand 
 each other, it is the only trouble I have had since I 
 married him. But I know it'is only a question of time, 
 you are both so good to me." 
 
 " But what about this woman, dear ? He is there nearly 
 every day." 
 
 " With Sybil Heseltine ? " 
 
 " Yes. He ought not to visit her, to go there so 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 231 
 
 frequently. You don't know, you don't understand, 
 you couldn't understand, how men regard everything 
 connected with that man. He was outside the pale of 
 humanity. Everything and everybody that touched 
 him was infected. You must not let Errington go to 
 her, you m\ist use your influence." 
 
 " I wouldn't raise a finger to prevent him doing any' 
 thing he wishes. Independence of action, of thought 
 too, is the very essence of happiness. It is the lack of 
 it, the attempt to curtail it, that has ruined so many 
 married Uves. I have heard Norman say it, and I know 
 how true it is. I wouldn't wrong Errington by doubting 
 him, or questioning his movements. And I think he is 
 so right not to let his old friend miss him, and be lonely 
 in her old age and misery and sickness. I love him 
 more for it. I gladly spare him to her. Why should 
 I claim all his hours or thoughts ? What am I to deserve 
 them ? Harry, dear, I wish I could make you see eye 
 to eye with me in this. I don't want to be a drag and 
 a tie to him. I am grateful if I may be a home and a 
 rest for him. He must hve as a man, with an individu- 
 ahty, not as a mere husband. I don't think you realise 
 him at all, his fine intellect, his great heart ! Oh ! he 
 must have his freedom." 
 
 " Whatever he does with it ? " 
 
 The words were bitter and involuntary; but Harry 
 did not mean bitterly. He was fuU of unhappy retro- 
 spection, and uneasy lest she too might suffer. 
 
 He had met Elsa Beethoven by accident that 
 morning. It was ten years since they had parted, 
 and the ten years had eaten into the skin and eyes 
 of the woman, hned and faded her. Also they had 
 
232 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 been stained years, and that, too, she bore subtly about 
 her. 
 
 Her recognition of Harry had preceded his of her; 
 and, in the excitement and strangeness of that recog- 
 nition, she had made it appear to him that her agitation 
 was because the past had never died to her, that he was 
 still what he had been to her during those days in 
 Bucharest. And she had met him when he was lonely and 
 very imhappy. Before going out he had sent that letter 
 to Berenice, and he was doubting, fearing, hoping for 
 her reply. 
 
 So his response to Elsa had fed her vanity. They had 
 lunched together ; afterwards she had gone up to his 
 rooms for that " chat about old times," which seemed 
 so necessary, so attractive in the first flush of their 
 meeting. 
 
 He was such a lonely man, lacking friends, and almost 
 acquaintances; but his sojourn with Berenice had taught 
 him much, and his ideas had altered. It was not only 
 Elsa Beethoven's faded looks that had jarred on him. 
 
 She had told Harry, unsolicited, that she loved him 
 still. Her appeal to him was almost the ad misericordiam 
 appeal. She had been " so true to the memory of 
 their love," she was " unhappy, misunderstood ; " her 
 children, for whom she had "sacrificed so much, failed 
 her in sympathy." 
 
 She was stung by the snub Errington had given 
 her scarcely an hour ago, by his contemptuous dis- 
 regard, she was keen to prove her power afresh. 
 Harry's newly born consciousness of what is best in 
 woman, dehcacy, refinement, reserve, had an unconscious 
 shock. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 233 
 
 But all she had told him of Errington Welch- 
 Kennard, he was incHned to beheve. He did not want 
 to beheve it, he bore his brother-in-law httle mahce 
 for that after-dinner episode. He had not the same 
 sensitiveness as men more gently nurtured. But it 
 was not an affectation, it was quite genuine with him, 
 to look upon Algernon Heseltine and his crime as un- 
 speakable. He had no wide sympathy, no breadth of 
 vision. It was an ugly and hateful subject, and he 
 would have been glad to banish it, but he had no 
 doubt as to the correctness of his .own mental attitude 
 in the matter. He did not want to think about it, 
 he had missed Berenice's sweet companionship so much 
 these last two days, he longed for it on any terms. 
 
 Already he was vaguely conscious that Elsa Beeth- 
 oven was no substitute for Berenice, already he was 
 vaguely uncomfortable through her reappearance in his 
 life. Now it was only his pity she touched. 
 
 Harry soon gave up the attempt to discuss Errington's 
 conduct in the Heseltine case, with Berenice. He saw 
 how impossible it was to move her. The latter part of 
 the evening which the brother and sister spent together 
 was passed in planning an Itahan winter for Harry. He 
 had a short, hacking cough that made Berenice anxious. 
 His prominent eyes were too bright, his cheeks too 
 red. The change of climate from Galatz to London 
 had not suited him, and in every way it would be well he 
 should try a change of scene. He agreed with that ; 
 he reahsed already that Elsa was a danger to the good 
 resolutions he had made before he came home. Berenice 
 could use the time he was away on his behalf, persuading 
 Errington that he had not meant to insult him or 
 
234 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 his guests, that he had not known there was a division of 
 feehng on the subject of Algernon Heseltine ; he could 
 not reaUse this now. If he would go to Italy there would 
 be something of which he and Errington could talk when 
 he came home. She had set her heart on bringing them 
 together, but she did not underrate the difi&culties. 
 
 Theirs was a quiet and domestic evening. They 
 dined together at Verrey's,so that neither of them need 
 dress, they retujned to the Albany for more talk. He 
 saw her home at ten o'clock, and kissed her " good-bye " 
 on the doorstep, both of them hoping Errington might 
 return, and make a reconcihation possible. 
 
 But it was not until the next morning at breakfast that 
 she had had her opportunity with her husband, and then 
 as has been seen, it was not conspicuously successful. 
 
 Meanwhile, Errington himself had had a new expe- 
 rience. 
 
 He had dressed at his office, the brougham was at 
 the door in good time, Berenice had been thoughtful 
 in her orders. 
 
 " RusseU Square," he said to the footman, " and tell 
 Ryder to drive as qmckly as he can, I am late." 
 
 What a dull Bloomsbury ! What a depressing heavy 
 atmosphere lay over the grey houses, and the grey green 
 squares. What a brooding stillness there was in the 
 air ! 
 
 The house, at which the carriage stopped, was a fine 
 old Georgian one, with wide front door and hall. Erring- 
 ton, even as he entered, reahsed the possibiUties of un- 
 ambitious plutocracy. 
 
 It was a parlour-maid who opened the door, a staid 
 and respectable person of mature age, neither modern 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 235 
 
 nor smart. But he had hardly time to notice her, or 
 his surroundings, for Manny Henry met him in the hall, 
 with outstretched hands and an efiusive hospitahty, 
 oriental and generous. 
 
 " I thought I 'eard you ring. You come in here ; 
 we won't go up to the drawing-room, we ain't going to 
 make company of you. Lil is not down yet, but she 
 won't be long. And the boy is going to sit up ! She 
 thinks it is a bad habit for 'im to get into, but I 
 said she must make an exception to-night. That 
 was right, wasn't it 1 You will hke to see 'im, won't 
 you ? " 
 
 Errington said all that the occasion required. 
 
 He was interested in what Manny Henry called 
 his " hbery." There was not a book in it of any kind, 
 sort, or description. The walls were hung with a start- 
 hng scarlet-and-white paper. The easy-chair and sofa 
 were upholstered in a leather also of starthng scarlet. 
 There was an elaborate table arranged with hqueur 
 glasses and tumblers, and all apphances for drink. 
 There was a card- table outspread. Manny, as if noticing 
 Errington's glance at it, said : 
 
 " I've just been 'aving a rubber. Three fellows I 
 know came up to talk business with me, and we sat 
 down to Bridge, just to pass the time. The room 
 smells smoky, don't it ? I ought to have asked you 
 whether you minded smoking." 
 
 " Not at all. I'm not a great smoker myself, but I 
 always find the odour of a good Havana healthy 
 and agreeable." 
 
 " Well, you won't find bad ones 'ere. I stick to a 
 brand, Upman's, and as a matter of fact, I don't think 
 
236 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 you will find anytliing to beat it. You shall try one 
 after dinner." 
 
 The intensity of Manny's hospitahty was a Uttle 
 embarrassing, but Errington, who was nothing if not 
 adaptable, met his mood. 
 
 Internally, perhaps, he was already yawning, was 
 already wondering why the devil he had come, was 
 already composing the excuse that should take him 
 away immediately the dinner was over. 
 
 But, when Mary opened the door, and announced that 
 dinner was ready, and, at the same moment, Lihan 
 appeared on the stairs, holding the httle boy by the hand, 
 Errington's internal yawn was arrested. 
 
 He did not know what he had expected of Manny 
 Henry's daughter, of Kenny du Gore's wife. All he 
 knew was that he had not expected this girUsh figure, 
 with the small head so regally held, the dark tragic 
 eyes, and the soft young hps. 
 
 He had come as Kenny's advocate ; he knew that 
 was why he had come. But if this were his wife, then, 
 when he should plead with her for her husband, the task 
 would not prove tedious. 
 
 " This is my grandson, Mr. Kennard. 'Old out your 
 hand, old boy, and say ' 'ow-do-you-do ' to the gentle- 
 man." 
 
 Kenny's son was all, and more than, his proud grand- 
 father had described. His head, overrun with red gold 
 curls, was held as regally as his mother's. His blue eyes 
 were set wide apart, under level brows, his milk-white 
 teeth ghstened prettily behind his mouth's perfect bow. 
 And he was as voluble as Manny Henry; he soon 
 monopohsed the conversation. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 237 
 
 Errington, who had the rare gift of being able to 
 talk to children, heard that Everard could read, but 
 hked being read to best ; that " Mummy " read him 
 about " GuUiver Cromwell," and about " Macfello " 
 from Lamb's Tales. 
 
 Lilian tried to set him right, but Manny thought it 
 was unkind to check him, and saw nothing wrong in the 
 misconceptions. Errington begged that he would de- 
 scribe these two stories, and, if his mother blushed for 
 the muddled way in which his httle mind had adopted 
 her teaching, she could not but be proud to see how 
 well he was entertaining their guest. 
 
 " I hke playin' soldiers best of anything. My other 
 Grandpa was a great General, he foughted with a lot 
 of Bores, and that killed him, but not before Lord 
 Roberts knowed it wasn't his fault. I'm goin' to be 
 a General when I grow up. I'm Captain now when I 
 play with Vilet in the Park ! " 
 
 " And do you driU her ? " 
 
 " Oh ! yes ! I know aU the words of command. I 
 just say : " (he shouted it) " ' Standard Ease,' and she does 
 it. But Mummy, I'm not sure what Daddy told me. 
 Vilet says it ought to be ' Stand out ease,' her father 
 is a great man too, he's a sergeant, and that's what he 
 told her. But father can't be wrong, can he ? " 
 
 " No, of course not, certainly not," she said hastily. 
 It was obvious, she even wanted to make it quickly 
 obvious, that Everard was still to respect his father, 
 was to be kept in ignorance as to their relations. The 
 lawyer grasped her intention, and responded to it with 
 a glance of quickening interest. 
 
 Perhaps his mood was responsible for his interest ; 
 
238 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 but there was never a mood of Errington Welch-Ken- 
 nard in which the sex had failed to interest him. 
 
 In the vague picture that had formed itself in his mind, 
 the daughter of Manny Henry had figured, aquihne, 
 angular, Semitic, with the typical gaucherie of the High 
 School girl. 
 
 Lihan du Gore, seated opposite to him at the dinner- 
 table, that diimer-table without flowers, loaded with 
 dull silver, Georgian, but badly cleaned, was as beautiful 
 as Esther must have been, or as the Rachel for whom 
 Jacob worked his fourteen weary years. And vaguely, 
 whimsically, it was Ahasuerus or Jacob that Errington 
 wished he might play to-night. Manny Henry's ances- 
 tors must have been Spanish or Portuguese Jews. 
 Errington, hstening to the httle boy, answering him, 
 playing his part well, was nevertheless all the time 
 occupied in trying to find the exact adjective to describe 
 her colouring. It was Hke pale meerschaum, he finally 
 decided, ivory, golden-smoked, tinted. It deepened 
 round the eyes into dark shades that accentuated those 
 eyes' depths. Only the hps made a dash of scarlet 
 amid the browns and blacks of that murky hair and 
 skin. Crumpled, and scarlet, and soft, the hps broke 
 over the dazzling teeth. 
 
 She was very slender, almost imformed. She looked 
 too yoimg to be the mother of a boy of six, she seemed 
 eighteen rather than six-and-twenty. 
 
 Errington thought he would prevent her from making 
 havoc of her hfe. Whatever Kenny du Gore had done, 
 he would reconcile them to each other. There was 
 strength in that young face opposite him. He would 
 teach her that she must lend that strength to her husband. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 239 
 
 Of course Kenny was weak. His viciousness, if indeed 
 he were vicious, was due to this. His wife and son must 
 be saved for him. Already Errington saw himself as 
 their guardian angel. 
 
 It was wonderful how philanthropic Errington Welch- 
 Kennard felt, as he sat opposite his beautiful new chent, 
 her httle boy chattering by his side, and thought of all 
 he should do for her. 
 
 Before the dessert stage of the dinner had been reached 
 (and a very excellent dinner it was, by the way), the child 
 had dropped out of the conversation, and Manny had 
 talked his fill of stocks and shares. Errington, always 
 at ease in a difScult position, had rephed with travel, 
 bric-a-brac, domestic sociology. 
 
 He wanted to see LiKan's face Ught up with animation, 
 but, indeed, he met with only a hmited response. Her 
 thoughts, whatever their nature, absorbed her, and, 
 when the dessert was served, she took her son to bed. 
 
 Errington, as he opened the door for her, said : 
 
 " I am to have the pleasure of an interview with you, 
 later on, I beheve." 
 
 She simply rephed, " Yes," as she passed out, but she 
 had raised her wonderfxil eyes to his, and they held him. 
 
 She had hardly spoken during dinner, and the " Yes " 
 was all she vouchsafed him now. 
 
 " What do you think of 'er ? What do you think of 
 my Lil ? " Manny asked Errington, almost before the door 
 had closed, almost before his guest had resumed his seat. 
 
 Manny gave him no time for replying, it went without 
 saying, his expression said it. 
 
 " And, mind you, it isn't only 'er looks, she's as good 
 as she is beautiful. She is a beauty, isn't she ? and clever 
 
240 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 too ! Now, what does she want with that young black- 
 guard tacked on to 'er ? There's my nephew, my own 
 sister's son, one of the sharpest ! You look out for 
 him — 'e'll be a millionaire one day, and that not before 
 long neither ! He says to me only last week, ' If Lil was 
 in the market, Uncle, I'm a buyer ! ' Why shouldn't 
 she be in the market ? That's what I want to know. It's 
 not as if she was 'appy, or as if he cared for her. She's 
 never 'ad a 'appy hour, no, nor a 'appy moment since 
 he came back from AustraHa. He drinks Uke a fish ; 
 he gambles. I say naught against gambhng. If some 
 of them didn't do it. Lord knows where I should be ! 
 But there's sense and reason, even in gambhng. He's 
 taken what belongs to 'er to gamble with ; I expect 
 that's what's between them. I don't know how the 
 thing is to be done, how we're going to get rid of 
 Kenny. Cruel he has been, and 'e never maintained 
 'er, and 'e stopped away for five years." 
 
 " She condoned that," interrupted Errington quickly, 
 " there has been a resumption of co-habitation since 
 then." 
 
 " Well, perhaps there has, and perhaps there has not. 
 I don't know about that. You had best 'ave a talk 
 with Lil. She may 'ave something to tell you that she 
 won't tell her father. She won't go back to 'im, she 
 says. I don't care 'ow you work it, but I want her to be 
 shut of 'im for once and for always." 
 
 " She wants to see me alone ? " 
 
 " Yes, that's what we've settled. After she has put 
 the boy to bed she wUl see you in the hbery. She 
 don't take long over it, so say the word when you're 
 ready. What do you think of that cigar ? I gave 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 241 
 
 one hundred and twenty shillings for them. It's a 
 '94. There's not been a good cigar in the market since 
 then." 
 
 The cigar, the dinner, the wine, had all been good. 
 Manny had not said a word too much in their praise. 
 Errington joined warmly in Manny's encomium. 
 
 After another glass or two of the Lafitte, he was 
 summoned to that interview with LiUan. 
 
 It took place in the Ubrary, that quaintly named 
 library, where there were no books, but only upholstery 
 and the smell of smoke. 
 
 Errington, reminding himself that he was there 
 primarily to plead Kenny's cause, soon after he had placed 
 a chair for her, and got through the few necessary com- 
 monplaces, began by talking airily about the difierences 
 that so often arise between young married couples in the 
 first years of their hves together. But, whilst he talked, 
 he noticed the long thick lashes of her dark eyes, the 
 fine poise of her head, the red softness of her hps. Cer- 
 tainly, the wine had quickened his appreciation of his 
 client's appearance. 
 
 " It's not ' difierences ' between Kenny and me, 
 it is not an3d}hing shght," she interrupted without 
 apology, " it is just that Kenny is impossible. I've 
 tried my best to get on with him, but he makes me 
 mad. Is that what you've come to talk to me 
 about ? About being reconciled to Kenny ! For, if 
 that is all, it is no use. I must be divorced from him. 
 Then he need not bother about me at all, he wiU be 
 quite free. My father says you can do it if you Hke, and 
 what I want is a divorce." 
 
 " Is that all you want? " he said dryly. " Only a 
 
 Q 
 
242 THE SPHINX'S LAWYEE 
 
 divorce ! " But he looked at her, and it was his ex- 
 pression she answered. 
 
 " It's easy to be good. But Kenny can't be good. 
 And he says it's plebeian, bourgeois, common." Her 
 voice dropped, she repeated Kenny's words as if they 
 burnt her Ups. 
 
 " Is it so easy to be good ? " questioned Eriington, 
 catching at her words, but with his eyes intent on her. 
 He knew he would hke to teach her that it is not easy. 
 His pulses were beating rather faster than they had for 
 some time past, and quite definitely the wish to teach her 
 formed itself in his mind. " Is it easy to be good ? " he 
 repeated. 
 
 Her colour rose higher, as she felt the intention of his 
 glance, as her woman's instinct taught her there was 
 a meaning behind his words. She grew embarrassed 
 and awkward, and moved restlessly towards the window, 
 away from his eyes. 
 
 " You are trying to make me change my mind,"' she 
 went on, when she recovered her self-possession, " that 
 is what you are trying to do. But it's no use, it's not a 
 bit of use." 
 
 " I am going to succeed in making you change your 
 mind, imless you are very different from what I imagine 
 you to be, unless you are a much worse woman that I 
 imagine you to be, harder, more cruel," he replied. 
 
 She flamed out at him. Of course there was some- 
 thing in what Kenny had said. She was not well- 
 bred, she lacked self-restraint. But, what a grace 
 there was in her swift movements, how alluring were 
 the soft hquid eyes when the light of indignation shone 
 in their depths! 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 243 
 
 " I don't care what you imagine me, I don't care for 
 your opinion of me. You are not good yourself, I know 
 that. Aunt Elsa told me so this morning ; and she said 
 you know things that would help me to get rid of Kenny. 
 I want to be free ! " 
 
 " But none of us are free ! That is the tragedy of hfe." 
 He too moved from his place, and began to walk about 
 the room. Her words illumined his memory. 
 
 " We bind shackles on ourselves in our youth, and we 
 can never tear them off. If we do, the marks of them are 
 there, for ever graven in our flesh. I am not talking 
 to you as if we were acquaintances of an hour. It is a 
 vital issue that you are approaching, and one cannot 
 take vital issues as if they were three-barred gates. 
 You must pause and reflect where your leap wiU land 
 you. You want a divorce. What are you going to 
 do with your hfe ? You have youth, beauty, money, 
 a young son. What are you going to do with that 
 freedom you crave ? Do you want a divorce in order 
 to marry your cousin, the nephew of whom youi father 
 speaks ? " 
 
 " How dare you say such things to me ? " 
 
 " You will find I dare say anything to you that will 
 help you against yourself." 
 
 Now they faced each other again, and, if he saw the hght 
 of indignation fade out of her dark eyes, she saw no less 
 the growing softness in his strange green ones ; and she 
 read the sympathy in them too. A quick rush of remorse 
 came to her, because she had believed what Aunt Elsa 
 had told her, beheved that he was a bad man, although she 
 knew what a Uar Aunt Elsa was. It was characteristic 
 of Lihan to be impressionable and easily moved. 
 
-U THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Now she tlirew her burden on to him, impulsively. 
 
 " I don't know what to do ; tell me what I ought to 
 do. How can I go on hving with Kenny 1 He hates 
 me, he makes me hate him. I am in a passion from 
 morning until night." Her vehement words were 
 matched by her glowing cheeks. " You don't know 
 what he has done, anything of what he has done. He 
 jeers and sneers at me before my boy, and at my 
 father, my good kind father." 
 
 " Poor httle girl ! " 
 
 He said it so softly, so gently, that the ready tears 
 gathered in her eyes. And now she found that he had 
 taken the impulsive hand she had held out, and was 
 holding it in friendly grasp. 
 
 " Poor httle girl ! And you ought to have nothing 
 but kindness ! You ought to have some one to love 
 you, care for you, when the days are long, and a httle 
 empty, and only love can fill them. And you are such 
 a child yourself, such a child. I must indeed think how 
 to advise you, what to do for you." 
 
 The position was terribly difficult for her, either way 
 she moved there would be danger. He talked to her of 
 lonely days and nights. He made her colour come and 
 go. He moved her with argument. 
 
 When once he succeeded in unlocking her speech, she 
 grew strangely, dangerously, confidential to him. Kenny 
 indeed treated her outrageously. Errington soon felt 
 that, if he persuaded her to go back to her husband, 
 he must stand between him and her. He must, for a 
 time at least, act as third in their married hfe, reconcihng 
 them to each other, teaching them, especially teaching 
 her, his creed of compromise. There was something 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 245 
 
 alluring in the prospect. The girl was impulsive, 
 emotional. She had flung at him the indictment, 
 based on Elsa Beethoven's evidence, that he too was 
 bad. Now she was sorry for what she had said, he 
 could see the unspoken apology in the way she ap- 
 pealed to him. She could not do enough to show that 
 she was sorry. 
 
 He went on talking. 
 
 " I don't believe in pulhng up one's landmarks ; 
 I believe rather in replanting them — with a difference." 
 His personaUty added to the impressiveness of his 
 speech ; already she was beginning to reahse this. 
 
 " If the yew-tree hedge fails, let us try the eucalyptus. 
 If there are no late roses blooming on the hedges beside 
 the paths we walked in oux youth, and the shrubs are 
 black and shrivelled with frosts, let us level them. But, 
 in the place where they have been, let us put up a rockery, 
 where green hardy plants can pierce their way through the 
 stone crevices. Come, let us talk it over, let us see what 
 can be done. You must not make wreckage of your hfe. 
 There is no happiness for you in what you want to do." 
 
 " Oh ! I shall never be happy." Her eyes grew tragic. 
 " I suppose I don't deserve it. I ran away from father 
 with Kenny ; he was so different from everybody I had 
 ever known, I thought him hke a young god, he was so 
 handsome. I never thought of father, or anything but 
 that Kenny wanted me to marry him. I was so proud 
 of it. All the rest is my punishment. But I want to 
 do right now; and it can't be right to let Everard 
 grow up in such an atmosphere." 
 
 " Well, I don't think his httle mind is very clear yet," 
 Errington said, smiling at the remembrance of "Macfello." 
 
246 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " I think you may risk his not taking a great deal of 
 notice, intelhgent notice, of anything he hears." 
 
 "But does Kenny want me to come back ? " 
 
 She had said she hated him. Yet, it was having been 
 here a week, without a sign from him, that had hurt 
 her, and had prompted her to fall in with her father's 
 urgent desire for a divorce. 
 
 It was Errington's understanding of good women, 
 that new understanding which Berenice had given him, 
 that helped him to divine Lihan. She had lain in the 
 man's arms, she had borne him a child, the least kind- 
 ness from him would have held her, kept her. Errington 
 realised her possibihties, saw what Kenny was throwing 
 away. If only the fellow had any good in him ! But 
 in any case he must have his chance. It was the Sphinx 
 who had ordained it. 
 
 " Certainly he wants you to go back. I was with him 
 nearly all yesterday. It is really at his instance I am 
 here." 
 
 She was incredulous at first. It was with difficulty 
 Errington persuaded her that her husband really wanted 
 her. In the end, he thought it better to tell her some- 
 thing of the truth. For he knew what she must do, what 
 he must teU her to do, though at first he had not the 
 words for it, because his judgment was against him. 
 Who could float into harboiir such a derehct as Kenny ? 
 Was he not asking her, instead, to sink with him ? Was 
 he not taking out of her hands her last chance of safety 1 
 He dared not think, he must go on with his mission. 
 
 But he softened perilously towards his victim. He 
 vowed himself to her service, he would stand by her 
 in staunch friendship, he would help her with sympathy 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 247 
 
 and understanding, he would stand by both of them if 
 he succeeded in saving Kenny from the results of his 
 imprudence, and bringing him and his wife together in 
 amity. 
 
 " Listen," he began. She raised her head at the altered 
 timbre of his voice. 
 
 " Any woman could do what you proposed doing, 
 any weak girl can shuffle out of a difficult place, Ue her- 
 self out of it, wriggle free. You might be able to get a 
 divorce from your husband, with me to help you, by 
 lying and exaggeration, by abandoning modesty, decency, 
 truth. I won't deceive you about that, it could be done ; 
 the divorce laws are very elastic, the judges easily im- 
 posed upon." 
 
 He began to walk about the room again, he could 
 not face her eyes. He knew he was going to succeed, 
 but his coming success was bitter in his mouth. 
 
 " But this is not the course for you. You belong 
 to a race noted for their virtue, for the fine quahties of 
 their women. You are not going to degrade the race, 
 your sex, by leaving Kenny to his fate, by attacking 
 him at a moment when he is most vulnerable." He 
 paused again, purposely, to create an effect. 
 
 " Most vulnerable ? " she questioned, her interest 
 quickly roused. " How ? in what way ? " 
 
 " Kenny has got himself into a terrible scrape, a scrape 
 so terrible that it might end in social ostracism, disgrace, 
 imprisonment." 
 
 " That ,was what Aunt Elsa came to tell me . . . 
 and^I wouldn't hsten. . . . Was that what Aunt Elsa 
 came to tell me 1 " she asked breathlessly. " Go on," 
 she said to him, " I must hear, go on." 
 
248 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " You have the boy to think of, to count the cost to 
 the boy. If a prison stain were on his father " 
 
 "Prison! Good Heavens ! Prison! What has he 
 done ? " 
 
 " He has done nothing," he answered quickly. " But 
 he has got into bad company. He has let himself be 
 suspected. It might be difficult, it might be impossible, 
 to prove his innocence." 
 
 " How can I help ? What can I do 1 " 
 
 He saw how easily he could influence her, how he 
 could make his appeal. He answered decisively, as 
 if he himself had no doubts. 
 
 " Be strong, instead of weak. Stand beside, instead 
 of against, the man in whose arms you have lain, to whom 
 you have borne a child. Whatever his faults, you are 
 his wife. The tie between you is eternal ; you may try 
 to break it, but the child is the pledge of it between you. 
 It is child as well as husband you will fling to the wolves 
 if you drive on recklessly to the divorce court." 
 
 He went on talking. He had great gifts of tact, 
 of intuition ; and his Ufe with Berenice had taught him 
 how good women feel. He slurred over Kenny's cha- 
 racter, Kenny's unkindness. It was of Lihan he was 
 thinking, of her and her son, he told her. If she would 
 go back to Eton Avenue, at once, to-day, and let Kenny 
 join her there, when the time came that he could do so 
 with safety, be seen with him, be prepared, if necessary, 
 to say that he had been with her at such and such a 
 time, she would save herself from what might be a 
 hfetime of regret, her son from what might be a hfe- 
 time of obloquy. He spoke, as only he could speak, 
 of prison indignities and their result on character. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 249 
 
 Kenny had still his self-respect, if he were deprived of 
 that. . . ' 
 
 Of course he succeeded. All his arguments moved her. 
 He appealed to all her fineness. She had pride of race 
 and pride of maternity, and a personal pride. If Kenny 
 was in trouble she must go back to him. Perhaps (it 
 was a poor forlorn " perhaps," hke a dim hght against 
 the black background of that return to Eton Avenue) 
 he would be grateful to her, and become kinder. Her 
 hatred for him was a weak thing compared with what 
 her love for him might have been, might yet be, if he 
 depended on her. 
 
 There was roused in her by Errington, as he spoke, an 
 inherent womanly longing to be of service. And, if she 
 could serve Kenny, she might come again to love him. 
 She wotild try. There had been moments when she 
 thought he loved her, she had seen sometimes in his eyes 
 that he did not despise her. Now she would go to him 
 with help in her hands. 
 
 Dimly, for alas ! he had disappointed her too often 
 for it to be aught but dimly, hope dawned to Ught her 
 sacrifice. 
 
 Their interview left her with this will-o'-the-wisp of 
 hope. It shone from Errington's green eyes. He would 
 be her friend, would stand by her in her married fife. 
 
CHAPTEE XIV 
 
 Manny Henry was not satisfied when he heard from 
 Errington, and from his daughter, that she was going 
 back to Eton Avenue. For, once Errington had 
 inspired her, she was as passionately bent on the 
 one course as she had been on the other. She would 
 have hked to join Kenny in Spain immediately ; she 
 was with difficulty persuaded that it was unnecessary. 
 She was unformed in mind, undisciphned, impulsive, 
 full of possibihties for good or evil, but it had become 
 suddenly definite with her that, if Kenny was in trouble, 
 her place was by his side. She was bitterly ashamed 
 she had left him. Her father knew her too weU to 
 try to control or persuade her, but he spoke his mind 
 freely to her lawyer. 
 
 " It won't last — you mark my words — it won't last," 
 he said. " You're a clever fellow, and you've talked 
 her over; I saw all the time, what you 'ad in your 
 mind. And I daresay you've done what you thought 
 right. But Kenny is a worthless, drunken, lazy black- 
 guard, and it can't turn out well." 
 
 He was very cast down and dispirited. He went on : 
 
 " Did I ever tell you how Lil's mother died ? She 
 
 ran something into her foot one day, and the place 
 
 festered. She doctored it with ointments, she treated 
 
 it with poultices ; she laid up, and the doctor put it 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 251 
 
 in splints. Nothing did it no good. Wtien she got 
 thoroughly ill, I called in a big pot, and he said it was 
 gangrened. He said that if she didn't 'ave 'er toe ofi, 
 she'd 'ave to 'ave her foot off, she'd soon 'ave to 'ave 
 her leg off, and if she didn't 'ave 'er leg off, why she'd 
 go off herself ! 
 
