For she had begun to be aware, for the first time since her initiation, of a very faint distaste--as slight and yet as suggestive as that caused by a half-perceived consciousness of a delicately disagreeable smell. There comes such a moment in the life of cut flowers in water, when the impetus of growing energy ceases, and a new tone makes itself felt in their scent, of which the end is certain. It is not sufficient to cause the flowers to be thrown away; they still possess volumes of fragrance; yet these decrease, and the new scent increases, until it has the victory.
So it was now to the perceptions of this lady. Oh! yes. Spiritualism was very "teaching" and beautiful; it was perfectly compatible with orthodox religion; it was undeniably true. She would not dream of giving it up. Only it would be better if Laurie Baxter did not meddle with it: he was too sensitive.... However, he was coming that evening again.... There was the fact.
As she turned southwards at last, crossing the road again towards her own street, it seemed to her that the day even now was beginning to cloud over. Over the roofs of Kensington a haze was beginning to make itself visible, as impalpable as a skein of smoke; yet there it was.
She felt a little languid, too. Perhaps she had walked too far. She would rest a little after lunch, if dearest Maud did not mind; for dearest Maud was to lunch with her, as was usual on Sundays when the Colonel was away.
As she came, slower than ever, down the broad opulent pavement of Queen"s Gate, through the silence and emptiness of Sunday--for the church bells were long ago silent--she noticed coming towards her, with a sauntering step, an old gentleman in frock coat and silk hat of a slightly antique appearance, spatted and gloved, carrying his hands behind his back, as if he were waiting to be joined by some friend from one of the houses. She noticed that he looked at her through his gla.s.ses, but thought no more of it till she turned up the steps of her own house. Then she was startled by the sound of quick footsteps and a voice.
"I beg your pardon, madam ..."
She turned, with her key in the door, and there he stood, hat in hand.
"Have I the pleasure of speaking to Lady Laura Beth.e.l.l?"
There was a pleasant brisk ring about his voice that inclined her rather favorably towards him.
"Is there anything.... Did you want to speak to me...? Yes, I am Lady Laura Beth.e.l.l."
"I was told you were at church, madam, and that you were not at home to visitors on Sunday."
"That is quite right.... May I ask...?"
"Only a few minutes, Lady Laura, I promise you. Will you forgive my persistence?"
Yes; the man was a gentleman; there was no doubt of that.
"Would not tomorrow do? I am rather engaged today."
He had his card-case ready, and without answering her at once, he came up the steps and handed it to her.
The name meant nothing at all to her.
"Will not tomorrow...?" she began again.
"Tomorrow will be too late," said the old gentleman. "I beg of you, Lady Laura. It is on an extremely important matter."
She still hesitated an instant; then she pushed the door open and went in.
"Please come in," she said.
She was so taken aback by the sudden situation that she forgot completely that the drawing-room would be upside down, and led the way straight upstairs; and it was not till she was actually within the door, with the old gentleman close on her heels, that she saw that, with the exception of three or four chairs about the fire and the table set out near the hearthrug, the room was empty of furniture.
"I forgot," she said; "but will you mind coming in here.... We ... we have a meeting here this evening."
She led the way to the fire, and at first did not notice that he was not following her. When she turned round she saw the old gentleman, with his air of antique politeness completely vanished, standing and looking about him with a very peculiar expression. She also noticed, to her annoyance, that the cabinet was already in place in the little ante-room and that his eyes almost immediately rested upon it. Yet there was no look of wonder in his face; rather it was such a look as a man might have on visiting the scene of a well-known crime--interest, knowledge, and loathing.
"So it is here--" he said in quite a low voice.
Then he came across the room towards her.
II
For an instant his bearded face looked so strangely at her that she half moved towards the bell. Then he smiled, with a little rea.s.suring gesture.
"No, no," he said. "May I sit down a moment?"
She began hastily to cover her confusion.
"It is a meeting," she said, "for this evening. I am sorry--"
"Just so," he said. "It is about that that I have come."
"I beg your pardon...?"
"Please sit down, Lady Laura.... May I say in a sentence what I have come to say?"
This seemed a very odd old man.
"Why, yes--" she said.
"I have come to beg you not to allow Mr. Baxter to enter the house.... No, I have no authority from anyone, least of all from Mr.
Baxter. He has no idea that I have come. He would think it an unwarrantable piece of impertinence."
"Mr. Cathcart ... I--I cannot--"
"Allow me," he said, with a little compelling gesture that silenced her. "I have been asked to interfere by a couple of people very much interested in Mr. Baxter; one of them, if not both, completely disbelieves in spiritualism."
"Then you know--"
He waved his hand towards the cabinet.
"Of course I know," he said. "Why, I was a spiritualist for ten years myself. No, not a medium; not a professional, that is to say. I know all about Mr. Vincent; all about Mrs. Stapleton and yourself, Lady Laura. I still follow the news closely; I know perfectly well--"
"And you have given it up?"
"I have given it up for a long while," he said quietly. "And I have come to ask you to forbid Mr. Baxter to be present this evening, for--for the same reason for which I have given it up myself."
"Yes? And that--"
"I don"t think we need go into that," he said. "It is enough, is it not, for me to say that Mr. Baxter"s work, and, in fact, his whole nervous system, is suffering considerably from the excitement; that one of the persons who have asked me to do what I can is Mr. Baxter"s own law-coach: and that even if he had not asked me, Mr. Baxter"s own appearance--"
"You know him?"
"Practically, no. I lunched at the same table with him on Friday; the symptoms are quite unmistakable."