LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER
 
 'By L. T. Jacks, D.D., LL.D., D.Litt. 
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 THE HEROES OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 THE FAITH OF A WORKER 
 
 THE CHALLENGE OF LIFE 
 
 THE LOST RADIANCE OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION 
 
 A LIVING UNIVERSE 
 
 REALITIES AND SHAMS 
 
 RELIGIOUS PERPLEXITIES
 
 THE LEGENDS 
 OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 L. P. JACKS 
 
 PRINCIPAL OF MANCHESTER COLLEGE, OXFORD; 
 EDITOR OF "the HIBBERT JOURNAL" 
 
 "Now his elder son was in the field : and as he came and 
 drew nigh to the house, he heard musick and dancing." 
 
 PARABLE OF THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 — A — 
 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
 
 THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED 
 
 TO 
 
 JOHN BUCHAN 
 
 IN ADMIRATION FOR HIS WRITINGS 
 
 GRAVE AND GAY 
 
 AND 
 
 IN GRATITUDE FOR WISE COUNSEL 
 
 GIVEN IN A FORM 
 
 WHICH MULTIPLIED ITS VALUE
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 SMOKEOVER AND ITS SMOKE 1 1 
 
 I THE LEGEND OF RUMBELOW, THE BET- 
 TING MAN 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I THE EVOLUTION OF RUMBELOW 27 
 
 II MR. RUMBELOW'S BUSINESS FROM WITHIN 40 
 
 III RUMBELOw's FEAST 60 
 
 II THE LEGEND OF THE MAD MILLIONAIRE 
 
 I SMOKEOVER GROWS RICH 81 
 
 II THE PROFITEER 94 
 
 III MR. hooker's ADVISERS 115 
 
 IV THE MAD MILLIONAIRE HAS A NEAR SHAVE 128 
 V THE TRANSFIGURATION OF A MOUSE 151 
 
 VI MR. HOOKER FACES THE WORST 166 
 
 VII AND DISCOVERS THE UNREAL 171 
 
 VIII AND BEGINS TO MAKE USE OF HIS DISCOVERY 182 
 
 IX MR. HOTBLACK EXPOUNDS THE BEAUTY OF 
 
 BUSINESS 197 
 X AND MR. HOOKER BEHOLDS THE BEAUTY OF 
 
 WOMEN 209 
 
 III THE LEGEND OF MARGARET WOLFSTONE 
 
 I MISS WOLFSTONE BECOMES CLAIRVOYANT 229 
 
 II MISS WOLFSTONE PROVES HERSELF AN AD- 
 VENTURESS 244 
 III AND EMBARKS FORTHWITH ON A DANGEROUS 
 
 ADVENTURE 263 
 
 vii
 
 O N T E N 
 
 PACE 
 
 IV THE LEGEND OF PROFESSOR RIPPLE- 
 MARK 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I THE EMERGENCE OF PROFESSOR RIPPLEMARK 283 
 II MR. HOOKER VERIFIES AN INTUITION 304 
 
 III PROFESSOR RIPPLEMARK IS PUT TO THE QUES- 
 
 TION 323 
 
 IV PROFESSOR RIPPLEMARK IS EXTRICATED FROM 
 
 A DIFFICULTY 339 
 
 V AND FORTHWITH FINDS HIMSELF IN ANOTHER 357 
 
 V THE LEGEND OF THE LEAGUE 
 
 1 A DEN OF THIEVES 383 
 
 II "les beaux esprits s'entendent" 399 
 
 Vlll
 
 PART ONE 
 
 The Legend of Rumbelow, the Betting Man
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 Smokeover and Its Smoke 
 
 np] 
 
 
 'HE city of Smokeover is renowned for size, 
 momentum and obscurity. It contains a million 
 inhabitants, not counting those in the cemeteries, 
 who, though they have no votes, are still potent in 
 the common life. There are ninety miles of electric 
 tramways, two thousand public-houses, four hundred 
 schools, three hundred places of worship, five garden 
 suburbs, two square miles of slums, a municipal Art 
 Gallery, a branch of the Society for Ethical Culture, 
 a racecourse, three prisons, a university, a crema- 
 torium, and a sewage system which is the wonder of 
 the world. The city government, with a Lord Mayor 
 at its head, is progressive, especially in the matter of 
 raising the rates. Most of the public services have 
 been municipalized. The consumption of coal is 
 enormous, 900,000 tons being carbonized annually 
 in the production of municipal gas alone. The water, 
 brought from a great distance, is pure and abundant, 
 but the light is dim and the air charged with the 
 products of combustion. The odour of burnt petrol 
 pervades the streets at all hours of the day and far 
 into the night. 
 
 Smokeover makes all sorts of things; its products 
 are as varied as the merchandise of Tyre, inventoried 
 
 11
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 by the Prophet Ezekielj the worm that consumes 
 them never dies, and the fire that creates them is 
 never quenched. But the chief product of Smoke- 
 over is, of course, itself j or rather its million in- 
 habitants. More than any of its manufactures, more 
 than all of them put together, these men, women and 
 children represent the city's main contribution to 
 the working capital of the universe. What they are 
 worth nobody knows j some holding that they are 
 worth nothing at all, or at least acting upon that 
 assumption, others that their value is immense. On 
 this question hot dispute rages in Smokeover, and a 
 professor of economics in the local university has 
 cynically suggested that the only way to settle the 
 matter would be to turn all the inhabitants, rich 
 and poor, into slaves and sell them for what they 
 would fetch in the open market. But to this, and to 
 all such high-handed methods, the citizens show 
 great aversion. Liberty being one of their watch- 
 words. A few are haunted by a secret fear that 
 they would not fetch much, if put up for auction. 
 Speaking broadly, one may say that the work that 
 has to be done in Smokeover from day to day is 
 not liked by the majority of those who have to do 
 it. They describe their labour as "laborious," which 
 is far from being a tautology, and consent to it only 
 on condition that the hours are reduced to a mini- 
 mum and the pay increased to a maximum, reaching 
 the goal of their desires when they have no more 
 of it to do, either because the hour has struck for 
 knocking off, or because they are in a position to 
 "retire." But let no one suppose that the men of 
 Smokeover spend their leisure time in doing nothing. 
 
 12
 
 SMOKEOVER AND ITS SMOKE 
 
 They spend it in making demands on the labour of 
 their fellow citizens, thereby creating a vicious circle 
 in the life of the cityj since the more leisure one 
 man has the harder another must work to keep the 
 first amused or to prevent him getting into mischief. 
 A few employ their leisure by taking walks into the 
 country and contemplating the beauties of nature j 
 but even this wears out their shoes, which somebody 
 else has to mend. On the whole, the inhabitants 
 are not as anxious to preserve the civilization of their 
 city as they are glad to get away from it. This be- 
 comes evident in times of war, when the young men 
 rush to the colours by thousands. Though war in 
 itself is by no means attractive, it often becomes so 
 to the men of Smokeover in comparison with other 
 things — for example, with the Smokeover type of 
 peace. 
 
 The city is a hive of contradictions. If you are 
 thinking of the best people who live there, you would 
 pronounce it a model of what such places should bej 
 but if you are thinking of what the best people have 
 to contend against in the worst, you would say that 
 no more wicked city ever existed on this earth. Your 
 impression will vary between extremes, according as 
 you fix attention on the flowers which the tree bears 
 on some of its branches or on the foul juices which 
 feed its roots. Both extremes are reflected in the 
 local oratory, some orators maintaining that Smoke- 
 over is progressing towards the earthly paradise, 
 others that it is sliding down an inclined plane towards 
 a dismal catastrophe. 
 
 In the suburbs are pleasant houses, thousands of 
 them, with gardens, shady trees, shrubberies, tennis 
 
 13
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 lawns, ponds. Here comfort reigns and beauty is a 
 frequent visitor. As you sit or wander in the gardens 
 you may see the tops of the factory chimneys rising 
 above the tops of the trees and placidly smoking in 
 the distance, and may reflect that, in the economic 
 sense, the gardens are fed by the smoke. When the 
 wind is in the right direction a smell of sulphur will 
 be in the air; you will also observe that the green 
 of the shrubberies is not of the purest; careful old 
 ladies may sometimes be seen wiping the smuts off 
 the laurels with a wet sponge. Here are lithe and 
 beautiful girls, in white frocks, playing tennis, whose 
 joyous faces, light laughter and easy movement will 
 help you to believe in God, and to say "alPs right 
 with the world," or at least nothing radically wrong 
 with Smokeover. But down in the slums are women 
 of another type, who fight one another on Saturday 
 nights with hellish outcries and bloody faces, while 
 the men look on. These will help you to believe in 
 the devil, or to fancy that you are in hell already. 
 Which indeed may be the fact, hell most assuredly 
 having no fouler sight to show. Yet all is one. The 
 heaven and the hell, the tennis-playing sylphs and 
 the gin-drinking viragoes — the smoke of Smokeover 
 sustains them both. 
 
 Three main interests, the political, the economic 
 and the spiritual, occupy the inhabitants and deter- 
 mine the general form and pressure of their lives. 
 These three make a partnership, an alliance, or, as 
 some are now preferring to say, an entanglement, in 
 which politics are unquestionably predominant. 
 
 The political interest of Smokeover covers the 
 fortunes of the world, embracing the whole net- 
 
 14
 
 SMOKEOVER AND ITS SMOKE 
 
 work of warlike relationships on which the fates of 
 empire depend, and coming to a head at frequent 
 intervals in the policies of rival parties at the elec- 
 tions. 
 
 The economic interest, concerned with the pro- 
 duction of what the text-books call "wealth" and the 
 Lord's Prayer "daily bread," has to adjust itself as 
 best it may to the political, submitting its accumula- 
 tions to destruction and contenting itself with what 
 is left over, whenever the politicians go to war. 
 
 The spiritual interest, which is popularly known as 
 "Education," comes last, and has to adjust itself 
 to the other two, sometimes to each singly, sometimes 
 to both together, being never allowed to take its place 
 at the common table until the appetites of the more 
 important partners have been satisfied. 
 
 Thus the economic interest dances attendance upon 
 the political, and the spiritual on both. The arrange- 
 ment is accurately reflected in the minds of the in- 
 habitants, which have become so habituated to this 
 order of priority as to be unaware that it exists. A 
 proposal to reverse it would be treated by most of 
 them as unthinkable. "Reverse what?^* they would 
 ask; and when you told them what you propose to 
 reverse, some would call upon the god of Smokeover 
 to dash you to pieces. All the same, the inhabitants 
 are profoundly restive under the political and eco- 
 nomic servitude to which their spiritual interest has 
 been reduced. Not knowing what is the matter with 
 them they blame the government, and can think 
 of no remedy save getting a new one, which is no 
 sooner elected than they become more restive than 
 ever. 
 
 15
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 In normal times Smokeover has the appearance of 
 belonging to peace, and of taking little interest in 
 v/ar, either as an occupation or as a spectacle. The 
 city has no fortifications, while the only cannon it 
 contains are mementoes, soiled by the droppings of 
 birds. The barracks are inconspicuous, their very 
 existence unknown to most of the inhabitants. For 
 outward and visible signs of regimentation one looks 
 in vain. The movements of the population, the 
 surging crowds at the stations, the goings to and 
 fro in the busy streets, suggest a fermentation rather 
 than a march j each person appears to be going some- 
 where, the totality nowhere. Though these people 
 are descendants of a conquering race, citizens of an 
 empire built up by conquest, they have no martial 
 airs, and seldom swagger, save when they are in their 
 cups. But when placed under discipline they soon 
 acquire the manage of arms and the military carriage j 
 the face of the shopman loses its pallor, the shrunken 
 chest of the waiter fills out, the mincing barber comes 
 home to his astonished friends with the robust frame 
 and the hardy countenance of war. 
 
 In which particular there is an analogy between 
 the men of Smokeover and the industries by which 
 they earn their daily bread. For, just as these un- 
 soldierly people can on the briefest notice be con- 
 verted into excellent soldiers, so by a transformation 
 no less rapid the chimneys which to-day are smoking 
 for peace will to-morrow be smoking for war; while, 
 down below, the iron bedsteads are turning into 
 bombs, the ploughshares into gun-barrels, the prun- 
 ing-hooks into bayonets, and nitro-glycerine is being 
 concocted in the dyeing vat. These sudden trans- 
 
 16
 
 SMOKEOVER AND ITS SMOKE 
 
 formations have given rise to the longest of the 
 Smokeover Legends, which will appear in its place. 
 Indeed, when we closely scrutinize these things 
 our first impression that Smokeover is a peace-made 
 city begins to waver. Beneath the outward semblance 
 of unreadiness for war, and of preoccupation with 
 other things, we discern an inner structure in the life 
 of the city which suggests a very close adjustment 
 to the war-making needs of a militant civilization. 
 Many features of the place which seem at first sight 
 to favour peace, turn out, on closer examination, to 
 favour war. The religion, for example. This is 
 Christianity, which no man construes as a religion of 
 strife. But the God worshipped by the Smokeover 
 Christians has managed somehow to acquire qualities 
 that commend him to the military mind. He rules 
 the universe under a system of inviolable law and 
 punishes mutineers with death, essentially a God of 
 regimentation and discipline in the popular concep- 
 tion of Him, and a hard hitter, easily acclimatized to 
 the atmosphere of the drill ground and ready to 
 become a God of Battles on the turn of a phrase. 
 Of all the vocations and properties of Smokeover 
 none can be converted more swiftly to the uses of 
 war than its religion and its God. So with its mo- 
 rality. This rests on the idea of duty^ variously in- 
 terpreted by the philosophers, but recognized at once 
 by the men of Smokeover as that which England ex- 
 pects them all to do when a battle has to be fought. 
 So it comes to pass that whenever a call goes forth 
 for fighting men in Smokeover, religion and morality, 
 the Churches and the Society for Ethical Culture, 
 cry out with one voice to the young men, "Enlist, 
 
 17
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 and we will go with you into the field," the clergy 
 themselves setting the example by becoming military 
 chaplains. 
 
 And what shall we say of the "economic system," 
 of the trade, the manufactures, the business, the 
 wage-earning and the profit-making that go on from 
 day to day? These, too, look peaceable enough. But 
 observe the "system" with a closer eye, and what 
 do you find? You find that wealth in Smokeover 
 is so distributed that it can be easiest got at when 
 wanted to furnish the commissariat of war. Which 
 is the easier — to tax and borrow from ten million- 
 aires or from a million men having ten pounds 
 apiece? There are exactly ten millionaires in Smoke- 
 over. Is that an accident? And who can fail to see 
 that the distribution of wealth in time of peace is 
 the basis for the distribution of power in time of 
 war? Take the statistics of rich and poor. Lo and 
 behold, they roughly display the proportion of offi- 
 cers and privates contributed by the city to the recent 
 war. Is that an accident either? What a war-mak- 
 ing civilization demands is a relatively small class of 
 the rich and well-to-do to furnish the money and the 
 officers, and a relatively large class of the poor to 
 fill the ranks and clean up the mess. Exactly what 
 you will find in Smokeover. 
 
 On all grounds therefore we shall err if we take 
 Smokeover at its face value as a peace-made or a 
 peace-making city. In the foreground of the picture 
 are the slums and the suburbs, the chimneys and the 
 tennis lawns, the factories and the mansions, the 
 churches and the taverns, the throng in the street 
 and the crowd at the football match j in the back- 
 
 18
 
 SMOKEOVER AND ITS SMOKE 
 
 ground are marching hosts and bloody battles j and 
 between the two run links of meaning and purpose, 
 which so connect them that foreground and back- 
 ground combine together into one consistent whole. 
 The transition from peace to war in our city is not 
 violent, as some think, but natural and easy. In a 
 war-making world Smokeover stands ready for use at 
 the shortest notice, and with the least possible breach 
 with existing habits of mind. One may compare the 
 inhabitants to a mighty shoal of fishes imprisoned in 
 a far-flung and invisible net, which encloses so vast 
 an area of the ocean that the fishes may swim and 
 disport themselves for hundreds of miles, and re- 
 produce their kind generation after generation, with- 
 out once discovering that they are in a cruel trap. 
 When war needs the fishes the net is drawn in. 
 
 The city has an imposing coat of arms, bearing 
 the legend Per ardua ad astra; which means, when 
 translated into the vernacular, "Go ahead." In the 
 local oratory, not the least among the Smokeover 
 products, the stars are sometimes mentioned j but in 
 the popular mind they are objects of little importance, 
 being much obscured by the canopy of smoke which 
 the manifold industries of the place pour into the 
 circumambient sky. To the business men who govern 
 the city — most admirably, so they say — the idea of 
 guiding them either by the stars or to the stars would, 
 if seriously pressed, seem somewhat ridiculous. They 
 read what is written on the coat of arms as a general 
 injunction to Smokeover to widen the streets, to clear 
 insanitary areas, to municipalize gas, electricity and 
 water, to extend the tram-lines into the suburbs and 
 to raise the rates — in short, to go ahead, keeping well 
 
 19
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 abreast of the times. And the city responds, not, 
 however, with a reckless plunge, but with a creeping 
 movement, so slow that the individual inhabitants are 
 not conscious of it until it has carried them a measur- 
 able distance, but so irresistible in its momentum 
 that if you get in the way there will be nothing left 
 of you to tell the tale. 
 
 But whither is Smokeover going? — that is the 
 question. As we have seen it makes no pretence of 
 going to the stars, in spite of the legend on its coat 
 of arms. But if not to the stars, where else? In 
 the year 1740 George Whitefield, preaching in the 
 Bear Pit, told the inhabitants they were going straight 
 to hellj whereupon there was a panic, attended by 
 many conversions. But those were the days when 
 Smokeover believed in Original Sin and in the book 
 of Genesis, and had, in consequence, a distinct idea of 
 its place in the universe and of yet more dangerous 
 places in the immediate vicinity. But nowadays it 
 has no such idea, mistaken or otherwise. The in- 
 habitants do not bother about the universe, having 
 more important affairs to look after. They know 
 of course their place on the map, know it better than 
 their fathers did in the days when maps were scarce 
 and inaccurate; but in the universe they are com- 
 pletely lost. There is not a soul among them, from 
 the Bishop to the man who empties the dust bins, 
 who could tell the citizens, with a confidence like 
 that of George Whitefield, the exact whereabouts 
 of Smokeover in the general scheme of things. What 
 wonder then that nobody knows whither Smokeover 
 is going? And yet it goes ahead all the time, think- 
 ing of the universe, when it thinks at all, as a place 
 
 20
 
 SMOKEOVER AND ITS SMOKE 
 
 where cities cannot go wrong provided they are big 
 enough, produce plenty of smoke and have the right 
 men on the city council. 
 
 The momentum of this advance is little understood 
 by those of the citizens who would convert Smoke- 
 over into the New Jerusalem. They are apt to deal 
 with the city as though it were a stationary object, 
 ready to be turned in this direction or that by the 
 impact of the Ideal. But when a mass so enormous 
 moves forward, even though the pace be no greater 
 than a snaiPs, an earthquake is needed to turn it 
 from its course. So it is with the movement of 
 Smokeover. Beneath the changes that take place on 
 the surface, which are important and visible to the 
 eye, there is the invisible urge of the total mass, 
 creeping forward in a path marked out for it by 
 history and by the mental habits of the million in- 
 habitants — a prodigious and terrible force. During 
 the recent war, which was a kind of earthquake, the 
 momentum of the city seemed for once to have met 
 its match j it received a check; conditions looked 
 favourable for a radical change ; and the hopes of re- 
 construction ran high. Had reconstruction begun 
 then and there, a new birth might have happened, 
 and the face of Smokeover definitely turned itself 
 towards the stars. But, alas, the opportunity could 
 not be seized! By common consent reconstruction 
 had to wait till the war was over. Nobody was ex- 
 pected to begin just yet, for plainly nothing could 
 be done until the Germans, who were planning re- 
 construction on a model of their own, had been thor- 
 oughly defeated. The delay was fatal. No sooner 
 was the war at an end than the momentum of the 
 
 21
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 city, which had gathered energy in the interval, re- 
 sumed its mastery over the lives of the inhabitants. 
 For it was instantly apparent, even to the dullest 
 minds, that unless Smokeover smoked harder than 
 ever there would be a famine in the land. In a 
 moment the radiant dream had vanished, a curtain 
 was drawn over the vision of the stars, and the wise 
 men of the place, having no alternative, were chang- 
 ing their note from the heavenly to the earthly key. 
 The Bishop, the Lord Mayor, the Principal of the 
 University, the President of the Free Church Coun- 
 cil, the President of the Ethical Society, the local 
 members of Parliament, the leader of the Labour 
 Party, the Chairmen of the Banks, the Captains of 
 Industry and all the others, domestic and imported, 
 whose mission it was to guide Smokeover to the stars, 
 joined their voices with one accord in urging the 
 city to smoke its hardest, or, as they phrased it, "to 
 produce more." Instead of arresting the monster 
 in his course they found themselves riding on his 
 back, and praising the smoke that went up from his 
 nostrils. They scrubbed him and they cleaned him, 
 they planted trees between his scales, they built gar- 
 den suburbs behind his ears, they tied bunches of 
 flowers to his lashing tail, they did all they could to 
 make him a presentable monster. But he all the time 
 crept on, taking them whithersoever he would, while 
 the stars shone through the gathering murk with a 
 dimmer light and seemed less important than ever — 
 save perhaps for a brief period when a coal strike 
 extinguished the fires below. In plain speech, Smoke- 
 over fell back at a bound into the old smoky ways 
 that had made it what it was, disporting itself as be- 
 
 22
 
 SMOKEOVER AND ITS SMOKE 
 
 fore, and unconscious that it was still held captive 
 in the far-flung net of war. Is not the momentum 
 of this city a prodigious and terrible thing? 
 
 All gospels for the reformation of Smokeover, all 
 revolutions for its overthrow, seem doomed to reduce 
 themselves in like manner to the simple formula 
 "Make more smoke." The momentum of the place, 
 which rules the minds as well as the bodies of the 
 inhabitants, will not suffer it to be otherwise. Un- 
 less your gospel or your revolution can express itself 
 in smoke-making terms, Smokeover will have none 
 of it. This is the acid test of truth, the standard of 
 righteousness and the canon of practicability. You 
 may borrow your principles from the highest heaven 
 of invention J you may begin in the City of Godj no 
 one will object; but no one will believe until you 
 give these shining things an intelligible, smoke-mak- 
 ing application. In all this Smokeover is reaping the 
 fruits of the second of the two great crises in the 
 history of civilization. The first took place when the 
 kingdom of heaven was captured by politics in the 
 age of Constantine ; the second when it was captured 
 by economics in the age of Smokeover. Both cap- 
 tures were brought about by the momentum of things. 
 
 Towards the end of the war there arose in this 
 city a group of five persons, two women and three 
 men, who, for reasons which the Legends tell, re- 
 belled against these conditions. Rebels in the vulgar 
 sense they were notj for they attacked no govern- 
 ment and shot nobody in the back. At the peril of 
 their fortunes, their lives and their reputation for 
 sanity, they resolved to oppose the momentum of 
 Smokeover and to strike for a kingdom not founded 
 
 23
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 on smoke. At first the resolution was taken by each 
 one singly. Later on they found one another out, 
 as loyal spirits are apt to do, and formed a con- 
 spiracy, splendid but perhaps quixotic, against the 
 canopy of smoke that hung over their city and hid 
 the light of the stars from their fellow citizens. 
 How they came to find one another out and to lay 
 their plans will be told in these Legends. 
 
 They were all great souls j all had drunk the cup 
 of amazement and rubbed elbows with death j and 
 since the psychology of great souls is widely different 
 from that of little ones (a point overlooked in the 
 text-books) some persons may find a difficulty in 
 believing that such beings ever walked the earth, or 
 existed at all. Even the Author himself, who had 
 not created these Legends, but merely collected them 
 in their birthplace, has often wondered at the strange 
 doings he has had to transcribe. On the whole he is 
 inclined to believe that the five conspirators were 
 real people. If so, and if on reading these pages they 
 should recognize themselves under the disguise here 
 assigned to them, he presents them with his apologies 
 for the many lies he has had to tell. It was neces- 
 sary to tell lies in order to give the public a truthful 
 impression of what these five great souls were after. 
 All legends do this. 
 
 That Smokeover should have produced a literature 
 of legend is in itself a sufficiently remarkable fact. 
 As the birthplace of legend no city could have a more 
 unpromising look. When the Author, visiting the 
 city to collect these stories, explained his errand to 
 the wise men of the place, they seemed both as- 
 tonished and amused, and, after whispering among 
 
 24
 
 SMOKEOVER AND ITS SMOKE 
 
 themselves for some minutes, during which the 
 Author suspected that his reputation for sanity was 
 being canvassed, they informed him with a smile that 
 Smokeover was not Iceland and that he had evidently 
 made a mistake as to his whereabouts. When he 
 replied, with some warmth, that he knew perfectly 
 where he was, and that Smokeover was far too dirty 
 to be mistaken for any other place, and has posed 
 the wise men with a few questions about Iceland 
 and its Sagas which they could not answer, they 
 changed their ground and asked him whether legends 
 were really what he wanted, and not rather the plot 
 for a novel. If so, they added, they could supply 
 him with plenty. On this the indignation of the 
 Author broke bounds; it seemed to him an offensive 
 thing that he should be suspected of not knowing 
 the difference between a legend and a novel; and 
 so the parties separated with mutual contempt, the 
 wise men convinced that the Author was mad, the 
 Author convinced that the wise men were fools. 
 
 It was only after protracted search that he came 
 upon the first traces of the Smokeover Legends, of 
 which, from certain points in the appearance of the 
 place, he had never doubted the existence. For 
 though to the casual observer Smokeover might seem 
 far too dim a spot to be the home of phantasy, there 
 were, nevertheless, in the hidden parts of its structure, 
 a few features which, closely examined, looked un- 
 commonly like points of contact with an invisible 
 world. 
 
 Now it is an invariable rule in the growth of litera- 
 ture that legends originate at the places of transit 
 where ideal things pass over into actualities. They 
 
 25
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 haunt the bridges between the visible world and its 
 heavenly counterpart j they gather at the fords and 
 ferries which carry the traffic of the eternal values 
 across the River of Forgetfulness into the scene of 
 their temporal manifestations. Two or three of these 
 bridges, all in the very heart of Smokeover, the 
 Author was able to find. There he would linger, 
 confident that he would not have long to wait, often 
 averting his eyes or holding his nostrils (for one of 
 the places reeked with sin), but with the listening 
 organ at the utmost tension of expectancy, ready for 
 the smallest voice. Murmurs and whisperings soon 
 began, which grew little by little to the form of 
 intelligible speech. The first Legend to come to the 
 Bridge and become fully articulate was that of Rum- 
 below the Betting Man. Translated into the ver- 
 nacular it ran as follows. 
 
 26
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 The Evolution of Rumbelow 
 
 MR. ARTHUR RUMBELOW, senior partner 
 in the great betting firm of Rumbelow, Stally- 
 brass & Corker, was an incarnation of the gambling 
 spirit and one of the greatest gamesters of any age. 
 He had graduated, with the highest honours, on the 
 Turf, and then, with the Ring as a point of depar- 
 ture, had gradually extended his sphere of operations 
 until it embraced the world. He was ready to lay 
 odds on most events in the heavens above and on the 
 earth beneath. "The things that interest mankind," 
 he was wont to say, "are the things on which you can 
 bet." To great and giddy heights had he come, 
 where, invisible to the gross vision of the multitude, 
 he played his part as the builder-up and the puller- 
 down of human fortunes — the mentor of theologians, 
 the scourge of philosophers, the prompter of the 
 Press, the secret counsellor of kings. The orators 
 declaimed, the parties fought, the voters voted, the 
 cabinets sat, the parliaments made laws, the diplo- 
 matists lied; but Mr. Rumbelow pulled invisible 
 strings behind them all. By a nod or a word or a 
 telegram he could upset the plans of the wariest 
 statesman and make monarchs tremble on their 
 thrones — a man mighty in the casting down of 
 strongholds. 
 
 27
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 Mr. Rumbelow was of unknown parentage. In 
 the back parlours of public-houses, in the smoking- 
 rooms of clubs, at the dinner tables of millionaires, 
 strange stories were told about his father, and yet 
 stranger about his mother j but as these have never 
 been verified and are compromising to the parties 
 concerned they shall not be repeated. So much how- 
 ever may be said: they connected Mr. Rumbelow 
 with one of the noblest families on the earth. 
 
 His earliest recollections were of going round to 
 country wakes and fairs with a drunken rascal who 
 kept a Coco-nut Shy, and went by the name of Rum- 
 below. This man, when he was sober, gave it out 
 that the boy Arthur was his sonj but when he was 
 drunk he would tell another tale, which gave rise 
 to the stories aforesaid. In vino Veritas — to this ex- 
 tent at least that Arthur was, most assuredly, not 
 Rumbelow's son. 
 
 The boy's duties were to look after the coco-nuts, 
 to throw them, when knocked off the stands, to the 
 successful competitors, and then to replace them with 
 others, while his master, at the other end of the show, 
 blew a trumpet and took the money. 
 
 At the age of ten he began his studies of the Doc- 
 trine of Probability, counting up the hits and misses, 
 and recording them each day with a piece of chalk 
 on the sides of the caravan in which he lived with 
 his reputed father. When the sides of the caravan 
 were covered with figures the boy would stare at 
 them for hours in the intervals of business, and 
 finally evolved a formula which he communicated 
 to his master. The result was that the Rumbelow 
 firm was able to offer "shies" at three a penny in- 
 
 28
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF RUM BELOW 
 
 stead of two — the price hitherto ruling the market. 
 It was the first benefit conferred on the public by 
 the genius of Arthur Rumbelow: he had reduced the 
 price to the consumer. But, of course, it led to bad 
 feeling in the trade. The Rumbelow firm was re- 
 garded by the other proprietors as a blackleg or pirate 
 undertaking. There are two methods of making 
 money: the one by selling things dear; the other, 
 far more lucrative, by selling them cheap. From the 
 very beginning Mr. Rumbelow was a convinced be- 
 liever in the second and the implacable enemy of all 
 who practised the first. The hostility was reciprocal. 
 On one occasion the stand was wrecked by a mob in- 
 cited for the purpose, and the two Rumbelows griev- 
 ously pelted with their own coco-nuts, insomuch that 
 all would have been lost had not the young Rumbe- 
 low, counter-attacking with inconceivable fury, 
 launched a monster nut full in the face of the lead- 
 ing assailant, who was laid out for dead. After this 
 victory the trade acquiesced in the inevitable, and the 
 price of the sport all over the kingdom was brought 
 down to the Rumbelow level. Cut-throat competi- 
 tion had done its work. Coco-nut shying became 
 more popular, the importation of coco-nuts increased, 
 and the inhabitants of the South Sea Islands began 
 to grow rich. We live in a world where everything 
 is connected with everything else. 
 
 The capital needed for starting a Coco-nut Shy is 
 not large. In proportion to the funds invested it 
 probably yields as rich a return as any other line of 
 business known to man. All you require to begin 
 with is ten-shillings^ worth of coco-nuts, a dozen 
 props to poise them on, a box of wooden balls, a 
 
 29
 
 THE LEGENDC OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 canvas screen, with your name on it, to arrest the 
 missiles, a trumpet to summon and stimulate the 
 sportsmen, and a hand-barrow to transport the equip- 
 ment from place to place. For labour, one boy will 
 be enough, an orphan by preference, and of a suit- 
 able age to be chastised with a strap v/ithout risk 
 of reprisals. You will li\^e iii the open air, travel 
 much, see all the wakes and fairs in the country, 
 which are well worth seeing, pay neither rent nor 
 rates, and, if your hobby takes that form, may prac- 
 tise bigamy with small risk of detection. The life 
 will be easy and sporting, the bad debts none and 
 the profits immense. It is to be hoped that when the 
 Social Revolution confiscates private property it will 
 not overlook so flagrant an instance of the vices in- 
 herent in a capitalist system. There are Coco-nut 
 Shies that pay over a thousand per centum and 
 scandalously sweat their employees. The young 
 Rumbelow, for instance, who made the fortunes of 
 his master's business, was never paid more than five 
 shillings a week, was cruelly strapped, fed with 
 rotten coco-nuts and compelled to sleep in that corner 
 of the caravan which was fullest of fleas. It was a 
 little out of keeping with all this that Rumbelow 
 the elder was himself a social revolutionary of ad- 
 vanced views and insatiable volubility. He might 
 often be seen, when the show had closed down, on 
 the village green or at the street corner, urging a 
 knot of youths with cigarettes in their mouths and 
 caps stuck on the sides of their heads to rise in mass 
 against their oppressors. 
 
 There are many trades which, whether from over- 
 sight or favouritism, enjoy a like immunity from the 
 
 30
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF RUMBELOW 
 
 zeal of the reformer. Arthur Rumbelow, having 
 begun life in one of them, was quick to find others 
 of a similar nature. Under the mental discipline 
 afforded by these vocations he developed, as we shall 
 presently see, a brain which was more than a match 
 for all the Finance Ministers of Europe, whether 
 of the conservative or the revolutionary type. At 
 the period of his great prosperity he was wont to say 
 that, however much the community might subtract 
 from his enormous wealth by way of ransom, he 
 would undertake, in six months, to extract from the 
 community twice as much, and that without the least 
 risk of interference by the State. By these means 
 Mr. Rumbelow became, in due course, a most 
 dangerous manj he acquired an art by which he 
 could capture institutions, even the most democratic, 
 for his own endsj and, had it not been for that high 
 moral nature which he inherited from unknown an- 
 cestors, there is no telling what desolations he might 
 have wrought on the earth. But we are anticipating. 
 One night, after a particularly violent speech for 
 social justice, Mr. Rumbelow the elder retired to a 
 neighbouring public-house, drank himself full of 
 fiery spirits and went staggering home with a fixed 
 resolve to strap Arthur, on the ground that he was a 
 sanguinary aristocrat, within an inch of his life. Ar- 
 rived at the caravan he proceeded to put his plan into 
 execution. But Arthur, who was now sixteen, re- 
 sisted j there was a scuffle, and the great Coco-nut 
 King fell down dead. In the interior of the caravan 
 was a lady with whom Mr. Rumbelow had just con- 
 tracted a bigamous alliance. This lady, on seeing the 
 dead body of her lord stretched out at the foot of 
 
 31
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 the caravan steps, fled shrieking into the night and 
 was never heard of again. There was an inquest j a 
 verdict of death from alcohol j a funeral of the fallen 
 hero under the Red Flag; after which, no other heirs 
 or assigns forthcoming, Arthur took possession of the 
 business — goodwill, coco-nuts and all. 
 
 His first acts were to burn the contents of the cara- 
 van, to fumigate its interior with sulphur and to 
 wash down the walls with boiling water. He then 
 took the money that was in the cash-box, went down 
 town, bought himself a fashionable suit of clothes 
 and a bottle of eau-de-Cologne, had a hot bath, his 
 hair cut and his hands manicured, dined at an ex- 
 pensive restaurant, and was in time to open business 
 when the fair began at half-past seven in the evening. 
 Next day he went to a firm of decorators, where he 
 ordered the repainting of the caravan in black, gold 
 and cream-white, according to a design which he had 
 drawn on a piece of paper, at a cost of £40, half of 
 which he paid on deposit; then to a furniture shop, 
 where he bought some kitchen utensils, a bookshelf, 
 a brass bedstead, an armchair and a water-colour 
 picture; then to a bookshop for Todhunter's Algebra 
 and Shakespeare's works. Lastly to a maker of musi- 
 cal instruments, from whom he ordered a silver 
 bugle, the firm having only brass ones in stock. 
 There was money in the cash-box to pay for all that, 
 and much more. 
 
 Hence that dainty caravan which arrests the eye 
 of the artist as he wanders through the country fair; 
 hence that courteous and well-dressed young gentle- 
 man who summons you to the sport by the call of a 
 silver bugle, and sometimes plays a merry tune into 
 
 32
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF RUMBELOW 
 
 the bargain} hence that sudden outbreak of a craze 
 among the young women, who crowd the Rumbelow 
 stand j hence the roaring business of the reconstituted 
 firm. There are dark looks, of course, and foul 
 words among rival proprietors j there is more sinister 
 talk of cut-throat competition j and in the neighbour- 
 ing public-houses, towards closing time, mention is 
 frequently made of a fierce dog to be let loose, of 
 a head to be bashed in with a silver bugle, of a so- 
 and-so caravan to be raided and burnt. But all that 
 comes to nothing. For among the purchases of 
 Arthur Rumbelow there is one not mentioned in the 
 list above — a revolver and a box of cartridges. The 
 conspirators know it. They know also that the eyes 
 of Arthur Rumbelow are vigilant and that his long 
 white hands are very quick — a dangerous man even at 
 this early period. 
 
 Four years after this Arthur Rumbelow was the 
 owner of twenty-five Coco-nut Shies, and had a well- 
 appointed ofiice in the city of Smokeover. Every 
 month his operations extended and some competitor 
 was absorbed or driven out of the market. Coco-nut 
 shying was fast becoming not only a popular but a 
 fashionable sport; titled ladies and the wives of Cab- 
 inet Ministers might sometimes be seen taking their 
 turn with pot-boys and housemaids at the Rumbelow 
 stands. Wherever the great legend, "Rumbelow's 
 Mammoth Coco-nuts" displayed its folds, it was, 
 to the aristocracy, a guarantee of style, and to the 
 proletariate, of good value. 
 
 And so it went on until the rumour spread in finan- 
 cial circles that Rumbelow controlled the entire Coco- 
 nut Shying of the United Kingdom. Then the whole 
 
 33
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 country caught the fever and began to resound with 
 the crash of the falling nuts and the shouts of the 
 competitors. The invalid heard them on his couch, 
 the student at his desk, the worshipper in his church. 
 Professors of History compared it to the Dancing 
 Mania of the Middle Ages, and wrote articles in the 
 reviews. A new business sprang into existence under 
 Rumbelow's creative touch — that of providing pri- 
 vate "Shies" for country houses, seaside hotels, golf 
 clubs and Atlantic liners. A committee of sporting 
 Members of Parliament, egged on by the wife of a 
 Minister, commissioned Rumbelow to erect a "Shy" 
 in a basement room of the House of Commons, for 
 the refreshment of tired legislators. Bishops ordered 
 them for their palaces to keep the younger clergy 
 out of mischief at ordination times, while a certain 
 Dean, who had become a "dead shot" at the game 
 and a terror to the whole Church, suddenly sprang 
 into fame as one of the foremost theologians of his 
 time. Meanwhile Rumbelow, travelling en 'prince 
 in the South Seas, was buying up every coco-nut 
 plantation he could lay his hands on. 
 
 Then one day the news was flashed by cable that 
 Rumbelow has sold the whole concern. Shies, plan- 
 tations, goodwill and all, to an American syndicate 
 for a million dollars. The news fell like a thunder- 
 clap. From that moment the doom of Coco-nut 
 Shying, as a progressive sport, was sealed. Nothing 
 so intensely British could flourish under the Stars and 
 Stripes, and, beyond that, nothing the Americans had 
 to offer could make good the loss of magnetic con- 
 tact with the master mind of Rumbelow, which had 
 been from first to last the actuating force of the 
 
 34
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF RUMBELOW 
 
 whole development. And when later it became 
 known that the American syndicate was composed of 
 persons interested in the manufacture of chewing- 
 gum, and that their object was to develop its export 
 to the British Isles j and when boxes of this odious 
 commodity began to appear on British stands in place 
 of legitimate coco-nuts, the disgust and indignation 
 of the sporting public knew no bounds. Since then 
 all kinds of vile substitutes have been offered, and 
 Coco-nut Shying, as everybody knows, has gone to 
 the dogs. A case is on record of a fair in a north- 
 country town where the objects on the stands were, 
 not even boxes of chewing-gum, but — nefandum 
 dictu — frozen sheep's heads from South America! 
 Naturally the Shy in the basement of the House of 
 Commons has been cleared out, and the room is now 
 used for Lost Property. The dainty caravans have 
 been sold to enthusiasts for the Simple Life, and the 
 sweet challenge of the Silver Bugle is heard no 
 more. 
 
 On the close of this chapter in his history Rumbe- 
 low disappeared entirely from the public view. For 
 five years he remained hidden, and there is nothing 
 but conjecture to fill the gap. Some said that he 
 was lovemaking, a school in which so far he had 
 neither committed errors nor won distinctions. 
 Others that he had retired into the wilderness, that he 
 was meditating great things, and would presently 
 return on the wings of the storm. Others that he 
 was travelling on the Continent and secretly in- 
 doctrinating the unconverted nations in the Gospel of 
 Sport. Others that he was studying, under an as- 
 sumed name, in a foreign university. Others that 
 
 35
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 he had been shipwrecked on an island in the Southern 
 Seas and was married to a dusky bride. 
 
 In each and all of these rumours there lurked an 
 element of truth. For certain it is that when the 
 five years were elapsed Rumbelow suddenly re- 
 appeared on the Turf, accompanied by a woman of 
 extraordinary beauty, whom he introduced as his 
 wife. It was the great race meeting of the year, and 
 observers noticed that as Rumbelow moved about 
 among the Ambassadors and their wives on the Grand 
 Stand he conversed fluently with each in his own 
 tongue, while they, on their part, seemed to accept 
 the pair as members of their own fraternity. Some 
 thought that the lady was an American, judging by 
 the vivacity of her manner; others that she was a 
 Russian, judging by the brilliance of her beauty j 
 and this seemed to be confirmed when Mr. Rumbe- 
 low was heard to converse with the Russian Am- 
 bassador in that language. 
 
 The next news was that he had purchased the coun- 
 try seat of a nobleman, that a great architect was re- 
 modelling its defective features and building in the 
 castle grounds a private chapel or sanctuary in a novel 
 style, which some said was that of a Shinto temple j 
 that immense house parties, in which persons of every 
 class were mingled without social friction, were con- 
 stantly being entertained; that Rumbelow had made 
 a law that all inmates of the house, whether guests 
 or domestics, should address his wife as "My Lady"; 
 that this was willingly done both by Princes and 
 revolutionaries; and that a member of the Inde- 
 pendent Labour Party having once ventured to ad- 
 dress her as "Comrade" was promptly ordered to 
 
 36
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF RUMBELOW 
 
 pack up his traps. All this gave rise to much specu- 
 lation, which rose to fever height and spread all over 
 the world when it was noised abroad that the German 
 Emperor was spending a week-end in the Castle, and 
 that the Lord Chancellor was another of the guests. 
 
 Meanwhile great things were happening in the 
 neighbouring city of Smokeover, where Mr. Rum- 
 below still maintained his business headquarters. 
 Here he had entered into partnership with the bet- 
 ting firm of Stallybrass & Corker, of which he 
 quickly made himself the master. It was an active 
 and malign concern, but shamefaced, furtive and 
 obscure, hiding itself away in a back street. Under 
 the magic touch of Rumbelow's genius it underwent 
 a rapid transformation, both as to its inner character 
 and as to its outward manifestation, in a year's 
 time he had installed the business in a magnificent 
 block of offices on the corner site of two main thor- 
 oughfares, while a cloud of telegraph wires con- 
 centrating on the roof bore witness to world-wide 
 ramifications, and almost shut out the light of the 
 sun, never strong in Smokeover. 
 
 What was going on inside? One of the greatest 
 wonders of the age. Have you ever paused in the 
 midst of your scientific preoccupations and trembled 
 before the terrible truth that in human affairs, 
 whether on the large scale or the small, whether 
 in the fate of nations or the state of your own ner- 
 vous system, no man knows what is going to happen 
 next? On that high mystery Mr. Rumbelow's busi- 
 ness was founded. It had been revealed to him, 
 whether by inspiration from above or below no man 
 can say, that horse-racing is only one of a million un- 
 
 37
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 certainties on which men may gamble. He was 
 prepared to gamble methodically on most of them. 
 For example there was the Department of Poli- 
 tics. Here, if so disposed, you could bet with Mr. 
 Rumbelow on the fate of Ministries in your own or 
 any other country, on the issue of elections, on prob- 
 able majorities, on the chances of particular states- 
 men to get into the Cabinet or to be offered this 
 portfolio or that. You could bet on the chances of 
 So-and-so being made a bishop or a Regius Profes- 
 sor, and there was nothing to prevent the candidate 
 backing himself. If a measure was before Parlia- 
 ment you could bet on its passing into law. If a 
 revolution was threatened you could bet on its occur- 
 rence j if an agitation was in progress you could bet 
 on its success. Mr. Rumbelow was not only pre- 
 pared to bet with the public on these and a hundred 
 such-like things, but also to furnish the Press for an 
 adequate fee with accurate and absolutely trust- 
 worthy information of the way the public was bet- 
 ting j every night the cloud of telegraph wires was 
 alive with messages recording the daily odds. At 
 the time when Rumbelow was in his glory there was 
 hardly a leader writer in London or the provinces 
 who would have dared to compose his article without 
 a telegram from the great bookmaker at his elbow. 
 In the jargon of the journalists' clubs he was known 
 as "the barometer" J the question "How is the bar- 
 ometer to-night?" meant, "What are Rumbelow's 
 latest odds?" His influence on the Press was im- 
 mense. 
 
 It has been said, by an accomplished student of 
 human nature, that if ever a New Messiah should 
 
 38
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF RUMBELOW 
 
 appear in the midst of our confused and aimless civi- 
 lization, he would be regarded by three-fourths of 
 his contemporaries as an unmitigated scoundrel, and 
 not recognized in his true character until after he had 
 been cast out of the vineyard and killed. From this 
 we cannot argue, in strict logic, that all men whom 
 the world condemns as unmitigated scoundrels are 
 necessarily Messiahs. But it does seem to give a 
 chance to one of them. Was Mr. Rumbelow that 
 one? Perhaps the sequel will show. Certain it is 
 that at the stage of his evolution to which Mr. Rum- 
 below had now arrived no Churchman of any de- 
 nomination would have dared to risk his reputation 
 by spending a week-end with the bookmaker in his 
 country house. But he had round him a small band 
 of devoted disciples, some of whom were prepared 
 to maintain that he was the greatest Strategist of his 
 time. They affirmed — with what truth will be seen 
 hereafter — that he had taken in hand the two most 
 powerful forces of existing civilization, which are 
 cupidity and the love of gambling j that he had 
 harnessed them to the sciences, and that in doing 
 this he had betrayed a prescience wholly lacking in 
 those who condemned him. 
 
 39
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 Mr. Rumbelow's Business from Within 
 
 YOU are, let us suppose, a friend of Mr. Rum- 
 below, and have received from him a visiting 
 card on which he has written "Show this gentleman 
 over the Office and give him the fullest information. 
 To Heads of Departments. A. R." So, leaving your 
 motor in front of the great entrance, you pass into 
 a spacious hall adorned with pillars of coloured 
 marble, and are accosted by a stately commissionaire 
 to whom you show the card. "Which Department 
 will you see first, sir?" he asks. "Oh," you answer, 
 "the first that comes — any you like." He invites you 
 to enter the lift and stops at the first landing. Oyer 
 a glass door you see the words inscribed "Political 
 Department." "Wait a moment, sir, while I inform 
 the Head," says the commissionaire, and pointing you 
 to a luxurious arm-chair on the landing he passes 
 into the interior. 
 
 While you are waiting several persons come out 
 through the door. The first is a prominent politician 
 whom you know by sight. He enters the lift at once 
 and disappears, a little annoyed at observing that he 
 is recognized. The next is a young man with his 
 hands thrust into his pockets in a manner which 
 slightly over-emphasizes the rearward of his an- 
 atomy. He is an Oxford undergraduate: yes, he is 
 
 40
 
 MR. RUMBELOW'S BUSINESS 
 
 one you know. What has he been doing? Well, he 
 has been presenting testimonials from College Dons, 
 and explaining certain ambitions of his to the Head 
 of the Department. He makes no secret of it at all. 
 He is glad to say that his bet has been taken. "Noth- 
 ing like a bet, sir, for steadying your purpose. It 
 keeps you to it. Pve backed myself for fifty. I got 
 the tip from my tutor." In due course he will be 
 a Double First. 
 
 Amazed and bewildered by this revelation you 
 now enter the office. Something in the atmosphere 
 instantly warns you to be on your guard. You 
 feel instinctively that the place is full of the 
 subtlest temptations — perhaps a friendly dsemon has 
 whispered it in your ear. "Fortunately," you can 
 say to yourself, "I never bet." 
 
 You are received by a courteous and enthusiastic 
 gentleman in gold spectacles — the Head of the De- 
 partment. 
 
 "You have called at a fortunate moment, sir," he 
 says. "Just now we are engaged in launching a num- 
 ber of speculations of unusual interest and great 
 public importance, which I shall take a keen pleasure 
 in explaining, later on, to a personal friend of Mr. 
 Rumbelow. But before we come to particulars it 
 is essential that you should grasp the general prin- 
 ciples on which our business is based. Our business, 
 sir, has a philosophic foundation; it is, if I may say 
 so, saturated with the profoundest methaphysics, and 
 is conducted by a mind which is equal to their appli- 
 cation, a combination rarely to be found. Ideal aims 
 are here united with business-like method, and the 
 whole is directed by skill, by expert knowledge, by 
 
 41
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 intellect trained under the severest discipline known 
 to man — and behind it all the mind of Mr. Rumbe- 
 low, which I verily believe is one o£ the greatest 
 minds the human race has ever produced." 
 
 If you are a Christian you will be inwardly warned 
 by the manager's loyalty to his chief, but if you are 
 a cynic (which is more probable) you will smile 
 rather dryly at his exaggerations. 
 
 "How, I wonder, did these great ideas originate 
 in the mind of Mr. Rumbelow?" you will ask. 
 
 "By revelatiofiy" the manager will reply. "But I 
 perceive, sir, that I am overtaxing your credulity at 
 the outset. Pardon the mistake. Let us proceed 
 at once to view the working of the Office. And first 
 we will inspect the brain of the business in actual 
 operation — the great ganglion to which all the nerves 
 converge. I am about to show you our Mathematical 
 Department." 
 
 The manager now conducts you to the rear of the 
 vast building, far away from the noise of the thor- 
 oughfares in front. You enter a spacious and lofty 
 hall of fine proportions, rectangular in shape, save 
 for the apse which concludes the further end. A 
 gallery approached by stairs from below runs round 
 the walls, and thousands of books of reference, at- 
 tended by a staff of librarians, are ranged on the 
 shelves above. On the floor of the hall and on 
 either side are rows of small compartments, divided 
 from one another by screens of polished oak, ar- 
 ranged as private studies, fifty or sixty of them, each 
 with a telephone on the table. You can see the occu- 
 pants, who are of both sexes, bending over their work 
 and constantly putting the telephones to their ears. 
 
 42
 
 MR. RUMBELOW'S BUSINESS 
 
 Down the central aisle run long tables to which girl 
 messengers bring papers, which are received and 
 filed, or passed on, after inspection, by automatic 
 delivery to one or other of the compartments. In 
 the apse at the further end, on a dais, sits a solitary 
 figure whom no one approaches} a telephone re- 
 ceiver is attached to his right ear, kept in position by 
 a system of metal bands which encircle his great head 
 in a kind of cage. On the panelled wall behind him 
 hangs a silver bugle, the only decoration, and the 
 mascot of the Firm. The floor is thickly carpeted, 
 the workers wear rubber soles, the silence is pro- 
 found. The manager at your elbow speaks in the 
 lowest of whispers. 
 
 "The pick of the mathematicians of Europe," he 
 says, indicating the workers on either side of the 
 room. "Note the gentleman on the dais opposite. 
 He is our head mathematical expert. His salary is 
 five thousand a year. He has discovered four new 
 kinds of infinite and can work equations in six dimen- 
 sions; mathematical psychology is his specialty, and 
 the rapidity of his calculations is amazing. Note 
 that young girl in the compartment next but one 
 to the east end. A perfect marvel, sir, a Pole, a 
 great musician, and a mathematical genius. She is 
 at work on the caprices of the Woman's Vote — one of 
 the most puzzling speculations we have had to for- 
 mulate — and has discovered certain uniformities 
 which, as we shall apply them, will give us control 
 of over a hundred constituencies. Then the young 
 man in the light suit in the compartment opposite. 
 His subject is the Mathematical Logic of Bad Habits 
 — a department from which we expect great moral 
 
 43
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 results. The Head is at this moment correlating his 
 formulae with those of the Polish lady on the other 
 side. Now turn to the man in the third compart- 
 ment on the right. He is a Senior Wrangler and 
 can play twenty games of chess blindfold j he has the 
 fate of the Coalition Government this moment in 
 his hands. The man next to him is dealing with the 
 business of Canon Fairtemper, a small but interesting 
 speculation. Lower down observe that elderly 
 gentleman with the white hair — one of the deepest 
 and most delicate minds in the Office. He is study- 
 ing the intrigues of Lord Stringpuller — you may 
 have seen him leave the office just before you came 
 in — a disreputable adventurer whose political career 
 Mr. Rumbelow has determined to end. 
 
 "But the greatest marvel of all, the masterpiece, is 
 not here. It is in a small room beyond, where visitors 
 are not permitted to enter. Seven men, representing 
 seven great nations, sit there immersed in the pro- 
 foundest investigations. Ah, my dear sir, if you 
 could only see the development of those seven skulls, 
 you would get a new conception of the mental power 
 of the human race! The International Problem is in 
 their hands. They are working out the Chances of 
 War in all ages and have already produced astonish- 
 ing formulse, one of which I regret to say indicates 
 that we are on the eve of a terrible conflict. You 
 have heard our latest odds on the European situa- 
 tion? Three to one against peace! We wired the 
 German Emperor to that effect not an hour ago." 
 
 The manager now proposes that you should inspect 
 the Department of Capital and Labour. As you 
 thread your way along the carpeted corridors it occurs 
 
 44
 
 MR. RUMBELOW'S BUSINESS 
 
 to you to ask: "What was that affair of Canon Fair- 
 temper's which you mentioned just now in the Hall 
 of Silence?" The manager will reply: 
 
 "Canon Fairtemper, sir, has been marked out by 
 Mr. Rumbelow for perferment — a man of the 
 loftiest ideals and a well-equipped theologian. He 
 is heavily backed j but the opposition is also strong. 
 None the less Mr. Rumbelow has determined that he 
 is to be the next Bishop, and has woven a most deli- 
 cate net round the whole operation — a work of art I 
 assure you, a small thing but a perfect gem. Canon 
 Fairtemper has had to be kept in ignorance of what 
 was going forward, having certain prejudices which 
 seem to me not in keeping with his general broad- 
 mindedness. Hence our chief difficulties. But Mr. 
 Rumbelow has overcome them by a veritable master- 
 stroke. The result is as nearly certain as any sport- 
 ing event can be. It is one of the surest things on 
 our books. And that prompts me to make a sugges- 
 tion. If you should feel interested in the matter 
 and we could make it known that a man in your 
 position were backing our favourite, it would greatly 
 help us to steady the market, which has been wob- 
 bling most unreasonably during the last few days. 
 — You don't bet? I'm sorry to hear it, sir. But 
 here we are at the Department of Capital and Labour 
 and I must hand you over to my colleague, Mr. Hot- 
 black, our leading psychologist." 
 
 You will find Mr. Hotblack, the psychologist, 
 somewhat quicker than his predecessor in coming to 
 the point. He is more brusque in his manner and 
 has an unpleasant way of looking you up and downj 
 also, of looking at you out of the corner of his eye. 
 
 45
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 After a few preliminary explanations he will boldly 
 open out as follows: 
 
 "Our present odds against the Social Revolution 
 occurring in England during the next ten years are 
 2 to 1 . We can recommend this speculation as one of 
 the best forms of insurance against the confiscation 
 of private property. The method of procedure is 
 quite simple. You take our odds, 2 to 1, and back 
 the coming of the Social Revolution, say, for $10,- 
 000. The Revolution comes j we lose, you winj your 
 other property is confiscated by the revolutionaries, 
 but you receive from us $20,000 cash down — a use- 
 ful nest-egg for your old age and for your wife and 
 children. I advise you to do it at once." 
 
 "But surely," you exclaim, "this won't help me 
 much. The revolutionaries having confiscated my 
 existing property would make short work of the $20,- 
 000 I should receive from you?" 
 
 "Oh, would they?" Mr. Hotblack will reply, 
 breaking into an unpleasant and long-continued fit 
 of laughter. "There, my dear sir, you are mistaken. 
 You are evidently not aware that the mass of the 
 revolutionary party, including all its prominent 
 leaders and thousands of their followers, have se- 
 cured themselves against the coming of the revolu- 
 tion exactly as I am now advising you to do. They 
 would all be in the same position as yourself j if they 
 touched your winnings they would cut their own 
 throats J believe me they will never dare to do it. 
 Wherever the Red Flag waves, sir, our agents are 
 hard at work. In Russia, at the present moment, we 
 are doing an enormous business — the Chief has al- 
 ready made three visits to the country. Mr. Rumbe- 
 
 46
 
 MR. RUMBELOW'S BUSINESS 
 
 low, sir, has the whole movement in the hollow of 
 his hand. At the first move to touch your winnings, 
 or those of anybody else, he would publish the list of 
 his payments to the revolutionaries, a list that would 
 contain thousands of names, from every country in 
 Europe, and a counter-revolution would sweep them 
 out of existence in a day. I will tell you one of the 
 secrets of our trade, sir j for I observe that the Chief 
 wishes you to have the fullest information. A 
 revolutionist is almost invariably a gambler. We 
 study psychology in this Firm, sir." 
 
 "Still," you will persist, "I don't quite understand. 
 If the Social Revolution were to come, with your 
 odds 2 to 1 against it, Mr. Rumbelow would lose 
 millions, and would ensure his own ruin at the same 
 time as he insured the revolutionists." 
 
 "I am afraid, sir, you don't understand betting," 
 Mr. Hotblack will answer. "The odds on the social 
 revolution vary from country to country, and there 
 are twenty-seven countries on our list. We treat 
 each country exactly as we should treat each horse 
 in a racing event. Mr. Rumbelow has 'made a book,' 
 sir, and the art of making a book is so to adjust the 
 odds against each entry that whatever happens the 
 bookmaker is not only covered against loss but stands 
 to win. That is precisely what Mr. Rumbelow has 
 done. He has treated the problem internationally. 
 He has included the whole field. 
 
 "The principles on which we deal with the Social 
 Revolution," he will continue, "are of course of very 
 wide application j several of our leading Departments 
 are based upon them, and it will perhaps save you 
 trouble if I explain at once what they are. Mr. 
 
 47
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 Rumbelow, sir, has devised a system of Compensa- 
 tion for the Evils of Life, much more effective and 
 business-like than the Compensations provided by 
 Nature, which most people find so unsatisfactory — 
 doubtless you have read about them in Emerson. 
 Our Compensations, sir, are paid in coin of the realm, 
 cash down at a stipulated moment. The principle 
 is that you insure compensation, in money, for any 
 evil you may be afraid of, by betting upon its occur- 
 rence within a given time. Take, for example, our 
 Department of Life Insurance. We have reduced 
 Life Insurance to its simplest elements and stripped it 
 of all circumlocution. The evil you fear, in this case, 
 is death. Death is the Summary Evil of Life. Now, 
 sir, judging from your healthy appearance, I should 
 say at a guess that the odds are 5 to 1 that you will 
 live another twenty years. Very well. You back 
 yourself to die within that period — say for £1,000. 
 If you die within that period your heirs receive from 
 us £5,000. If you survive we win and make £1,000 
 cut of the transaction, which you can cover, if you 
 like, by yearly deposits, with us, of £50 — to be re- 
 turned to your estate, of course, along with the £5,- 
 000, if you win your bet. In this way you insure 
 a compensation for death, amounting to £5,000, for 
 £50 a year. There is no Insurance Company in the 
 world which can produce anything comparable to this 
 for cheapness and equity. 
 
 "Name almost any evil you choose, and you will 
 find that Rumbelow, Stallybrass & Corker are pre- 
 pared to take you on. You have, let us suppose, a 
 pretty daughter who has many admirers, and you 
 are afraid that she may end by marrying a scoundrel, 
 
 48
 
 MR. RUMBELOW'S BUSINESS 
 
 who will desert her and leave her a burden on your 
 hands. Put the available data before us, and our 
 Detective Department will take the matter up at 
 once. In a few days their reports will come before 
 me as Chief Psychologist, my deductions will be 
 made, passed on to the Mathematical Laboratory, 
 and an hour afterwards the odds will be scientifically 
 determined and telegraphed to you. They may be in 
 your favour or they may be against youj and you 
 will take your own course accordingly. Let us sup- 
 pose they are 3 to 1 against the dreaded mesalliance. 
 You then back the mesalliance for £1,000. Your 
 worst fears are realized, your daughter marries the 
 scoundrel, you win your bet, you receive £3,000 from 
 us, which you may now hand over to your deserted 
 daughter or keep for your own Compensation, as 
 you choose. Now, tell me frankly, can Nature pro- 
 vide you with any Compensation comparable to that? 
 Pardon the illustration j it is a particularly good 
 example of our method — a method, sir, which 
 in the opinion of many competent judges is the 
 nearest approach to a fracttcal solution of the 
 Problem of Evil so far discovered by the mind 
 of man. 
 
 "In all this, the Philosophy of the Firm inclines 
 somewhat, as no doubt you have observed, to the 
 side of William James and Professor Bergson. We 
 trade on the adventures of the universe. Our raw 
 material is the Unexpected, of which the supply is 
 unlimited and immense." 
 
 "Well," you reply, "I am no great psychologist, 
 but I imagine the result of this must be to make Mr. 
 Rumbelow an object of equal hatred to all parties. I 
 
 49
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 wonder he is not assassinated. I suppose he is 
 guarded by detectives." 
 
 At this Mr. Hotblack the psychologist can hardly 
 contain himself. He roars with laughter and chokes 
 with merriment. 
 
 "Ho! ho! ho!" he cries. "Really, my dear sir, you 
 don't understand — you don't understand these things. 
 I protest — you don't! Assassinated! Guarded by 
 detectives! Why, sir, Mr. Rumbelow is the most 
 loved and trusted man in the entire community. He 
 has millions of clients — millions among the working 
 men, tens of thousands among the capitalists, and by 
 one and all he is wellnigh adored. He is the living 
 link between Capital and Labour. Their admiration 
 for his skill is only equalled by their confidence in 
 his integrity. Between him and his clients the bond 
 of loyalty is sacred and reciprocal — a loyalty unique 
 on the face of the earth. Since the days of his boy- 
 hood Mr. Rumbelow's name has been a byword for 
 all that is straightforward, honourable and humane. 
 He has never swindled a client out of a halfpenny, 
 nor suffered a client to swindle a halfpenny out of 
 him. There is a halo round the head of the Chief, 
 sir. Assassinated! Guarded by detectives! Why, 
 if a hair of his head were injured the reprisals would 
 be appalling. In twenty-four hours Smokeover 
 would be a heap of smouldering ruins and calcined 
 human bones." 
 
 This makes you feel foolish: you have made an 
 absurd faux fas. You have little psychology j you 
 have less mathematics; you are not a betting man; 
 but all the same you have no relish for being thought 
 an innocent booby. You are shamefaced and con- 
 
 50
 
 MR. RUMBELOW'S BUSINESS 
 
 fused. What are you to do? Your evil genius 
 suggests an answer. 
 
 "Mr. Hotblack," you say, "I will back the Social 
 Revolution for ten pounds." 
 
 "Your name, sir?" says Mr. Hotblack quickly. 
 
 "Tangle," you reply. 
 
 Instantly Mr. Hotblack seizes his telephone; 
 makes connection with the Hall of Silence, and cries 
 into the instrument: "Mr. Tangle backs the Social 
 Revolution for ten thousand." 
 
 "Stop," you exclaim, "I said ten -pounds.^* 
 
 "I distinctly heard ten thousand" says Mr. Hot- 
 black. "We never allow a client to alter his stakes. 
 Besides, the figures have already been received in the 
 Hall of Silence and passed through twelve mathe- 
 matical processes while we are talking." 
 
 "It is infamous!" you cry; "I am not a client but 
 a visitor, making a little bet as a compliment to the 
 Firm. I shall contest it in a Court of Law." 
 
 "You will lose," says Mr. Hotblack. 
 
 "I shall write to the Times." 
 
 "The Times will not put it in." 
 
 "Then I shall inform Mr. Rumbelow. I am one 
 of his oldest friends." 
 
 "Oh, that is another matter," says Mr. Hotblack, 
 and then, speaking through the telephone, "Cancel 
 Mr. Tangle's bet." 
 
 You rise from your chair, and bidding Mr. Hot- 
 black a frigid good-morning leave the room. 
 
 On your way out you call in at the office of your 
 former guide, the courteous gentleman in gold spec- 
 tacles. In tones of indignation you tell him what 
 has happened. 
 
 51
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 "Mr. Hotbkck," he will say, "is certainly too 
 precipitate. But he is a devoted servant of the Firm, 
 a great psychologist and a reader of the human mind. 
 I should not be surprised to learn, sir, that your first 
 thought was ten thousand, not ten." 
 
 "Well, to tell the truth," you will say, "I did 
 think of ten thousand for a moment. But then I 
 remembered in time that I was not a betting man." 
 
 "Ah! I imagined as much. In reading the inner 
 mind of a client I have never known Mr. Hotblack 
 to make a mistake. But now, sir, what are your gen- 
 eral impressions of the Firm?" 
 
 "That the whole business is risky through and 
 through. At every moment you must face the pos-- 
 sibility of enormous losses." 
 
 "Unquestionably that danger exists; but we face 
 it with courage and confidence," says the manager. 
 "We have less reason to be nervous than any busi- 
 ness firm in the United Kingdom. You forget that 
 every single operation of the Firm involves a synop- 
 tic view of the whole business we are then and there 
 transacting. If, for example, you put half a million 
 on the maintenance of European Peace — I would not 
 advise it, though, as a matter of fact, we have such a 
 bet on our books at the present moment — if I say you 
 back Peace for half a million and a boy at the street 
 corner backs a race-horse for half-a-crown, the two 
 bets will be instantly correlated in the Hall of 
 Silence, by an expert in Differential Equations, under 
 a formula which covers the entire operations of the 
 Firm. In addition to which, sir, I must beg you 
 to believe that Rumbelow, Stallybrass & Corker are 
 not altogether without public spirit. We can face 
 
 52
 
 MR. RUMBELOW'S BUSINESS 
 
 losses in a Great Cause j but all, sir, under strict 
 mathematical regulation. If war breaks out, as now 
 seems inevitable — the odds against peace have gone 
 up during the last half-hour — -you will see what the 
 Firm can do in a Great Cause. It will cover itself 
 with glory. Mr. Rumbelow, sir, will become 
 immortal. He will tower above the ages, and 
 the British nation will find that it can build no 
 monument high enough to do honour to his 
 memory." 
 
 You listen bewildered} not to say repentant. By 
 your own confession you are not a betting-man; but 
 the atmosphere of the place has hypnotized you. 
 You are out of your depth, and had better retreat to 
 the safe ground of general principles. So you say: 
 
 "Your remark about the synoptic view struck me 
 as deeply interesting." 
 
 "It is an interesting point, sir," says the manager. 
 "It's just the point where we cut the knot. I've had 
 many conversations with Mr. Rumbelow about it, 
 and that's his way of putting the matter. As a 
 sociologist he attaches great importance to the synop- 
 tic point of view. All of us are taught to think 
 synoptically. A year's training in our office Mr. 
 Rumbelow regards as the finest preparation a man 
 could have for public life, and especially for high 
 callings." 
 
 But you have had enough. You thank the man- 
 ager for his courtesy and take your farewell with all 
 the dignity that your recent fall has left intact. 
 Your car is waiting for you outside, and the chauf- 
 feur, having smoked all his cigarettes, has gone to 
 sleep. 
 
 53
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 Such was Mr. Rumbelow's business when at the 
 height of its prosperity. Then came the war. 
 
 On the day after war was declared Mr. Rumbe- 
 low was at his office at nine in the morning. Sum- 
 moning the twelve Departmental Managers he gave 
 orders that pending the receipt of further instruc- 
 tions all business was to be stopped. Then, accom- 
 panied by Mr. Hotblack the psychologist, the chess- 
 player, and the Head Mathematical Expert, no 
 longer wearing his metal cage, he entered the Inner 
 Chamber, where the seven International Thinkers, 
 undisturbed by war's alarms, were at work in the 
 silence J and until six o'clock in the evening he re- 
 mained closeted with these Mighty Men. Their 
 deliberations ended, Mr. Rumbelow came forth with 
 a document, countersigned by each of the Mighty 
 Men, in his pocket j passed into the Hall of Silence j 
 took down the silver bugle from its peg behind the 
 Head Mathematician's chair; went home to his Castle 
 and dined alone with his beautiful wife. He laid 
 before her the Rumbelow scheme for winning the 
 war. 
 
 Next day he took the first train to London, and in 
 the course of the morning interviewed four members 
 of the Cabinet, all old clients of the Firm. With- 
 out circumlocution he informed each of them in 
 turn that if the Government would give him the 
 control of the telegraphs, the cables and the wireless 
 for three days he would stake the entire assets of 
 the Firm on a victorious issue in five weeks, laying 
 the odds at 1,000 to 1. "I will put the enemy in a 
 position," said Mr. Rumbelow, "in which he cannot 
 continue the war. I will shake the morale of his 
 
 54
 
 MR. RUMBELOW'S BUSINESS 
 
 civilian population. I will block his sources of 
 supply, I will undermine his governments, I will con- 
 fuse his plans, I will upset his finance. I will create 
 a state of affairs in which not a cannon can be 
 founded, not a cartridge filled, not a button sewed 
 on a soldier's tunic without my consent. I will par- 
 alyze the enemy in every nerve." A distinguished 
 Russian statesman, who accompanied Mr. Rumbe- 
 low at these interviews, was urgent that the offer 
 should be accepted without a moment's delay. 
 
 What happened next is lost in the impenetrable 
 darkness of Official Secrecy. The future historian 
 will search the Record Office in vain. But students 
 of the numerous private memoirs which have ap- 
 peared since the war will observe that those who 
 affected to control its conduct were haunted from 
 first to last by the spectre of Something-which-ought- 
 to-have-been-done, but was not done. Was this the 
 Rumbelow Plan? The world will never know. 
 
 That the Cabinet, if it ever considered the matter, 
 had good reasons for rejecting Mr. Rumbelow's 
 proposals nobody will doubt. Public opinion would 
 have been outraged. The Party Machine would have 
 been wrecked. The Ministry would have been forced 
 to resign. Hundreds of Members of Parliament 
 would have lost their seats. Labour would have 
 been furious. The Theory of the State would have 
 been fatally compromised. The dignity of our Par- 
 liamentary Institutions would have been affronted. 
 The Generals and the Military Correspondents 
 would have been in revolt. The week-end house 
 parties, the dinners, the political luncheons, would 
 have been in confusion. There would have been 
 
 55
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 riots in the West-end Clubs, the wives of Cabinet 
 Ministers would have become unmanageable and the 
 whole fabric of society would have been shaken to 
 its foundations. And what would the Nonconformist 
 conscience have said? That Mr. Rumbelow had 
 laid the odds at 1,000 to 1 that he could win the war 
 in five weeks was not an argument sufficiently strong 
 to set against calamities such as these. 
 
 And if these reasonings were not conclusive there 
 was something else 5 nay, there were two things more. 
 "Have you ever inspected the roof of Mr. Rum- 
 below's great office in Smokeover?" a friend will say 
 to you. "Well, we have, or rather a friend of ours 
 has, and we can tell you something. The roof is jiat; 
 it is composed of reinforced concrete seven feet thick, 
 and there are gun emplacements at the four corners. 
 Our friend has seen them. And a friend of his who 
 knows the engineer who installed the electric light 
 can tell you as a 'positive fact that the place has huge 
 cellars which are simply packed with big guns and 
 ammunition. Who is Rmnbelow? Answer that if 
 you can." 
 