 Not me,' she says, ' I'm not goin' to have my toe 
 cut off. I've 'ad it forty-one years, I've got used to it, 
 and I'm going to keep it. We couldn't move 'er from 
 that. Well ! it spread, the badness spread — and she 
 died. I've often thought of that. Kenny is just a 
 bad toe. 'E ought to be cut off. Lil and the boy, 
 and me, are clean and well, let's cut the festering hmb 
 off from us. If we don't, it wiU spread and spread, to 
 me or to Lil, or to the boy. We shaU suffer, you mark 
 my words, Kenny will spread, bad will come of it — cut 
 'im off. That's my last word. You and she can settle 
 what you hke, I've heard all you've got to say. But 
 you 'aven't moved me, not a hair. And there's scrip- 
 ture for it too, ' If an eye offend thee ' — Eh ? " 
 
 " There is something in the same book about ' seventy 
 times seven,' I think, Mr Henry," Errington answered 
 him, laughingly, as he bade him good-night. 
 
 But Manny's misgivings were not without their echoes 
 in his own breast. These were in his mind the next 
 morning, when he breakfasted with his wife, and showed 
 himself so irritable and hard to please. 
 
 Lihan would want a woman friend to stand beside 
 her in the hfe she was pledged to resume with Kenny. 
 Yet, misguided instinct prevented him, or delayed 
 him, asking this service of Berenice. Elsa Beethoven 
 was Lihan's aunt, he did not want his wife to meet Elsa. 
 
252 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Then, there was the Sphinx ! She had told him 
 she intended to see much of Kenny's wife, to teach her to 
 adapt herself to him. What could Berenice do in such 
 an atmosphere, save grow contaminated ? No ! that 
 was impossible, she was iuAancibly white, and could 
 take no stain ; but still, he persuaded himself, he must 
 not expose her to it. 
 
 He thought of Lilian with increasing pity, but it 
 was himself, and not his wife, he would trust to help 
 her. 
 
 He went up to see her more than once in the few days 
 that it was necessary to keep Kenny away. She was 
 intelUgent, companionable, eager, and quick to learn, 
 very conscious of her deficiencies. When he talked 
 entourage to her, and persuaded her, and himself, that 
 Kenny's virtues would flourish better if she would add 
 palms to her pretty drawing-room, flowers to her diimer- 
 table, cushions to her sofas, he had a ready hstener. 
 She was quick in learning, already in that week of 
 Kenny's absence she made strides in her social edu- 
 cation. She gathered so soon, on so slight a hint, 
 that it was unnecessary to intrude her race and rehgion 
 constantly upon the attention of her chance acquaint- 
 ances. She might be proud of both, but, if she were 
 proud of her hair, or her teeth, or her complexion, she 
 would still behave modestly in not mentioning them. 
 She was really humble-minded, she took all Errington's 
 hints, and suggestions and advice to heart, and profited by 
 all of them. 
 
 That he came to her as he did, so frequently and in- 
 formally, and treated her with such tender and considerate 
 camaraderie, won tempestuous gratitude from her. He 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 253 
 
 hushed her words of gratitude. She was not yet quite 
 at ease with Mm, but his influence over her grew. 
 
 The business connected with the Portland Place 
 aSair gave him long and anxious work. To find out 
 what Scotland Yard knew, and what were its intentions, 
 was in itself a task of infinite difficulty. Only one of the 
 prisoners was the actual chent of the office ; but he was 
 one of the old gang, and Errington could not refuse 
 to help him. And there was only one way to avoid 
 Algernon Heseltine's fate for him. From hatred of 
 imprisonment and its results, from abhorrence of the 
 physical cruelty and moral degradation of it, Errington 
 could never free himself. Lord Belville was neurotic and 
 ill and old. Why torture him to death ? His vicious- 
 ness was feeble and emasculate, it could not attract 
 or corrupt. 
 
 Such argument had the inevitable result. Lord 
 Belville's appearance at the police court was his first 
 and last appearance in the case, or, it may be added, 
 in England. His recognisances were estreated. It was 
 with difficulty the firm of Keimard and Carker, 
 respectable and important as they were, escaped the 
 consequences of their chent's disappearance. Awkward 
 questions were asked and complications threatened. 
 That, in the end, orders were issued from high quarters 
 that the matter was to be dropped, made the immediate 
 position no less deUcate and dangerous. 
 
 Kenny's return had been delayed; it was better he 
 should take no risks. Lihan was ready to go out to him, 
 ready to receive him at home, ready to swear anything 
 that was necessary, even to his having been with her at 
 any particular date. She was now quite as eager to be of 
 
254 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 use as she had been determined on cutting herself adrift 
 from him. 
 
 The time came when Errington was convinced that 
 Kenny du Gore had been neither seen nor recognised, 
 but, in the meantime, he had certainly done all and more 
 than he had promised in influencing Kenny's wife. 
 
 Berenice, during these anxious and distracting 
 weeks, saw her husband strained and ill at ease, un- 
 like himself. He was spasmodically gay, at other 
 times silent, satirical, or even irritable, but he was always 
 her beloved, and she thought it was his conscience that 
 was troubhng him on account of his conduct to her 
 brother. She strove to show him that it had made no 
 difierence between them, that she in no way resented it. 
 But an intangible barrier had arisen between them ; 
 she was shut out from his confidence. She thought it 
 was Harry who stood between her and her husband, 
 she could not banish the memory of that evening when 
 Errington had almost said it. 
 
 But Harry himself was ill, unhappy, troubled, and she 
 could not stay away from him ; she felt Ms need of her. 
 When, rarely, she thought of herself, it was to know that 
 the craving for Errington's love and confidence was 
 agonising, overwhelming. Her heart had constant ache 
 for him. 
 
 She went much into society, too, just now. She 
 would not allow the conversation to be hurriedly dropped 
 on her approach, when she reahsed, that it was the 
 Portland Place trial, or the scene at the dinner-table, 
 that had been under discussion, that Errington's fitness to 
 represent the Kent constituency was being questioned 
 by those who commented, remembered, or wished to 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 255 
 
 hear the detail, of his connection with the Heseltine 
 case. Quite simply she gave her version of it to the 
 cavillers, the version she had evolved. It was not so 
 very far from the truth, and her beUef in it influenced 
 many of her hearers. 
 
 To her, it seemed always that Errington had been 
 moved in his actions by pity, by the friendlessness of him 
 to whom all the world had once stood friend. She 
 spoke eloquently of what Algernon Heseltine had suffered, 
 and of the death he had died. 
 
 There is no doubt she made her effect. Errington was 
 not asked to withdraw his name, no steps antagonistic to 
 his interests were taken by the party. 
 
 But the knowledge of the hostile undercurrents, of 
 the deUcacy of the position, filled her with dismay when 
 she reahsed that her husband was actually engaged on 
 behalf of the prisoners in the Portland Place case, that 
 already there were rumours of the escape of one of the 
 principal malefactors, and that Errington had been 
 cognisant of his flight. Still, it is possible she would 
 have lacked the courage to open the subject with her 
 husband, had not the divided duty suddenly become 
 single, the barred gate to his confidence suddenly re- 
 opened. 
 
 Harry's cough had increased, a growing emaciation 
 had become evident, one day a shght haemorrhage 
 alarmed them both, and in haste they had sought the 
 rooms of one of the popular consultants, who made the 
 lungs a specialty. The usual biassed and valueless 
 opinion was procured. Harry's lungs were affected by 
 the sudden change of chmate. The London fogs were 
 doing him harm; he must get away at once. The 
 
256 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Riviera, St. Moritz, Davos Platz ? It was aU one to 
 Sir Marmion Stuke, who was holiday-making himself 
 over Christmas, and had no need of patients until 
 February. He bowed them out of the room with as 
 much courtesy as his next appointment allowed him 
 time for. 
 
 It had been decided that Harry should go to San 
 Remo. It was Harry's departure for Italy that freed 
 Berenice ; for now there was no incident in her daily hfe 
 over which she must sliir. When she kissed Harry good- 
 bye on the cold foggy platform at Victoria at nine o'clock 
 that winter morning, her anxiety about his health was 
 dimmed and overshadowed by the beating of her heart, 
 by her hurry to get away, to go back to Errington, 
 who knew her early errand, whose smile had made her 
 think that it was only for this he had been waiting. 
 She could not know that his own anxieties were lessened, 
 the worst difficulties surmounted. 
 
 Harry looked well that morning, his eyes were bright, 
 his cheeks were flushed ; Berenice's trouble for him 
 was quite subordinate to her anxiety as to whether his 
 departure would influence Errington's manner to her, 
 and bring him back to her. 
 
 Indeed, for many reasons, Errington was glad 
 that Harry Annesley was leaving England. Harry's 
 fresh complications were not such a secret from him 
 as they were from his sister. For, now and again, a 
 word from Manny Henry, or from Lihan, or from 
 the two of them together, made him aware that Elsa 
 Beethoven had been talking to them of his wife, or of 
 her brother. And he knew Elsa so well ; now and 
 again he had a certain vague uneasiness lest her intimacy 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 257 
 
 with Harry Annesley should prove mischievous. She 
 was certainly not visiting the Albany so constantly for 
 le bon motif. 
 
 Of course, there was no secret about his own visits 
 to the house in Eton Avenue ; they had been business, 
 pure business. And now Kenny was on his way back. 
 But Errington had a new sensitiveness to gossip, and it 
 seemed to him that, when Harry was gone, the source of 
 it would be cut off. 
 
 So Berenice's expectations were more than reahsed. 
 Errington met her in the hall, and reheved her of her 
 wraps, chid her gently for venturing out on so inaus- 
 picious a morning, and drew her into the morning-room, 
 where a second breakfast awaited her. He had ordered 
 it himself, when he heard that she had gone out 
 after only a hurried cup of tea. It was sweet for her 
 to be waited upon by him, to feel the old kindness 
 in his manner, and see the dear Hght of afiection in his 
 eyes. 
 
 Presently she had finished her breakfast ; they were 
 talking as, but a few long weeks ago, they had talked 
 daily. Suddenly they were back in the beautiful in- 
 timacy of happy married hfe. But, when the con- 
 versation turned on his electoral chances, painful and 
 difficult as it was, she felt she must tell him what she 
 knew, caution him where he was in jeopardy. 
 
 She approached the matter timidly, apologetically. 
 He encouraged her to speak out. He had hated the 
 new home atmosphere, and fought with himself to clear 
 it ; his feeling for his wife had not varied, it was only that 
 his nerves had played him tricks when he was in her 
 company. He wanted things to be as they had been. 
 
258 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 His intercourse with Lilian made tlie assurance ot his 
 devotion to his wife imperative. 
 
 He listened to Berenice as she tried to tell him what 
 she feared. The diifident tenderness with which she 
 spoke showed him again the lovehness of her nature. 
 Not of herself was she thinking, nor place nor power 
 for herself had part in her thoughts ; but she could 
 not let him imperil his ambitions, his just ambitions, 
 because she feared to let him know what people were 
 saying. 
 
 He drew her down on to his knee, quite soon after she 
 began to speak, and made her rest her head against his 
 shoulder. Her eyes had grown a Uttle tired these days, 
 her face a httle pale. 
 
 " So you think I should not have taken up this case, 
 not have jeopardised my chances ? " 
 
 " I think whatever you do is right." There was a 
 httle break in her voice. Short as had been their 
 estrangement, she had suffered greatly under it. Now 
 that she was back in her place with him it was difficult 
 to keep from tears. " I always think what you do is 
 right." 
 
 She hoped he would know all for which she could not 
 find words. A httle kiss lay, with a tear, on his coat sleo.ve 
 before she went on : 
 
 " But the election will be in January, they think. 
 Although there is no other candidate before them, they 
 won't put forward one whose — whose conduct can be 
 questioned. It has occurred so often, always on our 
 side — that a non-poHtical point has proved stronger 
 than pohtics. And the fight will be uphill, anyway. 
 They are so uninstructed ; Free Trade is such a simple 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 259 
 
 shibboleth, with tradition behind it, and all the mis- 
 conceptions of changing circumstances." 
 
 " How well you have been coached ! " He stroked 
 her hair ; how fine it was, and soft ! " So they have 
 told you all that ? And what am I to do, what do you 
 think I am to do ? Abandon everything to my own 
 advancement ? " 
 
 " Is it your own advancement only ? You are such a 
 passionate Protectionist, is it not for the country's 
 good that you should be in the House ? " 
 
 " The greatest good of the greatest number ! Yes, 
 perhaps, perhaps that would be altruism set to music. 
 You are a very special pleader, my wife of wives." 
 
 And, holding her in his arms, he wondered how httle 
 he shoidd tell her. 
 
 Of course, he knew, he knew as well as Berenice did, 
 that the candidate for the Kent constituency must be 
 beyond reproach. The prurient purity of the provincial 
 mind was no secret to him. But there was nothing 
 to be definitely said, or proved, against him. Lord 
 Belville was in Egypt, and Kenny du Gore was back in 
 Eton Avenue. The case had been already heard, chiefly 
 in camera, and nothing had transpired that could affect 
 his position. 
 
 Because he was safe, he could afford to be disingenuous. 
 She had spoken of Lord Belville, well, he would tell her of 
 Kenny du Gore. He was growing interested in Lilian, 
 he hked talking round and about her. 
 
 " It was the Sphinx who asked me to take up the 
 matter. Harry Belville is one of Algernon's oldest 
 friends, and, as for Kenny du Gore " 
 
 He sketched Kenny's career, giving her a Bowlderised 
 
260 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 version of it ; his father was well known to everybody. 
 He told her vaguely of Kenny's peril, then that he had a 
 wife. Manny Henry was described, mimicked. His 
 egotism and accent were brought out, his pecuharities 
 accentuated. When, incidentally, Berenice heard it was 
 his daughter that Kenny du Gore had married, the in- 
 ference was obvious. 
 
 " But they have a boy, a fascinating, charming httle 
 fellow. He is hke the old General, a splendid Httle chap ; 
 I think he will bear his grandfather's name worthily. 
 Now, tell me, wife of mine, could I let him go through 
 hfe stained, tainted by his father's conviction ? Come, 
 teU me your mind. You know them aU now — BelviUe, 
 who is over sixty, one leg in the grave, a warning, 
 not a temptation; Manny Henry, who adores his 
 daughter; Kenny, who meant no evil when he 
 went to that unhappy house; Everard, that dear 
 boy ; the Sphinx, who called on me, by the memory 
 of old times, to help them through. Should I have 
 given them aU up, let what might happen to them, in 
 order to write M.P. after my name ? Come, you have 
 never advised me, advise me now. Shovdd I have 
 let the whole thing shde, Kenny and his wife, and 
 his httle son, Belville and the Sphinx ? Should I have 
 saved my skin, or not risked it, at the expense, or 
 possible expense, of theirs ? Or, was I right to stick 
 to my guns, at any cost, and find my reward in having 
 once more dodged the cruelty of the Criminal Laws, 
 saved man once more, from the inhumanity of man ? " 
 Her nature had not the hghtness of his. His appeal 
 for her opinion was scarcely serious, but she took it 
 seriously. She did not answer him quickly, she was too 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 261 
 
 happy to feel Ins arms about her again, to know herself 
 safe in the shelter she so loved. Yet, though she knew 
 the way his inchnation lay, the answer he wished her 
 to make, she had the courage of her convictions. 
 
 " You are right, dear, exquisitely right, in much that 
 you say, in aU that you feel. But I cannot forget what 
 Norman used to tell me : ' Characters never alter, 
 they only develop. Plant a potato, and never mind 
 how much you dress, or top dress the soil, it is only a 
 potato will come up.' And 'if there is a flaw in the 
 seed, there will be a flaw in the fruit.' To save old 
 Lord Belville from Algernon Heseltine's fate was good. 
 But Kenny du Gore ! He is young, if he should develop 
 in vice, if his wife should suffer through him — I have a 
 feehng, a dread, I don't know why, I can't explain it, 
 a presentment, as if evil might come of it." 
 
 These were Manny Henry's words. 
 
 " I shan't take my eyes off him. I can make him 
 behave properly to his wife; it means the sacrifice of a 
 few afternoons, an occasional evening." 
 
 Disingenuousness was not a difficulty with him, he 
 revelled in it. He promised Berenice he would not 
 neglect the interests of Kenny du Gore's wife. 
 
 " But — but — " it was difficult, it was painful to her, 
 but she must be open with him, and tell him her mind. 
 " Is it worth while ? Is he worth the sacrifices ? It may 
 be asked, what you owe him, or — or any of them, that you 
 give yourself, your political friends, this — ^this anxiety 
 about you. If you go to his house, are intimate with 
 him in a way " 
 
 But still her arms were about him, and her head was 
 against his breast. It was charming of her to care so 
 
262 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 mucli; her shyness too was charming. She was the 
 ideal wife, the ideal woman ; he did not underrate what 
 he possessed. 
 
 In all seriousness he promised he would not compromise 
 himself by an intimacy with Kenny du Gore. He 
 enjoyed for the moment the exquisite irony of the 
 suggestion she so unconsciously made. All his natural 
 gaiety and good-humour returned to him. He even 
 asked after Harry's health, and hoped his trip would 
 benefit him. He went off to the office in the highest 
 spirits. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 Since his marriage, until now, Errington Welch- 
 Kennard had not fallen from a certain ideal of conduct 
 and thought. Whether, through the recurring influence 
 of the Sphinx, or the old associations that this new case 
 revived, or mere reaction, at this moment his ideals 
 shifted ; or, at least, he had an optical ^delusion of their 
 shifting. There is no doubt Lilian du Gore, as an 
 " adventure," or a " chance," or the eternal feminine, 
 naturally man's prey, occupied the place in his mind that 
 should have been filled with weightier affairs. 
 
 Immediately after the poKce court stage of the pro- 
 ceedings, Kenny had returned, and, as Berenice had 
 correctly predicted, Kenny was practically unaltered. 
 He was still utterly selfish, unrehable in money matters, 
 fond of champagne. 
 
 But Lihan was different. The lawyer, seeing her so 
 often, for, although the excuse of keeping her aware of 
 what was going on was over, the habit of going up 
 to Eton Avenue after business hours had not been 
 dropped, was conscious of a new humiUty and softness 
 in her. 
 
 It was her natuie to be quickly moved, passionate, and 
 impulsive. It was her misfortune to have had only a 
 High School education, to be unread and uncultured; 
 but she had the instinct of self-improvement. Kenny 
 
264 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 had attracted her by his superficial superiority, Erring- 
 ton impressed her by his difierence from both him 
 and her father. She came to hang on his words, she 
 wanted desperately that he should think well of her. 
 If he mentioned a book, she eagerly procured and 
 read it ; once he spoke of some one as dressing " flam- 
 boyantly," and from that time she wore only grey or 
 brown. 
 
 She knew he noted and approved. Sometimes she 
 caught a gleam in his eyes that told her so. If there 
 was more than approval to be read in that gleam, 
 she had not read it. He was in every way so far removed 
 from her. 
 
 How could she dream that her unconsciousness tempted 
 him ? Errington knew it was he who was giving the 
 impetus to her development. That he should profit 
 nothing by it in his personal relations with her would be 
 unfair. Perhaps the beginning and end of it was that 
 his vanity was piqued. 
 
 Errington Welch-Kennard had his weakness, the 
 weakness of most men. Lilian du Gore found her way 
 to it. She hurt his vanity, she piqued that vanity 
 pecuHar to a man beyond his fortieth year, who has been 
 homme galant in his youth. For, although she was so 
 proud of his friendship for her, and was developing visibly 
 under his tuition, she neither blushed at his coming nor 
 paled at his going. It was he who had told her it was 
 her duty to return to Kenny. He had praised her race, 
 her people, she would prove his praise was justified ; 
 that was all. 
 
 Kenny's habitual half-contemptuous manner, his want 
 of words to express his gratitude or appreciation, his 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 265 
 
 carelessness and apparent indifierence, gave her no help. 
 But, nevertheless, her character and capacity grew with 
 her endeavours to improve. 
 
 Errington spoke of Lilian to the Sphinx, when he 
 went to report how well things had gone at Bow Street, 
 and Sybil, divining more than he told, grew curious 
 about her. She asked Kenny not very long after his re- 
 turn, to bring Lilian to Hans Crescent. He was very 
 flattered by the invitation. 
 
 " It is very kind of you, but I'm afraid she will bore 
 you. She doesn't know anything of the world, you know. 
 She is all right in her way, and, of course, she behaved 
 very well over that affair. Kennard admires her, he was 
 there nearly every afternoon while I was away. But 
 she isn't your type." 
 
 " Dear Kenny ! which is it, are you a little proud of 
 her, or a httle ashamed ? Anyway, I'm interested, I 
 want to see her. Bring her up to morrow." 
 
 So Kenny took her to Hans Crescent one afternoon ; 
 having first rendered her completely nervous, and ill 
 at ease, by his instructions as to her behaviour. Under 
 the circumstances, as was natural, the visit was a com- 
 plete failure. Lilian was irritated by all she had been 
 told, uneasy as to the impression she would produce, 
 awkward through his very anxiety, and altogether at 
 her worst. 
 
 And the Sphinx, without intending it, immediately 
 aggravated her unresponsive mood. Lihan did not 
 understand satire or irony, she resented the tone of the 
 conversation between her hostess and her husband. 
 The Sphinx's abnormal hair and pallor made an unwhole- 
 some impression, her strange talk accentuated it. Lihan 
 
266 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 could not doubt her state of health. Poor Sybil could 
 hardly move, and the hnes of sufiering about her sunken 
 eyes and pathetic mouth were too clear to be misread. 
 It was a dying woman who jeered and jested. All the 
 wholesome natural instincts of Kenny's wife rose up and 
 rebelled against the exotic atmosphere of the Hans 
 Crescent drawing-room, and its paralysed mistress. 
 
 " It was so sweet of you to come and see me," Sybil 
 had said. " Why didn't you tell me your wife was so 
 handsome, Kenny 1 She is adorable ; I hke that mutine 
 mouth, scarlet-hpped, those sombre sullen eyes. But 
 tell me, now do teU me, why you dress so badly. I am 
 so out of the world. Is it the vogue now to be badly 
 dressed, or do you think it more effective, more original ? 
 You must come to me, without Kenny, one morning, 
 and talk chifEons. Brown ! Now do explain to me 
 what makes you wear brown. I should have thought 
 scarlet or orange, and heavy scents, mystery and 
 magnoha blossoms, were more in your style. That is 
 what I understood from Errington, that you accentuated 
 the East in you, not ignored it. But, of course, you 
 have some point of view, some reason for it. It is quite 
 daring, quite new. You must bring her to one of my 
 parties, Kenny. You'll be the only woman, you'll hke 
 that, you'll have a succes fou. I should not be in the least 
 surprised if Frank Dickenson suggests you grow whiskers, 
 that is his way of making love. And how do you like 
 my lawyer ? " She went on, to Lihan, who was scarlet 
 with rage or shame, and looked handsomer than ever. 
 " Quite beautiful, isn't he ? But you mustn't flirt with 
 him, you mustn't have an affair with him ; he is 
 quite devoted to his wife. And all that he has over is 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 267 
 
 mine, isn't it, Kenny ? You know all about him and 
 me, don't you ? Or haven't you thought it fit for her ? 
 Dear boy ! You know your husband has always been 
 jealous of him, don't you ? " 
 
 Lihan looked both sullen and insulted. Sybil's con- 
 versational methods were not those of Eussell Square. 
 
 " And why did they call you Lily ? I suppose it was 
 because your are so dark. I think Brooking would 
 admire her," she went on, contemplatively regarding 
 her silent and indignant guest, "if I prepared him a 
 little. He hasn't been in love since he was in love with 
 Berenice D'Arcy. I suppose you are awfully dull with 
 Kenny ? Brooking is quite amusing, an artist, too, 
 in his way, but so general, a bom collector ; it is 
 curiosity with him, not interest. But you won't mind 
 that, he is so brilliant. Yes ! I must bring you 
 together. You really deserve assistance in your domes- 
 tic fehcity with Kenny. Kenny is such a bad boy. 
 Shall I send Brooking to survey the landscape ? You'll 
 dress carefully the first time, won't you ? Of course, 
 we must avoid the mandohne eSect. But there are 
 possibihties, great possibilities." 
 
 LiUan said afterwards that Sybil looked at her as if 
 she were a model ! It was all very light and flippant 
 and meaningless. The Sphinx was racked with physical 
 agony all the time she was speaking, she could hardly 
 command her voice. And she meant to be kind to 
 Kenny's wife, to show her that she appreciated her 
 action ; to put her in the way of attracting, of keeping, 
 her husband's interest. But pain tore at her, so it 
 seemed essential she shoidd jest and smile and show 
 no sign of it. She was glad to see the two together. 
 
268 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 In her sentient moments she was full of gratitude to 
 Lilian, as to Errington, for saving Kenny from the 
 consequence of the mission she had imposed on him. 
 She had told Errington, and herself, passionately, that 
 she could not have died, if she had had the responsibility 
 of Kenny's ruin. And she so craved for death. But, 
 without morphia to lull her, she was hardly sane in these 
 last days. Her renunciation of the drug since Kenny 
 had been in danger was pitiably brave. She had not 
 taken ease since his peril. The words she wanted for 
 Lihan were none of the words she spoke. 
 
 No one understood her but Errington. He tried 
 to explain her to Lihan, when he saw her the next 
 day, and she told him how she hated and resented the 
 Sphinx. 
 
 " I know now that it is she who has encouraged 
 Kenny to be what he is, it is to her that I owe every- 
 thing," she said tragically. She had none of Berenice's 
 wide charity, he could not make her see into the springs 
 of this distorted conduct, although he had had such 
 influence with her. She was really of narrow outlook, 
 with one idea, like a child, or an ante-vivisectionist. 
 
 Her one idea was the one that Errington Welch- 
 Kennard had taught her. It was that, having taken 
 Kenny du Gore for her husband, she owed him loyalty 
 and allegiance. It did not yet occur to her that she was 
 learning more than this from the lawyer. She conceived a 
 great distrust of, and aversion, to the Sphinx, and rightly 
 conjectured her influence over Kenny had been bad. 
 
 The discussions between her and the lawyer on this 
 subject were frequent. Perhaps to hear Errington 
 so warm in the Sphinx's defence, and even in her praises, 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 269 
 
 made another point against her. Lilian had got the 
 word " friendship " very definitely in her mind, but 
 she was jealous in her friendships ! Kenny did not 
 improve matters when he came home one afternoon 
 early from the club ; and, finding Everard reciting one of 
 his httle pieces to the lawyer, said : 
 
 " She bores you with the boy, I suppose ! That is in 
 self-defence, that is because the Sphinx warned her not 
 to flirt with you; she looks upon the boy as a protection 
 against you ! " He laughed that obnoxious soft laugh 
 of his which his wife hated. 
 
 " She is awfully respectable, she must have her 
 flirtations chaperoned." 
 
 " I don't flirt. How dare you say it, you know it isn't 
 true ; it's wicked to say such things ! " 
 
 Her scarlet cheeks and indignant protest seemed to 
 amuse Kenny, to encourage him. 
 
 " Does she try and flirt with you, Kennard ? By 
 the fuss she is making I suppose she does. I don't 
 suppose she is very good at it, no subtlety, eh ? " 
 
 He had an easy famihar way of looking at, and speaking 
 to, his wife. Whatever high opinion he might have of 
 her good quahties, there was no doubt he was still under 
 the impression that he had married beneath him. He 
 made it always evident both to Errington and herself 
 that this was so. 
 
 " Virtue is one of the most pronbinent middle-class 
 shibboleths. I bet she'll play it ofi on you in the end. 
 Don't you expect anything from her. And what do 
 you tMnk of the boy ? Not much of the bucket- 
 shopkeeper about him, is there ? He's a thorough du 
 Gore." 
 
270 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " I'd rather lie were dead," she cried, bursting into 
 tears, gathering the child up in her arms, " than grow 
 up to be hke you, cruel, and jeering and bad." 
 
 It was so easy to try her new self-restraint beyond 
 its weak Umit, and Kenny found it amusing. Even 
 Errington noticed how emotion became her, and added 
 brilhancy to her sombre beauty. 
 
 " There she goes," Kenny spoke in the same soft even 
 tone, " one fit of temper after another. I had begun 
 to think she was improving. But there is no repose 
 about her; nothing of the Vere de Vere. And what am 
 I supposed to have done now ? " 
 
 " You Uve on my father, you eat his food, you wear 
 his clothes. He works for us, for you and for me. You 
 teach the boy to despise him." 
 
 " I suppose I ought to send him to a fried-fish 
 shop to learn manners. Eh ! young un ? You'd hke 
 to be hke Grandpa Henry, wouldn't you, and keep a 
 shop ? " 
 
 " I want to be a soldier, I want to be hke Grandpa 
 General," a flush came over the fair face, he wrenched 
 himself from his mother's arms. " I don't want to keep 
 a shop, and be a tradesman." 
 
 " That's right, so you shall. Stand up hke a man, 
 and don't let your mother molly-coddle you. Don't 
 go, Kennard, stay and have a whisky and soda 
 and a chat. There are two or three things I want 
 to talk to you about. Did you get that whisky I 
 told you ? " he asked Lihan, who had recovered from 
 her sudden rage, due perhaps to the presence of Erring- 
 ton. 
 
 " Yes," she said simply. " I'U get it for you." 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 271 
 
 " Oh ! do fall into the way of letting the servants 
 fetch and carry. Drop the Bloomsbury habits. 
 What's the good of keeping dogs and doing your own 
 barking ? " 
 
 But he made no efiort to ring, or to open the door for 
 her. He let her wait on him, when she quickly returned 
 with the tantalus, siphon, and glasses. 
 
 " She's not a bad sort. I told you she wasn't a bad 
 sort. If you Uke Dewar she doesn't get you Kinnahan," 
 he said to the lawyer afterwards, when they were alone. 
 " But she wants a lot of training." 
 
 He went on presently : 
 
 " The Sphinx thinks she is handsome, you think so 
 too, don't you ? She says she would have a great 
 success if she were properly dressed. Her eyes are fine ; 
 don't you think her eyes are fine ? Her hair is down to 
 her waist, great waves of it, she's got, and she is 
 thoroughly well-shaped. . ." 
 
 He added a Uttle more on the same subject. 
 
 With all Errington's faults, it would have been 
 impossible for him to discuss his wife's physical points 
 with another man. He thought Kenny loathsome, yet 
 it was part of the responsibihty he had taken, to keep 
 friendly with him, to swallow his own disgust and let 
 himself be made friend and confidant. He knew Kenny 
 was the type of man who valued most that which other 
 men admired, for the possession of which he was envied. 
 That was one of the reasons why he must not give 
 up his visits to Eton Avenue. And he must let Kenny 
 see that he admired his wife. To carry out the pro- 
 gramme the Sphinx had laid down for Kenny's 
 rehabihtation, it would be well even to arouse 
 
272 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 his jealousy, to risk his noting the frequency ot those 
 visits. 
 
 It was all part of a plan, quite legitimate, and con- 
 ceived in the right spirit; but his pique at Lihan's 
 unconsciousness, at her lack of response to certain 
 speeches, glances, suggestions, was not legitimate. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 No one who saw with understanding eyes could 
 withhold a tribute of admiration from LiUan during those 
 trying days. 
 
 She was still in her twenties, naturally emotional, 
 passionate and somewhat spoiled, painfully ignorant of 
 Ufe. Kenny never let her forget the difference in their 
 social positions. The more he grew to respect her, the 
 less it appeared in his manner. He jeered at her 
 before visitors, before the servants, before her boy. 
 
 Her life was a continual fight against herself, for she 
 wanted to fling out against Kenny, answer him, tell him 
 what she thought, what she felt under his easy insolence. 
 But, always his coolness, and something she saw in him 
 of superior birth or breeding, some remnant of the time 
 when he had been as a god in her eyes, left her degraded 
 by her own passion, by her lack of self-control. It was 
 a continual fight with her father, who, seeing her with 
 pale cheeks and dark hnes under her eyes, knew her 
 imhappy, and urged her to return to his loving care, 
 and the peace of Russell Square. It was a continual 
 fight against the boy, wilful, full of spirit, encouraged 
 in petty rebelhon by his father, childishly rude and 
 disobedient. When he defied or fought her, she lost 
 her temper with him sometimes, being httle more than 
 a child herself, and a most unhappy one. When she was 
 
 s 
 
274 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 so quickly ashamed, for she loved the boy as Jewish 
 mothers love their children, as only unloved wives love 
 their children, she suSered intolerably in her sense of 
 unfitness to rear him. 
 
 In all her troubles, moods, difficulties, it was to Erring- 
 ton Welch-Kennard alone that she could turn for 
 sympathy and understanding; and, at first, he acted 
 his part so well, that her complete unconsciousness of 
 him as a man was counterbalanced by her complete 
 absorption in him as a mentor. 
 
 He paid daily, or almost daily, visits to Eton 
 Avenue. Kenny was always glad to see him there, 
 or to hear he had been. " He's the only decent person 
 who ever comes here," he said often. Yet, to Kenny 
 it was due that the Eton Avenue habitues were of 
 indifferent character. 
 
 It was Errington who taught Lilian to hold a candle 
 to the devil, to meet Kenny on his own ground. It was 
 to earn Errington's praise and approbation that she 
 set herself the task of yielding to Kenny's prejudices, 
 pandering to his weaknesses, satisfying his vanity. 
 She studied horses and cards, as, at sixteen, she had 
 worked for her matriculation. If her impetus was the 
 lawyer's approbation, and his reward her glowing eyes, 
 with the intimacy that was gradually estabhshing itself 
 between them, it was Kenny who benefited by both. 
 
 " Oh ! Errington ! I can't tell you what it is to me to 
 hear that Kenny is all right. I heard he took his wife 
 to Kempton on Saturday, that they were seen together 
 with the boy on Sunday at the Zoo. I'm growing such 
 a weak fool," there was a strange break in the Sphinx's 
 voice, " that I pry into his domestic affairs. I put up 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 275 
 
 with that hateful woman, Elsa Beethoven, in order to 
 hear that Kenny has dined at home, or taken his wife 
 to the theatre, or has been normal in some way or 
 another. I must be coming to the end, Errington, I'm 
 changing so. I wish I could undo all the harm I've 
 done." 
 
 But of the harm she was doing she knew nothing. 
 It was to please her, Errington persuaded himself, 
 that he continued to concern himself with the du Gore 
 menage. The Sphinx was nearing her end. She heard, 
 in that curious way she always had of acquiring know- 
 ledge, all that went on in the du Gore household. What 
 she learnt was that Kenny was leading a hfe, if some- 
 what ignoble, yet not dangerously disreputable. He 
 was dining at home two or three times a week, living 
 apparently within the income his father-in-law allowed 
 him, paying, if only an infinitesimal, yet a definite, divi- 
 dend on the efiorts that were being made to save him. 
 
 She hked to hear that Kenny was seen in pubUc with 
 his wife ; and it was through Errington that this became 
 a more and more frequent occurrence. 
 
 " I met young Tollemache yesterday," he would say 
 carelessly. " He asked me who was that magnificent- 
 looking woman he saw with you at Sandown last week." 
 
 Kermy hked being spoken of as having been seen 
 with a magnificent-looking woman. LiHan was taken 
 to Kempton, and to Hurst Park, to Windsor, and to 
 Lewes. He Uked her to be stared at, it is possible he grew 
 to hke having her with him, since her superior memory 
 and intelligence taught her the various performances 
 of the horses, and the details she culled from RufE's 
 Guide. And it was something to a man of Kenny's 
 
276 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 type to have a companion to find fault with, when a 
 favourite went down, or a " dead cert " was beaten. 
 
 If she had those weary days racing with Kenny, 
 she had her compensation in those afternoons when he 
 played Bridge at the Piccadilly, coming home late, after 
 that inevitably dilatory " last rubber," and Errington 
 AV^elch-Kennard sat with her in that be-chintzed ground- 
 floor drawing-room, and led her slowly but imperceptibly 
 into a new and unknown world. 
 
 Errington was subtly but perpetually aware, never- 
 theless, that her virtue, instinctive, racial, was not 
 consciously yielding, that he was taking, she not giving, 
 the bloom of it under the pretence of friendship; yet, 
 had she been less than she was, she would have held no 
 temptation for him. Through Berenice he had learnt, 
 past forgetting, that virtue is the last magic spell that 
 beauty holds. 
 
 Lihan had no reahsation of danger. Errington's 
 strangely irised, brilhant eyes, and dominating person- 
 ahty, the strong soft tenderness of his handsome hands, 
 his constant kindness and sympathy, the hours she 
 waited for his coming, the efforts she made to please 
 him, the knowledge how constantly he waa in her 
 thoughts, in the background of her dutifulness to Keimy, 
 taught her nothing. He had persuaded her to return 
 to her husband, he had promised her his friendship and 
 help. He was keeping his promise, that was all. 
 She was living to please him, hanging on his praises ; 
 this too taught her nothing. 
 
 In the early days Kenny had flung at her the reproach 
 that she was a prude. He had made her beheve that 
 her iimate modesty was merely part of the want of good 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 277 
 
 manners and good breeding of the bourgeois class. 
 How could she bear the same taunt, the same reproach, 
 from Errington ? 
 
 Therefore, she had accepted his first kiss with scarlet 
 blush, but no demur. It was the afternoon of Kenny's 
 return. She had opened the door herself to the lawyer 
 that day ; her eyes were glowing. 
 
 " He came back this morning, and he was pleased to 
 see me here, I could see he was pleased. He looks 
 quite well and bronzed. Oh ! I'm so glad you made 
 me come back." 
 
 " Are you, child, are you ? And I'm glad too." He 
 had drawn her to him, kissed her, before she guessed his 
 intention. The scarlet flush he answered with surprise : 
 
 " Surely you don't mind ! I thought we were such 
 friends." 
 
 The time came when there was something lacking 
 in his greeting if his cheek failed to brush herS, the time 
 came, too, when he easily found her lips instead of her 
 cheek. And still there was no danger. She drifted but 
 a little way with the currents he essayed to move in her. 
 He was so much older than she ; she had accepted him so 
 unreservedly as counsellor. She was growing in many 
 ways, and unconsciously her strength was pitted against 
 his. Her strength lay in the very virtue that appealed 
 to him, in her love for that wilful passionate boy of hers, 
 in her growing, her ever-growing, sense of duty to the 
 boy's father. 
 
 But those afternoon hours were sweet, perilously sweet. 
 He came in one day when she had been having one of her 
 tussels with Everard. She poured it all out to Erring- 
 ton. The boy was always delicate, the day was foggy, 
 
278 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 and she had ordered that he be kept in bed instead of 
 going for his daily walk in the park. But it appeared 
 that " Vilet " would be waiting for him, and her father 
 had promised to meet them, and give them a " real " 
 drill. Everard had said, " I shall go out, wevver you Hke 
 it or not, I won't be molly-coddled." He had made 
 a rush to get past her, without hat or coat, to get into 
 the street. She had caught him up in her arms, and he 
 had kicked and struggled against her, biting her arms, 
 strugghng with all his childish might; and she had 
 slapped him. She burst into tears when she told Er- 
 rington of it, she had lost all her self-control. She had 
 slapped him as hard as she could; but, ever since she 
 had conquered him, put him to bed, reduced him to 
 tears and obedience, her own tears had been flowing. 
 Even now her hands were trembhng, and the httle sock 
 on her knee that she had been attempting to mend 
 before Errington came in, was wet and sodden with her 
 tears, and the needle was riisted. 
 
 " I am not fit to have a child," she told him. " I 
 don't deserve one. He'll hate me when he grows up. 
 I try all I know, then, I lose my temper; he — he'll 
 never respect or — love me." Her passion and her 
 penitence, the dark and swimming eyes, her trembhng 
 hands, moved him. 
 
 " Dear, do you think, do you really think, he won't 
 love you ? Then, let me love you a Kttle instead." 
 
 He came and sat beside her on the sofa, he put his 
 arms about her. 
 
 " Poor httle child, poor httle lonely girhe. So she 
 lost her temper ! Do you think I don't know how 
 difficult it is, and how brave you are, and good ? " 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 279 
 
 She had exhausted herself with her fit of crying. 
 There was no use telling Kenny any of her difficulties 
 or troubles. He would only jeer at her for being unfit 
 to manage the boy ; but this friend of hers was comfort- 
 ing. She had never before consciously returned a caress 
 of his. Now she let her head rest against his shoulder, 
 to cry there. The work fell from her lap to the fioor. 
 
 " You know some one cares for you, don't you ? " 
 he whispered. She clung to him more closely. 
 
 Her deUcate ear lay near his lips, and he caught 
 it gently. She moved uneasily, but he had the art at 
 his finger-tips. 
 
 " Don't you Kke me to do that ? Then I won't do it." 
 Now it was behind her ear his lips wandered. His 
 arms, too, tightened about her., only to comfort her. 
 
 " Don't move, let me rest you. You Uke me to hold 
 you, don't you ? TeU me, don't be afraid of me, are you 
 getting a httle happier ? " 
 
 The only fight in the room was the flame of the fire. 
 
 " You are not afraid of me, are you ? " he murmured, 
 for he felt her shrinking from the growing hberty of his 
 arms and hps. " I only want to comfort you." 
 
 She had grown accustomed to his light caresses. 
 What was the diSerence in the embrace in which he 
 now held her. Nothing ! StiU there was thriUing 
 through her young lonehness and unhappiness a new 
 emotion. 
 
 But, if he cared for her, if some one cared for her in this 
 miserable world ! She made no effort to separate herself 
 from him. It was only a momentary abandonment, 
 but his response was quick, instantaneous. 
 
 " Darhng ! " 
 
^80 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 For a moment he felt lier young slenderness un- 
 resisting against him. 
 
 Of course, it was unfortunate, it was a thousand times 
 unfortunate, that Aunt Elsa should come in just at this 
 moment, that neither of them had heard her ring, that 
 she was ushered in upon them without preparation or 
 warning. 
 
 The close fire-ht room, the two figures that came apart 
 so suddenly, ^under the quick illumination from the 
 electric switch, provoked Elsa Beethoven into thin- 
 lipped smile, and speech. 
 
 "So zis is how you amuse yourself, ven Kenny is 
 at ze Club ! " 
 
 But her sympathetic smile was wickedness itself. 
 Lilian had no gift of quick retort. The scarlet her 
 cheek hung out was the flag of shame. She felt a 
 sudden horrible reaction and shame before him. She 
 flung swiftly from the room, and there was a sound of 
 a sob as she went. 
 
 Elsa and Errington were left facing each other, and 
 neither of them was quite good to see. 
 
 " Zo, you have not altered," she began, and her eyes 
 and face were wicked. " You are ze same as ever." 
 
 He was a man of resource, not one to be brow-beaten, 
 socially blackmailed, even by a woman. He damned 
 Elsa, internally; but it was of LiHan he was thinking. 
 Poor httle girl ! He must get round the woman somehow, 
 make her keep her mouth shut. 
 
 " Sit down, and don't make a fool of yourself." 
 He smiled at her. He had never stood on ceremony 
 with Elsa, she was to be dealt with only by direct 
 methods. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 281 
 
 " The girl is dull, lonely, and I'm sorry for her. Of 
 course you could make a certain amount of mischief over 
 what you have seen. And you must have been fear- 
 fully shocked," he added humorously. " What are 
 you going to do about it ? That is the important 
 question. What do you conceive it your duty to 
 do?" 
 
 " She is my niece, she is zo ignorant, innocent." 
 Her slow evasiveness amused him. He knew she was 
 exasperated by his taking it so lightly. 
 
 " There is no doubt you must do your duty," he 
 continued gravely. 
 
 " Manny Henry ought to know vat is going on. I 
 sink zat Manny vould hke to know. And zen zere 
 is zat wife of yours, zat wife to whom I am dirt, who 
 pass me by in ze street, who sink me not good enough 
 to sit wiz her brozer. ..." 
 
 Here she was genuine; it was obvious she resented 
 Berenice's attitude. And, even at this moment. Erring- 
 ton was glad and proud that his wife recognised and 
 avoided that which was at the very root of Elsa's 
 being. 
 
 " Where have you met her ? " he asked. " I did not 
 know you had met my wife." He had known, but he 
 wanted to draw her out. 
 
 " At Harry's rooms. I have met her zere often." 
 
 " Harry ? " His eye-brows went up. 
 
 " And vy not ' Harry ? ' Your wife's brozer and 
 I vos friends even before I knew you." 
 
 She simpered when she spoke of Harry Annesley as 
 an old friend. The suggestion that Harry had been 
 her lover lay quite on the surface of her sentimental 
 
282 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 fleeting smile. Her little affectations never varied. 
 Errington caught himself wondering that he had 
 ever been held even for a short week by her cheap 
 charm. 
 
 " Poor Harry ! " he said involimtarily. 
 
 Then her vanity was indeed hurt, and the hard flush 
 in her sallow cheek was the flame of her new hatred for 
 him. 
 
 " Harry is quite happy, quite satisfied," she said. 
 
 " I thought he was ill, just off to Italy." 
 
 " But it is in Italy I join him," she said defiantly. 
 
 " Oh ! and does Sam approve of the httle trip ? " he 
 asked cynically. 
 
 " I go every year to Italy," she rephed. " You know 
 I go every year." It was in Italy they had met. 
 
 "Poor Sam!" 
 
 She might be dangerous, but he could not help 
 rubbing her up the wrong way. Perhaps a compUment 
 or two would have secured her silence, a sign or touch 
 of sentiment, a reminiscence of the past ; but he could 
 not bring himself to it. 
 
 " Poor Sam ! " he said again, " so he still purchases 
 his matrimonial feUcity with that six weeks' holiday ! 
 And this year you are going to honour Harry Annesley 
 with your company. Lucky fellow ! " 
 
 " He does not know Italy. Italy is strange to him, 
 and I, who know it so veil, vill make his stay pleasant." 
 
 He did not quite understand why she was so con- 
 fidential. Also the manner in which she made her com- 
 munication was somewhat defiant. It did not strike 
 him then that she was playing a big game for a definite 
 stake, and that she looked upon this surprising him 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 283 
 
 with Lilian as a point, and an important one, in her 
 favour. 
 
 As the conversation proceeded, however, and she 
 went into details of her journey, he began to see that 
 for some reason, or another, she feared his, or Berenice's, 
 interference. Errington wondered if Harry thought 
 himself imique in the distinction of being her lover, and 
 if it were this illusion in which she feared his being 
 disturbed. But, in truth, there was more than this in 
 her eagerness. 
 
 She had tried more than once to secure Berenice's 
 sufferance. They had met for the second time at Harry's 
 rooms after the haemorrhage, after the consultant's 
 alarming report that the lungs were affected. Elsa 
 had tried that Berenice should appreciate her soUci- 
 tude, should take her into the charmed circle of her 
 interest, and recognise that she too cared for Harry, 
 wished to lighten bis depression, assist in his nursing ; 
 but Berenice had ignored her consistently. 
 
 It had not suited Elsa to resent this openly. Harry 
 was wrapped up in his sister. Her own influence over 
 him was not so strong that she could risk it by speak- 
 ing iU of her he held so dear. Elsa was an opportunist ; 
 in other words she was as ready to crawl as to stand 
 upright. She crawled before Berenice, agreed to do 
 everything she said, belauded and beslavered her; and 
 still Berenice calmly ignored her existence. She bowed 
 to her on entering, or leaving, the room, but she never 
 sat down whilst the other was seated. She dechned 
 to speak of her to Harry. 
 
 " No dear," she would say to him when they were 
 alone, when, a little wistfuUy, he was for starting the 
 
284 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 subject, " I don't want to talk about her. If she is 
 your friend I may not say what I think. We have 
 so many other things to speak about." 
 
 Errington grasped quite soon that Elsa dreaded 
 interference between her and Harry. But why should 
 he interfere, why shouldn't the fellow have his mis- 
 tresses, the same as other men ? Soon he was beginning 
 to smile at Elsa's tactics, to pretend to hesitate in 
 reassuring her, to utter moral platitudes. 
 
 But, by the time Lilian returned, ill at ease, and 
 struggling to conceal it, with averted eyes, but bent on 
 hospitality, it was fairly open between the two that 
 Errington's " affair " with Lihan was to be kept a secret, 
 as the price of his not interfering between Elsa and his 
 brother-in-law. 
 
 It was the habit of the house for httle Everard to come 
 in at tea-time. The presence of visitors, the fracas 
 in the morning, made no difference in the immutable 
 nursery laws. 
 
 Lihan, busy pouring out tea, pressing hot cake and 
 mufiins upon her visitors, but always with those averted 
 eyes, raised them to shoot one glance at Errington, when 
 the boy jumped on to her lap, regardless of the danger 
 from boiling water or buttered muffin, flung his arms 
 about her neck, and told her he was " good now." 
 Painfully she strained him to her, feeling the safety of his 
 sweet love. She had no words for him, they were 
 choked in her throat, but she kissed, and murmured 
 over, him, and the eyes raised that one moment over 
 his head to meet Errington's, were full of a pathetic 
 triumph. 
 
 " How you spoil zat boy," said Elsa easily from 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 285 
 
 behind the refuge of her teacup. " It is so bad for boys 
 to be made a fuss over ; I sent both mine to school 
 vhen zey were five." 
 
 " You would have sent Uncle Sam there too, if you 
 could," Lilian retorted, holding her boy closer. Nothing 
 could cure ber of her impetuosity. No one must dare 
 talk of rending Everard from her arms ; she covered him 
 with jealous kisses as she spoke. 
 
 But she was soon conscious that her words had been 
 hasty. She had been rude to Aunt Elsa in her own 
 house ! Hospitahty was another of the virtues innate, 
 and racial, with her. 
 
 " You have so many other things to do, your music, 
 your painting, your collections. I have only Everard," 
 she added apologetically. 
 
 Errington laughed quietly to himself at the mention of 
 Elsa Beethoven's " collections." He was standing on 
 the hearthrug, in his favourite position, his back to the 
 fire, quite content now with the way things were going. 
 But Elsa's Brummagem Empire furniture, her Itahan 
 pictures, her " old point " lace, the odds and ends of 
 rubbish she spoke of as her " collections," appealed 
 to his sense of humour. 
 
 " Mrs. Beethoven has no time for domestic joys," 
 he said. " She is absorbed in the acquisition of art 
 treasures," he interpolated, with that smile still in his 
 eyes, lurking in the corners of his mouth. " Tell me 
 what you have been buying lately. Have you picked 
 up any more Titians, or Tintorettos, at five pounds a 
 piece f 
 
 She did not reahse that he was laughing at her. 
 Her vanity had always been sarcasm-proof on the subject 
 
286 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 of taste. She began volubly to descant on various recent 
 purcbases, appealing to bim as if certain of bis sympatby 
 and approval, purposely exbibiting ber contempt for 
 Lilian's want of appreciation of tbe antique, wbile 
 endeavouring to prove ber old acquaintance witb 
 Errington, and tbeir mutual tastes. 
 
 To bim it was comedy, and, for a time, be repbed in tbe 
 same spirit; but tbe comedy soon palled. Wben be 
 bad led ber into admitting that Rubens was greater as 
 a draughtsman than as a colourist, and tbat a landscape 
 sbe bad picked up last year in Rome was probably bis 
 work although unsigned, tbe blue in the sky being 
 quite " distinctive," when she bad, under skilful handling, 
 admitted that Robert Adam was more "empirical" than 
 tbe first Empire, and the Ming period owed much to 
 Thomas Chippendale, her accent and ignorance bad 
 already got on his nerves. He urged her with seriousness 
 to devote ber sojourn in Rome to the acquisition of 
 Louis Seize bronzes, which he understood were now 
 being unearthed at Pompeii, and then be bad bad enough 
 of her. 
 
 " Come over here, Everard, come and talk to me. 
 It's not fair to monopobse your mother. Now ! look 
 at tbat," he said, as the boy ran smiUngly to bim. 
 "Stand upright and show your inches," be put bis bands 
 on tbe child's shoulders, turning bim round, with bis face 
 to tbe bght, to exhibit him to Elsa. " What do you think 
 of that for a specimen of fine Engbsb work ? " He laid 
 a gentle band on bis curls, " How do you think Sir 
 Joshua would have bked to paint it, or Romney ? 
 Would you hke to be made into a picture, Everard, 
 seated on your mother's lap, or kneeUng by ber ? " 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 287 
 
 He posed Mm quickly two or three different ways ; 
 discanting rapidly on composition, the old masters, 
 Gainsborough, the modern men. He rumpled Everard's 
 hair, and asked him if he wouldn't hke to be an artist. 
 
 This was all for LiUan, she knew it. Her heart 
 thrilled to him again. How he loved the boy, how 
 kind and good he was to her! 
 
 " I'd rather be a soldier," said Everard. The lawyer 
 released him with a laugh. 
 
 " There, I must be going," he said. Neither woman 
 raised an objection. 
 
 " I wish you hon voyage" he said, as he shook 
 hands with Elsa. " I hope your hohday will come up 
 to your expectations," he added gracefully. His sense 
 of humour was thoroughly to the fore over Elsa and her 
 intrigues. He added a few hght sentences. 
 
 But, when he said good-bye to Lihan, it appeared he 
 had no words, light or otherwise, for her. He bent 
 over her hand, and kissed it. Her embarrassment and 
 hurried withdrawal, the eyes that could not meet his, 
 her stained cheeks, were drawn attention to in that 
 parting glance he threw to Elsa from the door. He gave 
 her her freedom, it said ; but let her note that he took 
 his. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 There followed a lull in the sequence of events. Harry 
 had gone to San Remo, and Elsa had followed him, a 
 fact of which Berenice was in ignorance. The trial 
 of the Portland Place prisoners passed almost without 
 press comment. The sentences had been severe, but 
 nothing had transpired in the evidence imphcating 
 others than those who were in the dock. The week of 
 the trial Kenny had taken his mfe to the seaside. This 
 had been Errington's advice. They were at the Metro- 
 pole at Brighton, daily to be seen together on the parade, 
 or driving along the front. Lilian acquiesced in what- 
 ever was proposed. 
 
 She had not seen the lawyer since the afternoon when 
 Aunt Elsa's sudden entry, her surprise and wicked smile, 
 had made it seem as if there were something wrong in his 
 goodness to her. Her cheeks burned when she recalled 
 Elsa Beethoven's smile; but the rest she put away. 
 He was her friend, only her friend ! She went through 
 that time at Brighton quite well and bravely. There 
 was a curious exhilaration and gladness at the back of 
 her mind, she did not question its source. She 
 put away Aunt Elsa's wicked smile, and the quick 
 shame that followed it; there remained only the sense 
 of an infinitely widened horizon, hazy and dim, but 
 full of possibiUties. Kenny benefited again, it was 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 289 
 
 alwaj's Kenny who would benefit by Lilian's widening 
 horizon. 
 
 Errington Welch-Kennard, so wise and great and 
 good, had dowered her with his friendship. She was 
 glorified through it. She would never disappoint him, 
 never, never. He had said she and her race were fine, 
 brave, capable of sacrifice. Of course, she must show 
 him how right he was. 
 
 To Kenny, during that week at Brighton, she was all 
 and more than wife could be. She waited on him hand 
 and foot. She was valet, groom of the chambers, and 
 animated racing calendar. She calculated odds, added up 
 his betting book, and, what she hated most of all, she 
 wrote and asked her father for an advance of the income 
 he allowed them, when Kenny lost more than he should 
 have done at the Lewes Jumping Races. 
 
 There was no doubt Kenny liked her to be with him 
 he hated his own company. He liked her, too, to dress 
 well, and talk gaily to his friends. She pandered to this 
 desire of his. She was comparatively happy, or, at 
 least, happiness hovered somewhere on her hazy horizon. 
 It was Errington who had told her she must make 
 Kenny a good wife. In a way, she hked those strange 
 friends of Kenny's to make love to her, to tell her she 
 was handsome. This seemed to make her more worthy 
 of the friendship that lay in wait for her. 
 
 It was closely following on the trial that Balfour's 
 retirement, and Campbell-Bannerman's declaration for 
 Home_Rule, absorbed the public attention. Errington's 
 electoral campaign suddenly began to occupy him 
 seriously. He enjoyed the prospect of a fight, being always 
 in his element in opposition; and there was powerful 
 
 T 
 
290 THE SPHINX'S LAWYEE 
 
 opposition in the field against kim. Berenice made 
 herself his secretary and invaluable assistant. Her old 
 experiences came to her help. If he rehearsed a few 
 disjointed, brilhant sentences for a speech, over break- 
 fast or the dinner-table, in the midst of shaving or 
 in the entr'acte of a play, he fomid they had been taken 
 note of, and type-written, and were on his desk, to aid 
 his memory when he sat down to consider what points 
 he should make at Groome or Hurstbridge. Letters 
 asking for the assistance of their friends, for canvassers, 
 or carriages, were despatched almost before he had time 
 to decide whom he might approach. 
 
 He was in the thick of the fight, seeing people, elaborat- 
 ing his views, discussing and discovering his convictions 
 on tariff, preferential duties, Chinese labour, ahen 
 immigration, before he reahsed into what he was being 
 led; but he enjoyed it completely. He and Berenice 
 were both wonderfully happy. She, because she was 
 able to help him, because they were so much together, 
 and their interests were mutual. He, because he was 
 fighting, fully occupied, on the eve of success. 
 
 He remembered that afternoon at Eton Avenue at least 
 as well as LiHan. He was not very definite with himself, 
 but, in the background of his mind, there lurked the con- 
 sciousness that ^something pleasant awaited him at the 
 end of his work. 
 
 He had a note of encouragement from the Sphinx 
 on the eve of the poUing : 
 
 " Deae Eerington, — Go in and win. I am sure 
 you will win, you deserve it, and I shall be so glad for 
 you. Everything is going right just now. I long to 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 291 
 
 hear the result. Wire it to me, for I beUeve I am rather 
 pressed for time. — Ever yours, Sybil." 
 
 He did not read this very carefully when it came, or the 
 phrasing might have struck him. Hundreds of letters 
 were pouring in, people surrounding him, telegrams, 
 pressing appointments and interviews. The moment 
 was critical, and the upshot anything but certain. The 
 Liberal candidate was locally well known and popular, 
 an employer of labour, and of incredible energy. Fortu- 
 nately, he was an indifferent speaker, unready in repartee, 
 and without Errington's gift of quick comprehension 
 of the feeling of his audience. Errington could wax 
 suddenly enthusiastic over a point of which he had never 
 heard prior to some earnest individual getting up and 
 questioning him upon it. He could sway and carry a 
 meeting, substituting for knowledge, if he lacked it, 
 anecdote and apt quotation. He was serious and earnest 
 when it seemed necessary, but always he could make 
 his audience laugh, turning the laugh with, or against, a 
 heckler or an opponent with an epigram or allusion. 
 His election agent grew daily more confident, Berenice's 
 pride in him grew to fever heat. 
 
 But he had time to send off occasional bulletins. 
 
 " Everything going well ; keep your mind quite easy. 
 Your M.P. will visit you on the 7th," he wrote to the 
 Sphinx. 
 
 The election was to be on the 6th. 
 
 Errington and his wife had their few hours of enforced 
 inaction in the Committee room. The hurried breathless 
 messenger found them there, also the quick confirmatory 
 official report. Berenice restrained her inevitable out- 
 
•2'y2 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 hurst of emotion until liis success was acclaimed by the 
 
 cheering, swaying crowd, when, from the balcony, she 
 
 filled her eyes, her ears, her brain, with the \ociferous 
 
 scene of her husband's triumph. 
 
 fj^They drove to the hotel through the dark, hand in 
 
 hand. 
 
 " So you are satisfied at last. You are content your 
 husband is to represent the eccentric and various views 
 of the Hurstbridge electorate, you are proud to be an 
 M.P.'s mfe." 
 
 " I am proud to be your wife," she answered, below 
 her breath. And he drew her close to him and laughed 
 at her, but was, perhaps, rather proud of himself, and 
 felt success bubbling through his veins Hke wine, ex- 
 hilarating, making him young. 
 
 They returned to town the following morning, and 
 found themselves overwhelmed again with congratula- 
 tions, correspondence, a whole cohort of pressing 
 duties. 
 
 It was in the midst of these Berenice received a letter 
 from her brother, sent over by hand from the Albany. 
 She did not know he had returned. 
 
 " May I come to you ? I want to speak to you and 
 your husband together. Ask him if he will see me; 
 there is something I must tell him." 
 
 She handed the note to Errington ; he tossed it back 
 to her, laughing at her anxious face. 
 
 " Of course he can come. I haven't much time, but 
 I'll give him ten minutes, and teU him the hatchet is 
 buried. He wants to congratulate me personally, 
 probably to promise us the reversion of his milhons 
 when I get into the Cabinet, when they give me that 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 293 
 
 peerage which already you see looming at the end of my 
 parUamentary career." 
 
 For, they had talked amazing triumphs in the glow 
 of the victory ; Berenice had seen an unending proces- 
 sion of honours to attend her husband's gift of eloquence. 
 If he were so much wiser than she, and knew his hmita- 
 tions better, at least, he liked to hsten to her prophecies. 
 
 But Harry's appearance, the very first sight of his 
 haggard face and miserable eyes, when he was ushered 
 into the hbrary, told the man of the world that it was 
 not on congratulatory errand that he was bent. 
 
 He seemed to have forgotten the last time he and 
 Errington met. He took the hand held out to him. 
 
 " It was very good of you to let me come." 
 
 " Not at all." 
 
 Errington pushed a chair towards him, and he sank 
 into it. Berenice went softly behind it, she could not 
 face him. For, the change these few weeks had made 
 in Harry Annesley was not to be ignored nor overlooked. 
 The once prominent eyes were sunk and glassy, there 
 were hollows beneath his ears, and his neck had fallen 
 away. But the dejection and spiritlessness of his atti- 
 tude were more terrible to see. He looked like a man 
 past hope. 
 
 " Poor devil," Errington thought, " booked for 
 kingdom come, and can't face it." 
 
 But here the man of the world judged wrongly. 
 Harry had no fear of death ; that, already the grey 
 shadow of it was as an impalpable presence about 
 him, he had no knowledge. 
 
 The exertion of coining upstairs, of facing them, was 
 as much as he was capable of at the moment. Berenice 
 
294 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 laid a gentle hand on his forehead, then her cheek against 
 it. Her tears were overflowing, but she drew back again 
 behind his chair, that he should not see them. He 
 rested in the moment's silence. 
 
