Anthony Lyveden Part 39

You'll have absolute power. I'm ready to give it you, if you're ready to take it. But you must wash sentiment out. The question of my helplessness mustn't weigh with you. You mustn't consider anything except yourself. If Gramarye means enough to you----"

"It does," said Lyveden.

"Are you sure?"

"There's nothing else in my life."

"Ah!"

His keen grey eyes glowing with the light of a visionary, Winchester stepped forward, and Lyveden got upon his feet. For a moment the two men looked one another in the face. Then Winchester s.h.i.+vered suddenly, put a hand to his head, and turned away....

The pathos of the gesture loosened Anthony's tongue.

"You know best, sir, and it isn't my place to try to dissuade you. Let the business go through. Once for all, whatever happens to you, I'll carry on. I'll do everything exactly as if you were there. You can rest easy. But---- Oh, how can you think such a thing? I never in all my life saw any one less likely to go under. You're not the type, sir. It's--it's laughable." The words came tumbling out of an honest heart. "I saw men go mad in France, but they were hardly your sort.

Perhaps you're too much alone. Will you let me live with you? Or, if it's insomnia----"

"It isn't insomnia," said the giant. "It's insanity."

Mr. Plowman, who was picking up the pen which for the second time had escaped the play of his trembling fingers, started violently and struck his head against the table. The absurd action attracting annoyed attention, he broke into a cold sweat.

"But you can't know that!" cried Anthony. "Only a doctor can----"

"What doctor would tell me the truth?"

"You needn't ask him. You can ask to be told the symptoms, and then compare them with yours. If they tally----"

"You speak as a child," said Winchester. "Insanity's not like chicken-pox. There's no book of the rules."

"I don't care. You can't possibly know. On a matter like this your own opinion's worthless. It's the one thing no man can say of himself: You can't judge your own judgment." Staring into the fire, Winchester began to tap the floor with his toe. "I've said I'll carry on, and you can put my name in, but I'm sorry I was so quick."

"Why?"

"Because I oughtn't to subscribe to this belief. It's all wrong. I'm admitting a possibility which doesn't exist. I'm humouring a dangerous whim. For over two months I've spent ten hours a day in your company--I've sat at your feet--I've marvelled at your wisdom--I've envied your instinct--I've been dazed by your amazing efficiency--and now I'm to put on record----"

With a stifled roar, Winchester threw back his head and beat with his fists upon his temples.

"You fool!" he raved. "Out of your own mouth.... The very wisdom you marvel at has shown me what you can't see. That instinct you say you envy has opened my eyes. I tell you I'm going mad. Time and again I've seen the writing upon the wall. I walk with Insanity of nights.

Three months ago I chucked my revolver into the lake, or I shouldn't be here to-day. You babble of madness; I tell you I know the jade. Why, there are nights when the stars slip and the world lies on her side, and only the woods of Gramarye keep me from falling off. I climb from tree to tree, man. They're like the rungs of a ladder, with their tops swaying in the wind over eternity and their roots stuck fast in a gigantic wall--that's the earth ... on her side ... They're sticking straight out like pegs. And sometimes I hear a roar coming, and the trees are bent like reeds, and the wind screams to glory, and the whole world turns turtle--swings right over and round. Think of it, man.

Twelve thousand miles in a second of time. And there are the stars on my right, and I'm climbing the wrong way up.... But Gramarye holds me fast. As long as I'm in the woods---- But the roads are the devil.

They make such a gap. You have to climb them to get to the other side.

The trees are child's play--they help you. But the roads ... I shall meet it on one of those roads ... one day ... one day...."

The deep sonorous voice faded, and with a whimper Mr. Plowman slid on to the floor.

It was Anthony who picked him up and carried the unconscious lawyer into the open air. As he was helping him to his feet, Winchester appeared with brandy.

"I was so engrossed," he said quietly, "that I never saw you go down.

Was the room too hot?"

Mr. Plowman gulped down some spirit before replying. Then--

"Yes," he said jerkily. "I--I think perhaps it was. I must apologize, sir."

Winchester inclined his head.

"You have your instructions," he said. "And you have seen Major Lyveden, and heard him consent to act. Prepare the necessary papers immediately and send them to me for signature. If any question arises, lay it before me by letter. If you must see me"--the unfortunate attorney blenched--"write and say so. I need hardly add that, with regard to what has pa.s.sed between us, I expect your observation of the strictest confidence."

"M-most certainly, sir."

"One thing more." An envelope pa.s.sed. "There is a cheque on account.

If on reflection you wish to take counsel's opinion, and that is not enough, write and say so." He put out his hand. "Good-bye. I'm much obliged to you for coming. I hope you'll be none the worse."

With starting eyes Mr. Plowman touched the great palm. Then his client turned, and, clapping a hat on his head, strode off into the wilderness.

As the sound of his footsteps died--

"There's a paper--in there--on the table," said Mr. Plowman. "And my hat and coat--and bag..."

"I'll get them," said Anthony.

"It's--it's very good of you."

When he returned, the lawyer had fastened his collar and was nervously bullying his tie into place.

"Have you a conveyance?" said Anthony.

"N-no, sir. I sent the fly away. I had thought I would walk back," he added miserably.

Clearly the chance of encountering Winchester was not at all to his taste.

"You'd better come with me," said Lyveden. "It's the quickest way to Girdle. I live in the cottage close to the London road."

Mr. Plowman felt inclined to put his arms round Anthony's neck....

Three-quarters of an hour later the little attorney stepped, with a sigh of relief, on to the King's highway. Going and pace had tried him pretty hard, and he was simply streaming with sweat. He pushed back his hat and blew out his cheeks comically. Then he set down his bag and started to mop his face.

"By Jove!" he said, panting. "By Jove, I'm glad to be----" His eyes resting upon Anthony, he broke off and fell a-staring. "Why," he cried, "you haven't turned a hair!"

Anthony smiled.

"I take a lot of hard exercise," he explained.

"By Jove!" said Mr. Plowman, wide-eyed. "Well, I'm awfully obliged to you."

"You've nothing to thank me for." