Part 31 (1/2)
The taxi-man seemed about to say something, but he changed his mind.
”Why did you collect beetles?” the policeman asked me.
”I was interested in them.”
”But that ain't a suitable answer,” he replied. ”It ain't suitable.
That's what I've been seeing for the first time this morning. The point is--why was you interested in beetles, and why was I interested in bits o' string and stamps?”
”Yes, he's quite right,” said Sarakoff; ”that certainly is the point.”
”To say that we are interested in a thing is no suitable explanation,”
continued the policeman. ”After I'd done collecting stamps----”
”Why don't you arrest these two blokes?” shouted the taxi-man suddenly.
”Why can't you do yer duty, you blue fathead?”
”I'm coming to that,” said the policeman imperturbably. ”As I was saying, after I collected stamps, I collected knives--any sort of old rusty knife--and then I joined the force and began to collect men, I collected all sorts o' men--tall and short, fat and thin. Now why did I do that?”
”It seems to me,” observed the taxi-man, suddenly calm, ”that somebody will be collecting you soon, and there won't be no need to arsk the reason why.”
”That's where you and me don't agree,” said the policeman. ”I came to the conclusion this morning that we don't ask the reason why enough--not by 'alf. Now if somebody did as you say, and started collectin'
policemen, what would be the reason?”
”Reason?” shouted the taxi-man. ”Don't arsk me for a reason.”
He turned to his taxi-cab and jerked the starting handle violently. The clatter of the engine arose. He climbed into his seat, and pulled at his gears savagely. In a few moments he had turned his cab, after wrenching in fury at the steering-wheel, and was jolting down the road in the morning brightness in search of breakfast.
CHAPTER XXVII
LEONORA'S VOICE
”My theory,” said the policeman, ”is that collectin'--and by that I mean all sorts of collection, including that of money--comes from a craving to 'ave something what other people 'aven't got. It comes from a kind o'
pride which is foolish. Take a man like Morgan, for instance. Now he spent his life collecting dollars, and he never once stopped to ask 'imself why he was doin' it. I 'eard a friend of mine, a socialist he was, saying as 'ow no one had wasted his life more than Morgan. At the time it struck me as a silly kind of thing to say. But now I seem to see it in a different light.” He meditated for some minutes. ”It's the reason why--that's what we 'aven't thought of near enough.”
I was about to reply when a motor-car stopped before us. It was a large green limousine. It drew up suddenly, with a sc.r.a.ping of tyres, and a woman got out of it. I recognized her at once. It was Leonora. She was wearing a motoring-coat of russet-brown material, and her hat was tied with a veil.
”Alexis!” she exclaimed.
Sarakoff roused himself. He stood up and bowed.
”What are you doing here?” she asked.
”Leonora,” he said, ”I am so glad to see you. We are just taking the air, and discussing a few matters of general interest.” He patted her on the shoulder. ”I congratulate you, Leonora. You are an Immortal. It suits you very well.”
She was certainly one of the Immortals. The stain in her eyes was wonderfully vivid, but it did not produce a displeasing effect, as I had fancied it would. Indeed, her eyes had lost their hard restless look, and in place of it was an expression of bewilderment.