 " I am all right," he said. 
 
 " Of course," Errington answered him. Berenice 
 was incapable of speech. " These stairs are devilish 
 steep. Don't try to talk till you've got your breath 
 back. I suppose you had a bad crossing, and that's 
 enough to knock anybody up." He rang the bell. 
 " Bring Mr. Annesley half a glass of milk, with a wine 
 glass full of old brandy in it, and hurry up," he told the 
 man. " That's what you want. It's a fine pick-me- 
 up, the finest in the world." He was talking against 
 time, talking to give Berenice a chance of puUing herself 
 together. 
 
 " I'm in awful trouble," Harry said at length. " I 
 don't know what you'U say to me when you hear." He 
 drank the milk thirstily. Even in the midst of his 
 sympathy, Errington wished he had not gulped it down 
 quite so noisily. 
 
 " Kennard — you never liked me." 
 
 " Oh ! nonsense." 
 
 " And you were quite right. I'm a bad fellow. I 
 shall bring nothing but disgrace upon you." 
 
 " Disgrace ! Eubbish ! You're ill, that's what's the 
 matter, painting devils." 
 
 " No, no. It's true. You are a lawyer." 
 
 Errington whistled softly under his breath, beginning 
 to think, and he always thought quickly. 
 
 " You know. . . ." 
 
 But how far he was going to reveal his trouble re- 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 295 
 
 mained a mystery. James came in and announced that 
 there was a lady below who wanted to see Mr. Annesley 
 at once, most particularly. Harry Aimesley started 
 from his chair, beads of perspiration on his forehead, 
 misery in his eyes, the brandy had given him strength. 
 
 " Berenice, you will see her, you will stand by her ? " 
 
 " Who, dear, who ? " she asked, bewildered. " Yes, 
 yes, of course, anything," she answered quickly, to soothe 
 him. 
 
 " We'll see you through, whatever it is," said Erring- 
 ton, soothingly too, but he began to have a shrewd 
 suspicion. Elsa Beethoven did not wait for permis- 
 sion to enter, or even to be announced. She rushed 
 into the room dramatically, she flung herself at Harry's 
 feet, she was tearful, emotional, excitable, voluble. 
 
 " You vill help me — you vill save me — Sam knows 
 everything — he turned me out of ze house — he says I 
 must not see my children. You promised if harm 
 came of it, if ve vas discovered, you vould help me." 
 The tears Streamed down her face. 
 
 Brrington was amazed, amused, the drama of it 
 appealed to him for the moment. Unfortimately, he 
 was called from the room at this most interesting 
 moment, a deputation, somewhat mistimed, had to be 
 met, and their congratulations submitted to. 
 
 " I'U see you presently ; you can rely on me ; it's all 
 right," he managed to say to Harry. " Get rid of her; 
 it will be all right," he said to Berenice, who went to 
 the door with him. Then Elsa turned all her armoury 
 and excitement to Berenice. Her eyes streamed with 
 tears, and her volubihty was almost incoherent. 
 
 " I love him so — your brozer, nothing in the world 
 
296 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 counted ven he was ill, and alone. I vent to him, of 
 course I vent to him, I love him. I said, ' I stop viz 
 you until you are better. If my husband get to know, 
 vy zen — ' " She grew more and more unrestrained, 
 dramatic and gesticulatory. " ' I do not care, I do 
 not care vot 'appens'. And Harry says, ' I'll stick to 
 you, votever 'appens, I stick to you.' And now 
 he knows, Harry, he knows. Someone wrote him a 
 letter. He ask me, ' Is zis true, is vot zere is in zis 
 letter true ? ' I said, ' It is true ; and I love him.' 
 Zen he take me by ze wrist," she showed Harry her 
 bruised wrists, " he call me a foul name, a shockin' name, 
 and say, ' Go — go — go out of my house.' I vent to you, 
 you vere not in your rooms, zen I came on here, you 
 von't send me avay, you von't send me b^ick to 
 him." 
 
 " Get up, get up, Blsa ! " She was kneehng before him. 
 " Get up." He turned despairingly to Berenice. 
 " She came to me in Italy. What am I to do ? " 
 Berenice's revolt, her horror at the situation, changed 
 to pity at the appeal in his voice. 
 
 " Tell her I have loved you for years," cried Elsa, 
 still on her knees. 
 
 " Poor Harry ! " the words escaped Berenice, " Poor 
 Harry ! " His eyes were those of a hare caught in a trap, 
 and her heart went out to him. " Shall we talk alone a 
 httle, Mrs. Beethoven and 1 1 Will you go away, and 
 leave us? " 
 
 ' That will be better," he said hastily. " It is 
 hopeless to struggle," that was what his eyes said. 
 ' ' You will talk to each other. I'll go down to Errington." 
 " Yes, dear. Go, dear." 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 297 
 
 Perhaps she could do something, there must be 
 something she could do ! 
 
 " You vill help us, you vill be our friend," Elsa 
 exclaimed excitedly, as the door closed behind Harry, 
 She misunderstood the other. " Ah ! it has been terrible, 
 zo terrible for me. You do not know vot I sufier, 
 vot I go through mit zat Sam. And for Harry, I 
 do not mind. Mein children, my home, my name, it 
 is nossing." 
 
 She went on talking wildly, picturing herself disgraced, 
 turned out of her house, all through her love of Harry. 
 She implored Berenice to be a friend to her. Rapidly 
 she ran through her future. Sam would obtain a divorce, 
 Errington would help that there should be no delay, then 
 she would be free. 
 
 At last, struck by Berenice's silence, by her cold 
 aversion, the flow of her words lessened, hesitated, 
 stopped. 
 
 " You, you are sorry for me ? " she said. 
 
 " I think you are — horrible ! " answered Berenice, 
 completely candid. 
 
 Elsa gasped for breath, it was as a blow across her 
 face. 
 
 " You sink, you sink . . . ? " she gasped. 
 
 " That you are disgusting, horrible, shameless." 
 
 She made a last effort at concihation. 
 
 " But I love him, I love him so." She subsided into 
 a seat, she took out her handkerchief. But, through all 
 her tears and sobs she could hear quite well, and soon 
 her sobs ceased, and her anger began to rise. 
 
 " Your love, if it be true that you love him, is shameful. 
 Why do you tell me of it ? It makes me feel sick. You 
 
298 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 have a husband. Whatever he may be, he loves you, 
 trusts you, has forgiven you unutterable things. Erring- 
 ton has told me so. You have children too ! How 
 could you contemplate leaving them for ever ? If Mr. 
 Beethoven did indeed apply for this divorce, of which 
 you speak so easily, how about them ? You are their 
 mother. Oh ! " 
 
 Berenice could not say all she felt, her horror and loath- 
 ing of the woman seized her by the throat and choked 
 her, when she remembered that children had been given to 
 her, little loving children. And they counted for nothing 
 with this creature ! She would dower them with shame, 
 and make the name of " Mother " synonymous with it. 
 Berenice tried to say all this, and the other heard her, 
 sullen and resentful. 
 
 " Go home," she cried, " Go home to your husband, 
 go down on your knees to him. Beg him, pray him, 
 to forgive you, for the sake of the love he once bore 
 you, for the sake of his children and yours. Abase 
 yourself before him, pray to him." 
 
 " That's right, that's the programme." Errington 
 had returned. His eyes were full of laughter. " Sam 
 will forgive you, I'll guarantee it." 
 
 " I am not going back to Sam. I do not vant Sam's 
 forgiveness," she said, and with a last attempt at drama 
 she exclaimed, " It is for ever, I have left him for ever 
 Vere is Harry ? I am going to my Harry." 
 
 " 'What are you plajing at 1 " Errington asked her 
 quietly. " Out with it, Elsa. Let us hear your game." 
 
 At the alteration in his tone, the famiharity and con- 
 fidence, Elsa looked up. Now the situation was changed. 
 At a sign from him Berenice had left the room, and they 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 299 
 
 were together and alone. She dropped all her weapons, 
 she knew of old how httle use they were with him. She 
 said, quite defiantly : 
 
 " Sam vill divorce me. And I vill marry Harry, 
 so soon it is finished. You vill not mind. I am not 
 a creedy voman. His sister, she shall have vot you 
 like. And my settlements— you vill see to zat. Ve 
 vill not quarrel over zat, you and I. I have said nos- 
 sing, not vun little vord, about you and Lihan. It 
 viU be easy, easier for you, zat she is my niece makes 
 it explained. I vill not, vot you call, give you avay." 
 
 She was eager in her horrible candour and proposition. 
 She thought she knew him so well that her suggestion 
 that she did not want all Harry's money, but only a 
 proportion of it, her suggestion that his pursuit of, or 
 liaison with, Lihan du Gore, would be made easy, or 
 furthered by this marriage which she contemplated, would 
 appeal to his sense of fairness. She thought she was 
 ofiering him the very quid pro quo for his services 
 that would best secure them. She did not reckon with 
 the influence a woman of Berenice's character has upon 
 a man in daily communion with it. But, in truth, at 
 no time had Errington Welch-Kennard been a man to 
 barter with, to threaten, or to move by consideration 
 of personal interest. He laughed at the end of Elsa's 
 speech, dehberately looked her in the face, and laughed 
 at her. 
 
 " Go home," he said. It was the same observation 
 his wife had made, although she had made it with a differ- 
 ence. " Go home, and don't make a fool of yourself." 
 He added, quite cruelly, because he had no fear at all of 
 her, and he wanted to finish the matter ofi quickly. 
 
300 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " You are much too old to go on playing at tliis sort 
 of game. You've got a better chance tlian any other 
 woman who has led your hfe. Sam is not much to look 
 at, but the httle brute really cares about you, and puts 
 up with you. Why don't you turn over a new leaf, and 
 make him a decent wife ? He has had nearly twenty 
 years of this kind of thing. Why, good God ! your 
 daughters must be growing up, your sons out in the 
 world. Do you want to lack them all down, force upon 
 them what you are ? " 
 
 In her rage she could not answer him, could not 
 controvert his accusations, fly at his throat, or even tell 
 him what she thought of him. 
 
 " Vot about you, vot about you and Lihan?" she 
 managed to get out, viciously. " If I tell, if I tell your 
 saint wife " 
 
 " She wouldn't listen to you. She wouldn't believe 
 a word you say. I have told her what a liar you are. 
 Go home, I tell you. You are playing a stupid game. 
 Annesley has just broken a blood vessel, that is why 
 I sent his sister to him ; he'll be a dead man in six months, 
 and where will you be then ? Get hold of Sam, get 
 reconciled with him, don't make a fool of yourself ! " 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 Elsa was not to be got rid of so easily. She had 
 set her heart on replacing Sam Beethoven by Harry 
 Annesley; and she was a woman of resource, lacking 
 personal dignity, totally without pride. 
 
 Berenice's fine qualities came out in these trying days. 
 Harry was seriously ill, and his non-conformist con- 
 science tortured him vfith doubts and misgivings. 
 The Kennards would not let him return to the Albany, 
 to be at the mercy of any move that Elsa might make. 
 They kept him with them at Prince's Gate. This meant 
 that they were bombarded with letters and telegrams. 
 The woman began by sending him flowers and presents, 
 by pouring out avowals of love for him, and reitera- 
 ting the sacrifices she had made for him, and their 
 consequences. There came eight-page letters, three- 
 volume telegrams, and even post-cards. She walked 
 up and down that enclosed terrace at Prince's Gate for 
 hours, in the expectation of meeting him. 
 
 And he, in the throes of his mortal sickness, realising 
 no danger but the danger he was in from her, cowered 
 in his warm sitting-room, or on the couch in his bedroom, 
 assuring his beloved sister that his cough was nothing, 
 his illness was nothing, all that counted was his misery 
 at the sin he had committed, his awful mental agony 
 over what he should do to repair it. There were times 
 
302 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 when, had it not been for Errington's strong common 
 sense, Berenice, in her pity, would have been prepared 
 to yield a little in the position she had taken up. 
 
 " Errie, darling," she said once to her husband, " he 
 makes me doubt if I am so right in keeping them apart. 
 Although he hates and fears her so terribly and bitterly, 
 he did promise to stand by her if it came out that they 
 had been together. And she writes him that although 
 she is hving in her husband's house, his persecution 
 of her is awful. She says she cannot bear her hfe, that 
 if, in three days, Harry wiU neither write nor see her, she 
 will kin herself." 
 
 " No such luck, dear. Don't you beheve it," he 
 answered, continuing to tie his necktie quite dehber- 
 ately, and to give his hair a final brush back. He 
 had come out of his dressing-room at her call, and was 
 finishing his toilette before her looking-glass. " She 
 will hve, Hve to be a curse to us, and to all her family. 
 Don't you fear about Elsa Beethoven committing 
 suicide. Murder is more in her hne. Her persecution 
 is shortening that poor fellow's hfe. I wish, with you, 
 that I could put a stop to it. But not in the way you 
 suggest. That would be a weakness which must end dis- 
 astrously." 
 
 " But if her husband takes steps for a divorce ? " 
 " He won't. He'll bluster and weep ! But he won't 
 part from her if he can help it. And she won't let him, 
 if there is no hope from Annesley." 
 
 " But she says he has started proceedings." 
 " She was always a har," he rephed coolly, putting 
 on his watch and seals. 
 
 " Oh ! Errington, isn't it all dreadful ! " 
 
 "Well! it is rather impleasant; but we can't have 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 303 
 
 all beer and skittles in this world, sweetheart. I 
 won't have you breaking your heart over it." He did 
 not wait to put his coat on; he went over to her 
 and kissed her. Berenice was still in bed. She had 
 sat up with Harry until three o'clock, and Errington 
 had insisted on her resting for a few hours. She loved 
 to he and watch him dressing. 
 
 " She is a real wrong'un, I've known her for years. I 
 could give Harry a synopsis of her career, if you think 
 that would do him any good." 
 
 "Do you mean he is not — not the only man that she 
 has ever — ever been bad with ? " A lovely flush came 
 to her cheeks. She even turned her face away from her 
 husband, towards the wall, when she put that question 
 to him. She was ignorant of evil, and hated the know- 
 ledge of it that was being thrust upon her. But Harry 
 was so ill, and his agony of mind was so desperate to 
 watch, she would ask anything that might help him. 
 
 " I do mean that. I mean that she had had many 
 lovers ; I have the best possible reason for knowing it," 
 he added drily. "Don't blush, don't hide your face. 
 Didn't you know you were not marrying a saint ? " 
 
 It was not hkely, after that, that Berenice's feelings 
 towards Blsa were any kinder. She asked Errington 
 to have a talk with Harry, to try to ease him. 
 Errington gave up an hour of his very busy day to this 
 purpose ; missing his breakfast for it, in fact. 
 
 " My dear fellow," he said, "my wife tells me you are 
 worrying yourself to death because you think you have 
 some duty towards this woman, some unfulfilled duty." 
 
 Harry turned his tortured eyes towards his brother- 
 in-law. The room was close, and the atmosphere 
 fevered. Harry, with those sunken eyes, and prominent 
 
o04 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 cheek bones, a red spot on each of them, breathed 
 heavily and with difficulty. His wasted hands were dry 
 and hot. But it was his mind, only his mind, that could 
 not rest. He said : 
 
 " I want to do right. I did promise to stand by her 
 if it came out that she had been with me in Italy." 
 
 " But it didn't come out ! She confessed ; that makes 
 all the difference. As for the anonymous letter that she 
 pretends drove her to this confession, she wrote it her- 
 self. You may bet your bottom dollar on that ; she 
 was always tricky.' 
 
 " And do you really think I have no duty to her, no 
 responsibility.^ I can't sleep for doubting. Tell me 
 what you think." 
 
 " I really think that the only duty a man has to a 
 woman of Hght character is a pecuniary one. Now, 
 will you empower me to settle with her on those hnes ? " 
 
 " But is she light ? Are you sure ? Ten years ago, 
 she had the most innocent, beautiful nature. You know 
 she was — she was with me a few days at Galatz. It was 
 I who first led her astray. Oh ! God ! The hell I 
 Uve in through it. Night and day I can't get it out of 
 my mind. I break into cold sweats when I think of it, 
 and it catches my breath. I suffer so — - — " 
 
 One could see that he did not exaggerate his suffer- 
 ings. He could not disentangle his physical from his 
 moral agonies. 
 
 " Suppose it is true that she has grown into what 
 she is, through me, through that week ! Sam fetched 
 her back then. She went for the sake of her children, I 
 could not bring myself to persude her to stay. She has had 
 years of persecution at his hands, through me, through 
 that week. And she has loved me all through " 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 305 
 
 " She went with Sam because she had had enough of 
 you, and found Galatz deadly dull." He answered, 
 purposely brutal. 
 
 " Be a man, Annesley, pull yourself together. She 
 told me the incident, herself, years ago, but I did 
 not connect it with you. She said the place was in- 
 sufferable. She cared no more for you then than she 
 does now. It's variety she wants, sensation, excite- 
 ment, anything but dull respectabihty. I tell you, you 
 have no responsibility in the matter. The woman was 
 bad, I verily beheve, from the time she was ten years 
 old. It's all hes that she has told you. As for fidelity 
 to you, or to any one for that matter, it's an impossibility 
 to her. Gratitude and fidehty are two words she has 
 never learnt. I got up her history once, she gave me 
 a lot of trouble, and I sifted it through. Don't you 
 know where, and when, Sam Beethoven met her ? She 
 got into trouble when she was seventeen, and her 
 people, Viennese bourgeois, very respectable and sedate, 
 turned her out of doors. They settled a sum of money 
 upon her, ' her portion,' they called it, but they wouldn't 
 have anything to do with her. She got round Sam 
 with a pitiful story of early widowhood. He married 
 her when her baby was six weeks old, and brought them 
 both over to England. She hadn't been with him a 
 year before there was a young fellow Uving in the house 
 with them under the pretence of altering the dining- 
 room, decorating it in Viennese fashion ! They scanda- 
 lised Hampstead for months before Sam understood what 
 was going on, and realised that he was the laughing- 
 stock of the place. Of course, there was a row, but he 
 forgave her, he isn't a man of fine feehng, and he 
 literally can't live without her, he thinks her wonderful. 
 
 u 
 
306 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 He has mad fits of jealousy, when, I believe, he does 
 knock her about and lock her up in her room, and make 
 the most extraordinary scenes. But it always ends by 
 his imploring her to forgive his unkindness, to care for 
 him again. Her next notorious adventure was with a 
 music-master. She took daily piano lessons, she has as 
 much soul as a cow, rather less, I think ! But she 
 raved of Wagner, and haunted her musician's rooms, 
 until he bolted to Switzerland to get rid of her." 
 
 " Oh, don't, don't," cried Harry faintly. For, after all, 
 once, not such a long time ago, she had represented his 
 ideal of womanhood. He turned his face away, and 
 Errington waited. 
 
 "Well ! is it enough ? Have I told you enough to 
 persuade you that you must absolutely not give her any 
 encouragement. She wants to force Sam into taking 
 proceedings." 
 
 It was difficult for them to secure peace for Harry. 
 They estabUshed two nurses in his sick-room, and kept 
 back all letters and telegrams. Then Elsa made 
 Errington her objective. He could hardly move out of 
 the house without being waylaid. Her point was, that 
 she must see Harry, that it was her right to see Harry ; 
 she accused Errington of the meanest motives in wishing 
 to keep them apart. She picketed the house, threatening 
 to create a scandal, actually creating a scandal in the 
 kitchen and servant's hall. It is only justice to Elsa 
 to say that she did not beUeve Harry was really ill, she 
 thought it was a manoeuvre to prevent her re-estabUsh- 
 ing, or keeping, her influence over him. 
 t Parliament had re-assembled, Errington had taken 
 his seat, his friends were already anticipating his maiden 
 speech. Social engagements crowded upon him. Elsa 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 307 
 
 Beetioven was a miisance, but she seemed an unim- 
 portant one. Usually, when she tried to stop him on 
 his going out or on his coming in, he merely, "ppshd" 
 her out of the way as if she had been an intrusive cat. 
 He had no use for her, and he had also no fear of her. 
 Harry was well looked after just now, he knew ; and 
 that was the important point. 
 
 One day she forced her way into his office ; for Elsa 
 was past reason now. She had pictured herself free from 
 that hateful Sam Beethoven, married after a decent 
 interval to Harry Annesley, accepted by the Welch- 
 Kennard's. She could not, and would not, abandon 
 her hope. Her cleverness was only surface-cleverness ; 
 she thought she had only to persist to win. But, as time 
 went on and her cause made no progress, she had begun 
 to doubt. She had never counted on Errington defying, 
 Berenice ignoring, Harry being kept from, her. His 
 weakness she could correctly gauge, but she could 
 not work on it if she were prevented seeing him. Baulked 
 in all her endeavours, like an animal at bay, wild-eyed 
 and maddened, she could think now only of revenge; 
 And Errington, strong in his position, and having the 
 pride of his strength, was so contemptuous and cool, so 
 absolutely indifierent to her threats and fury, that he 
 acted upon her as the proverbial red rag. 
 
 " My good woman," he told her, " you are making a 
 perfect ass of yourself, as well as a nuisance. My wife 
 puts your letters into the fire without reading them, 
 and those you send to Annesley are left unopened. I 
 hear Sam is going about the Stock Exchange and the 
 Piccadilly Club, tearing his hair and talking of his 
 grievances, which isn't very dignified, and also leads 
 nowhere." 
 
308 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 "Youvill see, vot you'vill see. You lie and intrigue, 
 and get round your vife. But I have not yet told 
 Manny Henry vat you do mit Lilian, mit my niece. 
 You vill not get round Manny Henry, he vill kill you 
 ven he knows. I vill tell him, and Kenny. I vill 
 tell Kenny vy you sent him avay. Oh ! I know vy 
 you sent him out of ze country, and pretend he is in 
 danger. I vill tell vot I see, vot I sink." 
 
 " Oh ! go and teU the marines, tell anybody any- 
 thing. Only get out of my office, and keep away from 
 Prince's Gate, or I shall give you into custody. Mind, 
 that is not an idle threat ; I've had about enough of 
 this." 
 
 He did not give her any grace or quarter. Although 
 she stood and vituperated him, her accent growing with 
 her excitement, hysteria taking the place of reason, he 
 rang the bell and ordered that she be removed, and told 
 the clerk quite coolly, before her face, that, if she did not 
 go quietly, they were to send for a policeman. What- 
 ever else may be said of him, at least he was no coward. 
 It was only at the end of a violent scene, after she had 
 gone, escorted by three amused clerks, but without the 
 intervention of the threatened pohceman, that he began 
 to consider seriously the possibility of her annoying LiUan. 
 The past weeks had been so crowded that he had not 
 found time to go up to Eton Avenue. He had not 
 forgotten Lihan, he had sent flowers, toys for the boy, 
 little notes, only he had not been able to get there. 
 
 One of these httle notes, by the way, had led to a 
 scene between Lilian and her husband. This was it : 
 
 " Dear Child. — Forgive me not coming to you for 
 the next day or two. It is not that you are not in my 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 309 
 
 thoughts, indeed I have not forgotten you. Tell 
 Everard he shall have a complete battalion of guards- 
 men to play with as soon as I am free. My regards to 
 Kenny. Yours, E. W.-K." 
 
 The orchids that accompanied it were already in 
 water. 
 
 Kenny surprised her reading this unremarkable epistle 
 for quite the tenth time. 
 
 " What have you got there, a letter from Kennard? 
 What does he say ? 
 
 Then her quick flush, and the tightening of her 
 hold on the letter, struck him. " Anything in it ? " 
 he asked, and the colour retreated a Uttle from his face, 
 " about me ? " The trial was over, but a remnant of 
 anxiety lingered. 
 
 " No, there is nothing about you," she said shortly. 
 She was no mistress of intrigue; she did not want 
 Kenny to see her letter, but could not have explained 
 why. She was always trying to be a good wife to him, 
 but always he defeated her intentions. 
 
 " I don't beheve it. Let me see it." He held out 
 his hand for the letter. 
 
 " I won't let you see it. Leave me alone." Her 
 temper again got the better of her prudence. The 
 struggle between them was very short. He was slow, 
 imready, no match for her young agility. The letter 
 was in the fire, it caught quickly, and had shrivelled 
 to black ash, before he had recovered from his surprise 
 at being set at defiance by her. His own temper was 
 even, quite different from hers. 
 
 " Oh ! so that's it, is it ? " he said recovering himself, 
 regaining his normal attitude of coolness. He laughed. 
 
310 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " He has got you too ; I never knew sucli a fellow. You 
 are all alike, you women. It's a lucky tiling I don't 
 mind. If I'd known it was a love-letter, I skouldn't 
 have asked to see it; but I thought there was some- 
 thing in it about the case." 
 
 " It wasn't a love-letter." The flame in her cheeks 
 was scarlet, indignation made havoc with her resolu- 
 tions, her voice was raised : 
 
 " I don't have love-letters, you know I don't. I'm a 
 married woman. Married women don't have love- 
 letters, it's disgraceful to accuse me " 
 
 " I wish you would not raise your voice. I've told 
 you a dozen times what bad form it is to scream when 
 you lose your temper, hke a hippopotamus when it takes 
 the air, or an Irish M.P." 
 
 " I don't care what you've told me ; I don't care what 
 you say. You are a beast. You ought to beg my pardon." 
 
 "Or to use bad language 1 " 
 
 As she lost her temper he grew even cooler. He could 
 plant each shaft deliberately, infuriating her whilst he 
 laughed that soft flabby laugh of his. He subsided 
 luxuriously into his easy-chair, whilst she still raged 
 in front of him. 
 
 " How dare you say I have love-letters? You know 
 it's a Ue. I'm not like the women you know." 
 
 " Quite true. I always avoid the lower orders." 
 
 " And Mr. Kennard wouldn't write them." 
 
 He laughed outright at that. 
 
 " Oh ! that's a good idea. Kennard ! Why Kennard's 
 a notorious lady killer. You ought to feel very proud." 
 
 " You — you beast ! " 
 
 " Oh ! you tire me ; run away and play. Here, 
 though, stay. Get me a whisky fiist, and," for she had 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 311 
 
 turned to go, she could face neither his jeers nor his 
 laughter in her present mood, " don't think I am 
 annoyed. I'm really very flattered, he has always had 
 taste, that fellow." But she was out of the room. 
 
 She had been extraordinarily proud that the lawyer had 
 telegraphed the residt of his election to her. Of course, 
 she knew it before the wire arrived, but still it was to 
 her he had sent it. 
 
 Now she was bitterly ashamed of her loss of temper 
 with Kenny over the note she had burnt. She tried 
 to make it up with him. It was always difficult 
 to make things up with Kenny, for his was not a 
 generous nature. But there was no doubt that, in his 
 own way, he was beginning to appreciate Lihan. If it 
 were true that Kennard was attracted by her, wrote her 
 love-letters, well, that was a feather in his, Kenny's, 
 cap. So he regarded it. There are men with this point of 
 view. When Kenny chaffed his wife about the lawyer's 
 attentions, it was a sign of good humour on his part. 
 He rallied her about the toys that Everard received, and 
 the other notes that came, and the flowers. He never 
 again asked for them to be shown to him. 
 
 Brrington Welch-Kenjiard thrust all engagements on 
 one side, after the stormy interview with Elsa Beethoven, 
 and went to Eton Avenue. At least, the girl must be 
 prepared for eventualities ; she must not, without warn- 
 ing, be exposed to her Aunt Elsa's violence of hatred 
 and unreason. 
 
 A trivial, an almost absurd, contre-temps, prevented 
 that warning being given. 
 
 This apparently trivial thing that kept Errington from 
 warning LiUan of possible trouble from Elsa Beethoven 
 was, primarily, that Httle Everard had signahsed the 
 
312 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 return from Brighton by falling ill with influenza. It 
 was very annoying, Kenny had not much sympathy 
 with illness, but a very genuine nervous dread of any- 
 thing happening to himself. Lilian pandered to that, 
 too, took his temperature morning and evening, fed him 
 with supplementary meals of beef -tea, and egg beaten up 
 with milk and brandy, and followed him into the hall, 
 when he was going out, with great coat and mufiler. It 
 was strange how her sense of duty toward him grew 
 with her service to him. It seemed hke a dream, an 
 impossible nightmare, that, for the boy's sake, for any 
 preposterous reason, she had ever contemplated deserting 
 her post. 
 
 The first spring meeting at Hurst Park synchronised 
 with this episode. 
 
 " I suppose you're not going to pose that you can't 
 come to the meeting because the boy's had a cold ? " 
 Kenny began, the morning of the race. 
 
 Lilian hesitated ; she had been hesitating since 
 yesterday. It was true there was no longer any anxiety 
 about the boy. The illness had left him, his temperature 
 was subnormal, there were no comphcations, but he 
 was very fractious and trying, and nurse was not the 
 most patient, nor the most tactful, of attendants. Lilian 
 hated the prospect of being six or eight hours from the 
 sick-room. Everard might insist on getting up, he 
 might easily contract a fresh chill, he might refuse to eat, 
 or demand more food than was good for him ; and he 
 would be so dull without her to play dominoes with him, 
 or help to put up his fortress, or read him to sleep ! 
 But she was not sure she ought to let Kenny go without 
 her. He always betted more recklessly, less intelligently, 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 313 
 
 wlien slie was not with him. She was torn between 
 her two duties. 
 
 She had a headache herself this morning. That did 
 not prevent her discussing the merits of the various 
 horses with Kenny over breakfast. Rufi's guide was 
 exhaustively ransacked for the performances of one 
 " Jetley." 
 
 "You might work the thing out for me on paper," 
 he said, and, whilst he was reading the Sforting Life, 
 she made him a clever differential chart, showing how 
 Jetley had compared at various times with the other 
 animals he would have to meet, his weights, and record. 
 Both her logic and her mathematics came in useful. 
 All her talents and acquirements were now made sub- 
 ordinate to Kenny's pursuits. 
 
 Yet she was glad to get rid of him this morning. That 
 he slammed both the door of the dining-room and the 
 street door, although she had a headache, and had told 
 him so, did not detract from her gratitude that he had 
 finally agreed to go by himself. 
 
 She sat with Everard all that morning. He was 
 irritable and fractious, nurse out of temper, and every- 
 thing difficult and trying. 
 
 By the afternoon, she gave up fighting her headache and 
 general depression, and lay down on the drawing-room 
 sofa, aching all over, feehng fairly sure that she was in 
 for the same epidemic that had attacked her boy. 
 
 Finding her like this, depressed and inchned to be 
 tearful, how could Errington Welch-Kennard, when he 
 drove up that afternoon, worry her further with talk of 
 Elsa, or the possibihties her state of mind portended ? 
 Instead, he rang for tea, and fed her with it, petted, and 
 
314 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 cheered her, sitting quite a long time in the gloaming with 
 her hand in his, talking of friendship. She was passion- 
 ately grateful for his gentleness, the affection he showed 
 her. He had no fear of illness or infection. He even 
 went upstairs to see the boy, in order that she should not 
 be disturbed or worried by imagining him worse than 
 he was. He brought down a glowing account of restored 
 good temper, and a fine game of soldiers that was going 
 on, nurse acting " sentry go " with the greatest amia- 
 bility, and the bed strewn with tin corpses. 
 