 And here Is another friend who will enlighten you 
 still more explicitly. "My dear sir," he says, lean- 
 ing over confidentially to your side of the first-class 
 carriage, "if you think that Rumbelow, Stallybrass 
 & Corker are just a gang of mathematicians and chess- 
 players, all I can say is — bless your innocence! Rum- 
 beloWy sivy is a Jew. He is the head centre of a world- 
 wide Jewish plot against civilization. He is using 
 women as his decoys — his wife runs that part of the 
 business. Hundreds of women in Society are in his 
 toils. One of them told me at dinner last night, in 
 
 56
 
 MR. RUMBELOW'S BUSINESS 
 
 the Prime Minister's presence, how she had dis- 
 covered the plot in the nick of time. Her sister, who 
 is married to a high official in the German telegraphs, 
 had told her that for weeks past thousands of tele- 
 grams to Rumbelow, from Jew financiers, had been 
 pouring through Berlin. The code is a racing ver- 
 nacular, and appears to refer to some north-country 
 races. The Kaiser is implicated — probably as a vic- 
 tim. He wired to Rumbelow three times just before 
 the declaration of war. The scoundrel could do all 
 that he saidj he could win the war or lose it at his 
 pleasure J but whichever he did the downfall of 
 Christian civilisation would inevitably follow and the 
 Jews would have their heel on the neck of the whole 
 world. Why on earth doesn't the Government act? 
 All they need do is to send a couple of men down to 
 Smokeover with orders to cut through the wires over 
 Rumbelow's office." 
 
 That Mr. Rumbelow's offer was not accepted 
 events have proved j the rest remains in obscurity. 
 It is not until the Government informed him that his 
 premises would be required for the Ministry of Raw 
 Materials that we emerge on to the sure ground of 
 historical fact. The great building was taken over; 
 and those members of the expert staff who were unfit 
 for the field were provided, with a promptitude 
 which gave rise to some suspicions, with War Service 
 at home. 
 
 The seven Mighty Men were drafted Into the 
 Secret Service, with the exception of the German, who 
 narrowly escaped being shot as a spy and was finally 
 interned. The Polish genius became a censor of 
 Polish correspondence. The twenty-fold chess- 
 
 57
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 player was dressed in khaki and sent to a leather 
 factory in Walsall, where he was employed in tying 
 up straps in bundles of twelve. The Head Mathe- 
 matical Expert became Controller of Bacon. In this 
 manner the force of the Firm was dissipated and its 
 operations suspended for the time being. Some of its 
 more promising speculations were irretrievably 
 ruined. Canon Fairtemper lost the bishopric. Lord 
 Stringpuller got the portfolio for which he had 
 backed himself, and assisted in bringing about several 
 notable disasters to the British arms. 
 
 Under the new regime the magnificent office of 
 Rumbelow, Stallybrass & Corker soon became a very 
 different place. The cloud of wires overhead, so 
 taut and orderly under Mr. Rumbelow's administra- 
 tion, was adjusted to new destinations j they sagged, 
 intermingled and crossed j they seemed to announce 
 the confusion that reigned below. Muddy feet de- 
 filed the marble pavements, the patterns faded from 
 the Turkey carpets, the polished columns lost their 
 lustre, the grates were filled with torn paper, ends 
 of cigarettes, remnants of ham sandwiches and buns. 
 Where Science had once whispered her profoundest 
 secrets the fat contractor now chuckled and the in- 
 dignant manufacturer blasphemed. In the private 
 room once occupied by cool long-headed experts, 
 there now sat bewildered amateurs, who alternately 
 tore their hair and affected knowledge they did not 
 possess. Saddest of all the transformations was that 
 which passed over the Hall of Silence, where the 
 giggling flapper and the anaemic clerk now played 
 at hide-and-seek. 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Rumbelow himself received a 
 
 58
 
 MR. RUMBELOW'S BUSINESS 
 
 commission in the Guards and went to the front. 
 There his valour and ability soon made themselves 
 felt J insomuch that fond enthusiasts, innocent of the 
 laws of military promotion, began to prophesy that 
 he would become Commander-in-Chief of the 
 British Army. But Destiny had otherwise deter- 
 mined. He had risen no higher than the rank of 
 Major when a dangerous wound, received in the 
 neighbourhood of Delville Wood, ended his military 
 career. The Guards had been heavily attacked, they 
 were cut up and demoralized, when Major Rum- 
 below, counter-attacking with his old fury, blew a 
 silver bugle, rallied the remnants of his force, hurled 
 the Germans back into their trenches, and fell on the 
 parapet, shot through the body. 
 
 Meanwhile "My Lady," with a softened light in 
 her beautiful eyes and a thread or two of grey in her 
 wonderful black hair, sat on high in the Castle, look- 
 ing out towards the perilous Eastj often hearing the 
 low thud of the distant artillery borne on the winds 
 of night J and then retiring to her sanctuary, where 
 she would practise those strange exercises of hers 
 which, later on, proved so disconcerting to the theo- 
 logians. 
 
 59
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 
 Rumbelow's Feast 
 
 THE great business of Rumbelow, Stallybrass 
 & Corker remained, during the war, in a State of 
 suspended animation j its stately Office abandoned to 
 the incompetence of the self-important and polluted 
 by multitudes of unsportsmanlike feet — one huge 
 pandemonium of muddle, bad temper and mutual 
 obstruction. Meanwhile the Chief himself, pain- 
 drawn and wasted, was being wheeled up and down 
 the terrace of his Castle, attended by his beautiful 
 wife. 
 
 In the spring of 1919, the particular Ministry of 
 Confusion then in possession — the Office had changed 
 hands several times during the war — cleared out, to 
 the immense relief of the old caretaker, who was now 
 in the Smokeover hospital, dying of a broken heart. 
 Next day Mr. Rumbelow's car drew up at the main 
 entrance of the Office, and the Chief, leaning heavily 
 on the arm of his wife and walking slowly, entered 
 the building and inspected the abomination of deso- 
 lation that reigned within. 
 
 The armies of purification and order immediately 
 followed 5 Mr. Rumbelow seemed to have them at his 
 beck and call j painters, polishers, scrubbers, window- 
 cleaners innumerable J scaff^olds, ladders, buckets, 
 ropes, brushes, soap. Powerful hoses with great 
 
 60
 
 RUMBELOW'S FEAST 
 
 copper nozzles played right and leftj they squirted 
 water by the ton, it ran down the marble stairs in 
 cataracts, it hit you in the face and drenched you to 
 the skin. Every room was fumigated j for the local 
 bacteriologist had informed Mr. Rumbelow "that 
 the whole place had become a Microbe Exchange." 
 The Turkey carpets were taken to be cleaned and dis- 
 infected, in wagons 5 behind the wagons came the 
 sanitary carts of the Smokeover Corporation, lined 
 up in a row, to receive the loads of dust, ashes, torn 
 paper, broken crockery, empty boxes, half-smoked 
 cigarettes, match-tails, mouldy crusts, tea-leaves, 
 chicken bones, hair-pins, scraps of red tape, novelettes, 
 corks, eggshells, and rubbish of every sect and denom- 
 ination that poured from all parts of the building. 
 From basement to roof the cleansing work went onj 
 and high above the roof, clinging giddily to poles 
 and standards, were men stretching wires and beckon- 
 ing to one another in mid-air. They were restoring 
 Mr. Rumbelow's lines of communication with every 
 region on the face of the earth. 
 
 During the period of suspended animation the 
 great business was not altogether at a standstill j the 
 fires were damped down but not quite extinguished. 
 Even in the darkest days of the war, when the ameni- 
 ties of life were hardest to come at, a sporting gentle- 
 man could, on making due inquiries, find the means 
 of lodging a judicious bet with Mr. Rumbelow. 
 Several pirate concerns were started, and thousands 
 of letters were sent through the post bearing the 
 forged signature of the Firm. There was, so they 
 say, a small shop pretending to sell coffee and buns, 
 not far from Victoria Station, where officers and men 
 
 61
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 proceeding to the front could take the odds on their 
 chances of coming back alive j and a yet more secret 
 place, the drawing-room of a fashionable flat in 
 Mayfair, where ladies of uncertain reputation betted 
 on the lives of their "men." Both these concerns 
 broke their banks and vanished j which is sufficient 
 proof that Mr. Rumbelow had nothing to do with 
 them. Mr. Rumbelow never broke his bank, and, 
 though he vanished at the last, it was like Elijah in 
 a chariot of fire. 
 
 All this time Mr. Rumbelow kept in touch with his 
 misused experts and knew where every one of them 
 was to be found. Every Christmas during the war he 
 sent them cards, exquisitely drawn and painted by 
 his wife, on which the motto was inscribed, "Watch 
 and be ready. Let your lamps be burning and your 
 loins girded up." And each expert, as he looked 
 upon the words, would heave a sigh of longing for 
 the day when his Master would return. 
 
 And now it was coming to pass. The news spread 
 that the great factory that made no smoke, but did 
 more business than any, aye, even than Hooker & Co., 
 the mighty profiteers with the seven belching chim- 
 neys, was about to rekindle its fires. And a thrill of 
 expectation ran around the world. But all were not 
 pleased. 
 
 Often and often had the question been asked, even 
 in the days before the war, why the arm of the law 
 was not upraised against the malign operations of 
 Rumbelow, Stallybrass & Corker. Most people knew 
 the reason. Some never will. 
 
 Why, for example, did the police refrain from in- 
 terference? Because the policemen, including the 
 
 62
 
 RiJMBELOW'S FEAST 
 
 Chief Constable, were clients of Mr. Rumbelow in 
 one or other of his numerous Departments. Why 
 were the magistrates slow to act? For the same rea- 
 son. Why was it useless to put detectives to watch 
 the doors? Because the detectives all went inside. 
 Why did Members of Parliament take no notice of 
 the appeals of their constituents to bring up the 
 matter in the House? Because the said Members, 
 with an eye to the coming Election, had insured 
 themselves against the treachery of the said consti- 
 tuents by Mr. Rumbelow's arts. Why did great 
 newspapers refuse to take the matter up? Because 
 Mr. Rumbelow's odds were the best index they had 
 to the way the wind was blowing. Why was the 
 Church apathetic? Heaven only knows. 
 
 But now that this shop of iniquity was about to re- 
 open, now that this gin-trap of Beelzebub was again 
 set in the public highway, it was clear that somebody 
 must do something. And who or what more fitted 
 to do something than the Smokeover Branch of the 
 Society for Ethical Culture? The Branch resolved 
 to rouse public opinion by a whirlwind campaign. 
 
 The first step was to enlist Professor Pawkins' in- 
 comparable powers of moral invective. Professor 
 Pawkins, who held the Chair of Moral Science in 
 the local university, had recently become the Presi- 
 dent of the Society, under circumstances to be de- 
 scribed hereafter. The Professor disliked public 
 action, believing that the slow percolation of the 
 ideal was the true method of reform, but was at 
 length induced to draw up a Manifesto, which was 
 duly exhibited on the hoardings of Smokeover, with 
 a whisky advertisement on one side and a stabbing 
 
 63
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 scene from the cinema on the other. In this Mani- 
 festo Professor Pawkins, with an eloquence too fervid 
 to concern itself with the niceties of metaphor, called 
 upon Smokeover "to rise in mass to attack the open 
 sore in its midst, which was swallowing up the gains 
 of industry, upsetting economic relations, spreading 
 ruin broadcast and undermining house and home." 
 It was further announced that a Public Meeting 
 would be held in the City Hall on such a date, and 
 that a Monster Petition to both Houses of Parlia- 
 ment would await signatures. 
 
 The Public Meeting took place. All the members 
 of the Society were present, many of them on the 
 platform. In addition there were about thirty or 
 forty tramps of both sexes, who were just then enjoy- 
 ing the hospitality of Smokeover, attracted to the 
 meeting by the warmth of the City Hall; for the 
 night was cold, and so was the workhouse. They 
 seated themselves as near as possible to the heating 
 apparatus, where they went to sleep and distributed 
 fleas among the more respectable portion of the audi- 
 ence. And there was one other, to whom the police- 
 man touched his hat as he passed through the door, 
 an honour which he had not bestowed on anybody 
 else. This person entered just after the meeting had 
 begun and sat down at the further end of the Hall, 
 in the shadows under the gallery. 
 
 There were seven speakers, domestic and im- 
 ported; and the proceedings lasted two hours. When 
 all was over, the thunders of the captains and the 
 shoutings, the resolutions and the votes of thanks, 
 and the policeman had hustled the last tramp out of 
 the Hall, the Chairman sent for the Monster Peti- 
 
 64
 
 RUMBELOW'S FEAST 
 
 tion, which had been lying in the vestibule, that the 
 signatures might be counted and the extent of the 
 victory ascertained. The name that stood at the head 
 was Arthur Rumbelow, and below that the police- 
 man's. There were no others. 
 
 The Whirlwind Campaign was well launched and 
 ably supported J it passed from city to city, and gave 
 occasion for many eloquent speeches. But to rouse 
 the great British public to the point of taking moral 
 action is never an easy thing. And it so happened 
 that at this time nine other Whirlwind Campaigns 
 were sweeping the country against nine different 
 "open sores" on the body public. The organizers 
 of the nine condemned the Anti-Rumbelow cam- 
 paign as a nuisance, which indeed was their normal 
 attitude towards each other j it got in their way, 
 clashed with their meetings, took up the space in the 
 newspapers that was due to them and, as they said, 
 generally "queered their pitch." With ten Whirl- 
 wind Campaigns going on simultaneously about ten 
 "open sores" produced by ten different social diseases, 
 the public naturally became, first, confused, then 
 bored, then contemptuous, and finally cynical. While 
 Smokeover was attacking Mr. Rumbelow, Glasgow 
 would be attacking Whisky, Manchester would be 
 attacking Protection, Birmingham would be attack- 
 ing Free Trade, London would be attacking the 
 Rates, South Wales would be attacking Capital, Ire- 
 land would be attacking the Union, the Opposition 
 would be attacking the Government, and the Garden 
 Cities would be outroaring the carnivora for a Vege- 
 table Diet. For three days the public would attack 
 the first "open sore" presented to them, no matter 
 
 65
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 which; then, with slightly diminished vigour, they 
 would go on to the next ; and so on till they came to 
 the last, when the Great Divorce Case or the Great 
 Fight or the arrival of Mr. Charlie Chaplin would 
 furnish a timely diversion, and the whole lot would 
 be forgotten. Meanwhile the Representatives of the 
 People would watch the game from their Olympian 
 seats, and, leaving the ten Whirlwind Campaigns to 
 blow each other to a standstill, would pursue their 
 accustomed way, and quit London as usual on Satur- 
 days, some to ponder their intolerable burdens, some 
 to pray for divine guidance, and some to spend de- 
 lightful week-ends at country houses, playing golf, 
 tennis, bridge, hide-and-seek and catch-as-catch-can. 
 Needless to say the assault on Mr. Rumbelow came 
 to nothing, though Professor Pawkins expressed him- 
 self well satisfied with the launching of the Ideal, 
 which, he said, would slowly percolate into the com- 
 mon, or universal, mindj and he quoted the lines of 
 Emerson: 
 
 "One accent of the Holy Ghost 
 The heedless world has never lost." 
 
 As to the Monster Petition, the presence of Mr. 
 Rumbelow's signature at the head of a document 
 calling for his own suppression was open to various 
 constructions and had the effect of preventing other 
 people from signing. What was the Society to do? 
 It was a nice point in morality. Was Mr. Rum- 
 below's signature given in good faith? Some said 
 "yes," others "no." Was the policeman's in order? 
 Should he be reported to the Chief Constable? Some 
 said "yes," others "no." Finally, after long discus- 
 
 66
 
 RUMBELOW'S FEAST 
 
 sion, it was decided by a small majority of votes 
 that the signatures were not ex animoy and therefore 
 insignificant, except as ink. Both were accordingly 
 obliterated by a patent process which left no mark 
 on the paper. After that signatures were more easily 
 obtainable, though not many, and in due course the 
 document reached its destination and was brought 
 under the notice of the Prime Minister, nine others 
 arriving on the same day. The Prime Minister was 
 just then packing his trunks and his papers for Paris, 
 where, along with three other gentlemen, he was 
 about to decide the fate of a few hundred million 
 human beings j and being in a tremendous whirlwind 
 of his own, of which the public knew nothing and 
 which was carrying him Heaven knows whither, he 
 paid no more attention to the minor whirlwinds than 
 he would to a fly which had settled on his nose. 
 
 In the meantime, Mr. Rumbelow, undisturbed by 
 these excursions and alarms, had been rapidly push- 
 ing forward his sinister preparations for the reopen- 
 ing of his office. There was no advertisement, no 
 display, no announcement in the press j these adven- 
 titious aids to success Mr. Rumbelow needed notj 
 but it was to be a great event, and to be celebrated 
 in a manner worthy of a reunion so happy. To each 
 of his jubilant experts he sent a beautifully illumi- 
 nated card, the work of the same delicate hand as 
 before, inviting him to a banquet to be held in the 
 Hall of Silence on such a night. And not to the ex- 
 perts alone. To every soul connected with the vast 
 establishment a like invitation was sentj to the Heads 
 of the twelve Departments, to the sub-managers, to 
 the cashiers, to the telephone clerks, to the book- 
 
 67
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 keepers, to the telegraphists, to the women typists, 
 to the shorthand writers, to the girl messengers, to 
 the tall commissionaires, to the watchmen, to the 
 caretakers and to the very charwomen who scrubbed 
 the office floors. All received the same joyous greet- 
 ing j all were summoned in the same loving and 
 gracious terms to join in celebrating the Master's 
 return. For the wounded still in hospitals, for the 
 mutilated and crippled men in their homes, the care 
 was individual and minute. It was evident that My 
 Lady knew the name and condition of every one. 
 Mr. Rumbelow's motors, of which he had seven, 
 were to penetrate the suburbs and to wait at the 
 hospital doors: an invalid carriage would bring the 
 boy who had been shot through the back and was 
 paralyzed for lifej guides would be sent for the 
 blind J an attendant would feed the man who had 
 no hands J a trained nurse would accompany the 
 devoted old caretaker who was dying of a broken 
 heart. Is the old mother wistful of a gleam of joy 
 before the everlasting silence falls? Bring her, in 
 God's name! Is there a fair enchantress? Is there 
 a winsome daughter whose face you would have us 
 see? Let the bright lassie comej for whom you love 
 do we not love also? Are there children you cannot 
 leave? We are ready for them. Our good Mr. 
 Hotblack has turned his office into a Palace of De- 
 lights, and he himself will be there, the Great Magi- 
 cian, with live rabbits and fiery serpents in the crown 
 of his hat, which will chase you round the room 
 and turn into boxes of chocolate under your very 
 nose. Does any need a smart suit of clothes for the 
 festival? Let him go to the tailors and mention Mr. 
 
 68
 
 RUMBELOW'S FEAST 
 
 Rumbelow's name. Or a pretty frock? Let her go 
 to the dressmaker and say My Lady has sent her. 
 "Did she wish adornments — a chain round her neck, 
 roses in her hair, shoes with bright buckles on her 
 feet?" "Get them where and as you willj get them 
 in plenty and say: ' 'Tis My Lady's wish.' Let your 
 garments be shining, and your colours fair. For our 
 beloved Master is safe and sound." Thus she wrote, 
 in her own hand, to every one, according to the 
 minute particulars of each. 
 
 But not for merriment alone was the feast being 
 prepared. The Master had made it known that he 
 would speak to his loyal followers, that he would tell 
 them the History of the Firm and something of his 
 own life, and then, having gathered the past together 
 and looked to the rock from which they were hewn 
 and the hole of the pit whence they were digged, 
 would plunge into the future and unfold a vision of 
 the glories awaiting them. Then a health would be 
 drunk and the trumpet would sound. 
 
 Never was a banquet more nobly decked} majesty 
 and loveliness were the keynote of it. The Master's 
 conservatories had been ransacked, his orchid-houses 
 had been stripped, his beds of violets and lilies had 
 been swept as with a mower's scythe, to furnish the 
 flowers: there was not one too many and not one too 
 few. Along the tables, covered with the whitest 
 of napery, lay fluctuating rivulets of scarlet leaves, 
 tendrils gathered from a precious tree, which broke 
 into graceful curves round the space allotted to every 
 guest. Down the middle ran the flowers, not 
 huddled together, as the manner is with some, but 
 freely spreading on long stems and seeming to fall 
 
 69
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 towards the beholder and beckon him; they were of 
 every hue and their odours filled the air. There 
 were three hundred guests and each had his own par- 
 ticular flower, different in race or in colour from all 
 the rest 3 no two were alike. There was a white rose 
 for the Head Mathematical Expert j there was a 
 fiery cactus for Mr. Hotblack. The charwoman 
 found before her a rare orchid from Brazil, a marvel 
 of colour, having the wings of an angel white and 
 gold, which flower was by her most tenderly carried 
 home and kept alive in the neck of a bottle for 
 three weeks to the delight and wonder of the street. 
 All knew the hand that had done these things. 
 
 At either end was a raised platform and a high 
 table dressed thereon. At the one sat the Master 
 with the Twelve Heads on either side of him; and, 
 lest the curse of thirteen should alight, there was 
 place reserved for another. Wonder at this, O ye 
 curious, for wonder is the beginning of wisdom! 
 Our present discords shall make the sweeter music 
 ere the feast is done. 
 
 At the other table sat the Seven Mighty Men, 
 Masters of Adventure, Lords of Contingency, Privy 
 Councillors of the Unforeseen, each beneath the flag 
 of his nation — the British, the American, the French, 
 the Italian, the Russian, the Japanese; aye, and the 
 German too, black, white and red. It faced the Mas- 
 ter, his soldier's harness on his back and his wound 
 still aching; he looked upon the flag without abhor- 
 rence, honouring the high gifts over which it waved, 
 as a soldier should; nor was there one in that com- 
 pany, mutilated or whole, who would have ques- 
 tioned the fitness of these things. For this also was 
 
 70
 
 RUMBELOW'S FEAST 
 
 My Lady's doing, and the seal of beauty was on all 
 her works. 
 
 On a stage below were the workers in the Hall of 
 Silence, the Head Mathematical Expert in their 
 midst, each with his high gift burning bright and 
 shining upon his neighbour. Here was far-sighted 
 Calculation with long head and steady eye. Here 
 was the careful face of old Experience. Here was 
 the Beauty of Competence, lithe-handed and alert. 
 Here was a youth stalwart and dexterous; there a 
 girl, like one of the living creatures in EzekiePs 
 vision, all fire, light, colour, loveliness and velocity. 
 
 The mutilated men sat apart. Among them My 
 Lady had gathered her choicest flowers and there was 
 a hundred pounds in money under the plate of every 
 one. 
 
 And now the feast has begun and the company is 
 in full cry. Many are the strains of joy and merri- 
 ment; many the vicissitudes of repartee; now vary- 
 ing with occasion, now prompted by personality; but 
 through them all love for the Master is the funda- 
 mental note, softening all voices, purifying all 
 laughter, ennobling all wit. Good it is to see the 
 grave faces of the Seven Mighty Men, transfigured 
 and radiant; or the Head Mathematical Expert, un- 
 burdened by the cares of thought, his wit sparkling 
 like a diamond; or the blithe spirits of the Polish 
 Genius glancing darkly under her braided brows; 
 or the comely frocks of the young girls and the lights 
 of love and joy dancing in their bright eyes. Good 
 also to hear the roars of laughter from the Twelve 
 Heads, under the leadership of Mr. Hotblack, as the 
 Master tells them the story of the Monster Petition. 
 
 71
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 Better still to enter the shadows under the gallery 
 and watch My Lady waiting upon the mutilated men, 
 or bending over the paralyzed boy and promising she 
 will teach him to paint. And best of all to visit the 
 old caretaker, who has hardly turned his gaze from 
 the Master since they brought him forward in his 
 wheeled chair, and to hear him say, in tones which 
 touch the heart and come from it, "Lord, now lettest 
 thou Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have 
 seen Thy salvation." 
 
 The feast is ended j the Master has risen in his 
 place j all voices are hushed. Clear, vibrant and 
 solemn are his words: 
 
 "Let us reverence the dead!" 
 
 There is a rustle of rising figures j a clatter of 
 crutches suddenly seized and planted on the floor; 
 the men in wheeled chairs cover their faces j the 
 paralyzed boy closes his eyes; My Lady, dressed in 
 shining white, kneels by his side. Then Silence, save 
 for a low and continuous humming in the cloud of 
 telegraph wires overhead, which all hear, and each 
 interprets as he will. Suddenly the tension is re- 
 lieved. A soft note, hardly to be distinguished from 
 the humming overhead, but gradually increasing till 
 it becomes a clarion call, breaks out from some hidden 
 place. It is the Silver Bugle blowing triumphant 
 music. 
 
 The last echoes die away; all are expectant and 
 silent; the First Toast is coming and it is My Lady 
 who will speak. 
 
 She has taken the vacant place by the Master's 
 side, and stands there, clothed in radiance: her girdle 
 a flaming scarlet, her hair black as the tents of Kedar, 
 
 72
 
 RUMBELOW'S FEAST 
 
 a single diamond blazing like a star above her 
 brows — a woman sent from God. 
 
 "In all ages," she cries, "men have poured out liba- 
 tions to the Invisible, wine and oil and precious oint- 
 ments and blood. The powers of the Invisible are 
 with us to-night. They are riding on the wings of 
 the wind that blows over this city. We can hear 
 their still small voices calling to us from above in the 
 humming of the wires. To them I raise my glass. 
 I drink to the city that hath foundations. I drink 
 to the Communion of Saints — the dead, the living, 
 the unborn. I drink to the Church Militant and to 
 the Church Triumphant. I drink to the New Jeru- 
 salem coming down from heaven like a bride made 
 ready for her husband. I drink to the universal 
 brotherhood of man." 
 
 All bow the head. In the solemn hush that fol- 
 lows the night wind gathers force and the humming 
 of the wires grows louder and more musical. 'Tis 
 the only reply. All hear it, and each interprets as 
 he will. 
 
 Next comes the Motto of the Firm, and who but 
 the Master can speak to this? The words of it were 
 his own; the spear-head of his purpose, the arrow 
 of his desire, the winged messenger of his imagina- 
 tion — his call, his slogan, his battle cry, and the pre- 
 lude to his mighty deeds. This was the Motto: 
 
 "Ideal Aims, Businesslike Methods, Sportsman- 
 like Principles" 
 
 He spoke of the beginning, of the middle and of 
 the end: of the birth of the Firm on a dunghill j of 
 the foul juices that fed its roots j of their translation 
 
 73
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 into life and growth and power j of the metabolism 
 of the spirit J of the spreading of the tree till its roots 
 were beside all waters and its branches covered the 
 earth J of the hour coming swiftly, when the Firm, 
 like the tardy cactus which blossoms after a hundred 
 years and is all thorns and ugliness till then, would 
 cover itself with lordly flowers and astonish the 
 desert places with beauty. 
 
 He spoke of the kingdoms of this world, and of 
 their perishable foundations j and then of the deeper 
 foundations of the Firm, of the indefeasible loyalty 
 of its members to one another, of their union in the 
 sportsmanlike spirit, of their co-operation in the 
 businesslike method, of their solidarity in the ideal 
 aim. 
 
 He spoke of revolutions: how they revert to the 
 type of that which they destroy and so destroy them- 
 selves} how the Firm had no part in these vicious 
 circles, having its eyes set upon a city with founda- 
 tions, of which the pattern had been shown it in the 
 Mount. 
 
 "Great Companions," he cried, raising his hand 
 towards the Seven Mighty Men, "I summon you 
 to a new enterprise — perhaps the last. Concentrate 
 your sciences! Organize your high thoughts! Ex- 
 plore the hidden ways! Meditate on the mighty 
 works of the past, on the triumphs you have won 
 against tremendous odds, on the deeds deemed im- 
 possible that you have done, on the mountains you 
 have overturned by the roots, on the sufferings you 
 have embraced as your right and transmuted into 
 joy. It shall be so again. But not scatheless shall 
 we emerge. Death and suffering must mingle with 
 
 74
 
 RUMBELOW'S FEAST 
 
 the game. But what then? Think of the heroic 
 dead whose presence has been with us to-night. What 
 matters the worst if we meet it as sportsmen should?" 
 
 Then he would have spoken of My Lady, and of 
 her excellence among women — the guardian angel 
 of the Firm. But he was overtaken by a storm. At 
 the sound of her name a divine madness rushed upon 
 the assembly like a mighty wind. The multitude 
 sprang to its feet, wild with joyj some shouted, some 
 sang, some danced, some laughed, some babbled 5 the 
 mutilated men banged their crutches on the floor 
 till they were weary j the paralyzed boy half raised 
 himself; the Seven Mighty Men cried Ha! Ha! 
 and to end all the player of the Silver Bugle stepped 
 forth from the shadows and blew his gayest music. 
 
 What a merrymaking then followed! The spirit 
 of Joy, which builds the soul into a house of many 
 mansions and makes sweet music in every one, held 
 sway over the company like a good priest over his 
 flock, and claimed the humblest guest as a communi- 
 cant. Dance on, ye happy souls, in the shining 
 meadows of your dreams! 
 
 The revels are ended and the guests bestir them- 
 selves to depart. By the door stands My Ladyj be- 
 hind her is a bank of greenery, dark myrtles and 
 bright ferns. The last to pass out is the old care- 
 taker, in his chair, wheeled by the nurse. My Lady 
 looks in his face, bends over him, takes a red rose 
 from her girdle and places it in his hand; and her 
 voice as she bids him farewell trembles with love. 
 The old man answers not a word but reverently kisses 
 her hand. Then the nurse fares forward with her 
 charge into the lighted streets. 
 
 75
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 The streets are crowded j multitudes are pouring 
 out from the theatre, the cinema, the public-house; 
 the boys are crying the evening papers; the night 
 walkers are plying their trade; the sons of Belial are 
 abroad. Great buses charge along the highway; 
 motors flash hither and thither, emitting their fumes 
 and sounding their horns. The good nurse, piloting 
 her little carriage, must needs walk warily, now push- 
 ing it along the pavement, now, when the press is 
 thicker, in the perilous highway; and with quick eyes- 
 right and left at the crossing of the streets. But the 
 night is clear and the stars are bright. 
 
 And now they reach the hospital, all dangers 
 passed. The nurse, leaving her station behind the 
 chair, steps forward to ring the bell, for it is late. 
 That done, she turns round to look at her charge and 
 to speak of their happy arrival. The old man is 
 dead; his white hands are on the coverlet, one with 
 the fingers extended, the other tightly grasping My 
 Lady's rose. 
 
 Here the Legend of Rumbelow the Betting Man 
 came to a close. A t first the Voice had sfoken clearly , 
 rising at certain foints into tones so loud and ringing 
 that all Smokeovery had it been awake, would have 
 heard. But the time was the dead of night. Smoke- 
 over was in a deef sleep, and save for the Author y 
 the Bridge was deserted. 
 
 At the last, when telling of the old caretaker's 
 d.eath, the Voice had sunk into a low and solemn 
 whisper, almost inaudible, and the Author had m-uch 
 ado to hear what was said. Moreover there was con- 
 fusion of sounds, hong before the end came, the 
 
 16
 
 RUMBELOW'S FEAST 
 
 Author had been aware that several Voices were striv- 
 ing to make themselves heard. He -perceived that 
 more Legends than one had cotne to the Bridge^ all 
 connected together and all eager to speak. Once^ 
 when the Voice mentioned the name of Hooker ^ the 
 great profiteer, another narrative began to m,ingle 
 With the -first y so that the Author had difficulty in 
 keeping the two disentangled. This Voice was the 
 m^ost intrusive of all that were striving to speaky and 
 it may be that the Author y in spite of his care to keep 
 the two distincty has introduced into the first Legend 
 certain matter which belongs to the second. At all 
 events the old caretaker had hardly breathed his last 
 when the Second Voice took up its parable. It an- 
 nounced the Legend of the Mad Millionaire. 
 
 77
 
 PART TWO 
 
 The Legend of the Mad Millionaire
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 Smokeover Grows Rich 
 
 nPHE great city of Smokeover, judged by the 
 ■^ smoky standard, did well out of the war. But 
 beyond the canopy of smoke, now denser than ever, 
 the stars shone down with an angry light. 
 
 Both extremes of the community pillaged the State 
 to their hearts' content. They had their excuse; they 
 could hardly help it; for the State encouraged the 
 pillage. The loot was enormous, grotesque, suffo- 
 cating. The wages of the workers went up by leaps 
 and bounds; they stared at them in amazement; they 
 were drunk with money; they struck for more; and 
 their spending was as foolish as their earning was 
 immense. A riveter's wife would pay £70 for a seal- 
 skin coat — a bad one; a moulder would buy a piano 
 which he could not get into his house and had to keep 
 in the back yard; a boy would light his cigarette with 
 a ten-shilling Treasury Bill; the child of a puddler 
 would be sent to school in a pair of gold spectacles, 
 to be broken immediately and replaced by another 
 next day; the miners had their private cars; the 
 jewellers' shops were packed on Saturday nights with 
 working girls. Nobody paused to think that in a 
 year or two all these things would assuredly find their 
 way to the pawnbrokers. The day of the workers 
 had come and they were making the most of it. 
 
 81
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 Nor were their lords and masters behind them. 
 The same post that brought a man news at his private 
 house that his only son had been blown to bits, or 
 drowned in a submarine, would deliver, at his office, 
 cheques from the Government to the tune of a hun- 
 dred thousand. He, no less than his employees, was 
 at a loss what to do with his money. To whom was 
 he to leave it, now that his only son was gone? How 
 was he to spend it? He could not pull down his 
 barns and build greater — for the builders were all 
 fighting. He would buy a country seat. He didn't 
 want one, but he would have it all the same, and sell 
 if he got tired of it. Besides, his wife and daughters 
 would like it ; perhaps later on somebody would make 
 him a Baronet. Yes, he would subscribe heavily to 
 the Party funds, when the war was over. For the 
 rest he would take up the War Loan. What if the 
 State went bankrupt? He didn't care; the whole 
 world was bankrupt, his own life included. And he 
 felt ashamed of himself when he thought of what 
 was going on at the Front. Making money in heaps 
 while those poor fellows were being slaughtered in 
 heaps and his own flesh and blood was being tor- 
 tured. In the night he would dream of heaps, of 
 piles, of mountains: mountains of corpses on this 
 side, mountains of money on that. There were times 
 when these men loathed themselves. There were 
 times, again, when they were bored to death by their 
 ever mounting accumulations. 
 
 "Do you know," cried one of them as he drank 
 champagne with his companions at the Conservative 
 Club, "do you know what I would thank God for?" 
 "We can't imagine you thanking God for anything," 
 
 82
 
 SMOKEOVER GROWS RICH 
 
 was the answer. "Well," he said, "I would thank 
 God for a Capital Levy." 
 
 Another said: 
 
 "Where's the sense of making money in this way? 
 They just fitch it at you. Why, you can't even do 
 'em in. Last week I quoted 'em my stuff at 30j. a 
 hundred- weight j that's a profit of 200 per cent.j 
 and, by God, I got a letter by return of post offering 
 me ^iSs. I've sold 'em a thousand tons at that price. 
 I tell you, there's no S'port in it. It isn't good enough 
 for the kiddies to play at." 
 
 "If you want sport," said his companion, "why 
 don't you go in with Rumbelow? He'll give you a 
 run for your money." 
 
 "Oh, that's another line altogether. Rumbelow's 
 in Art J I'm only in business. But I'll tell you 
 another thing. They ought to have let Rumbelow 
 run this show. They say he made 'em the offer. 
 He'd have saved the country thousands of millions. 
 Good for us they didn't take him on! If they had, 
 your old Dutch wouldn't be blazin' with diamonds, 
 and me and you wouldn't be swillin' Heidsieck at 
 two guineas a bottle. By the way, how's that lad of 
 yours on the minesweeper?" 
 
 "Not heard from him for a month." 
 
 "Fishy, ain't it?" 
 
 No, for all its roaring wealth and flowing cham- 
 pagne Smokeover was not a cheerful place, seldom 
 visited by the sun at the best of times, and now over- 
 shadowed by the black wings of the Angel of Death. 
 That woman who bought the sealskin coat. What 
 was her motive? The love of finery, think you? 
 Hear what she said to her neighbour over the back- 
 
 83
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 yard fence. "I've done it, Mrs. Perkins, to spite 
 God. I prayed him awful to spare our Joe. And 
 now he's just been killed. I'm going to get a bit of 
 my own back again out of the old monkey." That 
 girl who has had an illegitimate child. Light-of- 
 love, say you? Her own version is different. "I 
 knew my Bill would never come back. . . . And I 
 wanted him to leave me a remembrance." . . . 
 
 Among the many admirable "movements" for 
 which the City of Smokeover was famous, was the 
 Branch of the Society for Ethical Culture already 
 mentioned by the other Voice. In one of the local 
 directories it appeared under the head of "Places of 
 Worship" j in another under the head of "Clubs and 
 Societies." The members of the Branch were 
 divided among themselves as to which of the two was 
 the correct caption for their "movement" j but the 
 discussion of the matter had proved so acrimonious 
 and absorbed so much of the intellectual energy 
 needed for greater things, that finally the question 
 was dropped by common consent and the two direc- 
 tories left to have it their own way. It was a pecul- 
 iarity of the Ethical Society, at least of its Smokeover 
 Branch, that the members could never agree as to 
 whether their cult was "a religion" or something 
 else. 
 
 The Smokeover Ethical Society was active and 
 enlightened j but it was small, and obstinately refused 
 to grow larger. A Society more up-to-date in the 
 programmes it offered to the public you could not 
 imagine; the last thing out in science, politics, phi- 
 losophy and social reform was always its theme. The 
 
 84
 
 SMOKEOVER GROWS RICH 
 
 members were most excellent people, with a leaning 
 perhaps to the iconoclastic sidej several professors 
 of the local university were among themj there was 
 the headmistress of a leading school j the Warden of 
 the Women's Settlement; a radical lawyer; a dentist j 
 a banker's clerk; a male designer of women's frocks; 
 several spiritualists; two labour agitators; three or 
 four argumentative working men; and last, but not 
 least, a beaming champion of the Simple Life, who 
 lived in a caravan, and nourished himself on crushed 
 oats which he ate out of a nose-bag, like a horse, 
 thereby avoiding the use of crockery. His name was 
 Whistlefield. 
 
 These persons were intent on a great moral refor- 
 mation. But, alas, the public at large showed no 
 eagerness to be morally reformed, for it is only the 
 moral who are interested in morality! Lecturers of 
 great ability were brought in from all parts of the 
 country, and sometimes a crowd would be gathered; 
 but next week, when there was local talent on the 
 platform, only the stalwarts of the Society would be 
 present. The stalwarts, moreover, were not all like- 
 minded; they had the fiercest arguments among 
 themselves and the meeting generally broke up with- 
 out any conclusion being registered. 
 
 Then came the war, and with it a breath, or rather 
 a blast, of new life began to stir the Ethical Society. 
 "Reconstruction" was in the air, and at this magic 
 word morality seemed to rise from the dead and to 
 become positively attractive. The Society took up 
 Reconstruction. It began to reconstruct everything 
 in the heavens above and on the earth beneath; and 
 the public was excited. Never before had such pro- 
 
 85
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 grammes been offered to Smokeoverj never before 
 had such audiences gathered to hear them developed. 
 In one winter the Society reconstructed Religion, 
 Morality, Education, Finance, Government, the 
 Church, Literature, Philosophy, International Poli- 
 tics, Art, Housing, Agriculture, Manners, Dress, 
 Marriage, the Family, Labour, Capital, Diet, the 
 Drink Trade, the Universities and the Elementary 
 Schools. Name anything of importance and the 
 Committee would immediately put it into the hands 
 of an expert reconstructor and announce a public 
 address. For in those days Reconstruction was a 
 roaring lion, seeking what and whom it might devour. 
 It was like the lion in The French Language Made 
 Easjy which "ate up the clergyman's boots and my 
 grandmother's inkpot," and presumably the clergy- 
 man and my grandmother as well. 
 
 One lecturer would reconstruct Smokeoverj his 
 successor, next week, would reconstruct the Universe j 
 but nobody asked whether Smokeover as recon- 
 structed by the first gentleman would fit in with the 
 Universe as reconstructed by the second; enough 
 that both were to be pulled to pieces and then put 
 together on a new model. Indeed the most casual 
 inspection of these reconstructions revealed that they 
 were all at sixes and sevens, and that any attempt to 
 carry them out would result in a general melee. At 
 the time, however, it was as much as your reputation 
 was worth to call attention to this, for the recon- 
 structors were a touchy generation; so the point had 
 to be passed over in silence. 
 
 In all this the Society's attitude towards the war 
 was thoroughly patriotic. By way of interlude to the 
 
 86
 
 SMOKEOVER GROWS RICH 
 
 general orgy of Reconstruction, lectures were intro- 
 duced on "The Fundamental Righteousness of the 
 Allied Cause" J it was proved to the hilt by experts 
 in righteousness j and the point was laid down again 
 and again that, unless "we" won the war, the world 
 would be reconstructed, not by "us," but by the 
 Germans, a calamity not to be thought of. This way 
 of putting things was resented by the pacifists of the 
 Society, and the two Labour agitators resigned. 
 
 Yet these things, like many another grotesque 
 phenomenon, were not without their deeper root 
 in the tragic soil of human life. It was a dark and 
 terrible timej Ramah was filled with lamentation, 
 and Rachel was weeping for her children. Beneath 
 the wandering intellect was the broken heart, which is 
 the same whether you live in a slum or a palace, in 
 Smokeover or Essen, in London or Berlin. Every- 
 where the phenomena were alike and the causes iden- 
 tical. Some would seek their consolation in the mut- 
 terings of wizards j some became the neophytes of 
 strange religions; some ran to the Crucifix and em- 
 braced it; while others, more numerous than all the 
 rest, turned angrily on the world that had smitten 
 them so cruelly, and would have broken it to pieces. 
 Hence that fever of the public mind which they 
 called Reconstruction. It spoke the language of 
 social science ; it was discussed and elaborated by men 
 without emotion; a "Ministry" was formed to carry 
 it on; but within all this lay the agony of a dis- 
 illusion, the delirium of a broken heart. The Society 
 for Ethical Culture was no exception. 
 
 The first President of the Smokeover Branch was 
 Mr. William Hooker, M.A., J.P., a public-spirited 
 
 87
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 citizen, a man of commanding presence and dignified 
 countenance. He was a manufacturer of clocks. The 
 business had been founded by his great-grandfather 
 at the end of the eighteenth century, and passed from 
 father to son until in the year 1895 it came into the 
 hands of William Hooker. It had an unbroken 
 record of prosperity, having moved with the times, 
 as a clock factory should. In 1914 it was in full 
 swing. It employed 500 operatives, who were well 
 paid, and had a yearly output of 5,000 clocks with a 
 high reputation for excellence all over the world. 
 The "works" stood on the very edge of the City, with 
 a slum area on one side and wide open ground on 
 the other. 
 
 The average net profit to the firm, after all the 
 costs of production had been paid, was 8j. on each 
 clock; and as all this went into the pocket of Mr. 
 Hooker he had a clear income of £2,000, an amount 
 which maintained a remarkable uniformity from year 
 to year, good times and bad. His clocks found a 
 ready market even when other trades were slack, 
 and they leapt over the tariffs of foreign nations. 
 
 Mr. Hooker's friends often urged him to increase 
 the business. But he had no desire to do this; having 
 other pre-occupations. Moreover, his social con- 
 science being tender, he was afraid of becoming over- 
 rich. Even as it was, he would often ask himself 
 uncomfortable questions. But he had made a calcu- 
 lation, and found that were the whole of his profits 
 to be distributed among the work-people their wages 
 would be raised only one shilling and sixpence a week 
 all round. This, he thought, would not make much 
 difference to them, though perhaps the "system" 
 
 88
 
 SMOKEOVER GROWS RICH 
 
 might be wrong which, every year, brought five 
 thousand times eight shillings into the pockets of one 
 man. On the whole, the sum was not excessive as a 
 charge for the management of so large a concern, 
 though he had to confess that the actual labour of 
 management was light, the business having been so 
 well constructed and wound up by his forbears that 
 it ran like one of his own clocks. Mr. Hooker had 
 also read Ruskin. It pleased him, therefore, to 
 think of his good, honest, comely clocks, and of the 
 benefits they conferred upon mankind. "At this 
 moment," he would sometimes reflect, "there are 
 hundreds of thousands faithfully ticking in many 
 lands. They are reminding my fellow men of Time 
 and Eternity, of Duty to be done, of Life and of 
 Death. They are speaking the Truth. They are 
 registering the order of the world and contributing 
 to its maintenance. They are doing moral work." 
 Thus, on the whole, his conscience was at ease. 
 
 Ail that is best in a nation of shopkeepers was rep- 
 resented in the traditions of the Hooker family — 
 brains, rectitude and kindness of heart. The finances 
 of the shop were sound; it was exceptionally clean 
 in its appointments and in its personnel; the goods 
 were of the very best, and the buyer could always 
 count on promptitude, fairness and courtesy. Shop- 
 keeping of this character is apt to develop a certain 
 moral earnestness, which pervades the shop like an 
 atmosphere and descends from father to son. Need- 
 less to say the Hooker family were originally 
 Quakers. 
 
 Mr. Hooker combined the advantages of a Uni- 
 versity education with those of a business training. 
 
 89
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 His father, intending him for the business, had sent 
 him in the 'eighties to Cambridge, where he studied 
 Political Economy and graduated with high distinc- 
 tion in Mental and Moral Science. But his religious 
 beliefs fell away and he ceased to call himself a 
 Quaker, or even a Christian. This, however, only 
 served to increase the moral earnestness which a 
 Christian ancestry had instilled into his blood. His 
 life now presented itself to him as a moral problem, 
 which it was his duty to solve, and to solve moreover 
 in a definite and businesslike way. He would not 
 leave Cambridge, so he resolved, until he had 
 equipped himself with a working philosophy of life. 
 At last he believed that he had found it. Reading 
 widely, and thinking deeply on what he read, he 
 came to this conclusion: that the true and final busi- 
 ness of every man is to affirm his own personality, 
 but always in such a way as to help others to affirm 
 theirs J in other, words, to treat all men as ends in 
 themselves, and to think evil of no man. With this 
 equipment, which he intended to articulate and 
 develop, he went into business, as a man furnished 
 for the battle of life and ready for all contingen- 
 cies — a man with Principles. 
 
 Refraining from public utterance during his 
 father's life, lest he should break the old man's heart, 
 William Hooker took up the work of the Ethical 
 Society as soon as the way was clear. It became his 
 hobby, his preoccupation, his delight, and above 
 all — his Duty. Fortunately his business, being well 
 wound up, ran of itself. To the conduct of its 
 aff"airs he gave as much time as was necessary j to 
 philosophical reading, to the preparation of his lec- 
 
 90
 
 SMOKEOVER GROWS RICH 
 
 tures to the Society and to the work of organizing 
 its propaganda all over the country, he gave as much 
 time as he could. If you called at the factory and 
 asked to see the principal, as likely as not you would 
 be told that he was away on "ethical business," a 
 phrase well understood in the office, though some- 
 what bewildering to the stranger. It meant that 
 Hooker was attending a fortnight's conference of 
 Ethical Societies in London, or that he was giving 
 a course of lectures at a Settlement, or that he was 
 organizing a new branch in another town. But you 
 would find a most competent manager in charge, 
 who would attend to your affairs and send you away 
 satisfied. 
 
 Mr. Hooker had three sons, fine strapping fellows 
 with the excellent Hooker brains — his only children. 
 They went to the war, and after surviving three years 
 of active service without a wound, toward the end 
 all three were killed in rapid succession, one in a 
 manner too horrible to be thought of. These blows 
 cut down to the roots of the clockmaker's life and 
 liberated strange emotions he had never felt before. 
 Then his wife, an excellent woman and devoted 
 mother, went half insane, and took to drink. Where- 
 upon Mr. Hooker became less regular in attending 
 the meetings of the Society j seemed absent-minded 
 whenever he turned up; grew tepid about reconstruc- 
 tion, and had the air of a man who was bored with 
 morality. But of that more anon. 
 
 Another incident contributed to the same result. 
 Not long after these calamities had occurred there 
 came down to Smokeover a certain lecturer, whose 
 remarks gave offence to the more enthusiastic of the 
 
 91
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 ethical reformers. He was announced to discourse 
 on "The Perils of Reconstruction." He began by 
 telling his audience that though many things might 
 be changed after the war, the multiplication table 
 would have to remain as it wasj a point, he said, that 
 was in some danger of being overlooked. He then 
 launched into figures, intended to show that all the 
 belligerents after the war would be over head and 
 ears in debt and on the verge of bankruptcy. For 
 some time afterwards these debts, he said, would be 
 used as currency and things would be quite lively j 
 but a dark hour would follow when the bills would 
 have to be paid. "Then look out!" he cried j "three 
 years after the war you people will not be recon- 
 structing Society. You will be asking where 
 to-morrow's breakfast is to come from." It was a 
 horrible wet blanket, and in the discussion which fol- 
 lowed the lecturer was hotly denounced as a pessi- 
 mist, a cynic and a traitor to the ideal. Hooker, who 
 was in the chair, felt most unhappy. The last con- 
 solation he had for the horrors of the war was being 
 taken away from him, for, in those days, as we have 
 seen, "reconstruction" was the balm in which many 
 hurt minds sought relief. After the lecture, the 
 speaker, a well-known financial expert, went home 
 with him and the two men sat up till the small hours 
 of the morning discussing the situation. The result 
 was that Reconstruction became a word which, even 
 when spelt with a capital letter, did not impress Mr. 
 Hooker; for he was a man of great intelligence. 
 Weary with the burden of his private sorrow he had 
 no heart for the discussions of the Ethical Society; 
 grew impatient with all its definitions of the Supreme 
 
 92
 
 SMOKEOVER GROWS RICH 
 
 Good J lost interest in the Relation of the Individual 
 to the Social Whole j became sceptical about Progress, 
 and seemed to himself to be living in a world so 
 utterly gone to pieces that it could never be recon- 
 structed by the art of man. 
 
 But the greatest of all Mr. Hooker's troubles has 
 yet to be told. He had become immensely rich. 
 
 93
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 The Profiteer 
 
 A S in a crowded city, where there is no regulation 
 -^^ of traffic, men drive their vehicles in fear of 
 collision at the street corners, and the best driver is 
 often at the mercy of the worst, so were the nations 
 of the earth in the troubled times when Mr. Hooker 
 began his adventures as a rich man. Geography 
 showed these nations fixed in their places on a map 
 of the world j but history showed them in movement y 
 on lines that crossed at a thousand points, in spaces 
 where there was little room to manoeuvre and where 
 the rules of the road, if there were any, were not 
 observed. Some of them had set up within their own 
 borders admirable systems of government by con- 
 sent of the governed, but their plans were being 
 constantly upset by the doings of their neighbours, 
 who drove their vehicles at the international cross- 
 ings without the least regard to the consent of the 
 others who were coming full tilt round the corner. 
 Self-government is no exception to the rule that the 
 real value of political arrangements is always far less 
 than the face-value. The people in a self-governed 
 country would decide, for example, that their taxes 
 must be reduced, and, after making innumerable 
 speeches, would hold a general election to return a 
 
 94
 
 THE PROFITEER 
 
 government for that purpose j when, lo and behold, 
 another government, a foreign one, would threaten 
 war upon the first, and the taxes, instead of going 
 down, would go up by leaps and bounds. And 
 strange it was to observe how these people, whose 
 taxes were thus being determined by causes over 
 which they had no control, would cling tenaciously to 
 the belief that they were being taxed only by their 
 own consent, declaring, in grave books of history, 
 that the National Debt had been created by their 
 elected representatives, but forgetting Napoleon who 
 made them create it. There were other delusions of 
 the same kind which added greatly to the general con- 
 fusion of the world. Behind the order that reigned 
 in the parts was the disorder that reigned in the 
 whole. And of course the disorderliness of the 
 whole was constantly disturbing the orderliness of 
 the parts. Not even in the ages of primitive savagery 
 were the fortunes of mankind more insecure. 
 
 In spite of the delusions aforesaid the fact of this 
 general disorder was gradually forcing itself into 
 recognition. For a long time past evidence had been 
 growing that human affairs were out of hand, that 
 however well governed the world might be in parts 
 the huge totality was not governed at all. It was 
 becoming clearer every day that the course of events, 
 both at home and abroad, corresponded neither to 
 the consent of the governed nor to the consent of 
 anybody else. Strictly speaking it represented what 
 nobody wanted. Civilization was not proceeding 
 according to plan. It was taking a line of its own, 
 paying no regard to the desires of the multitudes nor 
 to the programmes of the reformers. Behind the 
 
 95
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 backs of all the Parliaments somebody was playing 
 tricks with the fortunes of mankind. 
 
 Were all men philosophers these things would 
 doubtless have been set down to their proper causes. 
 But all men are not philosophers. The instinct which 
 leads the savage to knock off the head of his fetish 
 because his hunting has failed, or a spoilt and pas- 
 sionate child to slap his mother because he is suffer- 
 ing from the toothache, is still strong in human 
 nature and in the crowd. So, in the present instance, 
 the discovery that things were going wrong had the 
 effect, first, of throwing society into an exceptionally 
 bad temper, and, second, of stimulating the search 
 for a culprit upon whose head the common anger 
 might be discharged. 
 
 The belief gained ground that villainy was abroad, 
 and though no price was officially put on the head of 
 the villain, it was generally understood that his cap- 
 ture would be a signal service to mankind. So every- 
 one was on the alert to detect the author of this 
 strange miscarriage in the world's affairs. In litera- 
 ture, in the press, in the pulpit and in all places of 
 resort or assembly where men take exercise in 
 denouncing the misdeeds of their fellows, the self- 
 constituted detective was at work. Few were so for- 
 tunate as not to be suspected of having a hand in the 
 mischief. The air was full of mutual recriminations. 
 Labour said it was Capital. Capital said it was 
 Labour. The revolutionaries said it was the powers- 
 that-be. The powers-that-be said it was the revolu- 
 tionaries. The Government said it was the Opposi- 
 tion. The Opposition said it was the Government. 
 The women said it was the men, and were burning 
 
 96
 
 THE PROFITEER 
 
 houses and haystacks to prove their accusation. The 
 name of the villain was Legion. Some blamed the 
 Churches J some the philosophers} some the school- 
 masters j some the newspapers j some the taverns. 
 But few were wise enough to blame themselves. 
 Never had satisfaction with self been more compla- 
 cent and dissatisfaction with others more threatening. 
 There was still abundance of loving-kindness in the 
 world, but it was mostly out of sight, where the cine- 
 matograph operators and the newspaper reporters 
 could hardly be expected to find it. 
 
 It is one of the results of free speech, and of 
 democratic institutions in general, that people who 
 think themselves innocent are provided with unlim- 
 ited facilities for proving other people guilty. 
 Democracy is a system which endows the citizen with 
 the utmost freedom to discharge his responsibilities 
 on to the shoulders of somebody else, and with the 
 widest range in selecting a culprit for whatever goes 
 wrong. There is no kind of freedom men value 
 more highly or of which they make a readier use. 
 The disadvantage of the system is that a world where 
 everybody is free to choose his own culprit is pre- 
 cisely the kind of world where the real culprit is 
 most likely to escape detection. All he has to do is 
 to join in the general hue-and-cry and shout "Stop 
 thief!" a little louder than the rest. The Immor- 
 tals, who watched these proceedings from their invis- 
 ible stations, knew well enough who the real culprit 
 was, and would sometimes whisper the secret to an 
 incredulous world. 
 
 But these whispers produced no effect save indig- 
 nation against the Immortals j and in 1914 a position 
 
 97
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 had been reached where every class, interest or party 
 was regarded by some other class, interest or party 
 as guilty of the miscarriage of civilization. To the 
 question "Who is the culprit?" there were, perhaps, 
 a thousand different answers, one or other of which 
 was certain to find you out. 
 
 All of a sudden this chaos of angry interactions 
 found vent in a world-wide explosion. In an instant 
 the problem of culpability was simplified j the thou- 
 sand answers were reduced to two. For the world 
 had split into two groups, each believing that it had 
 found the culprit, the villain, the enemy, the troubler 
 of mankind, in the other. And since there was no 
 arbitrator to judge between them (nor would his 
 award have been accepted if there had been) they 
 fought it out, until, after four and a quarter years 
 of unimaginable bloodshed, one of them was deci- 
 sively beaten. 
 
 The culprit had been found, convicted and sen- 
 tenced. To all parties the cost had been enormous. 
 Half Europe had been ruined; hundreds of millions 
 of people, who were offensive to each other, had been 
 punished J posterity, on both sides, had been penal- 
 ized for generations to come; vengeance had slaked 
 her thirst in blood and tears. "And now," said the 
 sanguine, "wrath having burnt itself out, let us begin 
 to love one another." 
 
 Alas! the echoes of the guns had hardly ceased to 
 reverberate, and the steam from the blood-soaked 
 battlefields had only just been blown away by the 
 kindly winds, when the old question broke out anew. 
 The culprit was still at large! The parties, the 
 interests, the factions, the groups, the classes, the 
 
 98
 
 THE PROFITEER 
 
 nations, faced one another as before, each pointing 
 a minatory finger at one of its neighbours, and cry- 
 ing "Thine is the guilt! But for thee all would be 
 well," And so, once more, the moving circle of Dis- 
 trust, which whoso enters must play the double part 
 of fugitive and pursuer, resumed its vicious revolu- 
 tion, like a roundabout of wooden horses at a country 
 fair, with a steam organ to grind out devil's music 
 while the senseless chase goes on. 
 
 Such was the state of things in the world at large 
 when Mr. Hooker made his debut as a millionaire 
 in the city of Smokeover. Needless to say, there 
 were not wanting many, both in Smokeover and else- 
 where, who were quick to perceive that a promising 
 culprit had appeared upon the scene. The hue-and- 
 cry was immediately at his heels and no mercy was 
 shown him by any of his pursuers. Mr. Hooker's 
 name was soon converted into a synonym for social 
 guilt. Mentioned at a public meeting, or in a news- 
 paper article, it acted as a lightning conductor for 
 all that was fuliginous in the temper of Smokeover. 
 It became a figure of speech in the local vernacular, 
 and was used by revolutionary orators to indicate the 
 most dangerous class of social criminals. They were 
 "the Hookers of industry," "the Hookers of Com- 
 merce," "the Hookers of finance," "the Hookers of 
 civilization" — and down with them all! The name 
 itself, the mere sound of it, gave point to the accusa- 
 tion. In the minds of an angry crowd it conjured 
 up images which set the demonstrators booing till 
 they were hoarse. For Mr. Hooker had been freely 
 represented in local caricature: sometimes as a mon- 
 strous beast of prey with claws or talons j sometimes 
 
 99
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 as a bloated giant with his grappling hook in the 
 vitals of the working man. 
 
 How it came to pass that a man so good found 
 himself in a position so uncomfortable the Legend 
 has now to tell. 
 
 When the industries of the country were mobil- 
 ized for the purposes of war, Smokeover imme- 
 diately answered the call. Mr. Hooker's clock-fac- 
 tory was among the first to be commandeered. Its 
 operatives were skilled, its machinery was easily 
 adaptable, and the open country on one side of it 
 gave scope for unlimited extensions. Mr. Hooker 
 was told that there were enough clocks in existence 
 to keep the world well informed as to the time of 
 day until the war was over, and that his plant must 
 be converted without a moment's delay for the manu- 
 facture on an immense scale of timing mechanism 
 for shells, torpedoes and mines j of hand-grenades, 
 the locks of rifles, the working parts of machine guns 
 and of a hundred other things whose action depended 
 on fine springs and the interlocking of small wheels. 
 
 His patriotism assented j it was a righteous cause, 
 and almost before he had realized what was happen- 
 ing the experts were on the scene. Then came the 
 instructors from Woolwich Arsenal, and all day long 
 there were groups of men and women gathered 
 round the machines learning their lessons. The 
 draughtsmen, the architects and the surveyors fol- 
 lowed; railway sidings were thrown out on the open 
 fields adjoining J an army of workmen were digging, 
 shovelling and laying tracks. Piles of bricks, stacks 
 of timber, dumps of cement, train-loads of steel gir- 
 
 100
 
 THE PROFITEER 
 
 ders and building material of every kind began to 
 appear j a thousand hammers were banging day and 
 night 5 and presently a group of immense buildings 
 rose like an exhalation. "Shells, shells!" the public 
 was shouting, and since the fuses were here, why not 
 make the shells themselves next door? Is not this 
 Smokeover the Mighty with the labour on the spot 
 and the raw material not far off? To be sure, said 
 the Government, and Mr. Hooker nodded assent. 
 And why not explosives and poison gas to fill the 
 shells — Smokeover can do that! To be sure, again 
 said the Government. So up went another group 
 of buildings bigger than the first, and, beyond that, 
 streets of huts, with the flag of the Y.M.C.A. flut- 
 tering at intervals, eight canteens, a hospital with 
 doctors and trained nurses in attendance, a recreation 
 ground, a welfare building, a new water main and 
 drainage system, in fact, a town. Eight thousand 
 operatives were assembled, men and women, of 
 whom some lived in the huts while the rest came and 
 went in trainloads every day; and the seventh com- 
 mandment was none too well kept. 
 
 And now "Hooker & Co.," blown out to enormous 
 magnitudes and transformed in a fashion to make its 
 Quaker founders turn in their graves and to paralyze 
 the mainspring of every clock the factory had turned 
 out, was in full blast — one huge stithy of war, 
 sprawling over many acres of "England's green and 
 pleasant land." Viewing the sheds and warehouses 
 from the windows of a passing train you wondered 
 when they would come to an end; you counted the 
 trainloads of shells waiting in the siding; if it was 
 day you watched the great chimneys belching smoke, 
 
 101
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 and suddenly put up the windows to keep out the 
 acrid fumes from the steaming vatsj if it was night 
 you saw the sky lit up for miles around with the 
 flames of "Satanic forges" raging below — a steering 
 point for the first Zeppelins that crossed the seas. It 
 was a marvellous transformation, worthy of the 
 Arabian Nights. It was a prodigy. It was used as 
 a text, or object-lesson, to convince incredulous allies 
 of the titanic efforts Great Britain was making to 
 win the war. French statesmen, taken to see it the 
 day after their landing in England, exhausted the 
 dictionary for terms of admiration. Neutrals were 
 staggered. Business experts from America cried, 
 "Great snakes!" and booked orders for a million 
 dollars' worth of machinery on the spot. But none 
 was more amazed that Mr. Hooker himself. Some- 
 times, as he drove up to the works in his Rolls-Royce, 
 and looked on the scene of what once had been his 
 innocent clock-factory, a thought would cross his 
 mind which made him shudder, and challenged reflec- 
 tion. He shuddered to think of the ease and rapidity 
 with which small wheels made for telling men the 
 time could be converted into enormous mechanism 
 for blowing their souls out of time into eternity. 
 
 Sentries walked up and down in front of the gates, 
 or guarded the dumps j detectives prowled about on 
 the watch for German spies. All day long taxi-cabs 
 and private motors would drive up to the entrance, 
 and brisk men in uniform with red and gold on their 
 caps would leap out. Sometimes the detective, after 
 looking in at the window, would respectfully open 
 the door and the sentry would stand to the salute. 
 It was Sir William Robertson, seeing things for him- 
 
 102
 
 THE PROFITEER 
 
 self J or it was "our military expert" escorting a 
 duchess and preparing an indictment j or it was the 
 Prime Minister to confer with Mr. Hooker; or 
 "them two — did you see 'em, Bill — that long bloke 
 with the round man in blue — blowed if I don't think 
 it was K. of K. and old Father Joffer." 
 
 And the money? The accounts which the head 
 cashier brought Mr. Hooker week by week of the 
 money that was rolling in and the money that was 
 rolling out caused him to gasp. All he knew dis- 
 tinctly was that what rolled in far exceeded what 
 rolled out. The generosity of the Government was 
 amazing. It was perpetually atoning to Mr. Hooker 
 for its own mistakes. If the War Council were all 
 at sixes and sevens, if a disaster occurred in Gallipoli 
 or a hundred thousand men were blotted out in 
 France, the result to Hooker & Co. was that money 
 rolled their way in a more impetuous flood than ever. 
 There was no checking it; there was no controlling it: 
 you had no alternative but to sit at the receipt of 
 custom and rake in the shekels. The thing simply 
 went on. It went on for three years, and at the end 
 of that time Mr. Hooker possessed a fortune of two 
 and a half millions sterling. By common consent 
 he was acclaimed the King of Profiteers. 
 
 What was Mr. Hooker going to do with all this 
 wealth? The question was on the lips of many. 
 Everybdy seemed to know what he would do with it 
 if the money were his, though of the hundreds who 
 gave their views hardly two agreed. Moreover it is 
 one thing to know what you would do with two and 
 a half millions when you haven't got them, and 
 quite another thing if they stand to your credit in 
 
 103
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 the bank. The first is easy as talking j the second 
 difficult as martyrdom — especially if you happen to 
 be President of a Society for Ethical Culture. 
 
 Mr. Hooker had asked himself the question long 
 before it had been asked by anybody elsej and, what 
 is more, he had answered it. He had not graduated 
 in Ethical and Political Science for nothing j he had 
 not lectured up and down the country for twenty 
 years on the Moral Ideal without meaning what he 
 said. He knew that he was becoming a social danger 
 of the first magnitude, and could have given points 
 to any moralist who had taken him to task on the 
 subject. He had studied the matter from every 
 point of view J he had put his sensitive conscience 
 under the severest cross-examination j and he had 
 made the most damaging comparisons against him- 
 self. "Rumbelow's wealth, for example," he had 
 reflected, "is the fruit of his own wickedness. Mine 
 is the fruit of the wickedness of my fellow men — 
 the wickedness which has caused the war. Rumbelow 
 can at least plead that he has earned his by his wits. 
 Mine has been thrust upon me by the force of cir- 
 cumstances with hardly an effort of my own. Which 
 of us two is the greater villain, the more despicable 
 character? Unquestionably myself." 
 
 Moreover, sceptic as he was in regard to matters 
 of which other men speak with bated breath, he had 
 an uncomfortable feeling that somewhere in the uni- 
 verse there was a Great Inspector of Motives who 
 might put him to the question j and he had pictured 
 to himself what a sorry figure he would cut at the 
 Day of Judgment if he were asked to state what his 
 motives had been in amassing his millions, and he 
 
 104
 
 THE PROFITEER 
 
 could only reply, with his thumb in his mouth, 
 "Please, sir, I had no motives at all. I couldn't help 
 it." Nor was his peace of mind increased by the 
 knowledge that his friends in the Ethical Society 
 regarded his position as anomalous and compromis- 
 ing, and that to the public of Smokeover he was 
 becoming an object of dislike and contumely. Once, 
 when his name had been mentioned at a public meet- 
 ing in the City Hall, loud cries of "humbug" and 
 "hypocrite" had risen from the audience, while the 
 name of Rumbelow, which had been mentioned a 
 moment later, was greeted with thunders of applause. 
 
 Tormented by these questions from the first 
 moment the money began to flow in, Mr. Hooker 
 had set himself with his accustomed moral thorough- 
 ness to find an answer. It was not long in coming. 
 "I will bide my time and let the thing work out to its 
 conclusion. I will endure these taunts and suspi- 
 cions in silence. I will let the world think of me 
 what it will. Then, when the war is over, I will use 
 the wealth it has brought me for the purpose of 
 making war impossible for evermore. I will use it, 
 to the last penny, in promoting the cause of Ethical 
 Culture all over the world. I will spread our 
 Society into every town and village and I will make 
 it my residuary legatee. I will establish a great 
 organization, I will set on foot an immense propa- 
 ganda. I will make an atonement for myself and my 
 fellow men. I will hoist the devil with his own 
 petard." 
 
 Such was the firm resolution, and Mr. Hooker, 
 trained by a lifetime of acting on principle, knew that 
 he could trust himself to carry it out. His peace of 
 
 105
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 mind returned to himj his high brows were radiant, 
 and as he sat at the Board Meetings and passed the 
 accounts, a mysterious smile, as of a man who holds 
 a happy secret locked in his breast, would overspread 
 his fine countenance. It is true that a great Rolls- 
 Royce car, of the most expensive equipment, did, 
 somehow, make its appearance j and a country house 
 did, somehow, manage to get itself transferred to 
 Mr. Hooker. But the radiance was not extinguished 
 and the smile was still there. It was all part of the 
 Great Moral Plot. It was all helping to pack ex- 
 plosive into the Monster Petard which was to hoist 
 the devil sky-high. The Rolls-Royce was needed to 
 carry Mr. Hooker to and fro on his weekly visits 
 to the War Office or to his interviews with the Prime 
 Minister. The country house was needed to en- 
 tertain the Generals and the Admirals, the Control- 
 lers of this and the Controllers of that, the Editors 
 and the Correspondents, the Lords and the Ladies, 
 and all the gossiping emissaries of chaos who were 
 constantly travelling between Smokeover and the 
 Capital. 
 
 So it went on till the summer of 1 9 1 8 j two mil- 
 lions of high explosive had now been packed into the 
 Great Petard, Morally comfortable as Mr. Hooker 
 had been all this time, humanly he had been ill at 
 ease. A cloud of anxiety for his three splendid sons, 
 dearer to him than all the wealth of Ind, nay, than 
 his own life, had constantly overshadowed him. At 
 first it was wellnigh intolerable, but use and wont 
 had done their work. All three had been at the 
 front from the beginning, they had taken part in 
 many actions, had won decorations and advanced in 
 
 106
 
 THE PROFITEER 
 
 the Service, so far not one of the three had received 
 the least injury, and at last Mr. Hooker came to take 
 it for granted that they would return safe and sound. 
 Then the lightning fell. 
 
 Alec, the second boy, was the first to go. Shot 
 through both legs and with his right hand blown 
 oflF, he had been taken prisoner at a point where the 
 attack of the Hindenburg line had temporarily failed. 
 He was laid on a stretcher and was about to be taken 
 to the rear by two of his own men when a rain of 
 shells from a British battery fell upon the spot and 
 wiped out the whole party. Before Hooker had 
 recovered from the first shock the news came that 
 George, the youngest, was gone. He had taken part 
 in a bombing raid over Frankfort; his machine, at- 
 tacked on the return, had been disabled and set on 
 fire J and George had been burned to death in the 
 air. A fortnight later Edward, the eldest, was 
 shattered by a bomb which exploded prematurely in 
 his hand, and died in two days after agonies so dread- 
 ful that the doctor who attended him could only 
 speak in generalities. When Hooker heard this news 
 the fountains of the great deep were let loose within 
 him and it seemed to him that his heart would burst. 
 
 William Hooker was a strong, wise man, who had 
 long trained himself to treat the ordinary shocks and 
 pains of life as a philosopher should. But, till now, 
 he had been a stranger to the elemental emotions 
 which lie hidden, like chained tempests, in the "abys- 
 mal deeps of personality"; he had known nothing 
 of those major agonies which cause the soul to sweat 
 as it were great drops of blood. He had known of 
 course that if his sons were killed he would suffer 
 
 107
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 profoundly, and had often trembled at the thought. 
 But when the thing actually happened it came upon 
 him with an overwhelming cruelty of which his 
 darkest forebodings had given him no hint. His 
 philosophy, far from proving an anodyne or a de- 
 fence, only served to light up the depth of his desola- 
 tion and throw into clearer relief the general sense- 
 lessness of the world. Whether Mr. Hooker had 
 learnt to contemplate his own death with equanimity, 
 as Epicurus teaches, is not certain. But he was far 
 from equanimity in contemplating the death of his 
 three sons. 
 
