Many Dimensions, Charles Williams [black authors fiction TXT] 📗

Chapter Nine

THE ACTION OF LORD ARGLAY

 

Lord Arglay, insisting on writing some business letters after lunch,

insisted also that Chloe should wait his convenience and rest until he

was ready for her. It was consequently not until after tea that he lit

one of his very occasional cigars, and standing in front of the

fireplace said: “And now, Miss Burnett, what do you make of it?”

 

“I feel an awful ass,” Chloe told him, “going for Sir Giles like that.

But I couldn’t think of anything sane to do—I was so angry.”

 

“The wrath of the Lamb,” Arglay said. “But I didn’t mean about

yourself; you saved the Lord Chief Justice throwing an inkstand at

Giles, which would have been more scandalous, but perhaps more

effective, if I had hit him. It might even have killed him. I really

meant—about the situation. Suppress, if you can, your righteous

supernatural anger with him, and tell me why you hate him so.”

 

“I don’t hate him,” Chloe said. “I only want to stop him doing anything

at all with the Stone. He oughtn’t to have it.”

 

“So far as we know, he bought it,” Lord Arglay pointed out.

 

“But it isn’t his,” Chloe pleaded, “not really.”

 

“Mrs. Sheldrake used much the same argument to convince me that all the

Types ought to be her husband’s,” Arglay answered. “Only she said, they

are his, really. Try and be masculine and rational. Why isn’t it his?”

 

Chloe made an obviously intense effort. “I think I hate the way he

looks at it,” she said. “He doesn’t care about it, only about the way

it works. He doesn’t care about Suleiman—or Charlemagne—or… He only

wants to see what it will do.”

 

“And being an incurable romantic,” Arglay said, “you hate him being

merely utilitarian. Well, I don’t suppose anyone else, for a thousand

years or so, has barked their knuckles for the sake of Suleiman the

King. I should think you were the first of the English to do it. Still—it’s hardly reason enough for your disliking Giles quite so much.”

 

Chloe went on looking for reasons. “He doesn’t care about it a bit,”

she protested. “He throws it about as if it were of no importance at

all. And he doesn’t care how much he cuts it up.”

 

“And why do we care?” Lord Arglay asked.

 

Chloe smiled. “I don’t know,” she said, “I don’t know a bit, but I do.

Don’t you know?”

 

The Chief Justice frowned at his cigar. “I will offer you two

alternatives,” he said. “First, we are both disgracefully sentimental.

We wallow in tradition. And when a traditional thing appears to produce

unusual results we can’t help being affected. Giles is stronger-minded.

Suleiman and our lord the Prophet leave him unmoved. J’y suis, j’y

reste, and so on. I hate being less efficient than Giles, but I fear

it, I promise you I fear it.” He shook his head despairingly.

 

“And the other alternative?” Chloe said.

 

“The other? O the other is that we’re right in being affected,” Lord

Arglay answered, “that amid all this mess of myths and tangle of

traditions and… and… febrifuge of fables, there is something

extreme and terrible. And if so, Giles had better be careful.”

 

“Which do you believe?” Chloe asked.

 

“My dear girl, I haven’t a notion,” the Chief Justice told her. “I

don’t see a little bit how we can decide. It’s a question -let’s be

perfectly frank—of which we want to believe.”

 

“Which do you then?” Chloe persisted.

 

“I don’t want to believe either. I hate being foolish and I dislike

being pious,” Arglay said. “Do you choose first. How will you know and

receive the Stone?”

 

“He said it was the End of Desire,” Chloe murmured.

 

“And shall that be romance or truth for you?” Arglay asked. “Make up

your mind and tell me, child; what will you have the Stone to be?”

 

“I would have it to be the End of Desire indeed,” Chloe said. “I would

have it to be something very strong andsatisfying. I am afraid of it

but I—don’t laugh—I love it.”

 

Lord Arglay looked at her thoughtfully. Then, “Do you believe in God?”

he asked.

 

“I suppose so,” Chloe said. “I think I do when I look at the Stone. But

otherwise—I don’t know.”

 

“Well,” said Lord Arglay, “I will make you a fair proposal -I will if

you will. It’s all perfectly ridiculous, but since I saw those people

this morning I feel I must be with them or against them. So I suppose

I’m against them. Not, mind you, on the evidence. But I refuse to let

you believe in God all by yourself.”

 

Chloe looked up at him, her eyes shining. “But dare I believe that the

Stone is of God?” she said. “And what do I mean by God—except -..”

she half added and stopped.

