Chapter IX: Part II: Further Off From Heaven (2)

Lake was rather angry. "I can assure you I am not talking for effect. There are some people who don't, you know."

"All right," said the doctor, unperturbed. "Keep your hair on. I've got some tobacco prepared with hasheesh upstairs. It is some that I had to confiscate. I'll give you a pipeful and you can try it after dinner. Smoke it in your own room, though--not downstairs."

"Leave it alone," growled Brookes.

"Thanks very much," said Lake to the doctor. "I'll come up with you now and get it."

The three men rose. As they did so the pretty girl from Cincinnati stepped up to the doctor.

"Say, doctor--listen to me. Am I to give that man five dollars and a half for this?"

The doctor took the scarab in his hand and examined it.

"No, Miss Jocelyn," he said.

"Why not? I call that a dandy scarab. White amethyst. Genuine antique."

"It is not white amethyst and I know the man who made it--the day before yesterday. If you want it for a toy, ten piastres is an outside price. The man will take that."

"My!" exclaimed Miss Jocelyn. "Thank you vurry much," and she returned to her negotiations.

The three men passed through into the hall.

II

After dinner, Brookes and Dr Henson-Blake went off to see a friend at the Savoy. They left with grim half-chaffing injunctions to young Lake to take care of himself. Lake, a little sulky, settled himself in one corner of the hall to smoke a cigarette before his experiment.

And suddenly Miss Jocelyn, whom he did not know, came up to him.

She was a dark girl, pale-skinned and red-lipped. She had a little of that jaunty, almost slangy American air of being able to take care of herself. But she also carried the impression that this air was superficial, and underneath it there might be poetry of a rather volcanic order. She sat down quietly on the other side of the table, and said:

"Do you not know me, Mr Lake?"

Lake said that at any rate he was charmed to have the privilege of making her acquaintance.

"But," she went on, "I want you to behave just as if you had known me for some time. My Aunt Esmeralda is watching us from away back, and she's pretty 'cute. Don't smile too much. Offer me a cigarette or order some coffee for me, as if it were an ordinary thing that you had often done before for me. Don't look at me all the time--look away now and then. I'll tell you why I'm doing this directly."

Lake did his best to act the part, and to take things more simply. He was consumed with curiosity, and for that reason he said, as he lighted her cigarette, "It is so nice of you to do this--to take pity on my loneliness--that I feel the reason why does not matter at all. I am unquestioningly contented with things as they are."

"I just want to tell you. I know Dr Henson-Blake--we were on the tourist boat together. He's playing it low down on you. That tobacco he gave you is ordinary tobacco. He wants to make you say afterwards that you got a lot of funny sensations out of it, and then he'll say there was no hasheesh in it at all, and just laugh at you. You needn't ask me how I know, but it's the truth."

"I believe you. The possibility of it had occurred to me. Well, I have only to tell him that I got no sensations at all, and that's all over with this little joke."

"Yes," said Miss Jocelyn, "but you can get back on him. That's better."

"How?"

"Spin him a long story. Tell him you smoked it and it gave you visions. Then when he's finished with his laugh, give him his tobacco back again to prove that you knew his game all the time."

"Excellent." He took from his pocket a little box in which the tobacco was placed, put it in one of the hotel envelopes and sealed it and dated it. "But the triumph must be yours," he said.

She leaned forward seriously. "Listen to me. You don't want to mention my name--you don't even know it, but I'm Irene Jocelyn. I've put confidence in you. See, he's not got to know that I've had anything to do with it. You promise me that?"

"Certainly. But I'm puzzled. Why do you come along to save me from making myself ridiculous? It's very kind of you. I'm very glad you've done it. But why?"

She hesitated and blushed slightly. "For myself, perhaps."

It seemed promising; he was emboldened. "What a pity I have wasted my time by not meeting you before? Have you been long in Cairo?"

"A few days," she said absent-mindedly. "My!" she exclaimed. "If I don't go back to my Aunt Esmeralda right now, there's going to be a deal of trouble. I'll say good-night to you, Mr Lake."

He was rather staggered. "Good-night," he said. "But I hope this is not the last time--"

"It depends. Mind that when he's about you don't know me."

He watched her as she went up the hall. Her bright smile came off very easily. She looked a little tired and hunted.

That night he could come to no satisfactory explanation. He could only decide to do exactly as he had been told, and await events. In the meantime the girl's face haunted him, and always as it had been when she did not know that he could see her--always with that tired and hunted look. What had been her story? What was inside her heart and mind? What cards was she playing? Why had she spoken to him? The questions were endless. His interest in her, strangely powerful, kept him for long awake.

III

The little farce was played out with great success next morning. Lake told a beautiful story, and did it the better because Irene Jocelyn, breakfasting alone at the next table, was listening intently. After smoking the hasheesh he had heard the Sphinx talking. Then a black and limitless ocean had broken over it, and out of the ocean a strange white woman had crept and cut herself with a gold-handled knife.

"Good," said the doctor, with dry triumph. "And the more interesting because you have never had any hasheesh at all."

"No?" asked Lake. "I thought that would be it." He tossed the envelope across to the doctor. "You'll find your tobacco inside--how do you give it that green colour? I think the score is with me."

The doctor was angry, the more so because Brookes was undisguisedly amused at the failure. But he made one shrewd guess. "If I had mentioned the thing to a solitary soul I should have been certain that it had been given away to you. As it is, I can't see how you came to think of it for yourself. It's quite unlike you."

IV

For the next two days Irene Jocelyn successfully avoided young Lake, and thereby drove him to the verge of madness. It even occurred to him to play a bold stroke and ask the doctor to introduce him. But he had the reasonable conviction that that introduction would do him more harm than good with this strange girl. He grew to hate Henson-Blake; it was evident that while he was there Irene would not speak. He invented excuses to get him out of the way.

On the third day she came up to him in the hall with hand outstretched. "I just want to say good-bye to you, Mr Lake," she said. "We leave this afternoon."