 And a horrible thought was haunting him — the 
 poisoned spear-head of his self-reproaches. That 
 ill-made bomb that had killed Edward? What if 
 it had been made in his own factory? What if he 
 had made it? The chances were even so. It was a 
 Mills bomb that had killed his sonj and of the total 
 supply of Mills bombs to the army one third came 
 from Hooker's firm. Only three weeks before a 
 complaint had been received from the War Office 
 that some of the bombs supplied by Hooker & Co. 
 were faulty and had caused accidents. And the Gov- 
 ernment paid him seven shillings apiece for every 
 one! And the seven shillings he had received for 
 the very bomb which had disembowelled Edward 
 and blown off the half of his handsome face was to 
 be used for the promotion of Ethical Culture! O 
 shameful mockery! O infinite turpitude! "What 
 loathsome reptile," he cried aloud, "can compare 
 with me? Seven shillings! Judas with your thirty 
 pieces of silver I salute you. Hell itself despises the 
 pair of us!" 
 
 108
 
 THE PROFITEER 
 
 Then it was that signs appeared which suggested 
 to those who witnessed them that Mr. Hooker was 
 losing his reason. For thirty years he had never said 
 a prayer; he had no belief in the God to whom men 
 pray. But one day the butler, entering the library, 
 found his master on his knees, his face turned up- 
 ward and his hands clasped in an attitude of supplica- 
 tion. Was he praying to God? No, no. "O Ed- 
 ward, forgive me! O George and Alec, have pity 
 on your father!" That is what the butler heard 
 him cry. 
 
 It may be said that if Mr. Hooker had believed 
 in God, and in His righteous government of the 
 universe, all would have been well. Perhaps it 
 would; but such might-have-beens are difficult to 
 appraise. Believing in God worked differently, in 
 those times, with different people. Some, unques- 
 tionably, it helped through their troubles. To others 
 it brought a new trouble, in the form of a doubt, 
 which added greatly to the bitterness of their cup 
 and, in extreme cases, drove them mad. Some, who 
 had lost their sons in the war, lost their God as well, 
 and, feeling that as the worse loss of the two, fer- 
 vently regretted that they had ever believed in God 
 at all — just as they might regret that they had ever 
 begotten and brought up sons, to be shot through the 
 brain or die in agony at the age of twenty. Some- 
 times the troubles yielded to the belief, and some- 
 times the belief yielded to the troubles. You could 
 never tell in which of the two ways belief in God 
 was going to work, and this Voice has no wisdom to 
 say whether Mr. Hooker would have belonged to the 
 one class of sufferers or to the other. Perhaps it may 
 
 109
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 be counted some mitigation of his lot that with all 
 his manifold distresses he had no trouble about God. 
 But of kindred trouble he had plenty — about himself, 
 whom he despised 3 about the world, which seemed 
 stupid and cruel j and about morality, which seemed 
 unreal. 
 
 Can we wonder, indeed, that Mr. Hooker was not 
 able to talk about morality and that it hurt him to 
 hear it talked about? Can we wonder that he found 
 his home, no less than his office, a dreadful place? 
 Can we wonder that he broke down at the Committee 
 of the Society for Ethical Culture? It may be 
 doubted if there were on the earth any Society, ethi- 
 cal or non-ethical, literary, scientific, political or 
 philanthropic, any club, place of worship or other 
 visible institution, quite big enough to hold Mr. 
 Hooker and the immensity of his self-contempt. Not 
 on the earth, most assuredly. 
 
 In the month of September 1918, when the Ger- 
 man resistance was known to be yielding and the end 
 of the war in sight, the Committee of the Ethical 
 Society met to draw up its programme for the coming 
 session. Thirteen members were present — all the 
 committees of the Society were large in proportion to 
 its total membership — including the two Labour 
 agitators, who had been persuaded to return to the 
 fold, two professors and the headmistress of the 
 High School for Girls, Miss Margaret Wolfstone, 
 a fine looking woman of thirty. 
 
 Of Miss Wolfstone another Voice is waiting to 
 speak. Suffice it for the present that she had intro- 
 duced the practice of smoking cigarettes at the com- 
 
 110
 
 THE PROFITEER 
 
 mittee meetings, a habit acquired while acting as a 
 nurse during the warj also, that a long white mark, 
 concealed by a thick braid of hair, ran across the 
 upper part of her low, broad brow. It was the scar 
 of a wound caused by a splinter of wood when she 
 was in charge of the cot-cases on a hospital ship, 
 torpedoed by the Germans. 
 
 Mr. Hooker began by saying that he would pro- 
 pose to the Committee a line of action for the next 
 session different from that pursued in the last. He 
 doubted if the Society had done full justice to the 
 financial expert. Perhaps that gentleman had need- 
 lessly depressed them. Still, there was no denying 
 that the financial outlook was extremely dark, and 
 that the whole edifice of Reconstruction was in grave 
 peril. He would propose that for the next session 
 the Society should confine itself to the question of 
 National Finance, as the foundation of reform, and 
 that a series of experts should be invited to lecture 
 upon the matter. 
 
 He had, however, a more startling, though, he 
 believed, a sound proposal to bring forward. He had 
 been informed that Mr. Arthur Rumbelow, who was 
 now recovered from his wounds, had been giving 
 close attention to the question of National Finance 
 during the period of his convalescence. In spite of 
 Mr. Rumbelow's abominable ethics, they all knew 
 that he was a man of great intellectual power j and 
 he had heard that since his wound, which had brought 
 him to the point of death, Mr. Rumbelow's mind 
 had been moving in new directions and that he had 
 been greatly softened by the influence of his wife. 
 He proposed that Mr. Rumbelow be invited to give 
 
 111
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 the Inaugural Address. "There will be an enor- 
 mous crowd to hear him and we shall have to engage 
 the City Hall." 
 
 The dismay of the Committee on hearing this 
 proposal was plain to seej but Miss Wolf stone, her 
 two elbows resting on the table and the cigarette held 
 aloft in her left hand, said quietly: 
 
 "I support that proposal. I came to know Mr. 
 Rumbelow when he was a cot-case on the hospital 
 ship, and — well — to believe in him." At which both 
 the Labour agitators said, "Hear, hear." 
 
 But the two professors would have nothing to do 
 with it. One of them said, "Finance is outside our 
 province. We are an Ethical Society. Besides which, 
 if this proposal is carried, our work will be ruined. 
 My colleague and I would resign at once. To bring 
 out a man of Mr. Rumbelow's calling under the aus- 
 pices of this Society would be a scandal to morality." 
 
 "Never mind about morality," said one of the 
 agitators. "Get the best man for the job." 
 
 After more discussion the proposal was put to the 
 vote, three voting for it and nine against. Mr. 
 Hooker then said: 
 
 "I am not surprised that you have rejected my 
 proposal. I am not hurt. Perhaps I ought not to 
 have brought it forward. But the truth is that my 
 interest in our work is not exactly what it was. Not 
 that my ethical convictions have changed in the least. 
 But the events of the war have taught me that our 
 methods are futile. We are a mission to the con- 
 verted. We pipe, but nobody dances. The world is 
 refractory to moral teachings such as we have to oJBFer, 
 always has been so, always will be so. What we are 
 
 112
 
 THE PROFITEER 
 
 doing has been attempted a thousand times before by 
 moralists of every school, but it has made little or 
 no impression on the brutishness and stupidity of 
 mankind. If it had, Smokeover and all its villainies 
 would never have come into existence. Smokeover 
 is the symbol of our defeat, which has been over- 
 whelming, though we affect not to see it. We do not 
 touch the essential agony of life. We get nowhere 
 near the centre. The big things escape us. Mean- 
 while the Rumbelows are masters of the situation. 
 We must change our methods. We must form an 
 alliance with them and all they stand for. We must 
 ask them to teach us our business. Frankly I would 
 make friends, yes, friends, with the mammon of 
 unrighteousness j though some of you will think I 
 am not the man to say it. But, as you know, the cir- 
 cumstances of my life have greatly changed," 
 
 Here the poor man, who had made an effort to 
 control himself, broke down completely, bowed his 
 head in the fold of the arm which lay on the table, 
 and sobbed aloud. Miss Wolfstone went up to him 
 and putting her hand on his shoulder said, "Let me 
 go home with you, Mr. Hooker." 
 
 "No," he answered, recovering himself, "I must 
 finish v/hat I had to say. I can't explain, but those 
 of you who have been hard hit like myself, and I 
 know that some of you have, will understand. I 
 can no longer talk about morality j I can no longer 
 bear to hear it talked of by others. It hurts me: it 
 hurts me cruelly. It gives me a horrible sense that 
 I am in a world of dismal unreality. I must cease 
 to be your President, That is all," 
 
 And with that he got up, shook hands with the two 
 
 113
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 professors who had opposed him, and left the 
 room. 
 
 When he was gone all tongues were loosened ex- 
 cept Miss Wolfstone's. She remained silent, listen- 
 ing to the others. "He's not the man he was." "I 
 fear his mind is becoming unhinged, like his wife's." 
 "His breaking down was a bad sign." "His proposal 
 about Rumbelow was a worse." "It is better that he 
 should resign." "He was never really rooted in 
 philosophy — always seemed to me to be preaching." 
 "What has upset him is not so much the death of 
 his sons as the money he has made out of the war." 
 This was the talk. 
 
 When Miss Wolfstone went out she found 
 Hooker on the steps, toying with the brim of his 
 hat and looking vaguely up and down the street. 
 
 "Where are you going?" she asked. 
 
 "I don't know. I don't know which way to turn. 
 If I go up the street I go towards my office. If I 
 go down the street I get nearer to my home. Both 
 are dreadful places. For pity's sake, my dear lady, 
 take me somewhere." 
 
 She linked her arm in his, drew him to a taxi- 
 stand and bade the driver take him to his home. 
 
 114
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 
 Mr. Hooker's Advisers 
 
 TV/jTR. HOOKER'S advisers were importunate, 
 ■^^■^ numerous and discordant. Every post 
 brought him a heterogeneous pile of begging letters, 
 genuine and fraudulent, pathetic, tragic, comic, cun- 
 ning, stupid, modest and impudent. Some pleaded 
 broken hearts, some threatened blackmail. Some ad- 
 dressed him in fawning tones as a benefactor sent 
 from heaven ; some told him plainly that he was the 
 blackest of villains. In the course of a single day 
 he received ninety-four requests for subscriptions to 
 public objects. All gave him, either openly or by 
 implication, what the writers considered good advice. 
 Had Mr. Hooker yielded to what this crowd of 
 applicants demanded his millions would soon have 
 been dissipated j in which event, no doubt, the advice 
 given him by a cynical correspondent that he should 
 "destroy his wealth" as the safest thing he could do, 
 would have been in large measure carried out. If 
 Mr. Hooker himself could not be justly accused of 
 cupidity, his vast wealth having been thrust upon him 
 by the force of circumstances, he was certainly an 
 active cause of cupidity in other people. 
 
 All Smokeover hummed with the question, "What 
 will Mr. Hooker do with his money?" It competed 
 
 115
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 with the League of Nations and with the Great 
 Divorce Case as the chief topic of public interest. 
 Working men shouted it to one another as they raced 
 home on their bicycles at five o'clock. In crowded 
 assemblies, where torture was being endured under 
 the guise of hospitality, people in evening dress 
 screamed it into each other's ears, or breathed it into 
 each other's mouths. It made the week-end house 
 parties more than usually piquant j Cabinet Ministers 
 might be heard discussing it at dinner with be- 
 jewelled women, dressed, or undressed, in the last 
 creations from Paris. It invaded the Common 
 Rooms of our ancient Universities, where many 
 bottles of generous port were consumed without any 
 conclusion coming in sight. A question was raised 
 about it in the House, and the Chancellor of the Ex- 
 chequer was asked by the Labour Party what action 
 he meant to take: he said the matter was occupying 
 the attention of his department. Women gossiped 
 and agitators thundered. In clubs, in drawing rooms, 
 in railway carriages, at the church door, and some- 
 times, sotto voce, in church itself, the question ran 
 and spread and diffused itself, like an epidemic. 
 Once, if report speaks true, it was debated for more 
 than an hour by four persons dressed in deep black, 
 as they sat in a mourning coach which was following 
 the hearse at a snail's pace to a cemetery five miles 
 oflF. Boredom found it a relaxation and grief an 
 anodyne. 
 
 But neither in the mourning coach nor anywhere 
 else was interest in the question quite so keen as the 
 meetings of the Smokeover Branch of the Society 
 for Ethical Culture. 
 
 116
 
 MR. HOOKER'S ADVISERS 
 
 So far as the members knew, nothing of the kind 
 had previously occurred in the history of the Ethical 
 Movement, and they foresaw that the event would 
 have a profound effect on its fortunes. If Hooker 
 turned traitor to the cause and became a vulgar 
 plutocrat, as some said he would, the whole move- 
 ment would be discredited and set back. If on the 
 other hand he remained true to his principles, con- 
 sulting his conscience, acting from the highest 
 motives, and applying the Moral Will to the dis- 
 position of his money J if, in a word, he used the 
 whole of it to promote the Ethical Revival which 
 was so long overdue, what might one not see? In 
 spite of their preliminary doubts and of appear- 
 ances to the contrary, it was generally conceded that 
 Hooker would use his money for "doing good"j or 
 at least for Reconstruction. But what good would 
 he do? What would he reconstruct? That was 
 the question. 
 
 The Society felt that the question, involving as 
 it did, a great ethical problem, was one on which it 
 ought to make a definite pronouncement j and so 
 absorbing did the interest become that for the time 
 being the members could hardly concentrate their 
 attention on anything else. Little by little the weekly 
 discussions grew shorter j the definitions of the Su- 
 preme Good more perfunctory j the relations of the 
 Individual to the Social Whole more hastily sketched. 
 Even the more contentious members of the group, 
 who formed the majority, began to refrain from 
 making speeches. The truth was that they were all 
 looking forward to the moment when, the meeting 
 over, they would retire to the tea-shop over the way 
 
 117
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 and interchange ideas on "what Mr. Hooker would 
 do with his money." 
 
 On one occasion the Committee on Practical 
 Applications was meeting in the dingy little 
 room at the back of the Hallj Professor Giles, 
 the psychologist, was in the chair j and the first 
 topic on the agenda was "Action of the Society 
 in regard to the League of Nations." The pro- 
 gramme of action was rapidly drawn up and 
 adopted almost without argument. "And now," 
 said a member, "the next step will be to approach 
 Mr. Hooker for a large donation to the League 
 Propaganda Fund." 
 
 "You forget," said another, "that Mr. Hooker Is 
 losing faith in Reconstruction." 
 
 "Yes," said the Chairman, pushing his agenda 
 aside, "and that raises the whole question of what 
 he is going to do with his money. The more I think 
 of it the more convinced I am that he is in an im- 
 possible position. If Hooker were an ordinary man 
 of business we all know what he would do. He 
 would do like all the rest. Perhaps a little better, 
 but essentially the same. But he is not an ordinary 
 man of business. Handling money is not his line. 
 He is a student, a thinker, and a man with an ex- 
 traordinarily sensitive conscience. He knows too 
 much about ethics to be able to make up his mind in 
 a matter of such complexity. He will be another 
 Hamlet. It would not surprise me in the least if 
 he were to commit suicide. Besides, the deaths of his 
 three sons have broken him, and I hear terrible 
 stories about his wife." 
 
 "I hope," said one of the working men, "that he 
 
 118
 
 MR. HOOKER'S ADVISERS 
 
 will pull down the east end of the town and rebuild 
 it." 
 
 "I wonder, Giles," said Professor Smith — his sub- 
 ject was History — "I wonder what you would do, 
 if you were placed in a similar position." 
 
 "Put that question to yourself," snapped the psy- 
 chologist, "and mind you answer it." 
 
 "If the money were mine," said the dentist, "I 
 should give the whole of it for the alleviation of 
 physical pain, which is the only real evil in the uni- 
 verse." 
 
 "I know what / should do," said the designer of 
 women's frocks. "I should go to the dogs." 
 
 "I suspect that a good many of us would do that," 
 interposed the Warden of the Women's Settlement} 
 though what precisely she meant was not clear, for 
 she was seventy years of age. 
 
 Here Miss Wolfstone blew a ring of smoke. "For 
 my part," she said, "I should do an infinite number 
 of things. All of them quite small." 
 
 "I wish," said a gentleman with a red tie, "that 
 Hooker would hand the money over to me." 
 
 "Then we should see something bigy'' said Miss 
 Wolfstone. 
 
 "Yes, and you'd soon find out what it was. We 
 should want your school as a hospital for the 
 wounded." This was spoken with some asperity. 
 
 "I think," said the Professor of Ethics, "we ought 
 to appoint a special sub-committee to deal with the 
 question and draw up a joint resolution to be sub- 
 mitted to Mr. Hooker in the name of the Society. 
 It is a matter on which the Society ought to speak 
 with united voice." 
 
 119
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 "Had we not better ask Mr. Hooker first whether 
 our advice would be welcome to him?" asked Miss 
 Wolfstone. 
 
 "Welcome or not, it ought to be given," said the 
 Professor. 
 
 "But do you think we should agree?" 
 
 "The issue is perfectly simple," said the Professor 
 — his name was Pawkins — "unless we can agree on 
 a plain practical matter of this kind what prospect 
 is there of our agreeing about anything?" 
 
 "None," said the designer of women's frocks. 
 "All the same we shall not agree about this." 
 
 After further discussion the idea of a joint resolu- 
 tion was abandoned. Professor Pawkins, defeated 
 on this point, but still insistent on the "duty" of the 
 Society, now suggested that the members of the 
 Committee should write as individuals to Mr. 
 Hooker, leaving him to infer the general trend of 
 the Society's judgment from the separate opinions. 
 In any event he intended to do so himself. This 
 led to further dissensions. Miss Wolfstone affirming 
 that she, for her part, would not write to Mr. Hooker 
 unless he definitely asked for her advice. Finally 
 an understanding was reached to send him a care- 
 fully worded letter inquiring whether. In view of 
 his long connection with the Society, he would be 
 willing to receive individual opinions from the mem- 
 bers on a matter so nearly concerning himself and 
 them. 
 
 A week later It was reported to the Committee that 
 Mr. Hooker had written a letter of thanks to the 
 Secretary for the kind Interest the Society had shown 
 in his affairs, and said that, far from taking it amiss, 
 
 120
 
 MR. HOOKER'S ADVISERS 
 
 he would be profoundly grateful to any member of 
 the Committee who could throw the least light on 
 the very difficult position in which he found him- 
 self. 
 
 In the month that followed Mr. Hooker received 
 at intervals a dozen letters in all. The following 
 are summaries of the most important. Let us take 
 the Professors' first. 
 
 Professor Giles wrote that he realized the diffi- 
 culty in which Mr. Hooker was placed. But to put 
 himself in Mr. Hooker's position was a psychological 
 impossibility. Then followed a long explanation 
 of why this was so. In the last paragraph he advised 
 the millionaire to do nothing definite for the present j 
 to take his timej to watch the course of events 
 and to act only when ripe reflection coincided 
 with clear opportunity. He added, that times of 
 confusion like the present were not favourable to 
 men who had far-reaching decisions to make. 
 "Wait therefore till the atmosphere has cleared. 
 The things that are clamouring most loudly for 
 money now are not those that will need it most 
 three years hence." 
 
 Mr. Hooker thought it a sensible letter, but 
 wondered how long it would be before "ripe re- 
 flection coincided with clear opportunity," and 
 whether he would be able to recognize the exact 
 moment when it came. 
 
 Professor Marchbanks, the Economist, wanted to 
 know in what capacity he was expected to speak. If 
 as a Political Economist, he would gladly give his 
 opinion as to the economic consequences of any course 
 of action Mr. Hooker might choose for himself, but 
 
 121
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 he would not take the responsibility of guiding his 
 conscience. 
 
 Professor Smith, of the History Department, 
 plumped for a large endowment of Eugenics. 
 
 Professor Pawkins wrote a letter of sixteen pages, 
 which meant, when reduced to its essence, that he 
 didn't know what ought to be done. He developed 
 twelve hypothetical methods of dealing with the 
 money, and invited Mr. Hooker to balance their 
 respective advantages. On the whole he was in- 
 clined to think that the question was one of casuistry, 
 which, he said, was a dangerous subject. 
 
 The designer of women's frocks came next. His 
 vein was light-hearted and a trifle impertinent — for 
 the designer, in spite of his long association with the 
 Ethical Movement, was not, it must be confessed, 
 exactly a gentleman. He said he was very sorry for 
 Mr. Hooker i that, obviously, the sum of money in 
 question was much too large for any one man to 
 handle, and that it ought to be broken up. He sug- 
 gested, therefore, that it should be distributed in 
 twelve equal portions among the members of the 
 Committee, each of whom would then be left 
 responsible for its right application. And he 
 added some rather good remarks on the duty of 
 distributing excessive responsibilities, reminding 
 Mr. Hooker, jocosely, of a lecture he had once 
 given on the subject. This was the smartest reply 
 Mr. Hooker received, but it was also the most 
 unkind. 
 
 The Warden of the Women's Settlement, who 
 was a disciple of Herbert Spencer, said that Mr. 
 Hooker's duty was perfectly clear and simple. He 
 
 122
 
 MR. HOOKER'S ADVISERS 
 
 must devote the money, without reserve, to promot- 
 ing Altruistic Evolution. 
 
 The dentist implored Mr. Hooker not to disperse 
 his benefactions, but to concentrate on a single point, 
 perhaps a minute one, and strike a telling blow. He 
 instanced physical pain. If Mr. Hooker preferred 
 Hospitals, rather than Anaesthetics pure and simple, 
 he knew of many that were in need of funds j and 
 he wrote out a long list of them. 
 
 The two labour agitators were brief and precise. 
 They said, in terms so nearly identical as to suggest 
 collaboration, that if they were in Mr. Hooker's 
 position they would hand over the millions to the 
 strike chests of the Trades Unions. 
 
 The radical lawyer told Mr. Hooker that he had 
 a chance to do the biggest thing of his time. Let 
 him devote his fortune to the revival of the Old 
 Liberal Party, with Peace and Retrenchment for its 
 motto. "Start a first-class Liberal newspaper with 
 ample funds in every large town. Get Asquith back 
 and send Lloyd George and his practitioners to the 
 rightabout." 
 
 One of the working-men, not an agitator, sug- 
 gested the foundation of "a Moral College for 
 Labour." That, he said, had been his dream for 
 many years, and he only wished he were in Mr. 
 Hooker's shoes. 
 
 Four of the letters came from the obsessed. One 
 said that he would give every penny of the money to 
 the suppression of vivisection j the second that he 
 would do the same for launching Prohibition propa- 
 ganda on an enormous scale. The third proposed 
 a colossal foundation for enabling bereaved persons 
 
 123
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 to get into communication with the departed. Mr. 
 Whistlefield,, the Champion of the Simple Life, 
 counselled the millionaire to buy up agricultural land 
 and cultivate oats, which, he said, eaten dry, were the 
 finest brain food in the world and highly conductive 
 to moral elevation. 
 
 Miss Wolf stone wrote as follows: 
 
 "My dear Mr. Hooker, 
 
 "I have no true place in the Ethical Society now 
 that you are going. I shall leave with you. 
 
 "I joined it, for reasons that you can imagine, 
 when I was groping, before the war. It was no light 
 burden that I carried. But one and another would 
 dose me with what they called ^salvation by char- 
 acter' — a shallow and profane conception, which I 
 abhor. It hurt me cruelly. 
 
 "But I stayed on. Why? Because in the first 
 place I was strongly attracted by the ideas you were 
 continually enforcing. Then, from the time when 
 the Ministry of Munitions requisitioned your works, 
 I foresaw that a tragedy would overtake you, and I 
 wished to be there when the blow fell. For the rest 
 there was a fascination in studying those queer types 
 of character, so different from one another, which 
 formed our little band, I myself being probably the 
 queerest of the lot. All this was a woman's weak- 
 ness, and I confess that I succumbed to it. But it 
 has taught me much. 
 
 "May I beg you to leave the atmosphere of the 
 Society, to take yourself out of it altogether? The 
 members, excellent people as they are, cannot help 
 you. They will merely pester you with generalities 
 
 124
 
 MR. HOOKER'S ADVISERS 
 
 and so leave you more bewildered than ever. Your 
 problem is far out of their range. They think it is 
 easy. It is, as you know well, immensely difficult. 
 "One of the bitterest trials you have to encounter 
 is that you will be driven, in spite of yourself, to 
 suspect the motives of everyone who approaches you 
 — you, who have trained yourself for years to think 
 evil of no man. Fearing that they would be sus- 
 pected, those who could help you most will keep 
 aloof from youj and that will increase your loneli- 
 ness, and leave you exposed to sycophants, conspira- 
 tors and toadies. I hardly dare approach you myself. 
 Every word in this letter is open to misconstruction — 
 and would be instantly misconstrued by a censorious 
 world. But you and I know one another pretty well, 
 and I take my risk." 
 
 There remained two more letters. Both came 
 from outsiders J which showed that the members of 
 the Committee on Applications had been talking 
 more freely than they ought. The first was signed 
 "Cynic," and ran thus: 
 
 "My dear Man, 
 
 "Your problem is insoluble, and the sooner you 
 recognize this the better. There is no mode of dis- 
 posing of this money that will not do more harm 
 than good. Whatever you do with it, you will wish 
 you had done something else, and you will be right. 
 It is essentially a poison. Don't flatter yourself that 
 you are going to promote the good of society, for 
 there is no good in society as it now exists that is 
 worth promoting. Damn society. It is the mother 
 of quarrels — societas mater discordiarum. Leave it 
 
 125
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 to quarrel itself to death, as it soon will, and as your 
 money, dispose of it as you may, will help it to do. 
 Therefore I counsel you to destroy all this wealth. 
 Destroy it, Hooker j wipe it out of existence as soon 
 as you can ! Don't give it, don't leave it to anybody ! 
 Above all don't spend it on yourself. Destroy it, 
 destroy it, and again I say, destroy it! You will find 
 that no easy thing to do. But write to me, Poste 
 Restante, Southampton Row, London, and I will tell 
 you how, without doing harm to anybody, you can 
 make this wealth to be as though it had never been. 
 I am an expert in the destruction of wealth." 
 
 The last letter to arrive was written in a school- 
 boy's hand. Looking at the address Hooker recog- 
 nized the handwriting of his little friend, Billie 
 Smith, son of Professor Smith, one of his pupils in 
 the Moral Education Class. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Hooker, 
 
 "I heard Father tell Mother last night that you 
 didn't know what to do with all your money. Ted 
 and I talked about it in bed till half-past twelve and 
 made a plan and got an awful rowing from Father 
 this morning for not going to sleep. We want you 
 please sir to bury the money in an island under a 
 palm tree and make one of those funny maps with the 
 murdered man's blood, and don't forget to put the 
 skeleton on the top of the chest bearing two points 
 North by East from the ship so that we shall know 
 exactly where it is. Then Ted and I are going to be 
 pirates and wc will find the treasure and do lots of 
 good with it and make all the poor people happy. 
 Oh do please sir it will be such fun and you can have 
 
 126
 
 MR. HOOKER'S ADVISERS 
 
 as much of the money back as you like when we get 
 
 it and then we can write a book and you shall be the 
 
 man with a wooden leg and one eye. We promise 
 
 to do right sir Ted is such a good boy and I am not a 
 
 cruel one and follow our consciences just as you said 
 
 we ought when you used to take us in the Moral Class 
 
 and we won't kill anybody unless it is in self defence 
 
 and we'll spare all the passengers and be ever so 
 
 polite to the ladies and allow no bad language and 
 
 make anybody walk the plank that tells lies. Oh 
 
 do please, we both promise. You are always so kind 
 
 to boys. Our cat had seven kittens yesterday and 
 
 one has no tail. ^/v i • r • j 
 
 "Your lovmg inend, 
 
 "BiLLiE Smith. 
 
 "P.S. — We think Socrates and Buddha would be 
 ever so pleased if you do what we say. 
 
 "P.S. — You needn't murder the man unless you 
 like. He might fall from the masthead or some- 
 thing like that which would make him bloody." 
 
 The effect of these letters on the mind of Mr. 
 Hooker was fourfold: first, to cause him to remember 
 that Billie Smith's birthday occurred next week, and 
 to order a microscope to be delivered at Billie's ad- 
 dress on the morning of the great day; second, to 
 raise his high regard for Miss Wolfstone, whom he 
 resolved to take more fully into his confidence; third, 
 to increase his antipathy to meddlesome moralists; 
 fourth, to convince him that if his problem were ever 
 solved at all it would have to be solved by himself 
 and by nobody else. The solution, he saw, would 
 never be found. It must be created^ and, save him- 
 self, there was no man living who could create it. 
 
 127
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 The Mad Millionaire Has a Near Shave 
 
 THE impression left by Mr. Hooker, at this time, 
 on the minds of those who knew him was that 
 of a "broken" man. Many of them fell into the 
 habit of referring to him as "poor Hooker!" some- 
 times checking themselves as though the adjective 
 were not appropriate, but inevitably recurring to it 
 later on. His co-directors found his presence at the 
 weekly Board meetings troublesome and dangerous. 
 He would constantly intervene with some high- 
 flown proposal which was not "business" 3 he would 
 press it with obstinacy and pour out moral indigna- 
 tion on any who opposed him. On one occasion he 
 told the Board to its face that it was "a den of 
 thieves" j on another he invoked the fate of Sodom 
 and Gomorrah on the whole undertaking. They 
 agreed that he was impossible, and must be got out 
 of the Chair at all costs. They implored him to go 
 away "for a long rest"j one of them offered the use 
 of his villa on the Riviera — which suggestion was ill- 
 received. They wrote to Mr. Polycarp, solicitor to 
 the Firm, urging him to use his influence and if 
 necessary to "take steps." 
 
 The Ethical Society was emphatic in the same 
 sense. "Poor Hooker," said Professor Giles, "is 
 <"v'^?if for. As a moral force he may be written oflF. 
 
 128
 
 THE MAD MILLIONAIRE 
 
 Yesterday he stopped me in the street and said, with 
 the strangest manner, ^Giles, when is that talking 
 shop of yours going to put up its shutters?' I'm 
 afraid he will discredit the Movement." 
 
 His domestics had no doubt about the matter. 
 Said Robert, the butler, to Jenkins, the chauffeur, 
 "Between you and me, Jenk, the old man's goin' 
 dotty. I told you about me catchin' him sayin' his 
 prayers. Well, this morning at breakfast blowed if 
 he didn't empty his coffee into his porridge plate and 
 eat it with a spoon." 
 
 "And I'll tell you a worse thing than that," said 
 Jenkins. "He's taken against petrol. Smells it 
 everywhere ! He's always stopping the Rolls-Royce 
 and saying there's something wrong with the car. 
 When we were in London yesterday he calls through 
 the speakin' tube and says, ^Jenkins,' says he, ^what's 
 wrong with the car?' Right in the middle of the 
 traffic it was. So I pulls up and I says, 'Nothing, 
 sir.' 4t stinks of burnt petrol,' says he. *It comes 
 from these 'ere motor buses,' says I. 4t's the char- 
 acteristic odour of civilization, and I hate it,' says he 
 — them were his very words. I tell you the old 
 man's breaking up. And a good 'eart, too." 
 
 And what did Mr. Polycarp, the lawyer, think? 
 Mr. Polycarp, whose office in Bedford Row was 
 panelled with black boxes bearing on their outsides 
 the legend "Hooker & Co.," or "William Hooker, 
 Esq""^," thought it a very bad business and anticipated 
 serious trouble. For Mr. Hooker, having shaken 
 off the dust of his feet against the Ethical Society, 
 had determined to make a new Will, but without 
 any clear plan, or notion how to make it. Two or 
 
 129
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 three times a week the agitated millionaire would 
 fly up to London on this errand with proposals which 
 Mr. Polycarp could not understand, still less apply. 
 For example, he would commission the lawyer to 
 draw up a Will "for the general purpose of financ- 
 ing the Moral Ideal," and then ask if it would be 
 ready next week. Or he would launch into Kant's 
 doctrine of the "Good Will," and tell Mr. Polycarp 
 to make one. Or he would break out into invectives 
 against the State, which, he said, was an immoral in- 
 stitution and the perpetrator of innumerable crimes 
 against its subjects, and implore Mr. Polycarp to save 
 his wealth from the predatory designs of "the Great 
 Leviathan." The lawyer interpreted all this as 
 evidence of mental disarray, and when his client left 
 the office he would find himself at his wits' end and 
 fling himself back in his chair. Then, after ejaculat- 
 ing "Poor Hooker!" several times, he would put his 
 mouth to the speaking tube and call to his managing 
 clerk: 
 
 "If Mr. Hooker should come in when I am out, 
 see that he transacts no business and does not commit 
 himself in any way." 
 
 Most assuredly the millionaire was "breaking up." 
 And the humour of it increased the curiosity of the 
 public as to what would become of his vast acquisi- 
 tions — a curiosity which reflected the bewilderment 
 of the millionaire himself. 
 
 But the breaking up process had gone deeper than 
 the gossips were aware of, or than Mr. Polycarp 
 could divine. It had penetrated to the hidden foun- 
 dations of Mr. Hooker's orderly life, and, shatter- 
 ing these, had let loose the imprisoned forces from 
 
 130
 
 THE MAD MILLIONAIRE 
 
 below, things as yet without form, which later on 
 would grow accustomed to the light and clothe them- 
 selves in ideas. There was confusion, of course, but 
 through it all something definite, though dimly- 
 apprehended, was struggling for expression, and Mr. 
 Hooker, baffled by the half-formed thought within 
 him, was turning to this friend and that, in a vain 
 appeal for the liberating word. 
 
 After one of these interviews at his lawyer's office, 
 Mr. Hooker found himself awaiting his return train 
 at a London terminus. The platform was crowded 
 with soldiers returning from the occupied territories. 
 One group in particular caught his attention. It was 
 gathered round a tall man in civilian clothes and 
 appeared to be engaged in eager discussion. 
 
 Mr. Hooker went forward, and finding a first-class 
 compartment empty took his seat, lit a cigar and fell 
 into a deep introspection. As he mused the confusion 
 seemed to abate j the thoughts that jostled in his 
 mind lost their sharp edges j anxiety vanished and a 
 profound calm descended upon his troubled spirit. 
 
 Suddenly he was startled from his reverie by 
 hearing, or seeming to hear, the strains of a melody, 
 extraordinarily sweet and penetrating, coming from 
 somewhere above his head, and accompained by the 
 patter of light feet and the sound of laughing voices. 
 It lasted for several minutes and then abruptly 
 ceased. 
 
 He sprang from his seat and called to the guard, 
 who was passing the window: 
 
 "Guard," he said, "where did that music come 
 from?" 
 
 131
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 "What music, sir?" said the guard. 
 
 "I distinctly heard music and dancing a moment 
 ago." 
 
 The man shook his head, and Hooker, greatly 
 wondering, went back to his corner. Had he been 
 asleep and dreaming? Or was it some frolic of the 
 soldiers on the platform? He never knew. A 
 moment later the whistle was blown for departure. 
 
 The train was already on the move when the guard, 
 running along the platform, flung open the door and 
 thrust into the carriage the tall civilian whom Hooker 
 had seen surrounded by soldiers. 
 
 "Thank you, guard," cried the man. "See me at 
 the other end. Is the lady in?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," shouted the guard, "in the next coach 
 forward." 
 
 It was Rumbelow. Occupied for a moment in 
 arranging some packages on the rack he did not notice 
 his companion 5 but Hooker had recognized him at 
 once, and had time to study him. 
 
 The bookmaker was a man in the prime of life. 
 There was nothing in his appearance to reveal his 
 calling or to suggest a monster or a shark. On the 
 contrary, he had the air of a prince and a soldier j 
 his features were strongly marked, but open: the eye 
 clear and of a deep blue, the nose finely cut and very 
 long, the ear small, the hand white, delicate and 
 long fingered. If there was anything saturnine about 
 the face it was in the mouth, the corners of which 
 were slightly drawn down. 
 
 Rumbelow turned round. "Mr. Hooker, I be- 
 lieve," he said. "I am glad to see you about again, 
 sir. We heard you were ill." 
 
 132
 
 THE MAD MILLIONAIRE 
 
 Mr. Hooker extended his hand, and Rumbelow, 
 who seemed for a moment surprised, returned the 
 grasp. 
 
 "It was kind of you," said Hooker, "to make in- 
 quiries about me the other day. I was touched by 
 it. Indeed I went so far as to write to you last night 
 hoping that you and Mrs. Rumbelow " 
 
 "Call her ^My Lady,' " said Rumbelow. 
 
 Hooker, who had heard of this foible, went on: 
 "Hoping that you and My Lady would dine with 
 
 me." 
 
 ■ "That most assuredly we will do, Mr. Hooker. 
 Thank youj I have long wished that you and I might 
 be better acquainted. I believe we have much in 
 common. But beware, sir. My Lady and I are com- 
 promising acquaintances for a man in your position 
 and with your connexions." 
 
 "You are thinking of the Ethical Society," said 
 Hooker. "I have left it. And as to being com- 
 promised, I am no longer solicitous about that." 
 
 Rumbelow was silent for a few moments, think- 
 ing what this might mean. Then suddenly came the 
 question, "What, Mr. Hooker, are your views on. 
 gambling?" 
 
 "All my life long," replied Hooker j "I have had 
 a horror of gambling. It is, I believe, the cause of 
 incalculable harm. I regard it as one of the most 
 terrible scourges of society." 
 
 "You hit me hard," said Rumbelow, "and you 
 hit me on a sensitive spot. As to my calling — if I 
 may be equally frank — there seems not much to 
 choose between yours and mine. I am a bookmaker j 
 you are a profiteer. Chance has made us both what 
 
 133
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 we are. Only, with me, chance has been scientifically 
 handled. I have worked much harder for my for- 
 tune, Mr. Hooker, than you have for yours. Per- 
 haps for that reason the moralists think me the 
 greater villain. Anyhow, I doubt if either of us can 
 afford to throw stones. Don't you think we might 
 treat one another — well, as neighbours?" 
 
 "In strict justice," said Hooker, "neither of us 
 has one jot or tittle of right to his fortune." 
 
 "And which of us," said the other, "has one jot 
 or tittle of right to be alive?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "Only that the larger chances of life include the 
 lesser. There's a kind of gamble, Mr. Hooker, at 
 the root of human life. Our very existence depends 
 upon the turning of a hair, the flutter of a butter- 
 fly's wing. If you trace out the web of life you will 
 find that the origin of every human individual hangs 
 upon some contingency fine as a gossamer thread. 
 What does your philosopsy make of that?" 
 
 "Nothing," said Hooker. "It is the most inex- 
 plicable thing in the universe. No philosophy can 
 face it." 
 
 "I believe," the bookmaker continued, "that all 
 events are guided and controlled by invisible powers. 
 Our meeting to-night, for example, was unquestion- 
 ably prearranged, and I have little doubt that it 
 will lead on by some unsearchable path to issues of 
 the greatest importance. As a gambler and a student 
 of gambling, I find the invisible world constantly in 
 my thought as a very close reality. A fine estima- 
 tion of odds is the nearest approach the human in- 
 tellect can make to the secret of destiny. The secret 
 
 134
 
 THE MAD MILLIONAIRE 
 
 itself we can never penetrate, but in some of the 
 higher operations of our Firm we come very near 
 to it — surprisingly near, I assure you, so that one 
 feels that another step would carry the mind clean 
 over the boundary which separates the visible from 
 the invisible world — which is much the more real 
 of the two, sir." 
 
 Mr. Hooker sat astonished, not only at what the 
 other was saying, but at the intensity and conviction 
 of his manner. The gravity of a thinker sat upon 
 his brow and the fervour of a devotee was in his 
 voice. He remembered his interview with Polycarp, 
 and how aloof he had seemed to be from his inter- 
 locutor. But with this man he seemed to be stand- 
 ing on his own level, and strangely at home, even 
 though the language spoken was one he could not 
 understand. 
 
 "I don't follow you," he said. "In my view of 
 things chance has no place and no meaning. We are 
 under the reign of law, and everything happens as 
 it must." 
 
 "Perfectly true of natural forces," said Rumbe- 
 low, "but perfectly futile in the affairs of men. Is it 
 not strange, Mr. Hooker, that with all we have learnt 
 about the uniformity of nature and the reign of law, 
 the future of the human race, the thing that con- 
 cerns us most, was never so dark and inscrutable as 
 it is as the present hour. But come to our Office j ask 
 almost any question you choose about an important 
 event in which men are interested, and we will give 
 you the odds on its happening as closely determined 
 as human knowledge can make them." 
 
 "And the end of it all is," said Hooker, "that 
 
 135
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 thousands o£ men and women are being morally 
 ruined. If we learnt that a clerk in our Firm had 
 been betting with yours we should turn him off at 
 a moment's notice." 
 
 "I am not blind to that side of the matter," said 
 the bookmaker. "But look facts in the face. You 
 cannot suppress the gambling spirit 5 it belongs to the 
 nature of life. It is one of the most powerful forces 
 in human society, and will always remain so. The 
 war has enormously increased its power: war and 
 gambling are twin brothers. The soldier has been a 
 gambler since the first wars were made. You saw 
 those men on the platform before the train started. 
 They were men of the battalion I served with at the 
 front — all betting-mad and clamouring for the odds 
 on this and on that. But what are you going to do? 
 It must be taken in hand, controlled, converted to 
 higher uses — the way of all sound reforms. If only 
 men like yourself would cease denouncing the thing, 
 and come over to our side and help us to turn this 
 tremendous force into the right channel, instead of 
 wasting your fine intellects on moral propaganda that 
 interest nobody but yourselves, we should soon have 
 the situation in hand and the world would see a real 
 instance of the union of ideal aims with businesslike 
 methods, and " 
 
 "Stop!" cried Hooker j "your words arrest me. 
 *The union of ideal aims and businesslike methods' 
 ■^'ve been searching for that phrase for weeks. It 
 says what I was trying to say to my lawyer this 
 afternoon — exactly expresses what I mean. Where 
 did you get it?" 
 
 " 'Tis the motto of our Firm," said Rumbelow. 
 
 136
 
 THE MAD MILLIONAIRE 
 
 "But you have not heard the whole of It. 'The 
 union of ideal aims with businesslike methods and 
 sportsmanlike principles,' " 
 
 "I don't understand the last," said Hooker. 
 "'Sportsmanlike principles!' I didn't know there 
 were such things. And, if there are, what have they 
 to do with ideal aims?" 
 
 "Everything. It's the crowning touch j the grow- 
 ing point of the whole enterprise j the jumping-off 
 place for the next great undertaking of the Firm. 
 The three things, sir — ideal aims, businesslike 
 methods, sportsmanlike principles — form the strong- 
 est confederation of spiritual forces ever introduced 
 into human affairs. None of the three is anything 
 without the others. In combination they are irre- 
 sistible." 
 
 Rumbelow spoke rapidly and his eyes flashed. 
 Said Mr. Hooker: 
 
 "I get no further than the 'businesslike methods.' 
 This afternoon I dropped a phrase at my lawyer's 
 which brought him to the same point. I said that I 
 meant to finance the Moral Ideal." 
 
 "Bravo!" cried Rumbelow. 
 
 "But he answered that the Moral Ideal had no 
 business organization j and it was plain that he treated 
 it as the hare-brained notion of a fool." 
 
 "He was a fool to think so," said the other. "It is 
 a perfectly sound proposition — provided you add the 
 sportsmanlike principles. That, sir, is the mission 
 of our Firm; and we intend to carry it into the 
 highest regions of human interest — yes, into re- 
 ligion itself." 
 
 "Mr. Hooker," he went on, "you know something 
 
 137
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 of my history. You think of me doubtless as a man 
 who has had an evil education. 'Tis a mistake. 
 Every stage of my education has been exquisitely 
 adapted to the purpose of my life. Every step has 
 been guided. In no other way could I have learnt 
 what is needed for the carrying out of my designs. 
 In no other way could I have gained control of the 
 forces I am going to employ. In no other way could 
 I have discovered the means of mobilizing wealth for 
 spiritual ends and countering the imbeciles who now 
 misgovern the world. I have done harm, you say. 
 Doubtless. But not one thousandth part of the harm 
 inflicted on mankind by the powers that made you 
 a multimillionaire. The men who wield those powers 
 are gamblers, sir — with this difference between them 
 and me, that they pretend to be something else. They 
 are bunglers at their own game. They handle forces 
 they can't control. Their science is beneath con- 
 tempt. They practise arts which would cause a man 
 in my profession to be instantly expelled from the 
 Turf. I tell you, sir, that Newmarket will go into 
 the Kingdom of Heaven before Westminster and 
 Washington." 
 
 "It is strange," said Mr. Hooker, "that in all this 
 you seem to be saying what I was trying to say to 
 my lawyer this afternoon. I told him, for exam^ple, 
 that all States are, fundamentally, war-making in- 
 stitutions." 
 
 "Conducted by politicians and diners-out who 
 know nothing about war," added Rumbelow. "War, 
 Mr. Hooker, is the supreme gamble in which all the 
 forces of our civilization come to their inevitable 
 issue. Until that is understood wars will never cease. 
 
 138
 
 THE MAD MILLIONAIRE 
 
 And the tragedy is that the men who run the gamble 
 — the politicians and the diners-out — have neither 
 ideal aim, businesslike method, nor sportsmanlike 
 principle. Your own fortune, sir, is neither more nor 
 less than a by-product of a huge, clumsy, stupid 
 gambling transaction set on foot by gamblers of the 
 most incompetent type — the German Emperor, 
 for example: men who do not understand the bare 
 rudiments of the business. You and I ought to be 
 friends. Gambling has enriched you by chance 5 
 me by method." 
 
 "You cannot make me more ashamed of myself 
 than I am," said Hooker. "But all this does not 
 reconcile me to gambling." 
 
 "Then you must go deeper. The business that 
 I conduct is saturated in metaphysics. It rests on 
 the truth that the whole universe is in essence a 
 sporting event. A sportsmanlike principle is inter- 
 v/oven with the very stuiOF of reality. Life itself, 
 INIr. Hooker, if you study its origin, was a win against 
 enormous odds — hence all the greater virtues of 
 mankind, courage, magnanimity, loyalty and love. 
 In the beginning was the wager! The losses have 
 been colossal, unimaginable! Only a Divine uni- 
 verse would have dared to back itself against such 
 odds — or escaped bankruptcy so long. What better 
 proof could you have that the universe is Divine?" 
 
 As the ex-president of the Ethical Society listened 
 to this outburst, half hypnotized by the intense ani- 
 mation of his companion, two feelings alternated in 
 his mind and strove for the mastery. Now it was 
 a feeling of profound relief, as though the heavy 
 burden of his life were falling from his shoulders 
 
 139
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEO\T.R 
 
 and the problem that had baffled him so long on the 
 point of being solved. Now it was a feeling of 
 dream-like bewilderment, as though the occasion, 
 the place, the objects in the carriage, the man before 
 him, were all unreal and about to vanish. 
 
 And so they did, but not by the touch of a spirit 
 hand. 
 
 As Rumbelow was concluding his last sentence 
 Mr. Hooker heard in the far distance a prolonged 
 whistle. It grew rapidly louder and was answered by 
 another near at hand. Rumbelow flung open the 
 window and, leaning far out, peered ahead. 
 
 There was a violent jarj a screech of suddenly 
 arrested wheels j the light thickened j the air grew 
 foul with dust. Then a terrific crash and total dark- 
 ness. 
 
 It was as if all the violence in the world had been 
 suddenly let loose upon the millionaire. He was 
 hurled from side to side, struck in the face, twisted, 
 compressed, suffocated, drenched with water, and at 
 last flung headlong with his mouth in the dust. 
 There he was held tight j he could not move nor see 
 nor speak. But consciousness was alive — the con- 
 sciousness of the unendurable. 
 
 What had happened? He knew not. He remem- 
 bered afterwards how his agony had framed itself 
 into a question, and how he had halted between two 
 opinions. Was he in this world or the next? The 
 next, assuredly 5 and survival, then, was a fact. He 
 was sorry. Why should his mouth be full of dirt? 
 Why should he be held fast in a vice? Was it to be 
 always so? Or was this only the beginning of the 
 
 140
 
 THE MAD MILLIONAIRE 
 
 resurrection? Ha! things were improving already! 
 The weight on his body was growing lighter — he 
 could move his leg. There was air in his face. And 
 surely that was a voice he knew. It was saying: 
 "Lay him on the embankment and put that cushion 
 under his head. Hand me the crowbar — quick! 
 There's another yet." So it was this world after all. 
 
 Time in these things cannot be reckoned: it does 
 not go by the clock. There came a moment, per- 
 haps soon, when Hooker, roused by a sense of new 
 danger, found himself on his feet, trembling and 
 dazed. Not far off a fierce fire was raging, the 
 flames were blowing his way and the hot sparks were 
 stinging him. Close at his feet lay a little girl with 
 broken legs, shrieking with terror and pain. He 
 stooped down, and taking hold of the child by its 
 arms, for he could not lift it, dragged it along with 
 him a little further from the flames. 
 
 He hardly knew where he was. He gazed va- 
 cantly around him, noting the sights, but indifferent 
 to their meaning. Screams, imprecations and horrible 
 cries rent the air and seemed to break out in chorus. 
 Somebody was yelling out the words of the Lord's 
 Prayer j another was calling on Jesus Christ and 
 mingling his name with obscenities. He was aware 
 of figures running hither and thither in the glare 
 and shouting to one another. "Quick with the 
 buckets! " "There's water in the engine! " "Helpers 
 to the rear of the train!" "Shovels and picks this 
 way!" These were the shouts. But there was one 
 sound that fixed his attention more than all the rest. 
 It was the voice of a child calling, "Mother, mother." 
 
 Unable to stand longer he sank down into the 
 
 141
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 seat of a first-class carriage which had been split in 
 two, trying to collect himself, to piece things to- 
 gether. Vague memories of his conversation with 
 Rumbelow haunted him. But what next? The 
 gambling losses of the universe, the great virtues of 
 mankind, loyalty and love, and then — the light goes 
 out, a shock, agony, a resurrection, the next world 
 and then — this world again. There was no in- 
 telligible sequence. He closed his eyes, and as he 
 did so the truth began to dawn upon him. 
 
 There was a hand on his shoulder and he heard a 
 voice. He opened his eyes and saw in front of him 
 the dark figure of a v/oman, her hat gone and her 
 hair hanging in disorder over her shoulders. 
 
 She stood for a moment looking into his face, 
 and then kneeling down gave him a drink of brandy 
 out of a flask. Hooker eagerly swallowed the 
 draught. As he drank there rose before him with 
 visual clearness, and perfect in every detail, a scene 
 from his boyhood, when he had fallen from a horse 
 and his mother kneeling beside him was holding 
 brandy to his lips, exactly as this woman was doing. 
 "Surely she is my mother," he thought j and in a 
 moment his arm was round her neck, he drew her 
 head down to his, kissed her fervently and said, 
 "God bless you, dearest mother" j and he held the 
 woman's face close to his. 
 
 In a moment the illusion broke, his wits returned 
 and he knew where he was and what he had done. 
 "Forgive me," he said, releasing his arm. "The 
 shock had bereft me of my senses. I was in a dream. 
 I thought you were my mother." 
 
 "It was a lovely thing to happen in a hell like 
 
 142
 
 THE MAD MILLIONAIRE 
 
 this," she said. "I shall not forget it." And with- 
 out another word she went away. 
 
 Hooker, greatly revived by the brandy, got upon 
 his feet and followed in the direction the woman had 
 taken, resolved to help if he could. Presently a 
 man, running in the opposite direction, crossed the 
 line to intercept him. It was Rumbelow, wrapped 
 in a steaming wet blanket and with the hair burnt 
 off one side of his head. "Ah, that's good, Mr. 
 Hooker! You had a near shave. The whole mass 
 collapsed the moment after we got you out. WeVe 
 had a terrible struggle at the burning coach, and 
 only saved three. But now, if you can do anything, 
 follow me to the rear of the train. There are sol- 
 diers under the wreckage." 
 
 Hooker followed as best he could, miserably con- 
 scious that he was too sick and unsteady to be of any 
 use. He made his way with difficulty, falling once or 
 twice over obstacles. By the time he reached the end 
 of the train he could stand no longer, and sat down, 
 helpless, on a lady's cabin trunk. In front of him 
 was a third-class coach, tilted on its side and partly 
 telescoped by the one behind itj cries were coming 
 from beneath. Near by two men, dreadfully 
 crushed, lay on the track j they were shrieking and 
 writhing about. Another was brought out by the 
 soldiers, and died almost immediately under his eyes. 
 Rumbelow, with four or five others, passed before 
 him, carrying a broken rail to be used as a lever. The 
 rail was placed in position and a dozen men, hanging 
 their weight upon it, strove in vain to move some 
 huge obstacle. Presently they desisted, and one of 
 them said, "We'll never get him out, sir. There's 
 
 143
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 tons on top of him." Another said, "He's dead al- 
 ready. He's stopped groaning." Then, to belie the 
 last speaker, the voice of the imprisoned man, dis- 
 tinct and piteous. "Is the Major there? Oh, God, 
 I want to speak to the Major." 
 
 "I'm here, sergeant," cried Rumbelow, peering 
 under the wreckage. "Keep up, man. We'll have 
 you out yet." 
 
 The voice replied as before, "Oh, God, I want to 
 speak to the Major," and repeated the words again 
 and again. 
 
 A guard's lamp had been placed on the ground, 
 and by the light of it the top of the man's head 
 could be plainly seen behind a tangle of wheels and 
 timbers. Above the head were his two hands caught 
 between boards and hanging from the broken wrists, 
 like the hands of a man in the pillory. 
 
 Rumbelow flung him.self on the ground, and began 
 to worm his way in. He advanced a few feet, but 
 could get no further. Then he tried at another point, 
 and had nearly reached his object when a piece of 
 wreckage in front of him sank down and the passage 
 was blocked. Again he came out, and starting from 
 the other side made a third attempt. A doctor who 
 was standing by put something into his hand. 
 
 As Rumbelow worked his way in he could hear 
 the man from time to time repeating his cry in a 
 fainter voice. At last, despairing of getting further, 
 he called out, "Now, sergeant, what is it? I can't 
 come any nearer." 
 
 The man gave a reply, but the voice had become 
 a whisper and the words were lost. Then Rumbelow 
 began to pull at the objects in front of him, and one 
 
 144
 
 THE MAD MILLIONAIRE 
 
 of them yielding a little he was able to force his 
 shoulders forward and to bring his head almost into 
 contact with the man's. Immediately above him 
 hung the crushed body of a dog, and its feet, dan- 
 gling down, brushed the back of his neck. 
 
 "The dog's dead, sir," gasped the man. "Bought 
 it for my missus. She's main fond of a dog." 
 
 "I'll buy her another." 
 
 "And send it to Wigan, sir, please. A fox 
 terrier." 
 
 "I will." 
 
 "Put your hand in the front pocket of my tunic, 
 sir. There's forty pound." 
 
 "I have it." 
 
 "And put it on the Blue Bird, sir. And if we win, 
 send the money to the old woman." 
 
 "Sure thing, sergeant." 
 
 "Thank God," said the manj and after a few in- 
 coherent mutterings he sank into his last sleep. 
 
 When Rumbelow emerged from the wreckage he 
 had the appearance of a man who had been rolled 
 in blood. He had been lying in a pool of it, while 
 the blood of the suspended dog, dripping on to his 
 head and shoulders, had done the rest. A cheer 
 greeted him from the group of soldiers, and the 
 doctor began asking him questions. 
 
 "I'm not hurt," said Rumbelow, "only filthy raid 
 sick. I must sit down. And here's your opium. It 
 wasn't needed. The man's dead." 
 
 Then his eye fell upon Hooker, seated on the 
 cabin trunk a few yards oflF. As he crossed the line 
 he said to the guard, who was holding the lamp, 
 "Go down the train and try to find My Lady. She 
 
 145
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 has some brandy." Then he sat down beside Hooker 
 on the cabin trunk. 
 
 For some minutes the two millionaires sa,t thus in 
 silence side by side, Rumbelow unable to speak. 
 Presently the guard stood in front of them with a 
 flask of brandy in his hand, "My Lady will be here 
 directly, sir," he said. "She's helping a doctor. I 
 told her you weren't hurt." 
 
 "This gentleman first," said Rumbelow, as the 
 guard handed him the brandy. And for a moment 
 the two men, feeble as they were, seemed inclined 
 to dispute. The guard decided the quarrel. Hold- 
 ing the brandy to Rumbelow's lips he forced him 
 to drink J and the other drank after him. 
 
 "And now, if you can, tell me what happened," 
 said Hooker. 
 
 "I took a bet," said the bookmaker, "and I have 
 been very near to the invisible world. The man's 
 dead." 
 
 Hooker replied: "I want to say one thing, and to 
 say it while I can. I have heard of many heroic 
 deeds, but have never seen one before. The one I 
 have just seen has made a deeper impression than the 
 thousands I have heard about." 
 
 "I tell you," said the other, "I was making a bet. 
 It was all in the way of business." And he told what 
 had happened. 
 
 Another voice interrupted him. "You're sure you 
 are not hurt, dearest?" it said. And Hooker, look- 
 ing up, saw with astonishment the woman who had 
 given him the brandy, bending over the bloody figure 
 of Rumbelow. 
 
 "Not at all," was the answer. "Only my old 
 
 146
 
 THE MAD MILLIONAIRE 
 
 wound hurts a bit. But let me present a companion 
 in distress." 
 
 "Oh," she cried, "we are friends already! Mr. 
 Hooker presented himself just now in the most 
 beautiful way imaginable. He shall tell you about 
 it himself. But not now. Come along, both of you. 
 The relief train is up, and we can do nothing more." 
 And the three moved off in silence down the line. 
 
 As they were going a soldier ran after them. 
 "Excuse me, sir," he said, addressing Rumbelow, 
 "but all of us in our carriage were backing the same 
 'oss as the sergeant." 
 
 "How many?" asked the bookmaker. 
 
 "Well, sir, there was thirteen of us to begin with — 
 unlucky number, sir — but three, that's includin' the 
 sergeant, are killed j there's six safe, and the rest 
 casualties. Two can't speak." 
 
 "Ten in all, then. Write out your bets and post 
 them to the office." 
 
 "What about them two as can't speak, sir?" 
 
 "Put them in along with the rest. I'll be respon- 
 sible." 
 
 "And what about the dead men, sir. One of 'em 
 leaves a widow and five children." 
 
 "Double their stakes. I'll be responsible for them 
 too." 
 
 "Thank you, sirj if ever there was a real sports- 
 man livin', it's you, sir, though pardon the liberty." 
 
 The soldier left them. The woman, linking her 
 arm in her husband's, said, "That, dearest, is not 
 business." 
 
 "Good enough for this hell," said Rumbelow. 
 
 And what was Mr. Hooker thinking as he listened 
 
 147
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 to these things? Perhaps he was not thinking at 
 all, but exercising some deeper faculty which the ex- 
 perts have not yet named. 
 
 One might suppose that with such an exhibition of 
 violence under his eyes, he would at all events have 
 been in no doubt as to the reality of an external 
 world. The actual effect was precisely opposite. 
 Things visible and material seemed not to have es- 
 tablished, but to have destroyed themselves. To 
 his own consciousness at that moment he was a 
 broken thing in a broken world, where logic had ex- 
 ploded in the general shock, and where everything 
 that happened was incredible. All that he saw about 
 him, all that he heard, all that he felt even, seemed 
 unconvincing and unimportant. The wrecked train, 
 the horrible mess, the clouds of dust and steam were 
 signs of a universal collapse in which his own per- 
 sonality had broken up along with everything else. 
 The voices of Rumbelow and the soldiers were dream 
 voices j their proceedings fantastic and irrational. 
 The pains that shot through his body, the faintness, 
 the nausea, the laboured breadth, the dizzy brain — at 
 one moment he would feel these things as his own, at 
 the next he would observe them from a centre of 
 complete indifference, as though they were the 
 miseries of another person in whom he had no in- 
 terest. Then it would seem to him that what had 
 happened did not matter in the least, and if the skies 
 had fallen in upon the ruin it would have made no 
 difference. 
 
 Rumbelow and My Lady were walking on in 
 front, the man leaning heavily on the frailer form 
 of the woman. Hooker followed close behind, sup- 
 
 148
 
 THE MAD MILLIONAIRE 
 
 porting his steps with a broken umbrella he had 
 picked up on the line, and aware that he might fall 
 at any moment. As he watched the two in front 
 there came over him the sense of a cruel and in- 
 equitable contrast. "Here is this man," he thought, 
 "leaning on a woman who belongs to him, and here 
 am I leaning on an umbrella that belong to some- 
 body else. The universe is fundamentally unjust." 
 
 He struggled on, full of contempt for the um- 
 brella and hungry to share the strong support he 
 saw in front. "If only I could lay hold of that 
 woman's arm," his thought went on, "I should know 
 where I was. I should stagger no morej I should 
 rest upon the only firm and solid thing that is left 
 in the world. Why should Rumbelow have it all?" 
 
 His resources were coming to an end. Making a 
 desperate effort to hurry forward and overtake the 
 object of his desire, his limbs suddenly gave way 
 beneath him and he fell heavily on the line. As he 
 fell he clutched at the woman's skirts, and words 
 came to his lips which he had used to another woman 
 few days before. 
 For pity's sake, my dear lady, take me some- 
 where. I am completely lost." 
 
 In the relief train the three were separated. 
 Hooker was laid on a stretcher and placed with many 
 others in the guard's van. As he lay there his mind 
 wandered among confused and terrible images, find- 
 ing no rest. 
 
 Little by little his thought took definite form and 
 concentrated upon a point. "Had not Rumbelow 
 saved my life," it ran, "those accursed millions would 
 
 149 
 
 A 
 
 ii
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 now belong to the Society for Ethical Culture. I 
 have yet to make my Will." 
 
 He was greatly troubled. Now the trouble would 
 seem to expand and blow itself out to immense pro- 
 portions until it lost its outlines in the realms of non- 
 sense. Now it would contract again and return to 
 a burning focus in the problem of his Will. And 
 along with this a conviction that there was only one 
 way of escape. He must throw away his broken um- 
 brella and get a firm grip on the woman's arm. 
 The guard, standing over him, noticed that from 
 time to time he would fling out his hands and clutch 
 at something that seemed to be eluding his grasp. 
 
 150
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 The Transfiguration of a Mouse 
 
 "|\/jriDNIGHT had passed on the day of the acci- 
 -^^-^ dent when the millionaire, in complete col- 
 lapse, his clothes torn, his face covered with dirt, was 
 delivered by the driver of an ambulance into the 
 hands of his chauffeur and head gardener, who had 
 been anxiously awaiting their master's arrival. By 
 them he was carried upstairs on the stretcher and 
 deposited upon his bedj the housekeeper was then 
 roused and a consultation held. Should Mrs. Hooker 
 be summoned? The suggestion was immediately 
 negatived by a decisive shake of the head from Mr. 
 Hooker. An hour later a doctor was in attendance, 
 and shortly after a trained nurse. Matters, so said 
 the doctor, looked serious. 
 
 In the days that followed Mr. Hooker gained for 
 the first time in his long life a direct, experimental 
 knowledge of the disagreeable process of dying. 
 Most men who pass through the penultimate stage 
 of death go on to the last, and so leave no witness be- 
 hind them. But it had been ordained for the million- 
 aire that, as yet, he was not to die, but only to make 
 a very close acquaintance with death as a positive 
 factor in life. Hitherto he had treated it as nega- 
 tive, as a thing or a no-thing which must not be 
 suffered to trouble the thoughts of a wise man. Ac- 
 
 151
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 cording to the admirable philosophy on which his 
 conduct of life had been founded, we must continue 
 our efforts to improve the world, without reference 
 to the certainty that the more we improve it the 
 more men lose when they die. With death as a fact 
 of daily occurrence, Mr. Hooker was, of course, 
 thoroughly familiar j but neither its normal ravages 
 in times of peace nor its abnormal ravages during the 
 war had undone his conviction that it should be 
 treated as a negligible or negative thing. It is true 
 that the death of his three sons had shaken him at 
 that point, giving him a vague sense that there was 
 something out of perspective in his picture of life. 
 From the philosophical point of view, however, all 
 that was a mere weakness, to be rebuked by the well- 
 known saying of Spinoza, He knew by heart all 
 the tunes which philosophers whistle to keep up their 
 courage when passing the cemetery. 
 
 But now he was making his approach to death on 
 the ground of personal experience, which, philoso- 
 phers may be reminded, is a very different thing 
 from speculation about it. Death, like most abstrac- 
 tions, is presumably unreal, but dying has a distinct 
 savour of reality. Mr. Hooker began in fact to 
 die, and so rapidly as to leave in those about him 
 little hope of his recovery. It was, to him, a poign- 
 ant experience. The physical shock, supervening 
 on a period of mental tension which had long been 
 taxing his vitality, brought him down, by no prim- 
 rose path, to the very gates of the grave, salting him 
 with fire at every step of the way, both in body and 
 in mind. That permanent possibility of pain which 
 physiologists call the nervous system had been cen- 
 
 152
 
 TRANSFIGURATION OF A MOUSE 
 
 trally attacked j and, through the broken barriers 
 and the open gates, the imprisoned fury poured into 
 his field of consciousness like an inundation. Storms 
 of pain overtook him at intervals 3 they would en- 
 gulf him 3 they would blot out his awareness o£ 
 everything else, turning his whole being into an 
 impersonal sea of agony, with no meaning save that 
 which was expressed in the moaning of its waves. 
 The pain over, he would fall into a lassitude so 
 extreme that he wondered if he were not already 
 dead 3 the objects about him would become insub- 
 stantial, the light a mere attenuated darkness. There 
 were nights of fever, when he would struggle for 
 long hours to break away from his self-conscious- 
 ness, battling with it as with a nightmare 3 and these 
 would be followed by days of depression, when the 
 thin blood, propelled by a feeble pulse, was hardly 
 vitalized enough to maintain the sense of his identity. 
 And sometimes, when depression was at its lowest, 
 there would suddenly occur moments of elation, of 
 strange and delightful discoveries, of illumination 
 and peace — perhaps due to the action of an opiate, 
 perhaps the work of the Holy Ghost. On these 
 occasions he would become acutely conscious that he 
 was in the near presence of death 3 he would wonder 
 what was coming next, intensely curious, as though 
 the romance of his life were about to begin. 
 
 Through all the phases of this experience there 
 ran a ground tissue, sometimes reduced to a mere 
 thread, which connected everything else with the 
 scenes of the accident. From that point the images 
 in his mind seemed to originate, and to that, how- 
 ever far they might have wandered afield, they 
 
 153
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 would always come back at last. Around this 
 imagery he would weave all kinds of queer philo- 
 sophical problems and wrestle with them in his night- 
 mare dreams. They would haunt him in the day- 
 time and return with a variation next night. "Is 
 life worth the fuss we make about it?" "Why does 
 the world break our bones when we are trying to 
 leave it a little better than we found it?" "Whence 
 comes the splendour that breaks out of things when 
 they are at their very worst?" "Why does the uni- 
 verse listen indifferently to the lectures of the Ethi- 
 cal Society about the Supreme Good, and to^ the 
 screams of women enduring the Supreme Evil in 
 a burning coach? " "Where can I find a ship manned 
 by great souls, that I may sail off with them into 
 the everlasting Silence?" These were some of the 
 problems afterwards remembered and noted down. 
 The last returned again and again. Sometimes he 
 would see a ship, now a great one with spreading 
 sails, now a boat manned with oars 5 it was moored 
 a little distance from the shore j on the deck stood 
 the bloody figure of Rumbelow, with his hair burnt 
 off, and beside him his wife holding a bran(;^y flask 
 and beckoning him to come on board. These two 
 were always there, but they were never alone. Be- 
 hind them stood others, more dimly seen, who would 
 vary and change into each other — Miss Wolfstone, 
 his three sons, the nurse who attended him, and a 
 little boy dressed as a pirate. He would take a great 
 leap towards them, hoping to alight on the ship, and 
 would find himself falling, falling, into a bottomless 
 
 abyss. 
 
 Often as he lay awake during the daytime the 
 
 154
 
 TRANSFIGURATION OF A MOUSE 
 
 things about him would seem half real, thinning 
 themselves down into shadows, into ghosts. The wall 
 opposite looked like a mass of suspended grey, and 
 once when the doctor leaned against it he wondered 
 why he did not fall through. The dream world and 
 the waking world would change places. He spent 
 long hours in a vain effort to determine which was 
 which, but always came back to the conviction that 
 the room about him was not real, and that the 
 being who lay outstretched on the bed was not 
 himself. 
 
 Though the proximate causes of all this lay, no 
 dcubt, in bodily conditions and in the immediate 
 train of events which had led up to them, there were 
 remoter causes with a far deeper root in Mr. 
 Hooker's life. A man's nightmares, like his day- 
 dreams, are not unrelated to his character, and often 
 betray, when closely scrutinized, the preparations of 
 a lifetime. One of his experiences, which he re- 
 corded with particular care as soon as he was able 
 to write, and passed on to a few intimate friends, 
 clearly presupposes a distinct atmosphere, and could 
 hardly have occurred save to one whose nature had 
 long been nourished by dealings with the moral ideal. 
 It happened a few days after the worst was over. 
 Hooker being then in the first stage of his return 
 journey from the gates of death. 
 
 The only person in whose presence he had taken 
 any interest during his illness was one of the two 
 nurses, a woman of fifty — thoughtful, intelligent 
 and, as Mr. Hooker was quick to perceive, highly 
 conscientious. With her he would from time to time 
 exchange such scraps of conversation as the inter- 
 
 155
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 mittent lucidity of his mind permitted him to main- 
 tain. He found her sympathetic, and felt instinc- 
 tively that her skill was merely a fine form in which 
 natural kindness expressed itself. With that strange 
 insight which leads the heavy-laden to find one 
 another out, he divined that she, too, had received 
 more than her share of the burden of lifej and once, 
 acting on his intuition, he said to her quite suddenly, 
 "Nurse, is there no one to deliver us from this intol- 
 erable load?" The woman paused in her work, as 
 though her own thought had been uttered, and he 
 knew from the way she looked at him that he had 
 spoken home. 
 
 Some hours afterwards, the time being then about 
 ten at night, a strong desire to be left alone came over 
 him, and he asked the nurse accordingly to turn out 
 the lights and leave him. This she did, the room 
 being still partly illuminated by the bright fire burn- 
 ing in the grate. 
 
 When she was gone and the room silent, the queer 
 thought suddenly took possession of Hooker that 
 the silence was the sound of his own life. It seemed 
 to him a wonderful thing, and he sat up in bed to 
 listen to it. Presently the sound of the silence was 
 broken into by another, very faint. It was the gentle 
 gnawing of a mouse behind the wainscot. Of this, 
 after a time, he became acutely conscious — not in 
 irritation, but in expectancy, as though it presaged 
 the coming of some great event. Very slowly the 
 new sound seemed to enlarge and multiply j at first 
 almost inaudible and then increasing by continuous 
 change within itself until the silence was full of it. 
 It was the evenness of the crescendo which fascinated 
 
 156
 
 TRANSFIGURATION OF A MOUSE 
 
 the listener j and this also he found wonderful and 
 amazing. 
 
