Maraton glanced up. Selingman was leaning forward and his eyes were fixed steadily upon his friend.
"I was afraid, just a little afraid," he said slowly, "of the other woman. I am glad she didn"t count enough. Women are the very devil sometimes when they come between us and the right thing!"
CHAPTER x.x.xIII
Selingman came into the restaurant with a huge rose in his b.u.t.tonhole and another bunch of flowers--carnations this time--in his hands. He made his way to the little round table where Julia and Aaron were seated.
"For you, Miss Julia," he declared, depositing them by her side. "Pin them in the front of your frock. Drink wine to-night. Be gay. Let us see pink, also, in your cheeks. It is a great evening, this. Maraton is here?"
"Not yet," Julia answered, smiling.
Selingman sat down between them. He gave a lengthy order to a waiter; then he turned abruptly to Julia.
"He will keep to it, you think? This time you believe that he has made up his mind?"
"I do," she a.s.serted vigorously.
"What is he made of, that man?" Selingman continued, sipping the Vermouth which he had just ordered. "He makes love to you, eh? Ach!
never mind your brother. For a man like Maraton, what does it matter?
You are of the right stuff. You would be proud."
She looked steadily out of the restaurant.
"I have been a worker," she said, "in a clothing factory since I was old enough to stand up, and what little time I have had to spare, I have spent in study, in trying to fit myself for the fight against those things that you and I and all of us know of. There has been no opportunity," she went on, more slowly, "I have not allowed myself--"
"Ah, but it comes--it must come!" Selingman interrupted. "You have the instinct--I am sure of that. Use your power a little. It will be for his good. Every man who neglects his pa.s.sions, weakens. You have the gifts, Julia. I tell you that--I, Selingman, who know much about woman and more about love and life. You"ve felt it, too, yourself sometimes in the quiet hours. Haven"t you lain in your bed with your eyes wide open, and seen the ceiling roll away and the skies lean down, and felt the thoughts come stealing into your brain, till all of a sudden you found that your pulses were beating fast, and your heart was trembling, and there was a sort of faint music in your blood and in your ears? Ah, well, one knows! Suffer yourself to think of these hours when he is with you sometimes. Don"t make an ice maiden of yourself. You"ve done good work. I know all about you. You could do more splendid work still if you could weave that little spell which you and I know of."
"It is too late," she sighed, "too late now, he has become used to me. I am a machine--nothing more, to him. He does not even realise that I am a woman."
"What do you expect?" Aaron asked harshly. "Why should a man, with great things in his brain, waste a moment in thinking of women?"
Selingman"s under-lip shot out, a queer little way he had of showing his contempt.
"Little man," he told Aaron, "you are a fanatic. You do not understand.
It is a quarter past nine and I am hungry. . . . Ah!"
Maraton came in just then. He had the air of a man who has been through a crisis, but his eyes were bright as though with triumph. Selingman stood up and filled a gla.s.s with wine.
"The first rivet has been driven home," he cried. "I see it."
"It has indeed," Maraton answered. "For good or for evil, the railway strike is decided upon. There is civil war waging now, I can tell you,"
he added, as he sat down. "Graveling was there with a message. The whole of the Labour Party is against the strike. The leaders of the men are hot for it, and the men themselves. There wasn"t a single one of them who hesitated. Ernshaw, who represents the Union, told me that there wasn"t one of them who wouldn"t get the sack if he dared to waver.
They know what the Government did in Lancashire and they know what they tried to do at Sheffield. With the railway companies they"ll have even more influence."
"Let us dine," Selingman insisted, welcoming the approach of the waiters. "You see me, a man of forty-five, robust, the picture of health. How do I do it? In this manner. When I dine, all cares go to the winds. When I dine, I forget the hard places, I let my brain free of its burden. I talk nonsense I love best with a pretty woman. To-night we will talk with Miss Julia. You see, I have brought her more flowers.
She does not wear them, but they lie by her plate."
"I have never worn an ornament in my life," Julia told him, "and I don"t think that any one has ever given me flowers."
Selingman groaned.
"Oh, what pitiful words!" he exclaimed. "If there is one thing sadder in life than the slavery of the people, it is to find a woman who has forgotten her s.e.x. Almost you inspire me, young lady, with the desire to take you by the hand and offer you my escort into the gentler ways.
If I were sure of success, not even my fair friends on the other side of the Channel could keep me from your feet. Maraton, look away from the walls. There"s nothing beyond--just a world full of fancies. There"s some _Sole Otero_ on your plate which is worth tasting, and there"s champagne in your gla.s.s. What matter if there are troubles outside?
That"s good--there is music."
He beckoned to the chef d"orchestre, engaged him for a few moments in conversation, poured him out a gla.s.s of wine, and slipped something into his hand. Then he recommenced his dinner with a chuckle of satisfaction.
"The little man can play," he declared. "He has it in his fingers. We shall hear now the waltzes that I love. Ah, Miss Julia, why is this not Paris! Why can I not get up and put my arm around your waist and whisper in your ear as we float round and round in a waltz? Stupid questions!
I am too short to dance with you, for one thing, and much too fat, But one loves to imagine. Listen."
Maraton had already set down his knife and fork. The strains of the waltz had come to him with a queer note of familiarity, a familiarity which at first he found elusive. Then, as the movement progressed, he remembered. Once more he was sitting in that distant corner of the winter garden, hearing every now and then the faint sound of the orchestra from the ballroom. It was the same waltz; alas, the same music was warming his blood! And it was too late now. He had pa.s.sed into the other world. In his pocket lay the letter which he had received that evening from Mr. Foley--a few dignified lines of bitter disappointment. He was an outcast, one who might even soon be regarded as the wrecker of his own country. And still the music grew and faded and grew again.
It was late before they had finished dinner, and Maraton took Selingman to one side.
"Remember," he insisted, "it is a bargain. Before I go north I must see Maxendorf."
Selingman nodded.
"It is arranged," he said. "We both agreed that it was better for you not to go to the hotel. Wait."
He glanced at his watch and nodded.
"Stay with your brother, little one," he directed, turning to Julia.
"We shall be away only a few moments. Come."
"Where are we going?" Maraton enquired, as they pa.s.sed through the restaurant and ascended the stairs.
Selingman placed his finger by the side of his nose.
"A plan of mine," he whispered. "Maxendorf is here, in a private room."
Selingman hurried his companion into a small private dining-room.
Maxendorf was sitting there alone, smoking a cigarette over the remnants of an unpretentious feast. He welcomed them without a smile; his aspect, indeed, as he waved his hand towards a chair, was almost forbidding.
"What do you want with me, Maraton?" he asked. "They tell me--Selingman tells me--there was a word you had to say before you press the levers.
Say it, then, and remember that hereafter, the less communication between you and me the better."
Maraton ignored the chair. He stood a little way inside the room.
Through the partially opened window came the ceaseless roar of traffic from the busy street below.
"Maxendorf," he began, "there isn"t much to be said. You know--Selingman has told you--what my decision is. It took me some time to make up my mind--only because I doubted one thing, and one thing alone, in the world. That one thing, Maxendorf, was your good faith."
Maxendorf lifted his eyes swiftly.
"You doubted me," he repeated.
"You"re a people"s man, I know," Maraton went one, "but here and there one finds queer traits in your character. They say that you are also a patriot and a schemer."