"Won't you tell me anything before you go? I can find no reason why you should have interested yourself in my defence. Still less can I find any reason why you should have avoided me ever since?"

"But I wasn't interested in you. You're not--what do you say?--not on in this act. Didn't I tell you that I was doing it for myself?"

"Yes. You are clever--you found out the doctor's trick."

"I know him. I told you that I met him on the tourist boat. I knew what he would do."

"I am stupid--for I also knew him, and did not find out. I'm not vain enough, believe me, to suppose that you did this for love of me."

She laughed and snapped her fingers.

"I wish to God you had!" he added, and the tone and simplicity of the words carried conviction. She changed her manner. She became serious.

"What was done, not for love of you, was done for hate of somebody else! Can't you imagine a woman wanting to hit back, and too proud to let it be known that she wants to hit at all? Can't you imagine her hungering and thirsting to see a certain man fail, if only in some little thing, just for once? Can't you--Oh, you don't want the whole humiliating story, do you?"

"No, no. I'm sorry. Good-bye."

"Good-bye."

"Only you know--that is not for hate of a man. If you hated, there might be a chance for those who loved."

She shook her head and turned away. A minute later he heard her laughing, and talking her best American to a group of hotel acquaintances.

And this is perhaps the primary reason why Percival Lake did ultimately take to hasheesh in sober earnest. His friends have ceased to speak of him. Dr Henson-Blake is interested in the case.

THE GARDENER

Seven years to-day have I been in this place, and I am beginning to ask myself whether it is not time that I made a move. When I come to think of it, in my last place I had ten under me, and here it's but three men and a boy, and I always have said and always shall say that a boy is worse than nothing. In some ways I might be sorry to leave. There is work which I have begun here, and which I should be sorry to see pass into other hands to be made a muddle of. Still, as my father used to say, if you don't respect yourself, nobody is going to respect you, and I'm in two minds whether I ought to put up with such language as I had to-day.

"It's all damned carelessness," he said. "You know how particular I am about those Blenheims, and I'd sooner have lost anything in the garden. It isn't because you can't do it. I've always been proud of my melons before. It's just because you've got careless and don't care a curse how much you neglect your work. Most men would have given you the sack at once, and you shall have it from me if ever I find anything of this kind again."

That's what he said. And in one way it's all true enough. That lot of melons should have been shut up at the right time, and I've lost 'em in consequence. But it's the first time I've lost anything like that all the years I've been here, and I don't know that I feel inclined to put up with it. Here am I, a single man of good character. There may be some as can teach me a little about my business, and I'm always willing to learn; but I've never found 'em yet. I can show as good testimonials as anybody, and I'm not likely to be long out of a berth. Even if I was, it wouldn't much matter; for, not being a fool, like Townes, I haven't got a wife and six children to keep, and I've been able to put by money.

One of those Townes children walked back with me as I came from my work to-day. It was the one they call Hilda. She's a pretty enough child, but nothing like what Townes thinks. The way that man talks about them, as if they were a set of angels, makes me laugh. Thank God, I've none of my own to make a fool of myself about. It's lucky for Townes, too, that I'm not a married man, for otherwise I should have had the lodge and he wouldn't, and the lodge is a lot better than anything he could afford out of his wages.

* * * * *

About half-past eight to-night Townes came round to the cottage to see me, and pulled out a rabbit from under his coat.

"I don't know whether you'd care about anything in this way, Mr Adam," he said. "It's a nice fat young rabbit."

"Where did you get that, Townes?" I said.

He gave a sheepish kind of grin. "Well," he said, "there's plenty of them about, aren't there? I count they're more a pest than anything else. Anyway, one rabbit more or less won't matter to 'em up at the House. It's not as if rabbits were game."

"I don't know nothing about that, Townes, and I don't care nothing, either. I won't have it. As you've got it, you'd better take it back to your wife; and if I find you getting any more, you'll get the sack as sure as my name's Stephen Adam."

"All right, Mr Adam," he said. "That shall be as you say, of course. I thought perhaps, rabbits not coming into your province, you wouldn't mind. Then I wanted to call round too, to say how much obliged I am to you."

"What for?" I said.

"About those melons. There was a holy row about it, wasn't there? I don't deny it. You told me yourself to shut those lights, and I said I would. How I came to miss it I can't think. Something or other must have got into my head."

"It's a pity, Townes, that a bit of sense don't get into your head sometimes."

"Well, there it was, anyhow. We heard the governor laying into you about it, and not a word did you say about it's being anybody's fault but your own. Of course the governor thinks a lot of you, and he'd put up with a thing in you which he'd give me the sack for right off. Still, I do take it as being very kind--"

"You can hold your tongue, Townes. I've got no kindness for such as you--wasting hours of skilled work by your damned wool-gathering forgetfulness."

"The fact of the case is that I'd got that child Hilda a bit on my mind at the time. The missus thought she was sickening for the measles."

"Well, she wasn't. What would it have mattered if she had been? All children have the measles, don't they? Do you think yours have got to be so blessed superior? That's no excuse at all. As for the kindness, it was simply justice. If I choose to give an order to an idiot, then it's only fair that I should suffer for it."

"I don't know that I've forgotten much before, Mr Adam."

"No, my boy, you haven't. And you'd better not forget much again if you want to keep your place. Just you let it be a lesson to you. And if you must be the father of six squalling brats, keep 'em out of your mind during work-hours. The truth is, Townes, that you think too much of those children of yours. I'm sure I don't know what they'll come to. You'll spoil 'em. Your own wife told me only the other day that you spoilt 'em."

Townes gave that stupid grin of his again. "Anyhow," he said, "I don't go buying chocolates for 'em in the village."

"Well," I said, "you can get about your business. I want to read my paper, and I'm not one of those that sit up half the night."

I wonder if Hilda told him about those sweets, or if he found her eating them and then guessed. It was a fool of a thing for me to do, and I shan't do it again. That's the way you lose your authority over the men under you, by being a bit too familiar, and then of course they shirk their work and you get blamed for it.