 Then the gnawing ceased, and Hooker, intensely 
 alert, fixed his eyes on the corner of the room from 
 which it had come. A moment later the mouse itself 
 appeared on the floor, a tiny apparition born from 
 nowhere in particular, now creeping warily in search 
 of fallen crumbs, now darting with incredible velocity 
 from point to point, now vanishing in a flash at the 
 sound of a footstep outside. It was here, it was 
 there i it came and it wentj it was and it was not. 
 As for Hooker, no marvel he had ever seen or 
 heard of could compare with the gorgeous mys- 
 tery of the self-originated movements of this little 
 beast. 
 
 At last the creature came to a pause, sat upon its 
 hind legs, turned towards Hooker, and lifting its 
 forefeet began demurely to clean its face. The effect 
 on the millionaire was overwhelming. In an instant 
 it was as though all the values in the universe had 
 inverted themselves and become concentrated in the 
 being of the mouse. What importance, what ade- 
 quacy, what completeness! It seemed a focus of 
 intense but calm luminosity, where all forces, prob- 
 lems, agitations came to restj the centre of a universe 
 radiating perfection upon all its surroundings till 
 they became transfigured; the minute growing point 
 of a renovated world. Such was the vision, if vision 
 it was. As Hooker gazed upon the astonishing thing 
 and felt the room and all the objects in it reverberat- 
 ing with the splendours that streamed from the cen- 
 tral point, the whole burden of life fell from himj 
 his problems seemed to solve themselves j or rather 
 
 157
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 they mattered not at allj they were empty phan- 
 toms. But this was realj and the conviction seized 
 him that the essence of things was altogether lovely 
 and lovable, that the ultimates were secure, and that 
 he himself would be kindly dealt with at the last. 
 Till that moment he had never known, or even 
 dreamed, what happiness really is. 
 
 And now the nurse had entered the room. Again 
 it was her movement that attracted him. It was an 
 astonishment, a delight, a pageant of beauty beyond 
 utterance. Whithersoever the spirit went, she went, 
 impelled by self-actuated forces, which seemed to 
 link her with all nature, with the rolling tides and 
 the flowing winds and the courses of the everlasting 
 stars and the rivers of eternal life. She walked in 
 glory J her nurse's garments made music as she 
 passed j her plain and patient features were no morej 
 it was an angel from Paradise that was offering him 
 food. 
 
 "Nurse," he said quietly, as she bent over him, 
 "you are a radiant and wonderful being!" 
 
 She gazed at him in astonishment, in alarm. An 
 hour earlier she had left him a wasted, weary man 
 looking ten years older than he was. Now he was 
 ten years younger, perfectly calm and self-possessed, 
 but every feature in his face aglow. 
 
 "You are wonderfully better, sir," she said. 
 
 "I feel a new life in me," he answered. "The 
 truth is I have just made a great discovery, in which 
 you, and everything, seem to participate. This world 
 is a queer place, nurse." 
 
 "Some people would give it a worse name than 
 that," she answered. 
 
 158
 
 TRANSFIGUR.4TION OF A MOUSE 
 
 "They are wrong," said Hooker with decision j 
 "they should give it a better." 
 
 "But what was the great discovery, Mr. Hooker?" 
 
 "Promise," he said with a smile, "that you will not 
 report me to the doctors to-morrow for being out of 
 my mind, and I will tell you." 
 
 "I promise," she answered. 
 
 "Well, then — / have just seen a mouse as it really 
 is. And I can tell you that it really is something ten 
 thousand times more wonderful than it seems to be. 
 So are you. So is everything in the world." 
 
 The nurse, sorely puzzled and not knowing what 
 to say, went away from the bedside and stood gazing 
 into the fire. After a little she turned to Mr. Hooker 
 and said: 
 
 "You may remember that Jesus Christ used to see 
 the flowers as they really arej" and she quoted the 
 words about the lilies of the field. 
 
 "Ha!" he cried, "that rings true! But I had for- 
 gotten it. Thirty years ago I dismissed all that from 
 my life, because I abhorred the use that has been 
 made of it. Since then I have hardly opened the 
 New Testament except to find a quotation now and 
 then. Perhaps I have been wrong. I must read it 
 again. Perhaps to-morrow." 
 
 "If you will allow me," she said, "I will read it 
 aloud to you." 
 
 That night Hooker slept well. Next day the doc- 
 tor was jubilant at the change. Before leaving he 
 drew the nurse aside. 
 
 "Anything peculiar last night?" he asked. "Any 
 more queer fancies?" 
 
 "Not a trace," she answered. "He was perfectly 
 
 159
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 self-collected, and talked in the most sensible man- 
 ner imaginable." 
 
 "He is distinctly better," said the doctor. 
 
 "I am sure he is," said the nurse. 
 
 For more than a week the readings from the New 
 Testament went on, Mr. Hooker steadily recovering 
 day by day. At the end of that time they had read 
 through the Four Gospels, the major Epistles of St. 
 Paul, the Epistles of St. John and the Book of 
 Revelation, Hooker making no comments meanwhile, 
 but promising the nurse to give her his impressions 
 when they had finished. 
 
 "I think," he said at length, "what I have thought 
 and often said during the last thirty years, that the 
 least Christian thing in the world is Christianity — 
 not, of course, as it exists in simple lives, but as men 
 have set it out in books and creeds and churches. But 
 I had no idea till now that the original was so good, 
 so penetrating, so powerful and so generous. The 
 misconceptions about Jesus Christ are really scan- 
 dalous. It is a terrible misfortune that the churches 
 and the chapels have captured him. I imagine that 
 the real man was about as unlike the current concep- 
 tions of him as two things could possibly be to one 
 another. But perhaps I offend you?" 
 
 "Far from it," said the nurse; "I have often 
 thought these things but never dared to say them." 
 
 "Coming to it all afresh after so long an interval," 
 he went on, "it makes a surprising impression — an 
 impression of something the flat opposite of the 
 mournful thing that passes current as Christianity, 
 with its funeral airs and its incubus of a God. It 
 
 160
 
 TRANSFIGURATION OF A MOUSE 
 
 seems to me, now, as though it were the proclamation 
 of a great holiday for the spirit of man. Essentially 
 a festive thing — a song, not a sermon. Those clos- 
 ing discourses of St. John, for instance, are full of 
 high spirits — simply exuberant j there is nothing 
 there in the minor keyj and then that passage about 
 drinking wine in the Father's Kingdom, and most of 
 all the Parable of the Prodigal Son, which culminates 
 in a merry-making. And the lilies of the field that 
 make a mock of Solomon and all his glories j and the 
 sparrows, not one of which is forgotten before God! 
 The infinite importance of the particular! The 
 vision of the hidden beauty of the world! It all 
 bears upon that. Why, nurse, if Jesus of Nazareth 
 were to walk into this room, he would tell you, as 
 I did, that you are a radiant and wonderful woman." 
 
 "Perhaps if he were to tell me so, I should believe 
 it," said the nurse. 
 
 "You touch on an interesting point," he answered. 
 "When you were reading I was constantly struck by 
 the extraordinary power he had over women. They 
 were always about him and were deeply implicated 
 in his life. Some of his finest sayings come out in 
 conversation with them. With the Woman of Sam- 
 aria, for example, he reaches his very highest point. 
 He seems to have required their presence as an in- 
 centive to his genius — a thing I have often observed 
 in men of exceptionally fine nature. I find him 
 joyous and even romantic — as unlike as possible to 
 the hortatory personage he is commonly supposed to 
 have been. But I must not go on." 
 
 "Oh, do," she replied. "I have been longing to 
 hear this for twenty years." 
 
 161
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 "I suspect," said Hooker, "that if women had 
 drawn up the creeds of the Church they would have 
 given a very different version of the Christian re- 
 ligion from the horrible travesty men have made of 
 it. At least they wouldn't have lost the keynote, as 
 men have done. After all, the Magdalen under- 
 stood him far better than St. Peter. I wish she had 
 written a Gospel." 
 
 "Don't you think," asked the nurse, "that some of 
 her memories have been preserved?" 
 
 "Renan thought so. In several of the passages 
 you read I was conscious of a woman's touch. In the 
 stories about children, for example, I seemed to be 
 in direct contact with a woman's mind. I wonder 
 that people are not aware of it. Probably they are 
 blinded by the Church and Chapel conventions that 
 have been woven round the whole subject. What a 
 pity!" 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said the nurse. "But you seem to 
 have forgotten the Cross, Mr. Hooker. Does that 
 belong to the festival?" 
 
 "There is something strange about that, which I 
 can't quite penetrate yet, and must think over. But 
 while you were reading that part of the story it 
 seemed to link itself on, in a very remarkable man- 
 ner, to the impression I got of you a few days ago, 
 and that still lingers with me. Does the Cross mean 
 anything to youF" 
 
 "It is the part of Christianity that I am best 
 acquainted with," said the nurse, and the tears swam 
 in her eyes. 
 
 "I thought so," said Hooker 5 "and there, I im- 
 agine, we have something in common." 
 
 162
 
 TRANSFIGURATION OF A MOUSE 
 
 Not many days afterwards, nothing to the purpose 
 having been said in the meantime, Hooker again re- 
 turned to the subject. 
 
 "That was a strange experience of mine the other 
 night," he said. "It still goes on reverberating, 
 though the echoes are growing fainter every day. I 
 was like a man going down into a dark chasm until 
 I reached at last the central blackness of the pit. 
 Then I took one step more, and came out, to my 
 immense surprise, into the most radiant and joyous 
 surroundings. I have been asking myself whether It 
 was an abnormal occurrence or whether it may not 
 be after all a natural sequence in the order of the 
 world — the best and the worst meeting, so to speak, 
 at their extremities." 
 
 "I think it was natural," said the nurse j "things 
 often turn out like that." 
 
 "I am glad you think so," said Hooker. "I should 
 be sorry if the experience were morbid or unnatural. 
 But now it is passing off and the world grows almost 
 as grey as ever. I wish I could capture that moment 
 and retain the spirit of it." 
 
 "You should do a good deed," said the nurse. 
 "You should give somebody a cup of cold water." 
 
 "I have thought of that, too," replied the mil- 
 lionaire; "but the trouble is that I can't think of any 
 deed good enough for the purpose." 
 
 "A very little thing would do it," she answered. 
 
 "Have you — have you found that so yourself?" 
 
 "It's my profession," said the nurse; "what I am 
 paid for and earn my living by." 
 
 "Then I shall turn the tables on you," said 
 Hooker, and a smile came into his face which seemed 
 
 163
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 to betoken that the joyous experience had not alto- 
 gether passed away. 
 
 She looked at him in surprise. "What do you 
 mean?" she asked. 
 
 "As I said," he went on, "I have been thinking 
 about a deed to commemorate the occasion and to 
 capture the spirit of it. And I have hit upon one 
 which springs naturally out of the circumstances — 
 not good enough, but good as far as it goes. When I 
 recover, one of my first acts will be to place you in a 
 position of complete independence." 
 
 "Impossible!" she cried. "No, no — you don't 
 understand, Mr. Hooker. Nothing in this world 
 would induce me to give up my profession. / should 
 be selling the Cross.'* 
 
 "I expected you to say something of the kind, 
 though not to put it in that way," said Hooker. "But 
 you needn't give up your profession. I shall merely 
 place you in a position where you can choose for your- 
 self whether you will give it up or not." 
 
 She seemed bewildered, and Hooker went on. 
 
 "Whenever a gift is in question two wills are in- 
 volved — the will of the giver and the will of the 
 receiver. I cannot give unless you consent to receive. 
 I ask your will to co-operate with mine in doing the 
 very thing you said I ought to do. You cannot 
 refuse." 
 
 "But it will be misunderstood," said the nurse. 
 
 "Doubtless," replied Hooker. "But for my part 
 I am long past the point where I could attach the 
 least importance to the misunderstandings of the 
 world. And so, I imagine, are you." 
 
 Once again tears swam in the woman's eyes, and 
 
 164
 
 TRANSFIGURATION OF A MOUSE 
 
 from the way she thanked him Hooker knew that 
 he was doing a good deed. And the conviction was 
 so reassuring and so pleasant as to leave no doubt 
 in his mind that he had caught the very spirit he 
 wished to commemorate. For the first time a light 
 seemed to dawn on the problem which had so long 
 been haunting him. He had, in fact, embarked upon 
 a road on which he was to travel far. It was as 
 though his dream was beginning to come truej as 
 though, at last, after his many fallings into the 
 abyss, he was actually on board "the Ship of Great 
 Souls," with whom he was destined to sail away into 
 the silence. 
 
 165
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 Mr. Hooker Faces the Worst 
 
 IX/jTR. HOOKER, as we have told, had trained 
 ■^^■^ himself to "systematize" his conduct under a 
 unitary law of action. But when he asked himself, 
 as he presently did, how far his promise to the nurse 
 conformed to his Great Principle of "so affirming his 
 own personality as to help others to affirm theirs," 
 he became involved in some mental confusion. He 
 found that if he made certain large assumptions 
 about the nurse, and about himself, and looked at the 
 matter from a carefully chosen angle of vision, the 
 action and the Principle seemed in tolerable accord. 
 But if he dropped the assumptions and changed the 
 angle of vision, and imagined certain contingencies, 
 there was no making the two fit one another. From 
 one point of view, which he was unconsciously de- 
 termined not to take, the action looked extremely 
 rash. It might be fraught with disastrous conse- 
 quences to the personality of the nurse and of other 
 people, including his own. And he began to won- 
 der whether, after all, there might not be some truth 
 in the doctrine of the Will-to-believe. But that 
 question did not disturb his fundamental serenity 
 of mind. 
 
 At an earlier time these theoretical difficulties 
 would have given Mr. Hooker an uneasy conscience, 
 
 166
 
 MR. HOOKER FACES THE WORST 
 
 would have worried him during the daytime, kept 
 him awake at night, and led him into many long 
 and inconclusive arguments with his friends in the 
 Society for Ethical Culture. But now, though he was 
 fully aware of the existence of these conundrums, 
 they seemed to him of no weight. The promise that 
 he had just given to this woman, of whom he knew 
 little, sprang so naturally out of the circumstances, 
 was so entirely in keeping with the joyous tone and 
 the radiant atmosphere of his recent experience, and 
 so exactly expressed the spirit he wished to com- 
 memorate, as to give him an inner assurance that 
 he was doing right — an assurance without which he 
 was incapable of undertaking any deliberate action. 
 To tell the truth, he was a little astonished at him- 
 self j but it was a pleasing astonishment, such as a 
 man may feel when he makes an interesting dis- 
 covery. And the pleasure was further enhanced on 
 finding that Mr. Polycarp, an extremely critical man 
 of the world, after a few professional hesitations, 
 gave the business his emphatic approval and promptly 
 began his part of it. Doubtless Mr. Polycarp had 
 been making inquiries, but had he known how far 
 Mr. Hooker, once started on this new track, was 
 destined to go, he would have expressed himself dif- 
 ferently. 
 
 Mr. Hooker's illness, and the experiences which 
 attended it, had for the time being taken him out of 
 the atmosphere of the insoluble problems that were 
 haunting his life. But, as he had told the nurse, the 
 world about him was now losing this fleeting radi- 
 ance, and sinking back again into its customary grey; 
 which meant that his problems were returning. 
 
 167
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 They were the problems of a high-principled man 
 whose principles were no match for his circumstances, 
 and which, as a matter of fact, he could not apply. 
 It had fallen to his lot to summarize in his own per- 
 son the essential conditions of the harassed and aim- 
 less civilization into which he had been born, a civili- 
 zation which has set itself to heap up riches without 
 knowing who should gather them, or for what pur- 
 pose they ought to be gathered. To the ungoverned 
 forces of this social maelstrom he owed the position 
 in which he found himself j they had thrust his 
 wealth upon him, they had slain his sons, they had 
 ruined his life. By creating the war they had created 
 his problems, which had been tossed up as it were 
 out of the boiling confusion of the world, and as- 
 signed to him for solution. Why to him rather 
 than to anybody else? As well might we ask why 
 Simon of Cyrene was suddenly pounced upon by the 
 Roman legionaries, haled out of the crowd, and com- 
 pelled to bear the cross of Jesus Christ. 
 
 Of all Mr. Hooker's burdens, by far the heaviest 
 and the ugliest, but the least spoken of, waited for 
 him daily in his own horne — his wife! Under the 
 shock of a grief greater than her affectionate nature 
 could bear, an hereditary taint had suddenly declared 
 itself j the imprisoned thing, once at large, worked 
 havoc 5 and in six months she had become a terrible 
 wreck — her mind unhinged by an irresistible craving 
 for alcohol, and constantly infuriated by a violent 
 antipathy towards her husband. A set of apartments 
 in the vast and gloomy mansion had been allotted to 
 her; there she lived almost a prisoner, guarded by 
 two trained attendants. All that science could sug- 
 
 168
 
 MR. HOOKER FACES THE WORST 
 
 gest, every influence, every entreaty that could be 
 thought of, had been tried in vain. 
 
 Day and night this dreadful thing kept its watch 
 over Hooker's life. What was he to do? How 
 apply his Great Principle to a situation like that? 
 At this point, as at so many others. Hooker felt that 
 he was no longer steering his ship by chart and 
 compass, but battling for life in a hungry and merci- 
 less sea. And who would pity a multimillionaire? 
 Who imagine that he was not the most enviable of 
 mankind? Great God, if they had only known! 
 
 One day, when convalescence was well advanced, 
 Mr. Hooker, who so far had spoken no word about 
 his wife, directed the nurse to inquire whether it was 
 possible for her to see him. He was well aware that 
 if this had been possible before, it would have been 
 done J and her continued absence had told him all he 
 needed to know. It was a thing of which he could 
 not bring himself to speak. 
 
 The nurse left the room and presently returned 
 with the report that Mrs. Hooker was too ill to see 
 him that day. He knew what that meant, and his 
 countenance fell. 
 
 A moment later the door was thrown violently 
 open, and Mrs. Hooker, maddened with drink, her 
 hair dishevelled, her clothes wet and torn, flung her- 
 self into the room — an appalling apparition. Stand- 
 ing at the foot of the bed and grasping the brass rail 
 with both hands, so that force would be needed to 
 remove her, she poured out a flood of accusations. 
 
 "Where are my sons, you villain?" she cried. 
 "Where is George? Where is Edward? Where is 
 Alec? They are mine, not yours! I brought them 
 
 169
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 into the world! I went down into the valley of death 
 three times for their sakes! You didn't! You have 
 sold them! You have sold my property! Millions 
 have been paid you for their blood! To hell with 
 you and your money ! Judas ! " 
 
 The dreadful scene lasted but a few seconds. The 
 attendant from whom she had escaped in the night 
 was quickly on the spot and the poor woman was 
 taken away. This was the last time that Hooker 
 saw his wife. When she was gone he lay for hours 
 thinking of what she had once been and of what 
 she now was. He was drinking the very dregs of 
 his cup: 
 
 "Nessun maggior dolore 
 Che recordisi del tempo f elice 
 Nella miseria." 
 
 A week later her superhuman cunning again de- 
 feated the vigilance of her guardians. For a day 
 and a night no trace could be found of her. On the 
 second day her dead body was discovered in an out- 
 house of the home farm, where she had secreted a 
 store of champagne under a heap of straw, by what 
 means no one knew. She had evidently determined 
 to destroy herself in this manner. In the neck of 
 one of the empty bottles that lay around her she 
 had inserted a scrap of paper, on which she had 
 scrawled directions as to where and how she wished 
 to be buried, adding at the end: "George, Edward, 
 Alec: Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!" 
 
 When the news was broken to Hooker he merely 
 remarked: "I shall attend her funeral." The rest 
 of the day he spent alone. 
 
 170
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 
 And Discovers the Unreal 
 
 IN our dreams we are all familiar with the broken 
 sequence, the interrupted continuity, the irra- 
 tional new start. It is this perhaps that most dis- 
 tinguishes dreams from waking experience. A train 
 of images will maintain its coherence up to a certain 
 point, and then suddenly slide off into another which 
 has no connection with what has gone before. You 
 are in a railway carriage conversing with an intimate 
 friend J a moment later, without any noticeable tran- 
 sition, you are in a wood fighting a duel with an un- 
 known antagonist. You are outside Salisbury 
 Cathedral admiring its beauties; you enter and find 
 yourself without the least surprise inside the Albert 
 Hall listening to a political speech. You are at the 
 side of a river, looking at the opposite bank and won- 
 dering how you can get across; then without making 
 any passage you are across, looking at the bank you 
 have just left. In the waking world there are nat- 
 ural transitions from point to point, in the dream- 
 world the transitions are either unnatural or want- 
 ing altogether; and for that reason, chiefly, our 
 dreams seem unreal and meaningless. 
 
 Extreme suddenness, occurring at important points 
 of life, has the same effect in our waking experience. 
 A poor man opening his letters one morning learns 
 
 171
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 that a relative in Australia, whose existence he has 
 forgotten, has left him heir to half a million. For a 
 long time afterwards he will declare, quite truly, that 
 "it all seems like a dream!" The sudden death of 
 one whose life was interfused with the current of our 
 own affects us in a similar manner. The wife whose 
 husband has been killed in an accident or fallen down 
 dead in a fit of heart failure will seem to herself to 
 be in a world of unrealities, and will tell you, as 
 before, "she is in a dream." Even when death is 
 not physically sudden, the interruption of sequence 
 in the moral world is so violent, especially when the 
 broken relationship is a vital one, that it often leaves 
 the survivor in a dreamlike atmosphere for many 
 days. 
 
 This was the atmosphere which Mr. Hooker was 
 breathing, and breathing deep, in the days that fol- 
 lowed the death of his wife. As he gave his evidence 
 at the inquest, which he did without betraying the 
 least emotion, so that people wondered at his indif- 
 ference; as he interviewed the undertaker and the 
 clergyman, and showed to the latter the pathetic 
 scrap of paper on which the suicide had written her 
 wishes; as he viewed for the last time the dead body 
 of the woman who had been for long years the centre 
 of his beautiful family life; as he sat alone in his 
 library pondering the train of events which had cul- 
 minated in this manner — his feeling was not only 
 that the events themselves, but that the whole scheme 
 of things to which they belonged, was phantasmal, 
 and that he himself would presently awake to find it 
 so. It was all catastrophic, unexpected, irrational; a 
 world of violent and illogical changes, where the rea- 
 
 172
 
 AND DISCOVERS THE UNREAL 
 
 sons of things, if they had any, only disclosed them- 
 selves after the event, and where in consequence it 
 was impossible to prepare oneself for what was com- 
 ing next. Had some infallible messenger of truth 
 appeared upon the scene and assured Mr. Hooker 
 there and then that the war was a dream j that its 
 strange consequences to himself had never taken 
 place j that his wealth and his bewilderment, his 
 sorrows and his philosophy were fictions; that the 
 railway accident was a nightmare; that Rumbelow 
 was the ghost of his fancy; and he himself the in- 
 habitant of another sphere of which all these 
 things were the distorted shadows — Mr. Hooker 
 would have found in the words of that mes- 
 senger a mere echo of his own mind, not, perhaps, 
 of its articulated thought, but most assuredly of 
 its tone. 
 
 In the midst of these dreamlike inconsistencies and 
 dim suspicions there was, however, one point which 
 obstinately asserted itself as having solid value and 
 harbouring no illusion. Whenever Mr. Hooker's 
 mind turned back to his deed of kindness towards the 
 nurse he seemed to get an anchorage in the firm 
 ground of reality; there was nothing dreamlike about 
 that. His thoughts in these days often turned in 
 that direction, not for any pleasure he might have in 
 contemplating his own benevolence, but because he 
 found there a resting place for his mind, as though 
 it were the one bit of genuine substance in the sea of 
 fluctuating shadows by which he was surrounded. 
 His only regret about the matter lay in the feeling 
 that the deed was too small , that it needed enlarging; 
 and this feeling finally took shape in a resolution to 
 
 173
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 increase the scale on which he had originally intended 
 to endow the nurse. 
 
 On the day preceding his wife's funeral, to which 
 he seemed quite indifferent, he spent a long time with 
 his lawyer arranging the details of this matter, his 
 mind keenly interested and alert. Mr. Polycarp, 
 who had approved of the deed in the form Mr. 
 Hooker had first presented it, was amazed on learn- 
 ing in full what his client intended to do, using every 
 argument he could think of to bring him to reason, 
 and plainly telling him the mildest construction to be 
 placed on his action was that he was out of his mind. 
 But he could make no impression at all on the mil- 
 lionaire's resolution. He gave the nurse £30,000. 
 
 Mr. Polycarp went away from the interview with 
 the gloomiest forebodings. "This man," he said to 
 himself, "will fall under the influence of women and 
 will end by perpetrating some gigantic folly." 
 
 Nor would his fears have been diminished had he 
 been able to read Mr. Hooker's mind. He felt com- 
 plete satisfaction in what he had done. He half 
 fancied he could hear a voice crying, "Do it again. 
 Hooker; do it again!" "I wish I had made it 
 £50,000," he said aloud, as he paced his library on 
 the day of the funeral. "But, thank Heaven, there 
 are others. I must find them out — these noble 
 women. There is Miss Wolfstone. She shall be the 
 next;" and his face beamed with joy. 
 
 At that moment the undertaker entered the room 
 and informed Mr. Hooker that his wife's coffin had 
 been placed in the hearse and that the funeral was 
 ready to start. 
 
 Mrs. Hooker had been the only child of a clerk 
 
 174
 
 AND DISCOVERS THE UNREAL 
 
 in the original clocli factory. Her mother had died 
 when she was three years old, under circumstances 
 not dissimilar to those which had attended her own 
 death, a fact which had been concealed, and only dis- 
 covered when the experts who were treating Mrs. 
 Hooker began to make inquiries. Till the time of 
 her marriage she had kept her father's house, a girl 
 of fine character and a devoted daughter. The direc- 
 tions she had scrawled on the scrap of paper were 
 that she was to be buried in her father's grave, and 
 she had also named the clergyman who was to con- 
 duct the service. 
 
 Besides Mr. Hooker, the doctor and some of the 
 servants there were only three mourners at the 
 funeral — two women in dingy black whom Mr. 
 Hooker had never seen before, and a little boy with 
 a bad cold. 
 
 Mechanically following the undertaker, like a man 
 walking in his sleep, the bereaved husband took his 
 seat in the car beside the doctor, the hearse imme- 
 diately preceding. The doctor was instantly struck 
 by his absent-mindedness. He made no allusion to 
 his wife, showed no signs of grief, and seemed to 
 attach not the least importance to what was going 
 forward. Twice the doctor tried to engage his atten- 
 tion by some commonplace remark. "It was unfor- 
 tunate the weather was so bad." No reply. "After 
 all, they ought to be glad that Mrs. Hooker's life 
 had not been prolonged?" Whereupon Mr. Hooker 
 turned upon him sharply: "Don't talk to me about 
 that," he said} "k bores me." After which the doc- 
 tor held his peace, while Mr. Hooker, with a look 
 of intense preoccupation on his face, seemed to be 
 
 175
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 oblivious of the other's existence. He was construct- 
 ing plans in the real world he had just discovered. 
 What could he do for Miss Wolf stone? How was 
 he to set about the task of creating for her some 
 sphere of action where she would find full scope for 
 her great powers of mind and character? Principles 
 were beginning to count for less in the mind of the 
 millionaire, and persons for more — a dangerous point 
 of transition. 
 
 Arrived at the cemetery gates the official in charge 
 of the place put a telegram into his hand. He was 
 about to thrust it in his pocket when the doctor per- 
 suaded him to open it. The telegram came from the 
 clergyman who was to conduct the funeral. 'He had 
 been taken suddenly ill, but the cemetery chaplain 
 was on the spot and would take his place.' Hooker 
 merely remarked, "What does it matter? The thing 
 has no meaning, anyhow. Go on." 
 
 Presently the chaplain, without his robes, appeared 
 on the scene. The man had evidently been drink- 
 ing — we will suppose for charity's sake that he had 
 not expected to be on duty that afternoon — and at 
 once began to bluster about the sacrilege of burying 
 a suicide. For some time an altercation went on 
 between him and the superintendent of the cemetery, 
 which ended in the chaplain assuming his robes and 
 leading the way to the mortuary chapel. As to what 
 went on inside, the less said the better. 
 
 The abomination over, the mourners wound their 
 way to the grave, the swaying chaplain at their head. 
 It was raining heavily, and they had a long way to go, 
 to a part of the cemetery now almost disused. At 
 last the little party, under dripping umbrellas, ar- 
 
 176
 
 AND DISCOVERS THE UNREAL 
 
 rived at a spot where a rectangular pit had been dug 
 among the crowded tombstones. The chaplain was 
 already half through the committal service, which 
 he was gabbling in the falsetto voice of official piety, 
 occasionally losing his place and lapsing into incoher- 
 ence. He was standing at the head of the grave, 
 steadying himself against a tombstone, on the top 
 of which there was an angel blowing a trumpet. The 
 undertakers' men now raised the coffin, and were 
 about to lower it, when one of them slipped on the 
 wet clay, the men at the other end lurched forward, 
 and the head of the coffin fell heavily on the chap- 
 lain's foot. "Damn and blast you," he roared out, 
 "what are you doing?" Whereupon one of the 
 women in black, who had been restrained with diffi- 
 culty from making a scene in the mortuary chapel, 
 threw down her dripping umbrella, stepped over the 
 open grave and struck the drunken chaplain a violent 
 blow in the face. Let a veil be drawn over the rest. 
 
 Had Mr. Hooker's senses, and their attendant sen- 
 sibilities, which were finer than most men's, been in 
 full commission the shock of this hideous thing 
 would have been overwhelming. But, mercifully, 
 he was still in a dream, or at least but half awake. 
 As they walked away he linked his arm in the doctor's 
 and for the first time his tongue was unloosed. 
 
 "We are arrived at last! " he said. 
 
 "Arrived at what?" asked the doctor. 
 
 "At the unreal end of things. At the vanishing 
 point of all significance. At the point where every 
 bit of sense and reality has been strained out and 
 nothing but nonsense and illusion remains. That 
 scene we have just witnessed represents it. Some 
 
 177
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 people would say that you touch reality when you 
 come to these brutal elements. You don't. You 
 touch nonsense and nothingness." 
 
 "It gave me a pretty violent shock," said the doc- 
 tor. "I can't help thinking there was something in 
 it." 
 
 "Something, yes. But how much? Just as little 
 as there possibly can be. If not absolute nothing, 
 then just as near to nothing as you can get." 
 
 He paused for a space and then went on: 
 
 "You may know that for many years I have been 
 a student of philosophy, combining the study of it 
 with a business life and with ethical propaganda — a 
 queer combination, as it now appears to me. Till 
 lately I was President of the Society for Ethical 
 Culture, the members of which, with one notable 
 exception, thought I was beside myself. That is 
 now a closed chapter, though I may tell you that 
 had it not been for the man who saved my life in 
 the accident, and then for the care of the good nurse 
 who has just left me, the Ethical Society would have 
 inherited the whole of my fortune. I don't care who 
 knows it and am quite indifferent to what people may 
 say. Well, most of the philosophers I have studied 
 embark on what they call the *quest for reality.' The 
 Pathway to Reality is the title of a famous book. 
 They should do the exact opposite — start from the 
 other end. Reality is given in the fact that they are 
 interested in finding it. Starting from that they 
 should make it their business to discover the Unreal, 
 to expose it for what it is, or rather for what it isn't. 
 They would find the Unreal in the general life of 
 the civilization that is going on around them, in the 
 
 178
 
 AND DISCOVERS THE UNREAL 
 
 sickness and miseries of an acquisitive society, in the 
 murk and sordidness of things, in Smokeover Ceme- 
 tery, and in all that it stands for — though I imagine 
 that some of them would have to be crucified and rise 
 again the third day before the truth began to dawn 
 upon their minds. The whole question needs to be 
 turned round and set up on its other end. It came to 
 me in this way during my illness, with something of 
 the force of a revelation." 
 
 *'I don't follow your meaning," said the doctor. 
 
 "Of course not. To follow my meaning you 
 would have to follow my experience during the last 
 few days} and your bitterest enemy would not wish 
 you that. Step by step it has brought me down to 
 the point where we are now arrived — the unreal end 
 of things. Between that and the real end there is an 
 immense interval. In less than a fortnight I have 
 traversed every step of the way — to find myself 
 herel This cemetery, the gloom of it, the hideous 
 tombstones, the rotting flowers, the funeral service, 
 the chaplain, drunk or sober, represent the world 
 with the values gone out of it. There's next to 
 nothing in the whole place! As a specimen of reality 
 it is beneath contempt — a province in the Void, a bit 
 of the universe that doesn't matter. Death has 
 dominion over it all, funeral service included. 
 Ghosts, doctor, ghosts! As to what we have just 
 witnessed, take it as an episode in a nightmare, 
 nothing more. The thing is too bad to be true." 
 
 "I am afraid," said the doctor, "that what you are 
 saying is too good to be true." 
 
 For some time they had been in the car, returning 
 to the house, Hooker apparently in high spirits and 
 
 179
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 the doctor both amazed and alarmed. Hooker went 
 on with his parable. 
 
 "I have something else to say which you as a medi- 
 cal man ought to know. There are hidden powers 
 in human life which when once they are liberated 
 work astonishing transformations. But the process 
 of liberating them is terrible to the last degree, and 
 may easily kill the strongest man. Indeed, it may be 
 that death is the natural mode by which they are 
 liberated in all men. It seemed so to me when I was 
 on the point of dying. I was conscious of the begin- 
 ning of an immense enlargement. But beware, doc- 
 tor, how you tamper with those powers. They are 
 high explosives." 
 
 "I have heard of such things," said the doctor. 
 **But they wither on contact with the brutal facts of 
 life." 
 
 "You are mistaken," said Hooker. "It Is the 
 brutal facts of life that wither on contact with them. 
 They linger on and hold their ground against all 
 comers. They are the only key we have to the mean- 
 ing of this otherwise abominable world. To-day has 
 been the witness of it. From first to last I have stood 
 above it all, yes, superior to it, completely master of 
 it. At this moment I feel myself immeasurably 
 strong. Forces have been helping me: I know not 
 what they are, or who they are, and am not anxious 
 to know. Perhaps they are great souls still inhabit- 
 ing the flesh — one of them has been in my thoughts 
 for many hours. Perhaps they are the spirits of the 
 departed. Perhaps they are the ultimates of the uni- 
 verse. But they are realy doctor, they are realy and 
 what else matters?" 
 
 180
 
 AND DISCOVERS THE UNREAL 
 
 The doctor listened to all this without comprehen- 
 sion, but with a grave doubt lurking in the back- 
 ground of his mind. He was reflecting that Hooker 
 on returning home would be alone for the rest of the 
 day, both the nurses having departed j and he saw 
 danger ahead. He resolved that he would spend 
 the night in the house. Hooker had no difliculty in 
 divining his thought. His perceptions just then were 
 abnormally acute. 
 
 "Doctor," he said, "your manner betrays you. 
 You are alarmed — I see it in your face. I know what 
 you are afraid of, and I don't wonder. If anyone 
 six months ago had spoken to me as I have just 
 spoken to you I should have drawn exactly the in- 
 ference that is troubling you. Yesterday my lawyer 
 informed me that I was out of my mind, and now 
 you are thinking the same thing — which is unfor- 
 tunate for me at a moment when important business 
 has to be transacted. But spend the night in the 
 house, and tell me frankly to-morrow whether or no 
 you can certify me as sane. I have a reason for 
 asking it." 
 
 181
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 And Begins to Make Use of His Discovery 
 
 MR. HOOKER'S accession to vast fortune had 
 been so rapid that sufficient time had not yet 
 elapsed to gather round him that permanent retinue 
 of friends, admirers and hangers-on whose mission it 
 is to attend the sorrows, feast at the tables and occupy 
 the bedrooms of the rich. Hence it was that the doc- 
 tor, seated next morning at his solitary breakfast in 
 the great dining-room, had the impression of being 
 in a deserted house. Without was the murk of a 
 winter's dayj a dirty mist hung in the air; a sullen 
 rain was falling; the smoke-stained laurels growing 
 by the window dripped and shivered under the down- 
 pour. Within was silence and a deeper gloom. The 
 butler, dressed in a new suit of black, who had intro- 
 duced him to his victuals and then left him to help 
 himself, might have been the only living inmate of 
 the house; and even he seemed only half alive. 
 
 Twice, in answer to questions as to Mr. Hooker's 
 whereabouts — Was he in his bedroom? Was he in 
 the library? — the butler had replied with a whis- 
 pered "No, sir." These were the only words he 
 spoke, uttered in a tone of immense responsibility, 
 and after a pause for deliberation, as though the neg- 
 ative were the final secret of the universe, revealed 
 to the servants' hall by the funeral of yesterday, 
 
 182
 
 AND USES HIS DISCOVERY 
 
 and embodied in his new suit of black. The whole 
 house seemed to echo the whisper j it was the voice 
 of the place J the voice of the Everlasting No, Sirj 
 the walls passed it on to the furniture, the weather 
 took it up outside, and the trees, slowly shaking their 
 heads under the weight of the rain, confirmed it. 
 As the doctor looked round the dining-room, with its 
 sumptuous appointments and unnecessary array of 
 chairs, a presentiment came over him that he, too, had 
 arrived at the unreal end of things. He ate his 
 breakfast without appetite. His boiled egg was a 
 negative thing — tasteless, phantasmal and difficult 
 to swallow. 
 
 His breakfast over, the doctor took a turn through 
 the rooms, hoping to encounter Mr. Hooker here or 
 there. All was chill, melancholy, sepulchral. At 
 certain points he detected an odour of oak varnish, 
 as though a new-made coffin was, or had recently 
 been, in the house. No one was about 5 the very 
 servants seemed to be hiding themselves. The doc- 
 tor listened for indications; he could hear nothing 
 but the drip and rustle of the rain. The thick- 
 carpeted floors were a mockery, for the only foot- 
 steps in the place, if any, were the footsteps of 
 Q:hosts. 
 
 At length he found the millionaire standing alone 
 by a great window in the drawing-room, looking out 
 upon the rain, his hands behind his back. At one 
 end of the room were the arum lilies and azaleas 
 which yesterday had formed a screen for the bier of 
 the dead woman. In neither of the two grates, 
 which were of burnished steel, after the mid-Vic- 
 torian fashion, was there any fire. The room was 
 
 183
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 cold and the odour of coffin furniture was unmis- 
 takable. 
 
 That Mr. Hooker was suffering under a severe 
 reaction was obvious to the doctor at a glance. All 
 traces of yesterday's exaltation had vanished. The 
 eyes were dull and tired, the face pale and drawn, 
 the powerful shoulders tilted forward, and the great 
 domed head seemed to have shrunken. But the 
 mouth was firm and the square-set obstinacy of the 
 Hooker breed sat upon every feature. As he turned 
 to greet the doctor he drew himself erect. He 
 was a big man and seemed all the bigger in his 
 loneliness. 
 
 "My dear sir," said the doctor in a sufficiently 
 formidable tone of authority, "you need rest and 
 change. Both are imperative. A voyage round the 
 world, for example, or a yachting cruise in the Medi- 
 terranean. I advise the Mediterranean, with a medi- 
 cal man in attendance. You must quit Smokeover 
 without delay. Sea air and sunshine will make 
 another man of you." 
 
 Mr. Hooker made a gesture of impatience. 
 
 "No, sir!" he said, with the emphasis of a man not 
 to be trifled withj "no, sir! Such things are not 
 worth discussing. They are irrelevancies — the con- 
 ventional disguises of medical ignorance — shallow 
 stratagems for getting patients out of the way and 
 escaping further responsibility. Tell these things to 
 the feeble-minded." 
 
 Had this rebuff been administered by a poorer 
 patient there is no telling what the doctor would have 
 replied. He was certainly nettled, but, setting the 
 answer down to the morbid irritability consequent 
 
 184
 
 AND USES HIS DISCOVERY 
 
 upon a sleepless night, he contented himself with a 
 mild rebuke. 
 
 "I see you have no high opinion of medical science. 
 Is not that a little ungrateful in the circumstances?" 
 
 "You mean," said Mr. Hooker, "that medical 
 science has just saved my life. But, before that, it 
 was saved by Mr. Rumbelowj and before that his 
 was saved by Miss Wolfstone. The hospital ship 
 on which he was returning after his wound was tor- 
 pedoed, and Miss Wolfstone, who was the nurse in 
 charge, rescued him at great peril to herself. But of 
 course you know the story." 
 
 "Everyone knows it," said the doctor. "At this 
 moment Miss Wolfstone is the talk of Smokeover." 
 
 Mr. Hooker turned a searching glance on his com- 
 panion's face. "What are they saying?" he asked 
 sharply. 
 
 "They are talking about her connection with Rum- 
 below. The circumstances are extraordinary, and 
 speculation is active." 
 
 "Is her name being coupled with mine, as well as 
 with Rumbelow's?" asked Mr. Hooker. 
 
 "Since you ask — yes." 
 
 A look of grim determination came into the face 
 of Mr. Hooker, and, almost as though he was talking 
 to himself, he said: 
 
 "In future they will couple it still more closely 
 than they are doing now. But go on, doctor. Is this 
 talk — are these rumours — discreditable to the per- 
 sons in question?" 
 
 "Gossip is seldom otherwise," said the doctor, who 
 was growing uncomfortable under the directness of 
 Mr. Hooker's interrogation. He was casting about 
 
 185
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 for a change of subject, but the other gave him no 
 time. 
 
 "At what point do I, personally, stand affected? 
 What inferences are being drawn? Are people say- 
 ing that I am out of my mind?" 
 
 The doctor had been dreading this. But there 
 was no going back now. 
 
 "Well, sir," he said, "the fact cannot be disguised 
 that you are causing a good deal of perplexity to 
 many of your friends. In particular, your action in 
 regard to the nurse, which has become public prop- 
 erty, lends colour to " 
 
 He hesitated for the next phrase. But Mr. 
 Hooker did not wait for it. 
 
 "What has that to do with Miss Wolfstone?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Only this — people are inclined to think that when 
 a man has done one anomalous thing he will prob- 
 ably do another." 
 
 "They show extraordinary prescience," said Mr. 
 Hooker, "and I shall not disappoint them. But these 
 unfavourable constructions that you speak of — are 
 they countenanced by the medical profession? What 
 do they think of what I have done?" 
 
 "They condemn it." 
 
 "On what grounds?" 
 
 "As indefensible from every point of view." 
 
 "Name one of them." 
 
 Here the doctor saw an opportunity to relieve him- 
 self of something he had on his mind and at the same 
 time to bring the conversation to a safe distance from 
 the point of danger at which it now stood. 
 
 "I have heard your munificence to the nurse de- 
 
 186
 
 AND USES HIS DISCOVERY 
 
 scribed as a false emphasis," he said. "We doctors 
 naturally think of alternatives. You are probably 
 aware, for example, that the medical side of our 
 local university is sorely in need of funds. Had you 
 given an equal sum to that object, you would not 
 only have conferred a real benefit on the community, 
 but expressed the gratitude you owe to medical 
 science for your recovery. For, after all, Mr. 
 Hooker, it was not the nurse who saved your life." 
 
 "You have entirely mistaken my motives," said 
 the millionaire. "Nothing was further from my in- 
 tention than to express gratitude for my recovery j 
 nor to confer benefits on the community. My rea- 
 sons are my own, and to me absolutely conclusive. 
 As between you and me, as between me and any doc- 
 tor in Smokeover, they are probably incommunicable. 
 But to carry them into effect, as I am fully resolved 
 to do, it is essential that my soundness of mind should 
 be attested. I see an obstacle in my way and am 
 under no illusions as to its gravity. You understand 
 that I am about to make my Will. Are you prepared 
 to certify that I am competent to do so?" 
 
 "Mr. Hooker," said the doctor, "you have chal- 
 lenged plain speech, and I shall use it in answering 
 your question. At this moment I doubt if any medi- 
 cal man of standing in Smokeover would do what you 
 require. The matter is complicated, professional 
 feeling runs high, and the unfavourable impression 
 of which I spoke has gone deep." 
 
 "But your own opinion is what?" asked Mr. 
 Hooker. 
 
 "I decline to give it. The matter is one for an 
 independent specialist. You place me in a difficult 
 
 187
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 position, sir, and under the circumstances the only 
 possible answer is what I have just given. So long 
 as this strange action of yours stands unrevoked, with 
 the possibility of others of a like nature to follow, 
 you will not get a favourable verdict in Smokeover. 
 May I implore you, if there is yet time, to revoke 
 it, and to reconsider the whole course of action to 
 which, as you say, it is leading up." 
 
 "Never!" cried Mr. Hooker. "My resolution is 
 irrevocably taken. The reasons you bring against 
 it are no doubt irrefragable when taken by them- 
 selves — I know them by heart. But they are not to 
 be taken by themselves. They are part of a larger 
 system of ideas and of customary habits of thought 
 which, in its totality, is pernicious and false. In 
 human affairs, doctor, whatever is irrefragable is 
 likely to be untrue — and let the fact that I have said 
 so be remembered when the question of my sanity 
 is finally determined. For the rest, I shall take the 
 choice of a specialist into my own hands. To-night 
 I am expecting my lawyer, and I shall be glad if you 
 will meet him here and tell him all you know. And 
 the specialist will, if possible, arrive to-morrow." 
 
 The doctor was at the end of his resources. All 
 through the conversation he had felt himself help- 
 less against the impregnable rock before him. As a 
 last effort he returned to his original method of 
 attack. 
 
 "All I have heard from you to-day, Mr. Hooker," 
 he said, "confirms what I said at the first. In 
 Heaven's name, take yourself in hand. Circum- 
 stances have thrown you back on yourself. Leave 
 Smokeover at once. Get out of this atmosphere. 
 
 188
 
 AND USES HIS DISCOVERY 
 
 There is no other means to break up your self- 
 centredness. As to the nurse " 
 
 "Leave her aside," said Mr. Hooker, in tones that 
 intimated the end of the interview, "and leave me to 
 break up my self-centredness in my own way." 
 
 The doctor left the house with mixed feelings, 
 not pleasant on the whole. On the one hand he was 
 glad to have escaped a breach with his wealthiest 
 patient, which at one moment had seemed imminent. 
 But he resented the high-handedness with which Mr. 
 Hooker had conducted the interview. He had the 
 uncomfortable and even humiliating sense of being 
 in the grip of a will far stronger than his own, and 
 against which he could make no professional head- 
 way. But remembering that Mr. Hooker was a 
 multimillionaire, he frankly forgave him all. Was 
 he mad? If so, who was sane? The doctor looked 
 back at the gloomy mansion, and the genius of the 
 place seemed to answer "Nobody." 
 
 Within an hour of these occurrences new and yet 
 more sinister rumours had begun to circulate in 
 Smokeover. They started in the main street, spread 
 rapidly through the business quarter, penetrated the 
 Clubs, and were telephoned thence to the suburbs. 
 The rumours were that Mr. Hooker's car had been 
 seen to draw up before the portals of Rumbelow, 
 Stallybrass & Corker, and that a massive gentleman 
 in a fur coat, who was unquestionably Mr. Hooker 
 himself, ex-president of the Society of Ethical Cul- 
 ture, and sole surviving representative of a venerated 
 family of Quakers, had passed into the interior of 
 that flagitious establishment — drawn thither by what 
 
 189
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 attraction who can say? Curiosity was a-tiptoe and 
 cynicism was in its glory. Who now could doubt 
 that Mr. Hooker was mad? Only those who be- 
 lieved him wicked — of whom by this time there were 
 many. 
 
 Ai this point the Author again found himself in 
 difficulties with the competing Voices at the Bridge- 
 head. There were at least three of them uttering 
 discordant versions of what happened next. The 
 Author waited for the competition to subside y and in 
 this he had the help of a passing thunderstorm, which 
 drowned the Voices and compelled him to seek shelter 
 under one of the arches of the Bridge. Here he 
 passed the time in watching the River of For get ful- 
 ness, whose swift and gloomy waters, swirling in m'a- 
 jestic eddies, fascinated his gaze and even tempted 
 him, more than once, to plunge in and m^ake an end. 
 When he returned to his post the Voices seemed to 
 have chosen their spokesman. One only was audible. 
 In note and accent it was different from that which 
 had spoken before. The mode of utterance was more 
 rapid, and a further peculiarity was that now and then 
 it would suddenly stop short, as though to reflect on 
 the matter in hand, sometimes indulging in a quiet 
 laugh over what it had just narrated — tnuch to the 
 annoyance of the Author, whose fingers were numb 
 with the cold of the night, and growing tired with 
 their long exercise. He was impatient, moreover, 
 for a definite answer to the question — what did NLr. 
 Hooker do with his money? But the Voice went on: 
 
 Mr. Hooker passes through the great swing-door 
 of the Office, and perceiving in front of him a tail 
 
 190
 
 AND USES HIS DISCOVERY 
 
 official in uniform presents his card, with the inquiry, 
 "Is Mr. Rumbelow within?" 
 
 Mr. Rumbelow is not within, but the Heads of 
 Departments are all at their posts, and Mr. Hooker 
 is assured that the mention of his name will instantly 
 place any one of them at his service. 
 
 Mr. Hooker pauses to reflect. As yet his acquaint- 
 ance with the organization of the Firm, and with the 
 personnel of the staff, is imperfect, but he knows 
 enough to make an intelligent suggestion. 
 
 "I believe," he says, "that one of the Heads is a 
 famous psychologist?" 
 
 "You mean Mr. Hotblack, sir," replies the offi- 
 cial, "the Head of the Psychological Department. 
 Certainly, sir. Your card shall be sent in to him at 
 once." 
 
 Five minutes later Mr. Hooker, comfortably 
 seated in an arm-chair and by the side of a cheerful 
 fire, is confronting Mr. Hotblack, in the private 
 office of that highly strung but ingenious gentleman, 
 whose keen and radiant eyes are examining the mil- 
 lionaire as though they would anticipate his secret 
 thoughts. Mr. Hooker's face presents the contrast 
 of a benignant placidity, and meets the penetrating 
 gaze of the psychologist with an expression which 
 seems to say, "All the psychology in the world will 
 not divert me one hair's-breadth from my purpose." 
 
 "I am come in search of an item of information 
 which I believe you are in a position to give me," 
 says Mr. Hooker. 
 
 "The resources of the Firm are at your command, 
 sir," replies Mr. Hotblack, "and I can assure you 
 that in the matter of information they are immense. 
 
 191
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 But before we proceed to business may I say that 
 it gives me peculiar pleasure to meet you? Your 
 name, Mr. Hooker, is honoured in this Office. The 
 Chief himself has mentioned it in terms of venera- 
 tion. He rejoices that he was permitted to be an 
 instrument in preserving your life. The Chief, sir, 
 attaches great importance to such things." 
 
 To this Mr. Hooker makes no reply, and Mr. 
 Hotblack, mentally noting his silence, goes on : 
 
 "May I be permitted to offer you the congratula- 
 tions of the Firm, though doubtless they would come 
 more fittingly from Mr. Rumbelow himself? We 
 have heard — who has not? — of your recent munifi- 
 cence to the nurse. From the point of view of the 
 Firm, sir, you have done a most significant deed — 
 ideal in aim, sportsmanlike in principle, and, I have 
 no doubt, thoroughly businesslike in method." 
 
 A shade of annoyance, as of a man who dislikes to 
 be praised, passes over the countenance of Mr. 
 Hooker. 
 
 "I do not understand you," he says. 
 
 "There are two types of morality," replies Mr. 
 Hotblack, "the legalistic and the sportsmanlike. The 
 legalistic begins with the highest principles, which 
 deteriorate in application and become progressively 
 impure the further they advance from their point 
 of origin — you may see a remarkable example of this 
 in the efforts that are now being made by purists 
 and physiologists to deal with the problem of sexual 
 relations, not to speak of the Ten Commandments 
 themselves. The sportsmanlike begins in the com- 
 mon soil of human nature, improves with each fresh 
 application, and finally establishes itself on the 
 
 192
 
 AND USES HIS DISCOVERY 
 
 ground of absolute validity. Your action in regard 
 to the nurse, sir, belongs to this type. It was a crea- 
 tive deed, and contains within it the promise of a 
 splendid progeny." 
 
 At these words Mr. Hooker's countenance 
 brightens, annoyance gives place to eagerness, and 
 he is about to follow up Mr. Hotblack's remarks 
 with a yet more pregnant observation of his own 
 when he suddenly recollects himself and says: 
 
 "The action of mine to which you refer is not un- 
 connected with the business which brings me here 
 to-day." 
 
 "Let us proceed to that at once," says Mr. Hot- 
 black. 
 
 "I have heard," says Mr. Hooker, "that the Firm 
 has frequent occasion to investigate the mental con- 
 dition of its clients, and that you employ experts 
 for the purpose." 
 
 "We employ many," returns Mr. Hotblack. "In- 
 deed they constitute the most important section of our 
 External Staff. In the cabinet behind you, Mr. 
 Hooker, there are at this moment thousands of tabu- 
 lated reports, in a dozen languages, on the mental 
 condition of our clients. All the most notable per- 
 sons, both in Europe and America, have been put 
 under investigation. They are investigated as indi- 
 viduals and as groups. And I may tell you, as a point 
 of psychological interest, that groups composed of 
 perfectly sane individuals are often condemned by 
 our experts as hopelessly insane in their corporate 
 mentality. The Reports, I assure you, make sad 
 reading. In one of those drawers, sir, there is a long 
 list of lunatic groups — it is the Black List of the 
 
 193
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 Firm. Indeed, sir, of all the problems for which I, 
 as chief psychologist, am responsible, this is by far 
 the most delicate and momentous. A matter on 
 which the Firm has enormous experience." 
 
 "Then perhaps," says Mr. Hooker, "you can fur- 
 nish me with the name of an expert, of a specialist, 
 whom I can summon immediately to decide in a diffi- 
 cult case." 
 
 Here the sharp eyes of Mr. Hotblack become 
 arrow-points of thought, and Mr. Hooker can almost 
 feel them darting through and through the cortex 
 of his brain. 
 
 "I conjecture," says the psychologist, speaking 
 with great rapidity, "that the case to be decided upon 
 is your ownj that your munificence to the nurse has 
 caused doubts of your sanity among the ignorant; 
 that, nevertheless, you are determined to follow it 
 up with other deeds conceived in the same sportsman- 
 like spirit j and that the way is blocked for the mo- 
 ment by the menace of a legal difficulty." 
 
 "So far you are right." 
 
 "Then I have no hesitation in recommending you 
 to place yourself in the hands of Sir William Tim- 
 bertree." 
 
 "I have heard of him." 
 
 "A telephone message from the Firm will bring 
 him down from London by the first possible train. 
 His fee is four hundred guineas for patients intro- 
 duced by the Firm, five hundred for others." 
 
 "I shall summon him without introduction," says 
 Mr. Hooker, "if you can assure me of his qualifica- 
 tions." 
 
 "His record attests them," says Mr. Hotblack. 
 
 194-
 
 AND USES HIS DISCOVERY 
 
 "You may remember, sir, that when the war broke 
 out, the Chief laid before the Cabinet a plan which 
 would infallibly have ended it in five weeks. The 
 Cabinet dismissed it as the scheme of a madman. 
 Whereupon Sir William, at the risk of his great 
 reputation, publicly took up cudgels for the Chief, 
 and declared from his seat in the House of Com- 
 mons that the collective mind of the Cabinet, judged 
 by the standard of Mr. Rumbelow's intellectual 
 powers, was on a level of imbecility j adding that on 
 strictly scientific grounds he would refuse to certify 
 the collective sanity of any Government in the 
 world." 
 
 "It is enough," says Mr. Hooker. 
 
 "But I must warn you," continues Mr. Hotblack, 
 "that Sir William's personal characteristics may 
 offend you. In private life he is an avowed atheist, 
 a reputed loose-liver, a user of foul language and 
 intolerably vulgar in his manners. Professionally 
 he is a mystic, a Puritan, and fanatically devoted to 
 the interests of his patients. He never begins an 
 operation on the brain or the spinal cord without 
 invoking the Divine blessing on the knife and com- 
 pelling his assistants to join him in prayer." 
 
 "Give me his address," says Mr. Hooker. 
 
 As the millionaire places the slip of paper in his 
 pocketbook and rises to leave, Mr. Hotblack takes 
 out his watch. 
 
 "I perceive it is one o'clock," he says. "May 
 I suggest, sir, that we lunch together at the 
 Club?" 
 
 To which Mr. Hooker assents and, having sent 
 off a telegram in his own name to Sir William Tim- 
 
 195
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 bertree, presently walks out of the office in company 
 with Mr. Hotblack. 
 
 And now the tongues of rumour are again let 
 loose. First they report that Mr. Hooker and Mr. 
 Hotblack are lunching together in the Club at a 
 table for twoj next, that they have retired to a quiet 
 corner in the smoking-room and are closely engaged 
 in conversation. What, in Heaven's name, are they 
 saying? The sequel will show. 
 
 196
 
 CHAPTER NINE 
 Mr. Hotblack Expounds the Beauty of Business 
 
 NO legislation." Mr. Hotblack was saying, "no 
 social system that the wit of man can devise, 
 will prove effective in preventing the accumulation of 
 wealth by individuals. Whatever measures society 
 may invent for checking the profiteer can always be 
 evaded by minds endowed with certain faculties, and 
 not only evaded, sir, but captured and made use of 
 for defeating the very purpose they are intended to 
 serve. A daring and creative mind, like Mr. Rum- 
 below's for example, is always more than a match for 
 any system of repression that may be directed against 
 it. The Chief knows thisj he has proved it over and 
 over again. If a set contest were to take place be- 
 tween *the will of society' — though I doubt if such 
 a thing exists — between *the will of society' and the 
 will of Mr. Rumbelow, I should not hesitate, as a 
 psychologist, to lay the odds at 1 to 1 on the Chief. 
 It is a fortunate thing for the world, sir, that the 
 Head of the Firm is a friend of manj were it other- 
 wise one might well tremble for the future of the 
 human race." 
 
 "One trembles in any event," said Mr. Hooker. 
 
 "Rightly so," answered Mr. Hotblack. "The 
 future of mankind is by no means assured, and I may 
 tell you, in confidence, that the Firm has periods of 
 
 197
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 pessimism, when even the Chief himself wears a look 
 of trouble. This morning, for example, we have re- 
 ceived a Report from the Seven Mighty Men, en- 
 dorsed by the Head Mathematician, which indicates 
 that the odds, at the moment, are in favour of 
 impending catastrophe to civilization. But Mr. Rum- 
 below, sir, has not quailed. Immediately after read- 
 ing the Report he issued a general instruction to the 
 Heads of Departments informing them that the en- 
 tire resources of the Firm were to be staked, with the 
 odds against us, on averting the threatened calamity. 
 How great the calamity is you may imagine when 
 I tell you that it involves the destruction of Mr. 
 Rumbelow himself and of all that he stands for. 
 He is under no illusion in these matters. He is fully 
 prepared for the fate which has been meted out to 
 all the greatest benefactors of mankind. Of course 
 he is aware that by throwing the resources of the 
 ■Firm into the lighter scale the conditions will be 
 altered J but even so, the odds remain heavily against 
 us." 
 
 "The spirit of all this," said Mr. Hooker, speak- 
 ing with some emotion, "the spirit of all this moves 
 me deeply. I have seen with my own eyes the self- 
 devotion of which Mr. Rumbelow is capable when 
 the odds are against himj indeed I owe my life to it. 
 If only I knew more of the operations the Firm is 
 engaged in, and were convinced that their nature 
 was such that I could support them, I would throw 
 in my lot with Mr. Rumbelow to-morrow." 
 
 "It would be a splendid consummation to a noble 
 life," cried Mr. Hotblack, raising his voice and 
 dropping his cigar in his excitement. "But I must 
 
 198
 
 MR. HOTBLACK EXPOUNDS 
 
 warn you, Mr. Hooker, that you would be facing the 
 odds of financial ruin. They are two to one against 
 us." 
 
 "If they were twenty thousand to one I would face 
 them," answered Mr. Hooker with equal enthusiasm, 
 "provided I stood upon honourable ground." 
 
 "Which proves that you are a sportsman at heart," 
 replied Mr. Hotblack. 
 
 At this point of the conversation there was a notice- 
 able stir among the other gentlemen in the smoking- 
 room. They had already drawn their chairs as near 
 as they decently could to the corner where the mil- 
 lionaire and the psychologist were holding their 
 debate. At the words "twenty thousand" the news- 
 papers they were pretending to read were simultane- 
 ously lowered, and the smokers looked at one another, 
 as who would say, "Just what we expected." 
 
 Mr. Hotblack noticed the movement, and pushing 
 his chair into a position which brought him close to 
 Mr. Hooker's ear, said, "We must speak lower. 
 These men are listening. One of them has just gone 
 out, and, unless I am much mistaken his version of 
 what we have been saying is already on the telephone. 
 I shall indulge him a little further when he comes 
 back. But to the point, Mr. Hooker. Before ex- 
 plaining the operations of the Firm, may I ask a 
 question? Your action in summoning Sir William 
 Timbertree — the question of your soundness of 
 mind — does it turn on certain views you hold as to 
 the capacity of women to be entrusted with the dis- 
 position of wealth?" 
 
 "I have said as much already," answered Mr. 
 Hooker. 
 
 199
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 "Thank you. I wished to be clear on the point. 
 For it so happens — and it is important in connexion 
 with what I am about to tell you — that the views of 
 Mr. Rumbelow as to the functions of women in the 
 coming age are extremely precise. He holds that 
 their greatest achievements will be more in the 
 economic than in the political sphere. As earners, 
 or producers, of wealth they will always play a minor 
 part J but as spenders of it, as directors of the ends 
 and uses for which wealth is employed — the unsolved 
 problem of the industrial age — their power and in- 
 fluence will continually increase. Mr. Rumbelow is 
 backing this tendency to the uttermost. At this 
 moment he has in the Office a list of all the most 
 capable women in Smokeover, in the preparation of 
 which I have had the honour of assisting him. You 
 would be surprised to learn what a large number 
 remains, even after the most rigorous sifting out." 
 
 "On the contrary," replied Mr. Hooker, "I should 
 not be surprised in the least." 
 
 "Ha!" exclaimed Mr. Hotblack, and for a mo- 
 ment he looked out of the window, with the air of a 
 man who is putting this and that together. Then, 
 checking his meditations, he broke off to a general 
 observation. 
 
 "In the scale of moral values, Mr. Hooker, as 
 well as in that of efficiency, women have a greater 
 range than men, both upward and downward. The 
 types are more varied and the degrees more numer- 
 ous. A bad woman is far worse than a bad man 5 at 
 the common level she is still his inferior j but above 
 that she outstrips him and reaches a summit which no 
 man can attain, until at the highest she becomes the 
 
 200
 
 MR. HOTBLACK EXPOUNDS 
 
 master-work of the creative mind. A spiritual reli- 
 gion should worship a goddess, not a god." 
 
 "A spiritual religion should worship the spirit," 
 interrupted Mr. Hooker. 
 
 " 'Tis the same thing," replied Mr. Hotblack. 
 
 "I agree," said Mr. Hooker. "But we are wan- 
 dering from the point. Tell me — is the name of 
 Miss Wolfstone on Mr. Rumbelow's list of capable 
 women?" 
 
 "It stands next to My Lady's," said the psychol- 
 ogist. "Apart from the special reason Mr. Rum- 
 below has for honouring Miss Wolfstone — for, as 
 you know, she saved his life — he regards her as a 
 woman of exceptional power, and destined to leave 
 her mark on the world. Mr. Hooker, I am about 
 to declare to you one of the secrets of the Firm, which 
 I have good reason to believe will be safe in your 
 keeping. The Chief has determined to do for Miss 
 Wolfstone that which has never yet been done for 
 any woman." 
 
 "Perhaps I shall anticipate him," said the mil- 
 lionaire. 
 
 The psychologist turned upon his companion a 
 glance full of intelligence. When the conversation 
 was resumed the cigars of both men had become ap- 
 preciably shorter. It was Mr. Hotblack who broke 
 the silence. 
 
 "Assuming, sir, that you have settled the disposi- 
 tion of your fortune after your death, the problem 
 remains of dealing with it during the remainder of 
 your life. If I may venture a bold suggestion, I 
 would advise you, earnestly and solemnly, to consult 
 Mr. Rumbelow." 
 
 201
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 "I have thought of it," replied the millionaire. 
 "But you must understand, Mr. Hotblack, that in 
 this matter I intend to act upon my own initiative. I 
 shall adopt no man's ideas. I shall avoid all cus- 
 tomary modes of dealing with wealth, which, I am 
 persuaded, are based on a profound ignorance. Cus- 
 tom, as Carlyle says, makes dotards of us all, and in 
 this matter more than in any other." 
 
 "An act of will has no value unless it is self- 
 originated," said the psychologist 5 "in fact, is not an 
 act of will at all. Do I correctly interpret you?" 
 
 "You do." 
 
 "Then let me assure you that by consulting Mr. 
 Rumbelow you will not impair the independence of 
 your own decision. You will reinforce it. The more 
 so if My Lady's influence is added to his. Seek her 
 out, Mr. Hooker J seek her out, I implore you! 
 Whatever you undertake she will transform into 
 music, into beauty, into joy." 
 
 As he spoke these words a visible change passed 
 over the countenance of Mr. Hotblack. It was as 
 though a mask had fallen off. The features softened, 
 they shone with an inner light, and the penetrating 
 eyes seemed to be gazing at some object a long way 
 off. Then, to the astonishment of Mr. Hooker, the 
 psychologist leaned back in his chair and slowly re- 
 cited the following verses: 
 
 "O Lady! we receive but what we give, 
 And in our life alone does Nature live: 
 Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud! 
 And would we aught behold, of higher worth 
 Than that inanimate cold world allowed 
 
 202
 
 MR. HOTBLACK EXPOUNDS 
 
 To the poor loveless, ever-anxious crowd, 
 Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth 
 
 A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud 
 Enveloping the Earth — 
 
 And from the soul itself must there be sent 
 A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth, 
 
 Of all sweet sounds the life and element! 
 
 "O pure of heart! thou need'st not ask of me 
 What this strong music in the soul may be! 
 What, and wherein it doth exist, 
 This light, this glory, this fair luminous mist. 
 This beautiful and beauty-making power. 
 
 Joy, virtuous Lady! Joy that ne'er was given. 
 Save to the pure, and in their purest hour, 
 
 *'Life, and Life's effluence, cloud at once and shower, 
 Joy, Lady! is the spirit and the power 
 Which, wedding Nature, to us gives in dower 
 
 A new Earth and new Heaven, 
 Undreamt of by the sensual and the proud — 
 Joy is the sweet voice, Joy the luminous cloud — 
 We in ourselves rejoice! 
 And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight. 
 
 All melodies the echoes of that voice. 
 All colours a suffusion from that light." 
 
 "I congratulate you on the rendering," said Mr. 
 Hooker, "Your training as a man of business has left 
 you with a fine sense of poetic values." 
 
 "A business training," replied Mr. Hotblack, 
 "separates us from the poets only when it is incom- 
 plete. But when business has her perfect work, she 
 
 203
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 brings us back again to poetry and to the other arts. 
 In the same way, sir, the present age of commercial- 
 ism, in which the great singers have hung up their 
 harps, will lead on, when its issues are complete, to 
 a revival of poetry. The businesslike method, sir, 
 is a beautiful thing." 
 
 "You surprise me," said Mr. Hooker. "I have 
 heard it said that the relationship of business to the 
 fine arts is not affinity, but repulsion." 
 
 "It is a profound error," answered the psy- 
 chologist, "and could only originate in minds which 
 understand neither business nor art." 
 
 "You would not allow then," pursued Mr. 
 Hooker, "that the general ugliness of Smokeover, of 
 which we can see a glimpse out of that window, 
 accurately reflects the nature of business?" 
 
 "I will not allow it for a moment," replied the 
 other. "Smokeover, sir, is unquestionably an ugly 
 creation. But it is the ugliness of a caterpillar wait- 
 ing to be changed into a gorgeous butterfly. When 
 Mr. Rumbelow has completed his work, Smokeover 
 will emerge as glorious as Athens j not, mark you, by 
 abandoning business, but by becoming thoroughly 
 businesslike." 
 
 "Then is she not thoroughly businesslike at the 
 present moment?" 
 
 "Far from it, sir; far from it!" 
 
 Here Mr. Hotblack paused to choose his words. 
 His face wore an air of perplexity, as though he 
 found it difficult to make intelligible what he wanted 
 to say next. 
 
 "The truth is," he resumed, "that business, as 
 Smokeover carries it on, is under alien domination. 
 
 204
 
 MR. HOTBLACK EXPOUNDS 
 
 It dances attendance on the unsportsmanlike prin- 
 ciples, the mean aims, the unbusinesslike methods, 
 which characterize the general misgovernment o£ 
 the world. Our business life has never been free 
 to develop according to its own genius. It has been 
 suffered to develop only into such forms as were con- 
 venient to the blind and wicked deities which for 
 ages past have filled the earth with strife, bloodshed 
 and confusion. Smokeover, sir, is an unconscious 
 accessory to deeds of darkness that are perpetrated 
 beyond its ken. The ugliness of those deeds is re- 
 flected in the ugliness we see out of that window. 
 This sprawling city, with its foul congestions, the ill- 
 built streets, the squalid slums, the dismal cemetery, 
 the tawdry palaces, the hideous statues, the vitiated 
 atmosphere, the darkened skies, the dirt, the noise, 
 the shabbiness — what is it all but a faithful image of 
 the international muddle whose begotten offspring it 
 is? Now, sir, Mr. Rumbelow has determined that 
 the business of Smokeover shall be liberated from 
 those pernicious entanglements, set upon its own feet, 
 and placed under the control of enlightened business 
 men. When that has been accomplished the cater- 
 pillar will slough off its ugliness and emerge into 
 beauty." 
 
 It is probable that Mr. Hooker would have re- 
 ceived all this with complete incredulity, had not his 
 mind been prepared for new ideas by recent trans- 
 actions in his inner experience. Even as it was, a 
 certain measure of incredulity asserted itself. His 
 eye glanced round the room, resting first upon one 
 and then upon another of the gentlemen occupying 
 the arm-chairs. Among them were some of the lead- 
 
 20?
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 ing business men in Smokeover, and these were of 
 many types. One, who was different from all the 
 others, had the face of a wolf. Indicating this gentle- 
 man by a slight movement of his eyelid, Mr. Hooker 
 asked : 
 
 "Is that the type that will rule the future?" 
 
 "No, sir," answered Mr. Hotblack with great 
 energy, "it is not! The business man of the future 
 will not be a devourer of widows' houses! He will 
 be an artist, an evoker of human harmonies, a 
 prophet of the ideal bargain, a servant of his own 
 particular muse! And for that very reason he will be 
 all the more a business man. Twenty thousand 
 times more, sir — to quote your own figures! And 
 the odds will be heavily in his favour." 
 
 In delivering the last two sentences Mr. Hot- 
 black had raised his voice from an energetic whisper 
 to a kind of shout. He repeated the words several 
 times, somewhat to Mr. Hooker's surprise. Finally 
 he brought his fist down on the table, exclaiming at 
 the same time, "Twenty thousand, no less!" Hav- 
 ing said which he relapsed into one of his pensive 
 moods. 
 
