Part 103 (2/2)

”Why not? I did it. Alone I did it, in the interests of sacred, home-bred Art and d.i.c.kenson's Weekly.”

Torpenhow smoked in silence for a while. Then came the verdict, delivered from rolling clouds: ”If you were only a ma.s.s of blathering vanity, d.i.c.k, I wouldn't mind,--I'd let you go to the deuce on your own mahl-stick; but when I consider what you are to me, and when I find that to vanity you add the twopenny-halfpenny pique of a twelve-year-old girl, then I bestir myself in your behalf. Thus!”

The canvas ripped as Torpenhow's booted foot shot through it, and the terrier jumped down, thinking rats were about.

”If you have any bad language to use, use it. You have not. I continue.

You are an idiot, because no man born of woman is strong enough to take liberties with his public, even though they be--which they ain't--all you say they are.”

”But they don't know any better. What can you expect from creatures born and bred in this light?” d.i.c.k pointed to the yellow fog. ”If they want furniture-polish, let them have furniture-polish, so long as they pay for it. They are only men and women. You talk as if they were G.o.ds.”

”That sounds very fine, but it has nothing to do with the case. They are they people you have to do work for, whether you like it or not. They are your masters. Don't be deceived, d.i.c.kie, you aren't strong enough to trifle with them,--or with yourself, which is more important.

”Moreover,--Come back, Binkie: that red daub isn't going anywhere,--unless you take precious good care, you will fall under the d.a.m.nation of the check-book, and that's worse than death. You will get drunk--you're half drunk already--on easily acquired money. For that money and you own infernal vanity you are willing to deliberately turn out bad work. You'll do quite enough bad work without knowing it. And, d.i.c.kie, as I love you and as I know you love me, I am not going to let you cut off your nose to spite your face for all the gold in England.

That's settled. Now swear.”

”Don't know,” said d.i.c.k. ”I've been trying to make myself angry, but I can't, you're so abominably reasonable. There will be a row on d.i.c.kenson's Weekly, I fancy.”

”Why the d.i.c.kenson do you want to work on a weekly paper? It's slow bleeding of power.”

”It brings in the very desirable dollars,” said d.i.c.k, his hands in his pockets.

Torpenhow watched him with large contempt. ”Why, I thought it was a man!” said he. ”It's a child.”

”No, it isn't,” said d.i.c.k, wheeling quickly. ”You've no notion what the certainty of cash means to a man who has always wanted it badly. Nothing will pay me for some of my life's joys; on that Chinese pig-boat, for instance, when we ate bread and jam for every meal, because Ho-w.a.n.g wouldn't allow us anything better, and it all tasted of pig,--Chinese pig. I've worked for this, I've sweated and I've starved for this, line on line and month after month. And now I've got it I am going to make the most of it while it lasts. Let them pay--they've no knowledge.”

”What does Your Majesty please to want? You can't smoke more than you do; you won't drink; you're a gross feeder; and you dress in the dark, by the look of you. You wouldn't keep a horse the other day when I suggested, because, you said, it might fall lame, and whenever you cross the street you take a hansom. Even you are not foolish enough to suppose that theatres and all the live things you can by thereabouts mean Life.

What earthly need have you for money?”

”It's there, bless its golden heart,” said d.i.c.k. ”It's there all the time. Providence has sent me nuts while I have teeth to crack 'em with.

I haven't yet found the nut I wish to crack, but I'm keeping my teeth filed. Perhaps some day you and I will go for a walk round the wide earth.”

”With no work to do, n.o.body to worry us, and n.o.body to compete with? You would be unfit to speak to in a week. Besides, I shouldn't go. I don't care to profit by the price of a man's soul,--for that's what it would mean. d.i.c.k, it's no use arguing. You're a fool.”

”Don't see it. When I was on that Chinese pig-boat, our captain got credit for saving about twenty-five thousand very seasick little pigs, when our old tramp of a steamer fell foul of a timber-junk. Now, taking those pigs as a parallel----”

”Oh, confound your parallels! Whenever I try to improve your soul, you always drag in some anecdote from your very shady past. Pigs aren't the British public; and self-respect is self-respect the world over. Go out for a walk and try to catch some self-respect. And, I say, if the Nilghai comes up this evening can I show him your diggings?”

”Surely.” And d.i.c.k departed, to take counsel with himself in the rapidly gathering London fog.

Half an hour after he had left, the Nilghai laboured up the staircase.

He was the chiefest, as he was the youngest, of the war correspondents, and his experiences dated from the birth of the needle-gun. Saving only his ally, Keneu the Great War Eagle, there was no man higher in the craft than he, and he always opened his conversation with the news that there would be trouble in the Balkans in the spring. Torpenhow laughed as he entered.

”Never mind the trouble in the Balkans. Those little states are always screeching. You've heard about d.i.c.k's luck?”

”Yes; he has been called up to notoriety, hasn't he? I hope you keep him properly humble. He wants suppressing from time to time.”

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