The governor was pretty civil to-day, and after all, I don't know as I want to change at my time of life. There's a lot of half-finished work about the place still and some of it'll take a long time to get exactly to my liking.

* * * * *

I can't make things out. We did a lot better than we expected at the Horticultural, and the governor behaved handsomely by me, as he always does. But he's not as cheerful as usual. I see him wandering about the garden by himself, just as if he'd got something on his mind. He's sold his hunters, and I want to know what for. It's given out that he finds he's getting too old for it. Looks to me more like something in the cutting-down way. I had a word with the cook up at the House, and she's of the same way of thinking. It's not only the hunters. She says there's less ordered and less entertaining done, and one of the maids has been turned off. If he's lost money, I wonder how he's lost it. It's not betting or gambling, for he was never that sort. I should say it was some investment gone wrong. I'm glad I took my father's advice there and put my savings into Consols. It may not bring in much, but the money is always there. The fact of the case is that these gentlefolk never ought to touch business at all. There are plenty of solicitors and such to look after it for them. A gentleman isn't meant to do anything except amuse himself, and when he interferes with other things he is going out of his station in life and acting foolishly. This is particularly the case when a gentleman tries to talk as if he knew anything about gardening. I was looking round the place to-day, and I should be sorry to leave it--in fact, I doubt if I should be able to make myself comfortable anywhere else. Three weeks ago, when there was that row about the melons, I did think of going. But that was a fit of temper, and with me a fit of temper's soon over. I believe I'd sooner work for half the wages than go. And if the governor says anything to me about cutting down, I don't know as I shan't hint at something of the kind. He's cut down in the stable and in the house, and it won't surprise me if the garden has the next turn. I may be wrong. He's always very keen about his garden, and I fancy he'd as soon spend money on that as anything.

Had to give that fool Townes a bit of the rough side of my tongue. I found one of his children, the one they call Hilda, up on Sunley Hill, and they've got measles in those cottages there, as he well knows. Of course he had to make his excuse. He couldn't always be looking after them, and there were such a lot of them, and he knew his missus was hard at it all day. That last part's true. I had to promise that child Hilda something if she wouldn't go Sunley Hill way any more, but it's all against my better judgment. What I ought to have done was to have given her a good dressing-down and frightened her a bit. Seems a queer thing that a man who knows how to handle men and keep them in their place shouldn't know how to treat a child. All I can say is that it's the last time I shall make that mistake. Otherwise I don't know that I can say much against Townes. He's at his work smart and early every morning, which is what I like; and he doesn't loiter about. I hate a man who stands like a statue, with one foot on his spade, when he thinks nobody is looking at him. What's more, he takes a real interest in his work. He's not an educated man, as I am, and he's never had my advantages, but I will say for him that he's as willing to learn as anybody can want. In fact, I sometimes wonder if I'm not spoiling my own game by teaching him a bit too much. I must be on the lookout about that.

* * * * *

It's just exactly what I thought. One of Townes' kids has got the measles. It's the one they call Hilda; and that's a very stupid name, to my mind, to give to the daughter of a working gardener. Of course Townes is about half off his head, and that's a bad thing, for he never had too much sense at any time. I told him yesterday, as I've told him before, that all children have measles, and the sooner they have 'em the sooner it's over, and the better it is every way. Then he says the child's rare bad, and the doctor wouldn't come twice a day if he didn't think so. As I told him, the doctor comes twice a day to make his bill a bit bigger. I suppose doctors are on the make, same as gardeners and everybody else. Why wasn't Townes in any club? He says he shall be now. He's always shutting the stable door after he's lost the horse. That's the way things happen. I've been in a club for years, and never had any occasion for a doctor at all. I looked in at the lodge yesterday to give Hilda what I had promised, having first of all found out that she had kept her word and had not been up to Sunley Hill again. Otherwise I shouldn't have gone in. As it was, it was of no use, as she was too bad to eat what I'd brought, and was a bit light-headed. She didn't seem to recognise me; and, queerly enough, that was almost a kind of disappointment. I felt quite angry with the child. As she couldn't take what I'd promised, and I found there were one or two other little things that were wanted, I got them instead. I believe in acting fairly by everybody, even if it's only one of Townes' brats. I went in again to-day, and this time she knew me. That speaks for itself, and shows that she must be getting better. I've had the measles myself or I wouldn't have taken the risk.

Had to complain to Townes to-day about his half starving himself. He said that he'd had a good deal of expense lately, and money was a bit short, and he had to save where he could. I told him, as I've told him twenty times, not to act like a fool. If a man doesn't eat, he can't work. If a man is paid to work, and doesn't work, he's swindling his boss. As I'm here to see, amongst other things, that Townes doesn't swindle the governor, I had to make some sort of an arrangement with him. I've told him we'll settle about the interest later. Strictly speaking, I ought to make it pretty stiff, for Townes isn't Consols by a long way. Now I'll go off for a stroll and my evening pipe. Possibly I may look in at the lodge. In that case I think I'll leave the pipe till afterwards, as the child may not like it.

* * * * *

That brat of Townes' is better--ever so much better. In another week she'll be about, all over the place, and worrying the life out of me, same as usual. I did get a little peace and quietness when she was ill. Townes, of course, is as pleased as Punch, but I very soon knocked that out of him. I asked him how he thought he was going to support his children when they were a bit bigger on the wages that he got. I told him he was fit to be a head-gardener now, and asked him if he was content to be second all his life. He said, as things were at present, he didn't like to chuck a sure thing for what was only a chance. He's got no more enterprise than a dead dog. That's the curse of children. They hang round you like a dead weight, and you never get on at all. Thank Heaven, I've none of my own.

* * * * *

I will say this for myself, that I can generally foresee what's going to happen. I'm not one of those that has to look at a newspaper to know what the weather's going to be. It was the stables first, and then it was the house, and I said at the time it would be the garden next. The governor came along to me this morning with a sort of melancholy smile on his face, and talked to me just as openly and frankly as if I'd been a gentleman like himself.