 Mr. Hooker was puzzled to read the expression 
 on the psychologist's facej for while, as always, 
 deep thought sat upon his brow, a certain slyness 
 seemed to be dancing at the corners of his mouth. 
 And the mystery was only deepened when Mr. Hot- 
 black suddenly broke the silence by repeating three 
 lines of the poem he had just quoted, and that, too, 
 in a manner most peculiar. Mr. Hooker noticed that 
 the first two words of the quotation were pronounced 
 in a voice loud enough to be heard by the whole 
 
 206
 
 MR. HOTBLACK EXPOUNDS 
 
 room, while the rest was murmured in tones so low 
 as to be nearly inaudible. 
 
 "Joyy Lady! is the spirit and the power 
 Which, wedding Nature, to us gives in dower 
 A new Earth and new Heaven." 
 
 His recitation ended, Mr. Hotblack glanced round 
 the room and became aware that the gentleman of 
 the lupine countenance, with an untouched whisky- 
 and-soda on the table before him and the Sporting 
 Times held in front of his face, was closely watch- 
 ing him out of the corner of his eye. Meeting the 
 scrutiny of the wolf with a glance of scorn, and 
 leaning towards his guest, Mr. Hotblack said in a 
 yet lower voice: 
 
 "I perceive, Mr. Hooker, that we are surrounded 
 by fools — by men, I mean, to whom all poetry is a 
 dead letter or a nuisance. The atmosphere of this 
 place is depressing j already I feel it impeding the 
 cerebral circulation, and clear thought is becoming 
 impossible. We are overheard, sir. Let us return 
 to the Office immediately. I have still to explain the 
 operations of the Firm. It would be a desecration to 
 speak of them in the presence of men such as that." 
 
 When they had passed out of the room, which 
 broke into a buzz of conversation the moment the 
 door was closed, Mr. Hotblack remarked: 
 
 "Have you ever observed, sir, that in these days 
 it is wellnigh impossible to quote a dozen lines of 
 first-rate poetry without mentioning the name of a 
 popular race-horse?" 
 
 Mr. Hooker confessed that he had not observed 
 it. But ten minutes later a score of telephones were 
 
 207
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 distributing the news that Mr. Hooker, on the advice 
 of Rumbelow, Stallybrass & Corker, had backed Joy 
 Lady, a runner in the Grand National, for twenty 
 thousand pounds. 
 
 208
 
 CHAPTER TEN 
 And Mr. Hooker Beholds the Beauty of Woman 
 
 ON returning to Mr. Hotblack's private office, 
 they were confronted by an agitated clerk with 
 a sheaf of telegrams in his hand. The psychologist 
 glanced through them. 
 
 "They must wait," said he, "till my interview with 
 Mr. Hooker is concluded. Meanwhile inform the 
 Staff that we shall all be working overtime to-day — 
 probably till midnight." 
 
 When the clerk was gone Mr. Hooker said: 
 
 "You are evidently busy, Mr. Hotblack. I fear 
 I am wasting your time." 
 
 "Have the goodness to remain, sir," said Mr. 
 Hotblack. "Nothing can be more important to the 
 Firm than that you and I should understand one 
 another. It is true that since reopening after the 
 war we have been doing an enormous business. At 
 the moment we are overwhelmed. We must in- 
 crease our capital and double the Staff. But now 
 permit we to explain the nature of the business on 
 which we are engaged." 
 
 "That is what I am anxious to learn," said Mr. 
 Hooker. 
 
 "You will be surprised when you hear it," re- 
 plied Mr. Hotblack. "But let me prepare you by 
 saying that the sportsmanlike principle which guides 
 
 209
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 our operations is essentially creative. Its nature is 
 to transform the material in which it works and 
 continually to surpass itself. If you have read the 
 works of Professor Bergson you will need no further 
 explanation." 
 
 "I understand what you mean." 
 
 "Then the road is clear," said Mr. Hotblackj "you 
 shall learn at once what the operation is on which 
 Mr. Rumbelow has determined to stake the entire 
 resources of the Firm, with the odds against him at 
 two to one. Last week he summoned the Heads of 
 Departments, and the Seven International Experts, 
 who are to formulate in detail the plan of our 
 strategy, and gave us the general idea of the new 
 campaign. Permit me to read what he said, as it 
 was taken down in shorthand from his own lips." 
 
 "You will have an attentive listener," said Mr. 
 Hooker. 
 
 Whereupon Mr. Hotblack opened a locked drawer 
 in one of his cabinets, drew from it a type-written 
 document and without further delay read as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 " 'The modern political State, gentlemen, is a 
 fighting institution, an instrument in the struggle for 
 power. Beneath its mask of industrialism, which has 
 deceived many, it remains in essence what it was in 
 the days of the feudal dynasties, a war-made and 
 war-making mechanism, the only difference being 
 that, now, it makes war on a scale and by methods 
 that are an outrage to the fighting instinct itself, in- 
 herent as this is in human nature, and one of its 
 noblest elements. As the ultimate function the State 
 is designed to perform, all else in the long run must 
 
 210
 
 MR. HOOKER BEHOLDS BEAUTY OF WOMAN 
 
 give way to the necessities of war, its inner conditions, 
 social, economic and political, having gradually 
 adapted themselves to this purpose in the course of 
 the war-making centuries. 
 
 " 'In its character of war-maker the State has con- 
 trol of the entire economic resources of its subjects, 
 destroying them at intervals in conflicts with its 
 neighbours. No reforms of a decisively beneficent 
 character are possible so long as that control exists. 
 Both in the production and in the distribution of 
 wealth everything now hinges on the need of main- 
 taining its easy convertibility to the uses of war. 
 Every sixpence in Smokeover is a potential cartridge, 
 placed where it can be easiest impounded by those 
 who would turn it into one. Smokeover itself, un- 
 known to its inhabitants^ has always been a munitions 
 factory in germ, ready to be converted at a moment's 
 notice into an implement of the war-making power. 
 The process by which some of its citizens have re- 
 cently grown suddenly rich and others suddenly poor 
 is a mere back-wash from the general flood which in 
 four years has wiped out half the wealth of the 
 world. All that is characteristic of our civilization, 
 its vices and miseries, as well as its efficiency, has its 
 origin in these conditions. 
 
 " 'Gentlemen, it has now become the mission of 
 Rumbelow, Stallybrass & Corker to liberate the 
 economic resources of mankind from subservience to 
 the caprices and imbecilities of foreign policy — to 
 place the wealth of the world in an impregnable 
 position, when it is no longer exposed to capture and 
 destruction in the interests of war and of the irre- 
 sponsible powers which cause and make it. In other 
 
 211
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 words, we shall break the domination of the political 
 over the economic interest j and we shall do this as 
 a first step towards liberating the spiritual interest 
 from both. 
 
 " ^Modern war depends in the last resort upon 
 financial conditions. Whoever controls the strings 
 of international finance controls the forces which 
 govern the origin of war and its maintenance. 
 Gentlemen, we shall remove that control from the 
 hands of the politicians and from the malign mecha- 
 nism of which they are the unconscious agents. We 
 shall do this by no revolutionary methods, but by 
 a series of businesslike operations which will leave 
 the political state intact for other purposes, but in- 
 capable of making war. 
 
 " 'Step by step we shall build up an independent 
 system, on an international basis, for the organiza- 
 tion of the commerce of the world and of its attend- 
 ant finance, avoiding all political entanglements and 
 allowing no professional politician to have any part 
 in the direction of our affairs. 
 
 " 'We shall establish the method of collective 
 bargaining between nation and nation, so that the 
 exchange of goods between them, instead of being 
 conducted by thousands of confused and disconnected 
 transactions, as it now is, will be effected in a com- 
 paratively small number. Our Mathematical De- 
 partment has already worked out a complete scheme 
 for this purpose, which could be put into operation 
 to-morrow. 
 
 " 'Involved in this is the establishment of an inter- 
 national bank and of an international currency. The 
 bank will cover the whole network of our operations 
 
 212
 
 MR. HOOKER BEHOLDS BEAUTY OF WOMAN 
 
 with an adequate system of credit scientifically con- 
 trolled. The currency will be valid for all trans- 
 actions conducted under the seal of the Firmj it will 
 gradually supersede the confused and debased cur- 
 rencies now in usej and by correlation with the sys- 
 tem of collective bargaining will abolish the whole 
 problem of monetary exchange. 
 
 " *As collective bargaining, carried on by inter- 
 national currency and backed by international credit, 
 gradually extends, the Customs barriers set up be- 
 tween nations will fall down, and universal free 
 trade will follow automatically. 
 
 " ^Such is our general plan of campaign. But our 
 attack upon the problem of international finance will 
 have for its immediate objective a point in direct 
 line with the historical character of the Firm. 
 
 " *Our first operation, the growing point of the 
 whole undertaking, will consist in the application of 
 the gambling method in its most highly developed 
 and scientific form — that, namely, of Insurance 
 against Risk. Our Insurance Department, on which 
 the finest talent in the Firm has long been concen- 
 trated, will, so to speak, lead the attack. We shall 
 underpin the entire structure of industrial civiliza- 
 tion with an elastic but infrangible system of Mutual 
 Insurance, in which the interests of all nations will 
 be so co-ordinated but no injury can be inflicted on 
 any part without being shared by the organism as a 
 whole. To the citizens of the twenty-seven countries 
 where our Branches are already established we shall 
 offer the means of insuring themselves against the 
 dangers inherent in the war-making State. They will 
 insure their cities against bombardment from land, 
 
 213
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 sea or airj their commerce against blockade j their 
 mercantile marine against destruction j their goods 
 against confiscation, whether by taxation or loan 3 
 their lives and their sons' lives against death or 
 mutilation in battle. In addition to that they will 
 insure against the capricious violence of nature — 
 against earthquakes, famine, pestilence, storm and 
 other catastrophes. 
 
 " ^Before many years have elapsed we shall have 
 accumulated a vast and stable fund, under inter- 
 national trusteeship, administered in the name of 
 Rumbelow, Stallybrass & Corker. In this fund the 
 interests of all nations will be so combined that not 
 a life can be sacrificed, a house bombarded, a ship 
 sunk, a sovereign spent on powder and shot without 
 the entire comity of nations becoming jointly respon- 
 sible for the damage. Needless to say war will be 
 impossible. 
 
 " 'During the transition period, when economic 
 control is gradually passing from the war-making 
 powers into the hands of the Firm, there will be 
 dangers to be guarded against. The International 
 Fund will have to be protected from pillage, in 
 whole or in part, by any predatory State that may 
 covet its vast resources. To meet this danger our 
 assets will be given the utmost mobility, so that they 
 can be rapidly transferred from threatened points 
 to places of safety. They will be so distributed over 
 a world-wide field of investment, or capable of being 
 so distributed, as to be virtually inaccessible to the 
 government of any single state. Any cupboard that 
 may be attacked will be automatically emptied the 
 moment the burglars appear upon the scene. 
 
 214
 
 MR. HOOKER BEHOLDS BEAUTY OF WOMAN 
 
 " *These, gentlemen, are the problems on which 
 you will now proceed to concentrate your high gifts, 
 both in severalty and in combination. When your 
 plans are complete, the entire organization of the 
 Firm, with its world-wide ramifications, its immense 
 resources of brain power and expert knowledge, will 
 be flung unreservedly upon the hazard, in the fer- 
 vour of that sportsmanlike tradition which is at once 
 our glory and our inspiration.' " 
 
 Mr. Hooker listened to all this, as he had 
 promised, with a profound and rapt attention. More 
 than once he had been on the point of interrupting 
 the reader, and could hardly restrain himself, at a 
 certain passage, from starting from his chair j inter- 
 jecting, however, an emphatic approval which Mr. 
 Hotblack had not overlooked. 
 
 When the reading was over he remained for some 
 minutes immersed in thought, and then, like a man 
 weighing his words, said slowly: 
 
 "Mr. Hotblack, the man who could show us how 
 the economic and the spiritual interests of mankind 
 may be freed from their present entanglement with 
 the political system would be the greatest benefactor 
 the world has seen for many ages. First he must 
 disentangle them 5 but then, mark you, he must 
 show how the three interests are to be co-ordinated 
 in a new synthesis." 
 
 "Mr. Rumbelow will do both!" cried Mr. Hot- 
 black. 
 
 "I have often reflected on these things," con- 
 tinued Mr. Hooker. "I have been reflecting upon 
 them for years. And this is the conclusion I have 
 reached: that the double task I have just mentioned 
 
 215
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 was beyond the wit of man, and that nothing short 
 of some immense catastrophe would detach the 
 spiritual and the economic interest from their present 
 dependence on war-making conditions. At one time 
 it seemed likely that the recent war was the catas- 
 trophe in question. But things have turned out far 
 otherwise. The chains which bind the spiritual and 
 the economic interests to the dangerous wheels of 
 the political machine have not been broken but riveted 
 anew. For ages to come the chief task of industrial 
 civilization will be to pay off the debts of the last 
 v/ar and to maintain the system which will inevi- 
 tably lead to another. There was a time when I 
 believed, in common with many others, that the es- 
 tablishment of universal free trade would achieve 
 the end in view. Since then I have learnt to my 
 sorrow that political idols, to which everything else 
 has to be sacrificed, will not suffer it to be. But for 
 this I would devote my entire fortune, at this 
 moment, to a world-wide propaganda in favour of 
 universal free trade." 
 
 "Would it interest you, sir," asked Mr. Hotblack, 
 "to learn Mr. Rumbelow's views on this subject?" 
 
 "It would," said Mr. Hooker, "for I have not 
 altogether lost the hope I once had in this direction. 
 You must remember, Mr. Hotblack, that among the 
 Quakers, from whom I come. Free Trade is a tradi- 
 tion. My great-grandfather discussed it with Dr. 
 Johnson. My grandfather was mobbed in Bristol 
 for advocating it after the Napoleonic wars. My 
 father was one of Cobden's earliest friends. When 
 I studied economic science in Cambridge years ago 
 my father was terrified lest I should be led astray, 
 
 216
 
 MR. HOOKER BEHOLDS BEAUTY OF WOMAN 
 
 and gave me a solemn charge, shortly before his 
 death, never to betray the cause. *It will draw the 
 dragon's teeth,' he saidj 'it will make wars impos- 
 sible.' But let me hear Mr. Rumbelow's views." 
 
 "They coincide with your own," replied Mr. Hot- 
 black. "You must know, sir, that whenever the 
 Chief offers an opinion on an important subject, I 
 make a note of his very words. Here they are." 
 
 Taking a note-book from his pocket, Mr. Hot- 
 black consulted the lettered index, found the place 
 and began to read: 
 
 " ''The Quakers have been essentially right in most 
 
 things ' Pardon me, sir, this is the wrong 
 
 passage." 
 
 "Go on, I pray you," said Mr. Hooker j "I wish 
 to hear the rest of it." 
 
 *' ^The Quakers have been essentially right in most 
 things. . They have preserved the original impulse 
 of the Christian religion, for which they have paid 
 the price in becoming one of the smallest of the sects. 
 In trade especially they have proved themselves 
 genuine sportsmen, always giving the other party to 
 the bargain a fair run for his m^oney. My Lady and 
 I have often been tempted to join them? " 
 
 As Mr. Hotblack read this out a dark suspicion 
 flung its shadow across the mind of the millionaire. 
 Was the man before him an artful villain? He re- 
 membered how he had once asked himself the same 
 question about Rumbelow, and that an hour later the 
 bookmaker had saved his life. In an instant his 
 generous soul dismissed the thought j and Mr. Hot- 
 black went on: 
 
 "Here is the passage about Free Trade. I find, 
 
 217
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 after all, that it runs continuously with what I have 
 just read about the Quakers. 
 
 " ^If the folitkians who made the recent 'peace 
 had struck decisively for universal free trade^ they 
 might have put the rest of their da?nned treaty' — 
 observe the careful choice of language, Mr. Hooker 
 — Hhe rest of their damned treaty on the fire. But 
 nothing decisively beneficent will ever originate in 
 that quarter? " 
 
 "The politicians do their best with the machinery 
 they have to work," said Mr. Hooker, "and I greatly 
 dislike the harsh judgments that are directed against 
 them. But, if this is what Mr. Rumbelow means, I, 
 too, believe that the machinery itself is radically 
 unfit for serving the major interests of mankind. 
 The political bottle, Mr. Hotblack, is not made for 
 the wine of moral idealism. It bursts under the 
 pressure. 
 
 "Permit me, as a psychologist, to amend the 
 figure," replied Mr. Hotblack. "The political bottle, 
 sir, is made of the skin of a highly pachydermatous 
 animal j it does not burst, but blows the idealism 
 back into the face of the unfortunate idealist. Any- 
 how, men are losing faith in it. The worship of the 
 Bottle, which, as you know well, Mr. Hooker, has 
 displaced all other forms of religion in our Western 
 civilization, is rapidly becoming a discredited cult. 
 Consider what is happening in Smokeover itself. 
 Here are the politicians urging us in accents of 
 desperation to ^produce more,' as the only alternative 
 to economic ruin. But Smokeover will not respond., 
 Production steadily falls off. Why? Well, sir, for 
 fifty years before the war Smokeover had been *pro- 
 
 218
 
 MR. HOOKER BEHOLDS BEAUTY OF WOMAN 
 
 ducing more.' But what has become of 'the more' 
 it produced? Most of it has been blown up on the 
 battlefield and the rest has made fortunes for men 
 like yourself. What motive can men have for sup- 
 porting a system which disposes of the fruits of their 
 toil in this manner?" 
 
 As Mr. Hotblack, incautiously yielding to the 
 current of his ideas, pronounced the last sentences, 
 Mr. Hooker winced visibly j and the psychologist 
 was casting about for an effective mode of making 
 amends when the door opened, and Mr. Rum- 
 below, accompanied by My Lady, walked into the 
 office. 
 
 There was a moment of surprise, of tension, of 
 tentative adjustment to new conditions, as when the 
 blinds are thrown up in a darkened room, or the mist 
 breaks on a mountain top, or an army is ordered to 
 take a new front, or a sailor losing his landmark has 
 suddenly to find his bearing by the stars, or as when 
 a soul released from the body is wondering what has 
 happened and where it is. 
 
 In a few seconds the transition was effected, the 
 four figures standing motionless and silent mean- 
 while j each keenly conscious of the other's presence, 
 but unconscious of itself: My Lady wonderful, 
 radiant, self-luminous, a pure essence diffused 
 through the roomj at her side the Chief, a princely, 
 superstitious adventurer, a leader in attack j before 
 him Mr. Hooker, erect, Quaker-like, responsible, an 
 image of moral worth, a master of menj behind him 
 the psychologist, alert, sagacious, loyal j and, around 
 them all, the office furniture, the desks, the cabinets, 
 the pigeon-holes, the shelves, the typewriter, and 
 
 219
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 the telephone — the mechanism of business, the ap- 
 paratus of finance. 
 
 Once before Mr. Hooker had seen My Lady's 
 face, but not clearly nor in the light of day. Now, 
 too, she was dimly seenj for the moment he beheld 
 her a mist gathered in his eyes. Joy and pain ran 
 together into one experience: the joy of beholding 
 an immortal thing, the pain of a poignant contrast 
 between the immortal presence and its corruptible 
 setting j the two interpenetrating one another and 
 forming in their union a third emotion for which 
 there is no name. It was an astonishment, nay, a 
 shock. 
 
 My Lady was the first to speak, and as she spoke 
 the tension was released, the difficulty removed, the 
 transition completed and a way opened for free in- 
 tercourse. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Hooker," she said, "you have been In 
 great tribulation. We wish you to know that you 
 have friends who love you." 
 
 The mist in his eyes became great drops and these, 
 rolling down, were the only answer he made to My 
 Lady's words. He turned to the Chief. 
 
 "Let me thank you for saving my life. There was 
 a link forged between us that night. It will last. 
 I am glad to have lived if only to hear what My 
 Lady has just said." 
 
 Mr. Rumbelow grasped the hand of the million- 
 aire, but the reply came from My Lady, 
 
 ^^Have not we three stood together at the ■point 
 where life joins hands with death and the worst 
 passes into the best?" 
 
 With a dignity that became him well, Mr. Hooker 
 
 220
 
 MR. HOOKER BEHOLDS BEAUTY OF WOMAN 
 
 lifted the fine hand of My Lady and kissed it like 
 a courtier of old. 
 
 She turned upon him a smile that was all radiance. 
 
 "We began well," she said. 
 
 "We shall end better," he replied. 
 
 Mr. Hotblack was standing in the background, 
 deep in thought. "This," he was reflecting, "is both 
 a beginning and an end. Were all revealed that the 
 present moment contains, were the promise of it 
 suddenly expanded into the fulfilment, no one would 
 ask any more what Mr. Hooker will do with his 
 money. His problem is solved." 
 
 Up to the last word spoken the Voice of the 
 "Legend had shown no signs of weariness or failure, 
 rather gathering strength as it went along. But 
 now it abruptly stopped. Was the Legend at an end? 
 Or was the Voice merely pausing as it had done so 
 of ten y to reflect upon the last turn of its story? The 
 Author was in doubt. He rubbed his cold and 
 stiffened fingers, musing deeply the while on what 
 he had just heard; and as he did so certain memories 
 were awakened which m^oved him greatly. An ejacu- 
 lation must have escaped him, or perhaps it was a 
 sighy or it may have been a tear. But whatever it 
 was the Voice seemed to observe it, and suddenly 
 went on, not rapidly as before, but slowly, as the 
 manner of the Immortals is when speaking of their 
 own business. 
 
 Mr. Hooker's well-spent life had been devoted, 
 in essentials, to the pursuit of the True and to the 
 service of the Good. With Beauty, the third of the 
 
 221
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 immortal Sisters, his acquaintance hitherto was 
 limited and incidental. Born in an age which looks 
 upon Beauty as an adornment, and in no sense a 
 necessity of existence, and in a land where those who 
 accord it divine honours are apt to be made a mock 
 of, he so far shared the characteristics of his genera- 
 tion as to be untroubled by the presence of the ugly. 
 Like many another rich man in Smokeover, he lived 
 in an exceptionally ugly house, and was indifferent to 
 its ugliness. The Ethical Society over which he 
 had presided did, indeed, from time to time offer 
 lectures to the public on the relation of Art to this, 
 to that and to the other; but not all the gentlemen 
 who gave these lectures were either lovers of the 
 Beautiful themselves or causes of its being loved by 
 other people. Mr. Hooker, who listened to the 
 lectures with great attention, was roused by one of 
 them to buy a large number of pictures, a thing 
 which had hardly occurred to him before; but they 
 were not very good, he seldom looked at them, his 
 attention being preoccupied by what most men con- 
 sider the weightier matters of the law. He was one 
 of those who can live without beauty or the love of 
 it, unaware that under these conditions things are 
 only half seen, life only half lived, deeds only half 
 done. He knew of course that it was better to hear 
 the lark sing than the mouse squeak; better to walk 
 in a forest of trees than in a forest of chimneys, 
 better to inhale the fragrance of roses in his garden 
 than the stench of burning lubricants and the fumes 
 of petrol in the Smokeover streets. But the differ- 
 ence between the ugly and the beautiful was not 
 vital: it touched no essential value, and was by no 
 
 222
 
 MR. HOOKER BEHOLDS BEAUTY OF WOMAN 
 
 means to be compared to the difference between right 
 and wrong. 
 
 There is, however, one manifestation of the 
 Beautiful, and that a supreme one, to which mankind, 
 even in ages the most sordid, has never been indif- 
 ferent. Whether writers on "yEsthetics" have ever 
 noticed the fact or not, and most of them seem to 
 have overlooked it, there is little doubt that the 
 highest and purest form of Beauty revealed to the 
 eye of sense is that which may be seen in the face of 
 a beautiful woman. Here the soul of Beauty be- 
 comes incarnate and displays its power, mightier than 
 death, more terrible than the sword. In this form, 
 at all events. Beauty is still acknowledged as a neces- 
 sity of human life and not as a mere adornment 
 whose presence or absence makes no vital difference. 
 Provided everybody were given his "rights," a world 
 without Art would present no great difficulty to 
 the mass of your voters, agitators and electioneering 
 politicians, nor would it be a nightmare to some of 
 your moralists j and a world cut up into half-acre 
 allotments, canopied by smoke, where the hooting of 
 motors never ceased and the glare of their head- 
 lights was never extinguished, where the larks were 
 all served up on toast and the birds of Paradise all 
 killed for their feathers, could be borne by most of 
 you — if only the Clubs v/ere comfortable, the news- 
 papers piquant, the cinemas attractive, the publie- 
 houses well warmed and the beer good. But a 
 world without beautiful women would be intoler- 
 able to everybody, and most intolerable to the women 
 themselves. The presence of beauty in this form is 
 never treated as a mere addendum to the values of 
 
 223
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 life, but always as part of their essential constitu- 
 tion. 
 
 Do you say that this solitary exception to the gen- 
 eral indifference cannot be set down to a love of the 
 Beautiful for its own sake? The point is doubtful, 
 but may be granted for the sake of argument. The 
 beauty of women is assuredly one of the chief perils 
 that beset your pilgrimage through time. It marks 
 the point where the road to heaven intersects the 
 road to hell, but without any clear intimation or 
 legible finger-post set up at the parting of the ways 
 to determine which is which j and many there be that 
 go astray when they come to it. Yet to keep the 
 love of beauty alive on any terms, in a world where 
 so many forces are conspiring to destroy it, is some- 
 thing gained j and were this all you owed to women 
 you would still owe them much. As Dante bore 
 witness, the beauty of a woman may become, to the 
 beholder whose vision is uncorrupted, the passport 
 into a world of absolute and eternal values. Such a 
 vision, unmingled with carnal desire, is a spiritual 
 experience, as pure, as profound, as long lasting as 
 any that is accorded to the soul of man. 
 
 It had come to Mr. Hooker. Like the lightning 
 which shines from the one part of heaven to the 
 other, at an hour when no man expects it, Beauty 
 had suddenly unveiled herself, and Mr. Hooker, 
 gazing upon her face, saw his past interpreted and 
 knew beyond gainsaying that all was well. 
 
 A dim light was breaking over SmokeoveVy the 
 dawn was coming and the Voice grew faint. For 
 some time longer it continued to muttery but the 
 
 224
 
 MR. HOOKER BEHOLDS BEAUTY OF WOMAN 
 
 Author could catch only brief and broken fragments 
 of ijchat it said. He heard the name of Margaret 
 Wolf stone repeated several tinieSy of Billie Smithy 
 and of another fei'son^ a Professor^ the rest of whose 
 name the Voice see^ned unable to pronounce. He is 
 not sure that the Voice which sfoke these names was 
 that which had told him the Legend of the Mad Mil- 
 lionaire. It may have been another. The stir of 
 Smokeover rousing itself for the day^s work was 
 making it hard to distinguish these subtler sounds^ 
 and the Author was on the "point of closing his booky 
 with a disappointed sense that the Legends were in- 
 completey when a third Voice, different from any 
 he had heard before, said quite distinctly: 
 
 ^^Try the other Bridges. ^"^ 
 
 Next night the Author posted himself at another 
 Bridge, hard by the spot where the Smokeover High 
 School for Girls overlooks a winding in the River 
 of For getf Illness. He found it a good Bridge for 
 his purpose. What he heard there shall be told in 
 due course. 
 
 225
 
 PART THREE 
 
 The Legend of Margaret Wolfstone
 
 *
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 Miss Wolfstone Becomes Clairvoyant 
 
 MISS MARGARET WOLFSTONE, of Gir- 
 ton College, ex-nurse of the Red Cross and 
 now headmistress of the Smokeover High School 
 for Girls, was notable among women for a fine pres- 
 ence and for a winsome and beautiful articulation of 
 the mother tongue. Her manner was vigorous, but 
 under restraint j her address buoyant and charming j 
 her laughter musical, timely, and not infrequent. 
 She looked you straight in the eyes and grasped you 
 firmly by the hand. If you tried to draw her por- 
 trait from memory you would get into difficulties 
 and end by falling into a passion with yourself. Now 
 you would draw her features too masculine in their 
 strength, now too womanly in their tenderness. You 
 would probably begin by making her the handsome 
 but rather domineering matron of a hospital, which 
 you would instantly rub out. At the next attempt 
 she would emerge as a Raphael Madonna, which 
 clearly wouldn't doj but you would only make mat- 
 ters worse by putting in Mona Lisa's smile. Then 
 you would begin again: you would sit down, change 
 your pencils and think j and, sure you had her this 
 time, would produce an excellent study of Lady Mac- 
 beth. Worse then ever! And now for a last effort: 
 you will abandon yourself to "inspiration," and let 
 
 229
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 your pencil draw what it will. It draws Lady 
 Hamilton as a laughing Msenad. Then you give it 
 up. A most elusive woman! 
 
 Why Miss Wolfstone had remained unmarried 
 was a problem to be thought on, for a woman more 
 fitted to be the mother of the Gracchi would be hard 
 to find. Yet the reasons were simple: first, that 
 fathers for the Gracchi are none too plentiful j 
 second, that Miss Wolfstone was hard to please } 
 third, that she was devoted to her profession as a 
 teacher. Most assuredly opportunities were not lack- 
 ing. Had an instrument been constructed for record- 
 ing emotional disturbances among Miss Wolfstone^s 
 male friends, the needle would often have trembled, 
 and sometimes with violence. It trembled every 
 month when the Council of the Girls' High School 
 interviewed their headmistress: it trembled at the 
 meetings of the Society for Ethical Culture, es- 
 pecially when Miss Wolfstone was smoking ciga- 
 rettes. There was a credible report that she had re- 
 ceived eight offers of marriage when acting as a 
 nurse J and even now there was a gallant officer with 
 one arm who had more business in Smokeover than 
 his War Office duties could account for. She liked 
 him all the better for having only one arm, and told 
 him soj but she was sorry he had so few ideas. 
 
 Miss Wolfstone was a most accomplished and 
 original teacher of the young j her school was filled 
 to overflowing. The girls loved her, and it was a 
 common saying among them that "you could not 
 tell her a liej no, not if you tried ever soP She had 
 developed a method of dramatizing the teacher's 
 work and was training her assistants in the use of 
 
 230
 
 MISS WOLFSTONE CLAIRVOYANT 
 
 it. When a problem had to be solved, even in 
 geometry or in grammar, she would represent the 
 elements of it as actors in a drama, set them in move- 
 ment one against another, sketch a situation and bring 
 on a crisis. Experts in education would come down 
 to Smokeover to study her work. 
 
 She would carry the same gift, sometimes with 
 disconcerting effect, into the discussions of the Ethi- 
 cal Society. She would remind the disputants that 
 in every case of "doing good" there are two wills to 
 be considered: the will of the person who "does" 
 the good, and the will of the person to whom the 
 good is "done." Then she would construct a dia- 
 logue between the two sides and end up by telling 
 the angry philosophers that the whole was a mario- 
 nette show, of which they themselves had been 
 secretly pulling the strings. Had this been done 
 by anybody else it would have been resented j but 
 the grace and good humour, not to say the good 
 looks, of Miss Wolfstone carried it off. Though for- 
 midable she was not aggressive. 
 
 And that was not the end of her dramatizings. 
 Every Christmas the girls of the High School acted 
 a play written by the headmistress. A public hall 
 was engaged for the performance 5 all of Smokeover 
 that possessed evening dress turned out to see it; 
 and once a dramatic critic came down from London. 
 He reminded his readers next morning that no 
 woman had ever been a great dramatist, but ad- 
 mitted that Miss Wolfstone unquestionably had 
 "talent." 
 
 The girls at the High School always knew when 
 Miss Wolfstone's play was in preparation. They 
 
 231
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 knew it by the peals of laughter that would sud- 
 denly break out towards midnight from Miss Wolf- 
 stone's little study on the second floor. When Miss 
 Wolf:tone was in the schoolroom she often laughed 
 under due restraint j but when she was writing her 
 plays, and alone in her study, she sometimes let 
 herself go — a point to be considered by those philos- 
 ophers who teach that solitude and laughter are 
 incompatible. Not that her emotions in the study 
 were all of comic origin. There were others 3 but 
 these were inaudible. 
 
 One dismal afternoon in winter, at the very hour 
 when Mr. Hooker was discoursing to the doctor on 
 the Unreal End of things. Miss Wolfstone was 
 standing at the window of her study looking out into 
 the great playground that lay beneath. Had the day 
 been fine she would have been playing hockey with 
 the senior girls. But the weather was vile, and 
 Smokeover had put on its filthiest attire. So, play- 
 ground games being out of the question, she sent 
 the girls to the gymnasium and resolved to profit 
 by a quiet hour to finish the scene in her play at 
 which she had been working last night. 
 
 ^ Before her was the playground, the surface dimly 
 visible through the mist as a pool of water, and 
 beyond that the gloom of the great city, the sound 
 of its traffic now sunk to a growl. Standing at the 
 window, her mind's eye pictured the scene beyond: 
 the cold and foggy streets, the dirty pavements, the 
 thoroughfares sweating black mud, the macintoshes 
 and the umbrellas, the crowded and mephitic trams, 
 the condensed moisture running down their windows 
 
 232
 
 MISS WOLFSTONE CLAIRVOYANT 
 
 in streams. She thought of the great chimneys and 
 of their smoke pouring downwards under pressure 
 of the drizzle, and of how the air outside would be 
 full of smuts. From this her mind passed to the 
 enormous wealth which had been rolling into the 
 city during the last years. A moment later she was 
 thinking of Mr. Hooker and of his perplexities and 
 of his recent escape from a violent death. 
 
 Then she turned to her table and took up a card 
 that was lying there. It announced a lecture by a cele- 
 brated Pessimist for five o'clock that day, under the 
 auspices of the Society for Ethical Culture. The 
 subject was "The Putrefaction of Modern Art — illus- 
 trated by lantern-slides of the tombstones in the 
 Smokeover Cemetery." Miss Wolfstone laughed. 
 So Modern Art was not only defunct but putrefying. 
 What next? At the same time she felt sorry for 
 those who had to bury their dead in the Smokeover 
 Cemetery on a day like this. 
 
 The Smokeover Cemetery! The words seemed 
 to grip her consciousness with a sudden mastery; 
 thought came after, pointing a finger; and her im- 
 agination, always quick to follow when thought was 
 pointing the way, was instantly at work, flitting hither 
 and thither over the melancholy scene. She saw the 
 hideous tombstones, massed together in every com- 
 bination of ugliness; she watched the funeral pro- 
 cessions passing through the iron gates and winding 
 their way to the open graves; she was inside the 
 mortuary chapel listening to the dreadful service 
 of the Church of England and to the sobs of the 
 women in black. With great rapidity the facts be- 
 came concrete and alive; then, suddenly, they seemed 
 
 233
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 to focus themselves into a vision, which rose before 
 her perfect in detail, as a thing witnessed by the 
 bodily eye — no uncommon experience of Miss Woif- 
 stone when her dramatic self was awake. For a few 
 moments the vision lingered, its outlines unblurred 
 by any doubts of its reality j then vanished as sud- 
 denly as it had come. 
 
 A thing to be made a note of! In an instant her 
 memorandum book was out, and these lines were 
 jotted down: 
 
 "Funeral in Smokeover Cemetery — man burying 
 his wife — dark afternoon in midwinter — fog, 
 drizzle, cold — surrounding tombstones described — 
 piled earth by graveside (blue clay.? bones and bits 
 of old coffin furniture sticking out.? ) — cemetery chap- 
 lain — Church of England service — "pains of eternal 
 death" — undertaker's men slip in wet clay and drop 
 coffin on chaplain's foot — chaplain swears — conver- 
 sation of mourners before and after — and of under- 
 takers' men in public-house." 
 
 Miss Wolfstone, holding the book before her and 
 with her pen in her mouth, looked at what she had 
 written. "I wonder," she reflected, "if any manager 
 would put that on the stage, or the public stand it. 
 Might, if it were part of a bigger thing. The Pessi- 
 mist would probably cite it as an instance of putre- 
 faction in Modern Art — 'debased realism' and all 
 the rest. After all, the Gravedigger Scene in Hamlet 
 is pretty strong meat. Archaic, of course. But it 
 wasn't archaic when Shakespeare wrote it." 
 
 However, she would hear that lecture about the 
 tombstones at five o'clock j it was sure to have points. 
 She knew the Pessimist and admired him — "a sharp 
 
 234
 
 MISS WOLFSTONE CLAIRVOYANT 
 
 threshing instrument with teeth." But now to the 
 Christmas Play. 
 
 It had for title "Who is my Neighbour?" and 
 was to be described as "an old Morality Play in a 
 new dress," The plot turned on the adventures of 
 Three Wise Men who embark on a systematic ex- 
 ploration of the world for the purpose of discover- 
 ing who their "neighbour" really is. As they jour- 
 ney from place to place they pass the time on the 
 road in constructing elaborate programmes of the 
 "good" they will do to their "neighbour" when they 
 find him. At each halting place they meet some 
 fellow traveller whom one of the Three declares to 
 be the "neighbour" they are looking for. But the 
 others not agreeing, they fall into an argument, 
 which develops into a quarrel and an interchange of 
 blows, the relationship of the Three growing more 
 and more acrimonious the further the search is pro- 
 longed. At length, after endless quarrels and un- 
 neighbourly treatment of one another, the Three 
 Wise Men discover to their immense surprise that 
 each has been "neighbour" to the other two all the 
 time, and that they would have done far better to 
 stay at home and respect each other's landmarks. 
 
 The scene on which Miss Wolfstone was now 
 working was that in which the Three Wise Men 
 come to blows for the last time over the question 
 "Who is my neighbour?" The idea to be developed 
 was that the quarrels between them had to reach the 
 extreme limit of bitterness before the discovery could 
 be made that each was neighbour to the others j this 
 was now to emerge like a flame of spontaneous com- 
 bustion as they knocked their heads together in a last 
 
 235
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 and desperate scrimmage. In all this she had her 
 eye on something in the Hegelian philosophy, with 
 which she was not unacquainted j she was also think- 
 ing of the war and its lessons; but her main problem 
 at the moment was to contrive the scene in a form 
 which could be acted by the three graceful girls, 
 who played the Wise Men, without undue violence 
 on the one hand and without sacrifice of essential 
 humour on the other. 
 
 To this, then, she addressed herself, concentrat- 
 ing her mind on the problem before her and making 
 a great effort to pick up the thread and recapture the 
 spirit in which she had left off last night. But soon 
 she found, to her great annoyance, that the vein 
 was completely dried up. Her brain seemed 
 paralyzed at the point where the spirit needed its 
 assistance for invention, creation, expression; par- 
 alyzed at that point, but intensely active at others. 
 Nothing to the purpose would come. Every ex- 
 pression she jotted down was unnatural; every line 
 had to be blotted out, and the next attempt would 
 only yield something worse. A stagnant and melan- 
 choly atmosphere, in which creation was impossible, 
 seemed to surround her; and the springs of laughter, 
 essential for the vitalizing of the scene, refused to 
 flow. 
 
 The truth was that she could not wrench her mind 
 away from the dark track into which it had been 
 forced by her recent graveyard meditations. These 
 acted as an inhibition. Do what she would, the miser- 
 able scenes her imagination had conjured up, hover- 
 ing in the background of the mind, gave their tone 
 to all the rest and kept her thoughts on the level of 
 
 236
 
 MISS WOLFSTONE CLAIRVOYANT 
 
 unhappy things j where, by a subtle association, they 
 passed rapidly from one calamity to another, but 
 always alighting at last, for some reason she could 
 not explain, on the image of Mr. Hooker and his 
 troubles. She thought of his gloomy home; of his 
 bereavements J of his loneliness; of the skeleton in 
 his cupboard; of his racked and agitated conscience; 
 of the insoluble problem he was battling with ; of the 
 shock and the horror of the accident on the line. 
 Then she remembered his piteous consent to receive 
 the advice of the Ethical Society and the despera- 
 tion such an act implied, and the cold comfort he 
 would get from the advice. She had written to him 
 herself. What good had she done? She wondered. 
 Perhaps it was a foolish act. 
 
 There was something in common between Miss 
 Wolfstone and the millionaire. Like him she came 
 of a Puritan ancestry, and was aware that, in spite 
 of all the changes her mind had undergone, the old 
 habit of looking for a "lead" and trusting to fugitive 
 intuitions was still strong within her. She had often 
 observed the same thing in him. When, for example, 
 he had startled the Society by his grotesque proposal 
 about Rumbelow, she divined at once how the idea 
 had originated. It had burst upon him in the night 
 watches, and, suddenly reverting to type, he had 
 accepted it with the uncritical obstinacy of a mystic. 
 She had done the same thing herself a thousand 
 times, sometimes with unfortunate results, but not 
 always — no, not always by any means! 
 
 And there was another link, perhaps deeper. Mr. 
 Hooker's moral philosophy, as another Voice has 
 told, had for its bedrock a certain maxim or Great 
 
 237
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 Principle — "So live that by affirming your own per- 
 sonality you may help others to affirm theirs." This 
 maxim, reiterated by Mr. Hooker a thousand times, 
 was the lode star of his conduct and the theme on 
 which his ethical propaganda, his lectures and 
 speeches were variations. To the members of the 
 Society it formed the centre of an endless and in- 
 conclusive argument, and when Professors came down 
 from Oxford with the latest pronouncement of 
 philosophical culture, they seldom failed to point 
 out that the Great Principle was nothing new, a 
 mere restatement of an old formula of Kant, and 
 open to grave objection on logical grounds. It was 
 noted, however, that Miss Wolfstone made no con- 
 tribution to these exercises, but remained consistently 
 silent whenever the Great Principle was in question. 
 She was meditating on its dramatic possibilities. 
 
 One night, walking home with Mr. Hooker after 
 a meeting, as she often did, she said to him, "Mr. 
 Hooker, I believe in your Principle. That is, I be- 
 lieve in it not as a thing to be argued about, but as 
 a thing to be tried. It's the best working philosophy 
 I know of, provided always you limit the field of 
 its application to a scope you can manage. I have 
 tried it myself within limits, and I want to tell you 
 that it works admirably — yes, delightfully. Before 
 I have done I mean to make it the driving power in 
 the life of my school. I do it all by indirection, 
 chiefly by means of the plays I write for the girls 
 and make them act. I never mention the Principle 
 itself, though I shall when I have got it fully at 
 work. The girls fall into it unconsciously; so do 
 the teachers. In the course of time it will become 
 
 238
 
 MISS WOLFSTONE CLAIRVOYANT 
 
 the basis of education everywhere, the source of a 
 spiritual revival, beginning in the schools. Dear 
 Mr. Hooker" — she often addressed him thus — "I 
 can't measure what I owe you for fixing that idea 
 in my mind. It is such a sound thing j so different 
 from all the rotten contentiousness of our Society! 
 It was the first clear point of departure, the first 
 authentic finger-post, that I found at a time when I 
 was completely lost in life. I owe it to you. Thank 
 you a thousand times. Good-night." 
 
 Thinking of these things and weighed down by a 
 sense of failure. Miss Wolfstone laid her manu- 
 script aside, realizing that by no effort could she 
 produce another line that day. Very slowly she 
 opened a drawer, placed the manuscript inside, and, 
 with the same slow movement, closed the drawer, 
 musing deeply all the time. 
 
 She looked at her watch; it was half-past four. 
 Should she go to the Pessimist's lecture — or join the 
 girls in the gymnasium? True, she had had enough 
 of Smokeover Cemetery for that afternoon. Still, 
 the Pessimist was always worth hearing; and then 
 the speeches afterwards — they would certainly be 
 amusing! 
 
 A few minutes later Miss Wolfstone found her- 
 self in one of the crowded trams. Among the pas- 
 sengers she noticed several members of the Ethical 
 Society — the Champion of the Simple Life, the de- 
 signer of women's frocks, the dentist and two 
 spiritualists — these last in close conversation — all on 
 their way to the lecture. 
 
 Presently a schoolboy in a dripping macintosh got 
 in, and seeing Miss Wolfstone at the further end 
 
 239
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 forced his way through the standing passengers until 
 he was in front of her. It was Billie Smith, the 
 would-be pirate, a close friend of the headmistress. 
 
 "Where are you going, Billie r" she asked. 
 
 "I'm going to the lecture. Father said I might. 
 He doesn't believe in cemeteries. He and Mother 
 are going to be cremated. It's better fun than being 
 buried—don't you think so. Miss Wolf stone? 
 Father's always talking about cemeteries, and he 
 wants Ted and me to grow up to hate them. I heard 
 him tell Mother so. But we haven't quite made up 
 our minds. Ted can't come to the lecture — he's got 
 a sore throat. I want to see the pictures. They're 
 sure to be ripping." 
 
 "I hate cemeteries as much as your father does," 
 said Miss Wolfstone. "I've seen one this afternoon, 
 and it was a very nasty place. 
 
 "Then I think / shall hate them, too," said Billie. 
 "You know, I mean tOy Miss Wolfstone. But, oh, 
 I say, there's something to tell you! Father says 
 Mr. Hooker doesn't know what to do with all his 
 money. Ted and I have got a plan!" 
 
 And without a pause he reeled off the great 
 scheme of buried treasure. 
 
 "It's a bully plan, Billie," said Miss Wolfstone. 
 "You'll take me with you on the pirate ship, won't 
 you ? " 
 
 "Rather!" cried Billie. "You shall be head 
 stewardess. — No, you shall be nurse to the wounded. 
 We're sure to have lots of wounded. Miss Wolf- 
 stone. And — oh, I say — if we get wrecked, you 
 shall save my life — no, Ted's life — same as you 
 saved Mr. Rumbelow's when you were torpedoed." 
 
 240
 
 MISS WOLFSTONE CLAIRVOYANT 
 
 "I'd rather be nurse, if you don't mind, Billie. 
 And I suppose you'll give me a share o£ the treasure." 
 
 "Rather! How much would you like?" 
 
 "I shall want a million at least." 
 
 "Oh, I say, that's a lot! It won't leave much for 
 the others." 
 
 "I won't go for less, Billie, especially if I have to 
 save Ted's life. But are you two going to be pirates 
 always ?^^ 
 
 "Oh, no, only for a bit. When we've finished 
 being pirates we are going to be doctors. — Oh, I say, 
 do you know what a boy said in form this morn- 
 ing? Old Baines asked him for an example of the 
 Ablative Absolute — not in Latin, in English — and 
 what do you think he said? *C^sar, having 
 finished being sick, pursued the Gauls.' Wasn't it 
 fun?" 
 
 "And it was a wrong example too, Billie. So 
 when you and Ted have finished being pirates you 
 are going to pursue your patients. Is that it?" 
 
 "We're going to make them better," said Billie., 
 
 "How are you going to do it?" 
 
 "Promise you won't tell anybody!" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, we are going to invent a medicme that will 
 put all the bad people to sleep for the rest of their 
 lives — so that they can't do any more harm and — 
 you know — so that they can't have any children." 
 
 Billie said all this in a whisper and hesitated a 
 little over the last sentence, as though he were dimly 
 conscious that the topic was rather an indelicate one 
 to broach to a lady. 
 
 "So you are a Eugenist, Billie?" 
 
 241
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 '^Father's one. He's always talking about that — 
 when he isn't talking about cemeteries." 
 
 "Does he talk to Ted and you about it?" 
 
 "No, not exactly. But, you know, we listen some- 
 times." And Billie blushed to the roots of his hair. 
 
 "But when you have invented your medicine, 
 how are you going to find out who the bad people 
 are?" 
 
 "Oh, the policeman will do that! Every police- 
 man is to have a bottle of our medicine in his pocket, 
 and when he catches a bad person he'll give him a 
 dose. We'll give one to Mr. Rumbelow. We heard 
 Father say that the police ought to give him 
 a sleeping draught. That's what gave us the 
 idea." 
 
 "But suppose the bad people get hold of your 
 medicine and give it to the good ones?" 
 
 "The policeman wouldn't let them," said Billie. 
 "The policemen are all good." 
 
 "Ah, but you know, Billie, the bad people would 
 hire bad policemen — new ones." 
 
 "The beasts!" said Billie. "We didn't think of 
 that. But I know! We shall have to keep the medi- 
 cine locked up!" 
 
 "I think you will," said Miss Wolfstone. "And 
 mind you get a good lock, and a good policeman to 
 stand guard over it." 
 
 Hereupon the designer of women's frocks burst 
 into loud laughter. Billie, who had incautiously 
 raised his voice at the last sentences, gave the listener 
 a glance of wrath and mentally put him down as 
 one of the first to whom the lethal draught should 
 be administered. Then, resuming his whisper, he 
 
 242
 
 MISS WOLFSTONE CLAIRVOYANT 
 
 turned to Miss Wolfstone and went off on another 
 tack. 
 
 "Oh, Miss Wolfstone," he said, "do you know 
 what happened this afternoon? I was just going 
 to tell you when you began about the pirates. Father 
 heard it from a man who was there, and said to 
 Mother if that didn't prove cremation what did? It 
 happened at Mrs. Hooker's funeral. The clergy- 
 man was quite tipsy, and swore like anything, and 
 some of the men barged into him with the coffin, 
 and there was a regular fight. Wasn't it awful?" 
 
 At that moment the car stopped in front of the 
 Hall where the Pessimist was to lecture, and the 
 passengers began to alight. Miss Wolfstone, who 
 was very pale, kept her seat. 
 
 "You're coming too," said Billie, as he prepared 
 to follow the others. 
 
 "No, not to-night, Billie." 
 
 Billie's countenance fell. 
 
 "Oh, do!" he cried. "If you don't come I shan't 
 enjoy the lecture one bit. And then we can go home 
 together and talk about the policeman. And see," 
 he added, pulling something out of his pocket, "I've 
 got a box of chocolates. Ripping ones! " 
 
 "No, I'm too tired. Besides, I've been in Smoke- 
 over Cemetery once already to-day, and between 
 you and me, Billie, I can't stand any more. Good- 
 night, dear!" 
 
 On returning to the High School, Miss Wolfstone 
 went straight to her study, took out her memorandum 
 book, copied what she had written in the afternoon, 
 and in a parallel column wrote down word for word 
 the story she had heard from Billie. 
 
 243
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 Miss Wolfstone Proves Herself an Adventuress 
 
 T^ HILE Miss Wolfstone and Billie Smith were 
 " ^ discoursing in the manner aforesaid of buried 
 treasure, eugenics, the disposal of the dead and the 
 suppression of the wicked, Mr. Hooker, as the 
 Legend has told, was being confirmed, by a strange 
 series of events, in a certain irrevocable determina- 
 tion. In consequence of which a tall gentleman with 
 a keen face and masterful hands, a black bag open 
 at his side, might have been seen next day in a first- 
 class carriage on the line to Smokeover. This was 
 Mr. Polycarp, the lawyer, summoned by the million- 
 aire to receive instructions in respect of his new 
 Will. 
 
 Mr. Polycarp was far from being enchanted with 
 the prospect before him. For some time past 
 evidence had been accumulating which, in Mr. Poly- 
 carp's judgment, confirmed the embarrassing con- 
 clusion that his client's mind was becoming unhinged. 
 For example, among the documents in the black 
 bag was the letter, written by Hooker many weeks 
 before, which had first aroused the lawyer's sus- 
 picions. Mr. Polycarp took it out and read it over 
 again. "My dear Polycarp," it ran, "I have been 
 trying to think out the matter of making my Will in 
 philosophical terms. The difficulties it presents may 
 
 244
 
 MISS WOLFSTONE AN ADVENTURESS 
 
 recall to you the discussions we had in the old days 
 when we studied Moral Science together at Trinity. 
 What precisely is the philosophical significance o£ 
 making one^s Will ? I take it that a man's Will 
 should be the affirmation of his personality after he 
 is dead. But how can a man continue to affirm his 
 personality when he is not there to conduct the 
 operation, and when he is no longer conscious of what 
 he is doing? Unfortunately the philosophers give us 
 no helpj what they have to say refers to the wills 
 of living men J not a word about the wills of dead 
 ones. One may read all that has been written on 
 the Will by the greatest thinkers of ancient and 
 modern times without receiving one hint or plain 
 word of direction as to how a Will should be made. 
 Most of these thinkers appear to have been poor, or 
 relatively so. Had they been millionaires, I venture 
 to think that their views would have been different j 
 at least they would not have overlooked the problem 
 I have now to solve. Nevertheless, my principles 
 require me to make a Good Will, in the sense in 
 which Kant uses the term. You will understand 
 the governing idea on which I desire you to act, when 
 I say that my intention is to devote the whole of my 
 disposable property to financing the Moral Ideal." 
 
 "How the devil that is to be done God only 
 knows," said Polycarp, as he replaced the letter in 
 the bag. 
 
 But the letter was now ancient history, and worse 
 had happened since. There was the endowment of 
 the nurse, an act out of all proportion} and, if rumour 
 spoke true, there was another woman hovering on 
 the horizon. Would it not be better, Mr. Poly- 
 
 245
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 carp asked himself, to wash his hands of the whole 
 business? Perhaps j but millionaire clients were not 
 to be picked up every day, and old friendship 
 counted for something. At least he might protect 
 Hooker from the wolves and the sharks, of whom 
 many were sure to be on the prowl. 
 
 A few hours later the lawyer and the doctor who 
 had accompanied Mr. Hooker to the cemetery were 
 dining together in the room where the latter had 
 eaten his melancholy breakfast, Mr. Hooker having 
 submitted to the order that he was to see no one else 
 that day. When the cloth was removed Polycarp 
 said: 
 
 "You probably know what has brought me here, 
 doctor. It's a most difficult and perplexing proposi- 
 tion. To begin with, I doubt if Mr. Hooker is 
 mentally in a fit condition to make his Will." 
 
 "To be candid," said the doctor, "the case is be- 
 yond the reach of my practice." 
 
 "Same here!" said the lawyer, remembering the 
 letter he had read in the train. 
 
 "On general grounds," the doctor continued, "I 
 should say without hesitation that Hooker is the 
 victim of delusions. At the same time there is 
 reason to think that the delusions saved his life. It 
 was touch-and-go for a long time until something 
 happened, the nature of which I have not been able 
 to find out. The nurse lied about it. But various 
 indications have led me to think that a sudden change 
 occurred in his brain." 
 
 "Pathological?" 
 
 "Only a specialist could tell you that. Speaking at 
 
 246
 
 MISS WOLFSTONE AN ADVENTURESS 
 
 a venture I should say yes. His manner and con- 
 versation at the funeral were most extraordinary. 
 He seemed utterly oblivious of what was going on, 
 which was fortunate in the circumstances, and poured 
 out a lot of incomprehensible stuff about the un- 
 reality of it all." 
 
 And the doctor repeated what he could remember, 
 which was not very much, of Hooker's metaphysical 
 remarks in the cemetery. 
 
 "Highly significant," said Polycarp. "But it's a 
 pity you cannot speak more definitely. A distinct 
 medical opinion one way or the other would be of 
 the greatest value to me at the present moment." 
 
 Here the doctor meditated for a few moments. 
 Finally he decided to say nothing about the snubbing 
 he had received from the millionaire. 
 
 "You should call in a specialist," he said. 
 
 "That is precisely what I wish to do. The diffi- 
 culty is to manage Hooker. A suggestion from us 
 that his mind is unhinged might unhinge it still 
 further." 
 
 "I doubt it," said the doctor. "He knows what 
 we think. In fact, he said as much this morning. I 
 believe he would assent at once to the specialist." 
 
 "Whom do you recommend?" 
 
 "Timbertree, unquestionably." 
 
 "I know him," said the lawyer. 
 
 '^Do you?" said the doctor, pouring out his fourth 
 glass of port. "Then you know the biggest black- 
 guard and the biggest genius in the medical pro- 
 fession." 
 
 The conversation now branched off to the merits 
 and demerits of Sir William Timbertree, Baronet. 
 
 247
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 It was garnished with lurid and amazing stories, and 
 was going from bad to worse when a servant entered 
 the room. 
 
 "Mr. Hooker wishes to see the doctor," he said. 
 
 The doctor left the room. Returning after ten 
 minutes he resumed his seat at the table, drank an- 
 other glass of port and said: 
 
 "That's all right. There's telepathy in this house, 
 Mr. Polycarpj the old boy has anticipated us. In- 
 sists on being certified by a specialist before he makes 
 his Will. Timbertree is to be summoned to-morrow 
 morning. What do you make of that?" 
 
 "Bad sign. Shows that he's doubtful about him- 
 self. When a man doesn't know whether he's drunk 
 or sober, he's always drunk." 
 
 "Then pass the decanter. Thanks. But I say, 
 Mr. Polycarp, what are your ideas on telepathy?" 
 
 "None at all. I leave it to the fools and to the 
 women." 
 
 "You shouldn't. You lawyers ought to cross- 
 examine it. I'm not a psychic myself — not a bit 
 of it. But I'll tell you a curious thing. Of course 
 my practice takes me into a lot of houses. And I 
 never enter a house without feeling on the instant 
 that it is either a bad place or a good one. If it's bad 
 there's sure to be trouble. If it's good I generally 
 pull the patient through." 
 
 "Which sort is the house we are in at the present 
 moment?" 
 
 "Bad — damned bad — except for this port. But 
 where do you imagine Hooker has been this after- 
 noon?" 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 248
 
 MISS WOLFSTONE AN ADVENTURESS 
 
 "At Rumbelow's." 
 
 "Phew! That's the very mischief!" 
 
 "Didn't I say this was a bad house? Full of 
 demons, I can smell 'em. But wait till you've seen 
 My Lady. She's a sorceress." 
 
 "I have been dreading this all along," said Poly- 
 carp, whose potations had been more moderate than 
 those of his companion. "The only hope now is that 
 Timbertree will certify him as insane." 
 
 "Telepathy again!" cried the doctor. "I was 
 thinking the same thing. I say, Mr. Polycarp, you 
 ought to study telepathy." 
 
 "Change the subject." 
 
 "All right! Buried Treasure — let's talk about 
 that. I'll tell you a story. One day when Hooker 
 was ill they showed me into the library. There was 
 a heap of letters on a table j I read 'em — mean thing, 
 but I did it. They came from a crowd of imbeciles 
 in the Ethical Society advising Hooker what to do 
 with his money — and there was one from a school- 
 boy. It split me in two! He advised Hooker to 
 bury his money on a desert island and have it hunted 
 for by pirates. What do you think of that?" 
 
 "I think," said Mr. Polycarp, "that Hooker will 
 probably end by following the schoolboy's advice. 
 But bedtime, doctor! We shall have a busy day to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "All right J but finish the bottle first. And there 
 was another letter from Miss Wolfstone." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 "Miss Wolfstone. Able woman. And a damn 
 cunning letter. She's after the millions. And she's 
 in with the Rumbelows. Saved his life when the 
 
 249
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 Germans torpedoed 'em. The devils! Swims like 
 a fish." 
 
 "Tell me more about this to-morrow morning. 
 Good-night." 
 
 "Good-night, Mr. Polycarp. Good-night, sir. 
 I'm glad you are going to sleep in this house. Bad 
 place. I'm not a believer in ghosts, but I don't 
 like 'em — no, I don't like 'em! And look here, Mr. 
 Polycarp, I'll give you a tip — a damn good tip! If 
 you've any spare cash at the bank, put it on Joy 
 Lady. Hooker's backing her for twenty thousand." 
 
 Sir William Timbertree arrived next day. A 
 man not more than fifty, of the middle height, 
 broadly and coarsely built, except for his hands, and 
 with a fresh complexion eloquent of Sunday golf. 
 The son of a bricklayer, he had worked his way to 
 the head of his profession with the momentum of 
 a steam roller, winning all the medical and surgical 
 degrees the University of London has to offer, and 
 astonishing the experts with the ruthless daring of 
 his surgical feats. He had been decorated by half 
 the scientific academies of Europe, and his consult- 
 ing room was a museum of orders and gold medals, 
 which he loved to display. In the hall of his house 
 in Harley Street there hung an immense portrait of 
 him by a leading painter, in which he was represented 
 as a jolly demon in the act of delivering a lecture, 
 with a human brain on a table beside him. His 
 presence was compact of vigour, rapidity and anima- 
 tion; his address blunt, decisive and overwhelm- 
 ing. He spoke with a Cockney accent, dropped his 
 "h's," "and there were other traces of his lowly origin 
 
 250
 
 MISS WOLFSTONE AN ADVENTURESS 
 
 which he was at no pains to disguise. Most of his 
 adjectives were prefixed by "damned" or, prefer- 
 ably, by another expletive which has not yet found 
 its way into polite literature. People said that he 
 combined the instincts of a street Arab, the manners 
 of an ostler and the science of a master mind. In 
 the medical profession he was familiarly known as 
 "Bill." 
 
 After hearing the main features of the case from 
 the family doctor, and a few words from Polycarp 
 on the legal side. Sir William lost no time in getting 
 to business. For two hours he was closeted with Mr. 
 Hooker. 
 
 On returning to the library, where the lawyer was 
 smoking a cigar, he said: 
 
 "YouVe in a 'ole, Polycarp. He's super-sane." 
 
 "Which means, I suppose, that he's insane" said 
 Polycarp. 
 
 "Yes, and no. Sanity's a mean between two ex- 
 tremes — idiocy at one end, genius at the other. But 
 you can't treat 'em by the same methods. He's told 
 me the whole story. The queerest old fandingo you 
 ever heard. His head's chock full of Plato and 
 Christianity." 
 
 "I never heard him mention either," said Poly- 
 carp. 
 
 "P'raps not J but that's the name of his disease." 
 
 "A religious delusion, then?" 
 
 " 'Alf-and-'alf . The devil's been gettin' at him 
 from the other side." 
 
 "What devil?" 
 
 "A woman, of course j or rather, women. But 
 no tomfoolery. A thought-out thing. He believes 
 
 251
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 that his money is safest in the hands of a woman, 
 and means to leave it all to that play- writing school ^ 
 mistress in Smokeover." 
 
 "What can be done?" 
 
 "Nothing, but let him have his way. Unless you 
 give him his head he'll buck you out of the saddle. 
 Repression would be fatal j he would be a raving 
 lunatic to-morrow morning. For the rest, see Miss 
 Wolfstone and square things with her as best you 
 can. Use your lawyer's wits." 
 
 Before Polycarp could interfere Sir William had 
 rung the bell, and the butler entering: 
 
 "Send the car immediately to fetch Miss Wolf- 
 stone," he saidj "and say that Mr. Polycarp and 
 Sir William Timbertree want to see her." 
 
 "Isn't that unwise?" said Polycarp, when the man 
 had gone. "The servants will talk." 
 
 "They're talking already. I've interviewed most 
 of them — and a precious set of rascals they are. 
 Unless you can 'andle Miss Wolfstone, you're 
 done!" 
 
 "I wish you had left me to summon Miss Wolf- 
 stone at the proper time. But it's too late now. Are 
 you prepared to certify that Hooker is of ^sound 
 mind'?" 
 
 "What else? Check him, and you drive him mad. 
 I wouldn't do it for a million. My duty is to the 
 patient, and I'm not going to risk him to make busi- 
 ness for a lot of — lawyers. Go to his roomj make 
 his Will exactly as he wishes; don't thwart him in 
 anything. Otherwise you take the consequences and 
 — you won't like them. Look 'ere, Polycarp. 
 'Ooker's on the brink of an explosion — no kid about 
 
 252
 
 MISS WOLFSTONE AN ADVENTURESS 
 
 that! Miss Wolf stone's the safety valve. You 
 want to sit on it. You'll be blown up!" 
 
 "The worst that could happen," said Polycarp, 
 "is that his fortune would go to an Ethical Society — 
 that is, assuming he leaves his old Will unrevoked." 
 
 "You're not reckoning with me!" said Timber- 
 tree. "You don't seem to be aware that I'm master 
 of the situation. Make his Will as I tell you, and 
 I attest it before leaving the house. Swerve a hair's- 
 breadth from my orders and I'm a witness on the 
 other side." 
 
 "What other side?" 
 
 "The other side that I shall make." 
 
 "Do you know Miss Wolf stone, then?" 
 
 "Bah ! " cried Timbertree. "What do I care about 
 Miss Wolf stone or Miss Anybody-else? Let him 
 leave his money where he will. What's that to me? 
 I'm here to save 'Ooker — and he's a great old boy. 
 Thwart him, and you bring on a crisis. Humour 
 him, and he'll come to his senses in six months. Then 
 you can make a new start." 
 
 "Suppose he dies in the meantime?" 
 
 "Barring accidents, he won't And what if he 
 does? He's super-sane, I tell you. Knows what he's 
 doing better than the tom-f ools that make their wills 
 in your office. I tell you what, Polycarp, the 
 world's ruled more than it knows by the wills of 
 dead men. And damned bad wills most of them 
 
 are." 
 
 "Except from a lawyer's point of view," said 
 Polycarp. 
 
 "Of course," said Timbertree. "But who knows 
 better than you what tosh it all is? A man tryin' 
 
 253
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 to keep his hold on his money after he's dead! Can't 
 be done! Who but a fool would think it could?" 
 
 Mr. Polycarp smiled. 
 
 "Of course," Sir William continued, "if you didn't 
 like 'Ooker's games you should have headed him 
 off when he began. Why didn't you put the stopper 
 on when he made his first Will? What the hell 
 can an Ethical Society do with two millions — what 
 but quarrel among 'emselves? You should have 
 frightened him. Why didn't you call me in then? 
 In two minutes I could have made him quiet as a 
 lamb." 
 
 "I doubt if you could," said Polycarp. "He's as 
 obstinate as a mule. An ordinary Christian, Timber- 
 tree, one can manage, but a millionaire with a con- 
 science is the very devil." 
 
 "We could have called it 'religious delusion,' " 
 said Timbertree. "It's the same with conscience as 
 with everything else. Too much, and you're mad. 
 Too little, and you're a beast. But talking of re- 
 ligious delusions reminds me of a case I was treating 
 last week. An able man, physicist and all that. Well, 
 thirty years ago he said a prayer, and made up his 
 mind never to say another. It all turned on that. 
 The prayer was — this is how he put it to me — *0 
 Lord, I expect you to look after all my interests for 
 the rest of my life, and believing that you're a gentle- 
 man and that you won't forget, I'm never going to 
 worry you again.' Well, he lost his three sons in 
 the war, same as 'Ooker, and went clean off his 
 chump. He's written a book called The Great For- 
 gettery proving that God has no memory, and that 
 unless you keep on reminding Him of what you 
 
 254
 
 MISS WOLFSTONE AN ADVENTURESS 
 
 want Him to do for you, He forgets it all and does 
 nothing. He thinks he committed a crime when he 
 made up his mind not to worry God — sin against 
 the Holy Ghost and all that, and he's written this 
 book to square himself on the Judgment Day. Scrip- 
 ture texts by the bucketful! The first thing he 
 said to me was, *Pray without ceasing — pray with- 
 out ceasingy Sir William.' And argument!. My 
 snakes, he'd argue the head oflF the Lord Chief Jus- 
 tice." 
 
 "Do you never pray yourself?" asked Mr. Poly- 
 carp. 
 
 "You know I do! Everybody knows I do! When 
 Pm going to perform an operation. Only then. 
 Would you like to hear how it started, Polycarp? 
 All right. Well, my old mother — she used to take 
 in washin' — I tell you she was proud of tney my 
 boy! Of course I made the old lady comfortable 
 when the shekels began to come in. Bought her a 
 nice little 'ouse on Blackheath, with a good servant 
 to wait on her, and a gramophone to recite poetry j 
 had it specially made for her, records and all; paid 
 first rate actors to spout the stuff into the machine — 
 Pll tell you about that in a minute. Well, every 
 Sunday afternoon I used to spend at Blackheath 
 with miy old mother. And what do you think we 
 talked about? My operations! She knew every 
 one of 'em by heart! And could remember 'em 
 years afterwards. My hat! what a woman doctor 
 she'd have made! And the poetry! Fond of it — 
 I should just think she was — she could reel it off by 
 the yard! Tip-top stuff, too, Shakespeare and 
 Browning and all that! Knew the difference between 
 
 255
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 the real thing and the confectionery — ^by God! 
 What do you think of that^ my hearty, for an old 
 washerwoman? Nobody would believe it — but then, 
 there's lots of things in this world that nobody would 
 believe, as you know well, Johnnie Polycarp. Oh, 
 she was a great woman, was my mother, and be 
 damned to her good old soul! Used to say that 
 my operations were poems — reminded her of Wil- 
 liam Blake, 'Tiger, tiger, burning bright' — you know 
 it?" 
 
 "Yes, I know it," said Mr. Polycarp. "But what 
 has all this to do with your prayers?" 
 
 "Pm coming to that. What are you in such a 
 hurry for? Pm not gassin'. Pm getting the in- 
 struments ready. Well, first Pd tell the old gal 
 about my operations j then she'd recite her poetry, 
 and after that we had a bit of religion. And every 
 time she kissed me good-bye on Sunday afternoon 
 she said the same thing. 'Bill,' she said, 'Bill, my 
 treasure, never touch the knife without first going 
 down on your knees.' I promised her I would — 
 and Pve kept my word — and mean to! Mark that, 
 you sceptical old ignoramus! And if you want my 
 candid opinion, Pll give it you! I owe my success 
 more to what my old mother taught me than to 
 anything else in this world — more than to anything 
 else, I tell you!" 
 
 Several times Sir William repeated the words 
 "more than to anything else." And Mr. Polycarp 
 observed that the prominent eyes of the great alienist 
 had become moist. 
 
 "We live in a queer world," he said. 
 
 "We do," said Sir William, "and here's Miss 
 
 256
 
 MISS WOLFSTONE AN ADVENTURESS 
 
 Wolfstone to make it queerer still. I hear the car 
 in the drive." 
 
 A minute later Miss Wolfstone entered the room. 
 
 The doctor and the lawyer, standing on either side 
 of the fireplace, turned swift glances of inquiry 
 upon the newcomer, which she steadily returned. It 
 was a pity that a Recorder of Emotional Disturb- 
 ance was not in the room. The needle would have 
 trembled twice j first, rather violently, for Sir Wil- 
 liam Timbertreej then more faintly, for Mr. Poly- 
 carp. And each was instantly aware that he had 
 met his match — and perhaps something more. 
 "Candour," thought Mr. Polycarp, "is a more for- 
 midable antagonist than cunning. And there 
 it is." 
 
 Not taking the chair that was offered her, but 
 placing one for herself at the end of the table, she 
 sat down, her arms resting on the table and hands 
 clasped in front. The men also drew up chairs, and 
 a glance from Timbertree signalled to Polycarp that 
 it was for him to begin. 
 
 "Miss Wolfstone," he began, "the circumstances 
 necessitating this interview, which we thank you for 
 granting so promptly, are these. Mr. Hooker is in 
 danger of a mental breakdown. In spite of his un- 
 fitness for so doing, he is determined to make a new 
 Will; and Sir William has decided that any attempt 
 to thwart him in this matter will be followed by the 
 gravest consequences. In that event his wealth, 
 which you know is enormous, will be disposed of 
 under his old Will and pass to the Society for Ethi- 
 cal Culture. Do you know any of his motives for 
 wishing to alter this bequest?" 
 
 257
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 "I can imagine them," she answered j "but why 
 do you ask me?" 
 
 "Because under the new Will he proposes to 
 make you will become his heiress." 
 
 The two men looked to see the effect of this 
 bombshell. She did not move, and except for a 
 bright smile there was no change in her expression. 
 
 "I expected this," she said, "or something like itj 
 I am not unprepared. But the matter is of little im- 
 portance — I mean, to me personally. A Will made 
 under these conditions is invalid, and I do not see how 
 you, Mr. Polycarp, can be a party to making it." 
 
 "You state the difficulty with precision," said Poly- 
 carp. "But the alternative to making this Will is 
 that Mr. Hooker's mind will give way." 
 
 "I will do anything to prevent that," she said 
 quietly J "he is one of my dearest friends." 
 
 "In that case we must ask you to help us, and 
 trust to your discretion in carrying through a some- 
 what anomalous transaction." 
 
