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

and moved

to ask whether I wanted to see the Professor!”

 

“And then crashed,” Doncaster ended. “And knew nothing more. It was at

that point that the Professor arrived. He looked a trifle embarrassed

when the mother brought him in and he saw Miss Burnett–embarrassed

first and then rather annoyed. So there was general conversation for

awhile, and I chatted to the Professor—at least, I asked him what he

thought of it all, while Miss Burnett and Pondon talked. And then we

came away.”

 

“I like the notion that he thought you wanted Palliser,” Lord Arglay

said contentedly. “The Stone seems to have a subtle irony of its own.

But why you? Very much pleasanter for him, of course; but I had an

idea, from what you said, that I was doing most of the work. Why—didn’t he see me?”

 

“It may be,” the Hajji said, “that it was by your work that this man

beheld her. For all that you showed him was the Stone, and it may be

that Miss Burnett’s work was in the Stone,

and that he beheld her there. It was in its degree, redemption which

you offered him, and if she was toiling also at redemption—the Way to

the Stone is in the Stone.”

 

“And yet his desire was to do what Palliser wished,” Arglay demurred.

 

“His desire was to fulfil good as he knew it,” the Hajji said.

“Therefore he was capable of receiving within those conditions the End

of Desire, which is eternally good.”

 

“All times are within it and all places, it seems,” Arglay said. “Are

not therefore its own Types within itself?”

 

“I think that is true,” the Hajji answered. “Certainly therefore this

Thing contains its own Unity; it is for us to find the path by which

that Unity may be manifested.”

 

“It seems to me,” Doncaster began….

 

For some time Chloe had been conscious of a restlessness which she had

been trying in vain to subdue. She was tired or something, she

supposed, but things looked different somehow. What a lot of bother

everyone was making! after all, there were other things in the world.

And all this talk about redemption and the End of Desire. The end of

desire was to get what you wanted. The Hajji was rather a silly little

old man, she thought with his Compassionates and his Muhammeds and his

Peace be upon him and his under the Protection—what protection and from

what? A little intelligent watchfulness was all the protection she

needed, and she could supply that herself. As for Lord Arglay-Lord

Arglay, it occurred to her, was unmarried, and if not rich—he could

hardly be that—still he must have…. And no-one but Reginald Montague

to leave it to! Old men sometimes… after all he wasn’t repulsive. If

be married Chloe Burnett, Chloe Burnett would have a more comfortable

life. And if he didn’t marry still he was the kind of man who would

probably treat his mistress very fairly. Suppose he had one already?

That must be seen to. Chloe Burnett might not be exactly beautiful, but

she had (so she had been told) a genius for making the most of herself

and her

art. There wouldn’t be many mistresses who could outdo her if it really

came to a tussle.

 

The Hajji stopped speaking, Lord Arglay stirred, and Chloe woke to

sudden anxiety. What on earth had she been thinking? Thoughts had

passed through her mind in their usual way, but not—surely not!—usual

thoughts. Had she really been guessing how much money Lord Arglay had,

and whether she could get it? Had she really been planning to use the

hands clasped beneath her chin to trap him? Now if it had been this

young Doncaster man… his hair would be rather pleasant to pull

rather hard, he had thick hair; and well-made wrists, better fnan

Frank’s. Not that there would be any need to give up Frank, or anyhow

not entirely. Chloe Burnett could deal with them as Sir Giles dealt

with Arglay and the Hajji or the fellow at Birmingham, a silly fellow

as she remembered him. Useful no doubt in a way, and amusing to think

of him lost in the past. But -very, very dull and only meant to be made

use of by other people much more intelligent-Sir Giles for instance.

“Bloody fool!” Chloe said aloud.

 

As Oliver Doncaster had just begun “It seems to me-” her words caused,

even in that company, a moment’s attention. Oliver stopped speaking

with a shock and found himself faced with the unbelievable. The Hajji

turned on her a look of sudden alarm. Lord Arglay, taking her in with a

side glance, said casually-“Not you, Mr. Doncaster; I think probably

Palliser. But in any case we have for the moment done what we can.

Would it be too much to ask you to call in the morning?”

 

Oliver had had earlier some general expectation of seeing Chloe home.

But he wasn’t as clear as the Chief justice that the words hadn’t been

meant for him, and of course’if that was what she thought the sooner he

got away the better. Dare he risk shaking hands? He offered her his as

charmingly as possible. “Very well, Lord Arglay,” he said. “Good-night,

Miss Burnett. Thank you for letting me come to Birmingham.”

 

Chloe gave him her hand and looked at him. Oliver who had been all day

conscious of being held at an emotional distance discovered, with the

second shock in two minutes, that he was being deliberately invited to

be understanding. Her fingers caressed for a moment the back of his

hand; her mouth shaped itself for the kiss the circumstances forbade;

her eyes mourned rebukingly over his departure. “Good-night, Mr.