"Adam," he said, "I've lost a lot of money lately. Been swindled out of it. I daresay you heard?"

"I'd heard nothing definite, sir. I'm sure I'm very sorry to hear it now."

"Well," he said, "what I came to tell you is that you'll have to get along with one man less in the garden. I think Green will be the one to go."

"Well, sir," I said, "I don't know if I might venture on a suggestion."

"What is it?"

"I was going to say that Green's wages don't amount to very much in the year, not as compared with mine. If I might suggest, I think you might do a lot worse than to let me go and make Townes the head man here, with, say, a small rise. That'd save a lot of money, and I know you'd find Townes satisfactory."

"Does he know enough about it?"

"To speak plainly, by this time he knows as much about it as I do. He's one of the cleverest and smartest men I ever had under me, and he's a beggar to work as well. He's never done one single thing wrong since he's been here."

"What about yourself, Adam? I thought you were attached to the place. I didn't think you'd ever want to leave my service."

"No, sir, I've been very well suited here. But then, you see, it all fits in. I could take a rather bigger place. Before I came here I'd ten men under me. And I should feel quite comfortable if Townes was taking on the work, for he knows how things ought to be done."

So it's all settled. Townes has got a grin on him that would reach from here to London, and would keep on thanking me all day if I didn't tell him to shut his head and get on with his work. I may be leaving, but so long as I am here I'll see proper order kept.

That kid of his, the one they call Hilda, isn't pleased at all. She says that if I go she'll come with me.

I wish to God she would.

THE SCENT

There was no one but myself in the smaller of the two smoking-rooms when he entered. I had picked up an evening paper, and was boring myself with it for a few minutes in front of the fire, before going on to bore myself somewhere else. He walked rapidly to the fireplace and rang the bell, and then turned abruptly to me.

"Hullo! How are you! Didn't know you were here." Then he caught sight of the evening paper in my hands and asked me for God's sake to put that thing down. I put it down and asked him what was the matter. He was very pale and had just the appearance of a man whose nerves were suffering from over-strain.

"I must tell you," he said abruptly. "I'm glad I found you. It's the most perfectly--"

He stopped there because the waiter who answered the bell had just entered. He ordered some brandy and resumed again.

"You will laugh your head off by the time I have finished my story, ghastly though it is. You won't believe a word of it. See here."

He picked up the paper which I had thrown down, opened it rapidly, and handed it to me with his finger on one particular paragraph. The paragraph referred to an inquest on a somewhat commonplace suicide in Soho. The suicide, an Italian judging by his name, had flung himself from a window on the first floor, and had broken his neck on the pavement. Evidence was given by those who knew him that he had been very queer in his manners of late, and the usual verdict had been returned.

"Well?" I said.

"It's God's mercy that I wasn't a witness at that inquest."

"What does it matter?" I replied. "I suppose you saw the accident. You are required to go and say that; it doesn't hurt you. Nobody thinks any the worse of you. It may be a little tiresome, but there is nothing to bring you to this condition, even if you had really given evidence, which it seems you haven't."

The waiter brought the brandy. He drank it, ordered another, and continued more quietly.

"I am afraid I have let the thing prey on my mind a little. I confess that I have had a shock. The story is not at all what you imagine. I did not witness the accident; it was only within the last two hours that I heard of it, but I know how it was that it happened."

He paused. I selected another cigar, lit it, and said nothing. He continued:

"You know me well enough to know my interest in anything which is a little out of the way. I will even run some slight risk to meet and talk with a man who is not as other men are, or, better still, a woman who is not as other women are. I have a fancy for human curiosities; I should like to take a museum and collect them."

"Yes," I said, "I know that. You will get yourself into trouble one of these days."

He went on speaking.

"About a week ago I went down Wardour Street and saw an Italian looking in at a shop window. I did not know that he was an Italian at the time. The national characteristics were not very strongly marked in him. He was quite well dressed, rather like a well-to-do young City man. His head was abnormal. The breadth from the end of the eyebrow to the ear was enormous. His eyes were not of the same colour; his skin was like parchment; he continually moved the tip of his nose. His nostrils opened and shut. He looked to me to be a very queer beast indeed, and I meant to talk to him.

"After a while he went into a restaurant. I waited ten minutes and then went in after him. I sat down at the same table, and, by way of opening a conversation, knocked over his glass of claret, breaking the glass. Then, of course, I apologised and ordered a waiter to replace it. He at once countermanded the order, and turned to me, saying in excellent English, 'Pray do not trouble. I had quite finished with it.'

"'But,' I said, 'you must let me. Your glass was untouched.'

"'Yes,' he said, 'but I never drink it.'

"I looked amazed. 'I could explain,' he added, 'but it is a little difficult to understand, and it would bore you.'

"'The only things that I care about,' I replied, 'are the things which are not ordinary, and are a little difficult to understand. Unless you are a dipsomaniac, triumphing over temptation, I fail to see why you should order wine which you have no intention of drinking.'

"'Your explanation is wrong,' he replied. 'I ordered the claret because I wanted to smell it.'

"As he seemed to find that conclusive, I observed that even that did not clear the thing up.

"'You must know,' he said a little impatiently, 'that with some people the scents of different objects have curious results. The possibilities implied in the sense of smell are enormous. In most people they are undeveloped; in very few are they at all understood. The connection between a scent and a memory has been noticed. I have seen a woman who smelt wallflowers for the first time for ten years burst into tears. The scent of eau de Cologne is supposed to be refreshing, and that of ammonia to be vivifying, and that of ether sickening. No scent possesses the very curious attraction for a human being that valerian does for the lower animals.'

"'The whole art of obtaining a new sensation by the use of scents is absolutely unknown to most people. Most women divide scents vaguely into opaque and transparent; most virtuous women prefer the transparent. But that is really as far as they have gone. As for the effect of those scents which are not pleasant to anybody, and therefore are generally called by an unpleasant name, there seems to be no knowledge at all.'