 "That will interest me," she replied, "and I shall 
 enjoy being trusted." 
 
 "But may I ask why you expected Mr. Hooker to 
 do this?" 
 
 "He allowed me, along with some others, to ad- 
 vise him about the disposal of his money j and in- 
 tending quite otherwise, I wrote him a letter which 
 I now see would have precisely this effect on a man 
 of his temper and ideals, especially if he were forced, 
 to make a sudden decision. And I have other reasons, 
 which may be summed up by saying that between 
 him and me there is a strong link of personal sym- 
 pathy." 
 
 258
 
 MISS WOLFSTONE AN ADVENTURESS 
 
 "Do you regret writing the letter?" 
 
 "Not in the least." 
 
 "I wish you would show us your mind more 
 plainly," said Sir William, speaking with a more 
 pronounced Cockney accent than usual. " 'Ow does 
 this news affect you in general?" 
 
 "Much as I should be affected by a proposal of 
 marriage from Giant Despair," was the quick re- 
 sponse. At which both men laughed, Sir William 
 immoderately. 
 
 "I suppose. Miss Wolfstone, you would refuse the 
 Giant," said Polycarp. "Are you going to refuse 
 the millions?" 
 
 "I am not going to run away. What do you ad- 
 vise, Sir William?" she asked. 
 
 "The fact is," said Sir William in a confidential 
 tone, "the fact is, we are between the devil and the 
 deep sea." 
 
 "The deep sea for me," said Miss Wolfstone in 
 the same quiet tone. "I can swim." 
 
 "You look as though you could," replied Sir Wil- 
 liam in his loud voice. "You look as though you 
 could swim the channel! But to come to the point. 
 Miss Wolfstone, Mr. 'Ooker wants to see you. He'll 
 'ave to see you. Repression at this stage would be 
 fatal. No kid about it at all! And, what's more, 
 you'll 'ave to fall in with his wishes to the letter. 
 There's no choice between that and a crisis. Don't 
 argue with him. Don't say you'd rather not. Don't 
 try the Giant Despair stunt. Give in all round. Say 
 you're pleased. That clears the way for the next 
 few years, and then you and he can come to what 
 arrangement you like. If he dies in the meantime, 
 
 259
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 which is not likely, then it^s a lawyer's job — not my 
 affair} you and Mr. Polycarp and several more will 
 all be swimmin' in the deep sea together j and some 
 of you will get drowned. But my duty is to Mr. 
 'Ooker." 
 
 "Do you agree to this, Mr. Polycarp?" asked 
 Miss Wolfstone. 
 
 "I do. At the same time I must point out that 
 it places you in a difficult position." 
 
 "You mean," she replied, "that I shall be com- 
 promised — that nobody will ever believe that I had 
 any other motive than to obtain possession of Mr. 
 Hooker's wealth, and that people will suspect me 
 of employing the means — well, the means that 
 women always employ — to obtain my end?" 
 
 "Precisely." 
 
 "And that litigation may follow." 
 
 "Not if I can avoid it." 
 
 "And that if it does you yourself will be com- 
 promised along with me." 
 
 "Possibly." 
 
 "And you. Sir William?" 
 
 "Write me off," said Timbertree. "I do my duty 
 to the patient, and don't care a damn — excuse me- 
 what happens afterwards. My orders are given. 
 And the sooner they are carried out the better." 
 
 "Very well, then," said Miss Wolfstone. "I con- 
 sent on one condition. It is that the Will — the 
 document — be placed in my keeping." 
 
 The lawyer looked at the doctor. 
 
 "It's up to you to answer that," said Timbertree. 
 "Not my job." 
 
 "Miss Wolfstone," said Polycarp, "the whole 
 
 260
 
 MISS WOLFSTONE AN ADVENTURESS 
 
 situation is in your hands. I raise no objection to 
 your keeping the Will, provided Mr. Hooker gives 
 his consent." 
 
 "That finishes it," said Timbertree. "Miss Wolf- 
 stone, I shall 'ave the pleasure of showin' you to Mr. 
 'Ooker's room." 
 
 "Wait a moment," said Polycarp. "I have a ques- 
 tion to»ask. Miss Wolf stone, which you will answer 
 or not at your discretion. But under the circum- 
 stances I think you will find it a right and proper 
 question for me to ask. Assuming you become pos- 
 sessed of this immense fortune, have you any plan, 
 any formed idea, as to what you would do with it?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered. "But I was about to speak 
 of something else. I shall not see Mr. Hooker, 
 either alone or otherwise. Perhaps you will be 
 kind enough to tell him what I have said. I leave 
 the rest entirely in your hands." 
 
 Sir William Timbertree's red face turned crimson. 
 Banging his fist on the table he cried out: 
 
 "I say you must see him, and you shall!" 
 
 "At that point the deciding voice is mine," she 
 answered. "I am sorry to disobey you. Sir Wil- 
 liam, but at this moment I am not acting under your 
 orders." 
 
 And without the least trace of ill humour or 
 affected triumph she made her adieux and passed 
 out of the room. 
 
 The steam-roller, brought to a sudden standstill, 
 looked a derelict, and it was some time before it 
 showed any sign of renewed activity. 
 
 "Well," it snorted at last, "that's a corker and no 
 mistake!" 
 
 261
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 "She's not a conspirator," said Polycarp, who 
 seemed to have some difficulty in restraining his 
 mirth. 
 
 "She's a thoroughbred!" said the steam-roller. 
 
 At which Mr. Polycarp could restrain himself no 
 longer. When it was over he said: 
 
 "She took you down, Timbertree. But remember 
 it was your doing and not mine that she was sent 
 for." 
 
 "She did. And I like her all the better for It. 
 Look 'ere, Polycarp. If trouble comes of this — and 
 when it does, it will be your turn to look a fool — 
 you'll find me on the same side with that woman." 
 
 "All right J I shall not forget it. But give me an 
 opinion. Is the woman an adventuress?" 
 
 "Yes: and one of the right sort, too! 'Ooker 
 knows what he's doin'. Didn't I tell you so? What 
 better thing could he have done? Answer me that, 
 Mr. Lawyer. You mark my word — if she gets his 
 money she'll set things 'umming." 
 
 "I'm inclined to agree," said Polycarp. "At all 
 events one great danger has been averted." 
 
 262
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 
 And Embarks Forthwith on a Dangerous Adventure 
 
 npWO days afterwards Miss Wolf stone was in 
 ■^ her study, still struggling with the last scenes 
 of her Christmas Play, and with less hope than ever 
 of moulding them to her liking; for, somehow, the 
 driving power was gone. She was interrupted by a 
 gentle tap on the door, and bidding the visitor enter 
 Billie Smith appeared on the threshold. 
 
 "Oh, Miss Wolfstone," he cried, "we couldn't play 
 that game!" 
 
 "What game, Billie, and who couldn't play it?" 
 
 "The medicine-game. Every half-holiday Ted 
 and I and five other boys from our school play our 
 plans in Mr. Hooker's big field — not the one with 
 the bull in it, but that other one where the wood is; 
 you know! Father says that unless you can play 
 your plans they are not good ones. The pirates 
 played well, but the medicine wouldn't play at all." 
 
 "Ah! I thought you would get into difficulties 
 with that medicine. What was the trouble?" 
 
 "We couldn't keep the medicine locked tip. The 
 bad people got it every time and gave it to the good 
 ones. Ted and I played the bad ones." 
 
 "Do you know, Billie, I saw Mr. Rumbelow the 
 other day, and told him that you meant to give him 
 a dose!" 
 
 263
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 "Oh, we've altered that," cried Billie. "We are 
 going to have Mr. Rumbelow on the other side. 
 He's good." 
 
 "How have you found that out?" 
 
 "Because you wouldn't have saved his life if he 
 had been bad. You'd have saved somebody else 
 and let him drown. Besides, we heard Father say 
 he isn't as bad as he's painted. But what did Mr. 
 Rumbelow say?" 
 
 "He said he thought you were a rather promising 
 boy, and that he'd like to play the medicine-game 
 with you. And he said there was a man in his office 
 who had a secret for keeping all kinds of medicine 
 locked up where bad people couldn't get at them." 
 
 "Do you think he'd tell it to us?" 
 
 "No, I don't. It's a very great secret. If I were 
 you I should try another game." 
 
 "Can you think of one?" 
 
 Miss Wolfstone reflected for a few moments. 
 
 "Well, Billie, what do you say to the League of 
 Nations? You can get your father to tell you all 
 about it. Let me see — there are seven of you. Yes, 
 just right. Each of you can be one of the Great 
 Powers." 
 
 "Splendid!" said Billie. "I'll be England and 
 Ted shall be France. But who's to be Germany?" 
 
 "You will have to draw lots for that." 
 
 "The person that gets Germany will be in a 
 beastly temper, and won't play fair," said Billie. 
 
 "That will only make it more life-like. And, 
 mark my word, Billie, unless you get 'Germany' 
 out of his beastly temper he will win the game." 
 
 "Then I'll have to be Germany myself," said 
 
 264
 
 A DANGEROUS ADVENTURE 
 
 Blllie. "The other fellows would never under- 
 stand that." 
 
 "Good — and come and tell me all about it after- 
 wards. But get along now. I'm very busy." 
 
 As Billie was going Miss Wolfstone called after 
 him: 
 
 "There's one thing I forgot to say, dear. Mind 
 you don't play the League of Nations in the field 
 where the bull is!" 
 
 "Oh, we'll not do that! We played 'the Union 
 of the Churches' in that field, and the bull chased 
 us all over the place." 
 
 "Who put it into your heads to play 'the Union 
 of the Churches'?" 
 
 "There was a man gave a lecture on it at our 
 school." 
 
 When he was gone Miss Wolfstone, by way of 
 restoring the interrupted sequence of thought and 
 of calming her merriment, found it necessary to 
 light a cigarette. But the effect of the nicotine was 
 not exactly what she desired. As the toxin worked, 
 her mind, instead of recovering the lost thread, 
 broke out into a new direction altogether. She 
 began by wondering how the boys would play the 
 game she had suggested, and from that she passed 
 to asking how she would play it herself. For a 
 moment her thought centred on the bull. She knew 
 well enough what she had meant by her warning to 
 Billie. But then the thought was in the background 
 of her mind and only clear enough to prompt a jestj 
 now it rushed into the foreground and became full 
 of interest and significance, and began to multiply 
 itself into a whole family of thoughts. Little by 
 
 265
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 little there rose before her the vague outlines of a 
 dramatic situation, with the world for a stage and 
 the nations for actors, and behind them all an un- 
 tamed and brutal force with which in the last resort 
 they must all do battle together — the bull. 
 
 And the war! With millions of others she had 
 been swept into the conflict, had seen its horrors on 
 their darkest side, had felt in her body the shock of 
 its catastrophes. There was one view of it that had 
 never left her, that seemed to sum up all that she 
 had read in books or experienced in her own per- 
 son — the impression of a vast inundation of forces 
 which outmatched human powers of control and 
 made a mock of all who pretended to control them, 
 out of hand from first to last, submitting here or 
 there to the directing touch of exceptionally brave 
 or able men, but, as a whole, undirected by wit or 
 will, forcing its own way forward, imposing con- 
 fusion on its would-be masters, and ending at last in 
 an issue which none had foreseen and none could 
 claim the credit for having brought about. 
 
 Then thought, still keeping the same structure, 
 contracted its area. This problem of the mil- 
 lionaire's, in which her own life was becoming en- 
 tangled, what was it but the characteristic problem 
 of a well-meaning civilization suddenly endowed 
 with enormous wealth whicH it had neither the 
 moral nor the intellectual powers to handle aright? 
 All the personifications were present. Herself to 
 begin with, and the men and women with whom 
 catastrophes had brought her into contact: Hooker, 
 Rumbelow, My Lady, Polycarp, Timbertree, the 
 members of the Ethical Society, were they not all 
 
 266
 
 A DANGEROUS ADVENTURE 
 
 living embodiments of the elemental powers which 
 make history through their impact upon one 
 another? She had no need to go far for materials. 
 They were all under her hand. But could she make 
 use of them? She remembered the saying of the 
 critic that no woman had ever been a great drama- 
 tist. But such generalizations have different effects 
 on different minds. To say that no woman has ever 
 done this or that may discourage the timid, but to a 
 woman of high mettle it is an incentive to break the 
 rule by doing for the first time what has never been 
 done before. So it acted on Margaret Wolfstone. 
 Within an hour of Billie's departure a new vision 
 of her life's work had formed itself in the high 
 heavens, and her will was engaged to attempt it — 
 at what risk of disastrous failure she well knew. 
 
 And what of the work that was already hers, the 
 work of education, which she had taken up not as a 
 profession, but as a mission, and found so delightful, 
 so full of romance and unexplored possibilities, so 
 rich in human relationships, so amenable to the 
 Great Principle of Hooker and to the Great Motto 
 of Rumbelow? Would she be renouncing it? By 
 no means. Might not the method which had raised 
 the teaching of the Smokeover High School for 
 Girls to a higher level of efficiency than that of any 
 similar school in the kingdom be extended to a wider 
 field and developed into an instrument of education 
 for the whole community? Might not the drama 
 be the appointed means for revealing to the public 
 mind the inner significance of the appalling crisis 
 through which the world had just passed, and which 
 the economists and the moralists and the political 
 
 267
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 philosophers and the Ethical Societies and the 
 Churches, with their effete and ineffective methods, 
 had wholly failed to disentangle and express. 
 
 It was a daring, extravagant dream, and none but 
 an adventuress would have entertained it. But 
 entertain it she did. Here was a possible use for Mr. 
 Hooker's millions, whether they remained his or 
 whether they became hers. Most assuredly she 
 would tell him about it forthwith. And she would 
 tell Rumbelow. She would engage the interest of 
 both of them to her scheme — a new application for 
 the Great Principle and the Great Motto! The last 
 especially came back to her mind, and she repeated 
 it aloud several times. She remembered the first 
 occasion she had heard it from the lips of the book- 
 maker. She was supporting him in the water, and 
 with infinite difficulty had drawn a life-belt over 
 his head and fixed it under his arms, when Rum- 
 below, his teeth chattering with the cold, managed 
 to articulate before they drew him on board, "Ideal 
 aims, businesslike methods and sportsmanlike prin- 
 ciples." Well, she was in deep waters again, and 
 the Motto gave her comfort as she measured her- 
 self against her task. 
 
 When the Christmas Play was produced in due 
 course by the girls of the High School it had a cold 
 reception from the critics. The first two acts, they 
 said, were up to the level of previous plays and 
 were in Miss Wolfstone's usual style, full of high 
 spirits, fun and idealism. But in the last act there 
 was an unaccountable falling off, as though the 
 writer were unequal to the crisis her imagination had 
 
 268
 
 A DANGEROUS ADVENTURE 
 
 developed. The dialogue, which had been easy and 
 natural up to that point, seemed to halt, the action 
 became uncertain, the characters lost their distinc- 
 tiveness, the conclusion was hurried and unconvinc- 
 ing. Miss Wolfstone acknowledged the truth of 
 these criticisms. "I knew," she said, "that I was 
 out for a duck! But the girls were waiting to re- 
 hearse and the thing had to go on. I shall do better 
 next time." 
 
 Now there was in the city of Smokeover a certain 
 newspaper called The Tracker^ which appeared every 
 week. It subsisted in large measure on scraps of 
 carrion picked up in the servants' halls of the neigh- 
 bourhood, and made a handsome living for its owners 
 by appealing to the meanest recesses of human na- 
 ture. In the art of spitting venom while pretending 
 to do something else it had developed an ingenuity 
 that would have done credit to the Serpent of Eden 
 after it had been turned into a toad. In actions for 
 libel The Tracker rejoiced j they were excellent ad- 
 vertisements and increased the circulation far out 
 of proportion to the damages the proprietors had to 
 pay. There were thousands of men and women and 
 boys and girls in Smokeover who may be said to 
 have been brought up on The Tracker; they read it 
 through from cover to cover every week, and they 
 real little else. So much at least they owed to the 
 benevolent system under which they had been taught 
 to read at the public expense. 
 
 To Miss Wolfstone and her Christmas Play The 
 Tracker devoted a whole column of innuendo, di- 
 viding it up into paragraphs with three asterisks 
 at the end of each, and challenging an action for libel 
 
 269
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 in every one. The Tracker wanted to know what 
 truth there was in the rumour that of late she had 
 become a frequent visitor in the houses of "our two 
 leading millionaires." It was known of course that 
 she had saved the life of one of them, an act of gal- 
 lantry which might form the beginning of a sensa- 
 tional novel. But the case of the other was not so 
 clear, unless it might be assumed that Miss Wolf- 
 stone had entered his sick-room in the capacity of 
 nurse, which The Tracker understood she had 
 abandoned on accepting her present position. Now 
 that the invalid was completely recovered, and 
 happily in a position to enjoy the modest profit he 
 had made out of the war, it was to be presumed that 
 he would no longer need the professional attend- 
 ance of Miss Wolfstone. The Tracker would like 
 to know whether her attendance up to date had been 
 gratuitous or whether there had been a fee< — and if 
 so, how much? If the other millionaire would 
 prefer to have these questions addressed to him. 
 The Tracker would have no objection to make the 
 change. Perhaps one or the other of them would 
 explain to the public whether these things had any 
 connexion with the remarkable fit of absence of 
 mind in which "our gifted headmistress" appeared 
 to have written the concluding portion of her 
 Christmas Play? And a copy of the paper, with 
 the passage marked in blue pencil, was sent to every 
 member of the Council of the High School for 
 Girls. 
 
 The professional scandalmongers were joined by 
 a host of amateurs. Perhaps through the ministra- 
 tions of key-hole listeners in Mr. Hooker's domestic 
 
 270
 
 A DANGEROUS ADVENTURE 
 
 establishment, perhaps through the indiscretions of 
 the port-drinking doctor, enough spicy material was 
 soon forthcoming to provide the tongue of gossip 
 with a tempting theme. Miss Wolfstone was one 
 of those women whose fate it is to be as much hated, 
 among their own sex, by whose who know them 
 through description and report, as they are beloved 
 by those who know them through personal contact. 
 Speaking generally, the women of Smokeover were 
 none too well disposed to the headmistress} not be- 
 cause they doubted her high gifts, but because they 
 were forced to acknowledge them, a state of things 
 which is even more dangerous to a good reputa- 
 tion among women than it is among men. This was 
 the soil into which the insane root of calumny first 
 struck its fibres. There were stories about her 
 "goings-on" with the wounded officers while in 
 charge of the hospital in France — a laugh with one, 
 a jest with another, a gesture with a third, a cigarette 
 smoked with a fourth — which stories, being raked 
 together, were woven into a coherent ^vhole by 
 venomous imaginations. The fact that she had saved 
 the bookmaker's life was emphasized and added to 
 the rest; and the vilest interpretation was put upon 
 it by shrugged shoulders, pursed-up lips and averted 
 eyes. Then a rumour got abroad that she had been 
 asked to resign by the Ethical Society, and that Rum- 
 below was in some way connected with it; at which 
 Virtue pulled its longest face. And who had not 
 observed the change in her manner, her look of pre- 
 occupation as she walked the streets, the frequency 
 with which she would pass acquaintances without 
 noticing them — plain proofs of a guilty mind? On 
 
 271
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 all these grounds Miss Wolfstone's reputation was 
 open to assault, and what more delightful occupation 
 for little minds and evil tongues than to assault it? 
 Not that the purveyors of the garbage viewed their 
 own actions in this light. On the contrary, they 
 believed themselves to have "ideal aims." Heaven 
 knows they had "businesslike methods." But for 
 want of "the sportsmanlike principle" their virtue 
 became vice. 
 
 Once started the slander had to run its course. 
 It grew and multiplied and spawned by all the 
 modes of growth and reproduction known to the 
 student of low organisms, sometimes by fission like 
 a polyp, sometimes by endless extension like a tape- 
 worm. For a time Margaret Wolfstone was the 
 most talked-of woman in Smokeover. The kindest 
 thing her detractors could find to say was to call her 
 an adventuress of the most dangerous type — the 
 keyhole listeners in Mr. Hooker's house could 
 prove that! 
 
 Yet unkindness was not always safe, especially if 
 that one-armed officer happened to be within hear- 
 ing j Miss Wolfstone's friends, though few, were 
 not to be tampered with! One night there was a 
 dreadful scene in the Conservative Club, when a 
 local Member of Parliament, having spoken a little 
 too loudly, learnt from the shattering blow that 
 fell on his lying mouth that one arm can sometimes 
 strike with the strength of two. Yes, you had to 
 be careful. The one-armed officer struck, indeed, 
 for Miss Wolfstone's honour, but it may be doubted 
 if he served her cause. For when men fight about 
 a woman, the presumption generally is that she is 
 
 272
 
 A DANGEROUS ADVENTURE 
 
 no better than she ought to be. This, at all events, 
 was the interpretation which the evil minds of 
 Smokeover put upon the gallant officer's well-meant 
 intervention. 
 
 And now history quickened her slow paces, and 
 things began to move. The Tracker was instantly 
 on the scent, hopes of an action for libel running high 
 in the editor's noble breast. This gentleman, who 
 had studied the art of journalism in America, wrote 
 the article with his own hand. "Great Fight for a 
 Schoolmistress between a Member of Parliament 
 and a Lieutenant-General" — such was the fascinat- 
 ing headline. The Tracker began by reminding its 
 readers of the function it had long fulfilled as 
 guardian of the public morals of Smokeover; "nor 
 shall we shrink from doing our duty on the present 
 occasion, painful as it is to our personal feelings, 
 dangerous as it may be to our private interests." 
 Then followed a string of pompous imbecilities in 
 the style of Mr. Podsnap which meant, in form, 
 that The Tracker was actuated by the purest mo- 
 tives; in substance, that it was going to do a dirty 
 trick. After which it got to business. With a fine 
 sense of historical analogy. The Tracker pointed out 
 that this was the second Great Fight which had 
 stirred the moral indignation of the Smokeov^er 
 public within the space of a month. The first i.-ii 
 taken place on a solemn occasion in the cem(„tc-y, 
 of which, it would be remembered, The Tracker 
 had secured the earliest authentic information, with 
 the result that a clergyman, unworthy of his cloth, 
 had been dismissed from his post. The Tracker was 
 far from suggesting that the two Fights were con- 
 
 273
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 nected, though the lady who figured so prominently 
 in the second, and had a careless habit of leaving her 
 note-hooks lying about, was in all probability not 
 unacquainted with the facts of the first. Then fol- 
 lowed a description of the scene in the Conservative 
 Club, and the article wound up by proclaiming in 
 language of great dignity that the whole incident 
 was an eloquent sign of the times. It proved among 
 other things that the spirit of romance, which the 
 war had done so much to stimulate in the gentler 
 sex, was beginning to invade our system of High 
 School education, whether to the moral advantage 
 of the daughters of Smokeover their parents would 
 now be in a position to judge. 
 
 The parents were not slow in acting upon the 
 hint. A few of the most "particular" removed their 
 daughters from the High School at once. Then, 
 one by one, the less "particular" began to follow their 
 example 3 at first giving a term's notice with no rea- 
 son assigned J then notice with the reasons dimly 
 hinted J then no notice with the reasons boldly stated. 
 Matters looked serious. The Treasurer, who had 
 been in high jinks since Miss Wolf stone took com- 
 mand, began to tremble for his balance sheet; the 
 shareholders were alarmed j the Council was gravely 
 perturbed. A special meeting was summoned to 
 consider the crisis. 
 
 It has already been noted, as a characteristic of 
 Miss Wolfstone's relations with others, that her 
 friends were devoted and her enemies implacable. 
 On the present occasion devoted friends were not 
 wanting, of whom the radical lawyer of the Ethical 
 Society was the chief. The enemy presented his case 
 
 274
 
 A DANGEROUS ADVENTURE 
 
 in splashes, which, when taken singly, were lurid 
 enough, but, when pieced together, yielded no co- 
 herent or intelligible picture. The lawyer had no 
 difficulty in tearing it to shreds, and for the moment 
 the enemy seemed not only discomfited but ashamed 
 of himself. 
 
 But, alas! the moment came when the "sound 
 political sense," for which the public life of Smoke- 
 over is famous, reared its portentous head amid the 
 confusion and began to assert itself. A gentleman 
 of irreproachable life, with a marked tendency to 
 begin and end all his arguments with negative prop- 
 ositions, got upon his feet. He declared that the 
 question before them was not one of persons, but 
 one of "principles" and of "policy" — and from the 
 emphasis with which the last word was spoken one 
 might have guessed that something mean was about 
 to be born. They must not concentrate too much 
 attention on Miss Wolfstone as an individual. Per- 
 haps Miss Wolfstone was a slandered woman; for 
 his part he was not prepared to say she was not. But 
 he would not answer for the public. The meeting 
 must take a broader view. They had the interests of 
 the school to consider. They had the susceptibilities 
 of the parent to consider. They had their own re- 
 sponsibilities to the public to consider. They had 
 the moral effect on the girls to consider. The mere 
 fact that Miss Wolfstone was an object of suspicion, 
 that mud was being thrown at her, was enough to 
 condemn the "policy" of her friends. Their atti- 
 tude was, no doubt, generous, but it was not practical. 
 It was essential that the character of the headmistress 
 of a school like this should be — etc., etc. In short, 
 
 275
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 he begged to move that Miss Wolfstone's services 
 be not retained. 
 
 Professor Pawkins rose in support of the last 
 speaker. He said he had never believed in Miss 
 Wolfstone's methods of education. From the first 
 he had condemned them as flashy and unsound. He 
 was only too familiar with her play-acting methods 
 of dealing with morality j she had introduced them at 
 the Ethical Society, with disastrous results on the 
 minds of several of the members. Introduced 
 among girls, especially among adolescent girls, he- 
 had no hesitation in saying that their eifect would be 
 poisonous. He believed that Miss Wolfstone's in- 
 fluence was altogether bad. He had always pre- 
 dicted that the recent prosperity of the school would 
 collapse, and he was glad the collapse had come 
 before further mischief had been done. There was 
 another circumstance to which he desired to call 
 their attention, and he was astounded that it had not 
 been remarked upon before. The incident of her 
 saving the life of Rumbelow, a highly doubtful 
 service to humanity, had surrounded her personality 
 with a false glamour, and he was sorry to find that 
 several members had evidently been influenced by 
 it in her favour. But what were the facts? He 
 himself had made careful inquiries into the circum- 
 stances of that incident and he had been fortunate 
 enough to get the evidence of an eyewitness. The 
 ship was sinking by the starboard side, on which she 
 had been torpedoed, and on that side over thirty 
 wounded oflicers were struggling in the water. 
 Rumbelow, by some chance, had been blown into 
 the water on the other side. Miss Wolfstone had 
 
 276
 
 A DANGEROUS ADVENTURE 
 
 been left on deck. What did she do? According 
 to his informant she ran along the starboard sidej 
 coldly inspecting the crowd of drowning men as 
 though she were looking for somebody, and paying 
 not the slightest heed to their appalling cries for 
 help. Then she clambered to the other side, and 
 seeing Rumbelow, instantly dived into the sea and 
 saved him — a man who, in the judgment of all 
 right-thinking persons, was one of the greatest 
 villains of modern times. What trust could they 
 place in the moral instincts of a woman who 
 could make a selection like that? He seconded the 
 resolution. 
 
 Miss Wolf stone's friends continued to fight j they 
 fought to the last ditch, but the petty foggers were 
 too many for them. That fatal tendency of cor- 
 porate bodies, by which the best is driven down to 
 compromise with the worst until agreement is 
 reached on the vulgar, carried the day. "Policy" 
 triumphed 5 the resolution was passed. 
 
 W^hen Margaret Wolf stone learnt her fate she 
 knew, of course, that her reputation was besmirched, 
 that her career as a teacher of girls was ruined, that 
 her dismissal would set the seal of truth upon slander 
 and never be forgotten as long as she lived. To say 
 that all this caused her no pain would be far from 
 the truth. She was deeply hurt, but without indig- 
 nation, without dismay and without pity of herself 
 as a tragic personality. She belonged to that high 
 race of mortals to whom pain is a right to be em- 
 braced rather than a terror to be run away 
 from. 
 
 Far more vivid than her sense of wrong was her 
 
 277
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 consciousness of unexhausted powers. In the vision 
 of a great achievement yet to be accomplished, the 
 strife of which she was centre lost much of its im- 
 portance and some of its reality. She had a mighty 
 instrument in her hand which she was learning to 
 use, and with which she had so far only played. So 
 that, if there was one sense in which she cared, there 
 was another in which she hardly cared at all. The 
 real world for her at that moment was that in 
 which her imagination was at workj the half real 
 that where her honour was being attacked. She 
 had refused to take the step, which some of her 
 friends had urged upon her, of voluntarily resign- 
 ing. She was not the woman to take herself or her 
 fellows or the half-reality called Smokeover too 
 seriously, and her bright laugh broke out more than 
 once. 
 
 Nevertheless there were some painful scenes. 
 One occurred in the big schoolroom when she took 
 leave of the remaining girls. High School girls are 
 not given to making riots, but they came near to 
 making one that day. There was another in her 
 private room when the assistants came to bid her 
 good-bye. They were all leaving, they said. One, 
 a dark-eyed Frenchwoman, stayed behind when the 
 others were gone and passionately flung herself into 
 Miss Wolfstone's arms. Then for the first and only 
 time she broke down and the two women mingled 
 their tears. 
 
 A week later she was in Rumbelow's Castle lean- 
 ing over the terrace and looking out on a sunny land- 
 scape bounded by blue hills. My Lady was seated 
 
 278
 
 A DANGEROUS ADVENTURE 
 
 by her side, her lustrous eyes watching her com- 
 panion. 
 
 "I am wondering," said Miss Wolfstone, "why I 
 came to grief so completely in the last act of my 
 Christmas Play." 
 
 "Dearest Margaret " My Lady began. But 
 
 she said no more. The rest of the reply was a 
 smile, which flashed across her face like a message 
 from a hidden world. 
 
 Thus ended the Legend of Margaret Wolfstone. 
 
 And now the Author began to observe a certain 
 similarity in all these endings. Wondering what this 
 might meany he resolved to try the Communicator 
 with questions — a risky exferim^ent y as all clair- 
 audients know. 
 
 "What message from the hidden world y^ he 
 asked y "did My Lady^s smile convey?" 
 
 "Wait and see," said the retreating Voice. 
 
 "When shall I learn" shouted the Author — for 
 the Voice was now a great way off — "when shall I 
 learn what Mr. Hooker did with his millions?" 
 
 "To-night." 
 
 Then the cock creWy the sun came wpy and the 
 Author y keenly expectant y went his way. The next 
 night^s Entertainment answered his questions. 
 
 219
 
 PART FOUR 
 The Legend of Professor Ripplemark
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 The Emergence of Professor RIpplemark 
 
 THOUGH Mr. Hooker had been forbidden by 
 his doctor to take any part in business or public 
 life for three months, he nevertheless managed to 
 keep himself closely informed of the events which 
 ended in the dismissal of Margaret Wolfstone. So 
 deep was his concern in the issue that he did not 
 hesitate to break orders, writing urgent letters in 
 defence of the accused to the members of the Coun- 
 cil and to others. Under ordinary circumstances 
 these letters would have carried weight. But as it 
 was, his intervention, like that of the one-armed 
 officer, did Miss Wolfstone more harm than good. 
 For, just as her reputation for womanly virtue was 
 under a cloud, so was his for male judgment and 
 sound common sense. Rumour now reported him 
 under the influence of women, and under treatment 
 by a mental specialist. Moreover, his partiality for 
 Miss Wolfstone was known. In addition to all 
 which Mr. Hooker was now in high disfavour with 
 the Ethical Society, which was strongly represented 
 on the Council, and especially with Professor Paw- 
 kins, who frankly represented him as insane. For 
 these reasons it would have been better for Miss 
 Wolfstone if Mr. Hooker had said nothing. 
 
 Mr. Hooker was one of the gentlest spirits that 
 
 283
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 ever drew the breath of life. His toleration as a 
 friend, his leniency as a magistrate, were known to 
 all men. For the weakness of mortal flesh, for the 
 rebellions and escapades of the natural man, he had 
 no condemnation. When he sat upon the bench the 
 heart of the poacher leaped for joyj he would shed 
 tears, instead of passing judgment over the servant 
 girl or the munition worker charged with conceal- 
 ing a birth j and it is hardly too much to say that the 
 "drunks and disorderlies" loved him. He had a 
 horror of prisons and of the prison system, and put 
 an interpretation on the delinquencies of police- 
 court offenders that made it easier for them to sin 
 no more. But if turpitude stalked abroad or 
 hypocrisy showed its double face, a sword would 
 flash out and the wicked would tremble for his soul. 
 When such things confronted Mr. Hooker his 
 moral indignation was terrible to see. His eyes 
 gleamed lightnings, his massive brows were clouded 
 with thunderstorms, and he became as one into whose 
 hands it were a fearful thing to fall. 
 
 When the circumstances of Miss Wolfstone's dis- 
 missal were reported to him he rose up, therefore, 
 like a man of wrath, invective poured from his lips 
 and his very servants quailed in his presence. "When 
 the boss opened his letters this morning," said the 
 butler, "blest if I didn't think the Day of Judgment 
 had come full clap." Chafing under his restraints 
 nothing could prevent him using his pen. Like the 
 editor of The Tracker y but for difi^erent reasons, Mr. 
 Hooker would have welcomed an action for libel. 
 To the members of the Ethical Society who had 
 taken part in the dismissal he wrote in terms which 
 
 284
 
 PROFESSOR RIPPLEMARK EMERGES 
 
 must have suggested, even to their emancipated 
 minds, that the Day of Judgment was a reality. For 
 the first time they learnt to their immense surprise 
 of his original intention to make the Society his 
 residuary legatee j they learnt also that he regarded 
 them as men of inverted conscience, and that they 
 had forfeited both his respect and his fortune. 
 "Your action in attacking Miss Wolfstone," he wrote 
 to Professor Pawkins, "especially the construction 
 you placed on her motive for saving Rumbelow, 
 reveals a mind whose moral structure I shrink from 
 contemplating. Let the day perish in which such 
 a deed was done!" 
 
 To Miss Wolfstone he wrote: 
 
 "My dear Margaret, 
 
 "Moriturus te salutat. To-day I have re- 
 ceived from the Directors of my Firm a long letter, 
 full of tergiversation and false reasons, which mean, 
 when reduced to plain terms, that I am to be ex- 
 cluded henceforth from all active participation in 
 business on the ground that I am regarded as insane. 
 It is a new link between us. We are both outcasts j 
 you as a wicked woman, I as an imbecile. But, 
 sursum cor da! 
 
 "The circumstances of your dismissal have almost 
 turned me into a hater of my kind. I had not 
 deemed it possible that human nature could clothe 
 itself in such infamy. But I have my consolations. 
 When I think of you and of Rumbelow and of My 
 Lady I know that the ultimates are secure. Were I 
 worthy of such high company I would say, *Let us 
 
 285
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 form a League of Outcasts and front the world 
 together.' 
 
 "I have just been studying, after a lapse of thirty 
 years, the life and sayings of the founder of Chris- 
 tianity. What a splendid creation he was! How he 
 would have lashed Pawkins! And what a tragedy 
 that a spirit so exalted should find himself in a 
 world like this! They ought to have sent him to 
 another and a better planet. Do read his parable 
 of the wicked husbandmen. It is your story as well 
 as His — the story of the everlasting conspiracy of the 
 base against the noble. But nothing can break them! 
 They rise again after three days. So will you. 
 
 "One thing greatly comforts me. More and more 
 I am learning the insignificance of that end of life 
 where these vile things are done. The very people 
 who do them, the Pawkins' and the rest, are gibber- 
 ing ghosts. They are not realy Margaret, and that 
 is what we mean when we call them humbugs. Treat 
 them as phantasmal, as incapable of knowing what 
 they do, and find your real world in the great 
 achievements that are awaiting you. 
 
 "I need not bid you be afraid for nothing. But 
 remember that in whatever you attempt, whether in 
 education, as I hope, or in literature, which is nearly 
 the same thing, the whole of my resources are behind 
 you. Afiirm your personality in your own way and 
 trust me to back you. It will be the joy of my de- 
 clining years, a kindness done by you to me beyond 
 the reach of my gratitude to repay." 
 
 Not many days afterwards, as Mr. Hooker was 
 eating his solitary breakfast and reading The Times 
 
 286
 
 PROFESSOR RIPPLEMARK EMERGES 
 
 Literary Supplement at the same time, his eye was 
 caught by the following, among the "preliminary 
 notices" of books that had just appeared: 
 
 *^The Moral Will: a Treatise on Ethical Psy- 
 chology. By Maurice Rippletnark, LL.D., Regius 
 Professor of Virtue in the University of Oxford. 
 This book, which we intend to review at length later 
 on, reveals on a first survey matter of the deepest 
 interest. The author's name alone carries great 
 weight. And the circumstance that Professor 
 Ripplemark was awarded the V.C. for a deed of 
 exceptional gallantry at the battle of the Somme will 
 no doubt increase his circle of readers. We know of 
 no other work in philosophy the author of which 
 could write the letters LL.D. and V.C. at the end 
 of his name." 
 
 Mr. Hooker immediately wrote down the name 
 of the book on a slip of paper and said, handing it 
 to Robert the butler: 
 
 "Give this paper to Jenkins and tell him to take 
 the small car into town at once and get that book 
 for me at Quin's." 
 
 The man took the slip and made his way to 
 the garage, where the chauffeur was washing the 
 cars. 
 
 "You've got to scoot," said Robert. "He wants 
 that book from Quin's. Flash of lightnin'," he says. 
 
 "Damn his books! " replied the chauffeur. "That's 
 the fourth time he's sent me to Quin's this week. 
 What book does he want now?" 
 
 "I dunno. You can see for yourself. It's on that 
 paper." 
 
 The chauffeur glanced at the slip: 
 
 287
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 "Blest if the old joss isn't goin' to make another 
 Will!" he said. 
 
 "I could ha' told you that," answered Robert. 
 "Polycarp was here the other day, and that clipper 
 schoolmistress as was fired for 'anky-panky with the 
 orficers. I 'eard all about Vr when I was in the 
 'ospital at Boolong. There's a game on, my boy." 
 
 Mr. Jenkins did not deign to notice this last re- 
 mark. In his universe there was "a game on" 
 everywhere. That one should be going on in Mr. 
 Hooker's house gave it, in his eyes, no significance 
 out of the ordinary. So he returned to the former 
 point. 
 
 "It's a new sort o' Will he's going to make this 
 time. Look at that, Robert! 'The Moral Will.' 
 See what he's up to?" 
 
 " 'The Moral Will'— what sort of a Will's that, 
 Jenk?" 
 
 "Oh," said the chauffeur, "it means 'orspitals and 
 the Life Boat and the Railway Orphanage, and a 
 tight 'and on the women, and all that. I always 
 knew he'd do something silly with that con- 
 science of his. When a bloke's got a conscience, I'm 
 not takin' any, I tell you that! They're a tricky 
 lot. Don't trust 'emj that's my advice, I know 
 'em!" And he flung a bucket of water at the wheels 
 of the car. 
 
 "Does a Moral Will mean anythink for us?" 
 asked Robert. 
 
 "A bit," said Jenkins, in a tone of contempt. 
 "They don't leave much to the servants in Moral 
 Wills — at least not as a rule. It all goes to Char- 
 ities. Give me a real gentleman's will, that's what I 
 
 288
 
 PROFESSOR RIPPLEMARK EMERGES 
 
 say! Why, there was Lord Timbertree — brother 
 to that red-faced doctor as come here — all them. 
 Timbertrees was born in the gutter — made his money 
 in bottled stout, he did, and rare good stuff it was, 
 and many a glass o£ it I've had, and I wouldn't 
 mind blowin' the froth off one at this minute — died 
 of good living, he did, so they said — well, did you 
 see his Will in the paper last week? Two thousand 
 to his 'ousekeeperj five hundred apiece to every 
 servant as 'ad been with him seven years — and ten 
 thousand to the lady's maid! Put that in your 
 pipe, Mr. Robert, and smoke it! And then you'll 
 know what a real gentleman's Will ought to be like." 
 
 "I'll give you a tip, Jenk," said the other. "If 
 you want him to leave you anythink, don't tell him 
 what you won on the St. Leger." 
 
 "And don't you tell him," retorted Jenkins, "what 
 you won on that little sweepstake you got up last 
 week in the 'all." 
 
 "Look here!" said the discomfited Robert. "I'll 
 bet you three to one in quids that I'll find out in a 
 fortnight if he's going to leave anythink to «j." 
 
 "How are you goin' to do that?" 
 
 "Easy. When he reads a book, he always marks 
 the bits he likes in pencil. See him do it 'undreds o' 
 times. I'll look 'em over in The Moral Will before 
 he comes down in the morning. And if I can't find 
 out that way, I know another. 'Ave you never 
 'eard him talkin' to himself? Three to one on it, 
 Jenk, and no kid!" 
 
 "Get out!" said Jenkins as he mounted the car. 
 "We'll not know who's won till he's dead, you big 
 son of a blunderbuss! I'm not goin' to wait till then. 
 
 289
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 A bet like that isn't worth a blow of my 'orn! You 
 go and learn what bettin' is." And he drove off, 
 with the order for The Moral Will in his waistcoat 
 pocket. 
 
 Mr. Hooker's manner of reading a book was in- 
 tense, methodical and conscientious. He sat upright 
 before his desk, disdaining arm-chairs, a large ivory 
 paper knife in his left hand, a gold pencil in his 
 right and the sober spirit of his Quaker ancestry in 
 control of every feature in his face. As he read 
 he would beat time with the paper knife, holding 
 it like a conductor's baton. Now and then he would 
 lean back in his chair, resting the point of the paper 
 knife on a particular passage in the text, turning his 
 head slightly, with a keen sidelong glance fixed on 
 the words indicated by the knife. After which he 
 would lean over his book and, with the tip of his 
 tongue between his lips, draw a firm line at the side 
 of the important passage, perhaps adding a note, in 
 a very fine hand, on the margin. His sense of duty, 
 always apparent, was never more active than when 
 he was thus engaged. He held it a stern obligation 
 to pay the closest attention to the written word, and 
 would often comment on the scampering slap-dash 
 method of reading, now so common, as one of the 
 peculiar immoralities of the present age. Especially 
 when a book of philosophy was in question. On these 
 occasions his insistence on "the rigour of the game" 
 was as uncompromising as Mrs. Battle's. 
 
 For several days we see Mr. Hooker thus, im- 
 mersed in the study of The Moral Willy his mind 
 steeled against all other preoccupations and his five 
 
 290
 
 PROFESSOR RIPPLEMARK EMERGES 
 
 senses almost out of commission. Many sounds are 
 in the air, some sweet, some shrill, some sonorous j 
 but he hears them not. The great clock made by his 
 grandfather, with "Thomas Hooker, Smokeover," 
 printed in beautiful old letters on the dial, ticks in 
 the corner 5 the canary sings in its cagej the peacocks 
 cry on the terrace j the wind sighs in the great 
 cedars J the cocks crow on the Home Farmj the 
 watch dog barks by the stable door. Mr. Hooker 
 pays no heed. Every sense, every faculty, is ab- 
 sorbed in The Moral Will. 
 
 But when, through the open window, there comes 
 the whirr of the mowing machine on the tennis lawn 
 below, where now, alas! no tennis is played, we 
 observe that the swaying of the paper knife suddenly 
 stops and that Mr. Hooker looks up and listens. 
 What is he thinking? He is thinking of three tall 
 boys in white flannels who, till the last syllable of 
 Time has been recorded, will play tennis no more. 
 Then Mr. Hooker resumes the study of The Moral 
 Will) and some minutes elapse before the ivory knife 
 recovers its even sway. 
 
 Had Mr. Hooker read Professor Ripplemark's 
 work before the evil days came upon him he would 
 have been first astonished, then impatient, then 
 angry, and perhaps, in one of those fits of indigna- 
 tion to which his high nature was prone, would have 
 flung the volume into the flames. But a man who 
 has been salted with fire will endure many things 
 that the unsalted cannot away with, and may even 
 be indulgent to originality in a moralist. Cer- 
 tainly this book was original enough to ruin the repu- 
 tation of any philosopher. It was lively at those 
 
 291
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 points where most thinkers are tiresome j it was dar- 
 ing where they are overcautious. Where they walk, 
 it ran, where they trot on asses, it soared on eagles' 
 wings, where they drive a hearse, it drove a fiery 
 chariot behind the coursers of the sun. It abounded 
 in the work of the imagination j there were pages 
 which only needed the transposition of a few words 
 to become blank verse j there were Great Presences 
 which stalked through the book like Titans on the 
 mountain topsj there were battles and strange ad- 
 ventures and tales of discovery j and the chapter on 
 Death, which ended the book, was like the close of a 
 great symphony. 
 
 Professor Ripplemark laid it down that the Moral 
 Will was the private possession of no man, but a 
 copartnership of reciprocally interacting personal- 
 ities. Of course everybody had heard that before. 
 But the way in which the Professor dealt with his 
 "copartnership of reciprocally interacting person- 
 alities" was certainly new. He said its form might 
 be compared with that of a Business Incorporation, 
 a Trust in the real sense of the word, with a com- 
 petent Directorate to manage its affairs j and he 
 quoted the saying "Make to yourselves friends of 
 the mammon of unrighteousness, that, when ye 
 fail, they may receive you into everlasting habita- 
 tions." 
 
 When Mr. Hooker came to the chapter on "The 
 Board of Directors" the point of his ivory paper 
 knife was on the page at every line. 
 
 The ideal Board of Directors for moral enterprise 
 in a world such as ours, said the Professor, should be 
 composed of six persons : ( 1 ) A Business Expert — 
 
 292
 
 PROFESSOR RIPPLEMARK EMERGES 
 
 with all the sciences at his elbow j (2) An Artist — 
 preferably in the realms of literature j (3) A Moral- 
 ist of the Old School; (4) An Enthusiast for Educa- 
 tion; (5) A Seer J (6) A Gentleman of Sporting 
 Instincts. 
 
 These are the elements to constitute a Moral Will 
 at the point which the history of civilization has now 
 reached. They actually exist, in abundance, in mod- 
 ern society. But they meet at no Common Board 
 and transact no common business; they act singly; 
 and for that reason they are ineffective and the 
 Moral Will does not arise. Each by himself is a 
 failure. The Moralist of the Old School, by him- 
 self, is a dotard. The Business Expert, by himself, 
 is a rascal. The Artist, by himself, is a decadent. 
 The Enthusiast for Education, by himself, teaches 
 nonsense. The Seer, by himself, is a humbug. The 
 Gentleman of Sporting Instincts, by himself, is a 
 swindler. The value of each Director depends on 
 the other Directors who sit with him at the Board. 
 
 Very curious, too, was the Professor's treatment 
 of the various "interactions" going on at his Board. 
 At first the Moralist of the Old School and the 
 Gentleman of Sporting Instincts had immense diffi- 
 culty in understanding one another. But the prob- 
 lem was tackled, and at last each, under the influence 
 of the other, became so transfigured that he hardly 
 knew himself. So with all the others. The Artist 
 and the Business Expert thought they could never 
 agree; but they did; and then the pair of them set 
 to work on the Moralist and the Gentleman, and 
 there was a further transfiguration of all four of 
 them. So on till all the possible combinations were 
 
 293
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 exhausted and the whole Board was finally trans- 
 figured into the reality of the Moral Will. 
 
 Among the passages in Ripplemark's work which 
 Mr. Hooker scored with his gold pencil was one of 
 some length, against which he had written several 
 marks of exclamation and a marginal note of strong 
 approval. It ran as follows: 
 
 "Along with the desire for an ordered existence, 
 which is one of the chief objects of the Moral Will, 
 there are powerful tendencies in human nature work- 
 ing in a contrary direction. The risks and uncertain- 
 ties of life are not uncongenial to the mind of man, 
 which at this point, as at many others, shows signs 
 of adaptation to a world of sudden and unexpected 
 vicissitudes. The prevalence of the gambling habit 
 in all ages, and its diffusion among all classes of 
 society, indicates that risk may itself become an 
 object of desire apart from any contingent prospect 
 of gain. On this account it is to be doubted whether 
 mankind would be satisfied with an assured and 
 orderly existence, even if it could be achieved. For 
 example, careful observers have noted the fact that, 
 whenever economic changes raise wages to a level 
 which assures the workers against want, an outbreak 
 of gambling immediately follows. And, in general, 
 assured conditions of well-being are precisely those 
 which men seem most willing to stake on the issue 
 of uncertain events. A fixed sum is more easily used 
 as a gambling counter than one which is fluid and 
 uncertain. A thing may be too precious to riskj but, 
 again, it may be just precious enough to be worth 
 risking for its double. Hence there is truth in the 
 saying that a society where a modest well-being was 
 
 294
 
 PROFESSOR RIPPLEMARK EMERGES 
 
 guaranteed to everyone would be a paradise for the 
 bookmakers. . . . Until this tendency to prefer the 
 uncertain to the certain is eliminated from human 
 nature — of which there seems little prospect — no 
 system of distributing wealth is likely to give stable 
 results. It would always be at the mercy of experts 
 in the science of probability. The estimation of 
 what are called chances has indeed a scientific basis, 
 but it seems also to demand a power akin to that of 
 genius in the artist. There is nothing in which men 
 differ more widely than in the degree of this power 
 they severally possess j whence it is easy to imagine 
 a state of society otherwise well ordered in which 
 the men who possess this power in the highest degree 
 would be completely masters of the situation. . . . 
 This possibility has not been sufficiently considered 
 by those who maintain that the social problem will 
 be solved when present forms of exploitation are 
 abolished. Much more dangerous forms of exploi- 
 tation are possible than any which revolutionary 
 Socialism is now seeking to overthrow. The gam- 
 bling tendencies of mankind are the easiest to exploit; 
 and men who are capable of exploiting them will 
 never be difficult to find. Conceivably these men 
 might make themselves masters of the world." 
 
 Mr. Hooker sat spellbound. What was the origin 
 of this passage? What could have suggested a line 
 of thought so unusual in a Regius Professor of 
 Virtue? Mr. Hooker's suspicions were awakened. 
 Could it be that Rumbelow, in his many wanderings 
 round the world, had come into contact with Ripple- 
 mark? Could it be that the bookmaker had opened 
 the Professor's mind at this point, by showing him 
 
 295
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 some actual instance of the obstinacy of the gambling 
 habit, such as he himself had witnessed on the night 
 of the railway accident? Why, of course! Had 
 not both men served in the war? And had not Miss 
 Wolfstone told him that Ripplemark had passed 
 through her hospital at Boulogne? As Mr. Hooker 
 fixed his eyes on the startling passage the bold eyes 
 of Rumbelow seemed to be looking at him from the 
 page. 
 
 For a long time Mr. Hooker sat pondering this 
 passage and reading it over and over again. At last 
 he determined to probe the matter to the bottom. 
 He would send a telegram to Professor Ripplemark, 
 asking him for an interview in Oxford on the earliest 
 convenient opportunity. 
 
 Next morning he was up betimes, and had no 
 sooner finished his breakfast than the book was 
 again in his hand. Turning up the critical pas- 
 sage he was greatly annoyed to see on the margin 
 the brownish imprint of a large and very dirty 
 thumb, almost obliterating one of his finely written 
 notes. 
 
 Now, if there was any small thing in this world 
 that could rouse the well-governed passions of the 
 millionaire, it was the sight of a blot or a defilement 
 on the pages of his books. He violently rang the 
 bell, and the butler appeared. 
 
 "Did you wash yourself this morning, sir?" said 
 the stern voice of his master. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said the trembling menial. 
 
 "Then perhaps you will explain how you came 
 to put your dirty fingers on The Moral Will? 
 
 "Never touched the book, sir." 
 
 296 
 
 a
 
 PROFESSOR RIPPLEMARK EMERGES 
 
 "How do you know that I am talking about a 
 book?" 
 
 "See the name on the back, sir. It's not me, sir. 
 It must have been one of the maids as dusts the 
 room." 
 
 Mr. Hooker held up the incriminating evidence 
 before the pale face of Robert. 
 
 "These," he said, "are not the thumb marks of a 
 woman. Besides, they show signs of tobacco juice. 
 Your own fingers are deeply stained with it at this 
 moment. You smoke too many cigarettes. You 
 have not washed yourself this morning, sir. You 
 have told me two lies in the space of half a minute. 
 Tell me no more!" 
 
 Mr. Hooker was quite capable of decisive language 
 when morality was in question. The butler said 
 nothing, and his face was that of a sheep. 
 
 "And now," Mr. Hooker went on, "I wish to know 
 why you are interested in The Moral Will. Your 
 finger marks are all over the book." 
 
 "Well, sir," said Robert in a hurried voice, "Pll 
 tell you the honest truth. It's all along of Mr. 
 Jenkins, sir. Mr. Jenkins has been savin' his wages 
 ever since he come into your service, sirj and some- 
 body's been tellin' him he ought to make his will. 
 He's been worried about it, bein', as you know, sir, 
 a very partickler man. ^Robert,' he says to me, *I 
 want to make a good will, a will as'll show people 
 when I'm dead that I've been a moral man.' Well, 
 sir, you'll remember as 'ow you give Mr. Jenkins the 
 name of the book on a piece of paper to take to 
 Quin's. When he come home he says to me, 
 ^Robert,' he says, *I believe that book would help 
 
 297
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 me. It's about a Moral Will. Take a dip into it 
 whenever you can and see if you can find out any- 
 thing that would show a man, as wants to leave a 
 hunblemished character behind him, how to do 
 his duty?' And that, sir, is a full and truthful 
 explanation of my conduct, sir. A man has feel- 
 in's, sir, especially towards his fellow-servants, 
 sir." 
 
 For some moments Mr. Hooker looked the butler 
 steadily in the face. Then, in a quiet but terrible 
 voice: 
 
 "You have been lying," he said. 
 
 "Sir " said the butler. 
 
 "You are about to lie again," replied Mr. Hooker. 
 
 "Then," said the man, changing his voice to a 
 snarl, "you can take a month's warning on the spot." 
 
 Without another word the butler slunk out of the 
 room. Mr. Hooker rang the bell that connected the 
 library with the garage. Presently the chauffeur 
 entered. 
 
 "Jenkins," said Mr. Hooker, "take the small car 
 to Quin's immediately and get me another copy of 
 The Moral Will. And take this copy to the back 
 premises, soak it in petrol and set it on fire." 
 
 There are some men who are most offended by 
 the large-scale evils of the world — by the spectacle 
 of festering slums and of multitudes that are as 
 sheep without a shepherd, by fields of battle soaked 
 in blood, by streets thronged with prostitutes, by the 
 prisons where Society, in the name of right, perpe- 
 trates a stupid and enormous wrong. There are 
 others who stumble most heavily when their feet 
 
 298
 
 PROFESSOR RIPPLEMARK EMERGES 
 
 Strike upon minor treacheries, upon meanness in the 
 grain. Mr. Hooker was one of these. 
 
 When the chauffeur was gone he sank into a chair 
 and showed the countenance of a man in despair, of 
 a victim to black thoughts and to dangerous exag- 
 gerations. Had a pessimist entered the room at that 
 moment and expounded the vanity of all ideals, 
 the futility of all gospels, the illusoriness of human 
 progress in general, he would have found the mil- 
 lionaire a sympathetic hearer. 
 
 "What difference does it make," he was asking 
 himself, "to a man like Robert, and to the immense 
 multitudes of which he is a sample, whether Pro- 
 fessor Ripplemark defines the Moral Will as *a 
 copartnership of reciprocally interacting person- 
 alities,' or as anything else you please? What differ- 
 ence would it make to him — to them — if Ripple- 
 mark had put a *not' into his definition? Or if 
 all the philosophers and moralists in the world were 
 to revise their systems and to put ^nots' into every 
 sentence where they don't exist, and delete them from 
 every sentence where they do? No difference what- 
 soever. He and his like are as little affected by 
 these things as if they happened on the other side of 
 the moon. Yet they are the very people who need 
 affecting. The ^great ideas' have been in the world 
 for thousands of years, leavening the mass,' ^filter- 
 ing down into the common mind,' and all the rest of 
 it. By this time, one would think, they ought to have 
 reached Robert the butler. They have not. The 
 thing he represents remains untouched and impreg- 
 nable, a mass of immovable ignorance, of blind habit, 
 and a greater factor in the life of the world than 
 
 299
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 all the philosophies of life. And what hope is 
 there that the next *great idea' — Ripplemark's or 
 Rumbelow's or anybody's — will fare better than its 
 predecessors? How little do the teachers of man- 
 kind realize their impotence to move the world! 
 How exaggerated their hopes! How false their ex- 
 pectations! How ready they are to swallow the 
 foolish tributes that are paid to their importance — to 
 believe, for example, that the whole planet trembles 
 every time one of them is let loose upon its surface! 
 The stupid flood pursues its course, never chang- 
 ing its direction, while they, like children, sail 
 their toy ships in the quiet backwaters and think 
 they are battle-fleets destined to conquer the uni- 
 verse. So it has been from the beginning. So it 
 will be to the end! What a farce! Nay, what a 
 tragedy!" 
 
 A look of pain passed over Mr. Hooker's features. 
 For his thoughts had taken another turn, more pre- 
 cise in its self-accusation. 
 
 "For two years," they went on, "I have had that 
 despicable rascal in my service and been in personal 
 contact with him every day. And I, all the time, 
 have been vapouring about moral ideals, the progress 
 of humanity, the perfectibility of man and what not 
 other nonsense, oblivious that the ^humanity' which 
 needs reforming was standing behind my chair with 
 a napkin on its arm — and a lie in its heart — it and I 
 as remote from one another as if we had been living 
 on two different planets, with forty million miles of 
 space between us! Where in the world is there a 
 greater fool, a greater humbug, than I have been 
 and still am? And to this humbug, to this fool, has 
 
 300
 
 PROFESSOR RIPPLEMARK EMERGES 
 
 now fallen the problem of administering one of the 
 greatest fortunes of modern times. What likeli- 
 hood is there that I shall end otherwise than by mak- 
 ing myself a spectacle to the gods?" 
 
 And Mr. Hooker laughed in the bitterness of his 
 heart. 
 
 Then, suddenly, he bethought him of Miss Wolf- 
 stone's play — Who is My Neighbour? — a type- 
 written copy of which was lying on the table at his 
 side. He took it up and, for the third time, read it 
 through from beginning to end. 
 
 When he had finished you would have seen that a 
 change for the better had taken place in Mr. 
 Hooker's countenance. It had lost its look of anger 
 and of pain. 
 
 "How true that is!" he said aloud. "And yet 
 how feeble the ending of the play. I wonder why? 
 There is something incomplete in that woman's life." 
 
 He was still wondering why, when a servant en- 
 tered the room and handed him a parcel tied up in 
 brown paper. He carefully untied the string — for 
 it was a rule with the millionaire never to cut a 
 string that could be untied — took out a clean copy 
 of The Moral Will by Professor Ripplemark, and 
 after glancing at the title page, which seemed to 
 interest him, laid it gently on the top of Miss Wolf- 
 stone's play, already deposited on the table by his 
 side. Then he leaned back in his chair, clasped his 
 hands behind his head, and resumed his meditations. 
 
 Suddenly, as though a bright thought had struck 
 him, he jumped up, went to his bookcase, took down 
 Who*s Who, and turned up the name of Maurice 
 Ripplemark, LL.D., V.C. In five minutes Mr. 
 
 301
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 Hooker had learnt by heart all that Who^s Who had 
 to tell him about the gallant Professor — his parent- 
 age, his birthplace, his age, his family connexions, 
 his University honours, and his favourite recreation, 
 which, said the authority, was "flying." As Mr. 
 Hooker closed the book he took a deep breath and 
 uttered an exclamation. "Ha!" he cried. And he 
 repeated "Ha!" again and again, each "Ha!" with a 
 deeper breath and a more emphatic note. 
 
 At the last exclamation Mr. Hooker crossed the 
 room with a rapid step towards the great window of 
 his library, and standing there in his favourite atti- 
 tude, hands behind his back, looked out. For the 
 first time he noticed a thing of which till that mo- 
 ment he had been completely oblivious. The 
 weather was changed. The sullen clouds which had 
 smothered Smokeover for so many days had dis- 
 persed, the sun shone, a soft wind blew, and a thrush, 
 thinking that spring was come, sang lustily from a 
 neighbouring tree. And Mr. Hooker, in the ex- 
 uberance of the moment, gave utterance to an ex- 
 pression he seldom used: 
 
 "Thank God!" 
 
 The truth is that there had just come to Mr, 
 Hooker one of the cogent inspirations of his life, 
 with a plan of action and a resolution in its train. Or 
 shall we say that a knot had suddenly untied itself, 
 of which his recent untying of the string round The 
 Moral Will had been a kind of symbol or premoni- 
 tion, arranged for their own amusement by the In- 
 visible Powers? 
 
 For some time afterwards you might have seen 
 the millionaire pacing his library, a liberated and re- 
 
 302
 
 PROFESSOR RIPPLEMARK EMERGES 
 
 joicing man, his features aglow with the look of 
 exaltation they had not worn since he discovered 
 the Unreal End of Things in the Smokeover 
 Cemetery. 
 
 "I must get further information at once," he says 
 aloud. "I must consult Rumbelow and My Lady." 
 
 He goes to his telephone, takes the instrument in 
 his hand, pauses for a moment to reflect, and then, 
 quickly replacing it, rings off. 
 
 "No," he says, "the emotional disturbance would 
 be too great. I must find a mediator — Mr. Hot- 
 black, of course!" 
 
 He seizes the telephone again. "Will Mr. Hot- 
 black dine with him, alone, in this house, to-night?" 
 Mr. Hotblack will be delighted. 
 
 303
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 Mr. Hooker Verifies an Intuition 
 
 "TT was nine o'clock in the evening j the millionaire 
 ■^ and his guest, both in spotless evening dress, 
 which Mr. Hooker seemed the more accustomed to 
 wearing, had finished their mealj the cloth was re- 
 moved, and two pot-bellied decanters of cut-glass, 
 one containing excellent port, the other incomparable 
 madeira, were placed on the shining mahogany. Each 
 was offered to Mr. Hotblack in turn and declined by 
 the cautious psychologist. Mr. Hooker then re- 
 placed the stoppers and pushed the decanters to a 
 safe distance. Whereupon both gentlemen filled 
 their glasses with water. 
 
 No sooner had the black-visaged butler relieved 
 them of his unwelcome presence, than Mr. Hotblack, 
 after looking round the room to assure himself that 
 they were alone, opened the conversation as follows: 
 
 "I understand, sir, that your interview with Sir 
 "William Timbertree was satisfactory." 
 
 "Entirely so," replied Mr. Hooker. "And more 
 than satisfactory. I believe that I have found a new 
 friend in Sir William — a valuable acquisition to a 
 man whose friends are not numerous. We spent two 
 hours in close conversation. I discovered that Sir 
 William, beneath an exterior which some people 
 would find offensive, and which I confess tried me at 
 
 304
 
 AN INTUITION VERIFIED 
 
 moments, has many fine qualities. In particular, 
 he revealed himself as a man of deep filial piety — 
 which I strongly suspect, Mr. Hotblack, is the source 
 of that m.ystical element which you rightly mentioned 
 as one of his peculiarities. He told me of his rela- 
 tions with his mother, who appears to have been a 
 remarkable woman — one of the many remarkable 
 women the world knows nothing of — though again 
 I must confess that some of the epithets he 
 applied to her were quite astounding. But I have 
 no doubt that Sir William, who is a master in his 
 own business, introduced this topic with a pur- 
 pose." 
 
 Here Mr. Hotblack slowly nodded his head sev- 
 eral times, with the air of a man thoroughly familiar 
 with the purpose in question. 
 
 "After that," Mr. Hooker continued, "Sir William 
 and I diverged to other topics. As you may imagine, 
 he was not long in finding a way to his favourite 
 theme, to which you referred at our last meeting — 
 the tendency of the group mind to deteriorate into 
 imbecility, a tendency which increases, so he said, 
 in proportion to the largeness of the group. Sir 
 William, I found, is an advocate of the small group 
 as against the large one. In this also we were in 
 complete accord. About my own condition he said 
 nothing at all until he was in the act of leaving the 
 room. He then paused for a moment at the door, 
 and after asking me if I ever played golf on Sun- 
 days, told me in effect — I am sorry to say his actual 
 words are quite unquotable — that he would give the 
 people who had raised the question of my sanity a 
 piece of his mind. In the same breath he asked me 
 
 305
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 for his cheque, which our interesting conversation 
 had unfortunately caused me to forget." 
 
 Mr. Hotblack was not insensible to the humour of 
 Mr. Hooker's narrative, and at the end could not 
 restrain himself from one of those violent bursts of 
 laughter which are held by purists to indicate a cer- 
 tain want of good breeding. 
 
 "In spite of Sir William's boisterous manners," 
 Mr. Hooker proceeded, **he impressed me as a 
 thinker and a humanist. Our conversation had led 
 us on to the aJBfairs of the world at large. Speaking 
 of the 'Great Powers,' as they are called. Sir William 
 insisted that all of them betray symptoms which ad- 
 mit of a clear pathological definition. The malady 
 indicated is an acute megalomania. Each of them, 
 he said, exhibits the symptoms in a form peculiar 
 to itself j while the lesser units contract it from the 
 greater by imitation, or unconscious mimicry, some 
 of the worst cases arising in this way. Six forms 
 of national megalomania can be identified in Europe, 
 and a seventh in America, all derivatives from a com- 
 mon type, but developing regional or endemic varia- 
 tions, according to race, climate or other conditions. 
 The diagnosis is best established by a study of the 
 foreign policies of the Powers affected, the signs of 
 mental alienation being much more marked on this 
 field than in domestic affairs. The difficulty, how- 
 ever, is not with the diagnosis, which is simple, but 
 with the treatment. The nature of this malady, it 
 appears, is to reinforce itself by association and con- 
 tiguity among the patients. It is therefore essential 
 to keep them apart from one another} the conse- 
 quence of bringing them together being that they 
 
 306
 
 AN INTUITION VERIFIED 
 
 egg one another on, until at last their mania breaks 
 out into criminal insanity — of which Sir William 
 gave several examples from the recent history of 
 Europe. Unfortunately no means can be found 
 for isolating the Powers, great or small, which have 
 contracted the disease, tiie tendency of the times 
 being all the other wayj this it is that renders 
 effective treatment extraordinarily difficult. The 
 difficulty reaches its height in the imitative outbreaks 
 of the malady among the smaller units, which are 
 sometimes disguised under claims for self-determina- 
 tion. Sir William wound up by pointing out the dis- 
 tinction between national megalomania and patriot- 
 ism. Megalomania is patriotism in the state of 
 degeneration and incipient decay, or, more simply, 
 patriotism gone mad. He thinks that the degenera- 
 tion of the one thing into the other has come about 
 through the enormous growth in the magnitude of 
 modern States." 
 
 "The Chief has a saying to the same effect," said 
 Mr. Hotblack: " *Power drives nations mad.' " 
 
 "I found Sir William an ardent advocate of inter- 
 national co-operationy" Mr. Hooker went on, "but 
 utterly sceptical as to international government. He 
 regards the project as an attempt to set up democracy 
 in a madhouse." 
 
 "As a compact between Powers it can be nothing 
 else," said Mr. Hotblack, "a mere arrangement for 
 pooling the toxin which maddens them all. But that 
 is not the only conception of the League of Nations. 
 Mr. Rumbelow has another. A world which cannot 
 be organized on the basis of power may yet be 
 organized in other ways. But proceed, sir, if you 
 
 307
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 please. Sir William's opinions on this matter are of 
 profound interest to a psychologist." 
 
 "He regards the world of international politics 
 as a Bedlam, in which the sane elements dance to 
 the tunes played by the megalomaniacs," said Mr. 
 Hooker. "His contempt for the corporate intelli- 
 gence of States is almost boundless. Of course he 
 instanced the war as the outstanding proof. But 
 beyond that he mentioned a long list of ^symptoms,' 
 as he called them, all pointing to criminal insanity 
 in States. One thing struck me with peculiar force. 
 In the course of his attack on the group-mind he 
 brought up the question of prisons — institutions, 
 Mr. Hotblack, which I have long held in the utmost 
 abhorrence. He declared with great vehemence 
 that the crimes which States commit against their 
 subjects in prisons outweigh all the crimes for which 
 the law-breakers are punished." 
 
 "As a psychologist I support him," interposed Mr. 
 Hotblack. "I should not be surprised to learn, sir, 
 that in speaking of prisons Sir William used the 
 word *hell' with considerable emphasis." 
 
 "He did," replied Mr. Hooker, "but I have not 
 thought it necessary to quote his expletives." 
 
 "In this instance," said Mr. Hotblack, "the word 
 was more than an expletive. Has it ever occurred 
 to you, sir, that our prison-system has received its 
 ultimate sanction from the idea of an eternal prison, 
 where a lawyer's God torments the souls of his 
 rebellious subjects for ever and ever? I should 
 like to have your opinion on that point." 
 
 "I have not the least doubt," replied Mr. 
 Hooker, "that hell and prison are connected institu- 
 
 308
 
 AN INTUITION VERIFIED 
 
 tions. Which is derived from which is difficult to 
 say. I take them as variant expressions of the same 
 idea — twin diabolisms, one might call them. But 
 you have just used a phrase, Mr. Hotblack, which 
 arrests me. You spoke of a 'lawyer's God.' What 
 exactly do you mean by that?" 
 
 "I mean," said the psychologist, "the Deity whose 
 attributes are suggested in 'God save the King,' which 
 accurately represents the popular conception of the 
 Divine Nature, as it exists not in this country alone 
 but in all countries which have contracted the 
 megalomania referred to by Sir William Timber- 
 tree. This conception of God had its origin in mili- 
 tary necessities, and was subsequently elaborated by 
 pact-making conquistadors, to consolidate their con- 
 quests and to prepare for new ones — a soldier's child 
 and a lawyer's nurseling. In the broad outlines of its 
 structure the whole theology of the West reveals 
 the lawyer's mind, Hebraic or Roman as the case 
 may be, completing the work of the military con- 
 queror. The religious mind has had far less to do 
 with these things than is commonly supposed. In- 
 stead of originating its own theology, the religious 
 mind has had to adapt itself as best it could, and 
 always at a great loss, to forms of thought laid down 
 for it by the lawyers of conquering states. Had 
 Western civilization devoted its energies to Beauty 
 and Joy, instead of to Power and Wealth, not one 
 of the creeds would be in existence j men would have 
 thought more nobly of God and of the universe, 
 and would have dealt more kindly one with another. 
 I may remind you, sir, that Moses, from whom 
 Western theology takes its rise, was a lawyer and a 
 
 309
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 conqueror. Beauty and Joy were not on his pro- 
 gramme. His daring raid into Palestine, and the 
 appalling atrocities perpetrated by his lieutenant on 
 the inhabitants of the Promised Land, have furnished 
 a model which men of blood and iron have never 
 been slow to imitate j while the Being who directed 
 these butcheries, and sometimes finished them off 
 with his own hands, remains to this day identified in 
 the popular imagination with the Creator and Law- 
 giver of the universe. In spite of the Greek infu- 
 sion, which has been considerable, religion, ethics, 
 law and international polity are still dominated by 
 ideas appropriate to the conquest of the Canaanites. 
 What wonder, sir, that 'man's inhumanity to man 
 makes countless millions mourn?' What hope for 
 goodwill among men so long as these stupid and 
 wicked survivals are integral parts of the popular 
 religion ? " 
 
 "Sir William said much the same thing," replied 
 Mr. Hooker, "though, of course, he phrased it dif- 
 ferently. In touching upon my own problem he 
 urged me, above all things, *to beware of the 
 lawyers,' using language which vividly recalled to my 
 mind some passages of the New Testament I have 
 recently been studying. In spite of the abominable 
 adjective which he invariably placed before his noun, 
 I could not help perceiving that Sir William's atti- 
 tude towards legalism was essentially the same with 
 that of my Quaker ancestors. The Quakers have 
 never submitted to the censorship of the legal 
 mind." 
 