 He stayed with her over two hours. They were alone 
 in the drawing-room all that time, except for the few 
 minutes he had run up to the nursery. The hghts were 
 not turned up, because Lihan's head stiU ached, and 
 the darkness was his prescription. He talked a good 
 deal of sentiment, understood quite well that she was 
 enwrapped in false security, mistaking, misapprehending, 
 ignorant of the game he was teaching her. He liked 
 to see her colour rise and fall — even in the firelight 
 he could see that ; and her breath came quickly, at a 
 quotation pimctuated with a sigh, or the sigh alone. She 
 always pictured him with a wife who did not understand 
 him, ill-mated. Because he never mentioned his wife 
 to her, this was what she imagined. 
 
 He liked her ignorant defence, or shyness, when he 
 adjusted a cushion for her head, Hngering over the 
 adjustment, when he drew her dress down over her feet, 
 and said, " what slender ankles ! " as he stooped and 
 patted them. He would not let her get up at all. He 
 sent for a rug, and tucked it round her. The tucking 
 that rug round her was a masterpiece of ingenious caress. 
 Always it was slipping away, or needed readjustment. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 315 
 
 All tkrough that afternoon the process went on. He 
 assured her that she had not the influenza at all, she 
 was only low, out of sorts, wanting care. He gave her a 
 foretaste of what his care might mean. Kenny was so 
 careless, so wrapped in self, and the blood in her veins was 
 warm. She was so young too. How could she resist his 
 growing intimacy ? She was shy, modest, pure, but her 
 spirit leaped to him, and presently she was watching him, 
 dumbly eager for his touch, Hke a dog for a bone. 
 
 The afternoon drifted into evening. All her pains and 
 aches had gone, except the throbbing in her temples. And 
 that made her incapable of reasoning ; she needed love 
 and care. 
 
 " Have I done you good 1 " he asked " No, don't get 
 up. I'm going to make you quite comfortable before I 
 leave. But I want to know if I have done you any good, 
 if I, my friendship, make you happier." 
 
 He had risen to go, but he bent over her as he questioned 
 her. The eyes she raised to him in her dumb gratitude 
 were glorious, her small pouting scarlet hps were 
 hot. He told her so, when he bent to touch them with 
 his. 
 
 She had had no defence against that sensuous petting, 
 except the instinctive defence of her shyness. It was the 
 moment before he left that he stooped to kiss her hps, 
 they were hot, responsive, too. It was then, as if by an 
 uncontrollable impulse, he had flung himself lightly upon 
 her,' feehng her fevered body shrink, then yield 
 exquisitely, to the wj,rmth of his ardent arms. 
 
 " Dear, dear child," he murmirred. " Don't you 
 know I care for you ? " His arms, his hps, the gleam in 
 his half shut eyes, assured her of it. 
 
316 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 And theii lie was gone. 
 
 She was alone now, but somewhere in her beating 
 heart, and hammering pulses, she knew, she knew, through 
 all the throbbing pain in her head, the exquisite fear, 
 that it was to his forbearance, and not her resistance, 
 she owed it, that it was only fear. 
 
 She had said it was " easy to be good ; " but it wasn't 
 easy, and she did not want to be good. Yes, she did, she 
 did. She fell into wild weeping and reaction, before 
 another hour had passed, hating him and herself. 
 
 He guessed rightly enough how it would be with her. 
 In a measure, the same reaction came to him. He 
 called himself names all the way home, and to 
 Berenice, that evening, he was kindness itself. The 
 film of her delicate reserve melted, and she told him 
 what he had brought into her hfe, how he filled it. He 
 got back to self-satisfaction and content. After all, he 
 had only tested his powers, and proved them unabated. 
 The girl was lonely, Kenny must look after her more, 
 she was singularly attractive and she had temperament, 
 certainly she had temperament. She was too much 
 alone. He had no definite intention of carrying the 
 matter any further. 
 
 Circumstances, however, decided that for him, bitter 
 irresistible circumstances. 
 
 Elsa Beethoven had watched him go in. She watched 
 him go out. She knew there had been no hght in the 
 drawing-room. Her hatred of him would triumph, 
 must triumph. She had only to think now how to 
 make that triumph complete. 
 
HAPTER XIX 
 
 Kenny forgot to miss Lilian going down in the train. 
 He met many congenial spirits, and together they 
 checked the sporting papers, discussed jockeys, and 
 abused trainers. 
 
 The train puSed into the little station of Hurst Park. 
 The stream of people, all intent upon the one goal, 
 flowed along the narrow pathway that led from the 
 platform to the club house. On all sides one heard 
 irresponsible racing chatter. The names of favourites 
 and outsiders were freely bandied about among the gaily 
 dressed ladies. Men with impenetrable faces were being 
 pressed for the information they either had not, or would 
 not give. It was a brilliantly simny day, the King was 
 expected, and the crowd grew momentarily larger. 
 
 Kenny knew his way to the paddock, and the man at 
 the gate gave him a tip. It was the habit of this janitor 
 to give various tips to amateur racing men. One of the 
 horses was bound to win, and the backer would rarely 
 forget to reward the genius who had suggested it to him. 
 
 In the paddock little groups stood about, some were 
 merely frivolous, whilst others were serious and intent 
 on the matter in hand, arguing, as if in committee, 
 the respective merits of their fancies, full of mysterious 
 secrets they had acquired from hangers on of jockey, 
 trainer, or bookmaker. Simple credulity stood cheek 
 
318 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 by jowl with simple dishonesty ; stupidity and craft 
 discussed, as if on equal terms, the odds and the causes 
 that governed them. There is a bonhomie, a camaraderie, 
 about the frequenters of a race-meeting that obtains only 
 in gambling centres. Keimy met many friends, and he 
 aired his views, talking authoritatively. He had made 
 up his mind, before the numbers went up for the first 
 race, that he had spotted a certainty. There was no 
 Lilian to hold him in check. 
 
 When he left the paddock he had the look of a man of 
 affairs. Before he hurried through the enclosure, and 
 arrived at the ring, he had decided it would be absurd 
 to put only a pound or two on " Leviathan " at six to one. 
 He had borrowed a "tenner" from Lilian before he 
 started. If he put his " tenner " on that horse he would 
 have sixty in hand for the big race. He would go home 
 with something reaUy worth having. He argued the 
 matter with himself as if indeed there coiild be no doubt 
 as to the result. Finally, he put the ten-pound note on 
 his selection. He felt he had got a bargain, for now 
 the odds were eights, and the heads were backing 
 "Tisley." Then he mounted the steps of Tattersall's, 
 and, glass in hand, began to watch the race. There 
 were several false starts, there was a very excellent race, 
 and the "dead certainty" was beaten only by a head. 
 
 It was a misfortune, it was a thousand pities, but, 
 after all, the very nearness of it proved to Kenny what 
 a fine judge he was of form ! 
 
 All through that disastrous day he kept his opinion. 
 He strengthened it with innumerable whiskeys and 
 sodas, and though his " rotten luck " pursued him, 
 he retained it to the end. Once a jockey was thrown, 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 319 
 
 once lie could have sworn the horse was pulled. He had 
 lost Lil's "tenner," that represented her weekly house- 
 hold money, and he was in debt to the tune of eighty 
 pounds. He was very depressed at the end. " Jetley " 
 romped in just as he had expected for the " Hurst Park 
 Hurdle." But, at the very last moment, he had decided 
 it wasn't good enough to back the favourite at evens, 
 when " Orison," the best outsider in the race, was to be 
 done at tens. The " best outsider in the race " brought 
 up a dilatory rear ! 
 
 Going home was dreary work. Kenny went over his 
 betting book, and thought what a " near thing " it had 
 been more than once. The " beastly " day too, turned 
 dull and grey towards the afternoon. By the time he 
 reached London it was drizzUng with rain. When he 
 got to Eton Avenue there was a steady downpour, 
 and his temper was as sodden as the weather. 
 
 It was " disgusting " to find the house in darkness- 
 It was "beastly" Lilian should be "sprawling" on the 
 sofa in the drawing-room, turning the room into a 
 " damned infirmary." If she was ill, why didn't she go 
 to bed, and send for a doctor, and not infect the whole 
 place ? He turned on all the lights at once, waking her 
 with a sudden shock from fevered dreams in which she 
 was loosed from all the moorings of her hfetime, now 
 engulphed and drowning in black waters, now groping 
 terrified in utter blackness, for the touch of a human 
 hand, always in desolation. She took a few moments 
 to recover her bearings when she was so suddenly 
 awakened. She was throbbing all over with the pains 
 and fears of her dreams. Kenny's was the hand for 
 which she had been grasping. In a flash she knew that. 
 
320 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 She welcomed it, she welcomed him, trying to smile, to 
 say something nice to him ; she was humble, deprecatory. 
 
 " I don't really think it is influenza, Kenny, only my 
 head ached so fearfully. I don't think it is infectious. 
 I am sorry I lay down here. Don't — don't be unkind 
 to me." 
 
 She burst into tears. It wasn't often she broke out 
 in that particular way. If he had not had such an 
 awful day, if he had not been wet, and tired, and not 
 quite sober, it is possible he might have been gentler ; 
 for it was easy to see that she was iU. 
 
 But, as it was, he told her not to make a fool of her- 
 self. 
 
 He hated scenes. He turned the place upside down, 
 ringing incessantly until Jane rushed up " thinking the 
 house was on fire," as she said. She was flurried and 
 rude. But the street door bell was ringing at the same 
 time, and the nursery was calling for milk, and altogether 
 Kenny's home-coming made quite a little domestic 
 tornado. And Lilian was quite helpless, she could only 
 lie on the sofa and go on crying, saying she couldn't 
 help it, begging him to forgive her, making him even 
 wilder because he knew how badly he was behaving and 
 resented the eSects. 
 
 The ring at the street door signaUsed the arrival of a 
 cab, with a note. The Sphinx wanted to see Kenny at 
 once. She knew he was probably just home from the 
 races. He wasn't to wait to change, he was to come to 
 her at once. 
 
 " Now, what on earth can she want in such a hurry 1 " 
 he asked Lilian; and, of course, Lilian could not 
 imagine. She was really past imagining, or even 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 321 
 
 responding. She was actually in the grip of a sudden 
 and sharp attack of influenza. 
 
 When, grumbhng and curious, but not without having 
 changed his boots and his clothes, and generally taken 
 care of himself, Kenny took the same cab that had 
 brought the note, and went of! at the Sphinx's command, 
 Lilian stumbled up to bed, with the aid of the banister, 
 and Jane's arm. And, once in bed, it was obvious, even 
 to Jane's Hmited intelligence, that it was a case for a 
 doctor. For, that pain in her temples made Lihan 
 light-headed. She was talking, and there was not 
 much sense in what she said. She seemed alarmingly 
 feverish too, and nurse, whose advice was sought for, 
 thought Dr. Lewis ought to be summoned. 
 
 Fortunately, or, perhaps, as events turned out, we 
 should say unfortunately. Dr. Lewis was at home, and 
 came over at once. He took a prompt, very definite, 
 view of the case. Medical men have unique oppor- 
 tunities for reahsing domestic situations ; this one was 
 nothing new to him. 
 
 " She has a sharp attack of influenza," he told nurse, 
 " probably she has been fighting against it to avoid 
 alarming her husband. She must be kept absolutely 
 quiet. I'm going to prescribe something for the fever, 
 and I'm going to give her a sleeping draught. Now, 
 will one of you sit up till Mr. du Gore comes home, and 
 tell him she is on no account to be disturbed ? He 
 must sleep in the dressing-room." 
 
 " There is no saying what time Mr. du Gore comes 
 home," grumbled nurse, " and I can't leave my boy alone 
 on the upstairs floor." 
 
 " I'm not going to sit up all night for nobody. There's 
 
 X 
 
322 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 quite enougli work in this house without that," objected 
 Jane. 
 
 Lihan heard them discussing it. The prospect of 
 going to sleep, of getting rid of that pain in her head, of 
 Deing left alone, roused her wandering wits. 
 
 " Pin a note on the door saying no one is to come near 
 me," she suggested, with her eyes closed. " He won't 
 come in if you say — " But she grew a Uttle confused 
 when she tried to say that Kenny would not come near 
 her if he thought she had anything infectious. 
 
 The note that was pinned on the door merely said 
 that she was " not to be disturbed." 
 
 It had not been contemplated that, when the sleep- 
 ing draught and the medicine arrived, she would be 
 left to administer both to herself. Yet, Jane brought 
 them up, and flounced off again, not having recovered 
 her temper after Kenny's bell-ringing. It was some 
 time later in the long hot evening when Lilian got 
 out of bed and locked her door, and gave herself the 
 draught. "I shall be all right in the morning," was 
 her last conscious thought. " If I lock the door, I 
 shall be left quiet." 
 
 What had induced Elsa Beethoven to go to the Sphinx 
 with her story is difficult of explanation. But Prince's 
 Gate was unassailable, Manny Henry away from home, 
 Kenny at the races. 
 
 Sybil Heseltine received her, listened to her. Sybil 
 had been out of pain for some days now, but all her 
 faculties were failing. 
 
 She knew nothing about Harry Annesley and Elsa 
 Beethoven. She had seen no one but Errington for a 
 week past, and he could not doubt how it was with her. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 323 
 
 He had told her nothing but of the successful election, 
 and the amusing letters he was receiving from his con- 
 stituents, of his increasing practice, everything that he 
 thought might please her. He brought her a bunch 
 of hUes, or a basket of forced strawberries, a few 
 grapes, some early peas, but now he brought her no 
 longer his troubles or vexations. He stayed only five 
 minutes ; for five minutes he could keep up that tone 
 of hght banter, could tell her of this or the other success, 
 achieved or promised. He knew all about her state, he put 
 it away from him as much as he could, but he knew the 
 end of their long strange intimacy was at hand. Why 
 should he talk to her of his wife's brother, or the trouble 
 Elsa Beethoven was giving them, or anything that might 
 hurt her in her dying ? 
 
 But Elsa had no such compunction. She sent in 
 word that she wanted to see Mrs. Heseltine urgently ; 
 and the message eluded the nurse's vigilance. Sybil 
 could not conceive why Elsa should come now; but 
 carried to the sofa in her drawing-room, dressed up for 
 visitors, yet without visitors, for so the orders had 
 gone forth, she accepted Elsa Beethoven as a welcome 
 intruder. And Elsa had no bowels of compassion to 
 be moved by the spectacle. 
 
 The dying Sphinx, in a wonderful kimono of blue 
 flowered crSfe de chine, embroidered with peacocks 
 in marvellous plumage, lay back on the pillow of old 
 rose-colour brocade. There was nothing aHve of her 
 but her brilKant eyes, those eyes set Uke jewels in her 
 head. She was quite immobile, even her breath seemed 
 paralysed, as it slowly rose and fell, only the wonderful 
 eyes in the shrunk face glowed with life 
 
32i THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Elsa began to pour oub her tale all in a breath. Since 
 Mrs. Heseltine was a friend of Errington Welch-Kennard, 
 Elsa thought perhaps she would hke to know what he 
 was doing, what a villain he had turned out, what a 
 vaurien. 
 
 At the very first word, at the very first knowledge 
 that it was of Errington the woman came to speak, 
 the Sphinx revived. It was an electric shock to her 
 faihng powers. Her brain woke up, and she Ustened as 
 if that last dose of morphia had been only water. She 
 was eager to know, to hear and understand, the story 
 that was being poured forth so rapidly, so incoherently, 
 yet with such obvious spite. 
 
 Why had Elsa come to her ? But how glad, how 
 glad she was that she had come. The story was true 
 or not true, it sounded possible. Errington had been 
 married nearly six years, and it sounded possible. 
 But no mischief must come of it. His wife must 
 not hear, his career must not suffer. This woman 
 must be muzzled, stopped — how ? Hoic ? Behind 
 those brilliant eyes the dying brain struggled for a 
 solution. 
 
 " The last time I vent zere, zey vas in the dark, 
 and he vas holding her, kissing her. He has no shame, 
 no respect. To-day, vile Kenny vos at ze races he 
 stay until it vas six. Zey had no hght, zey vas 
 togezzer on ze sofa in ze drawing-room. I saw zem 
 zrough the vindow. I tell you because you hke him, 
 you beheve in him. His vife, she beheve nossing, Ach ! 
 I vill make her beheve." 
 
 That was an admission, one the Sphinx seized upon, 
 that rid her quickly of one crying anxiety. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 325 
 
 " His wife knows nothing ? " she interpolated quickly, 
 " nor Kenny ? " 
 
 " But Kenny shall know, and Manny. Manny Henry 
 vill kill him. But I make Kenny divorce her. I force 
 him to it. Ah ! zere shall be von scandal zere." 
 
 Sybil wanted to know what motive was at work, 
 but she felt her power shpping, sUpping away from her. 
 She had done so much harm, she must do a httle good. 
 She knew her influence had been evil, always evil. It 
 would be good to draw the poison from this woman's 
 fangs. There should be no scandal. Errington must be 
 saved. She must, she would, save him. How she hung 
 on to her failing strength ! She had thought she could 
 have died quietly when the Portland Place trial was over, 
 when Kenny had been saved from what she had brought 
 upon him. And, indeed, since then everything had been 
 easier, the daily pain was daily less. And now again she 
 could not die, she dared n ot. It was very hard, she was so 
 tired. But the dayUght was bright now at the end of 
 the tunnel, ever since the Portland Place trial she had 
 seen the light shining. It was a hght that lay softly 
 on a green churchyard, white with tombs, shaded 
 with trees. Ah ! there she could rest, but not yet — not 
 yet. 
 
 Elsa's story told, she was got rid of tactfully, skil- 
 fully. She was to come again to-morrow. She was to do 
 nothing hurriedly. 
 
 Kenny was then quickly summoned. Neither nurses 
 nor doctors could stop Sybil in her desires when she was 
 as ahve as this. And, indeed, they hardly tried, the 
 end was so near, nothing mattered. 
 
 She was such a strange Sphinx. The cab had hardly 
 
326 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 gone for Kenny before another was despatched to the 
 nearest florist, for flowers, masses of flowers. 
 
 " Group them about me," she said, " put the pink 
 roses in that jade bowl, the white lilac in the crystal 
 vase, the hhes where they always are, by the Rossetti. 
 Don't let the place look like a sick-room, make it gay. 
 Spray me with attar of roses, open the window a 
 little ! " 
 
 They obeyed all her instructions; she was a little 
 impatient, perhaps, but wonderfully clear. Soon the 
 room was as if prepared for a reception, as Kenny had 
 seen it a dozen times before. He knew no difference, 
 saw no difierence, in his hostess. 
 
 " Dear Kenny, how good of you to come," she began. 
 " I daresay you were tired too. I hope you've had a 
 good day, and all the right horses have won. Or have 
 you been losing ? I do hope you've not been losing." 
 
 He laughed, he, too, was always at his best here. 
 His troubles seemed to fall from him when the Sphinx 
 questioned him about them. 
 
 " No ! I can't say the right horses have been winning; 
 if you mean, by the right horses, those I have backed. 
 I've had a very bad day. But, of course, I came to 
 you when you wanted me." 
 
 " Dear Kenny," she said again, " I had to tell you 
 something. I wanted to tell you something." She put 
 forth aU her strength. She could not bear a scene, or 
 any pathos, from Kenny. She must treat it lightly. 
 " I'm going to die," she said smihng. 
 
 He was startled, he moved away from her, shrank 
 from her quickly ; it was his instinct. Then he recovered 
 himself. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 327 
 
 " Oh some day, of course, some day. So are we all, 
 for that matter. What's the good of talking about it ? 
 You've always been ill, you're not worse, you don't 
 look any worse." 
 
 The red-shaded lights were doing their work; she 
 was glad of that. 
 
 " No, no worse, better rather ; but one never knows. 
 I'm tired of this grey old world. I'd rather like to see 
 if I can help the Psychical Research people. Never 
 mind about that. You know I have a Httle money, 
 not much, my luxuries came from Kennard. . . ." 
 
 She looked about her, she could not sigh, but all the 
 porcelain and bindings, all the pictures and bronzes, all 
 the fine stufEs and draperies, were tokens from him, and 
 her heart was so full of him. 
 
 " But what I have, — ^it is something Uke £25,000, and it 
 brings in about £1000 a year, — I've left in trust, for 
 you, you and that boy of yours." 
 
 " To me ? " the red flush came slowly into his face. 
 " To me ! what for ? " 
 
 What for ? How could she tell him ? From boyhood 
 she had destined him for ruin, planning this revenge on 
 Algernon's god-father. For Sir Algernon Du Gore had 
 sided with those who had hoimded Algernon down, 
 had stood by the side of the man who had denounced 
 him, had openly said that, as a father himself, he 
 applauded the action. And it was as a father she had 
 made Mm suffer. For, after Algernon had been spat 
 upon and tortured, there was no mercy in her. But now 
 she was sorry, she was desperately sorry. She had made 
 her will when he had been forced to leave the Army, 
 when he was at his lowest, ruined, and disgraced. 
 
328 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " Oil ! your father was my husband's god-father." 
 She could be paradoxical, why should she alter because 
 she was in sight of that green rest of hers ? "I owed it 
 to you in a way. But now — I want you to promise me 
 something." 
 
 " Of course." The slow flush had not yet faded. 
 
 What did the £80 he owed at Hurst Park matter? 
 There was a lot of spending in £25,000. It was awfully 
 good of her to leave it to him. Of course, if she said 
 she was dying, she was probably right. Now he came to 
 look at her, she did seem awfully ill. "Of course I'U do 
 anything you want me," he said awkwardly. 
 
 " Will you ? Will you promise me faithfully," 
 she asked eagerly. " Even if it is difhcult ? " 
 
 " You are not likely to ask me anything I can't do," 
 he said slowly, rather heavily. He was unused to 
 dramatic situations, he was awkward and iU at ease. He 
 wanted to go. It was awfully good of her to leave him 
 that money, though, perhaps, as her husband was his 
 father's godson, he had some claim to it; but he 
 wished he might go. It was very hard on her having to 
 die, and all that, but he wished himself out of the room. 
 
 " Come over to me, I can't talk to you while you 
 stand about, looking so distressed. Sit down here." 
 
 He took, at her bidding, the low chair by the sofa, 
 Errington's chair. 
 
 " You know your wife is very beautiful, — out of the 
 way beautiful ! " 
 
 What on earth had his wife got to do with it ? But a 
 httle twinge of compunction seized him. She had asked 
 him to be kind to her, he had not been very kind. 
 She had been ill, too, devilish seedy. He did have a 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 32& 
 
 twinge of compunction because he had not been kind. 
 And she had cried, she very seldom cried hke that. 
 
 " She is very well in her way," he said. " She is not at 
 all a bad sort ; there are a lot worse than she is." 
 
 " And a man cannot have a young and beautiful wife- 
 without other fellows envying him." 
 
 A slow smile ht up his face. 
 
 " I suppose not," he said. " But Lil knows her way 
 about. She is not that sort," he added, responding tO' 
 what the Sphinx had not said. 
 
 " I know how straight she is. I know, dear boy. 
 But every one does not know, that is the point ; it is a. 
 stupid world, such a stupid, censorious, blear-eyed 
 world." 
 
 " You haven't heard anything ? " he asked, surprised;^ 
 a httle annoyed, hardly yet roused. 
 
 " Yes, I have ! " She was going to be quite straight- 
 forward with him. She was going to take all the 
 poison from that woman's fangs. " Her aunt, Elsa 
 Beethoven, you know her, has got hold of some story 
 about your wife and Kennard." 
 
 " My wife and Kennard ! " 
 
 He was very dull ; but Lihan had won more from Mm 
 than she knew. His cheeks burned, but it was in her 
 defence. 
 
 " It's quite impossible. She hkes him, of course ^ 
 so do I." 
 
 " Yes, I know you do. This is what I want to say. 
 That woman will try to make mischief, bringing some 
 sort of evidence. Don't Usten to her, don't beheve- 
 her, promise me." 
 
 " Promise you what ? " 
 
330 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Kenny was quite upset and confused. There couldn't 
 be any truth in it, it was ridiculous. He could not 
 understand what the Sphinx was driving at. 
 
 " Lilian is all right, she is not that sort at all," he 
 
 reiterated. " As for Kennard " 
 
 Words failed him. He wanted to say that Kennard 
 was middle aged, not to be compared with himself, also 
 that Lihan adored him. He mistook service for love, 
 never doubting but that he answered all a woman's needs. 
 Sybil read more than that in his hesitation; she could 
 even smile, because he hesitated in saying it. Kenny 
 thought, all their intimates thought, that Errington had 
 been her lover. He would not hurt her by telling her 
 that Errington was no longer young, that it was not 
 likely Lihan would find him attractive. Kenny had 
 been in the Guards, he had a Guardsman's contempt for 
 a lawyer, considered in such a Hght as that in which he 
 was now asked to regard him. 
 
 " Kennard comes a good bit to the house. He 
 managed that trial all right, he hkes the boy. ..." 
 
 " Admires Lihan ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, they all do. By the way " 
 
 A memory of that note which had been flung in the 
 fire suddenly came to him, stopping his words. 
 
 " By the way ? " she questioned. Now he looked at 
 her. 
 
 Could there be ? of course, there couldn't be, anything 
 in it. 
 
 " Well, what do you want me to promise? " he asked, 
 after that slight pause. 
 
 " Well, what do you want me to promise ? " he repeated. 
 
 He wanted to get into the air and think, he wanted to 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 331 
 
 get out of the Sphinx's embarrassing presence. He must 
 have a talk with Lilian, and tell her to be more careful. 
 He almost realised, not quite, for he wasn't enough of a 
 man to realise such a thing completely, that he meant to 
 stick up for her, and believe in her, that he could never 
 doubt his wife's fidehty or her candour, that, all unknow- 
 ing, she had won him, and he wanted to tell her so. 
 
 But the Sphinx would not let him go until he had 
 promised that, now or never, whatever happened, what- 
 ever he heard, whatever proof or confession, he would 
 beheve nothing. 
 
 " Oh ! confession ! rot ! you don't know her, it's all 
 rot and lies." He interrupted her to say that, flushing 
 redder. 
 
 But she went on. Whatever the circumstances, 
 he was to swear, by all he held most sacred, by his pride 
 in his boy, by all his hopes, by his fears, for she would 
 haunt him if he disregarded her dying wish, that come 
 what may, he would believe naught ill of Errington 
 Welch-Kennard, he would never raise a hand to injure 
 him, that no one should ever urge or force him to 
 believe there was evil in the relations between him and 
 Kenny's wife. 
 
 Duly Kenny swore, easily Kenny promised. Poor 
 Sphinx ! She acted for the best, but she made a 
 great mistake. Kenny would never have believed any- 
 thing against his wife that Elsa Beethoven might have 
 told him. He could not but be moved by the Sphinx's 
 forcing him to promise that, come what might, he would 
 not injure the new M.P. 
 
 The Sphinx, when she was carried up to bed after 
 Kenny had taken his departure, had no doubt of her 
 
332 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 achievement. She was " quite ready now," she told 
 them, " quite ready." 
 
 It had always been understood that, when the end 
 came, Errington was to be sent for. Her talk with 
 Kenny had exhausted her terribly, the pain came on 
 while she was being undressed, and put into bed. The 
 morphia failed entirely. 
 
 Errington was there in time ; he would always be glad 
 to remember that he was there in time. This afternoon he 
 had wasted with Lihan, when he might have been with 
 the Sphinx. He heard afterwards, that he might have 
 been with her. But all he knew now was that he was 
 there in time. 
 
 " Apollo has failed me," she gasped, " but you 
 wouldn't fail me, you never have. I knew that when 
 I told them to send. You'll stay with me to the end ? " 
 
 " I'll stay, dear, TH stay." 
 
 He could not keep his eyes dry, but he kept his voice 
 steady. She bore her agonies hke a martyr, like a 
 saint. He stood by the bed all through the next 
 attack, the tears streaming down his face, but, when 
 she opened her eyes, he was on his knees, and his 
 face was hidden against the blanket. 
 
 " That's over," she said, in a faint husky voice. 
 " I'm nearly through, I think. Don't cry. It can't be 
 worse where I'm going than it has been here, can it ? 
 Don't cry, I can feel the bed shake. There is nothing to 
 cry about, because my journey is nearly ended. It's 
 only the crossing that is so hard." She got this out 
 slowly in short gasps. " I was always a bad traveller." 
 She wanted to jest, still she wanted to jest. 
 
 There was quiet in the room after that. The window 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 333 
 
 was open, for so she seemed to breathe better, although the 
 night air was laden with cold and darkness. She opened 
 her eyes to look at him ; her eyes hardly left him 
 whilst they had life in them. She looked small among 
 her piUows, already shrunk and chill. Only he and the 
 hired nurse, in stiff cap and manner, were there to help 
 her through the last few furlongs of her journey. 
 
 " Oh ! Sphinx, Sphinx ! " was wrung from him. 
 " You've been more than half my Ufe. How am I to 
 face the rest without you ? " 
 
 Her spirit died so much more slowly than her body. 
 
 " There is Lihan," she gasped. 
 
 Of course, he was silenced, struck dumb. How had 
 she known ? 
 
 " How far has it gone ? Tell me ! tell me truly ; you 
 know I'm dying." 
 
 " There is nothing to tell you, nothing . . . a few kisses. 
 I'm sorry you have heard. But there is nothing." 
 
 " Thank God ! " she said, " Thank God ! And you'U 
 give it up ? " 
 
 " It's over, dear, over, as if it had never been. How 
 could I refuse you anything 1 " 
 
 " It hurt me so. I'm not jealous. I've never been 
 jealous. But I wanted you to have the best. I know 
 the best now, now when it is too late. The best is 
 simple goodness, normal standards, commonplace. I 
 know now, now when it is too late. I am so tired — I'm 
 glad I'm dying, sinking, going to be dead, to lie stiU. 
 You don't know how tired I am, too tired to go on with 
 this breathing. . . ." 
 
 They brought her restoratives, and she recovered a 
 Uttle. It was a last flicker, but it seemed hke returning 
 
334 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 life. She looked almost herself after the pain had passed, 
 and she had drunk the restorative. 
 
 " Tell me," she went on again ; it was always of him 
 she was thinking : " Berenice has not disappointed 
 you ? I was right there. She was the wife for you ; 
 you are not sorry in your marriage ? " 
 
 " My wife is an angel, all and more than a man 
 could need. You were right there, you were always 
 right." 
 
 " You won't hurt her ? " 
 
 " No," his voice was choked ; " God helping me, no, 
 I never meant that." 
 
 " You know, have always known, what a woman 
 wants. Just the love they give their children, unex- 
 acting, just a breast for a tired head. I never had 
 that, only cynical words, and evil teaching, the world's 
 applause, and then its scorn." 
 
 Indeed, indeed she had suSered. 
 
 There was quiet again in the room. 
 
 " Dear, is it really well with you ? " she asked again, 
 opening her dim eyes, " I know I am troubled about 
 you. I can't remember why." Her voice was growing 
 always fainter. " It isn't about me — I can't remember." 
 
 He hesitated, but only for half a minute, he could 
 not let her grope for what she wanted. 
 