"'I knew a case,' I said, 'of a gardener who had to work in a hothouse filled with lilies-of-the-valley. He fainted away.'

"My Italian friend took up the story.

"'And when he recovered consciousness he was angry and entreated to be put back again?'

"'Yes,' I said, 'but how did you know it?'

"'Because I know the effect of different scents.'

"I was more fascinated than ever, and made him talk for a long time. Several times he seemed to be hesitating whether or not to tell me something, and I urged him on. It came at last. He had got a secret. He had invented a scent and was assured of the marvellous power of it, but not of the whole of its effects, afterwards or immediate. These he was investigating. 'And,' he added impressively, 'it gives one an entirely new way of living.'

"'I wish,' I said, 'that you were a poor man wanting money with which to carry on your experiments. If I offered to finance you perhaps you would let me witness some of them. I love nothing better than to see something new.'

"'I do not want any money,' he answered laughing. 'My workshop is near here, and I will show it to you if you care to take the risk of coming.'

"'I will come,' I replied, 'with pleasure.'

"And we both walked out together. He took me up a side-street, and then up a precipitous staircase to the first floor of a dingy-looking house. He had three large rooms there, opening into one another. He made me wait in the first, which was somewhat poorly furnished as a library, and he went through into the others. After about ten minutes he came back and fetched me through the second room, where a lot of things were cooking over tiny little spirit lamps, and into the third. The third was furnished as the first, but it was much more luxurious. He opened a corner cupboard and took down an ordinary glass stopper bottle, unlabelled and containing a colourless liquid.

"'That is it,' he said smiling; 'that is what makes all things new.'

"Of course by this time I knew he was cracked, but I asked him how.

"'After frequent inhalations of this scent,' he said, 'one loses all sense of limitations or conditions. One believes that one can walk straight through a brick wall, or fly in the air, or live in the year one, or in the year two million, or in any intervening year. One is sure that he can do anything which it occurs to him that he would like to do. One has a feeling of complete omnipotence, and that means a feeling of complete happiness. No one conscious of a limitation can be completely happy. At present the effects are very transient, but I may be able to improve upon that.'

"'One moment,' I said. 'This scent does not really remove limitations and conditions.'

"'Subjectively, yes, objectively, no; but that matters little. Nothing can be unreal to us at the time that we fully believe it to be real. It is because the effects are illusive that I now refrain from experimenting with myself unless there is someone in the room with me. It is a hard struggle to keep off it. Frankly, I was very glad when you suggested that you should come here. Now, watch me.'

"He removed the stopper, and for perhaps two minutes continued to inhale the perfume. Then he put the stopper back again in the bottle and set it down on the table by his side. He did not change in appearance in the least. Half-jokingly I asked him if he could now write stories like Mr Rudyard Kipling.

"'Better,' he said, 'infinitely better. They are nothing. I will show you one very short thing.'

"He took paper, pen and ink, and covered one sheet with feverish haste. Then he handed it to me with an air of triumph. It was absolute nonsense from beginning to end, and absolutely incoherent. There were phrases in it which we had used in our conversation, phrases which he might have seen in advertisements on hoardings, two or three lines of a song which is very popular just now, the whole strung together anyhow. I looked over it.

"'Capital,' I said; 'and can you fly?'

"'Of course.' He got up and opened the window. I let him climb up on the ledge, where a nervous man would certainly have fallen. I saved him only just in time, and he was angry with me. As I told him unfortunately I was not able to fly and wished for his company, he sat down and talked rubbish about the things which he said he could do for about five minutes. Then he stretched himself and yawned.

"'It has passed off now,' he said. I had a long argument with him, but it was of no use. He would not give up the bottle and he would not promise to leave it alone in the future, and he would not tell me what he called it. To irritate him I said that the whole thing was a fraud from beginning to end; the bottle contained water, and nothing else. I picked it up, took a long sniff at it, and went out.

"In the street a moment later I called a cabman and told him to drive to Downing Street. I wanted to show Lord Salisbury the means of destroying any nation. I had the power of destroying any nation, and I wished to use it for the benefit of England. Long before the cab reached Downing Street I also stretched my arms and yawned, and knew that the effect had gone off. I drove back to my chambers.

"To-day I read of the suicide. He had tried to fly and he did it because I suggested it to him when he was in that state the other day. It was my fault, really."

* * * * *

He picked up his second glass of brandy and began sipping it. He talked it over for a long time, but he would not contradict himself or be shaken in any way.

It is at any rate perfectly true that at the sale of the suicide's property he made some large purchases. I found that out afterwards from the auctioneer.

He is living abroad now.

A SELECTION OF BOOKS PUBLISHED BY METHUEN AND COMPANY LIMITED
36 ESSEX STREET LONDON W.C.

CONTENTS

PAGE
General Literature 1
Ancient Cities 15
Antiquary's Books 15
Arden Shakespeare 15
Classics of Art 16
"Complete" Series 16
Connoisseur's Library 16
Handbooks of English Church History 17
Illustrated Pocket Library of Plain and Coloured Books 17
Leaders of Religion 18
Library of Devotion 18
Little Books on Art 19
Little Galleries 19
Little Guides 19
Little Library 20
Little Quarto Shakespeare 21
Miniature Library 21
New Library of Medicine 21
New Library of Music 22
Oxford Biographies 22
Romantic History 22
Handbooks of Theology 22
Westminster Commentaries 23
Fiction 23
Books for Boys and Girls 28
Novels of Alexandre Dumas 29
Methuen's Sixpenny Books 29

A SELECTION OF MESSRS. METHUEN'S PUBLICATIONS

In this Catalogue the order is according to authors. An asterisk denotes that the book is in the press.

Colonial Editions are published of all Messrs. METHUEN's Novels issued at a price above 2_s._ 6_d._, and similar editions are published of some works of General Literature. Colonial editions are only for circulation in the British Colonies and India.

All books marked net are not subject to discount, and cannot be bought at less than the published price. Books not marked net are subject to the discount which the bookseller allows.