 

“Except-?” Arglay asked, but she silently refused to go on and he said:

“If you will believe this way, then I also will believe. And we will

set ourselves against the world, the flesh, and the devil, and not sit

in the seat of Giles Tumulty. But I would have you be careful there for

I think he hates you.”

 

“But what can he do?” Chloe asked in astonishment.

 

“If I have seen his mind, as I believe I did,” Lord Arglay said, “he

may also see yours. Unless the Stone has varying powers. I would have

you consider very closely in what way you may work with the Stone for

God. Also I would have you keep it on you day and night that you may

escape by it if need be. “

 

“But what need can there be?” Chloe asked.

 

“Child,” Lord Arglay answered, “it is clear that these men cannot stop

where they are. They must either abandon the

Stone to chance and itself or they must seek to possess it. Now I do

not think it is well that they should wholly possess it, and I think

that you and I should keep our Types while we can. I do not know

whether the Types can be united, but if I were Birlesmere I would

strive for that, and the united Stone would give sole power. If this is

what he does they may attempt anything within or without the Law.

Fortunately,” he added pensively, “the interpretation of the law so

often depends on the Courts. Tomorrow I will talk to the Hajji.”

 

“But what will you do with it in the end?” Chloe asked.

 

“Why, that we shall see,” Lord Arglay said. “For the Law is greater

than the Courts, and in the end the Courts shall submit to the Law. But

meanwhile you shall consider how you will follow this God that we have

decided to believe in, who, it seems, may give wisdom through the

Stone. And then we will free Giles’s prisoner in the past.” He paused

and considered Chloe with an anxious protectiveness. “But if you need

me,” he said, “come to me at any hour of the day or night.”

 

Chloe met his eyes gravely. “I will remember,” she said, “and—and I do

believe in God.”

 

“In spite of the fact that Giles Tumulty exists, so do I,” Lord Arglay

said, “though in a man of past fifty it’s either an imbecility or a

heroism.”

 

“And what for a girl of twenty-five?” Chloe asked.

 

“O in her it’s either a duty or a generosity,” Lord Arglay said, “but

for a secretary it’s a safeguard. One must have something to explain or

counter-balance one’s employer!”…

 

At Ealing Sir Giles got up in a rage. “Why the hell can’t I find out?”

he asked, throwing one of the Types on the table. The question seemed

reasonable enough. For in their preliminary investigations that

afternoon both he and the Professor had found out all they wanted.

Having worked out what seemed a moderately safe formula they had

experimented first on such minds as Sir Giles’s housekeeper, the

Professor’s old

aunt, Lord Birlesmere, and others. After something of the same

experiences which Lord Arglay had undergone, the results had been

satisfactory enough. Sir Giles, rather to his annoyance, had been

conscious of a strongly marked, if muddled, desire that some malignant

old beast should go to China, mingled with an anxiety whether a girl

called Lizzie should be getting into trouble. The process was similar

in each case. There opened before the eyes of the holder of the Stone

the scene then before the eyes of the subject of the investigation,

there arose within his mind the occupation of the subject’s mind, but in words rather than in ill-defined vision. The presence of the Stone

in the hand remained throughout as a kind of anchor, so that the

connexion with the actual world was never entirely lost, and could at

will be wholly re-established.

 

But when Sir Giles, rather pleased at being able apparently to get his

own back on the Chief Justice, attempted the most important experiment,

he found the result negligible. He framed the formula; he called up the

consciousness of Arglay; he intensified his will. There appeared

gradually before him the familiar study as seen from in front of the

fireplace; Chloe was sitting in front of him. Sir Giles was aware of

thinking that Arglay had an admirable taste in women, that though of

course this girl was not really intelligent she could probably take the

Chief Justice in. This consciousness went on repeating itself again and

again. He tried to empty his mind, but it was no good. The image of

Chloe occupied it, with a sort of detached irritation, until he

recalled himself in a fit of anger.

 

“You try, Palliser,” he said shortly. “Arglay can’t be so deMented on

that girl that he can think of nothing elsd. But I’m damned if he seems

to, unless the Stone’s gone wrong.”

 

The Professor tried, with a little more success. “The Chief Justice,”

he said, “seems to be thinking of protecting God.”

 

“Of what?” Sir Giles shrieked.

 

“That was the impression I got,” Palliser said. “A strong wish to

protect and a sense that protection was valueless,

and the idea—the word God recurring. All aimed