 " You wanted to question me about Kenny's wife, 
 you were troubled about me and Kenny's wife," he said 
 gently, with a break in his voice. " But it's all right, 
 dear, it's really all right." 
 
 " Do you care ? " 
 
 Her words came with ever-increasing difficulty, 
 and, in the irregular noisy breathing, and, in the 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 33& 
 
 sweat gathering on the sunken temples, they saw that 
 she was strugghng against another onslaught of her 
 pains. 
 
 He was ashamed that it was of him, and his poor play- 
 she was thinking. But he knew her so well, even in her 
 dying he must tell her the truth. 
 
 " No, Sphinx, no, I don't care. My wife and you 
 are the only two women that have ever counted with me, 
 that ever could count with me. But Lilian was so sure it 
 was easy to be good — she had no fear of me. Vanity, 
 pique, weakness, anything you hke, led me to try to 
 open her eyes. It is all past, forgive me, dear. I promise 
 you, I swear it, I'll not jeopardise that career you 
 want for me, that happiness of Berenice's. The memory 
 that it was of me you thought at such a time as this 
 will strengthen me. But you know what I am, you 
 have always known what I am." 
 
 " We are — what we have been made — ^you and I." 
 
 That attack too, passed away. The injection of 
 strychnine, the brandy and ether did their work. She 
 went on talking presently, but less coherently, less- 
 connectedly. 
 
 " I have so much more to say, it's unkind of God to^ 
 interrupt me, isn't it ? — or of the devil ? Don't kneel 
 there, don't hide your face from me. Am I hideous- 
 to look at, repulsive ? People look beautiful when they 
 are dead. How I wished Algernon would die when I 
 first knew — understood. If he had only died then ! 
 But I have kept his name ahve ! Whatever they say 
 of him, they will always talk about him ; he hasn't been 
 forgotten, I've been faithful to my vow, I've kept his- 
 name ahve. They do his plays again now — hypocrites — 
 
336 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 what hypocrites they were ! It wasn't of Algernon I 
 sent for you to speak, was it ? I forget — I forget again." 
 And she lay thinking of it for a httle time, her dying 
 strength reviving in the silence. 
 
 " Errington," she began again presently, " how bad 
 I have been ! From the world's point of view, I mean. 
 But after all, how httle the world knows. I hurt no 
 one, to begin with. I was really only a girl, stupid too, 
 for aU I thought myself so clever. Everybody hurt me, 
 on purpose, just because I had married him, not knowing. 
 And afterwards, they hurt me always. I never let them 
 know. I felt it — the ostracism — now I'm dying of it. 
 I've had love, lovers, I'm glad of that, don't let any 
 one think I'm sorry about that. I've been so badly 
 treated, stoned, but I have had something. The 
 ■' woman taken in adultery ? ' was she glad, in her 
 stoning, I wonder ? What had her husband taught her ? 
 How good you've been to me, the only one who ever 
 was. Poor me ! Even you don't quite know what it 
 was at first." 
 
 " Oh ! Sphinx, you hurt me, you hurt me. You were 
 ,a child, a child when it all began, you never knew any 
 better, they never gave you a chance, you never had a 
 chance afterwards." 
 
 " Only because of what they did to him. How true, 
 how eternally true, it is that cruelty is the only crime. 
 We women, even I, find it unbearable. Through him 
 they tortured me, every day I broke my stones with 
 bleeding hands, and every night my bed txirned to wood, 
 and I tossed bruised and sleepless ; and his degradation 
 was my degradation. Don't cry, don't cry, it shakes 
 me — and there are things I want to say." 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 337 
 
 " You are going into tlie darkness, Sphinx ; no one 
 to help you. I'm afraid, I'm afraid for you." 
 
 She was always the stronger; already his nerve was 
 failing him. 
 
 " I have helped you ? TeU me I have been able to 
 help you sometimes, that I've been of use to you. 
 Leave me that to comfort me," he pleaded. 
 
 But she had gone a httle further ofi, she could not 
 answer, she was too far to feel the assault of the last 
 pain she would have to bear, she felt only it was there. 
 She knew only she was still alive, because, somewhere in 
 the distance she felt dimly that Death held the fort; 
 the pain, her enemy, was beaten. There was no more 
 pain for her. She smiled in her dying. Her breath 
 was difi&cult, but her thoughts were clear, and she smiled 
 stiffly with her hps turning blue. 
 
 " You have been ever5^hing to me, everjrthing. Don't 
 you know that ? How strange that you don't know that. 
 Now your work is done. Even the Sphinx's lawyer 
 could not plead a cup of cold water for his cUent . . . 
 where I am going." 
 
 He burst out crying at that, the hard painful sobs of a 
 man. She did not hear him. In her ears were the 
 moaning at the bar, and the roar of the infinite. 
 
 "What's right, Errington, what's wrong? I am not 
 sure now — and now it is too late. We are only children, 
 groping in the dark." It seemed as if her mind 
 wandered further. " I've missed everything. Don't 
 let Berenice miss what I've missed — my way, and 
 everything." 
 
 " But you've had your place, Sphinx. And you've 
 been proud and brave, and you've suffered, dear, you've 
 
 Y 
 
338 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 won through suffering. Rest now. I can't pray. I can 
 watch with you, but I can't pray with you. ' Is it well with 
 the child ? and He answered, It is well with the child.' 
 That's all I remember. It will be well with you, I know it. 
 Do you feel my arms round you, they wiU be round you 
 to the end ? I am holding you ; you are not alone. Do 
 you feel my kiss on your forehead ? Here, nurse, the 
 brandy again, that's right — have you anything more to 
 say to me ? Wait, drink this." 
 
 She opened her eyes once more, they were glazing 
 fast, but she saw him. 
 
 " The Sphinx's lawyer ! " she gasped out, " Oh ! 
 plead — what did I want to say ? It wasn't all my fault ! 
 I haven't been happy, or good — but it wasn't all my fault 
 — that unnatural punishment, that hideous death — " 
 She tried, God help her, she tried to speak, though 
 her Ups were already cold, her eyes glazing. She tried 
 to say it Ughtly, though already Death had caught her 
 throat, the last lover of all was throttling out her minutes, 
 and the words could scarce come through. 
 
 He had to bend his head close for her last words. 
 Something came through that clutch on her throat, a 
 ratthng sound, and with it, her last words : 
 
 " Plead — for — criminals." 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 Ekeington could not go home after lie had seen the 
 Sphinx at last at rest. He was too agitated, too 
 genuinely unhappy, he was not ready yet to take 
 the comfort of his wife's love and sympathy. He 
 knew both were awaiting him, but the tenderest 
 touch is agony to an open wound. It would film 
 over in a few hours, those few hours he must have 
 alone. 
 
 The Sphinx died at half-past nine. He walked about 
 the wet and dreary streets from then untU twelve. 
 The weather suited his mood. He was thinking, always 
 thinking, of that unhappy hfe, of how much more he 
 might have done for its solace. That is the pain the 
 dead leave behind them. How much more we might 
 have done, what tender words we might have said, all 
 the Uttle acts of kindness we have omitted. He need 
 not have reproached himself, but he did reproach him- 
 self. For now he could never again show her that he had 
 understood her desolation, he could never again help her 
 in that desolation. 
 
 At the time of his marriage, he had dreaded her claim 
 upon him ! Now she would make that claim no more. 
 He saw the streets through a mist of tears ; and grey 
 sky and grey streets were fuU of the ache of his loss. 
 Poor Sphinx, it had been a long martyrdom. Even 
 
340 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Algernon had sufEered less. Death had more quickly 
 signed his passport. 
 
 Her words came back to him. 
 
 " Even the Sphinx's lawyer could not plead a cup of 
 cold water for her . . . where I am going." 
 
 Could it be true ? Terror shook his soul, for an 
 instant the reehng world grew black. But his mind 
 rejected it, his sane mind, and, in the rejecting, turning 
 away desperately from that train of thought, by natural 
 reaction he began to think of mundane things. He was 
 the Sphinx's lawyer ! Now he recollected that he had 
 made her will for her, and that Kenny du Gore was the 
 beneficiary. Kenny ought to be informed of her death. 
 
 Somehow, it was borne in upon him that he wanted 
 to see Kenny. He had not wronged him, he would 
 never wrong him now. The dead woman had laid her 
 command upon him. And his fancy for Lilian was as 
 dead as the Sphinx, it had been a weak thing, born 
 of vanity, rootless ; now it was dead. 
 
 He might as well see Kenny to-night, the fellow 
 always sat up late, possibly he had a Bridge party. 
 Anyway, he might as well go up and see ; there were 
 arrangements for the funeral to be made, matters to be 
 discussed. He found himself in Park Lane ; he took a 
 hansom up to Eton Avenue. 
 
 Kenny, after leaving the Sphinx some few hours 
 earher, had gone home for that talk with Lihan; but 
 she was already in bed, under the influence of the 
 chloral. Not, perhaps, sorry of the respite, he had 
 dressed and gone to the Piccadilly Club for dinner. He 
 had drunk quite as much as was good for him during the 
 day. He was exhiktateU at the thought of his legacy, he 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 341 
 
 was worried over what he had heard about his wife, he 
 was annoyed that the Sphinx must die before he could 
 come into that twenty-five thousand pounds. There was 
 only one thing for Kenny du Gore to do when he was 
 exhilarated or depressed, uncomfortable or worried. It 
 was to take more drink. And he did. 
 
 Then he played Bridge; and, of course, he played 
 very badly, losing his partner's money as well as his own. 
 Because he was a son of General du Gore, and had been in 
 the Guards, it had been his superciUous habit to consider 
 himself very superior to the other members of this some- 
 what disreputable club ; yet it was about the only club 
 in London to which he would have had a chance of 
 election. To-night, being rather drunk, he was not only 
 superciUous, but quarrelsome and aggressive. Many 
 people would have stood it. The Piccadilly Club was a 
 hotchpotch of bookmakers and betting men, theatrical 
 managers, actresses' husbands, gambUng tradesmen, and 
 professional men without professions. Persons of these 
 types are not, as a rule, anxious for a row. Their hobbies 
 are money and bad women ; they have no social status, 
 and were quite content to be treated contemptuously 
 by Kenny. 
 
 It was Kenny's ill luck that, when Tom Beaumont and 
 Billy Beresford and George Jedward had put up with 
 him long enough, Jimmy Jamieson should cut into the 
 rubber. Jimmy had no pretensions to be a gentleman, 
 but he was something of a pugihst, a big handsome 
 fellow with a yellow moustache. He had a half-sleepy 
 discontented manner, and his appearance had secured 
 him in marriage the middle-aged reversion of one of 
 London's most prominent cocottes. This lady had means. 
 
342 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 acquired from various illegitimate sources, and it was on 
 the strength of these means that Jimmy had developed 
 an insolence, if not matching Kenny's, at least, within 
 measurable distance of it. 
 
 The two were at loggerheads within five minutes 
 of Jimmy's sitting down. At first it was merely bluster 
 and bad manners ; but Kenny lost every rubber, and he 
 was a bad loser. As he grew ruder and sulkier and more 
 ofiensive, Jimmy became silky and suave and dangerous. 
 It ended in Kenny launching an accusation of cheating, 
 and Jimmy flinging a glass of whisky and soda in his face. 
 Kenny was very drunk, it was hardly fair fighting. 
 Jimmy waited for the onslaught he had provoked, he 
 planted one well-directed knock-down blow between the 
 eyes, and Kenny went down hke a stone. 
 
 News of the row penetrated quickly through the 
 club, and a crowd gathered round the belligerents, 
 Waiters and the secretary came hurrying in ; it was 
 an imprecedented incident. 
 
 Everybody talked at once, questioning, commenting, 
 exclaiming. Kenny staggered quickly to his feet, very 
 muzzy and uncertain as to what had happened. 
 
 There must not be a pubhc scandal ; " The Piccadilly " 
 could not afford that. What became of everything and 
 everybody, Kenny could never make out. He found him- 
 self eventually in the haU, with Tom Beaumont talking 
 to him hke a father, and holding a glass to his Ups. 
 
 " Here, have a drink before you go into the air. You'll 
 soon be all right. You oughtn't to have told Jimmy 
 he cheated, you ought to have remembered he was a 
 bigger man than you. Why, he was the amateur middle- 
 weight champion in 1898. It was very fooKsh. But 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 343 
 
 you are all right now, aren't you ? The club won't make 
 any fuss about it. Don't you worry." 
 
 Kenny found himself driving along in a four-wheeled 
 cab, before he quite realised how he had got there. He 
 felt rather sick and shaken, and all that had been haimt- 
 ing him the whole evening dogged him with miserable 
 persistence. 
 
 The drive was long, and down came the pitiless rain 
 all the time. The windows were obscured, the miser- 
 able horse lurched and almost fell, recovered itself and 
 jerked on. The dripping cabman seemed nearly asleep 
 upon his box, and inside, Kenny, half stunned from the 
 pommeling he had had, half drunk, damp and miserable, 
 found his thoughts had gone back to the promise he 
 had made to the Sphinx. Wet and cold, shaken and 
 depressed, instinctively, his desire was for Lilian. She 
 was a good sort. He was ill, he knew he was going to 
 be ill. She would nurse him through it; he was glad 
 he had stood up for her. He had told the Sphinx he 
 did not beHeve anything against her. Ridiculous ! 
 that middle-aged lawyer fellow ! 
 
 But after Finchley Road had been passed, and they 
 had turned into the Avenue, the sleepy cabman recollected 
 he had forgotten the number. Pulhng down the shaky 
 window with a jerk, Kenny put his head out and 
 shouted at him, " What the devil are you waiting for ? 
 For God's sake, get on ! " 
 
 That was the moment, when Kenny had put his un- 
 happy head out of the window, that Errington, having 
 driven up and found the house in darkness, was driving 
 away again in the hansom, and passed him. 
 
 The light flashed into Brrington's face an mstant. 
 
344 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Kenny saw him distinctly. He was driving away from 
 Kenny's house — it was]one o'clock in the morning ! Kenny 
 was suddenly stunned, almost sobered. It was unmis- 
 takably Errington Welch-Kennard, that lawyer fellow. 
 He felt suddenly sick, not clear, or able to reason, but 
 shaken. What the devil was the fellow doing there ? 
 
 The house was in darkness. With agitated hands 
 Kenny turned up the electric light. The spirit-frame 
 and soda water had been left for him as usual on the hall 
 table. His mouth was dry, he had gone rather pale, too, 
 round the hps. He felt somewhat as a man might have 
 done who had seen a ghost, an apparition. Of course, it 
 was a He, a damned Ue. But what was the fellow doing 
 there at one o'clock in the morning ? His mouth was dry, 
 and his hands were not very steady. It is possible the 
 drink he mixed himself had Httle soda in it. He had 
 believed in something. In all his worthlessness and 
 ingratitude, in all his meannesses and rude speech, he 
 had not been really oblivious of Lihan's quahty. He 
 had known, he had known quite well, that in all her 
 impulsiveness and quick temper, through all his con- 
 tempt and indifference, she had maintained her own ideal 
 of conduct. He was not stupid, only weak and vicious, and 
 he realised quite well that his wife had natural nobiUty of 
 character, generosity and instinctive purity. He had told 
 the Sphinx that nothing could shake his beUef in her. 
 
 But the sight of Errington Welch-Kennard driving 
 away from his house at one o'clock in the morning 
 had shaken it. He sat down on the stairs half- 
 way up. And now, perhaps, that too strong dose of 
 whisky he had taken to steady his nerves began to 
 mount to his brain. He forgot all about what the 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 345 
 
 doctor had said of the necessity for quiet for her, he forgot 
 the influenza, and the chloral, and everything he ought to 
 have remembered. He made up his mind that he would 
 have it out with her. He wouldn't put up with it. So 
 this was why the Sphinx had made him promise. She 
 
 knew all about it. She was going to make a of him. 
 
 Not he, he would see them damned first. He would 
 tell her what he thought. 
 
 He shook the handle, he hammered on the door, a 
 sudden access of rage came upon him, he wanted to get 
 at her. Damn her, damn Kennard, damn them both. 
 But the door held, and his rage left him as suddenly as 
 it had come. Now he began to grumble, sat down again 
 on the stairs, and grumbled hke a child. He was so 
 damned unlucky, everything was against him. Jamieson 
 had cheated him to-night, and the jockey had pulled 
 Jetley to-day, he knew he did. What was the good of 
 the money the Sphinx had left him 1 He couldn't raise 
 anything on it ; she might alter her will at any time. And 
 he would have to find that eighty pounds by Monday. 
 Lihan woidd have to ask her father for it, she was a good 
 sort, Lil. He didn't believe anything against her, he 
 wanted to tell her so. He shook at the door again. 
 
 Then he remembered. Poor Lil ! she was ill. She 
 mustn't be disturbed ; but he wanted to talk to her, to 
 tell her he believed in her ; and about Jetley and Jimmy 
 Jamieson. He had lost about twenty pounds at the 
 Club, too, he had been cheated out of it ; but he sup- 
 posed he'd have to settle. Everything was always 
 against him, no one ever had such ill-luck as he, it 
 began at Eton. Other fellows could do things, but 
 he was always found out. Now he owed that eighty. 
 
346 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 He even shed a few maudlin tears on the staircase over 
 his ill luck. He wanted to talk to Lihan about it, but 
 her door was locked. He kept remembering that, and 
 forgetting why it was locked. 
 
 But the lawyer fellow couldn't have got in if it had 
 been locked ! 
 
 The long day, the knock-down blow, the repeated 
 drinks, had muddled Kenny's brain. He was so " in- 
 fernally miserable." And not a soul to talk to ! Perhaps 
 the boy was awake ! He'd know who had been there. 
 She would have been up to see him, to say good-night, 
 if she'd been out of bed. She was a good mother, 
 she loved that kid. What a fool he was to think there 
 was anything wrong about her. 
 
 She would want to know if the boy was all right. Three 
 or four times last night, and the night before, she had gone 
 upstairs to see. He had told her she was a fool, she had 
 let the cold air in upon him when she had got out of bed. 
 
 Now she was ill herself. Poor Lil was ill ! Maudlin 
 sentiment, or desire for company, drove his stumbhng 
 footsteps up the nursery stairs. The boy had been 
 sleeping restlessly, he was barely convalescent, and 
 Kenny's noisy entrance woke him. 
 
 " Daddy, is that you, daddy ? " 
 
 " Yes, that's me. Well, how are you ? Want to get 
 up, eh ? " 
 
 The boy smiled, just the pretty loving smile of sleepy 
 childhood. Kenny, in his desire for companionship, the 
 hatred he had just then for soUtude, lifted him unsteadily 
 out of bed, on to his knee. He was small and thin in his 
 white night-gown, and he became suddenly chilled and 
 half frightened ; he began to struggle. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 347 
 
 " Put me back, daddy, put me back ! You smell of 
 Bomefink nasty. I want to get into bed again." 
 
 This woke nurse. In his baste to get away from his. 
 father's breath, back into the warmth of his sweet bed, 
 Everard kicked his father, struck him with his puny fists, 
 told him he hated him, and began to whimper when 
 he found himself safe. 
 
 " You ought to be ashamed of yourself," nurse said,, 
 rushing in indignantly en deshabille, a hastily donned grey 
 dressing-gown, and an array of Hinde's hair-curlers, 
 " disturbing the child, and him not out of his illness yet. 
 There's the missus too, ill as ill can be, me sitting in the 
 dressing-room, and Jane not knowing if she was safe 
 with that there sleeping draught, and the door locked. 
 And not half an hour ago, I came upstairs. And now for 
 you to come and disturb the house ! A pretty master you 
 call yourself ; you're drunk, that's what you are. Don't 
 cry, my pretty, father's drunk, no sight for httle boys." 
 She began to soothe and pet him. " You ought to be 
 ashamed of yourself," she said again to her master. 
 
 He ought to he ashamed of himself, he was no sighi 
 for little boys ! 
 
 " Well, don't look at me," he said sullenly. " You 
 needn't look at me." 
 
 " Are you crying, daddy ? Is daddy crying ? " For 
 Everard had been quickly comforted, and now was. 
 curious and interested. 
 
 " I'd make him cry if it was me. I'd teach him to> 
 come home at one o'clock in the morning, frightening 
 decent people out of their wits." 
 
 Surely, it was an impression that daddy cried, Everard 
 had in his mind, as he dropped ofi to sleep again, an. 
 
3i8 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 impression that nurse had scolded daddy, who said 
 everybody and everything was against him. 
 
 When Kenny had stumbled back to his own quarters, 
 he began to remember that nurse had been damned im- 
 pertinent to him. Everybody was rude to him ; he counted 
 for nothing in his own house. His clothes were damp, 
 he was aching all over, and he felt cold and wronged and 
 ■desperately miserable. There was sure to be a fire in 
 Lil's room. It would have done her no harm to sit up 
 and talk to him a httle. Of course, he knew there was 
 nothing between her and the lawyer, only she was so 
 " damn selfish." Why could not she unlock the door 
 and let him talk ? The thought of that other room, so 
 warm and friendly, with Lil to talk to, exasperated him. 
 He tried the door again, impatient with the handle; 
 but still the chloral held her. For the last time, perhaps, 
 she slept in peace. 
 
 He turned away at last. He even began slowly to 
 imdress. He caught sight of himself in the glass as he 
 took oS his collar. Jimmy had done his work weU. 
 One of Kenny's eyes was red, already it was beginning 
 to swell, the cheek was pufEy and discoloured, and he 
 looked sodden and soiled and disreputable. For a 
 fraction of a second the mirror was a magic one, and 
 the marred disreputable figure that he saw was the 
 core of him, the real Kenny. And this was his father's 
 
 son 
 
 Once that father had told him he ought to cut his 
 throat, that he brought disgrace on every one connected 
 with him. And what had nurse said ? He ought to 
 be ashamed of himself. Well, he was quite suddenly 
 ashamed, and he hated what he saw in the glass. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 34* 
 
 Now he saw only his inflamed eye. What a beast he 
 looked in the glass, unsteady, half drunk ! Well, it was 
 half her fault. If she had not flirted with that damned 
 lawyer ! Now she lay sleeping hke a pig. She had 
 given him up, and the boy had shoved him away, kicked 
 him. Perhaps they'd both be glad if he was dead. 
 Where was that damned pistol of his ? He recollected 
 he had it somewhere. She would wake quickly enough 
 if she heard a shot ! 
 
 Of course, this was the real motive, the real influence,, 
 that moved him. To wake her up, to have her to talk 
 to, to get companionship. 
 
 The pistol was handy enough, in the drawer of the 
 dressing-table. Providence occasionally errs in not 
 interfering at critical moments. Kenny's hand shook, 
 and he had no more genuine desire in his fuddled 
 brain to make an end of himself than he had had in the 
 beginning of the evening, yet he took the pistol out of 
 its case and fingered it. 
 
 "Well," he thought, "if I am drunk I can cock a 
 pistol." And he cocked it, and pointed it towards 
 the lurching figure in the mirror. 
 
 " I've only got to shoot straight and it will go 
 through his eye. What a noise it will make, what a fine 
 smash ! She'll wake fast enough then. Lord, what a. 
 fright she'll have ! " 
 
 He turned the pistol round. 
 
 " By Jove ! I don't beUeve it'" possible to commit 
 suicide. What rot feUows do tai^ I can't aim at 
 myself. It wobbles all over the p^dce. Suppose I 
 have a real shot for it, it wouldn't matter, I'd be well 
 out of it ; the bookies would be pretty sick, they wouldn't 
 
350 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 get that eighty, and Jimmy wouldn't get his twenty — 
 serve him right." 
 
 He was swaying about a httle in front of the glass, and 
 the pistol, though he had aimed it straight enough at 
 the red eye he saw in the glass, wavered in his shaking 
 hand when he turned it towards himself, and, instead 
 of his first finger, he put his thumb on the trigger. 
 
 " Damned if I don't have a shot for it, I won't put it 
 close, I'U just aim. Here goes. Good-bye, Kenny du 
 Gore, you've been a ripping bad lot, now you're going to 
 heU." 
 
 It was a hair trigger ; whether he meant it or not, 
 the pistol went ofE with a flash. There was only one 
 scream, that one half choked. The pistol fell from his 
 nerveless hand, all smoking. There was a smeU of 
 gunpowder, and the smoke that fiUed the room obscured 
 his eye-sight. There had been only that one scream. 
 The httle figure that had pushed him away, kicking him, 
 the httle slender nightgowned figure, was lying on the 
 floor face downward. 
 
 " What, boy ! Is that you. Kiddie ! " 
 
 He knelt down beside the child, turned him over, 
 mumbled over him, talked to him, could not reahse what 
 had happened, went on talking to him, promised he should 
 be a soldier if he hked, told him he ought to stand fire 
 better than that, burst into loud sobs, and begged him 
 to get up, then became a madman in the next ten minutes, 
 and raved to God to give him another chance, just one 
 more chance. 
 
 Still Lihan slept, slept mercifully and peacefully, 
 whilst all the house was roused, and frightened women 
 stood huddled together, crying over the cold stiflening 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 351 
 
 little figure, in its white nightgown, weeping over the 
 child, who had become suddenly conscience-stricken 
 because he " had been unkind to daddy, rude to daddy," 
 and had gone through the door Kenny had left open, 
 down the stairs he had left hghted up, to say that he 
 was sorry ; for that too was Lihan's teaching. 
 
 Poor httle stifiening figure ! The women sobbed and 
 cried over it, lifting it back presently to the warm bed 
 from which it had been called so suddenly to Eternity, 
 straightening the thin hmbs, closing the blue eyes, stiU 
 wide open, as when they had stared at daddy, " playing 
 soldiers before the glass," and the swift impression and 
 terror had been crystaUised in them. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 Kenny's raving quieted down a little, when the doctor 
 came. 
 
 " It, it can't be much. I can't have hurt him. 
 The pistol went off, I did not know he was there. 
 He has only fainted ; of course, it's only a faint. You 
 must send for another doctor, a surgeon, we'll have the 
 best advice in England. There can't be much wrong, 
 it was all done in a second." 
 
 " I should think not, probably not." Dr. Lewis had 
 answered soothingly, before he went upstairs. If it was 
 the worst, there would be time enough to tell him. Now 
 he could only urge him to be quiet, not to wake his 
 wife from her drugged sleep, to warn him that the 
 consequences to her might be serious. 
 
 But, once he was in the night nursery, with the weeping 
 women, and that little figure on the bed, already rigid 
 and stiffening, pathetically defined and small under the 
 sheet that had been thrown over him, he knew that there 
 was no use summoning a surgeon or any further medical 
 help. The bullet had gone right through the temple, the 
 little black mark over the eye told its unmistakable 
 tale. He made a brief examination, then drew the lids 
 gently over the glazed eyes. 
 
 " It must have been instantaneous, there was no 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 353 
 
 suffering, no pain. Be glad of that," he said. He had 
 children of his own, his voice had a note in it that said 
 so. 
 
 " It — it can't have killed him ! You must try some- 
 thing — you must do something. Don't stand there as 
 if there was nothing to be done." 
 
 Then, for what was before him was unmistakable, 
 and even he could not doubt it, he fell into trembhng 
 and cold sweat, into hysteria and abuse, imprecation, 
 horrible self-accusations. 
 
 Manny Henry played the man when he arrived on the 
 scene. All his hopes and ambitions had centred in 
 that little cold figure on the bed. No one knew what 
 dreams he had nurtured, what self-sacrifice he had been 
 capable of, what a capacity of ideahsation his rough 
 exterior concealed. All his fineness had concentrated 
 upon his grandson, lying now hke a chiselled Flaxman, 
 marble-white and beautiful. 
 
 " Why wasn't it 'im ? " he asked, with that first 
 heavy sob that broke from him on entering the room ; 
 but, after that, he played the man. There was Lihan to 
 be thought of, the truth must be concealed from her 
 as long as possible, Kenny must be hushed and got rid 
 of. 
 
 He was finally quieted with an injection of mor- 
 phia, and taken from the house. In the hush that 
 settled over it then the poor mother could finish her 
 sleep. 
 
 Kenny raved of many things in the first shock of 
 finding he had kiUed his son. But, what he said of 
 Kennard, did not prevent Manny asking the lawyer's help 
 for the inquest which Dr. Lewis told him was inevitable, 
 
 z 
 
354 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 asking his help to avoid, as far as possible, the 
 publicity that would follow. 
 
 " 'E talked about you an' Lil ; some talk about what 
 that wife of Sam's had said. I took no notice of it, 
 she has always been a bad lot, always. It won't prevent 
 you helping us through ? " he said to the lawyer. 
 
 " No ! " the other answered briefly. 
 
 It was a very silent and difierent Kennard that came 
 up to Eton Avenue in the early morning. He was full 
 of the sense of his own responsibiUty, and he dreaded 
 having to face Lilian. What use would his perfunctory 
 tenderness be in such a grief as hers ? Any desire or feeling 
 for her had evanesced as if it had never been. It was 
 not that he was bound by his promise, it was that he 
 had no wish to break it. 
 
 He had arrived home late the night before, and had 
 not seen Berenice. This morning she had come down 
 to breakfast, with face so newly bright, hopes so newly 
 raised, he had not quickly been able to tell her that the 
 Sphinx had died. Berenice had been, for once, obHvious 
 momentarily of the cloud on his forehead, she had not 
 noted that his head was heavy and that he had no speech. 
 She had been all gladness this morning, voluble beyond 
 her wont, and claiming his ear for talk of Harry, and 
 what yesterday had brought him. 
 
 It seemed that a great physician had seen Harry in the 
 afternoon, and made a prolonged examination of his 
 limgs. He had pronounced the case far from hopeless, 
 very far from hopeless. Harry was to have injections of 
 tubercuUn, complete cure was possible. Only, his mind 
 was to be kept calm and easy, he was to have absolute 
 freedom from worry ; and that had been provided for. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 355 
 
 too. Harry was going a voyage round the world, in a 
 hospital ship, especially fitted for such cases. It had all 
 been fixed up quickly. He was to have a valet and his own 
 hospital nurse, there were only five other patients, and two 
 doctors would accompany the trip. In its way it was an 
 experimental one, but great results were anticipated. 
 It combined the open-air cure with the tuberculin, rest, 
 milk, and massage. Berenice was so happy over it. 
 It solved the Elsa Beethoven problem, for it was im- 
 possible for her to follow or communicate with him for 
 at least six months ; and, by then, he would be strong 
 enough to cope with her, or she might have found 
 a new interest and be wilhng to let him alone. Every- 
 thing seemed possible to Berenice this morning. 
 
 " You have been so good about it all, so dear and 
 good," she said to Errington, " letting me keep him 
 here and look after him. But, Errie dear, none of your 
 goodness is wasted. You know that; I don't always 
 tell you what I think of you, but I do believe you realise 
 it." 
 
 They were seated at breakfast when she poured out 
 her tale, and over the coffee she made her little speech 
 of gratitude. Of course, he deprecated it, it even hurt 
 him. She was a thousand times too good for him, 
 just now he was full of the knowledge of it. He began 
 to tell her why he had been late last night, for she 
 never questioned his movements. He began to break 
 to her that the Sphinx had passed into the eternal 
 silence. 
 