Messrs. METHUEN's books are kept in stock by all good booksellers. If there is any difficulty in seeing copies, Messrs. Methuen will be very glad to have early information, and specimen copies of any books will be sent on receipt of the published price _plus_ postage for net books, and of the published price for ordinary books.

This Catalogue contains only a selection of the more important books published by Messrs. Methuen. A complete and illustrated catalogue of their publications may be obtained on application.

=Addleshaw (Percy).=

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. Illustrated. _Second Edition. Demy 8vo.
10s. 6d. net._

=Adeney (W. F.)=, M.A.

See Bennett (W.H.).

=Ady (Cecilla M.).=

A HISTORY OF MILAN UNDER THE SFORZA. Illustrated. _Demy 8vo.
10s. 6d. net._

=Aldis (Janet).=

THE QUEEN OF LETTER WRITERS, MARQUISE DE SEVIGNE, DAME DE BOURBILLY,
1626-96. Illustrated. _Second Edition. Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net._

=Allen (M.).=

A HISTORY OF VERONA. Illustrated. _Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net._

=Amherst (Lady).=

A SKETCH OF EGYPTIAN HISTORY FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE PRESENT
DAY. Illustrated. _A New and Cheaper Issue. Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._

=Andrewes (Amy G.)=

THE STORY OF BAYARD. Edited by A. G. ANDREWES, _Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d._

=Andrewes (Bishop).=

PRECES PRIVATAE. Translated and edited, with Notes, by F. E.
BRIGHTMAN, M.A., of Pusey House, Oxford. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._

=Anon.=

THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK. Prose and Verse. Compiled from _The
Saturday Westminster Gazette_ Competitions, 1904-1907. _Cr. 8vo.
3s. 6d. net._

VENICE AND HER TREASURES. Illustrated. _Round corners. Fcap. 8vo.
5s. net._

=Aristotle.=

THE ETHICS OF. Edited, with an Introduction and Notes, by JOHN
BURNET, M.A. _Cheaper issue. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net._

=Atkinson (C. T.)=, M.A., Fellow of Exeter College, Oxford, sometime Demy of Magdalen College.

A HISTORY OF GERMANY, from 1715-1815. Illustrated. _Demy 8vo.
12s. 6d. net._

=Atkinson (T. D.).=

ENGLISH ARCHITECTURE. Illustrated. _Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net._

A GLOSSARY OF TERMS USED IN ENGLISH ARCHITECTURE. Illustrated.
_Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net._

=Atteridge (A. H.).=

NAPOLEON'S BROTHERS. Illustrated. _Demy 8vo. 18s. net._

=Aves (Ernest).=

CO-OPERATIVE INDUSTRY. _Cr. 8vo. 5s. net._

=Bagot (Richard).=

THE LAKES OF NORTHERN ITALY. Illustrated. _Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net._

=Bain (R. Nisbet).=

THE LAST KING OF POLAND AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. Illustrated.
_Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net._

=Balfour (Graham).=

THE LIFE OF ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. Illustrated. _Fifth Edition in one
Volume. Cr. 8vo. Buckram, 6s._

=Baring (The Hon. Maurice).=

WITH THE RUSSIANS IN MANCHURIA. _Third Edition. Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d.
net._

A YEAR IN RUSSIA. _Second Edition. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net._

RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES. _Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 5s. net._

LANDMARKS IN RUSSIAN LITERATURE. _Cr. 8vo. 6s. net._

=Baring-Gould (S.).=

THE LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. Illustrated. _Second Edition.
Wide Royal 8vo. 10s. 6d. net._

THE TRAGEDY OF THE CAESARS: A STUDY OF THE CHARACTERS OF THE CAESARS
OF THE JULIAN AND CLAUDIAN HOUSES. Illustrated. _Seventh Edition.
Royal 8vo. 10s. 6d. net._

A BOOK OF FAIRY TALES. Illustrated. _Second Edition. Cr. 8vo.
Buckram. 6s._ Also _Medium 8vo. 6d._

OLD ENGLISH FAIRY TALES. Illustrated. _Third Edition. Cr. 8vo.
Buckram. 6s._

THE VICAR OF MORWENSTOW. Revised Edition. With a Portrait. _Third
Edition. Cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d._

OLD COUNTRY LIFE. Illustrated. _Fifth Edition. Large Cr. 8vo. 6s._

A GARLAND OF COUNTRY SONG: English Folk Songs with their Traditional
Melodies. Collected and arranged by S. BARING-GOULD and H. F.
SHEPPARD. _Demy 4to. 6s._

SONGS OF THE WEST: Folk Songs of Devon and Cornwall. Collected from
the Mouths of the People. By S. BARING-GOULD, M.A., and H. FLEETWOOD
SHEPPARD, M.A. New and Revised Edition, under the musical editorship
of CECIL J. SHARP. _Large Imperial 8vo. 5s. net._

STRANGE SURVIVALS: SOME CHAPTERS IN THE HISTORY OF MAN. Illustrated.
_Third Edition. Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net._

YORKSHIRE ODDITIES: INCIDENTS AND STRANGE EVENTS. _Fifth Edition.
Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net._

A BOOK OF CORNWALL. Illustrated. _Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s._

A BOOK OF DARTMOOR. Illustrated. _Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s._

A BOOK OF DEVON. Illustrated. _Third Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s._

A BOOK OF NORTH WALES. Illustrated. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._

A BOOK OF SOUTH WALES. Illustrated. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._

A BOOK OF BRITTANY. Illustrated. _Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s._

A BOOK OF THE RHINE: From Cleve to Mainz. Illustrated. _Second
Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s._

A BOOK OF THE RIVIERA. Illustrated. _Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s._

A BOOK OF THE PYRENEES. Illustrated. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._

=Barker (E.)=, M.A., (Late) Fellow of Merton College, Oxford.

THE POLITICAL THOUGHT OF PLATO AND ARISTOTLE. _Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d.
net._

=Baron (R. R. N.)=, M.A.