 "Nor will Mr. Rumbelow," added Mr. Hot- 
 black. "The Chief, sir, is no enemy of the law, but 
 
 310
 
 AN INTUITION VERIFIED 
 
 he is determined to keep the legalists in their proper 
 place." 
 
 "I gathered so much from our last interview," 
 said the millionaire. 
 
 "Our last interview," said Mr. Hotblack, "has 
 produced interesting results in several directions. 
 You have told me of one. Permit me to tell you of 
 another. In consequence of a trifling mistake on the 
 part of the listeners who tried to overhear our con- 
 versation at the Club, the news was spread about 
 Smokeover that you were backing Joy Lady, a 
 runner in the Grand National, for twenty thousand 
 pounds. Before nightfall all the betting men in the 
 Club, and hundreds of others, were backing the horse 
 of that name for all they were worth, and some for 
 more than they were worth. She lost the race, which 
 nobody in his senses expected her to win. You may 
 imagine the rest. The only consolation Smokeover 
 has is that you, sir, have lost twenty thousand pounds 
 to Rumbelow, Stallybrass & Corker — that, in short, 
 we have thoroughly taken you in." 
 
 "It is the first time," said Mr. Hooker with a 
 smile, "that I have known the work of a great poet 
 lead either to a financial disaster or to a scandal. 
 Coleridge can hardly have foreseen that this would 
 result from his fine verses." 
 
 "In the regions psychology has to study," replied 
 the other, "my wonder never ceases at the extraordi- 
 nary combinations of cause and effect that are 
 brought about by what look like the merest acci- 
 dents. The tricks that are played upon what is 
 called ^the fixed system of natural law' by the reac- 
 tions upon it of the human mind are, indeed, a per- 
 
 311
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 petual marvel to me. No one who has studied them 
 can doubt for a moment that a sportsmanlike prin- 
 ciple is at work in the very constitution of things — 
 a principle, sir, not incapable of playing a practical 
 joke on those who deserve it. Nature — and nature 
 in the proper sense must always include the reactions 
 of the human mind — abhors mechanism. In the 
 last resort, I am convinced, we are dealing with a 
 consummate artist, or, which is the same thing, with 
 a sportsman. There is a subtle and hidden beauty, 
 sir, in these strange concatenations. For my own 
 part I have little doubt that the trifling incident we 
 are now discussing is nothing else than an interlude 
 of comedy, introduced by a master hand into the 
 drama of events. Or shall we say a scherzo, or a 
 weird and lovely dance, breaking and yet maintain- 
 ing the movement of a majestic symphony? In con- 
 templating these wonderful combinations, Mr. 
 Hooker, I am often reminded of the way an affluent 
 musician plays with his theme, evoking an endless 
 chain of astonishing variations from half a dozen 
 notes." 
 
 Here Mr. Hotblack paused, and, with an accuracy 
 of tone which showed that he was no mean musician, 
 hummed and boomed the variations of Beethoven's 
 Sonata in A flat, indicating the time by a gentle move-" 
 ment of his uplifted hand. 
 
 Then, quite suddenly, but without any violence 
 of transition, his humming ran on into articu- 
 late speech, as though the theme of the sonata 
 and the remarks that followed were all of one 
 piece: 
 
 "Indeed, I have become convinced that the whole 
 
 312
 
 AN INTUITION VERIFIED 
 
 entanglement — the seeming entanglement — in which 
 you are now involved, those problems of yours which 
 are moving to their solution in time with the march 
 of events, the strange experiences through which 
 you have recently passed, and the surprising varia- 
 tions of outlook to which they have led — I am con- 
 vinced, sir, that all this, regarded synoptically, has a 
 musical structure. You may wonder what has led 
 me to this conclusion. I will tell you. Acting under 
 Mr. Rumbelow's orders I have given a close pro- 
 fessional study to your adventures — if I may so call 
 them — both as a whole and in detail, and have dis- 
 covered at many points unmistakable signs of orches- 
 tration. Mark my words, Mr. Hooker j the end of 
 all this will be music! I do not anticipate that you 
 will achieve the regeneration of humanity by any 
 panacea, or set scheme designed for the purpose, 
 which, after all, would only provide a new field 
 of operation for the very evils it sought to cure. 
 But I do anticipate a work of art, a deed that can- 
 not be repeated, a thing of beauty and a joy for 
 ever." 
 
 "Mr. Hotblack," said the millionaire, who had 
 followed this flight of fancy with evident pleasure, 
 "I am beginning to suspect that in substance your 
 philosophy is my own. Quite lately I, too, have 
 been led to think that Beauty plays a larger part in 
 determining the actual course of the world than most 
 of our thinkers are aware of — though I must make 
 an exception of Professor Ripplemark. At all events 
 you have introduced incidentally one of the chief 
 topics on which I desire to consult you. You have 
 reminded me of problems still remaining on my 
 
 313
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 hands. Well, sir, I am fully resolved that the 
 disposition of the wealth for which I am respon- 
 sible shall not be left to the mercy of mechanical 
 methods." 
 
 "There is no harm in mechanical methods," in- 
 terposed Mr. Hotblack, "provided the application 
 of them is entrusted to sportsmanlike hands. In- 
 deed, sir, they are essential." 
 
 "I am beginning to understand your dialect," said 
 Mr. Hooker. "It is an interesting experiment in 
 the use of language — a field in which experiment is 
 much to be commended. In the meantime will you 
 be good enough to tell me whether you are familiar 
 — whether the Firm is familiar — with the phrase *a 
 copartnership of reciprocally interacting personali- 
 ties'?" 
 
 "We are thoroughly familiar with it," said Mr. 
 Hotblack, "though of course it is not the kind of 
 language we employ in the conduct of business. The 
 phrase was coined by Professor Ripplemark. It 
 occurs in The Moral Will, a remarkable work, of 
 which Mr. Rumbelow has distributed a hundred 
 copies among the leading members of the Firm. The 
 whole book, sir, supports the combination we have 
 been discussing — the creativeness of the sportsman- 
 like principle wedded to the efficiency of the mechani- 
 cal method." 
 
 "In which combination," said Mr. Hooker, "every- 
 thing turns on the individual characters of the in- 
 teracting personalities." 
 
 "Call them sportsmen," interrupted Mr. Hot- 
 black. 
 
 "The name is of no consequence." 
 
 314
 
 AN INTUITION VERIFIED 
 
 "Pardon me, sir, the name is of great consequence. 
 But please to go on." 
 
 "Well, then, the position is this. The wealth at 
 my disposition is far too great to be administered 
 by any single individual. On those terms the prob- 
 lem is frankly insoluble. Everything points to a 
 division of responsibility. This mass of wealth must 
 be broken up, not into a heap of unrelated frag- 
 ments by giving it to this and that — the usual prac- 
 tice — but by putting it under diversity of adminis- 
 tration. A community of wills must be constituted, 
 each of which shall so affirm itself as to help forward 
 the self-affirmation of the others, working for ends 
 that are different, but yet related in the unity of the 
 spirit." 
 
 "And in the bond of peace," added Mr. Hot- 
 black. "I understand you perfectly, sir, though, if 
 you will again pardon me, the Firm would render 
 your meaning with less circumlocution. In plain 
 speech, the members of your community must be 
 persons who love one another." 
 
 "You anticipate my thought," continued the mil- 
 lionaire. "Mr. Hotblack, I need hardly explain to 
 you, as a psychologist, that in my present position I 
 am an epitome of civilization, the summary of a 
 world which has suddenly grown rich and has yet 
 to learn what riches are for. Moreover, I am not 
 the rightful owner of what I possess. It is full of 
 evil possibilities I cannot control. Any lawyer, any 
 parson, any economist, any vulgar plutocrat, any 
 tub-thumping agitator at a street corner, could tell 
 me what to do with it. But their ways of disposing 
 of wealth are the mere makeshifts of the universal 
 
 315
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 Ignorance. Nor can I restore it to those to whom It 
 originally belonged, for the simple reason that they 
 are not to be found. Smokeover has no more right 
 to it than I have. If I give it to the State I give it 
 to the chief waster of the common substance j the 
 State will only have so much more at its disposal 
 when it makes the next war. If I give it to beggars 
 I merely support and countenance the evil conditions 
 of which my present position is the outcome. If I 
 give it to the Ethical Society, morality, like religion, 
 will become professional, institutional, an affair of 
 vested interests and appointments, and so lose the 
 little influence it might otherwise have. If I endow 
 my own opinions, they will degenerate in the 
 hands of the men I have bribed to teach them. 
 At all points I am confronted with an unman- 
 ageable task. Human nature was not meant for 
 wealth on this scale j it is a power far too great 
 to be lodged in the hands of any man, even the 
 wisest." 
 
 "I am glad to hear," interposed Mr. Hotblack, 
 "that you have no intention of handing your fortune 
 over to the State. There has been a rumour in 
 Smokeover to that effect." 
 
 "The State," replied Mr. Hooker, "is in a posi- 
 tion analogous to my own, handling wealth on a 
 scale which it lacks intelligence to cope with, and 
 setting its subjects a most pernicious example in the 
 spending of it — the very type of a dangerous multi- 
 millionaire. Sir William Timbertree referred to 
 this as a crowning instance of the ignorance of the 
 group mind. It astounds me, Mr. Hotblack, to hear 
 the agitators demanding that I should surrender my 
 
 316
 
 AN INTUITION VERIFIED 
 
 fortune to the State. But how are the eyes of the 
 public to be opened?" 
 
 "Education, sir! education!" said Mr. Hotblack, 
 taking time to consider his answer and pronouncing 
 the words with great emphasis. "But we have a 
 long furrow to plough." 
 
 "I observe," replied Mr. Hooker, "that you 
 said 'we.' Has the Firm any interest in educa- 
 tion?" 
 
 "It has become the ruling passion of Mr. Rum- 
 below's life, as it has always been that of My Lady's. 
 He regards the present movement for education as 
 the most fascinating and promising gamble on which 
 the human race has ever embarked." 
 
 "We have come to my second point sooner than 
 I expected," said Mr. Hooker, referring to a note- 
 book. "Mr. Hotblack, I have long been meditating 
 on these lines. But this morning an incident occurred 
 in this household — it was connected with the man 
 who has been waiting on us at table — which brought 
 my thoughts to a sudden focus. My mind is now. 
 irrevocably made up. I shall devote my fortune, 
 for the time it remains at my disposal, to the cause 
 of education." 
 
 "Good!" cried Mr. Hotblack. 
 
 "But I shall do it in my own way." 
 
 "Good again!" 
 
 "I shall work through a copartnership of recipro- 
 cally interacting personalities." 
 
 "Better than ever." 
 
 "My plan is to form a community of three." 
 
 "A well-chosen number, sir! When communities 
 are composed of more than three persons, or five at 
 
 317
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 most, the psychological conditions are apt to de- 
 teriorate. Three is an awkward number in affairs 
 of the heart but the best for effective co-operation. 
 Yes, the best number for a company of gentleman 
 adventurers. But see to it, sir, that all three are 
 sportsmen at heart! Everything else turns upon 
 that." 
 
 "We have reached the critical question," said Mr. 
 Hooker, drawing his chair close to the psychologist. 
 **We mentioned just now the name of Professor 
 Ripplemark. Mr. Rumbelow knows him? Speak 
 low, sir." 
 
 "Mr. Rumbelow is in touch with all that is most 
 adventurous in the mind of the age. He knows 
 Professor Ripplemark well." 
 
 "Ha!" said Mr. Hooker j then with a glance 
 round the room, "I am not altogether easy in my 
 mind, Mr. Hotblack. There may be listeners about. 
 Come further from the door; we are too near the 
 keyhole. The names I am about to mention must 
 not be overheard, nor supposed to be the names of 
 horses. A profound secrecy is essential. This is 
 no time for the Invisible Powers to amuse them- 
 selves." 
 
 The two now shifted their position, drew up their 
 chairs in close proximity to one another at either 
 side of a small round table, and with bent brows and 
 eager faces attacked the crisis of their discussion; 
 but in tones so subdued that the Immortals who 
 report these dialogues could hear no more than the 
 stray ejaculations, or rather explosions, in which 
 the pent-up enthusiasm of Mr. Hotblack found 
 relief. 
 
 318
 
 AN INTUITION VERIFIED 
 
 It was abundantly evident that Mr. Hooker's 
 plans had the warm approval of the psychologist. 
 Towards the end he had some difficulty in restrain- 
 ing himself. Finally, when a gesture from Mr. 
 Hooker indicated that the matter was concluded, he 
 sprang from his seat, grasped the millionaire by the 
 hand and threw caution to the winds. 
 
 "Let me congratulate you again, sir," he cried} 
 "let me congratulate you in the name of the Firm on 
 the most brilliant conception that ever originated in 
 the mind of a millionaire! A stroke of genius, sir! 
 A work of art in the true sense of the term! I 
 would not have believed that any mind save one was 
 capable of creating such a masterpiece — so daring in 
 motive, so farseeing in aim, so harmonious in design. 
 Worthy of the Chief himself, sir, and what more can 
 I say? You have caught the very spirit of the Firm! 
 You are establishing a new point of contact with the 
 invisible world! Your action will reverberate 
 through the ages! Your name will be linked with 
 the Chief's!" 
 
 Mr. Hotblack said more in the same strair^, until 
 at last, with a scarcely perceptible transition and as 
 though he could find no other mode of expressing 
 himself, he wound up his rhapsody by reciting, once 
 more, the lines which had brought disaster to the 
 racing fraternity of Smokeover. 
 
 Mr. Hotblack's enthusiasm had ended on a note 
 so high that for some minutes Mr. Hooker, who was 
 deeply moved, found it impossible to resume the 
 conversation. He had no alternative but to wait 
 until he had himself under control, and until Mr. 
 Hotblack, who had been pacing the room during his 
 
 319
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 recitation like a man possessed, had subsided into a 
 chair. At last he ventured to say: 
 
 "I can tell you an interesting fact regarding the 
 poem you have just recited. I learnt it from Sir 
 William Timbertree. The poem was a favourite 
 with his mother. She repeated it constantly on her 
 deathbed, and died with the last lines on her lips." 
 
 "I am aware of it," replied Mr. Hotblack. "A 
 fact of profound psychological significance, and one, 
 I assure you, that has not been overlooked by the 
 Department of the Firm over which I have the 
 honour to preside. Mr. Hooker, I have no right to 
 obtrude my own afFairs on your notice, but I can 
 hardly refrain at the moment from divulging a 
 domestic detail. I have left instructions sir, with 
 Mrs. Hotblack, who will probably survive me, that 
 those lines are to be inscribed on my tomb. They 
 will strike a new note in Smokeover Cemetery." 
 
 Here Mr. Hotblack, who was trembling with ex- 
 citement, frankly broke down. Then, with an effort, 
 and as though excusing himself, he went on: 
 
 "You must understand, sir, that the service on 
 which I am engaged is hardly compatible with a 
 long life. Psychology, to a man who takes it in 
 earnest, is an exhausting vocation — the most im- 
 portant but the most neglected of all the sciences, 
 despised and rejected by the powers that pretend to 
 rule the world. Yes, sir, it is an uphill fight. But 
 no matter! I serve a great master, and am willing 
 that nothing should be remembered of me save the 
 spirit in which I served him. It has been the spirit 
 of joy, sir — the spirit in which I have faced the odds 
 of this world, and hope, with Sir William Timber- 
 
 320
 
 AN INTUITION VERIFIED 
 
 tree's mother, to face the odds of the next. Those 
 lines express it." 
 
 At this unexpected self-revelation Mr. Hooker 
 was visibly affected, and he, too, had some emotion 
 to suppress. 
 
 "I perceive, Mr. Hotblack," he said, "that you 
 are guided by a star." 
 
 "I am, sir J and it shines on My Lady's forehead." 
 
 "I have seen it," said the millionaire in a solemn 
 voice. 
 
 There was another pause, broken at last by Mr. 
 Hooker. 
 
 "I have to thank you," he said, "for giving me to- 
 night the information that makes me sure of my 
 ground." 
 
 At these words Mr. Hotblack's countenance re- 
 sumed its businesslike expression. 
 
 "One thing only remains," he replied. "The 
 Firm must immediately compute the odds on the 
 success of what you propose to undertake. The 
 necessary data are all in my office and they shall be 
 passed on to the relevant Departments to-morrow. 
 But I must warn you, Mr. Hooker" — and here his 
 tone became exceedingly grave — ^Hhat the odds may 
 turn out against you." 
 
 "That will not affect my resolution in the smallest 
 degree." 
 
 "Nor the value of what you propose." 
 
 "Nor the value of what I propose," repeated Mr. 
 Hooker. Then, changing his tone: "And now, Mr. 
 Hotblack, our business being at an end I suggest 
 that you and I drink a glass of wine together." 
 
 A moment later the psychologist and the million- 
 
 321
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 aire were pledging each other in a draught of in- 
 comparable madeira. 
 
 As they deposited their empty glasses the distant 
 clock of Smokeover Cathedral struck twelve. 
 
 Next morning Mr. Hooker was in Oxford. 
 
 i 
 
 322
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 
 Professor Ripplemark is put to the Question 
 
 IT has been said, by an earlier Voice, that Mr. 
 Hooker's interesting problems had penetrated to 
 the Common Rooms of our ancient Universities, 
 where they had been provocative of much discus- 
 sion, grave and gay. The Regius Professor of 
 Virtue was, of course, well abreast of the controversy. 
 He had propounded several methods for extricating 
 Mr. Hooker from his difficulties, which, to say the 
 least of them, were somewhat unusual in the cir- 
 cumstances j and more than once he had startled the 
 audience in the Common Room by asserting that 
 the problem was, in essence, "a sporting proposition." 
 To which his argumentative colleagues had im- 
 mediately replied by challenging him to define his 
 terms. 
 
 Now Professor Maurice Ripplemark was notori- 
 ously careless in the definition of terms, a failing 
 which nearly caused the Regius Professorship to go 
 to his opponent, a gentleman seventy-three years of 
 age, famous the world over as a master of Defini- 
 tion. 
 
 And this indeed would have happened had not 
 one of Ripplemark's supporters, a fervent disciple of 
 Aristotle, put in a powerful plea, enforced by quota- 
 tions from the original Greek, in which he argued 
 that Valour was an essential qualification in a Pro- 
 
 323
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 fessor of Virtue^ and that no moralist was fitted to 
 hold such a position, least of all among the young 
 men (and the young women) of Oxford, unless he 
 had shown evidence of a strong nerve, a stout heart, 
 a clear head, an iron will and a complete disregard 
 for his personal safety — as Ripplemark had, and as 
 the septuagenarian had not. This argument, which 
 profoundly impressed the august powers responsible 
 for the appointment, carried the day. 
 
 But Ripplemark had not been long in office before 
 he began to give evidence of his failing. When the 
 Hooker question came up, the language he flung 
 about the University was so loose and vague as 
 almost to constitute an academic scandal. Again 
 and again the attempt was made to force from him 
 a precise statement of what he meant by "a sport- 
 ing proposition." This he obstinately refused to 
 give, asserting that the phrase represented an ul- 
 timate and self-evident category of thought, which 
 might explain other things but could not itself be 
 explained. And he would always end by express- 
 ing some surprise that the University of Oxford, of 
 all institutions in the world, could have any doubts 
 as to the meaning of the phrase — a remark which 
 gave some offence. 
 
 It was clearly needful to bring the Professor to 
 book on this matter. So the University Contention 
 Club, whose rule it was to discuss a practical prob- 
 lem once in seven years, invited him to read a paper 
 on the subject in a lecture room of one of the Col- 
 leges, under the title: "What ought Mr. Hooker 
 to do with his millions?" 
 
 Ripplemark recognized the sportsmanlike char- 
 
 324
 
 THE PROFESSOR QUESTIONED 
 
 acter of the invitation and responded in kind by 
 immediate consent. Whereupon the wits of the 
 Club, of whom there were several, began sharpen- 
 ing their swords and preparing their impromptus j 
 and there was every prospect of a very lively debate. 
 
 And so, at the very moment when Mr. Hooker 
 was in the act of ordering his thumb-marked copy 
 of The Moral Will to be soaked in petrol and burned 
 with fire, the author of the book was engaged in 
 composing a discourse upon Mr. Hooker, and he was 
 still so engaged when the millionaire's telegram 
 arrived proposing an interview. With this also 
 Ripplemark closed at once. He was naturally 
 startled by the coincidence. But his experience in 
 the war had taught him not to be greatly surprised 
 at anything. However, a surprise was in store for 
 him. 
 
 Mr. Hooker, who had recently been learning to 
 be interested in persons as well as in principles, spent 
 some time on the journey to Oxford in trying to 
 form a mental image of the kind of man Ripple- 
 mark might be. So far he had nothing to go upon 
 except The Moral Will and the particulars in Who^s 
 Who. Neither was sufficient for clear vision. There 
 were several chapters in The Moral Will which 
 were not incompatible with a seasoned maturity j 
 but there were others that betrayed the love of 
 danger that goes with the inexperience of youth. 
 So Mr. Hooker's visualizations were confused. Now 
 he would see before him a very lively young gentle- 
 man j now a prematurely old one; the first would 
 vanish on his remembering that Ripplemark was 
 Regius Professor of Virtue; the second on his re- 
 
 325
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 membering that he was a "V.C." There was noth- 
 ing for it but to wait for objective evidence. 
 
 Professor Ripplemark received the millionaire in 
 his college rooms. The man whom Hooker saw 
 before him might be thirty-five years of age. He 
 was erect without being stifF, his head finely poised 
 on a muscular neck. He wore an air of cheerful 
 vitality which — as a cynic once said of him — would 
 have been more befitting in a Professor of Vice. 
 Intense activity was bespoken at every point of his 
 lithe figure J thought sat upon a clear browj the eye 
 was large and liquid as a poet's. At a glance you 
 saw the high temper of the man, and thought, per- 
 haps, of a glittering blade wrought of the finest 
 Damascus steel. You saw also that Ripplemark was 
 wise j but wise rather after the manner of the serpent, 
 with its fatal spring, than of the owl with its dismal 
 profundity and melancholy flight. That a man so 
 debonnaire and radiant, so formidable and yet so 
 attractive, should profess Virtue by a King's com- 
 mand, would have seemed natural to a Greek of the 
 time of Alcibiades, or perhaps to an Englishman in 
 the merry days of Charles II; but to the men of this 
 generation, born under the grey, it was something of 
 a portent and an astonishment. Can you wonder, 
 then, that Mr. Hooker, in spite of his firm faith in 
 a connexion between Virtue and Happiness, gave a 
 slight start of surprise at his first vision of the Regius 
 Professor? 
 
 "You are Professor Ripplemark — Professor 
 Maurice Ripplemark?" he asked, the thought sud- 
 denly occurring that possibly there might be two 
 of them. 
 
 V 326
 
 THE PROFESSOR QUESTIONED 
 
 The Professor smiled. "I see, sir," he said, "you 
 expected Virtue to have a more venerable representa- 
 tive. But the Universities have changed greatly since 
 the war. The ring of octogenarians is being broken 
 up, and there is less intolerance towards young men. 
 Virtue, also, is less dismal that it was, and there is a 
 dare-devil element even in education." 
 
 "I congratulate you," said Mr. Hooker, "on your 
 appointment, which I hear was vigorously contested. 
 I congratulate the University. I congratulate the 
 nation. And I congratulate the King. You have 
 made a fine beginning. Professor. And you have 
 begun at the right end — the Moral Will. The es- 
 sential thing in philosophy — is it not? — is to get the 
 right opening, to know where to begin. I hope you 
 are going to follow it up." 
 
 Ripplemark said to himself: "So he is not going 
 to be a bore after all." Then aloud: 
 
 "I wrote that book, Mr. Hooker, before the war 
 — save for one chapter. But I have learnt much 
 since then. And, as you say, I must follow it up. 
 But I perceive you are a student of philosophy." 
 
 "Yes," answered Hooker, "I am what some people 
 call a tainted philosopher. A philosopher tainted 
 with business, and now still more deeply tainted with 
 money. There are those who think I know nothing 
 about business; you will probably think that I know 
 less about philosophy. Meanwhile the world calls 
 me a profiteer. Not an easy position." 
 
 "An interesting combination," said Ripplemark. 
 "And one with great possibilities." 
 
 "I am glad you see that," said Hooker, speaking 
 with great eagerness. "You interpret my own 
 
 327
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 thought. By the way — forgive me for asking — do 
 you know anything about business?" 
 
 "Hardly in your sense. Of course I have read 
 Political Economy. But I have no experience in 
 the handling of money on a large scale, which is a 
 defect in a Professor of Virtue. The moral prob- 
 lems of our time, sir, turn on the handling of money 
 more than on anything else. Say what they will, 
 money is the raw material, so to speak, with which 
 the Moral Will has to deal. But in business you 
 have the advantage of me." 
 
 "Let us look into that," said Hooker. "Natur- 
 ally you have had no business training in the ordinary 
 sense. But you have served in the war. You know 
 the importance of organization, discipline, exacti- 
 tude, scientific method." 
 
 Ripplemark wondered what he was driving at. He 
 was silent for a few moments, reflecting that he 
 would test the millionaire with generalities and make 
 sure of his ground before getting further involved. 
 
 "Oh yes," he said, "of course I was in the war — 
 did my bit like the rest of us. And I learnt a good 
 many things that will prove useful in my profession. 
 For example " 
 
 "In what branch of the Service were you?" in- 
 terrupted Hooker. 
 
 "I was in the infantry to begin with, and then 
 transferred to the Flying Corps." 
 
 "Ha!" cried the other, going ofF at a tangent. "I 
 had a son in the Flying Corps. He was killed." 
 And he began to give particulars. Did Professor 
 Ripplemark happen to have met his son? No. 
 
 "Naturally," Hooker went on, "I feel an interest 
 
 328
 
 THE PROFESSOR QUESTIONED 
 
 in all flying men. I hope you won't mind my say- 
 ing that it forms a link between you and me." 
 
 "You are extremely kind to say so. The link 
 holds reciprocally. The father of a flying man who 
 was killed — well, my own father is living, and I, 
 too, happen to be alive." 
 
 Here there was a slight emotional disturbance on 
 the part of Mr. Hooker, which brought the con- 
 versation to a pause. Ripplemark, breaking the 
 silence at a venture, began to talk disconnectedly. 
 
 "Flying, Mr. Hooker, is no bad training for a 
 philosopher. It's good for your psychology, helps 
 you to see things in perspective, accustoms you to 
 the unexpected, teaches you the meaning of decision 
 — and a lot more besides. For example: your valu- 
 ation of the planet is quite different when you are 
 15,000 feet above from what it is when you are on 
 the surface. It might almost be said to alter your 
 sense of relative values. A man should fly, sir, be- 
 fore he graduates in philosophy. Or failing that, 
 let him study astronomy. Astronomy achieves the 
 same result in another form — a powerful solvent 
 of limitations and a terrible corrector of human 
 pride — *just dreadful,' as Carlyle said." 
 
 "You said just now," broke in Hooker, "that The 
 Moral Will was written before the war. Do you 
 still stand by it?" 
 
 "Yesj but only as an introduction to the subject. 
 I emphasized that. As you said, the book needs to 
 be followed up." 
 
 "It is the following up that I am Interested in," 
 replied Mr. Hooker, "and I will return to that in a 
 moment. In the meantime I would ask a question. 
 
 329
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 That chapter in which you say that a man's will, 
 though not p-ivatey is yet all his own — your ex- 
 perience in the Flying Corps has not altered that?" 
 
 "On the contrary J that is precisely what flying 
 has confirmed. If a man wants to discover whether 
 or no he has a will of his own, let him fly, Mr. 
 Hooker J let him fly over the German lines with a 
 hostile squadron in pursuit of him. You can under- 
 stand, sir, that you are then in a position where you 
 can't consult anybody: neither your lawyer, nor your 
 doctor, nor your father confessor, nor your com- 
 mander-in-chief. Of course you may consult God. 
 Some do. But consulting God is only another name 
 for reinforcing your own independence. You act 
 on your own mitiative and take your risk. And there 
 you have the meaning of life focussed to a point. 
 Life, Mr. Hooker, consists in the facing of risks. 
 I said that in my book." 
 
 "That," replied Hooker, "is a view of life which 
 has only recently appealed to me. Perhaps I have 
 something important yet to learn about it. By the 
 way, do you possess an aeroplane at the present 
 time?" 
 
 "No J but I can always get the use of one." 
 
 "Then I wish," said Hooker with a smile, "that 
 one day you would take me for a flight." 
 
 Professor Ripplemark seemed amused. "I won- 
 der," he thought, "if that is what he has been driv- 
 ing at all the time. However, I will put him off." 
 
 "You are taking more risks than you know, Mr. 
 Hooker," he said. "But I am afraid the experiment 
 would not be satisfactory. To make it complete you 
 ought to take me for a flight, not I you. And then 
 
 330
 
 THE PROFESSOR QUESTIONED 
 
 — over the German lines, and with a hostile squadron 
 in pursuit. We could hardly reproduce that." 
 
 "I am not so sure," said the millionaire. "Before 
 the talk is over you may find, Professor, that I am 
 taking you for a flight, a pretty dangerous one, tooj 
 certainly at a great altitude and with a horde of little 
 minds in pursuit of us. But you must understand 
 that I am a lonely man — isolated from others by 
 circumstances which you can imagine — and such men 
 are subject to strange fancies. But leave that aside 
 and let us come to the object of my visit. Do you 
 happen by any chance to be acquainted with my 
 friend, Mr. Arthur Rumbelow?" 
 
 "I know him well," said Ripplemark, "and I 
 honour him as one of the greatest of men. We were 
 together in the same hospital in France, and I count 
 the accident that threw us together the most for- 
 tunate event of my life. But I am surprised, sir, 
 to hear you call him your friend." 
 
 Paying no heed to the last words Hooker went 
 on: 
 
 "Were you with him in the hospital ship that was 
 torpedoed?" 
 
 "I was." 
 
 "Were you an eyewitness of the saving of his 
 life?" 
 
 Ripplemark sprang to his feet. 
 
 "Then you know Margaret Wolfstone!" he cried. 
 
 "Calmly," said Hooker j "tell me what you saw." 
 
 "He and I were thrown out on the same side of 
 the ship J both of us were drowning; I called to her 
 for help; she saw me and heard me, but she went 
 after him and left me to my chances." 
 
 331
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 "And the inference?" asked Hooker, in a fierce 
 
 tone. 
 
 "She is one of the noblest of women!" cried 
 
 Ripplemark. 
 
 Mr. Hooker's expression softened immediately. 
 
 "And you know what has happened to her?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "A work of hell!" said Ripplemark. "Mr. 
 Hooker, if you have any sympathy with the people 
 who attacked her, may I ask you to end this inter- 
 view at once." 
 
 "I have none," said Hooker. "Professor Ripple- 
 mark, there is here an extraordinary convergence of 
 different minds. Your own and mine move to the 
 same point. Your book revealed it and your words 
 confirm it. Miss Wolfstone is my dearest and most 
 trusted friend. Were I to die to-morrow she would 
 be my heiress." 
 
 "Good God!" 
 
 Ripplemark stood aghast, and Hooker perceiving 
 the shock his words had produced, wished he could 
 recall them. For a few moments both men were at 
 a loss for speech. 
 
 "Mr. Hooker," said Ripplemark, "you have 
 brought me evil tidings — evil, at least, to this ex- 
 tent, that they place me in a very difficult position." 
 
 A light began to dawn upon Hooker's mind, more 
 perhaps from the tone of Ripplemark's voice than 
 from the words themselves. But he was not sure. 
 He resolved to test the ground. 
 
 "You mean," he said, "that Margaret Wolf- 
 stone, as what she was, is one person: Margaret 
 Wolfstone, as my heiress, another?" 
 
 332
 
 THE PROFESSOR QUESTIONED 
 
 *'I mean perclsely that," said Ripplemark. 
 
 Mr. Hooker needed no further assurance. Doubt 
 gone, he plunged ahead. 
 
 "You have said, Professor Ripplemark, that what 
 I last told you places you in a difficult position. Will 
 you allow me to be the means of your extrication?" 
 
 Here Ripplemark, for some reason the other could 
 not divine, broke into a hearty peal of laughter. 
 
 "Pardon me, Mr. Hooker," he said, "the situa- 
 tion is most extraordinary. At the moment of your 
 entering this room I was engaged in an attempt to 
 extricate you from a difficulty. And now you are 
 proposing to extricate me from one of my own 
 which, if it is not presumptuous to say so, is almost 
 as great as any of yours." 
 
 "You are speaking in riddles," said Hooker j "I 
 must ask you to solve them." 
 
 Ripplemark then told him what had happened: 
 of the challenge he had received as Regius Pro- 
 fessor to take up the much-talked-of problem j of 
 the debate that was due in a few days. 
 
 When the recital was over the two men were in 
 high spirits and for the next five minutes there was 
 enough laughter on both sides to make the conversa- 
 tion quite incoherent. When things had settled down 
 Hooker said: 
 
 "It is an unexpected opportunity for each of us 
 to illustrate your doctrine of 'reciprocally interacting 
 personalities.' I give you a free hand to extricate 
 me from my difficulties as best you can. And now, 
 seriously, will you allow me to extricate you from 
 yours in my own way?" 
 
 "That depends on how you propose to do it."
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 "Listen, then. You spoke just now, Professor, 
 of taking sudden decisions. Are you prepared to 
 take one now?" 
 
 "Yes. But I should like to see first where we are 
 going to alight." 
 
 "You must hear a long story first j but you will 
 find it useful in the preparation of your paper. The 
 disposition of my wealth during my lifetime has 
 still to be determined. Were it not for the friends 
 I have discovered it would be an intolerable burden. 
 I had a wifej sorrow broke herj she is dead. My 
 three sons were killed. I am, save for my friends, 
 alone." 
 
 He went on at some length. Very rapidly, but 
 omitting nothing that was relevant, he told the story 
 of his life, bringing it down to the very moment 
 when he found himself face to face with Ripplemark. 
 When he had done he said, without waiting for any 
 comment on his story, 
 
 "And now, Professor Ripplemark, for the precise 
 mode in which I propose to extricate you from your 
 difiiculty. Will you go into business with me, into 
 partnership, giving up your Professorship for that 
 purpose if it should be found necessary?" 
 
 "Certainly not!" said Ripplemark, with a look 
 of amusement on his face. "Nothing would in- 
 duce me to take such a step. You have told me 
 a profoundly moving story, Mr. Hooker, but 
 this that you propose is no way out of your diffi- 
 culties nor out of mine. I know nothing of busi- 
 ness." 
 
 For a moment Ripplemark thought, as so many 
 others had done, that the millionaire was beside him- 
 
 334
 
 THE PROFESSOR QUESTIONED 
 
 self. But Hooker gave him no time to indulge his 
 doubts. 
 
 "You refuse to go into business with W(?/* he said. 
 "Then will you go into business with me and Miss 
 Wolf stone ?" 
 
 "That I will," cried Ripplemark, "if you can 
 show me how it is to be done! What business? 
 What will you make, what goods will you sell, and 
 who will buy them?" 
 
 "In the Kingdom of Ends," said Hooker, "they 
 neither buy nor sellj but, by Heaven, they do busi- 
 ness!" 
 
 "That savours of Rumbelow," said Ripplemark, 
 "and it is profoundly true. But it is you who now 
 speak in riddles. Resolve them, Mr. Hooker." 
 
 "Have you not written in your book," said 
 Hooker, "that there comes a point in the history 
 of every philosophical system when it must either 
 be translated into action or dismissed as false? I 
 ask you to go into partnership with me and with 
 Miss Wolf stone on the very lines indicated in your 
 own book." 
 
 "I confess, Mr. Hooker," the other said, "that 
 your main idea — that of translating the Moral Will 
 from a book theory into a social force — appeals to 
 me strongly. But the form you have given it is novel 
 and bewildering — something of a bombshell to an 
 academic mind. In this University we study the 
 Moral Will for the purpose of passing examinations, 
 obtaining Professorships and scoring off one another 
 in argument. Ours to understand the Moral Will 
 or write books about it, not to make it." 
 
 Since the manifestation of Dr. Jekyll and Mr.
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 Hyde the phenomenon of dual personality surprises 
 nobody. Let no sceptic bark therefore when he 
 learns that at this moment there were three persons 
 in the room. There was Hooker, the millionaire j 
 there was Ripplemark, LL.D. j and there was Ripple- 
 mark, V.C. 
 
 It was Ripplemark LL.D. who had made the last 
 remark. It was Ripplemark V.C. who made the 
 next, and the next after that. 
 
 "And yet the Moral Will ought to be created 
 as well as talked about. Show me how to do it, 
 Mr. Hooker. This 'business' you speak of — what 
 is it? Tell me plainly." 
 
 Then, as though a sudden inspiration had come 
 to him, he cried out in a voice of enthusiasm: 
 
 "Is it Education?" 
 
 "How can it be anything else," said Hooker, 
 "since Margaret Wolfstone is one of the part- 
 ners?" 
 
 "Go on, sir! Go on!" cried Ripplemark. 
 
 "Miss Wolfstone will be in Oxford next week." 
 
 "I know it! For the Educational Conference. 
 We insisted on asking her as a protest against the 
 action of those villains. And that play she has begun 
 to write will be a big thing, Mr. Hooker!" 
 
 "I'm going to back it — the first deliberate gamble 
 of my life. But a moral gamble, if ever there was 
 such a thing." 
 
 "There are thousands of them!" cried Ripple- 
 mark. "A hundred to one on Margaret Wolf- 
 stone! I'm glad you've taken it on, sir! The Moral 
 Will Handicap and Margaret Wolfstone the 
 favourite!"
 
 THE PROFESSOR QUESTIONED 
 
 "You speak a strange language for a Professor 
 of Virtue," said Hooker. 
 
 "Metaphors," said Ripplemark, checking himself. 
 "The truth is, my mind is rather full of the subject 
 just now. As you know, the love of gambling is a 
 tremendous force in modern civilization. I am in- 
 vestigating its relations to the Moral Will, and I 
 assure you that the results are of profound interest. 
 I hope to deal with it fully in my forthcoming book. 
 But don't be alarmed, sir. Remember that by your 
 own confession you have been gambling yourself." 
 
 Here Mr. Hooker began to smile at his ov/n 
 thoughts. He was thinking of the report recently 
 spread about Smokeover that he was backing "Joy 
 Lady" for tv/enty thousand pounds. And he re- 
 membered Mr. Hotblack's comments on the incident. 
 He was about to mention the coincidence when he 
 suddenly recollected that "Joy Lady" had lost the 
 race, and feeling that this would spoil the story, he 
 resolved to say nothing about it. 
 
 "Yes," he said, still smiling, "it's hardly an ex- 
 pression I should have used to the Society of Ethi- 
 cal Culture, But I see we understand one another. 
 And now to the matter in hand. Clearly before we 
 go further Miss Wolfstone must be consulted. You 
 consent to meet her?" 
 
 "Certainly," said the V. C. 
 
 "Well, then, this day week we three will meet in 
 my private room at the Mitre Hotel." 
 
 "An admirable proposition." 
 
 "Then let me prepare you for the broad outlines 
 of what is coming. You and Miss Wolfstone will 
 have before you a business proposition, in the sense 
 
 337
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 in which business is done in the Kingdom of Ends. 
 You understand me?" 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 "Assuming that you and Miss Wolfstone consent, 
 you will become my partners on a footing of equality. 
 My fortune will be divided into three equal parts, 
 and each of us will have the free disposition of his 
 own. We form a community of three with mutual 
 loyalty as the only law of our relations. Think 
 that out in the light of what you have written in The 
 Moral Will.'' 
 
 And with that Mr. Hooker rose quickly from his 
 seat, grasped the Regius Professor by the hand and 
 said "Good-bye." 
 
 The Professor flung himself down in his arm- 
 chair and lit his pipe: Ripplemark LL.D. astounded 
 and incredulous J Ripplemark V. C. alert, eager and 
 believing} and the two fell into hot debate. Mean- 
 while Hooker, passing through the quad, was mur- 
 muring in half -audible tones: "Complications cer- 
 tainly. But that will only strengthen the alliance." 
 
 338
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 Professor Ripplemark is Extricated from a Difficulty 
 
 THE proceedings at the Conference on Educa- 
 tional Reform were reported at no great length 
 in the daily press. Half a column fer diem was all 
 the editors could spare, the bulk of their space being 
 required for international politics, the state of the 
 markets and the debates in Parliament. But it may 
 well be doubted whether this distribution of space 
 showed a true sense of relative values. Had a Victor 
 Hugo been present, first to follow the proceedings 
 of the Conference on Education, and then to spend 
 a week in attending the debates in Parliament, he 
 would probably have said, in the words of the priest 
 of Notre Datney "ceci tuera cela." 
 
 The men and women who attended the Confer- 
 ence were in earnest} most of them were persons of 
 great ability j idealists, full of enthusiasm, of hope 
 and of faith. Among them were the great pundits 
 of educational theory gathered from all parts of 
 the world, for the Conference was international, a 
 true League of Nations, though called by another 
 name. There were Professors from the Universities 
 and a crowd of teachers, of both sexes, from public, 
 private, secondary, elementary and technical schools. 
 Youth and age were here fellow-workmen j male and 
 female were one soul. The note of a great revival 
 
 339
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 was in the air and only the spiritually dead could 
 fail to hear it. 
 
 On the day preceding the Conference Miss Wolf- 
 stone, who had taken lodgings in the north of Ox- 
 ford, found a letter from Mr. Hooker awaiting her 
 on the breakfast table. She read as follows: 
 
 "My dear Margaret, 
 
 "Like 'the Three Wise Men' in your Christ- 
 mas Play I have spent much of my life in a vain 
 search for 'my neighbour.' Recently I have found 
 him, or rather I have found four. First I found 
 you, the nearest of them all 5 then I found Rum- 
 below and My Ladyj and within the last few days I 
 have found Professor Ripplemark. All four I can 
 honestly claim to love as I love myself j and, to tell 
 the truth, I love myself not a little. I wish all five 
 of us could meet at once and proceed to do to each 
 other as each would that the others should do to him 
 — neglecting the rest of the world for the time being. 
 But since that is impossible at the moment I propose 
 a Council of Three — you. Professor Ripplemark and 
 myself. We have business to transact in the King- 
 dom of Ends. Will you join us, dear friend, in my 
 private room at the Mitre Hotel next Thursday? 
 We three can then knock our heads together accord- 
 ing to the Hegelian formula. Thesis, Antithesis and 
 Synthesis. Which is which we must leave to be de- 
 termined by the course of events. The situation 
 should appeal to your dramatic instincts." 
 
 For some minutes after reading this letter Miss 
 Wolfstone stood quite still, a bright light in her 
 eyes, thinking rapidly. She looked at her watch: 
 
 340
 
 EXTRICATED FROM ONE DIFFICULTY 
 
 it was half-past seven. Leaving the breakfast un- 
 touched she put on her hat and went out. Half 
 an hour's walk brought her to Mr. Blackwell the 
 bookseller's shop, where the boy was just opening 
 the door J nobody else was about. 
 
 "I want The Moral Will, by Maurice Ripple- 
 mark," she said. 
 
 The boy, astonished by so early a customer and 
 bewildered by a proposition outside "his station and 
 its duties," went searching among the shelves. 
 "What did you say was the name of the book. Miss?" 
 he cried from the other end of the shop. 
 
 ''The Moral Will:' 
 
 The boy went on searching, and presently took 
 down a second-hand copy of Jones on the Making 
 of a Will, as the nearest thing he could find. But 
 when he came back to offer it to his customer she was 
 gone. She had found The Moral Will for herself 
 and left the money on the counter. 
 
 All day she sat close in her room reading the 
 book, oblivious for the time being of the Conference 
 on Educational Reform. She read on for hours, 
 never flagging. She read on into the small hours 
 of the next morning. When she had done she closed 
 the book with the single exclamation "Good! " Then 
 she wrote a brief note to Mr. Hooker, accepting the 
 appointment and adding this remark only: 
 
 "In all these things I cannot help thinking that 
 you and I and the rest of our Sieighbours' have fallen 
 under a spell, and that Billie Smith is the wizard. 
 Or is it Plato? In either event the important thing 
 is, as Socrates says, that the just should act upon it." 
 
 At the session of the Conference which took place 
 
 341
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 next day it had been arranged that Miss Wolfstone 
 was to speak. The subject was "Democracy and 
 Education." No sooner had her name been called 
 by the Chairman than the whole audience rose to its 
 feet and cheered tumultuously for three minutes. 
 The audience had its reasons for that. When it 
 was over, Hooker, who was seated next to Ripple- 
 mark, turned to his companion with tears streaming 
 down his face and said: 
 
 "These people are my people. Professor. The 
 Lord do so to me and more also if aught save death 
 shall part between them and me!" 
 
 The summary of Miss Wolfstone's speech as re- 
 ported next morning in the Times ran thus: 
 
 "The mission of democracy is to enthrone educa- 
 tion as the supreme business of mankind, and to place 
 all the other interests of society in their proper 
 order beneath it. When democracy has accomplished 
 this task its mission will be fulfilled, and it will give 
 way to a mightier than itself. The form of educa- 
 tion is aristocratic. Education presupposes the 
 eternal difference between wisdom and folly, be- 
 tween ignorance and knowledge, between the good 
 and the very good, in the last resort the difference 
 between the best and the worst. That spells aristoc- 
 racy — the aristocracy that is rooted in the constitu- 
 tion of the world and in the nature of the human 
 mind. Aristocracy, impossible as a form of govern- 
 ment, is a necessary principle of education, the one 
 and only solution of the problem of fowery which 
 a thousand political experiments have not yet solved, 
 and which, indeed, is insoluble on political ground. 
 
 342
 
 EXTRICATED FROM ONE DIFFICULTY 
 
 Education can never be carried on by a plebiscite of 
 the taught. The wisdom of the teacher cannot be 
 ruled by the vote of the pupil." 
 
 As Miss Wolf stone descended from the plat- 
 form an oldish man, with a lean figure, unmistakably 
 a hard-worked schoolmaster, rose suddenly to his 
 feet near the middle of the Hall. He was a stut- 
 terer and, labouring as he was under great excite- 
 ment, found himself unable to articulate a word. 
 For many seconds — to those who watched him it 
 seemed an age — he stood mouthing, writhing, 
 gesticulating, and finally sobbing in the agony of 
 his speechlessness — a grotesque but terrible appari- 
 tion. At last the pent-up energy released itself in 
 a great shout, which burst out of him all in a moment, 
 and rang like a trumpet in every corner of the build- 
 ing. "For God's sake, sir, ask that lady to go on!" 
 But the next speaker had already been called and the 
 oratory resumed its course. 
 
 After the meeting it was observed that Miss Wolf- 
 stone made her way to the stutterer and they two 
 went out together. 
 
 The place of meeting for "the Council of Three" 
 was in a room overlooking the Oxford High Street. 
 
 Miss Wolf stone, arriving five minutes before the 
 time, found the room empty. So she stood at the 
 window, looking at the stream of bicycles passing 
 up and down the street and thinking how like they 
 were to shoals of fishes swimming in opposite 
 directions. 
 
 Suddenly two cyclists, an undergraduate and a 
 girl, collided at the corner of the street opposite, and 
 
 343
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 went sprawling in the roadway on the top of their 
 machines. A third cyclist immediately ran into the 
 heap, and for a moment it seemed as if the double 
 current would pile itself up into a mountain of pro- 
 truding wheels and struggling humanity. 
 
 Miss Wolf stone was out into the street in a flash j 
 only to find that it was all over, everybody apologiz- 
 ing to everybody else and offering to pay damages, 
 while a policeman, note-book in hand, stood benev- 
 olently by with no occupation. A girl undergraduate, 
 leaning on a twisted bicycle, her feet entangled in 
 the ruins of a skirt and one side of her face plastered 
 with mud, was assuring an apologetic youth of the 
 same denomination, whose nose was bleeding pro- 
 fusely, that 'it didn't matter in the least.' A butcher's 
 boy, in the best of humour, was extracting a large 
 beefsteak from the middle of the debris, while a 
 middle-aged gentleman in cap and gown, who had 
 been rolled in a mess of smashed eggs, was receiving 
 expert advice from an old lady as to the best method 
 of treating his clothes. In a few moments the 
 crumpled bicycles, the hats and hat-pins, the pro- 
 visions, the note-books, the spectacles, the fountain 
 pens were collected and distributed to their rightful 
 owners, the entanglement dissolved, the traffic went 
 on as before, and it was as though such a thing had 
 never been. 
 
 When Mr. Hooker and Professor Ripplemark en- 
 tered the room they were astonished to find Miss 
 Wolfstone in the last stages of a violent fit of 
 laughter. She told them what had happened, and 
 then said, turning to Ripplemark: 
 
 "If only we could introduce the spirit of that 
 
 344
 
 EXTRICATED FROM ONE DIFFICULTY 
 
 girl with the muddy face into the conduct of great 
 affairs, the problem of your 'Moral WilP would 
 soon solve itself." 
 
 "Till then there is not much prospect of its being 
 solved at all," he answered. "I agree with you that 
 the Moral Will ought not to take itself too seriously. 
 It can afford to be jolly at times." 
 
 "One might almost define it as the will-to-be- 
 jolly," she said J "at least that is the way your under- 
 graduates seem to take it. I had no idea that the 
 spirit of Mark Tapley was so potent in this 
 place." 
 
 "I must introduce you," said Ripplemark, "to a 
 select few of our pessimistic dons. I assure you that 
 when some of us discuss the signs of the times all 
 the dogs in the parish begin to howl." 
 
 "That explains something that has been puzzling 
 me," said Miss Wolfstone. "Last night, as I was 
 passing your college, I heard the most appalling 
 howls. I thought you must be waking a corpse. 
 Dogs didn't occur to me at the moment. But doubt- 
 less you and your pessimistic friends were discussing 
 the signs of the times and the dogs of the parish were 
 making the chorus." 
 
 "It was a bump supper," said Ripplemark. "We 
 were giving vent to the high spirits of the 'Moral 
 Will.' " 
 
 "Were you howling?" 
 
 "I was J but in a manner not out of keeping, I 
 trust, with my position." 
 
 "So that the principle of your howling might be 
 law universal to all howlers." 
 
 ^'Pardon me — only to howling Professors of 
 
 345
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 Virtue. Your conception of universality, Miss Wolf- 
 stone, is defective." 
 
 So they went on: Hooker a silent listener, but 
 well pleased. 
 
 Presently they found themselves seated at a square 
 table in the middle of the roomj Miss Wolf stone 
 choosing the seat opposite the window, Hooker and 
 Ripplemark at either end. 
 
 "And now," said Miss Wolfstone, "let us begin 
 our story from the Arabian Nights. Mr. Hooker is 
 the good Genie, and we the two Poor Fishermen." 
 
 "Or rather," said Hooker, "you are two Islands in 
 which I propose to bury my treasure." 
 
 At which figure of speech Professor Ripplemark 
 looked puzzled, but said nevertheless: 
 
 "Islands are united by the bottom of the sea." 
 
 Mr. Hooker now composed his features to a look 
 of the utmost seriousness, yet not so successfully 
 but that a close observer — and there were two in the 
 room — might have seen the faintest trace of a smile 
 flitting from moment to moment about the corners of 
 his sensitive mouth. He also assumed the tone in 
 which he had been wont, in former times, to deliver 
 his annual address to the Ethical Society. But 
 neither was that altogether successful. 
 
 "Let us quit the realms of fancy and get to busi- 
 ness," he said. "Miss Wolfstone knows that for 
 many years I have tried to govern my actions by a 
 simple rule — ^So live that in affirming your own per- 
 sonality you may help others to affirm theirs.' It 
 has affinity to your own doctrine, Professor Ripple- 
 mark, as expounded in The Moral Will. By a 
 slight change of terms, which would be appropriate 
 
 346
 
 EXTRICATED FROM ONE DIFFICULTY 
 
 under certain conditions, we may read the rule thus: 
 *So live, that in extricating yourself from your own 
 difficulties you may help other people to extricate 
 themselves from theirs.' Now, I happen to be, as 
 you know well, in a great difficulty over the disposi- 
 tion of my wealth, at least for the rest of my life- 
 time. I have also learnt that Professor Ripplemark 
 is in a great difficulty of another kind" — here the 
 smile could no longer be restrained — "and I have 
 thought out a method of applying my principle to 
 precisely these conditions. I propose to hand over 
 immediately to each of you, with your consent, a 
 third portion of my total wealth, retaining the re- 
 maining third in my own hands, and to do this with- 
 out any conditions whatsoever, leaving you both en- 
 tirely free to affirm your own personalities in your 
 own ways. I have various other motives, of which 
 I will state only one. My total fortune is far too 
 great for any man to deal with. On general grounds 
 it ought to be broken up into much smaller portions 
 than those which I propose to hand over to you. But 
 the problem of breaking it up into its ultimate units 
 is, of course, only another name for the problem of 
 dealing with it in general. No man is good enough 
 or wise enough to break up a fortune of three mil- 
 lions — for that is what it now amounts to — without 
 incurring responsibilities which he cannot sustain. 
 I propose therefore to proceed by stages, choosing 
 in the first instance two persons, in whom I have 
 complete confidence, to act with me in the process 
 of breaking up, or, if you will, spending these mil- 
 lions. You are the two persons I have chosen, not 
 I assure you without full knowledge of the grounds 
 
 347
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 on which I was acting. In this way the breaking 
 up process will be carried out, according to the prin- 
 ciples of Professor Ripplemark's philosophy, by a 
 group of 'reciprocally interacting personalities' — in 
 other words, by a Moral Will. When each of you 
 receives the million you can break it up still further 
 in any manner you choose. The matter merely 
 awaits your consent." 
 
 When Mr. Hooker had finished his stiff oration, 
 Miss Wolfstone turned a look of entreaty upon 
 Ripplemark. The entreaty was, "For Heaven's sake, 
 speak first! I am utterly at a loss." Ripplemark 
 himself was in straits no less dire, but Miss Wolf- 
 stone's look gave him a subtle joy and put him on 
 his mettle. 
 
 "Mr. Hooker," he said, "for some time past I 
 have been scandalizing the University, and jeopard- 
 izing my reputation, by maintaining that your prob- 
 lem was essentially a sporting proposition. You 
 have proved it by what you have just said. If I 
 receive your gift I shall regard my own problem 
 exactly as I now regard yours — as a sporting prop- 
 osition. You must realize that, sir, before going any 
 further." 
 
 "I realized that," said Hooker, "on reading your 
 Moral Will. It is one of my strongest reasons for 
 m.aking the present proposal. I have learnt from 
 sources which I leave you to imagine, that a sports- 
 manlike principle is essential to the highest spiritual 
 achievement. But by way of testing whether we are 
 really in accord and understand one another, let me 
 ask if either of you knows precisely how you would 
 apply this wealth?" 
 
 348
 
 EXTRICATED FROM ONE DIFFICULTY 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Wolfstone, "I should devote 
 it to the promotion o£ individual lovingkindness in 
 infinite ways. Forgive me for speaking first, Pro- 
 fessor Ripplemark." 
 
 "It is your right," he answered. 
 
 "But what would yoii, dor" she asked. 
 
 "I am waiting for you," said the Professor in a 
 low voice. 
 
 She turned her clear eyes full upon him and 
 seemed to question his face. "I see," she said, "you 
 want me to explain myself. Well, what are called 
 the big things don't primarily interest me. I love 
 the little ones, and have longed all my life, ever 
 since I was a child, for power and money to look 
 after them. If Mr. Hooker will give me money 
 for that purpose, I will take it, without hesitation, 
 without shame." 
 
 "But do you know how you would do all these 
 little things?" asked Ripplemark. 
 
 "No and yes. No, in the sense that I should have 
 no plan, scheme, theory or fixed idea. Yes, in the 
 sense that I should begin with the first that came, 
 and let the field extend and the items multiply as 
 they would, taking them one by one, and sure that 
 as each one came another would immediately follow. 
 Through the little things I should learn the secrets 
 of the big ones, and perhaps, at the last, might 
 venture to touch some of them, very gently. For ex- 
 ample, I should begin with that stutterer who stood 
 up at the Conference the other day — you both saw 
 him — as the one readiest to hand. By the way, I 
 never met a stutterer who was a fool ; have you. Pro- 
 fessor Ripplemark? No. Well, that man is not a 
 
 349
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 fool. Oh, by no means — but I mustn't talk about 
 him now. I only mean that he is as good a point of 
 departure as any other. I should start with him, and 
 just go about doing what I could, taking my own 
 line with every one, without reference to the Society 
 for this or to the League for that." 
 
 "But are you sure," said Ripplemark, "that you 
 would not do more harm than good?" 
 
 "Can you tell me of any rule or formula that 
 will guarantee me against doing more harm than 
 good?" 
 
 "The best that I know of," said Ripplemark, "is 
 in the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians. And 
 there are many others. But I can't tell you how to 
 apply any one of them." 
 
 "Aye, there's the rub!" cried Miss Wolf stone. 
 "Given the opportunity, I should begin with the 
 applications, and then you, Professor Ripplemark, 
 might deduce the principle of my action when I had 
 done. History first, philosophy afterwards, as you 
 say in your book," 
 
 "But do I understand you to mean," said Mr. 
 Hooker, who had been listening with knitted brows, 
 "that you intend to desert the Great Causes of 
 Humanity?" 
 
 "That is the Great Cause of Humanity," she 
 cried, "in the infinite wonder of its minute particu- 
 lars! There is no other. All others are of minor 
 importance." 
 
 While she was speaking Ripplemark was leaning 
 forward on the table, his hands extended in front 
 of him, and clasped together, his bright eyes gleam- 
 ing with thought. 
 
 350
 
 EXTRICATED FROM ONE DIFFICULTY 
 
 "It seems," he said quietly, "that you attach no 
 importance to the Universality of the Moral Will." 
 
 "I take it from the other end," she said. "You 
 expect me to be interested in the Universal Will. I 
 expect the Universal Will to be interested in me. 
 Here I am; if it exists, let it use me. Neither you 
 nor I can apply it. If we try to, we make fools of 
 ourselves. But if it is what it claims to be, let it 
 apply itself. Has the Universal no will of its own? 
 Meanwhile my business is with the stutterer. I 
 know what to do and mean to do it. No doubt the 
 principles are there, and when the thing is done, 
 but not till then, we'll find out what they are. It 
 will be interesting, and perhaps amusing, too." 
 
 "I doubt," said Mr. Hooker, speaking in the dry 
 tones of Ethical controversy, "whether you would 
 know quite so clearly what to do with the stutterer if 
 the Great Principles had never been enunciated." 
 
 "Be it so," said Miss Wolfstone. "The Great 
 Principles have been enunciated ten thousand times. 
 We are not going to gain much by enunciating them 
 once more. They are here, let them work in whom 
 they will, and meanwhile, instead of talking about 
 them, which only weakens them, let us give them a 
 chance to reveal themselves in action." 
 
 "Wait a moment," said Ripplemark; "you are 
 going too fast. Miss Wolfstone, even for a flying 
 man. Don't be so severe on the Principles. You 
 have just stated one of the best known of them all 
 — that of individual lovingkindness." 
 
 "There are two kinds of Principles," she answered, 
 "those that can be applied and those that cannot. 
 Mine can." 
 
 351
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 "Do you mind naming one that cannot?" said 
 Ripplemark. 
 
 "The love of Humanity." 
 
 "Oh!" cried Mr. Hooker. 
 
 "Mr. Hooker," she said, "do you love Hu- 
 manity?" 
 
 "Not as much as I ought," answered the million- 
 aire. 
 
 "And do yoUy Professor?" 
 
 "No," said Ripplemark, "I don't. I have no love 
 to throw away on abstractions." 
 
 "Neither does Mr. Hooker. He's far too good 
 a man. He loves his neighbour; and that is the only 
 sort of ^Humanity' that any of us can love." 
 
 "And who is our neighbour?" said Ripplemark. 
 
 "The one who is nearest. The one who comes 
 next. The one who lives next door. The one whose 
 landmark is in the next field to yours. Not the 
 generalized anybody, but the particular somebody. 
 The one you understand and call by his first name, 
 not the one you don't understand and call an in- 
 habitant of Kamskatka. In all honesty, does any 
 one of us three love the Kamskatkans?" 
 
 "I know very well that I don't," said Ripplemark. 
 "I am under no illusions about that." Mr. Hooker 
 was silent. 
 
 "You will go too fast," Ripplemark went on, 
 though his manner seemed to say that he wanted to 
 go faster than anybody. "Consider this. Miss Wolf- 
 stone. If you begin to pick out the individuals you 
 love, you discover at the same time how many in- 
 dividuals you hate." 
 
 "And that is precisely what people hide from 
 
 352
 
 EXTRICATED FROM ONE DIFFICULTY 
 
 themselves by all these windy phrases. They daren't 
 face their own hard-heartedness. Their soft-headed- 
 ness to the *many' makes them hard-hearted to the 
 ^one.' Oh!" she cried, "I loathe it all! So violent, 
 so stupid, so insincere! It ends in nothing but 
 speech-making and iniquity. Let us three get out 
 of that fog." 
 
 She spoke with passion, and her voice trembled. 
 Ripplemark was still keeping himself in hand. 
 
 "Miss Wolfstone," he said, "I want to ask you a 
 thing. You are writing a drama — you told me so. 
 Has this any connexion with what you have been 
 saying just now?" 
 
 "Of course! " she answered. "Why has the world 
 come to its present anarchy? Simply because we have 
 all been playing with ideas we don't understand, 
 tampering with forces we can't control, befogging 
 ourselves with vast generalizations that mean noth- 
 ing, pretending to care for things to which we are 
 really indifferent, professing to love 'Humanity' or 
 the 'State,' while we despise the man who lives next 
 door — and all the time neglecting the only thing 
 that counts, the only thing your Moral Will can 
 control, the love of our neighbour — the man who 
 comes next, the man whose bicycle runs into yours 
 and sends you sprawling into the middle of the road! 
 That girl with the muddy face! She was immortal, 
 Mr. Hooker! She deserves to be remembered to 
 the end of the world!" 
 
 "The sportsmanlike principle once more," said 
 Ripplemark. 
 
 "And the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians," 
 said Miss Wolfstone. 
 
 353
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 "They are the same. But are we not talking in 
 the air?" 
 
 "And where else should an airman be more at 
 home?" she flashed back. 
 
 All three joined in the laugh. Mr. Hooker was 
 the first to collect himself. 
 
 "Before wq proceed further," he said, "I am 
 going to test your reactions. This morning I have 
 received two letters giving me advice — I receive 
 such letters every day. The first assures me that it 
 does not matter what I do with the millions pro- 
 vided my motives are good. What do you think of 
 that?" 
 
 "Your responsibilities arc far too momentous to 
 be covered by imbecilities of that kind," said Ripple- 
 mark. 
 
 "They are mere verbiage," said Miss Wolfstone. 
 
 "Good," replied Hooker. "And now for the 
 other letter. The writer urges me to sell all that I 
 have and give to the poor." 
 
 "The writer of that is not sincere," said Miss 
 Wolfstone. "Had he been honest he would have 
 spent his pennies on bread for the poor and not on 
 a postage stamp." 
 
 "He would deny it," said Ripplemark. "But his 
 arguments to prove himself sincere would be his 
 crowning insincerity." 
 
 "Then I think we may proceed," said Hooker. 
 "In an arrangement of this kind the essentials are 
 secure from the moment the parties have perfect 
 confidence in one another." 
 
 "Still," said Ripplemark, "we are not yet on a 
 business-like footing. Forgive me, Miss Wolfstone, 
 
 354
 
 EXTRICATED FROM ONE DIFFICULTY 
 
 if I play the cross-examiner again. I asked you a 
 moment ago how you meant to do these things. May 
 I ask now where you mean to do them?" 
 
 "I have a profession," she answered; "and unless 
 I am mistaken, Professor Ripplemark, it is the same 
 as your own. We are both school-teachers." 
 
 Ripplemark sprang to his feet. 
 
 "That is the deciding word!" he said. "Mr. 
 Hooker, there are two men in me. One would live 
 a life of argumentative futility. The other would 
 act immediately — would begin, with Miss Wolf- 
 stone, upon the one who comes next. The last is my 
 deciding self. I accept your ofFer." 
 
 "Is he no more than your deciding self?" inter- 
 rupted Miss Wolfstone. "Because, if he is no more 
 than that, 7 shall refuse." 
 
 "I think he is more," said Ripplemark. "He is 
 the man who does not love Humanity, but does love 
 his neighbour." 
 
 "That will do," she said, turning to Mr. Hooker; 
 "Professor Ripplemark's answer is mine." 
 
 Mr. Hooker leant back in his chair, his benignant 
 face beaming with smiles. His quick intelligence 
 had perceived from the first that the speech between 
 these two was gradually becoming the vehicle of an 
 invisible drama. He saw that the crisis was at hand. 
 Miss Wolfstone looked steadily towards the window 
 as before, and Ripplemark watched her. 
 
 "The matter is settled," said Hooker. "The nec- 
 essary arrangements will be made at once. And now 
 I shall v/ithdraw and leave you two to argue your 
 differences between yourselves." 
 
 Without waiting for a word of thanks the old
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 millionaire shook hands with the young ones and was 
 gone. ^ 
 
 Miss Wolfstone now rose and went to the win- 
 dow, looking out upon the scene of the recent acci- 
 dent. Ripplemark remained where he was. 
 
 Presently he said: "Would you mind repeating 
 your definition of one's neighbour?" 
 
 His manner in saying this was that of a Professor 
 catechizing a pupil. She saw the mockery, but 
 answered quite gravely: 
 
 "The man who comes next." 
 
 "But what if the next-comer happens to be not a 
 man but a woman?" 
 
 "Then the difficulty will be reciprocal. The 
 woman will have met a man." 
 
 "And supposing that these two suddenly discover 
 that they do not love, but hate?" said the Professor. 
 
 "Then one of them must immediately leave the 
 room," said Miss Wolfstone. 
 
 Instantly he crossed to where she was standing. 
 
 "I am not going to leave the room," he said. 
 
 "Neither am I," she answered. 
 
 It was done J and that, too, in full view of what- 
 ever observers there may have been at the opposite 
 window. 
 
 In this manner Professor Maurice Ripplemark 
 was extricated from his difficulty. 
 
 356
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 And Forthwith Finds Himself in Another 
 
 "OEFORE Mr. Hooker's problem is forgotten it 
 •^ is to be hoped that some careful student of 
 civilization will collect and classify the enormous 
 multitude of divergent or contradictory answers 
 that were given to it, in the period of its ascendancy, 
 by different sections of the public, and by dijfferent 
 individuals in each. Many would rattle off an 
 answer in five seconds j some in terms of champagne 
 and packs of hounds; some in terms of Revivals at 
 home and Missions abroad. Very often the answers 
 thus given would be accompanied with an air of 
 immense wisdom in reserve, as who should say, 
 "Give me the millions and I'll just show you what 
 to do with them." But of the thousands who treated 
 the question in this airy fashion there was hardly 
 one but broke down hopelessly when cross-examined 
 by the representatives of contradictory views. After 
 the debate had been roaring for months, the solution 
 was no nearer than at the beginning; nay, like the 
 Irish question, it was further off. Never has there 
 been a greater confusion since the reign of Chaos 
 and old Night. 
 
 The University of Oxford was no exception. 
 There was observable, indeed, a certain tendency 
 to the superficial agreement that the millions would 
 be well bestowed on the University; in which par- 
 
 357
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 ticular Oxford resembled the various Hospitals, 
 Charities, Churches, "Movements" and Societies 
 which submitted their needs to Mr. Hooker. But 
 though Oxford was, in a manner of speaking, agreed 
 on this point, you had only to raise the question, 
 "What would the University do with the millions 
 if it got them?" to raise a Babel of voices, each seek- 
 ing to drown the rest. It is perhaps as well that Mr. 
 Hooker did not bestow them on the University. 
 Had he done so, that ancient institution might have 
 been rent by internal dissensions. 
 
 What would Ripplemark say to the Contention 
 Club? When it became known that the Regius Pro- 
 fessor would deliver himself, the question flew to 
 all lipsj and when the news leaked out that Mr. 
 Hooker himself had been in Oxford, expectation 
 rose to bursting pitch. 
 
 If the University knew nothing of what the Pro- 
 fessor would say, the Professor himself knew no 
 more. He was in a great perplexity. It is an annoy- 
 ing feature in the constitution of the universe that 
 a turn in the march of events which extricates us 
 from one difficulty often implicates us in another — 
 an experience familiar to lovers, philosophers and 
 statesmen. Thus it happened to the Regius Pro- 
 fessor of Virtue. On the one hand Mr. Hooker's 
 anomalous conduct had brought his relations with 
 Margaret Wolf stone to a most triumphant issue j 
 on the other it had created new complications in his 
 relations with the world, with the University, and, 
 not least, with the Contention Club. He was under 
 an engagement to offer the Club a de jure solution 
 of Mr. Hooker's problem 5 and this solution was 
 
 358
 
 AND FINDS HIMSELF IN ANOTHER 
 
 due to be presented on the day following that on 
 which Mr. Hooker had achieved a de facto solution 
 for himself. Strictly speaking, therefore, Mr. 
 Hooker's problem no longer existed — at least in its 
 original form. Moreover, Professor Ripplemark 
 had himself become an accomplice, a confederate, 
 or active partner, to the solution, on terms in 'easy 
 accord with the adventurous elements of his per- 
 sonal character, but not so easy to reconcile with his 
 official position. 
 
 How, under these circumstances, was he to act? 
 He had only a few hours to make up his mind. As 
 he paced up and down his room on the morning of 
 the critical day, he paused once or twice to reflect 
 on the perversity of things and on the paradoxes of 
 philosophy. Mr. Hooker, in solving his own prob- 
 lem, had created another for Professor Ripple- 
 mark — that was the perversity of things. Mr. 
 Hooker, in affirming his own personality, had made 
 it extremely difficult for the Regius Professor of 
 Virtue to affirm his without getting into hot water — 
 that was the paradox of philosophy. But the Pro- 
 fessor had no time to indulge in these general specu- 
 lations: he could only make a note of them for 
 future reflection. Anyone who had seen the expres- 
 sion on his face, as he threw himself down in a chair 
 and lit his pipe, would have realized that his gift 
 for rapid decision was being put to the test, and that 
 the test was exceptionally severe. There was cer- 
 tainly no time to lose. 
 
 At all costs his engagement to the Club, compli- 
 cated though it was by an engagement of a very 
 different kind, must be fulfilled ^ the alternative 
 
 359
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 was unthinkable. But how, with any show of 
 honesty, could he treat the question before the 
 House as though his interest in it were purely philo- 
 sophic? How could he treat it as open when, in 
 reality, it was closed? How could he avoid revealing 
 the facts? And how could he reveal them without 
 making himself, Mr. Hooker and — worst of all — 
 Miss Wolf stone at least ridiculous? What version 
 of the facts could he present which would be intelli- 
 gible to academic minds? To be sure, he might 
 appeal to their sporting instincts, which, he well 
 knew, were strong, easily aroused and closely related 
 to their conception of Virtue. But even so the risks 
 were enormous. An ill-chosen word, an untimely 
 gesture, might ruin everything. 
 