Doncaster,” said a voice full of suggestions of intimacies that, so far

as he could remember, hadn’t happened, “We may meet—again—in the

morning then?”

 

“She can’t have meant him,” the Chief justice thought to himself. “But

it certainly sounded as if she did. ‘Bloody fool’—it’s the way these

modern young creatures talk. Yes, but not here, not—with other people

about—to me. I shouldn’t have thought she’d have done that. Still—she

did. No,” he thought suddenly. “I don’t believe it. She never talked

like that—except for amusement or from bitterness. And never so. She is

civilized; she is in obedience to the Law.”

 

He had been taking Oliver to the door while he was thinking and once

that was closed he hastened back to the study. Chloe was standing by

the fireplace, looking round the room. Lord Arglay had seen her

standing just there often enough, but in her eyes now there was a

difference. They surveyed, they considered, they calculated; so much he

saw before she brought them back to meet his with a smile. But even

that had something unnatural about it, a determination of quite another

kind from that which had on other occasions once or twice appeared in

the depths of her look, a hardness alien to the secretary the Chief

justice knew. For a moment, as their glances met, this gave place to a

sudden bewilderment, but before he could say a word she had turned

aside and was looking towards the window. Lord Arglay looked round for

the Hajji, who had apparently withdrawn into some corner, and found him

at last by his elbow. In that room they were far enough from Chloe not

to be heard if they spoke softly, and in such a tone the Hajji said:

“Something has frightened you?”

 

“No,” Arglay answered, “not frightened. I was a little startled, but I

expect it’s all right. No doubt Miss Burnett is a little overtired.”

 

“I do not know Miss Burnett,” the Hajji said, “except that I saw the

Name upon her forehead. But I have watched her eyes, and I think you

are right to be anxious.”

 

“Why?” Arglay said abruptly.

 

“Her eyes and her mouth have changed,” the Hajji answered. “They are

curious and greedy—and even malicious. And if, as I think, she is not

by nature greedy or malicious…”

 

He paused, but Arglay only said, “Well?”

 

“Then,” the Hajji concluded, “something or someone is making her so.”

 

In case Chloe should catch his eyes again Lord Arglay looked at the

Hajji and said, “It seems a damn silly thing to try to do. What good

would it be?”

 

“It might be a good deal of good,” the Hajji said, “if indeed they

desire to obtain the Types which you have. But even if not, have you

never known men act from hate and anger alone?”

 

“And is this also, if it is so,” Lord Arglay said, ironically,- part of

the miracle of the Stone?”

 

“I warned you that there might be much evil,” the Hajji answered, and

fell silent.

 

Lord Arglay glanced again at Chloe. “You think they may be playing

tricks on her?” he asked, but more as if in courteous conversation than

in inquiry, and the other did not trouble to answer. At last, “Well,”

he went on, “if this is so I will do what can be done.”

 

“Will you try and find her in the Stone?” the Hajji asked.

 

“No,” Arglay answered, “no, I do not think I will take up the Stone.

Between her and me I will not have any even of these things. “

 

“You love her?” the Hajji said, half in statement, half in

interrogation.

 

“Why, I do not very well know what love may be,” Lord Arglay said, “but

so far as is possible to men I think that there is justice between her

and me, and if that justice cannot help us now I do not think that any

miracles will.”

 

“This is a very rare thing,” the Hajji said doubtfully.

 

“My secretary,” Lord Arglay said, half-lightly, half, seriously, “is a

very rare young lady.” His voice became entirely serious, as he added,

“And if it is Giles, I will perhaps kill him tomorrow. But now I will

see what is at work here.”

 

“Cannot I help you?” the other asked.

 

“No,” Arglay said. “I will do this alone. Good-night.”

 

He shook hands and opened the door. The Hajji, without going nearer,

bowed to Chloe and walked out. Lord Arglay shut the door and strolled

across the room.

 

“I thought he was never going,” Chloe said.

 

The remark was so perfectly normal that for a moment the Chief justice

felt almost idiotically defeated. But something reminded him that Chloe

had never been the kind of secretary who remarked in that way on her

employer’s visitors. She would have thought it presumptuous and rude,

and the affection that had grown between them had never made her more

careless of her behaviour as a subordinate or as a friend. In both

capacities the remark was inadmissible, and Lord Arglay knew it as he

took the last three steps that brought him level with her. He smiled at

her and for a moment considered.

 

“Do you feel very tired?” he asked.

 

“Well, it was a hell of a journey,” Chloe said, “but no—not if you want

me, I mean.”

 

“Too tired,” Lord Arglay said, “to do a little Organic Law?” Chloe

looked at him blankly for a moment. “O!” she exclaimed, and before she

could add any more the Chief Justice went on easily, “I want you to

consider it in connexion with our last night’s resolution. I want you

to think.” His voice on the last word became suddenly authoritative.

 

Chloe laid a hand on his arm. “I am rather tired,” she said, “but of

course if you must have it done-” The hand slid down his arm to his

hand and lingered there. Lord Arglay took it and held it.