FRENCH PROSE COMPOSITION. _Fourth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d.
Key, 3s. net._

=Bartholomew (J. G.)=, F.R.S.E.

See Robertson (C. G.).

=Bastable (C. F.)=, LL.D.

THE COMMERCE OF NATIONS. _Fourth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d._

=Bastian (H. Charlton)=, M.A., M.D., F.R.S.

THE EVOLUTION OF LIFE. Illustrated. _Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._

=Batson (Mrs. Stephen).=

A CONCISE HANDBOOK OF GARDEN FLOWERS. _Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net._

THE SUMMER GARDEN OF PLEASURE. Illustrated. _Wide Demy 8vo. 15s. net._

=Beckett (Arthur).=

THE SPIRIT OF THE DOWNS: Impressions and Reminiscences of the Sussex
Downs. Illustrated. _Second Edition. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net._

=Beckford (Peter).=

THOUGHTS ON HUNTING. Edited by J. OTHO PAGET. Illustrated. _Second
Edition. Demy 8vo. 6s._

=Begbie (Harold).=

MASTER WORKERS. Illustrated. _Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._

=Behmen (Jacob).=

DIALOGUES ON THE SUPERSENSUAL LIFE. Edited by BERNARD HOLLAND. _Fcap.
8vo. 3s. 6d._

=Bell (Mrs. Arthur G.).=

THE SKIRTS OF THE GREAT CITY. Illustrated. _Second Edition. Cr. 8vo.
6s._

=Belloc (H.)=, M.P.

PARIS. Illustrated. _Second Edition, Revised. Cr. 8vo. 6s._

HILLS AND THE SEA. _Third Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 5s._

ON NOTHING AND KINDRED SUBJECTS. _Third Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 5s._

ON EVERYTHING. _Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 5s._

MARIE ANTOINETTE. Illustrated. _Third Edition. Demy 8vo. 15s. net._

THE PYRENEES. Illustrated. _Second Edition. Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._

=Bellot (H. H. L.)=, M.A.

See Jones (L. A. A.).

=Bennett (Joseph).=

FORTY YEARS OF MUSIC, 1865-1905. Illustrated. _Demy 8vo. 16s. net._

=Bennett (W. H.)=, M.A.

A PRIMER OF THE BIBLE. _Fifth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d._

=Bennett (W. H.)= and =Adeney, (W. F.)=.

A BIBLICAL INTRODUCTION. With a concise Bibliography. _Fifth Edition.
Cr. 8vo. 7s. 6d._

=Benson (Archbishop).=

GOD'S BOARD. Communion Addresses. _Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo.
3s. 6d. net._

=Benson (R. M.).=

THE WAY OF HOLINESS. An Exposition of Psalm cxix. Analytical and
Devotional. _Cr. 8vo. 5s._

*=Bensusan (Samuel L.).=

HOME LIFE IN SPAIN. Illustrated. _Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net._

=Berry (W. Grinton)=, M.A.

FRANCE SINCE WATERLOO. Illustrated. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._

=Betham-Edwards (Miss).=

HOME LIFE IN FRANCE. Illustrated. _Fifth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s._

=Bindley (T. Herbert)=, B.D.

THE OECUMENICAL DOCUMENTS OF THE FAITH. With Introductions and Notes.
_Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s. net._

=Binyon (Laurence).=

See Blake (William).

=Blake (William).=

ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE BOOK OF JOB. With General Introduction by
LAURENCE BINYON. Illustrated. _Quarto. 21s. net._

=Body (George)=, D.D.

THE SOUL'S PILGRIMAGE: Devotional Readings from the Published and
Unpublished writings of George Body, D.D. Selected and arranged
by J. H. BURN, D.D., F.R.S.E. _Demy 16mo. 2s. 6d._

=Boulting (W.).=

TASSO AND HIS TIMES. Illustrated. _Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net._

=Bovill (W. B. Forster).=

HUNGARY AND THE HUNGARIANS. Illustrated. _Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._

=Bowden (E. M.).=

THE IMITATION OF BUDDHA: Being Quotations from Buddhist Literature for
each Day in the Year. _Fifth Edition. Cr. 16mo. 2s. 6d._

=Brabant (F. G.)=, M.A.

RAMBLES IN SUSSEX. Illustrated. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._

=Bradley (A. G.).=

ROUND ABOUT WILTSHIRE. Illustrated. _Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s._

THE ROMANCE OF NORTHUMBERLAND. Illustrated. _Second Edition. Demy 8vo.
7s. 6d. net._

=Braid (James)=, Open Champion, 1901, 1905 and 1906.

ADVANCED GOLF. Illustrated. _Fifth Edition. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net._

=Braid (James) and Others.=

GREAT GOLFERS IN THE MAKING. Edited by HENRY LEACH. Illustrated.
_Second Edition. Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._

=Brailsford (H. N.).=

MACEDONIA: ITS RACES AND THEIR FUTURE. Illustrated. _Demy 8vo.
12s. 6d. net._

=Brodrick (Mary)= and =Morton (A. Anderson)=.

A CONCISE DICTIONARY OF EGYPTIAN ARCHAEOLOGY. A Handbook for Students
and Travellers. Illustrated. _Cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d._

=Brown (J. Wood)=, M.A.

THE BUILDERS OF FLORENCE. Illustrated. _Demy 4to. 18s. net._

=Browning (Robert).=

PARACELSUS. Edited with Introduction, Notes, and Bibliography by
MARGARET L. LEE and KATHARINE B. LOCOCK. _Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net._

=Buckton (A. M.).=

EAGER HEART: A Mystery Play. _Eighth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 1s. net._

=Budge (E. A. Wallis).=

THE GODS OF THE EGYPTIANS. Illustrated. _Two Volumes. Royal 8vo.
L3 3s. net._

=Bull (Paul)=, Army Chaplain.

GOD AND OUR SOLDIERS. _Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s._

=Bulley (Miss).=

See Dilke (Lady).

=Burns (Robert).=

THE POEMS. Edited by ANDREW LANG and W. A. CRAIGIE. With Portrait.
_Third Edition. Wide Demy 8vo, gilt top. 6s._

=Bussell (F. W.)=, D.D.

