Part 15 (1/2)
”What of?”
”Of your own disinfectant.”
”Silly fool!”
Whether he intended the remark to be heard and thus to close the topic (which it did), or whether, as deaf people are apt to, merely misjudged the audibility of an intended sotto vocalism, I cannot say. I only know that outside in the pa.s.sage I heard the words distinctly, and therefore a.s.sume they reached round the table also.
A lull in the conversation followed, but Hasluck was not thin-skinned, and the next thing I distinguished was his cheery laugh.
”He's quite right,” was Hasluck's comment; ”that's what I am undoubtedly. Because I can't talk about anything but shop myself, I think everybody else is the same sort of fool.”
But he was doing himself an injustice, for on my next arrival in the pa.s.sage he was again shouting across the table, and this time Teidelmann was evidently interested.
”Well, if you could spare the time, I'd be more obliged than I can tell you,” Hasluck was saying. ”I know absolutely nothing about pictures myself, and Pearsall says you are one of the best judges in Europe.”
”He ought to know,” chuckled old Teidelmann. ”He's tried often enough to palm off rubbish onto me.”
”That last purchase of yours must have been a good thing for young--”
Hasluck mentioned the name of a painter since world famous; ”been the making of him, I should say.”
”I gave him two thousand for the six,” replied Teidelmann, ”and they'll sell for twenty thousand.”
”But you'll never sell them?” exclaimed my father.
”No,” grunted old Teidelmann, ”but my widow will.” There came a soft, low laugh from a corner of the table I could not see.
”It's Anderson's great disappointment,” followed a languid, caressing voice (the musical laugh translated into prose, it seemed), ”that he has never been able to educate me to a proper appreciation of art. He'll pay thousands of pounds for a child in rags or a badly dressed Madonna. Such a waste of money, it appears to me.”
”But you would pay thousands for a diamond to hang upon your neck,”
argued my father's voice.
”It would enhance the beauty of my neck,” replied the musical voice.
”An even more absolute waste of money,” was my father's answer, spoken low. And I heard again the musical, soft laugh.
”Who is she?” I asked Barbara.
”The second Mrs. Teidelmann,” whispered Barbara. ”She is quite a swell.
Married him for his money--I don't like her myself, but she's very beautiful.”
”As beautiful as you?” I asked incredulously. We were sitting on the stairs, sharing a jelly.
”Oh, me!” answered Barbara. ”I'm only a child. n.o.body takes any notice of me--except other kids, like you.” For some reason she appeared out of conceit with herself, which was not her usual state of mind.
”But everybody thinks you beautiful,” I maintained.
”Who?” she asked quickly.
”Dr. Hal,” I answered.