 It was then that the butler rushed in with a long face, 
 a very undignified entry for such a dignified man. The 
 telephonfi had been ringing wildly, but that is a way with 
 
356 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 the telephone. It had not interrupted their conference ; 
 but the man's face struck both of them. 
 
 "There 'as bin an accident," he began, "Mr. 'Enery 
 wants to speak to you on the telephone. 'Is grandson 
 'as been killed." 
 
 " Oh good God ! not little Everard, not that dear 
 boy ! " For once Errington's self-control failed him. 
 " That accursed woman ! What has she done, what 
 has she said ? " 
 
 " It's 'is father as has killed 'im," went on the man, 
 who had heard all the gossip from Jane, and was posted 
 in detail. " It wasn't any woman, sir. It was Mr. du 
 Gore, who came home drunk " 
 
 " That will do, that will do, you can go." 
 
 Errington could not bear to hear it, his nerve seemed 
 suddenly to leave him. 
 
 The Sphinx's death had shaken him. Now the 
 knowledge that Elsa had been working mischief, the 
 sudden doubt as to where that mischief had led, seized 
 him by the throat. 
 
 " The boy dead — dead — that bright httle feUow, 
 impossible, incredible, damnable. Had Kenny heard 
 any gossip ? Good God ! what awful thoughts are 
 coming to me, I can't face it. Berenice, what has he 
 heard 1 " 
 
 He was all shocked and shaken, not master of himself, 
 talking quite wildly. 
 
 " Surely he couldn't have beheved any damned gossip. 
 This room is so infernally hot. How will Manny take it ? 
 He warned us " His face was white, and his manner 
 alarming. " It's with me, as with aU that set. I bring 
 evil upon everything I touch. I was only fit company 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 357 
 
 for them, and for the Sphinx, I ought never to have tried 
 to get out." 
 
 It was an Errington that the Sphinx knew, but one 
 that his wife had never seen. 
 
 But love is the finest teacher in the world. It 
 loosened all her natural reticence, showed her how to 
 treat and comfort him. Such an abandonment of 
 petting and soothing, and sympathetic tears, such a 
 rush of tender words, told him how good and sweet and 
 dear he was, and that his mistakes could never weigh 
 against his successes. She would not hsten to his 
 broken confession about himself, she hushed his self- 
 accusations, holding his face against her shoulder. 
 
 " The dear Httle fellow, so full of promise ! His grand- 
 father's pride in him was so fine. ' Evil will come of it,' 
 Manny Henry said. But in my wretched vanity and 
 self-confidence I carried my point. And Lilian ! that 
 poor mother ! " He accused himself in his relations 
 with Lilian. 
 
 "I know, dear, I know," she said, crying with him, 
 holding his head against her breast, soothing him, 
 not heeding his words. 
 
 " You have been good to her, I am so glad you have 
 been good to her. Poor thing, poor thing ! You must 
 go to her as soon as you are able. You must try to 
 help her through. Darling ! don't try to teU me what 
 I shan't believe. Let me love and pet you, you have so 
 often petted me. It is sad, terribly sad, an accident, a 
 pure accident, I am sure. We will go up there together, 
 as soon as you are able. We will try to help them." 
 
 When he had recovered himself, his breakdown being 
 but of short duration, he obeyed Manliy's summons. 
 
358 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 What he heard at Eton Avenue made him believe it was, 
 indeed, an accident, and that, beyond the responsibiHty 
 of having brought Kenny and Lilian together again, he 
 had none in the matter. Some slight uneasiness hngered 
 when Manny said Kenny had let fall some words about 
 him and Lilian, but it was obvious they had made 
 no impression on the old man ; he was ready to depend 
 upon the lawyer for everything. 
 
 In the course of the morning, too, Berenice drove 
 up. 
 
 She saw Manny that morning, and won his heart. 
 But Lihan was invisible. Her door had eventually to be 
 broken open, the sleeping draught had proved rather too 
 potent. She was in the hands of doctors and hospital 
 nurses, quite seriously ill, knowing nothing of what had 
 befallen her. 
 
 Her illness lasted over a week. Meanwhile, there had 
 been the funeral from Hans Crescent, and the inquest 
 held on the child, Harry Annesley had left England, 
 fortunately without interruption from Elsa, and hfe at 
 Prince's Gate had resumed its normal aspect. 
 
 As long as possible, Lihan was kept in ignorance of 
 what had happened. For a few days after she was 
 convalescent, she was soothed with false stories explain- 
 ing why her husband stayed away from her, why her 
 boy could not come into her room. But, in the end, 
 Manny Henry told her, as weU as he was able, first, 
 that she was childless, then that it was to her husband 
 she owed the anguish of her bereavement. 
 
 There is no grief so terrible as that which shakes a 
 woman from whose arms Death has wrenched a Uttle 
 child. For a short time the agony of her bleeding heart, 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 359 
 
 the torture of her ravishment, the throb and ache of her 
 childlessness, held her to the exclusion of everything 
 else. Under the weight of that crushing knowledge, 
 everything went from her but the memory of baby 
 sweetness, Usped speeches, moist soft kisses. 
 
 When, at length, it became inevitable, she heard the 
 wretched details of the inquest. 
 
 " That lawyer fellow, Welch-Kennard, managed every- 
 thing," her father told her. 
 
 She had forgotten Kennard. His eyes and arms, his 
 lips and the warmth of them, her emotion, and her 
 shame in it, had been part of those fevered dreams, her 
 deUrium and disordered fancies. She could hear his 
 name, and it awoke nothing in her at first, but gratitude 
 for all that her father told her he had done, and was 
 doing, for them. 
 
 " They brought it in ' accidental death.' Accidental 
 death ! " he repeated, with a choke in his throat. " He 
 ought to 'ave swung for it ; if I'd 'ad my way he would 
 'ave swung for it." Then he went on to tell her what 
 one of the jurymen had said, when they had all filed into 
 the room to see the body. 
 
 " He was covered over with flowers, there was 
 hardly anything to be seen but his dear httle face, 
 ' Oh God ! ain't he beautiful ? ' the foreman said ; 
 and then he just burst into tears, cried he did, and some 
 of the others cried too ! It was cruel " 
 
 " Who put the flowers about my boy ? " the poor 
 mother asked when she was able to speak. 
 
 " Everybody sent ; but it was the lawyer's wife who 
 came and arranged them, knelt down, she did, nurse 
 told me, and cried as if her 'eart was breaking. She's 
 
360 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 got no cMld of her own. I couldn't say notliin' to her, 
 though, if her husband hadn't interfered, you'd have got 
 rid of him, nothing wouldn't have happened — I knew 
 harm would come of it." 
 
 " Oh don't, father, don't ! " 
 
 She couldn't bear to think that. She must put away 
 from her the fear, the thought, that it was anybody's 
 fault, that what had occurred was through anything she 
 had done or left undone. It was an accident, a pure 
 accident. She must force her mind to accept that, or she 
 could not face the future. The hght of her firmament had 
 gone out, but accident had quenched it, not the lawyer's 
 influence or her weakness in yielding to it. 
 
 Kenny did not know, there was nothing for Kenny 
 to have known. 
 
 She said it over and over again, to reassure herself. 
 For, as she grew less numb, the reassurance became more 
 and more necessary. She tried to tell her father this, 
 to force comfort from him. She made a httle heart- 
 broken confession of her passages with Kennard, but 
 it made no impression upon him; daUiance was some- 
 thing Manny Henry could not understand. 
 
 " There' s nothing to reproach yourself with, my 
 pretty. Don't you cry about that ; your daddy knows. 
 I 'ad a good wife myself, your mother's daughter 
 couldn't do nothing she was ashamed of. If he 
 persuaded you back he did what he thought was the 
 right, and if he was attentive to you afterwards, it was no 
 more than he ought to 'a been. And, as for liking him, 
 so do I, though 'e did do us such a bad turn. And I 
 hke 'is wife too. I want to give her something, some- 
 thing that was 'is, she'd Uke that. And I'll subscribe to 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 361 
 
 her cliarities. He looked a picture, lie did, under those 
 flowers she brought. And she had t. e grave all Hned 
 with green, so it was Uke putting 'im in a nest. I should 
 never have thought of that, I shouldn't. Don't you go 
 for to think you was wrong in hking 'im, or 'er neither, 
 though he did bring that 'orror on us. But we've got 
 shut of that villain now. Thank the Lord we've got 
 shut of him now." 
 
 For, he had made arrangements to rid Lihan of her 
 husband, and he was getting some httle satisfaction out 
 of that. Lihan did not realise this. Where was Kenny ? 
 Why did he not come to her ? Where was he ? Her 
 days and nights began to be fuU of this question. 
 
 Meanwhile, there her father sat, talking, crying to 
 himself sometimes, but talking all the time of the boy's 
 pretty ways, of what he had said last Christmas, or a 
 few days ago, or on his birthday, maddening her with 
 memories of the sweetness gone from her. She thought 
 she hked him sitting there, talking, talking always of 
 the cruelty of it, but, in truth, it helped neither of them. 
 
 Soon she began to be haunted by what had occurred 
 the evening before her iUness, by unspoken fear and 
 terror. Her hking for Errington was as dead as his for 
 her; it was her husband she wanted, Everard's father. 
 He did not think, surely he did not beheve, he had not 
 heard — and intangible possibihties assailed her. 
 
 " Where is Kenny ? " she asked again and again. 
 
 " Never you mind about Kenny, he won't trouble 
 you no more. I've seen to that, you make 'aste and 
 get well. Then I'll take you away for a bit, we might 
 run over to Paris, or the Riviera ; never you mind about 
 Kenny. We'll sell up this place, you'll come home 
 
362 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 along of me, and, when we are settled, we'll have all the 
 toys sent over to Russell Square. We'll set 'em up, 
 you an' me, and play with them ; and pretend he's 
 looking on, that'll 'earten you. We'll have out the 
 soldiers an' the rocldn'-'orse ; I'm glad I gave him a 
 skin one, you mind what he said about it ? " 
 
 She had forgotten none of her boy's phrases, she found 
 them come sobbing back to her in the watches of the 
 night, out of the darkness. 
 
 " She's a nice gal, that gal the lawyer married ; " 
 Manny went on, " she helped me with all his treasures, 
 we wouldn't let no one else touch 'em. She thought 
 later on, p'r'aps you'd hke to have some boys over some- 
 times from the FoundUng, and let 'em play with 'em. 
 She said p'r'aps you'd take an interest in one or another, 
 that you'd take up with some children who 'adn't got 
 no mothers, nor grans. . . ." Then the outside broker 
 broke down again, and cried because there was no one 
 to call him "Gran " and ask him for toys. 
 
 Each day, however, as Lihan grew stronger, the desire 
 for Kenny, for her husband, to know what had become 
 of him, why he was keeping away from her, grew stronger 
 too. There was no use asking her father. Whenever 
 she tried to bring the conversation round to Kenny, 
 he shifted away from it. To him Kenny was a murderer. 
 The law might call it an accident, but to Manny it was 
 neither more nor less than murder. 
 
 It was he who kept Kenny away. Errington doubted 
 his wisdom in so-doing; and, not only his wisdom, but 
 his right, in assuming the moral responsibiUty of such a 
 step. 
 
 " It would kill 'er to see him. I'm not goin' to 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 363 
 
 allow it, Mister. You over-rid me once, but I know 
 what I'm about. She dreads it, that's what's keeping 
 her back. You get 'im off, get 'im off to Australia, 
 or New Guinea, or anywhere, the un'olesomer the 
 better. I don't care what I pay so long as I get rid of 
 him. I shan't tell Lily nothing until he's gone, until 
 we've seen the back of 'im." 
 
 " It isn't right," Berenice said, when Errington told 
 her what was being done. " It isn't right." She 
 repeated, almost word for word, what Errington 
 himself had said to Lilian two months ago. " They 
 are husband and wife, the child was the child of 
 their love. She has a duty to him, whatever he has 
 done." 
 
 But Manny would not hsten to argument. 
 
 Kenny had not defended himself, or his conduct, at 
 the inquest. It had needed all Errington Welch- 
 Kennard's strength and influence, all his tact and 
 experience, to prevent Kenny accusing himself of murder. 
 As it was, it took two sittings before the Coroner's jury 
 was able to deliver itself of the inevitable verdict. In 
 the meantime, Kenny was being taken charge of by a 
 medical friend of the lawyer's. He needed professional 
 care ; grief, remorse, and fear had made havoc with 
 him. 
 
 For some few days after the tragedy he had trembled 
 on the brink of sanity. He was so completely shattered 
 in nerves, that he really seemed hardly responsible 
 for his actions. He heard of the Sphinx's death and 
 his legacy ; but, beyond saying that he knew all about 
 it, and that it was no good to him now, he made no 
 comment. 
 
364 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 At first he asked constantly after his wife, but, when 
 he had been convinced that she would not see him, nor 
 hear of him, he collapsed into sullen misery and hope- 
 lessness. He was in the mood to agree to anything 
 that was arranged for him, anything that took the 
 burden of living, or of thinking, oS his shoulders. 
 
 " I suppose she thinks I did it on purpose," he said, 
 more than once. 
 
 Manny, who brought himself to interview his son- 
 in-law, left him under that impression, purposely left 
 him under it. 
 
 " You'll kill her too, if you force yourself upon her," 
 he said. " You'd better go away for a bit. It's the 
 only thing you can do, is to go away for a bit." 
 
 " I suppose you are counting on my throwing myself 
 over-board one dark night, when I've got the jim-jams," 
 Kenny said. 
 
 That is just what Manny was counting on. For, 
 the doctor under whose charge Kenny was, had told 
 them : 
 
 "He'll drink himself to death in no time if he goes on 
 as he is doing now. He has champagne from eleven in 
 the morning, and he takes spirits at all hours of the day 
 and night. The poor wretch can't sleep ; I hear him walk- 
 ing up and down half the night, talking to the boy as if 
 he were there." 
 
 Errington, who had to see Kenny about business, about 
 winding up the Sphinx's estate, and various matters 
 connected with it, was anything but satisfied with what 
 was being done. Compromise had been the one text 
 from which he had preached, and always he had meant 
 the best; but this was failure, complete, absolute. 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 365 
 
 tragic. It needed all his wife's ministering, all her 
 beUef in him, and its encouragement, to prevent him 
 from exaggerated self-blame; and even she failed to 
 persuade him, or herself, that they were doing right. 
 Yet, it was difficult to move, difficult to act, in opposition 
 to Manny. 
 
 Had it not been for Blsa Beethoven, nevertheless, it 
 is possible that Kenny would have been allowed to 
 go, that Lilian would have been left in ignorance of 
 his going, left to a hfetime of remorse, and haunting 
 doubt. 
 
 Elsa got to know that Harry was no longer at Prince's 
 Gate. She could not ascertain his whereabouts. There 
 was no use going again to Errington's office, the clerks 
 all knew her, they would not let her in. Berenice was 
 easier of access. Elsa had heard about the accident, 
 and about Kenny not defending himself. She put her 
 own evil construction upon it. And Manny himself told 
 her that Kenny was going away, that Welch-Kennard 
 was arranging his afEairs. Berenice should hear, 
 Elsa determined Berenice should hear. She would not 
 open her letters, she would not tell where was Harry, 
 nor let her see him, well, Elsa would tell her some- 
 thing. 
 
 She waylaid Berenice as she had been wont to waylay 
 Errington; but Berenice gave her courteous audience. 
 She was just stepping into her carriage, but she was 
 quite prepared to delay her drive. In truth, Harry 
 being already in the Mediterranean, out of reach, she 
 had no fear of Elsa, only disgust, and an infinite 
 contempt. 
 
 " You wish to speak to me ? " she said. " You can 
 
366 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 wait, James. Come in here, Mrs. Beethoven ; we need not 
 talk in the street." She led the way into the library, 
 but did not sit down. "Now," she said, "now, Mrs. 
 Beethoven. What is it you want of me ? " 
 
 What Elsa had to say was so much, so voluminous, 
 so wild, that it was difficult for Berenice to keep her 
 attention on it. It seemed that she had come between 
 Harry and the love of his life, that she had made him 
 act villainously, wickedly. Elsa had given up her 
 home, her good name, her children, for Harry. 
 
 " But my husband tells me you are still with Mr. 
 Beethoven," Berenice interrupted, when she had heard 
 it all for the second or third time. 
 
 " Oh ! your husband told you ! Did he ? Zat nice, 
 zat good, husband of yours, who deceive you viz my 
 niece. And now he sends Kenny avay zat it shall be 
 easier, zat no one shall interfere. Kenny, he knows, 
 he knows vy he is being sent avay. But he don't 
 care. Zat is vy he killed ze boy, but now he don't 
 care. Oh ! you are a nice pair. You keep me from my 
 Harry, so good you are ; but he, he must have his 
 mistresses. And ven Sybil, she dies, he must have 
 Lihan ! Oh ! you are ze brood of vipers. . . ." 
 
 Berenice was all compound of faith and purity, and 
 her love and gratitude for her husband could neither 
 fade nor fail. But, something he himself had told her 
 that the Sphinx had said of him and Lihan, something 
 she had heard from Manny, a few broken words — 
 
 " You sink I not know. Your husband he vas zere 
 zat night, before ze boy was killed. I saw him, in ze 
 dark, he stayed mit her three hours in ze dark. Zen 
 I told the Sphinx it vas disgraceful. I said I vould tell 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 367 
 
 Manny, everybody. But she tell Kenny herself, zen 
 zis 'appened. Oh ! I know, I know a lot of zat fine 
 'usband of yours. Of course, he made out it vas an 
 accident. It vas no accident." 
 
 For a moment Berenice's heart stopped beating. Her 
 faith held, but what was this story, what truth was there 
 in this story ? She went very pale, and Elsa saw that 
 at last a bullet had gone home. 
 
 " You ask, you ask him ven he come home," she 
 said triumphantly. " Ask him vere he vas zat 
 afternoon, vy he pull ze bhnds down." 
 
 The room swayed a Httle with Berenice ; she knew he 
 had been there. In that first breakdown, when he had 
 heard of the boy's death, he had said he was there. 
 
 " And it vas the second time. Once I saw zem 
 togezzer, he vas holding her — so ! " The dramatic 
 gesture accentuated Berenice's faintness; but she 
 grasped the back of a chair, she held herself erect. 
 
 " You are a bad and wicked woman," she said, quite 
 steadily. Her face and her lips were pale, and the grip 
 of her hands on the back of the chair was tight; but 
 she held her head erect. 
 
 " There is not a word of truth in the story you have 
 been teUing me, not one word. It is Mr. Henry who wishes 
 Mr. Du Gore to leave the country, not my husband." 
 
 " You ask him. You ask him if he vas zere all zat 
 afternoon." She was triumphant, exultant. There 
 was a look in Berenice's face that any woman could read. 
 At last she had been able to get at her, to hurt her. 
 
 " You tell me you don't believe, but you do believe. 
 I see it in your face. Oh ! I could tell you sings about 
 him, ozzer sings." 
 
368 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Berenice's voice was steady, also her intention, although 
 she had not been able to control the blood that had fled 
 from her face and hps. Dehberately she walked over to 
 the fireplace and rang the bell. 
 
 " You can stay here, or go. I will not remain in the 
 same room with you. I did not think any one could be 
 so bad. My dear husband could do no wrong in my eyes. 
 If he spent one afternoon, or two, or any time, with your 
 niece, it was for some wise kind purpose. You have not 
 injured him in my eyes." 
 
 She kept her head up, the flag of her proud confidence 
 flying. But, alone in her room (she could not at once 
 face the streets), alone in her room, nature held sway with 
 her. She could cry, hke other women. She had not the 
 vanity to think she could suffice him. She had borne, as 
 proud women bear pain, biting back their moans, word- 
 less, the knowledge of his intimacy with the Sphinx, of 
 her influence over him. Perhaps there had been a 
 rehef when she had heard of Sybil's passing. Now she 
 was confronted with this. And in the solitude of her 
 own room she passed through the bitter waters. Her love 
 held, her faith held. It was her humiUty that made the 
 water so bitter. She knew the Sphinx's superior wit. 
 Perhaps Kenny's wife, perhaps this Lihan, was clever 
 too, superior to her. And Errington was different from 
 all other men ; she would never stand in his way, he must 
 have the companionships he needed. He loved her, she 
 knew he loved her. And presently she grew com- 
 forted, through faith and humihty and, above all, 
 through love. 
 
 When she left her room,uphfted, ready to accept what- 
 ever Errington had prepared for her, it was of Keimy's 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 369 
 
 banishment she thought first. She knew this was not 
 Errington's doing; he had said again and again he 
 did not think it right, that he would have no hand 
 in it. 
 
 But still, what that dreadful woman had said might, 
 nevertheless, have a substance of truth behind the 
 foulness of its shadows. 
 
 Kenny might be going away thinking that his banish- 
 ment was at Errington's instigation. It was to Kenny 
 Berenice would go. Errington had taken her with him 
 once already. She would go again, she would challenge 
 his suspicions, if he had suspicions, as Elsa had said. She 
 would set her husband right in his eyes. There was no 
 pause or hesitation in the direction she gave the foot- 
 men. 
 
 " Boundary Road," she said. " Tell him to drive 
 quickly." 
 
 As it happened, Errington was sitting with Kenny 
 when she was shown up into that dreary sitting-room- 
 The atmosphere was stagnant and heavy, stale smoke 
 hung about it, a bottle of whisky stood upon the table, a 
 siphon of soda and the empty glass. She had come 
 swiftly, hardly staying to reason, filled with passionate 
 desire that her husband should have justice, that, at 
 least, Kenny du Gore should not say, should not think, 
 it was Errington who banished him. Once more she 
 had forgotten herself, her wrongs, if indeed she had 
 wrongs ; it was on^Errington and Kenny her mind was 
 intent, neither of them must be hurt by Elsa. 
 
 She had her reward, her sudden sweet reward. 
 For, her coming had been unexpected, and, as her husband 
 rose to greet her, the gladness of his face, the welcoming 
 
 2a 
 
370 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 smile, the outstretched hand and welcome, told her surely, 
 flashed it to her, that she had been right to have no fear. 
 He was glad in her unexpected coming, indeed he loved 
 her. 
 
 " That is right ; but how did you know I was here ? 
 I suppose they told you at the oflace." His voice had 
 the deep note in it that she loved. How tall and fine he 
 looked when he stood up in the shabby room. 
 
 He turned to Kenny to explain, sparing her speech. 
 
 "My wife has taken it into her head lately that she 
 must drive me daily to St. Stephen's. I'm late as it 
 is; but we had so many things to settle. What have you 
 got, the motor or the brougham ? I'm really glad to 
 be saved that long sohtary drive." 
 
 The smile went right into her eyes, dazzling her with her 
 own certainty. She returned it right sweetly. 
 
 " I was afraid I might be in the way, if you were still 
 talking business." 
 
 " It was very kind of you to come," Kenny said. 
 
 But it was obvious how I'ttle her coming affected him. 
 All through that last interview he had been quite sullen 
 and indifferent, he had signed all the papers the lawyer 
 had brought him without reading them. 
 
 " It's sure to be all right," he answered Errington, 
 " and I don't care if it isn't. I've no one to look after. 
 I'd just as soon you had it as anybody." 
 
 All the interview had been painful to the lawyer. 
 There was no feeling in his heart toward Kenny but pity. 
 He would have given anything to be able to help him ; 
 but it was impossible. Against Kenny's sullenness, heavi- 
 ness, indifierence, he could make no way. Indeed, 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 371 
 
 Errington was glad of Berenice's coming, and that the 
 weary task was ended. 
 
 Now he tried to speak cheerily to Kenny of his journey, 
 of the Captain, and the record speed of the boat, of the 
 catering, and the possible good company he would meet. 
 Berenice seconded him well. But Kenny only said, he 
 "supposed it was all right." 
 
 She wanted to say to him : " Is it suspicion of my 
 husband that is driving you away ? " She was eager to 
 teU him, " It is not my husband who wishes you to go." 
 But she had no opportunity. 
 
 Somehow, it no longer seemed so important to say 
 it to him, as it had been on her way here, as it had 
 been when Elsa had spoken. Everything was clearer, 
 simpler, since her husband had smiled his welcome to her, 
 since she was here beside him. Her own happiness had 
 flooded suddenly back to her ; she had not doubted him, 
 but there is ebb and flow in certainty, and it was no 
 longer ebb. 
 
 The good-byes had been spoken, they were already at 
 the door, when Kenny, with a shght hesitation, a reluc- 
 tance, as if he had difficulty in getting it out, said : 
 
 " I suppose — I suppose Lil wouldn't see me— she 
 doesn't want to see me before I go. She's as hard as 
 nails about me, I suppose — thinks I did it on purpose. 
 But, Kennard," (he was thinking only of himself, not 
 at all of what Berenice might know, or be ignorant about, 
 quite selfish and obhvious of anything but himself;) 
 " you might tell her one day, I'd hke her to know, that I 
 didn't beHeve a word of that story, the story that Elsa 
 Beethoven is putting about, — about her and you, you 
 
372 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 know. She came here jawing, but I wouldn't L'sten, I 
 turned her out. I knew it was all Ues. Tell Lilian that 
 I never believed it for a moment." 
 
 " Of course, of course," Errington answered quickly, 
 his face flushing. " A stupid He ! We won't bother my 
 wife with it." 
 
 He hated that Berenice should hear, he dreaded what 
 Kenny might say next, he went on hurriedly : 
 
 " But I havn't seen her, you know. I don't think 
 I'm hkely to see her. It is through your father-in-law 
 I hear of her anxiety that you should go away." 
 
 " Let me give her your message, Mr. du Gore. I 
 should hke to take your message to your wife." 
 
 She met her husband's eyes quite bravely. By the 
 quick flush in her face, he knew she had heard some- 
 thing, that the story, or some version of it, had reached 
 her ears. What a woman she was ! And she saw the 
 appreciation in his eyes. Now there was nothing but 
 happiness in her heart. 
 
 " Let me take your message," she said. 
 
 " If you Hke," answered Kenny heavily. " I don't 
 care who teUs her, but I want her to know." 
 
 " Poor devil ! You need not bother about his mes- 
 sage, no one need bother about his message," Errington 
 said, when he followed his wife into the brougham. 
 " He will drink himself to death on the voyage. There 
 isn't a chance for him." 
 
 He did not put his appreciative glance into words, did 
 not question her flushed cheek, quickened pulses, 
 gUfitening eyes. All the way from St. John's Wood to 
 Westminster he rallied her on her fetching him to his 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 373 
 
 parliamentary duties, rallied her, too, on her silence. 
 She was glad her faith had held. She recognised the 
 tenderness in his voice ; she put her hand in his, presently, 
 and he kept it. 
 
 " Quite happy, httle woman ? " he asked, as they 
 turned the Embankment. 
 
 He was not happy, he could not rid himself of the feeling 
 of responsibiUty. Also, in the background of his con- 
 sciousness, there was his compunction for his conduct to 
 Lihan, his behef that, if she were completely lonely and 
 unhappy, he would be unable to keep away from her. He 
 knew the way his spirit moved him. His wife stood apart 
 from all other women, unique and wonderful ; he could 
 never hurt her, yet he put that sudden question to 
 her. 
 
 ' Quite, quite happy," she answered. " More than 
 happy, about myself, ourselves ; but not about Kenny 
 du Gore. He is so young, so hopeless, and I think he is 
 longing for his wife. Are you sure her father is right 
 in thinking it would harm her to see him ? " 
 " I don't know ; I should think it very Kkely." 
 " But you don't know for sure? " she persisted. 
 " I haven't seen her, if that is what you mean." 
 He smiled again into her eyes, and her colour rose. 
 " I did not mean that. I know you will always do 
 what you think right." 
 
 " I shouldn't interfere if I were you. Manny is reaUy 
 devoted to his daughter. He neglects his business, he 
 is up there with her nearly all the time, he must know 
 what is in her mind. But, here we are. Good-bye, dear. 
 Thank you for coming for me. Don't worry about the du 
 
374 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 Gores." There was meaning in his words. " There 
 is nothing for you to worry about. Kenny's case is 
 hopeless. I've looked at it from all sides ; there isn't a 
 chance for him. Good-bye." 
 
 But Berenice thought differently. She could not leave 
 it at that. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 It was not without difficulty Berenice gained access 
 to Lilian, for, Lilian was denied to all visitors. But 
 she smiled her way into Jane's confidence, and Jane 
 herself thought the " Missus sat too much by her- 
 self." 
 
 " She won't see a soul but her father. And, when he 
 comes, he talks of nothing but the young master. She 
 wants rousing, I think, and so does Cook. It's as much 
 as my place is worth to announce you, but I'll show you 
 the way to her bedroom, and you can please yourself 
 about knocking and going in. She's just lying on the 
 sofa, same as usual, doing nothing. I fetched away the 
 tea-things ten minutes ago, and that was what she was 
 doing of." 
 
 Berenice said she was quite prepared to risk being 
 unannounced. She went upstairs, her soft draperies 
 making no sound. 
 
 She knocked, then knocked again; at length a tired 
 voice said " Come in." 
 
 She paused on the threshold, LiKan turned bewildered 
 eyes on her. It was only for a moment she paused ; but 
 this LiUan was so difierent from what she had pictured. 
 Illness had robbed the girl of her beauty, there was no 
 grace or charm in the crumpled dressing-gown and 
 dishevelled hair, she had a shawl about her, she was 
 
376 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 just a huddled figure on the sofa. The eyes she turned 
 on her visitor were black-circled and sunken, all their 
 brightness quenched with weeping, the sad eyes of a 
 young childless mother. That was all Berenice saw 
 through her sudden mist of tears, and, because that 
 was what she saw, Berenice's heart went out to her. 
 
 " I couldn't help coming," she said simply. " For- 
 give my coming — ^intruding." 
 
 " But who — who ? " stammered Lihan ; she made an 
 efiort to rise to her feet. 
 
 " Don't get up." Berenice went over to her swiftly, 
 and knelt down beside her impulsively. 
 
 " Dear, poor dear ! I wanted to come to you before. 
 I saw your boy, you know, your father let me see him." 
 
 " You ! It was you that put the flowers about him ? " 
 
 " For you." 
 
 The barriers were soon down between them after that ; 
 they seemed to hear the sound of a child's voice and 
 Httle pattering feet in the empty, silent house. 
 
 " I put the flowers for you, dear, since you were so ill." 
 Then Lihan's sob broke out; they wept together. 
 
 " Tell me how he looked," she asked presently. 
 " Father cries so when I ask him." 
 
 " He looked his mother's darhng, there was a smile 
 on his face, so beautiful and peaceful ! " 
 
 " Oh ! they might have let me see him, they might 
 have roused me to see him," she sobbed. 
 
 " I knew he was with God, no one who saw his smile 
 could doubt it. I want to help you to bear your loss, 
 they wouldn't let me come before ; but I had to come 
 now." 
 
 " I'm glad you came." 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 377 
 
 So this was the lawyer's wife! Resplendent and 
 beautiful Berenice looked in her sables and velvet, the 
 fashionable hat sitting well on the red-gold of her hair ; 
 but more beautiful than her raiment was the soft light in 
 her eyes, the light of an exquisite sympathy. 
 