CHRISTIAN THEOLOGY AND SOCIAL PROGRESS (The Bampton Lectures of 1905).
_Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net._

=Butler (Sir William)=, Lieut.-General, G.C.B.

THE LIGHT OF THE WEST. With some other Wayside Thoughts, 1865-1908.
_Cr. 8vo. 5s. net._

=Butlin (F. M.).=

AMONG THE DANES. Illustrated. _Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._

=Cain (Georges)=, Curator of the Carnavalet Museum, Paris.

WALKS IN PARIS. Translated by A. R. ALLINSON, M.A. Illustrated.
_Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._

=Cameron (Mary Lovett).=

OLD ETRURIA AND MODERN TUSCANY. Illustrated. _Second Edition.
Cr. 8vo. 6s. net._

=Carden (Robert W.).=

THE CITY OF GENOA. Illustrated. _Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net._

=Carlyle (Thomas).=

THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. Edited by C. R. L. FLETCHER, Fellow of Magdalen
College, Oxford. _Three Volumes. Cr. 8vo. 18s._

THE LETTERS AND SPEECHES OF OLIVER CROMWELL. With an Introduction by
C. H. FIRTH, M.A., and Notes and Appendices by Mrs. S. C. LOMAS.
_Three Volumes. Demy 8vo. 18s. net._

=Celano (Brother Thomas of).=

THE LIVES OF FRANCIS OF ASSISI. Translated by A. G. FERRERS HOWELL.
Illustrated. _Cr. 8vo. 5s. net._

=Chambers (Mrs. Lambert).=

Lawn Tennis for Ladies. Illustrated. _Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. net._

=Chandler (Arthur)=, Bishop of Bloemfontein.

ARA COELI: AN ESSAY IN MYSTICAL THEOLOGY. _Third Edition. Cr. 8vo.
3s. 6d. net._

=Chesterfield (Lord).=

THE LETTERS OF THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD TO HIS SON. Edited, with an
Introduction by C. STRACHEY, with Notes by A. CALTHROP. _Two
Volumes. Cr. 8vo. 12s._

=Chesterton (G. K.).=

CHARLES DICKENS. With two Portraits in Photogravure. _Sixth Edition.
Cr. 8vo. 6s._

ALL THINGS CONSIDERED. _Sixth Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 5s._

TREMENDOUS TRIFLES. _Fourth Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 5s._

=Clausen (George),= A.R.A., R.W.S.

SIX LECTURES ON PAINTING. Illustrated. _Third Edition. Large Post.
8vo. 3s. 6d. net._

AIMS AND IDEALS IN ART. Eight Lectures delivered to the Students of
the Royal Academy of Arts. Illustrated. _Second Edition. Large Post
8vo. 5s. net._

=Clutton-Brock (A.)=

SHELLEY: THE MAN AND THE POET. Illustrated. _Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._

=Cobb (W. F.)=, M.A.

THE BOOK OF PSALMS: with an Introduction and Notes. _Demy 8vo.
10s. 6d. net._

=Cockshott (Winifred)=, St. Hilda's Hall, Oxford.

THE PILGRIM FATHERS, THEIR CHURCH AND COLONY. Illustrated.
_Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._

=Collingwood (W. G.)=, M.A.

THE LIFE OF JOHN RUSKIN. With Portrait. _Sixth Edition. Cr. 8vo.
2s. 6d. net._

=Colvill (Helen H.).=

ST. TERESA OF SPAIN. Illustrated. _Second Edition. Demy 8vo.
7s. 6d. net._

*=Condamine (Robert de la).=

THE UPPER GARDEN. _Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net._

=Conrad (Joseph).=

THE MIRROR OF THE SEA: Memories and Impressions. _Third Edition.
Cr. 8vo. 6s._

=Coolidge (W. A. B.)=, M.A.

THE ALPS. Illustrated. _Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._

=Cooper (C. S.)=, F.R.H.S.

See Westell (W. P.)

=Coulton (G. G.).=

CHAUCER AND HIS ENGLAND. Illustrated. _Second Edition. Demy 8vo.
10s. 6d. net._

=Cowper (William).=

THE POEMS. Edited with an Introduction and Notes by J. C. BAILEY, M.A.
Illustrated. _Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net._

=Crane (Walter)=, R.W.S.

AN ARTIST'S REMINISCENCES. Illustrated. _Second Edition. Demy 8vo.
18s. net._

INDIA IMPRESSIONS. Illustrated. _Second Edition. Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d.
net._

=Crispe (T. E.).=

REMINISCENCES OF A K.C. With 2 Portraits. _Second Edition. Demy 8vo.
10s. 6d. net._

=Crowley (Ralph H.).=

THE HYGIENE OF SCHOOL LIFE. Illustrated. _Cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net._

=Dante (Alighieri).=

LA COMMEDIA DI DANTE. The Italian Text edited by PAGET TOYNBEE,
M.A., D.Litt. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._

=Davey (Richard).=

THE PAGEANT OF LONDON. Illustrated. _In Two Volumes. Demy 8vo. 15s.
net._

=Davis (H. W. C.)=, M.A., Fellow and Tutor of Balliol College.

ENGLAND UNDER THE NORMANS AND ANGEVINS: 1066-1272. Illustrated.
_Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net._

=Deans (R. Storry).=

THE TRIALS OF FIVE QUEENS: KATHARINE OF ARAGON, ANNE BOLEYN, MARY
QUEEN OF SCOTS, MARIE ANTOINETTE and CAROLINE OF BRUNSWICK.
Illustrated. _Second Edition. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net._

=Dearmer (Mabel).=

A CHILD'S LIFE OF CHRIST. Illustrated. _Large Cr. 8vo. 6s._

=D'Este (Margaret).=

IN THE CANARIES WITH A CAMERA. Illustrated. _Cr. 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._

=Dickinson (G. L.)=, M.A., Fellow of King's College, Cambridge.