 What helped Professor Ripplemark most at this 
 juncture was not, it must be confessed, his phi- 
 losophy, but the memory of his past achievements. 
 As he pondered the crisis before him he was re- 
 minded, suddenly and vividly, of certain glorious 
 moments during his service in the Flying Corps. 
 He recalled in particular how once, when the visi- 
 bility was as bad as it could be, he had delivered 
 his squadron, by a bold and decisive stroke, from a 
 hopeless entanglement in the upper air, for which 
 service an enthusiastic Commander-in-Chief had 
 recommended him for the V.C. At these memories 
 the spirits of the Regius Professor, which had been 
 somewhat depressed on a first review of his diffi- 
 culties, rose highj and his resolution was instantly 
 taken. It displaced another, half formed, which 
 was less worthy of him. 
 
 Some days before his first interview with Mr. 
 
 360
 
 AND FINDS HIMSELF IN ANOTHER 
 
 Hooker the Professor had sketched the main lines 
 of his coming discourse, and there, on the table 
 before him, lay the rough notes he had then made. 
 On glancing through them he observed, with no 
 little pleasure, that his own de jure solution of the 
 Hooker problem was identical in principle with the 
 de facto solution achieved by the millionaire him- 
 self. The following were some of the points noted 
 down for elaboration: 
 
 Ripplemark had resolved to inform the Club that 
 the problem was insoluble on logical grounds j that 
 the data for solving it did not exist in the present 
 imperfect state of our social knowledge j that the 
 whole discussion of it was infected by prevailing 
 ignorance as to the right uses of wealth j that this 
 ignorance was shared by the poor with the rich, by 
 Labour with Capital, by Oxford with Smokeovcr, 
 by the individual with the State j and that, in con- 
 sequence, anyone who pretended to give a scientific 
 solution was a quack. 
 
 For the same reason Ripplemark absolutely re- 
 jected the solution, so freely offered by agitators and 
 others, that the millionaire ought to restore his 
 wealth to the community. If he did so, he would 
 restore it to an owner whose incompetence to deal 
 with it was only greater than his own. The com- 
 munity had no valid claim to Mr. Hooker's millions. 
 It had often been said that his fortune had been 
 created by the labour of his fellow men. It were 
 truer to say that it had been created by the errors 
 of his fellow men. Without the connivance of social 
 folly on an enormous scale such a fortune would 
 never have come into existence. The agitators were 
 
 361
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 always proclaiming that Mr. Hooker owed his 
 wealth, not to his own exertions, but to "society." 
 Yes, but he owed it to what was worst in society: to 
 its blindness, its stupidity, its limited intelligence, 
 its barbaric passions, its national greeds and to the 
 monstrous delusions which dominated the interna- 
 tional situation. That being so, the notion that 
 "society" had a claim to Mr. Hooker's millions 
 seemed to him preposterous, unless the principle 
 were allowed that fools were always to be guaranteed 
 against the fruits of their folly. Let it be granted 
 that Mr. Hooker did not know what to do with his 
 money. But did "society"? Did the community? 
 Did the State? Did the Government? They had 
 only to examine the budget of any great State to find 
 examples, by the hundred, of the misapplication of 
 wealth in its most stupid and flagitious forms. It 
 were more to the point if Mr. Hooker were to use 
 his millions for chastising the community for the 
 ignorance and crime which had thrust him into his 
 present position. 
 
 The only solution which he could offer as satis- 
 factory would take a dramatic rather than a logical 
 form. It might appeal to the artist, but would 
 offend the doctrinaire — the type of solution which 
 convinces nobody when set out on paper, but con- 
 vinces everybody when it becomes an accomplished 
 fact. Fortunately the universe they were living in 
 did not condemn men to inaction till they could find 
 a logical way out of their difiiculties. Otherwise 
 the most beneficent deeds of history would never 
 have been done. The structure of the universe was 
 on the side of those who had the courage to attempt 
 
 362
 
 AND FINDS HIMSELF IN ANOTHER 
 
 dramatic solutions of problems that were otherwise 
 insoluble. It favoured the heroic virtues j and he 
 hoped that Mr. Hooker would solve his problem on 
 heroic lines. Had he the means of doing so, he 
 would advise the millionaire, on grounds of dra- 
 matic justice, to devote the whole of his fortune to 
 attacking the very ignorance which created it. YeSy 
 he would urge Mr. Hooker to give his money hack 
 to ^^ society " — not^ however^ in the form of doles or 
 ransomy but in the form of a smashing blow. He 
 would imflore him to give back by hitting back; to 
 strike with all the force that three millions sterling 
 could fut into his arm; and to strike at the m^ost 
 dangerous feature in society — to wit, its ignorance. 
 
 These metaphors were the proper mode to express 
 his final conclusion, which was that Mr. Hooker 
 should flace his millions at the service of Education, 
 But now he would tell them what he meant by Edu- 
 cation — for on that point, he imagined, there was 
 some difference of opinion. 
 
 Such were the notes of the Address with which the 
 Regius Professor of Virtue had originally intended 
 to enlighten the members of the Contention Club. 
 Glancing through them on the morning of the great 
 day, his first impulse had been to adhere to his 
 original plan, and to say nothing of what had hap- 
 pened. But here his conscience smote him sharply. 
 It would be a merry prank, no doubt, to keep his 
 secret up his sleeve; but would it be fair, would it be 
 straight? Above all, would it be playing the game? 
 Absit! With a swift and angry movement the Pro- 
 fessor of Virtue rolled his sheet of notes into a ball 
 and flung them into the fire. He would do a 
 
 363
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 cleaner and bolder thing — a thing for which the 
 candid soul of Margaret Wolfstone would give him 
 praise, as it would give him blame for the other — 
 appalling thought! He would tell the Club that 
 Mr. Hooker's problem was solved j he would tell 
 them that he himself was an active partner in the 
 solution} he would tell them exactly how and on 
 what terms. And let the consequences be what they 
 might! 
 
 This matter disposed of, the Professor of Virtue 
 felt himself relieved of a burden and of a menace^ 
 to his moral integrity. He would make no further 
 preparations for his Address, but trust to the inspira- 
 tion of the moment to tell a plain, straightforward 
 tale. His self-confidence was equal to that. It is 
 not to be denied that he took a secret pleasure in con- 
 templating the surprise he had in store for the re- 
 doubtable Contenders, and laughed to himself as he 
 thought of the wits of the Club, whose premeditated 
 impromptus would be put out of commission. He 
 looked forward to an interesting evening. 
 
 His mind was now free to admit another topic, 
 which, if truth must be told, had been knocking 
 loudly for admittance during the whole of the fore- 
 going meditations. What the topic was his actions 
 immediately revealed. From a drawer at his side he 
 took out his bank-book, added up the figures, and 
 found that he had an available balance of £300. 
 This sum the Professor of Virtue resolved to devote, 
 in its entirety and with no delay, to the purchase of 
 an engagement ring for Margaret Wolfstone, with- 
 out pausing to ask himself a single question about 
 "the right uses of wealth." His next act was to 
 
 364
 
 AND FINDS HIMSELF IN ANOTHER 
 
 consult Bradshaw and his watch. Yes, there was 
 time to do it. He could catch the one o'clock train 
 to London, make his purchase, and be back by 8:30 
 for the meeting of the Contention Club. And, then, 
 when the meeting was over, he would present the 
 ring to its destined owner, who was still in Oxford 
 and sure to be wide awake, though the hour would 
 be midnight, and somewhat late for a Professor of 
 Virtue to be entertaining his mistress. Whereupon 
 the prospect for the day became more interesting 
 than ever. "This day," he reflected, "is going to be 
 wonderful." He was not mistaken. 
 
 Meanwhile the coming debate was being talked of 
 as one of the greatest sporting events in the history 
 of the University. All day the colleges were tense 
 with expectation j books were thrown aside, games 
 played half-heartedly, lectures given absent-mind- 
 edly, and poured forth to deaf ears. Not only in the 
 University but outside bets were being made right 
 and left on the chances of Ripplemark giving a 
 definite answer to his problem. Rumour declared 
 that Rumbelow, Stallybrass & Corker were tele- 
 graphing the odds all over the country. At six 
 o'clock in the evening they were reported as 7 to 1 
 against Ripplemark. 
 
 Half an hour before proceedings were due to 
 begin the room was packed to suffocation. Not only 
 did the audience fill all the seats, they sat on the 
 tables and under them, on the floor, on the window- 
 sills, on the bookcases. Some, by an art which is the 
 secret of the Oxford undergraduate, had attached 
 themselves, high up, to the walls, where they had 
 the appearance of hanging from the picture-hooks 
 
 36S
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 like pieces of tapestry. One had perched himself 
 immediately behind a bust of Cardinal Newman, and 
 seemed to be sitting astride of that distinguished 
 head, as indeed he partly was. Had Superstition 
 been present it would have read this as a dark omen. 
 But the Contention Club was not superstitious. It 
 was open-minded and highly critical. It expected 
 the Regius Professor to be original in his handling 
 of the question, but it would meet him with the 
 tolerant incredulity which befits a great University 
 in the presence of new ideas. 
 
 The audience watched the clock. As the hands 
 reached 8.30 conversation subsided, and all eyes 
 turned towards the door by which the speaker of the 
 evening was to enter. It remained closed. At 8.35 
 it was partly opened by the Chairman, who thrust 
 his head into the room, glanced round as though 
 he were looking for somebody, and then withdrew. 
 At 8.40 there were signs of impatience and cries of 
 "Hurry up!" At 8.45 the Chairman, followed by 
 the Secretary and Treasurer, entered and took their 
 places. But there was no Ripplemark. The Chair- 
 man began to explain. He was afraid there had been 
 a miscarriage. Professor Ripplemark was not to be 
 found. He had left Oxford at one o'clock and had 
 not been seen since. A fresh relay of searchers had 
 been sent out, and he proposed that the meeting 
 should await their return. If the new searchers 
 had no success, the meeting must consider what it 
 would do. The matter was mysterious; the more so 
 as Professor Ripplemark was known to them all as 
 a man of meticulous punctuality in keeping an en- 
 gagement. 
 
 366
 
 AND FINDS HIMSELF IN ANOTHER 
 
 He had barely said the last words when a young 
 man appeared from behind and thrust a telegram 
 into his hand. The young man whispered to the 
 officials. He was saying that the telegram had 
 arrived at the Chairman's private address after his 
 departure for the meeting, which had been early, 
 and that its importance had only just been dis- 
 covered. 
 
 From the expression on the Chairman's face the 
 audience guessed the worst. A moment later they 
 learnt from his lips that hope must be abandoned. 
 "Accident J deeply regret impossible to keep engage- 
 ment j no cause for alarm." So ran the fatal words 
 of the message read by the Chairman. What he did 
 not read, however, was the name of the office in 
 London from which the telegram had been 
 despatched. This, in spite of Ripplemark's assur- 
 ance to the contrary, alarmed him greatly. 
 
 For a moment the whole audience was aghast, as 
 though it had been just missed by a thunderbolt. A 
 groan of disappointment followed, which broke up 
 and dispersed itself into a buzz of conversation j as 
 on a racecourse when the favourite is not at the 
 starting post, or as in a crowded theatre when the 
 manager announces that a great actor's part will be 
 taken by an understudy. What could it mean? Had 
 Ripplemark's courage failed him at the last moment? 
 Had stage-fright attacked him? Had he run away? 
 These suggestions, made by a gentleman who had 
 not served in the Flying Corps, and would not have 
 won the V.C. if he had, were dismissed as abomin- 
 able. But what then? No one could answer. The 
 data were so scanty that even the acutest minds of the 
 
 367
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 Club could hardly frame an intelligible question, 
 or challenge a definition of terms. 
 
 But the spirit of Contention is not easily baulked. 
 No sooner had the shock subsided than proposals 
 arose from all sides for a makeshift debate. Speeches 
 were waiting for delivery, and the gentlemen who 
 had prepared impromptus would not lightly throw 
 them away. In consequence of all which the Chair- 
 man presently announced, amid loud applause, that 
 he himself would step into the breach and open the 
 discussion. 
 
 The Chairman, who was a prominent member of 
 the Fabian Society, did his best. His discourse was 
 a creditable but rather dull exercise on the thesis so 
 decisively rejected by Professor Ripplemark in his 
 original draft — namely, that Mr. Hooker ought to 
 restore his millions to the community whose labour 
 had created them, and that, if he failed to do so 
 of his freewill, the "State" must compel him to 
 disgorge. 
 
 The result of this opening was that the discussion 
 immediately took the form of a battle royal between 
 the Individualists and the Socialists, following in 
 the main the lines of an argument on which Conten- 
 tion has been sharpening its faculties for half a cen- 
 tury, and which has every prospect of performing the 
 function of grindstone until it ends, as many great 
 controversies have ended, by being forgotten. 
 
 Midnight was approaching and asphyxiation 
 had almost done its worst, when the last speaker got 
 upon his feet J and with him there came a diversion. 
 He was an undergraduate, and, by the look of him, 
 a formidable one, with the profile of Mephistopheles 
 
 368
 
 AND FINDS HIMSELF IN ANOTHER 
 
 and a full face of the most charming Innocence — 
 an anomalous young gentleman whom his tutors 
 knew not how to handle j for apparently he did no 
 work, though he managed to win every University 
 prize he attempted, at once the shame and the glory 
 of his college j which complication was further com- 
 plicated by the fact that he was the heir to a peerage, 
 and a rising poet into the bargain. Speaking with a 
 slight stammer and a pronounced lisp the under- 
 graduate announced his regret that the discussion 
 so far had been left to the dons, and submitted that 
 the time had come for the less important section of 
 the University to make itself heard. He did not 
 believe in the State, and regarded with contempt any 
 argument which invoked it to solve the question 
 before the House. The State was the apotheosis 
 of the general incompetence, the vulgar mind writ 
 large, a god made by fools in their own image. It 
 was devoid of Beauty, and therefore of real value. 
 It was high time that this idol shared the fate of all 
 the false gods, that, namely, of being laughed out 
 of existence. Authority, whether in Church or State, 
 had lost all claim to be taken seriously. It had 
 ceased even to be fraudulent, and become simply 
 absurd. Laughter, not revolution, was the solvent 
 of the problem of Power j and the world was merely 
 waiting for a new Voltaire or a new Cervantes to 
 raise the chorus of derision in which all the big wigs 
 would vanish for ever. For his part he could never 
 look upon any holder of power decked out in his 
 robes of office without an impulse to burst out laugh- 
 ing, cut a caper and stand on his head. The only 
 truthful portraits of power-holders he had ever 
 
 369
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 seen were the cartoons in Punch: those, for example, ; 
 
 where they were represented as wooden figures in 
 Noah's Ark, looking forth distressfully on the sur- 
 rounding flood. The private memoirs of great per- 
 sonages, of which so many had recently been 
 published, were sufficient proofs that the entire per- 
 formance in which these puppets took part was a 
 mockery. As the eyes of the public were gradually 
 opened, by these means, to what went on behind 
 the seats of the mighty, the whole apparatus of 
 power would collapse, to the accompaniment of the 
 universal mirth j while the revolutionaries, who were 
 just as ridiculous as the funny automata whose robes 
 of office they were trying to steal, would find them- 
 selves without an occupation. The only sphere 
 where power had a real meaning to-day was the 
 army, in which he had recently served. As every- 
 body knew, whose eyes were in his head, the modern 
 State was constructed on a military model. It was a 
 camouflaged armyj a vast fighting machine painted 
 to look like a factory j or, if they liked, a Big Bertha 
 hidden in a Foreign Office. The theories which 
 derived the State from the family, or any other 
 pacific group, were pure nonsense. It was derived 
 from the army, and the way in which this patent 
 fact was hushed up by political philosophers, who 
 would lose their jobs if they told the truth, was a 
 public scandal. As for Mr. Hooker and his like, ^ 
 
 they were the nightbirds who followed in the wake 
 of the host, always at a safe distance, and enriched 
 themselves by stripping the dead on the battlefields, 
 and emptying the pockets of the wounded, whose 
 throats they had cut — like the ghouls described in 
 
 370
 
 AND FINDS HIMSELF IN ANOTHER 
 
 Les Miserables. They should be shot at sight. He 
 congratulated posterity on the new aristocracy of 
 battlefield robbers founded during the warj their 
 children had a fair chance of ruling the world for 
 the next hundred years, and, if the House cared to 
 look into the matter, they would find that many aris- 
 tocracies had originated in the same manner. His 
 own family was a notable example. 
 
 He was proceeding to enlarge on the history of his 
 family, and had got so far as to sketch the character 
 of his great-grandfather, who was a bosom friend of 
 George IV, when the Chairman called him to order 
 for the irrelevance of his remarks, and the hour 
 being late, declared the proceedings at an end. 
 
 So the meeting broke up, leaving Mr. Hooker's 
 problem exactly where it had been when the pro- 
 ceedings began. 
 
 In the meantime other telegrams had been re- 
 ceived, and the air was thick with the most alarming 
 rumours as to the cause of Ripplemark's absence. 
 It was said that the Vice-Chancellor, attended by a 
 cortege of Heads of Houses and Doctors of Di- 
 vinity, had taken the midnight train to London on 
 a mission of rescue. This rumour, with others of yet 
 darker import, met the members of the Contention 
 Club as they dispersed to their homes through the 
 otherwise silent streets. For the time being, interest 
 in Mr. Hooker's problem was submerged in com- 
 passion for the miserable plight in which the Regius 
 Professor was reported to be, and in speculation as 
 to its probable results. 
 
 Now, there is a well-known tendency in ancient 
 universities which brings all important discussions 
 
 371
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 to a dramatic climax in the question of "appoint- 
 ments." So it was in the present instance. The last 
 question the members of the Contention Club asked 
 one another before saying "good-night" was — "Who 
 will succeed Rifflemark?" 
 But what had happened? 
 
 Following Professor Ripplemark from the mo- 
 ment when he left Oxford on his fascinating errand, 
 we behold him, about four o'clock of the afternoon, 
 standing in front of a jeweller's window in Bond 
 Street, London. This is a new adventure, and 
 Ripplemark is not very sure of his powers to bring 
 the same to a successful issue. He will inspect the 
 shop window before going in. 
 
 There are many rings in the window, and the Pro- 
 fessor lingers in front of them, unable to make up 
 his mind. Then he walks up the street, comes back 
 to the shop window and lingers again. This time 
 two other gentlemen, very fashionably dressed, are 
 also looking into the window, apparently in the same 
 state of mind as himself. The street is crowded 
 with passers-by, and a large shining motor is wait- 
 ing opposite the shop door. 
 
 The two gentlemen are discussing an aigrette of 
 diamonds displayed in the window. Presently one 
 of them says to the other: "Why the devil don't 
 they put the prices on these things?" Then, turning 
 to Ripplemark, "I wonder if you, sir, have any idea 
 what that thing is worth." Ripplemark says that 
 he hasn't the ghost of an idea. At the same moment 
 two other gentlemen draw up, and begin inspecting 
 this and that. And there is a buzz of conversation 
 
 372
 
 AND FINDS HIMSELF IN ANOTHER 
 
 round the shop window, in the course of which one 
 of the gentlemen proposes to the other three that 
 they should all dine together at the Carlton Club. 
 
 Ripplemark now detaches himself from the group 
 to enter the shop, but pauses for a moment to make 
 way for a lady in sables, who is passing out of the 
 door on her way to the shining motor, a small satchel 
 tightly clasped in her hand. 
 
 At the same instant a violent shock from behind 
 flings Ripplemark full against the lady, who would 
 be knocked down, were it not that two of the gentle- 
 men are now on the other side, gallantly supporting 
 her. For three seconds, no more, the six figures 
 form a bunch; there is just time for the lady to give 
 a scream, and Ripplemark finds himself standing 
 by her side alone. 
 
 "You've snatched my satchel," she gasps; "you 
 passed it on to the other men!" And with that she 
 becomes speechless and faint. 
 
 A powerful chauffeur has his grip on Ripplemark's 
 collar; a crowd is gathering; a whistle is blown; two 
 policemen are hurrying up. Ripplemark wrenches 
 himself free from the chauffeur; but the two police- 
 men have him; the lady says, "Yes, I am sure that's 
 the man," and almost before he knows what has 
 happened the author of The Moral Will is in a 
 taxicab, with a police officer on either side of him, 
 on his way to Bow Street Station. 
 
 On the way to the station Ripplemark says not a 
 word, recovering from the shock and collecting his 
 wits. At the station he says quietly that a mistake 
 has been made, informs the police who he is, produces 
 his card. He explains why he was waiting outside 
 
 373
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 the shop. All which information the police receive 
 with due professional reserve. 
 
 Meanwhile, in another room, the lady in sables 
 is stating that she can swear to the man; that she 
 saw him watching her when she entered the shop; 
 that it was he and no other who flung himself upon 
 her; that she felt his hand on hers as it was holding 
 the satchel; that she saw the satchel pass from him 
 to another; that it contained pearls worth £3,000. 
 The chauffeur corroborates. He saw Ripplemark 
 waiting — a long time; he saw the others come up to 
 him; he saw them all in earnest conversation; he did 
 not see the satchel snatched; but the man, when he 
 collared him, made violent efforts to escape. 
 
 The police express intelligent hesitations. But 
 this only makes the lady more indignant. She will 
 not yield a hair's-breadth. She is a great personage, 
 and this is not the first time her jewels have been 
 stolen. What did the police do for her last year 
 when the burglars ransacked her dressing-room? 
 Nothing! But now they have caught the thief red- 
 handed and they shall not let him go! She has no 
 doubt it is the same man, the dressing-room burglar 
 — someone familiar with her movements. She in- 
 sists on charging him with stealing her pearls — value 
 £3,000. And the long and short of it is that the 
 Regius Professor of Virtue must face the charge 
 to-morrow morning, and be kept under lock and key 
 meanwhile. Yes, he may send telegrams. But 
 these things have taken time. 
 
 So Ripplemark spent the night in the cells, leav- 
 ing the Oxford Contenders to solve Mr. Hooker's 
 problem as best they could. And a most miserable 
 
 374
 
 AND FINDS HIMSELF IN ANOTHER 
 
 night it was. Insects attacked his body and gloomy 
 thoughts possessed his mind. But a stout heart, a 
 sound philosophy and a clean conscience carried him 
 through. And from time to time his thoughts would 
 go back to a magnificent ring, blazing with sapphires 
 and diamonds, which he had seen in the shop win- 
 dow. Margaret would have to wait a little longer, 
 but, by heaven, she should have that ring! This 
 thought gave him great consolation. 
 
 Next morning he was of course discharged. A 
 priori improbability overwhelmed the evidence of the 
 senses, which was dead against him. But his extrica- 
 tion was not altogether easy. The evidence of the 
 lady, of the chauffeur and of some passers-by was 
 positive and consistent, and yielded nothing under 
 cross-examination. The wearer of sables was furious 
 at the magistrate's decision and made a scene, in 
 course of which she did not hesitate to tell the magis- 
 trate what she thought of the intelligence of the 
 Court J for she was a woman of fiery spirit and fluent 
 speech. She remains convinced to this day that 
 Ripplemark was the thief, and has imparted that 
 conviction to many of her friends. Nor was the 
 public fully satisfied. There were biting comments 
 in the gutter press. "If the accused had been a man 
 of the people instead of belonging to a protected 
 class," etc. etc. 
 
 That Oxford could be anything but loyal to its 
 Regius Professor, in these distressing circumstances, 
 would of course be inconceivable. All the sporting 
 instincts of the University rallied to his side. None 
 the less, with his reputation for "Bolshevism," which 
 he had recently acquired for no reason in particular, 
 
 375
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 and with the rumours that began to fly about of his 
 relations with Hooker, not to speak of his other 
 peculiarities, the opinion gained ground that his 
 resignation would not be an altogether untoward 
 event. Outside Oxford the feeling was that 
 "policy" imperatively demanded a new Regius Pro- 
 fessor of Virtue, one, preferably, whom no wearer of 
 sables suspected of stealing her pearls. And there 
 was another person who, for reasons quite different, 
 had no doubt about the matter, and did not hesitate 
 to say so. "Dearest," wrote Margaret Wolfstone, 
 "you must resign. I shall love you all the more 
 
 when " But the rest shall be silence. 
 
 Professor Ripplemark was long in doubt as to his 
 course of action. For once, the V.C. and the LL.D. 
 were evenly matched, and pulled in opposite direc- 
 tions. The V.C. said, "Stick to your guns." The 
 LL.D. said, "Resign." 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Hotblack, the psychologist, was 
 working overtime. His private room was at all 
 hours of the day the least disturbed in the Office of 
 Rumbelow, Stallybrass & Corker j but when the staff 
 had gone home and the premises were closed, it was 
 one of the quietest nooks in the universe. Here, 
 night after night, you might see him immersed in 
 the profoundest studies, but always punctually sus- 
 pending his labours when the great clock of Smoke- 
 over Cathedral, made by Mr. Hooker's father, 
 boomed out the last stroke of twelve. 
 
 What was he doing? 
 
 Acting under Mr. Rumbelow's orders he was en- 
 gaged in translating the brutal treatment which Fate 
 
 376
 
 AND FINDS HIMSELF IN ANOTHER 
 
 had just inflicted on a Professor of Virtue into terms 
 of a spiritual experience. 
 
 To say that Mr. Hotblack found his task an easy 
 one would be doing injustice to his great talent as a 
 psychologist. His grasp of the science was suffi- 
 ciently comprehensive to reveal the difficulty of the 
 problem before him. But he did not despair. He 
 remembered how the accident on the railway, after 
 resisting all the solvents he had applied to it, had 
 suddenly yielded a spiritual meaning at a moment 
 when he least expected it. Still he was perplexed. 
 
 One night, when the eagerness of his countenance 
 and the rapidity of his work seemed to indicate that 
 he was on the track of a solution, he took down his 
 telephone and rang up the Chief. 
 
 "I am glad to report, sir," said Mr. Hotblack 
 through the instrument, "that the signs of a musical 
 structure are beginning to disclose themselves. At 
 the same time there can be no doubt that Professor 
 Ripplemark's mishap has struck a discord, the exact 
 relation of which to the underlying theme I have yet 
 to discover. The data for a solution will not be 
 complete until the question of his resignation has 
 been finally determined. In my judgment it is 
 important that this question should be settled in con- 
 cert by all the parties concerned in bringing about 
 the present situation. They should all meet face to 
 face. If I may venture to make the suggestion, I 
 submit to you and My Lady that such a meeting be 
 arranged without delay in your own house." 
 
 In consequence of this suggestion Mr. Hotblack, 
 attired in the evening dress he wore so seldom, found 
 himself some days later at the dining-table of his 
 
 377
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 Chief, Professor Ripplemark and Miss Wolfstone 
 on either side of him, and in front My Lady, Mr. 
 Rumbelow and Mr. Hooker. For the table was 
 round. 
 
 "Has it occurred to you. Professor," asked Mr. 
 Hotblack, while dinner was in progress, "that the 
 Board of Directors outlined in your Moral Will is 
 in actual being at this moment, and is holding its 
 first meeting round this table?" 
 
 "It has," replied Ripplemark. "And it strikes 
 me as passing strange that the first business the 
 Board should have to transact is the question of my 
 resignation as a Professor of Virtue." 
 
 "A sure sign of orchestration^^ whispered Mr. 
 Hotblack. "I attach the greatest importance to it. 
 This, sir, is the beginning of great developments. I 
 feel the moment full of promise. It will lead on, 
 sir, to the most beautiful variations!" 
 
 Here Mr. Hotblack, forgetting for the moment 
 where he was, began to hum the theme of one of his 
 favourite sonatas j but checked himself immediately. 
 
 Then the conversation became general, but so en- 
 tangled that even the Immortals cannot report it 
 correctly. Moreover, My Lady, overjoyed at the 
 impending union of Ripplemark and Miss Wolf- 
 stone, would constantly raise the level of the discus- 
 sion to heights of Beauty remote from its starting 
 point, and introduce remarks which it is not lawful 
 to repeat. But Mr. Hotblack lost not a word of 
 what she said. 
 
 Towards the end attempts were made to sum up, 
 and the conditions became easier for the reporters. 
 
 "Unquestionably," Mr. Hooker was heard to 
 
 378
 
 AND FINDS HIMSELF IN ANOTHER 
 
 say, "the University of Oxford will have greater 
 freedom to affirm its personality in its own way if 
 Ripplemark affirms his by resigning the Professor- 
 ship." 
 
 To which Mr. Rumbelow added: 
 
 "My dear Ripplemark, the loyalty which Oxford 
 has shown to you is magnificent. It fills me with 
 admiration for the University and with hope for the 
 future of civilization. I intend to set aside a large 
 sum of money for the purpose of sending young men 
 to Oxford. But sportsmanlike principles forbid us 
 to put too great a strain on the loyalty of our friends, 
 especially when their loyalty to us is itself the highest 
 expression of sportsmanship. You must resign." 
 
 "And then," said Miss Wolfstone, "our League 
 of Outcasts will become an accomplished fact." 
 
 At which Mr. Hotblack, unable as usual to re- 
 strain himself at a critical moment, jumped to his 
 feet and cried: 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen, the proof of orchestra- 
 tion is now complete!" 
 
 So Ripplemark resigned. He was the first Regius 
 Professor of Virtue in the University of Oxford. 
 And the last. 
 
 379
 
 PART FIVE 
 
 The Legend of the League
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 A Den of Thieves 
 
 I SUPPOSE," said Ripplemark, "that the ulti- 
 mate ground of the alliance between you 
 and me lies in the fact that both of us are engaged in 
 ^speculation^ — you as a gambler, and I as a Professor 
 of Virtue." 
 
 "You mean as an ex-Professor," said Rumbelow. 
 "Don't forget that you have won a new reputation 
 as a Stealer of Pearls. From the world's point of 
 view both of us are thieves." 
 
 "Yes," said Ripplemark j "and when the time 
 comes for us to be crucified I wonder whom the world 
 will find to crucify between us." 
 
 At this remark the two men paused in their walk 
 and leant over the balustrade, gazing in silence into 
 the blue distance, where the first signs of a storm 
 were gathering on the horizon. It was an evening 
 in late September. They had been walking up and 
 down the terrace of Rumbelow's Castle, awaiting 
 the other members of the party. Margaret and 
 Hooker had gone out into the park to meet My 
 Lady, returning from the Sanctuary, where, at that 
 hour of the day, she was always engaged in private 
 devotion. 
 
 Presently Rumbelow said: 
 
 "We are a den of thieves, Ripplemark. Thief is 
 
 383
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 the mildest of the terms The Tracker is now applying 
 to Margaret. Hooker has been called a thief ever 
 since he made his fortune. As to My Lady, she, of 
 course, is the arch-thief of the gang." 
 
 "That makes five crosses," said Ripplemark. "It 
 will be a bloody spectacle. And I see now who will 
 be in the middle. When the women acquired their 
 rights they forgot that they were acquiring the right 
 to be crucified along with the rest of their new 
 privileges." 
 
 "They have enjoyed it a long time," said Rum- 
 below, "but not officially. They make good vic- 
 tims. But what in the name of heaven has started 
 us on this Via Dolorosa?" 
 
 "It was the cloud on the horizon. Unless My 
 Lady makes haste with her devotions the tempest 
 will overtake her. — But tell me, Rumbelow, what 
 is to be the next speculation of the Firm?" 
 
 "The League of Nations," answered the book- 
 maker. "Our agents have been pursuing inquiries 
 all over the world, and the Department of Foreign 
 Information has been at work night and day." 
 
 "And what are the odds on the League?" 
 
 "Zero. Nothing doing. No race. No odds to be 
 declared. We have declined to put the speculation 
 on our books unless the data can be radically altered." 
 
 "What are the data?" 
 
 "Hopeless at present. Twenty-seven different 
 countries have been canvassed by skilled investiga- 
 tors and the result is the same in every case." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 ^^Briefly this. Each of the twenty-seven is eager 
 to have world-authority imposed on the other 
 
 384
 
 A DEN OF THIEVES 
 
 twenty-six, but not one of them is willing to have 
 world-authority imposed upon itself. A complete 
 deadlock, of course. The horses won't start, the 
 jockeys are all on strike, and every prospect of a 
 riot on the course. So we've written it off — for the 
 present." 
 
 "You were right," said Ripplemark. "My own 
 speculations have been moving on lines that con- 
 verge to the same result. The League of Nations 
 in its present form is a league of those who want to 
 govern but object to being governed — the universal 
 formula of human nature. It is the reductio ad 
 ahsurdum of the fatal problem of power, round 
 which the history of civilization has moved in a 
 vicious circle for five thousand years, and which has 
 never been solved and never can be, for the simple 
 reason that men are not made either for exercising 
 power over their fellows, or for submitting to it 
 when it is exercised over them by others. It de- 
 moralizes the rulers and turns the ruled into rebels. 
 The problem of power has never advanced one 
 hair's-breadth beyond the point where Plato left 
 it, and he left it only half solved. He, as you know, 
 attacked the question of breeding men who are fit 
 to exercise power over others. But what on earth is 
 gained by doing that, unless at the same time you 
 breed another class who are willing to submit to the 
 power exercised by the first? This is the crux of 
 the whole matter, and the rock on which the League 
 of Nations is splitting at the present moment. And 
 sooner or later civilization itself will split on the 
 same rock, unless somebody can find a way round." 
 
 "I strongly suspect," said Rumbelow, "that the 
 
 385
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 origin of this delusion about power, which infects 
 the whole of our civilization, lies in ideas about the 
 government of the universe. My experience as a 
 gambler has convinced me that the universe is not 
 governed at all. — Not that I am any more of an 
 unbeliever than you are. My religion is My Lady's, 
 or at least an echo of it, and she, as you know, wor- 
 ships the Holy Spirit j I have no doubt she is engaged 
 in conversation with it at the present moment. Well, 
 as I said, the universe is clearly not governed. A 
 year's experience in our Office would convince any 
 sane man that the relation of the Spirit to the world 
 is that of a lover to his beloved, or of a creative 
 artist to a wild mass of unpromising material out of 
 which he is perpetually evoking, by a divine and 
 loving art, the most surprising and beautiful com- 
 binations — anything but the relation of a power- 
 loving potentate to his subjects, which is the very 
 last thing that should be thought of in such a con- 
 nexion. It passes my comprehension, Ripplemark, 
 to understand how the idea of power should have 
 become the dominant idea of religion, as it plainly 
 is in the religion of the West — though not, I think, 
 in that of the East." 
 
 "You have put your finger on the root of the 
 evil," said Ripplemark, "and it is another point on 
 which our respective types of speculation converge. 
 As to the origin of the fiction of power, I am inclined 
 to think that the Western world took it over from the 
 old Hebrew religion, whose God was a fighting 
 potentate — "a man of war," "the Lord of Hosts" — 
 who has since been made into the ally of all the self- 
 righteous bullies in the world. Hence the belief 
 
 386
 
 A DEN OF THIEVES 
 
 with which the Western mind is, one might almost 
 say, besotted, that the relation of the Spirit to the 
 universe is that of ruling it, which of course would 
 be appropriate if the universe were a military organ- 
 ization, but not otherwise. The belief was born and 
 nurtured in the atmosphere of war, and is plainly 
 related to the needs of war-making states. The 
 truth is, my dear Rumbelow, that the philosophy 
 of the West, and the morality derived from it, are 
 militaristic through and through. It all starts from 
 the conception of a cosmic commander-in-chief, 
 ruling the universe under a system of iron law, 
 appropriate to an army but altogether opposed to 
 humane relationships j and from thence the idea 
 has been carried down through the whole range of 
 our institutions, society itself being constructed upon 
 it, with the result that war, domestic and foreign, 
 never ends. A fool can see how it affects morality. 
 When a man hears that he has been made in the 
 image of God he inevitably thinks of himself as a 
 little potentate and begins to bully his neighbours. 
 Was there ever such an imbecility? This was pre- 
 cisely the point at which Christ and the most en- 
 lightened of his apostles attacked the military 
 religion of his day, and of course they crucified him 
 for his pains — as they will crucify you and me when 
 they catch us. For, mark you, my friend — the 
 moment the Scribes and Pharisees of our day learn 
 what we are after, it will be denounced as subversive 
 of all morality." 
 
 "They will have to reckon with Rumbelow, Stally- 
 brass & Corker," said the bookmaker, "and we shall 
 not prove so easy to catch. The Firm did not exist 
 
 387
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 in the days of Christ and his apostles. And that 
 makes all the difference. But this 'way round' that 
 you spoke of. Does it exist?" 
 
 "I believe it does," said Ripplemark. "You 
 know the constitution of my University." 
 
 "It is admirable," said Rumbelow, "and almost 
 identical with the constitution of our Firm." 
 
 "Well, there you have the two ideas of 'teaching' 
 and 'ruling.' But observe, Rumbelow, the order 
 in which they stand. 'Teaching' is primary, 'ruling' 
 is secondary. That is to say, we teach, not in order 
 to bolster up a system of University discipline, but 
 we apply discipline only so far as is needed to pro- 
 mote the ends of teaching. How does that strike 
 you as a model for the constitution of human society 
 in general?" 
 
 "Unquestionably the true model," said Rum- 
 below; "government a department of education in- 
 stead of education a department of government. I 
 know your formula. A thoroughly sportsmanlike 
 arrangement." 
 
 "And yet," said the ex-Professor, "when I mooted 
 the idea in our sporting University the Dons were 
 amazed, I was called a Bolshevist and the hint given 
 me that I ought to resign. But let that pass, and 
 grasp the principle — that the function of the best 
 towards what is not the best is, not to ruley but to 
 teach it J the superiority of one man or group over 
 others conferring no right to order inferiors about, 
 but an obligation to raise them to its own level. 
 That is what Margaret meant when she spoke of 
 aristocracy as the true form of education." 
 
 "I wish Margaret had used another term," said 
 
 388
 
 A DEN OF THIEVES 
 
 Rumbelow. "I am afraid ^aristocracy' will frighten 
 the Labour Party, who are rapidly moving towards 
 the Firm. And it may cause difficulties in America, 
 where we are establishing a new branch. But go on.'* 
 
 "Assuming, then, that the supremacy of the best 
 consists precisely in its determination to raise what 
 is not the best to its own level, instead of keeping it 
 down in a position of stereotyped inferiority, the 
 conception of power passes at once into that of educa- 
 tion. This now becomes the basis of all human 
 relations. The power basis is abolished, and power 
 takes its place as a subsidiary interest of mankind, 
 destined to become less and less important in pro- 
 portion as the major end is attained. From that 
 point the evolution of man breaks out in a new 
 direction. It has, in fact, already begun. A new 
 interest in education has burst out simultaneously 
 all over the world, one of the unexpected results 
 of the war. Every day it becomes more clamant, 
 and my belief is that it only needs businesslike han- 
 dling to end the malignant reign of power and to 
 become the dominant concern of the human race." 
 
 "Businesslike handling, and sportsmen to handle 
 it," said Rumbelow. 
 
 "Precisely. But can you supply them?" 
 
 "We can!" cried Rumbelow. "Listen to this, 
 Ripplemark. Our agents — in twenty-seven coun- 
 tries, remember — have sent in Reports which indi- 
 cate, without exception, that the world is on the eve 
 of a spiritual revolution, of the same nature as the 
 Revival of Learning in the fifteenth century, but 
 on an immensely greater scale and on far higher 
 ground. At the same time they show that tre- 
 
 389
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 mendous opposition is gathering. The holders of 
 power all over the world, so say the Reports, are 
 getting alarmed, and when they see what is coming 
 they will fight to the last ditch. But again they will 
 have to reckon with Rumbelow, Stallybrass & 
 Corker. You will understand that the mere fact 
 of the Firm selecting a candidate for favour makes 
 a difference to the candidate's chance of winning — 
 a point often overlooked by persons who are ignorant 
 of gambling. Know then, Ripplemark, that the 
 Schoolmaster is our selection! We are going to 
 back that horse against the whole field! We are 
 going to back it with all the influence, the skill, the 
 organization and the resources of the Firm!" 
 
 "That is the best news I have heard since I came 
 back from the war," said Ripplemark. "I thank 
 God anew that I was not killed, and am alive to see 
 this day! I have often despaired. The forces 
 against us are such that nothing can overcome them 
 save a league of all the venturesome spirits in the 
 world. But even so it will be a gamble against 
 tremendous odds." 
 
 "The Firm is prepared to undertake it none the 
 less," said Rumbelow. "We shall make it the 
 greatest sporting event of the ages. We shall 
 mobilize behind it the sporting instincts of all na- 
 tions. As you say, the gamble is at long odds. But 
 believe me, that when the preparations of the Firm 
 are completed the odds will come out very different 
 from what they are now. Of course we shall need 
 your help — the help of a mind which knows what 
 Education really is. And Margaret's for the same 
 reason. Both of you must join the new Board. 
 
 390
 
 A DEN OF THIEVES 
 
 We shall mobilize the sporting women as well as 
 the men — a vital point. Hooker is completely con- 
 verted and will be a tower of strength with his 
 Quaker mind. And My Lady — the heart and soul 
 of the enterprise, the link between us and the in- 
 visible world! By heaven, here she comes! And 
 just in time." 
 
 At this moment three figures were seen hurrying 
 across the park. 
 
 Rumbelow and Ripplemark, leaning over the 
 parapet that bounded the terrace on that side, and 
 pursuing their conversation, had forgotten the black 
 cloud that was slowly coming up against the wind. 
 But now great drops were beginning to fall, and 
 the three figures had barely gained the terrace before 
 a flash of lightning shot across the darkened land- 
 scape, a peal of thunder shattered the sky and the 
 fountains of the great deep were opened over- 
 head. 
 
 They were now within doors, and My Lady, fresh 
 from her devotions, was in high spirits. Margaret 
 and Ripplemark were in the window-seat, watching 
 the storm. The other three were gathered round 
 the fire. The spirit of joy was in the room, in har- 
 mony with the frolic of the Titans that was going 
 on outside. 
 
 "I have been quarrelling with Mr. Hooker!" 
 cried My Lady. 
 
 "About what?" asked Rumbelow. 
 
 "He has been asking my forgiveness!" 
 
 "For having introduced himself in a style so 
 original on the night of the accident?" 
 
 391
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 "How immensely stupid you are! " said My Lady. 
 "Mr. Hooker and I made that up long ago." 
 
 And without more ado she rose up from her 
 place, placed a low stool beside Mr. Hooker's chair 
 and sat down at his feet, resting her head against 
 his arm — a thing very beautiful to see, and not lost 
 upon those who saw it. 
 
 "And now," said Rumbelow, "that matter being 
 settled and all parties, including myself, fully satis- 
 fied with the terms of reconciliation, perhaps you 
 will tell us for what else Mr. Hooker has been 
 seeking forgiveness." 
 
 "I will save My Lady from answering," said 
 Hooker. "I have been asking her forgiveness for 
 talking too much about myself the last time we met. 
 And I ask it again." 
 
 "All honest men are interested in themselves," 
 said Rumbelow. 
 
 "So I told him," answered My Lady. "And we 
 are never more dishonest than when we try to con- 
 ceal it." 
 
 "Beware!" cried Rumbelow. "You are launching 
 My Lady on her favourite theme. She is a most 
 dangerous metaphysician, Mr. Hooker, and in a 
 moment more she will lead us into the wilderness,, 
 and we shall be lost in mazes where even Ripple- 
 mark cannot find us." 
 
 "It will be no new experience to me," said 
 Hooker. "Let My Lady go on." 
 
 "I often think," she continued, "that nothing so 
 clearly reveals the interest we take in ourselves as 
 the language we use about escaping from ourselves. 
 The sage who desires to be absorbed in the infinite 
 
 392
 
 A DEN OF THIEVES 
 
 always imagines himself standing by and enjoying 
 the spectacle of his own absorption. His interest in 
 himself takes that form. It strikes me as rather 
 flamboyant." 
 
 " 'Tis a form that flatters his vanity," said Rum- 
 below. "Being absorbed in the infinite is the equiva- 
 lent with these gentlemen of being raised to the 
 House of Lords. If they were really humble they 
 would be content to be absorbed into the common 
 clay." 
 
 "You are hatefully cynical," said My Lady. 
 "Will you never learn, Arthur, to be charitable to 
 philosophers? Theirs is the most tragic of all occu- 
 pations. Their desire to be absorbed in the infinite 
 is a sign of it. Who knows it better than the Stealer 
 of Pearls in the window-seat yonder?" 
 
 "You remind me, dearest," said Rumbelow, "that 
 the first time we met I thought the infinite was 
 absorbed in you. I was convinced of it!" 
 
 "I have the same impression now," said Hooker 
 with emphasis. "And I have had it before in the 
 presence of things less lovely." 
 
 The tone of solemn ardour in which Hooker spoke 
 seemed for an instant t© plunge the joyous current 
 into a silent pool. But My Lady passed it off with a 
 laugh and the merry waters went babbling on. 
 
 "Oh," she cried, "that is nothing out of the com- 
 mon! The infinite is absorbed in everybody. How 
 else would any human being be really lovable? The 
 same with everything that has a trace of beauty in 
 its composition — the edges of the clouds, the grada- 
 tions of colour in the wing of a bird, the song of 
 brooks, the veining of leaves and the small things 
 
 393
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 that lie about us in millions. But seriously, O 
 Stealer of Pearls, don't you think that the advice 
 philosophers give us to get rid of our finite selves 
 may become an affectation?" 
 
 "Most easily," answered Ripplemark, who, with 
 Margaret, had now joined the group. "But I hope 
 you will never get rid of yours." 
 
 "I shall never try," laughed My Lady, "since 
 the very act of trying would only make me a shal- 
 lower egotist than I am. Anyone who is interested 
 in his finite self to the point of wanting to get rid 
 of it must have an outrageous sense of his own im- 
 portance. Perhaps you have noticed, O Thief, that 
 when a man talks of being absorbed in the infinite 
 it is always his own absorption that attracts him and 
 not that of anybody else." 
 
 "Which proves how easily such men deceive them- 
 selves," said Ripplemark. "If they were as selfless 
 as they imagine they would be indifferent who was 
 absorbed so long as somebody was. But they always 
 want to be absorbed themselvesy and, as you say, they 
 imagine themselves present to see what is going on. 
 Indeed, My Lady, I regard this doctrine as the 
 supreme expression of human egotism. I have 
 heard of a man who actually set about it, and kept 
 a book in which he recorded day by day his progress 
 towards absorption in the infinite. I think he had 
 been converted to Buddhism. One day, reading 
 through what he had written in the book, he was so 
 appalled by the egotism it disclosed that he fell 
 
 m a swoon 
 
 •>■> 
 
 down 
 
 "He should have done that at the first and so 
 saved himself all the trouble," said Rumbelow. 
 
 394
 
 A DEN OF THIEVES 
 
 'Then you agree with me," said My Lady, "that 
 all our philosophy has its roots in the interest we take 
 in ourselves." 
 
 "It is an affectation to pretend otherwise," said 
 Ripplemark j "and the interest in ourselves deepens 
 at every stage of our reflection." 
 
 "I think it r'lses,^^ said My Lady. "But tell me, 
 Mr. Hooker, do tell me what your philosophy is. I 
 have long been eager to know it." 
 
 "It centres," said the millionaire, "on a simple 
 practical rule. 'So live that in affirming your own 
 self, you may help others to affirm theirs.' " 
 
 "We must have that in the Firm!" cried Rum- 
 below with great vehemence. "We must have that 
 in the Firm, Mr. Hooker! Do you mind repeating 
 it?" 
 
 Hooker repeated his formula. Rumbelow wrote 
 it down in a pocket-book, and gazed at the words, 
 deep in thought. 
 
 "I shall place that in the hands of our experts 
 to-morrow," he said. "It must be harnessed to the 
 businesslike method! It breathes the very spirit 
 of the Firm! What do you say, dearest?" 
 
 "It is the motto of the Firm in other language," 
 said My Lady. 
 
 "With immense scope for the sportsmanlike prin- 
 ciple!" cried Rumbelow. "Immense! And the 
 ideal aim is manifest. All that it needs is the busi- 
 nesslike method." 
 
 "The businesslike method will be understood," 
 answered Hooker j "but whenever you mention your 
 'sportsmanlike principle' the world will be mystified 
 and bewildered. It will strike a jarring note in vul- 
 
 395
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 gar minds. They will find it a discord, an impurity, 
 an adulteration. They will say it has no place in 
 the realm of the Good." 
 
 "It belongs to the realm of the Beautiful, where 
 all great enterprises are born and nurtured," said 
 My Lady. "It is another name for the high ro- 
 mance of the spirit. It marks the point where Law 
 turns into Love, and the prose of life becomes 
 poetry, and the music begins. Without it, Mr. 
 Hooker, your own philosophy would have no power 
 and no radiance. It would wither for lack of light 
 and joy, as all bare moralities have withered and 
 will wither to the end of time." 
 
 "Did I not say she was a dangerous metaphysi- 
 cian?" broke in Rumbelow. 
 
 "One of the most dangerous I have ever met," 
 said Ripplemark. 
 
 "It seems to me," Hooker continued, "that your 
 principle might be otherwise named. ^Sportsman- 
 like' breaks the connexion." 
 
 "On the contrary," said Rumbelow, "it is a bridge 
 between time and eternity. Of all the forces that 
 sway the life of man, the sporting instinct is the 
 easiest transformed into its spiritual equivalents." 
 
 "At least," said Hooker, "I can bear testimony 
 that it saved my life." 
 
 "And mine," said Rumbelow, with a glance at 
 Margaret. 
 
 "But it left me to drown," said Ripplemark. 
 
 "It died on Calvary," said Margaret. 
 
 "But rose again the third day," said My Lady. 
 
 "Amen!" said Mr. Hooker. 
 
 He spoke this word in a low and solemn tone. 
 
 396
 
 A DEN OF THIEVES 
 
 Barely had it passed his lips when a flash of forked 
 lightning ripped across the sky, leapt into the dark- 
 ening room and revealed the faces of the five to one 
 another. Then the rain lashed and beat upon the 
 window-panes, and a peal of thunder, bursting imme- 
 diately overhead, shook the great house to its foun- 
 dations. 
 
 Suddenly all became still and Rumbelow pursued 
 his theme. 
 
 "When the sporting instinct is absent, Mr. 
 Hooker, moral principles are invariably perverted 
 into instruments of iniquity. Witness the attack 
 upon Margaret. Witness the present relations of 
 states and governments. Their meanness and in- 
 humanity to one another are execrable; and each in 
 turn justifies injustice in the name of a perverted 
 moral principle. Your own maxim, good as it is, 
 would be unsafe in the hands of any man who was 
 not a sportsman at heart." 
 
 "I have often reflected," said Hooker, "how easily 
 bad men might capture my rule, twist it to their own 
 ends, and use it as a cover for the vilest mis- 
 deeds." 
 
 "All the highest truths are exposed to the same 
 danger. The sportsmanlike principle is their only 
 protection," said Ripplemark. 
 
 "They share it with life in general," said Rum- 
 below. "Unless our courage can face the risk of 
 being in the wrong we shall never find ourselves 
 in the right. Every great principle gambles with the 
 risks of its misapplication: and for that reason every 
 moral enterprise turns out to be a sporting proposi- 
 tion. There, Mr. Hooker, is the philosophy of the 
 
 397
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 Firm in a nutshell. You will observe that it is 
 complementary to your own." 
 
 "I must admit," said Hooker, "that the only per- 
 son I have known who took my principle seriously 
 is the woman who has just gone back to the window- 
 seat. To all the rest it was a mere theme for dis- 
 cussion. Whether they agreed with it or not, and 
 with most of them it was a point of honour not to 
 agree, it made no perceptible difference to their 
 daily lives." 
 
 "Be thankful it was no worse," said Rumbelow. 
 "If the devil had heard of your Principle he would 
 have adopted it at once and used it to make hell more 
 efficient." 
 
 "Silence!" cried My Lady. "We have had 
 enough cynicism for to-day. Mr. Hooker, you are 
 not the first propounder of great truths who has had 
 a woman for his chief disciple. Yours will not 
 betray you." 
 
 "Yes, dearest," said Rumbelow j "you have your 
 Jaels, but Judas is a peculiar product of the male 
 denomination." 
 
 At the mention of this name Mr. Hooker winced, 
 and looking at his watch declared that it was time 
 to dress for dinner. He left the room. 
 
 "What has happened to Mr. Hooker?" asked 
 Rumbelow, when he was gone. 
 
 "His wounds ache," said Margaret. 
 
 398^
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 "Les Beaux Esprits s'entendent" 
 
 "OILLIE SMITH, eldest son to the Professor 
 -^ of History in the University of Smokeover, 
 was lying outstretched in his bed, a much damaged 
 and disillusioned pacifist. His wounds were a black 
 eye, a torn scalp, a dislocated thumb and a broken 
 arm. By his bedside sat Margaret, nee Wolfstone. 
 
 "Father has forbidden us to play the League of 
 Nations any more," said Billie. "He says it's a dan- 
 gerous game. And he's cross with you for putting 
 us up to it." 
 
 "I'm very sorry, Billie. But tell me how it hap- 
 pened." 
 
 "It all ended in a regular set-to," said Billie. 
 
 "But who began it?" 
 
 "Ted. He took Germany after all. I took Eng- 
 land. We settled it beforehand that Ted was to 
 begin by repenting. But he was in the beastliest 
 temper you ever saw because he had to be Germany, 
 and wouldn't repent, and began hitting everybody. 
 And America took his side, and then Japan hit 
 America on the nose." 
 
 "And who gave you that dreadful black eye?" 
 
 "America. But I gave America one back!" 
 
 "And how did you get your broken arm?" 
 
 "Oh, the bull did that!" 
 
 399
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 "The bull! I thought he was in the next field — 
 the one where you played the Union of the 
 Churches." 
 
 "He was, but he got into ours. He saw us scrap- 
 ping, and Father says it excited him, and so he 
 broke through the hedge and charged bang into the 
 middle of us, before we saw he was coming." 
 
 "Did Ted get hurt?" 
 
 "Not much; only his new suit was spoilt. The 
 bull got his horn through the — under his jacket, 
 and mother's been mending his trousers ever since. 
 She says it's just ruined. And it cost Father ever 
 such a lot." 
 
 "We must ask Mr. Hooker to have that bull 
 chained up." 
 
 "I wish he would. You won't catch me playing 
 in those fields again while he's about! I say. Miss 
 Wolf stone — oh, I'm so sorry, I quite forgot 
 that " 
 
 "Call me Margaret, Billie," she said. 
 
 "All right, that'll be jolly. But I say, why does 
 the bull always charge us when we're playing at 
 being friends?" 
 
 "That's because you're only flaying^ Billie. If 
 you really meant it he wouldn't charge you." 
 
 "I don't understand that," said Billie. 
 
 Not long afterwards Margaret had important 
 business with Mr. Rumbelow in his private ofiice. 
 The business done, she took occasion to report to him 
 the foregoing conversation with Billie. 
 
 "It throws an interesting light on our problem," 
 said Rumbelow. "The bull is going to be our diffi- 
 culty. I shall set Hotblack to study his mind. But 
 
 400
 
 "LES BEAUX ESPRITS" 
 
 one thing is clear, Margaret. We must have that 
 boy in the Firm. He has in him the making of a 
 great sportsman. I shall approach his father at 
 
 once." 
 
 "I think," said Margaret, "that with little diffi- 
 culty we could get the father as well. He is by far 
 the most humane and sensible of that group, and, as 
 you know, an accomplished historian. We are weak 
 on the historical side, Arthur, and there is not a 
 doubt that Professor Smith would be a great acqui' 
 sition to the Firm." 
 
 As other Voices have told, there is nothing more 
 interesting to the candid mind than the strange link- 
 age of causes and effects by which great events are 
 brought about in this vast imbroglio which plain 
 men calj. Life, and philosophers Experience. One 
 would have thought that in the whole realm of 
 Moral Being no two institutions could stand further 
 apart from one another than the Firm of Mr. Rum- 
 below and the Smokeover Branch of the Society for 
 Ethical Culture. None the less it had been ordained 
 by the Contrivers of Sport that Billie Smith was to 
 act as a link, or point of contact, between the two. 
 Through his friendship with Margaret he won the 
 admiring notice of Mr. Rumbelow, who became 
 forthwith Billie's hero, not least on the ground of 
 his amazing talent in the invention of new games, 
 of which Billie was swift to take advantage. The 
 result was that Billie and his companions transferred 
 their scene of operations from Mr. Hooker's field 
 to Mr. Rumbelow's park, where there was no bull, 
 and where My Ladv and Margaret and three very 
 
 401
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 sympathetic gentlemen would sometimes watch the 
 games from the terrace. From this point no great 
 distance had to be traversed before Professor and 
 Mrs. Smith found themselves guests at Mr. Rum- 
 below's dinner table, and in the presence of that 
 radiant being whose beauty was only another name 
 for her goodness. Next, by a series of steps which 
 can be easily imagined, Professor Smith resigned the 
 Chair of History in the University of Smokeover 
 and became chief manager of the Historical Depart- 
 ment of Mr. Rumbelow's Firm, at a salary of £2,000 
 a year, and on the understanding that a stool in the 
 office should be kept vacant for Billie on the comple- 
 tion of his Oxford course, which Mr. Rumbelow 
 insisted upon his taking in due time. 
 
 Then began that strange process of absorption, 
 which is still astonishing the inhabitants of Smoke- 
 over and making a mock of all the prophets who have 
 ever appeared in that forward-looking city. To 
 begin with, all that was alive in the Ethical Society, 
 and there was a good deal, was gradually absorbed 
 into Mr. Rumbelow's Firm. Lucrative and con- 
 genial employment was found for the two agitators, 
 for the spiritualists, for the designer of women's 
 frocks and for Mr. Whistlefield, the champion of 
 the Simple Life. Nor was this all. To capture the 
 Ethical Society was to capture a position command- 
 ing the University and the Council of the High 
 School for Girls. Professor Smith was a member 
 of all three bodies, and there were other similar 
 pluralists. Hence it was that the public became grad- 
 ually accustomed to professorial secessions in the 
 direction already taken bv Professor Smith. In due 
 
 402
 
 «LES BEAUX ESPRITS" 
 
 course Professor Giles, the psychologist, and Pro- 
 fessor Marchbanks, the economist, both followed the 
 example of the historian, and the talk now is that, if 
 this kind of thing goes on much longer, Mr. Rum- 
 below's Firm will itself become the headquarters 
 of the University of Smokeover, though in a trans- 
 figured form, and under a new motto — that, namely, 
 of "ideal aims, businesslike methods and sportsman- 
 like principles." 
 
 But what had happened in Mr. Rumbelow's Firm 
 to render possible such startling changes? 
 
 At the great banquet which had marked the re- 
 opening of his business after the war Mr. Rumbelow 
 had promised the transfiguration of the Firm — 
 transfiguration without sacrifice of historical con- 
 tinuity. And he had kept his word. 
 
 To put the least thing first, the name of the Firm 
 had been changed. It was no longer "Rumbelow, 
 Stallybrass & Corker," but "Rumbelow, Hooker & 
 Ripplemark." 
 
 But this was nothing to the inner transfiguration 
 which had been accomplished by the fusion of minds, 
 or, as Ripplemark would say, through the gathering 
 together of "reciprocally interacting personalities." 
 
 The most remarkable instance of fusion was that 
 which had taken place between the speculative ideas 
 of Ripplemark and the sportsmanlike temperament 
 of Mr. Rumbelow. Ripplemark had imported into 
 the mind of the Firm the whole system of philosophy 
 which he had set forth in The Moral Willy not dis- 
 placing the philosophy of Rumbelow but assimilating 
 it as nourishment — a true syncretism. After con- 
 sultation with My Lady, who was fully in accord 
 
 403
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 with him, Ripplemark insisted that the first business 
 to be transacted by the new syndicate, or Board of 
 Directors, should be precisely that which he had 
 outlined in The Moral Will — the business, namely, 
 of establishing a fraternal community among the 
 nations of mankind. 
 
 The Seven Mighty Men were then summoned be- 
 fore the Board and informed by Rumbelow of the 
 business in hand. He told them that the first draft 
 of the enterprise would be left in their hands. In 
 seeking their model, he said, they were on no account 
 to copy the features of any existing government or 
 state. They were to look rather to the type of struc- 
 ture represented by a University — they were, in- 
 deed, to contrive a world-wide University, or 
 teaching institution, as the first form in which the 
 common interests of mankind might be correlated 
 and organized. 
 
 "In carrying out this commission," said Mr. Rum- 
 below, "you will remember that the word 'policy' 
 is not to appear. The Board has decided that the 
 idea connoted by this word is the mother of mean- 
 ness. From this time onwards it is discharged from 
 the vocabulary of the Firm. . . ." 
 
 "It is the intention of the Firm," he went on, "to 
 send mankind to school in whole communities, from 
 the old men to the children. You will therefore 
 deal with the nations first, as independent units and 
 as members of a common organism, the Board hav- 
 ing decided that it is idle to attack the reign of 
 ignorance elsewhere until it has been attacked on 
 international ground. From that high ground we 
 shall work downwards and inwards, tracking ignor- 
 
 404
 
 "LES BEAUX ESPRITS" 
 
 ance to its remotest lairs and pursuing it to the utmost 
 bounds of the shadow of death. 
 
 "You will base your work on the principle that 
 man's primary need is to be redeemed from his 
 ignorance. You will then proceed to correlate this 
 conception with Mr. Hooker's philosophy j that is 
 to say, you will devise for each nation in turn a form 
 of education by which it may learn so to affirm its 
 own personality as to help other nations to affirm 
 theirs. Having formulated your ideas in language 
 intelligible to all human beings you will pass on 
 your results, first, to our Propaganda Department 
 for world-wide transmission, then, to the Mathe- 
 matical Laboratory, when the odds on success will 
 be immediately computed. 
 
 "Meanwhile our other Departments will be over- 
 hauling every branch and variety of education in 
 its relation to the true end of man. The results, as 
 they come in, will be placed in your hands, and you 
 will at once proceed to co-ordinate them with your 
 international constructions, making such modifica- 
 tions as you may deem necessary to secure the ut- 
 most unity of the spirit with the utmost diversity of 
 operation in the progress of the human race. And 
 mark this especially: your conception of Progress 
 is to be governed throughout by the Motto of the 
 Firm. 
 
 "The preliminary odds in favour of success have 
 been reported from the Mathematical Laboratory as 
 2 to 1 . Encouraging as these odds are, they indicate 
 that we are far from the limit of absolute certainty. 
 The risk of bankruptcy and ruin has to be faced. 
 
 "Any intervals of leisure you may find, during 
 
 405
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 office hours, you will employ in meditating upon 
 this contingency and in taking counsel with one an- 
 other. In the event of our overthrow, under the 
 impact of brutal and unintelligent forces, the Board 
 will look to the Seven Mighty Men to do their 
 duty at the head of the Staff. We shall then all 
 perish together, as sportsmen should j the pageant 
 will be ended, the book of the Firm will be drowned 
 and not a wrack will be left behind. 
 
 "Finally you will bear in mind that the question of 
 our success in the visible world is regarded by the 
 Board as of little importance. It is only at the Un- 
 real End of Things, to which Smokeover and all its 
 villainies belong, that defeat can overtake an enter- 
 prise such as ours. Viewed from the Real World, 
 in which the Firm has laid its foundations, our over- 
 throw in the realm of shadows would be our victory 
 in the realm of substance, provided always that in 
 the moment of our downfall we quit ourselves like 
 sportsmen, thereby revealing to the world the eternal 
 dwelling-place of our designs." 
 
 On receiving these instructions the Seven Mighty 
 Men said through their spokesman, "We under- 
 stand" j bowed low to My Lady and retired from the 
 Board Room. They were not in the habit of making 
 speeches. 
 
 The next step was to overhaul the entire machinery 
 of the Firm, to examine each one of its endless rami- 
 fications, with a view to introducing such changes in 
 detail as the new enterprise might require, so that, 
 when the hour was ripe, this immense complex of 
 interacting forces might be turned on, in its business- 
 like majesty and irresistible momentum, to the work 
 
 406
 
 "LES BEAUX ESPRITS" 
 
 in hand. Finally, the cloud of telegraph wires over- 
 head was minutely inspected, a thousand new ones 
 were added, and orders given for the erection of a 
 wireless apparatus that would command half the 
 world. 
 
 All being reported in perfect order the Head 
 Mathematical Expert was called into the Board 
 Room, where a long conversation took place between 
 him and Mr. Rumbelow in the technical language 
 of betting. The upshot was that the Expert under- 
 took to report the odds, hour by hour, on each im- 
 portant step undertaken by the Board. 
 
 "The Board," said the Expert, "will be interested 
 to learn that, though the Department has not yet 
 completed its calculations, we have been able to 
 arrive at a more accurate estimate of our chances. 
 On the data now before us the Department gives the 
 odds on the whole enterprise as 3 to 1 in favour of 
 success. I state these figures under reserve. They 
 are subject to revision according to the march of 
 events." 
 
 "Remember," said Rumbelow, in dismissing him, 
 '^that you are responsible for maintaining the histori- 
 cal continuity of the Firm." 
 
 "Such were the inner transfigurations. The touch 
 which gave them their final form was the touch of 
 Maurice Ripplemark, author of The Moral Will, 
 ex-airman, ex-Professor of Virtue, LL.D. and V.C. 
 To him more than to any other, always excepting the 
 paramount influence of My Lady, may be attributed 
 the process of absorption by which the Smokeover 
 Branch of the Society for Ethical Culture lost its 
 finite self in the larger whole of that nefarious un- 
 
 407
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 dertaking which, a few months before, it had peti- 
 tioned both Houses of Parliament to suppress. 
 Hence, also, that growing desire on the part of the 
 local University to co-operate with the Firmj hence 
 that growing ambition in all its Professors to be 
 transferred to the world-wide form of the Service 
 which Rumbelow, Hooker & Ripplemark were busy 
 in creating. To surround the undertaking with the 
 University atmosphere was indeed no small part of 
 Ripplemark's contribution to the operations of the 
 Firm, a result which might never have been achieved 
 but for his accession to the Board. He himself was 
 thoroughly at homej more at home, he would often 
 say, in his Smokeover office, where the Moral Will 
 was being acted, than in his Oxford lecture room, 
 where he used to discuss its implications. Indeed he 
 would thank God that he had gone into business, and 
 with especial fervency when Margaret was working 
 by his side. At these monents a new vision of relative 
 values would break forth within him. He could 
 hardly resist the belief that he was again flying at 
 a great altitude, the mountains beneath him no bigger 
 than mole hills and Smokeover a mere smudge on 
 the surface of the earth. Yet all this time the lady 
 in the sable coat was firmly persuaded that Ripple- 
 mark had stolen her pearls. 
 
 Each of the Directors placed the whole of his 
 capital in the Firm. Rumbelow's stake was vastly 
 in excess of the equal portions brought in by the other 
 millionaires. But this made no difference, save that 
 the bookmaker was voted to the Chair as the greatest 
 Master of them all in things appertaining to the 
 Sportsmanship of the Spirit. 
 
 408
 
 "LES BEAUX ESPRITS" 
 
 Every meeting of the Board brought the Five 
 together in a deeper loyalty to one another. It was 
 observable, too, that as they came to know each other 
 better a kind of telepathy grew up between them, 
 so that all five would frequently come to the Board 
 with the same proposition on their lips. Nay, it 
 sometimes happened that the Five, on sitting down 
 to the table, would simultaneously anticipate the 
 odds for the day before they had been reported by 
 the Head Mathematical Expert, which seems to 
 suggest that telepathy was at work through the en- 
 tire Office. Margaret was the first of the Five to 
 notice this strange phenomenon. But she kept these 
 things in her heart. 
 
 She, in the meantime, worked steadily at her Play, 
 the hope of the Firm being that by next Christmas, 
 or by the next after that, it might be produced in 
 the Hall of Silence by the greatest actors of the day, 
 and all Smokeover invited to the performance. At 
 first she had found the theme quite unmanageable, 
 the scene of action too undefined, the time data too 
 elusive, the forces at work too vast and amorphous 
 to submit to any kind of concrete personification. 
 For many weeks Margaret was buffeted in deep 
 waters, now swept by violent currents out to sea, 
 now caught in whirlpools, now driven towards the 
 black rocks where dead men's bones lay whitening in 
 the sun, swimming strongly, but doubting if she 
 would ever make the land. Then, as before, her 
 vision contracted. Why not dramatize the History 
 of the Firm itself, the clash of forces out of which 
 it had emerged, the interactions of its personalities, 
 and of all the Invisible Powers, dxmonic and divine, 
 
 409
 
 THE LEGENDS OF SMOKEOVER 
 
 which had guided its destinies — thereby holding the 
 mirror up to civilization itself? From the moment 
 she shaped it thus, the Play seemed to grow and 
 exfoliate by an irresistible impulse from within, so 
 that she suffered no further check, save now and 
 then, when the forces her art would control seemed 
 to eet out of hand and to rush onward with a will of 
 their own towards a tragic issue. At these moments 
 she would remember that the odds in favour of 
 success were only 3 to 1. Then a dark foreboding 
 would overcast her and she would lay down her 
 pen. 
 
 Mr. Hooker never misses a meeting of the Board. 
 But the ineluctable years are beginning to cell. The 
 stout old Puritan has fought his last battle against 
 principalities and powers. His work is done. Some- 
 times he forgets the question on the table and seems 
 to be conscious of nothing save My Lady's presence. 
 Sometimes he fails to answer when spoken to, lost 
 in the satisfaction of remembering that he has kept 
 the faith. Or again, at the end of a long sitting, 
 he will grow weary with the technicalities of business, 
 fall into a slumber and dream. He sees his wife 
 running forward to meet him with her arms ex- 
 tended. He sees his sons playing tennis in the clouds. 
 Or he is aboard the Ship of Great Souls j winds that 
 make no ripple on the sea are driving it forward j 
 My Lady is at the helm 5 Billie Smith in the crow's- 
 nest has just sighted land. Then a sound, faint at 
 first but coming nearer, breaks out from all points of 
 the compass 5 and the pirates, suspending their 
 labours, gather together and listen. It is the music 
 and dancing of an immortal world. 
 
 410
 
 "LES BEAUX ESPRITS" 
 
 The Voice had no more to say^ and the Author 
 knew that the Legends of Smokeover were at an 
 end. He knew it because, as the last word was 
 sfoken, the sequence was immediately taken up by 
 the m^usic and dancing which Mr. Hooker was hear- 
 ing in his dreams. The sound lasted for a m^oment 
 only; but the Author recognized the climax. So, 
 turning his back on the Bridge and on the River of 
 ForgetfulnesSy he placed his heavy m^anuscript under 
 his arm and fared forward into the Smokeover 
 streets, where the patter of ten thousand feet be- 
 tokened that Man was going forth to his work and 
 to his labour until the evening. 
 
 As he hurried to his hotel, where his absence all 
 night had given rise to some alarm, he was accosted 
 by a schoolboy, who said, in the most musical voice 
 imaginable: 
 
 "If you please, sir, would you mind telling me 
 the time." 
 
 Moved by a sudden impulse the Author asked 
 the boy his name, and learnt that it was Billie. He 
 then took out his watch; but there was no need to 
 tell Billie the time. For at that moment the great 
 clock of Smokeover Cathedral, which was im- 
 mediately overhead, struck the hour; and the deep 
 tones of the last stroke were still booming in the 
 air when suddenly there broke out an indescribable 
 din of syrens, hooters and steam-whistles, of bolts 
 shot back, of iron shutters thrown up, of massive 
 gates turning on their hinges, of doors opened, and 
 of m^ultitudes thronging in. . The day^s work had 
 begun, 
 
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