 " I am so glad you came," Lihan said again, scarcely 
 knowing what spirit moved her to the words. 
 
 " I am glad you are glad." 
 
 What a bewilderment of feelings assailed Lilian, since 
 this was the lawyer's wife. Everything she had thought 
 about him, or about any feehng he might have had for 
 her, suddenly assumed a different aspect, suddenly 
 became absurd. She, in rivalry with this beautiful, 
 beautiful woman ! She tried to tell her something 
 of what she was feehng ; she began to tell her. She 
 was incoherent and faltering, but Berenice, blushing 
 a little, knew quite well what was in her mind. She 
 knew quite well that people considered her beautiful, and 
 she was always glad Errington should have that cause to 
 be proud of her. 
 
 But she could not let Lihan go on trpng to express 
 herself on such an irrelevant subject. She had a 
 message for her. She saw it was going to be made easy 
 for her, she had come thinking it might be so difficult ; 
 but now it would not be difficult, only she must take her 
 time, leading up to it, not giving it abruptly. 
 
 They talked ; soon Lilian ceased to think of Errington, 
 or of herself, soon she felt that from the woman who had 
 had no child she was drawing her first comfort, the first 
 assuagement of her grief. It was borne in upon her 
 that, at least, she could be glad she had known the 
 thrill and passion of maternity, had held her baby in her 
 
378 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 arms, and given it suck ; her life had not been unfulfilled, 
 she had her memories. She grew a little comforted, 
 talking of baby ways and pratthngs. 
 
 It was then, when Berenice saw her all softened 
 with sweet memories, that she asked, quite gently, her 
 hand laid upon the other's arm, hesitatingly, as if she 
 asked a favour : 
 
 " And your husband, your poor husband, Everard's 
 father 1 What of him 1 " 
 
 Then the flush and shame of it burnt Lihan suddenly. 
 She shook off the gentle hand, turning away abruptly. 
 
 " Don't be angry with me for asking, dear. Surely 
 you are not angry ? " Berenice pleaded. 
 
 The shame was overwhelming, it flooded speech. 
 This was the lawyer's wife, and she had thought, she 
 had dreamed — self-abasement shook her. What of her 
 husband ? VlTiat of Kenny ? She had so dreaded to ask, 
 she had been so hurt, so bitterly hurt, at his staying 
 away from her, and so frightened. She had tried to be a 
 good wife to him, all the other time she had tried to be a 
 good wife to him. The rest was a nightmare, a dream 
 left from her illness. Her hps, her arms, her thought, 
 had been for Kenny only, surely, surely he had not 
 doubted her ! 
 
 Berenice misread her silence momentarily, for it fitted 
 in with Manny's action. 
 
 " You don't really doubt it was an accident ? " she 
 said in a low voice, shocked. " Oh ! Lihan, how could 
 you ! " 
 
 "No ! no! it wasn't that," Lihan said, "it wasn't that." 
 
 Now she turned and caught the other. 
 
 "Oh! I must tell you. I hate to tell you. Kenny has 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 379 
 
 stayed away from me, not me from him. I don't 
 know why I'm frightened, it was because — because — oh ! 
 don't be shocked, it isn't true. But I'm afraid he stays 
 away because he thinks — because some one has told him 
 — ^your husband was — too good to me ! " It was cruel 
 to look upon the scarlet painful flush of her shame. 
 
 The great heart of Berenice gave a throb as she averted 
 her eyes. She did not disengage her dress or her hand. 
 
 " Poor LiUan, poor, poor Lilian ! " she said. " How 
 unhappy you must have been ! " 
 
 " You — you know it isn't true. How could he have 
 looked at me — and you — you so beautiful ? " 
 
 Berenice stooped to put her arms about her, and kissed 
 her. 
 
 " It was not because I'm beautiful," she said, " it 
 was because you and he are both too fine." Lihan 
 lay quiet after that, crying more softly. Berenice tried 
 to follow her thoughts. 
 
 " Talk to me," she said again, gently, " try to tell 
 me. I know you are both so good." 
 
 Lihan turned her desperate eyes to her. 
 
 " I'm not good. I said it was easy to be good, but it 
 isn't. It was he — that was good." 
 
 Berenice kissed her again. 
 
 Lihan thought she was telHng the truth. She thought 
 now, now that she was seeing the lawyer's wife, and 
 reahsing her, that she had been right all along, it had 
 been only friendship he had ofiered her. 
 
 " It was he that was too good," she repeated. 
 
 " I couldn't doubt him, dear, I never doubted him; " 
 yet her heart leaped ; " and Kenny could not doubt you." 
 
 Then there was another pause. 
 
380 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " You know why ke stays away from you ? " 
 
 " He doesn't care, lie has never cared. Nobody cares 
 for me now ! " She burst out crying again. 
 
 " /'m good again, muvver, and I love you," came sobbing 
 to her out of the silence. 
 
 " Oh ! I'm so sorry for you. Poor mother, poor lonely 
 mother ! But his father ! his father is lonely too." 
 
 " Kenny, you have seen Kenny ? " Her tears were 
 arrested. 
 
 " I have just come from him." 
 
 " From Kenny ? " Her voice was full of surprise. " I 
 did not know you knew each other ! " 
 
 " Nor did we." Berenice smiled. " But I wanted to see 
 him ; perhaps you can guess why." 
 
 Again the swift colour burnt in Lilian's cheek. 
 
 " And he, too, was glad, I think, in my coming. He 
 gave me a message for you." 
 
 " A message ? A message for me." 
 
 " Yes ! He said ' tell her I don't beheve, tell her I've 
 never beUeved, that fooKsh story Elsa Beethoven is 
 putting about. I know its all Ues, silly lies. I have 
 never believed a word of it." Berenice repeated this 
 quite quietly, although her colour had risen too, and her 
 eyes were still averted. 
 
 " Why has he stayed away ? " Lihan asked, breath- 
 lessly. " Then, why has he stayed away ? " 
 
 " Your father told him that it would kill you to see 
 him, that you could not forgive what he had done. He 
 goes away to-morrow. That was the message he left 
 you. He is utterly wretched, poor fellow, he feels 
 himself a pariah ! He talks to the boy sometimes, as 
 if he were stiU with him. ' I didn't mean to hurt you, 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 381 
 
 you know daddy didn't mean to hurt you,' he says 
 over and over again." 
 
 Lilian had hardly dared acknowledge to herself all 
 that Kenny's absence had meant to her. Yet, there had 
 been moments in the dead of the night, strained and un- 
 acknowledged moments, when it had seemed that only 
 her husband's head, laid low against her breast, could 
 still the agony she felt because that little head, so Uke 
 his own, had been wrenched from it for ever. 
 
 " I don't understand. Where is he going ? Why is 
 he going ? I've been so ill, I've heard nothing." 
 
 " He has so often asked if you would not even see him. 
 ' I suppose she thinks I did it on purpose,' he said to 
 Errie." 
 
 " Oh ! how awful ! how awful ! " 
 
 " He wanted to know whether you would not see him 
 before he went, whether you would not bid him good- 
 bye." 
 
 " Go on ! " 
 
 " Your father said you could not even bear the soimd 
 of his name ; you would not even let him name Kenny 
 to you." 
 
 " It — ^it was the way he spoke of him. I could not 
 bear to hear him called a murderer. I knew he loved 
 Everard." 
 
 How simple it was, how easy of explanation. 
 
 Lilian, lying spellbound, heard how her husband 
 looked, and much that he had said, and of his terrible 
 remorse, and that he, too, had been iU. She heard it was 
 Maimy who had kept him away, not Elsa's gossip ; 
 that he had put away as if it were not worth considering ! 
 It might^iave been difficult for Lilian to show Errington's 
 
382 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 wife what had been in her mind ; but it was not diffi- 
 cult for Berenice to divine it. All of them had wished 
 to tell her, insisted, as it seemed, on telhng her, that 
 which she did not wish to know. Yet the pain of it was 
 already assuaged. He had his larger appetites, his subtler 
 needs, but it was she whom he loved, and had made his 
 wife. 
 
 In elhptical, broken sentences Lihan showed what 
 was in her mind; but Berenice cleared it of false 
 shame. 
 
 " There is nothing between you and your husband but 
 misunderstanding," she said, at the end of her visit. 
 " Go to him, and tell him that he has not estranged you for 
 ever, that you never meant to let him go from England 
 without a word of pity from you, or a God-speed, 
 or promise for the future. Tell him you never meant 
 that. Don't let all the generosity be on his side. 
 He never doubted you." 
 
 Lihan kissed and clung to her. 
 
 " How good you have been to me, how good ! I 
 shall never forget it, never ! I'm going to him, now, 
 this very moment. Oh ! how I thank you ! " 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 Kenny hated scenes. Lilian made up her mind she 
 would not make a scene. 
 
 It was with infinite fatigue that, as soon as Berenice 
 had left her, she dressed, and horrified her household 
 by having a cab sent for. 
 
 " And not even a black dress on ! " said the 
 scandaUsed Jane, to the indignant nurse, as Lilian 
 drove ofi to that address in Boundary Road which 
 Berenice had given her. 
 
 She was shown up to Kenny's room without any 
 difficulty. The only difficulty she had was in getting 
 there ! For, she had been very ill, and her legs were not 
 half as strong as her head. 
 
 Kenny was sitting, almost as the Keimards had found 
 him in the afternoon. He had not the energy to go out, 
 fortunately, he had not even had the energy to ring for 
 more whisky. Lihan's entrance only partially roused him. 
 
 " Shut that damned door," were the first words she 
 heard him say. 
 
 He thought it was the maid who had come in to take 
 away the tray, to make up the fire, to " bother " him 
 but, when he saw who it was, his words were hardly 
 more gracious. 
 
 " Oh ! so you did come to see the last of me ? " he said, 
 without rising. 
 
384 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 " Kenny, I'm so — seedy." 
 
 The stairs had been a Uttle too much for her strength ; 
 the room went round her as she entered it. She turned 
 very white, and faltered, she was nearer fainting than 
 she had ever been in her hfe ; her face frightened him. 
 
 " Kenny— I'm— I'm— dying." 
 
 She wasn't dying, she was merely a Uttle faint from 
 the stairs, and the close room, and the sight of Kenny. 
 She would have fallen, but he had caught her too quickly. 
 
 " What the devil did you come out for ? " was all he 
 said. But, when she opened her eyes, she found herself 
 sharing the sofa with him. 
 
 " Are you better ? " he asked, in a minute or two. 
 " You have no right to be out ; who gave you leave to 
 come out ? " 
 
 " You wouldn't come to me," she whispered. 
 
 She was getting better ; it had only been a momentary 
 dizziness, and failure of strength. But*now she put 
 her face on his shoulder. " You wouldn't come to 
 me." 
 
 " Oh ! they told you that, did they ? " 
 
 The poor wretch held her, but he had no grace to tell 
 her that her coming meant salvation to him, hope. 
 
 " I've wanted you so, Kenny," she said, " so badly, 
 all the time." 
 
 And she burst into tears. 
 
 " Wanted me ? " 
 [ Fancy anybody wanting him ! 
 
 " All the time. Why didn't you come ? " 
 
 He was inarticulate, but she felt his arm tighten 
 about her. 
 
 " Well ! you've got me now," was all he said, " you 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 385 
 
 can make the most of it. I'm ofi to-morrow ; they've 
 told you that, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Not without me, Kenny. You won't leave me ; I 
 can't bear it, I haven't got anything else — don't leave 
 me!" 
 
 To feel that some one wanted him, that he was some 
 one's need, touched all that was touchable in him. 
 
 " You're a good sort, Lil." He kissed her hair ; he 
 was abrupt, half-ashamed. " I don't want to go alone. 
 But I didn't want to be in your way. You'll be happier 
 without me now. You couldn't see me without thinking 
 of it." 
 
 " Oh ! Kenny ! " 
 
 " I suppose they told you how it happened ? " 
 
 " Don't let us talk about it yet. How have you done 
 without any one to comfort you ? I've had father — 
 you've had nobody." 
 
 He was as dumb as an animal, but, hke an animal, too, 
 he felt the warmth of her body, and perhaps of her heart 
 through it. Courage and hope revived in him. 
 
 " You've been awfully ill, haven't you ? " 
 
 " I should have been better if you'd been there. I 
 longed for you all the time." 
 
 " Me ! " 
 
 " He was yours too ! " She burst out crying again. 
 She had not meant to, she knew Kenny hated scenes ; 
 but he did not seem to mind this one. 
 
 " I say ; don't do that," he said. And she hushed 
 herself against his shoulder, where he let her rest. 
 
 " Let us begin again," she whispered. 
 
 Many months afterwards, LiHan, recovered in health 
 
 2b 
 
386 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 
 
 and atrengtli, full of new hopes, wrote to Berenice from 
 Australia. 
 
 I can never be sufficiently grateful to you for coming 
 to me that day, for sending me to Kenny. He was so 
 unhappy. He is better now, but he hates to be alone . 
 I never leave him, he is so good and kind to me, puts up 
 with all my tempers and the things I do wrong. I know 
 now that he really cares for me, that he did all along. 
 I am going to have a baby ; we can hardly talk of it 
 yet, even to each other. But when it is with us, we are 
 coming home. I am going to bring it to father, and then 
 he will forgive me for having run away with Kenny 
 again." 
 
 There was more in the letter. There had been a 
 good many letters, all on the same Hues. And Kenny 
 had written too. He said Lil had always been a 
 good sort, and they were all right together now. She 
 had been greatly admired on board, and her hair had 
 grown since she had been at sea, it was past her waist now ! 
 — Kennard would remember her hair. He was getting 
 some very good racing, and was going to try to pick up 
 a couple of two-year-olds. The Sphinx's legacy would 
 help him to run a horse or two when he came back. 
 
 It was quite characteristic, both letters were charac- 
 teristic. 
 
 Not a word had passed between Berenice and her 
 husband about Elsa Beethoven's accusation, or Lihan's 
 broken confession. She had asked him no questions, 
 and so completed her conquest of him. Perhaps it 
 was that he had in his mind, her beautifid confidence 
 and dehcate reticence, when he handed her back the 
 letters, saying : 
 
THE SPHINX'S LAWYER 387 
 
 " Oh ! you women, you dear, good women ! It must 
 have been through watching your power of love and 
 forgiveness, each of you for her man, that the ideal was 
 conceived of the love of God for all mankind. How 
 much too good you are for us ! Berenice, it is you who 
 taught me that." 
 
 " Then I have taught you a creed in which I have no 
 beUef," she answered smiKng, carrjdng him his coffee- 
 cup. " I don't think many of us are^'good enough, or 
 great enough, for the task we have been given, to love and 
 serve. We grow our souls that way." And her grown 
 soul shone through her beautiful eyes. 
 He drew her down to him, and held her. 
 " So, in your opinion," he interrogated her thoughtfully, 
 " woman is the great compromise, standing between man 
 and|.human justice ? " 
 
 " Leavening law with love," she whispered. 
 
 Printed by Ballanttse & Co. Limited 
 Tavistock Street, Londoa 
 
A Selection from Heinemann's List of 
 Six-Shilling Novels 
 
 BENSON, E. F. 
 
 THE ANGEL OF PAIN. 
 
 THE IMAGE IN THE SAND. " The most powerful novel this clever writer has yet 
 
 written — the novel of a decade at least. Occultism has never been employed to 
 
 better pmrpose in fiction." — Manchester Courier. 
 AN ACT IN A BACKWATER. " Yet another example of the variety of his talent 
 
 and the versatility of his aims." — World. 
 THE CHALL0NER8. " A vivid and amusing book — full of suggestion, and permeated 
 
 throughout with a generous philosophy of life." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 THE BOOK OF MONTHS. "Fine work, notably the beautiful word-pictures of 
 
 ' Spring in April,' of ' Capri in September ' — well worth reading." — Aihenautn. 
 THE RELENTLESS CITY. "Highly diverting, vastly amusing — a typical novel of 
 
 to-day — full of go." — Manchester Courier. 
 SCARLET AND HYSSOP. *' A distinct advance in the author's work — a really brilliant 
 
 piece of work, unsurpassed by anything Mr. Benson has given us." — Pall Mall 
 
 Gazette. 
 THE LUCK OF THE VAILS. " Areally thrilling and exciting tale of crime and mystery 
 
 — full of entertainment." — Times. 
 MAMMON AND CO. " Bright, piquant, and entertaining from beginning to end,, 
 
 fidl of humorous sajdngs and witty things. A very clever, smart novel, wherein 
 
 lies a little lesson and much entertainment." — Daily Telegraph. 
 THE PRINCESS SOPHIA. " A gay and spirited performance, and the Princess herself 
 
 a clever picture. It is lively reading, and the characters bubble along in true Ben- 
 
 sonian fashion." — Westminster Gazette. 
 
 CAINE, HALL 
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON. " Will be most widely talked of, the most widely discussed 
 
 novel . . . probably for many years." — Bookman. 
 THE ETERNAL CITY. "Mr. Caine has produced a really fine work, a work that 
 
 will carry on his reputation to a higher point than it has yet attained." — Scotsman. 
 THE CHRISTIAN. " It is a notable book, written in the heart's blood of the author, 
 
 and palpitating with tiie passionate enthusiasm that has inspired it." — Speaker. 
 THE MANXMAN. "With the exception of 'The Scapegoat,' this is unquestionably 
 
 the finest and most dramatic of Mr. Hall Caine's novels." — Times. 
 THE BONDMAN. "This is the best book Mr. Hall Caine has yet written, and it 
 
 readies a level to which fiction very rarely attains." — Speaker. 
 THE SCAPEGOAT. " In our judgment it excels in dramatic force all the author's 
 
 previous efforts." — Times. 
 
 CONRAD, JOSEPH 
 
 TYPHOON. " An extraordinary piece of writing . . remarkably perfect in every 
 
 detail." — Westminst&r Budget. 
 THE INHERITORS (with Ford M. HuefEer). 
 
 DAN BY, FRANK 
 
 THE SPHINX'S LAWYER. 
 
 PIGS IN CLOVER. " A powerfully written novel — with d, sprinkling of real per- 
 
 sonaJities connected with the Rand." — Punch. 
 BACCARAT. " A thoroughly good novel — vivid, clever, and unusual." — Daily 
 
 Telegraph. 
 
 DAVIS, R. H. 
 
 SOLDIERS OF FORTUNE. "The adventures and exciting incidents in the book 
 are admirable ; the whole story of the revolution is most brilliantly told. A great 
 tale of adventure." — AtheneBum. 
 
 RANSON'S FOLLY. " Simply told in clear, well-cut language. Mr. Davis has 
 moments of inspiration." — Saturday Review. 
 
 CAPTAIN MACKLIN. " As thrilling a story of adventure as any boy, or man for that 
 matter, would wish to read." — Truth. 
 
 THE LION AND THE UNICORN. " Eight short stories — each a perfect piece of work- 
 manship — striking and original — fresh and distinct." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
A SELECTION FROM HEINEM ANN'S 
 FREDERIC, HAROLD 
 
 GLORIA MUNDI. " Mr. Harold Frederic has here achieved a triumph of charac- 
 terisation rare indeed in fiction, even in such fiction as is given us by our greatest. 
 * Gloria Mundi ' is a work of art," — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 ILLUMINATION. " Places Mr. Harold Frederic very near if not quite at the head 
 of the newest school of American fiction," — Spectator. 
 
 THE MARKET PLACE. " The very strongest novel I have read for some time. The 
 hero is ... a masterpiece of portraiture." — Truth. 
 
 GRAY, MAXWELL 
 
 RICHARD ROSNY. " The story has a powerful fascination." — Spectator. 
 
 THE WORLD'S MERCY. "Undeniably forcible and dramatic, and it holds the 
 reader from start to finish." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 THE HOUSE OFHIDDENTREASURE. " The book becomes positively great, fathom- 
 ing a depth of human pathos which has not been equalled in any novel we have 
 read for years past." — Daily Mail. 
 
 THE LAST SENTENCE. " A remarkable story : it abounds with dramatic situations, 
 the interest never for a moment flags, and the characters are well drawn and con- 
 sistent." — Standard. 
 
 FOUR-LEAVED GLOVER. " One of the pleasantest and healthiest novels of the 
 season . ' ' — Scotsman. 
 
 HEWLETT, MAURICE 
 
 THE FOOL ERRANT. "The art of Ui. Hewlett, his dramatic zest, his gift of his- 
 torical imagination, are things admitted — you cannot, as thev say, get away from 
 
 Mr. Hewlett."— Oiti/ooA. 
 
 HICHENS, ROBERT 
 
 THE SLAVE. "The book deserves to be widely read. Sir Reuben Allabruth, a 
 
 figure of real distinction, will take his place among the shades of fiction." — Daily 
 
 Telegraph. 
 FLAMES. " A cunning blend of the romantic and the real, the work of a man who 
 
 can observe, think, imagine, and write." — Daily Chronicle. 
 THE LONDONERS. "One of the most outrageous pieces of extravagant absurdity 
 
 we have come across for many a day." — Punch. 
 AN IMAGINATIVE MAN. "A remarkable book, written with the same brilliancy 
 
 of style as ' The Green Carnation.' " — Scotsman. 
 THE FOLLY OF EUSTACE. " As fantastic and also as reasonable as could be desired, 
 
 with the occasional dash of strong sentiment, the sudden turning on of the lights 
 
 of sound knowledge of life and things that we find in the author when he is most 
 
 fanciful." — World. 
 
 JACOB, VIOLET 
 
 THE INTERLOPER. "Faithful in portraiture . . . true in love . . . original in 
 conception." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 THE SHEEP-STEALERS. " A book so fresh, so original, and so wholesome is pecu- 
 liarly welcome — we can cordially recommend this powerful and engrossing romance." 
 — Spectator. 
 
 JAMES, HENRY 
 
 THE OTHER HOUSE. " Mr. James stands almost alone among contemporary novel- 
 ists, in that bis work as a whole shows that time, instead of impairing, ripens and 
 
 widens his gifts." — Morning Post. 
 WHAT MAISIE KNEW. " We have read this book with amazement and delight." 
 
 — Academy. 
 EMBARRASSMENTS. " Mr. James is an enthusiast who has devoted himself to 
 
 keeping alive the sacred fire of genuine literature ; and he has his reward in a circle 
 
 of constant admirers." — TijTies. 
 TERMINATIONS. "The appearance of 'Terminations' confirms conclusions long 
 
 since foregone, and will increase the respect of his r-aders." — Athencsmn. 
 THE AWKWARD AGE. " In ' The Awkward Age' Mr. Henry James has surpassed 
 
 himself. The son is a superb sketch : Mrs. Brookenham is a perfect triumph." — 
 
 Outlook. 
 THE TWO MAGICS. " In ' The Two Magics,' the first tale, * The Turn of the Screw,' 
 
 IS one of the most engrossing and terrifying ghost stories we have ever read. The 
 
 other story in the book, ' Covering End,' ... is in its way excellently told." — 
 
 Aihenimim. 
 THE SPOILS OF POYNTON. "One of the finest works of the imagination, if not 
 
 actually the finest, iliat has come from the press for several years.' — National 
 
 Observer. 
 
LIST OF SIX-SHILLING NOVELS 
 
 LANE, ELINOR M. 
 
 NANCY STAIR. "Can be heartily and sincerely commended — the portrait is one 
 that Stevensoa might have been proud to draw." — Academy. 
 
 LONDON, JACK 
 
 TALES OF THE FISH PATROL, " " Evokes memories of Stevensonian romance." — 
 
 Morning Post. 
 THE GAME. " The best tale of the sort that we remember — powerful and tragic." 
 
 — Spectaiof. 
 THE GALL OF THE WILD. " Deserves to rank high among animal stories — the best 
 
 thing its author has yet given us." — Athenceum. 
 THE FAITH OF MEN. Eight stories, crisply told, and adroitly put together. " Full 
 
 of rude strength reflecting truly the wild country of which he writes . . . with 
 
 great skill and relentless force." — Academy. 
 THE SEA WOLF. "The best piece of work which Mr. London has done . . . full' 
 
 of incident and movement." — Athenceum. 
 
 LOWNDES, MRS. BELLOC 
 
 BARBARA RESELL. " A distinguished novel — originality in its rarest form." — Outlook. 
 THE HEART OF PENELOPE. " Much above the average of modern fiction — clever, 
 original." — Spectator. 
 
 M'CARTHY, JUSTIN HUNTLY 
 
 IF I WERE KING. " A novel o£ exceptional distinction — iresh and vivid." — Times. 
 
 MACNAUGHTAN, S. 
 
 A LAME DOG'S DIARY. " Reminds us of ' Cranford/ exquisitely graceful." — 
 Spectator. 
 
 MAUGHAM, W. S. 
 
 MRS. CRADDOCK. " The profound and careful study of a vital human situation 
 
 by a writer of marked accomplishment." — Times. 
 THE MERRY-GO-ROUND. " Powerful studies of contemporary sociallife." — Scotsman, 
 
 MILLER, ESTHER 
 
 A VENDETTA IN VANITY FAIR. " An excellent little seno-comedy." Standard. 
 
 ROSABEL. " A capital story admirably told." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 A PROPHET OF THE REAL. " Clever treatment of a new and original idea." — Graphic. 
 
 MOORE, GEORGE 
 
 THE LAKE. " So finely written that one must class it with prose poems." — Times. 
 
 MOTT, LAWRENCE 
 
 JULES OF THE GREAT HEART. " A strange and masterly •woxk."— World. 
 
 OSBOURNE, LLOYD 
 
 WILD JUSTICE. (Shortly.) 
 
 BABY BULLET: THE MOTOR OF DESTINY. "A charming and amusing sketch." 
 
 — AthencBum. 
 THE QUEEN VERSUS BILLY. " These stories are admirable — positive good things 
 
 — pathos, humour, observation." — Outlook. 
 LOVE THE FIDDLER. 
 
 PARKER, GILBERT 
 
 THE RIGHT OF WAY. " Nowhere else has the author worked with a surer touch or 
 
 more careful craftsmanship." — Standard. 
 DONOVAN PASHA. " Powerfiil, various, and invigorating — full of life," — Daily 
 
 Chronicle. 
 THE LANE THAT HAD NO TURNING. " Strong and yet natural situations follow 
 
 in rapid succession . . . Mr. Parker has idealised the noblest of women." — Times. 
 
 ROBINS, ELIZABETH 
 
 A DARK LANTERN. " Undeniably a strong and clever novel — by far the best Miss 
 
 Robins has yet written." — Speaker. 
 THE OPEN QUESTION. " Worthy of the profoundest thinkers of the time, with a 
 
 literary art and a fulness of the knowledge of life which stamp a master novelist. 
 
 , . ." — St, James' Gazette. 
 BELOW THE SALT. "These three sketches are positively exhilarating. We can 
 
 sincerely recommend them as certain cures for the vapours, the spleen, or the 
 
 ' blues.' " — Daily Chronicle. 
 THE MAGNETIC NORTH. " A very remarkable piece of work , - . lives because it 
 
 is real." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
HEINE]\IANi\-::> 1.1 ^T OF SIX-SHILLING NOVELS 
 STEEL, MRS. F. A. 
 
 VOICES IN THE NIGHT. " It is the native mind which Mrs. Steel shows us as no 
 
 other writer has done. She sketches in the native scenes with intimate detail, with 
 ease in obtaining her effects." — Times. 
 
 ON THE FACE OF THE WATERS. " There is many an officer who would give his 
 sword to write military history as Mrs, Steel has written the history of the rising, 
 the siege, and the storm. It is the most wonderful picture." — Spectator. 
 
 IN THE PERMANENT WAY. " While her only rival in this field of fiction is Mr. 
 Kipling, her work is marked by an even subtler appreciation of the Oriental stand- 
 point — profoundly interesting from beginning to end," — Spectator. 
 
 FROM THE FIVE RIVERS. "They possess this great merit, that they reflect the 
 habits, modes of Life, and ideas of the middle and lower classes of the population of 
 Northern India better than do systematic and more pretentious works. — Athencswn. 
 
 THE POTTER'S THUMB. " The impression left upon one after reading * The Potters * 
 Thumb is that a new literary artist, of very great and unusual gifts, has arisen. 
 — Manchester Guardian. 
 
 RED ROWANS. " Judge it by what canons of criticism you will the book is a work 
 of art . . The story is simple enough, but it is as lifehke as anything in modern 
 fiction. There is not a false note throughout. ' — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 THE FLOWER OF F0RS1VENES8. '* Much sympathy with humanity however dark 
 the skin, and a delicate touch in narrative, raise Nlrs. F. A. Steel's Indian Stories 
 into a high rank." — Manchester Guardian. 
 
 MISS STUART'S LEGACY. " It throbs with the vigour of real creative power."— 
 Saturday Review. 
 
 IN THE GUARDIANSHIP OF GOD. " Mrs. Steele ... has mastered the art of the 
 Short Storv. There can be no higher praise." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 VAN VORST, MARIE 
 
 THE SIN OF GEORGE WARRENER. (Shortly.) 
 r^ISS DESMOND. " A true and discerning study." — Times. 
 
 AMANDA OF THE IVIILL. "Amanda is a finely composed aad bewitching figure— 
 the love-story is powerfully told." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 VON HUTTEN, BARONESS 
 
 WHAT BECAME OF PAM. (Shortly.) 
 
 PAM. (Second Impression.) " The best story we have read for many a long day." 
 — Westminster Gazette. 
 
 VOYNICH, E. L. 
 
 THE GADFLY. " A remarkable story, which readers who prefer flesh and blood and 
 human emotions to sawdust aad adventure should consider as something of a god- 
 send." — Academy. 
 
 JACK RAYMOND. ■ .^ remarkable book— the strongest novel that the season has 
 produced." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 OLIVE LATHAM. " Realistic pictures of life in St. Petersburg and the lonely districts 
 of Russia." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 ZANGWILL, I. 
 
 THE MASTER. (With a Photogravure Portrait of the Author.) " A powerful and 
 
 masterly piece of work. . . . Quite the best novel of the year." — Daily Chronicle. 
 CHILDREN OF THE GHETTO. " From whatever point of view we regard it, it is a 
 
 remarkable book." — Tirnes. 
 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS. (With over Ninety Illustrations by Phil May and 
 
 others.) '■ Mr. Zangwill has created a new figure in fiction, and a new type of 
 
 humour." — Saturday Review. 
 THE CELIBATES' CLUB. " Sparkling humour, gay characterisation, and irresistible 
 
 punning." — St. James' Gazette. 
 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER. (With Louis Cowen.) "Cleverly ongmal, 
 
 and often lightened by bright flashes of wit." — Morrtiu^ Post. 
 THEY THAT WALK IN THE DARKNESS. " Illumined by flashes of fancy, sature,, 
 
 ironv, and humour. ' — SJ>ectator. 
 DREAMERS OF THE GHETTO. " A brave, eloquent, absorbing, and, on the whole, 
 
 persuasive book." — W. E. Henley in the Outlook. 
 THE GREY WIG. " His eight stories contain much better reading than almost any 
 
 eight novels." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 THE MANTLE OF ELIJAH. " A book to be read and re-read and remembered. — 
 
 Sunday Sun. 
 
 LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN, 21 BEDFORD STREET, W.C.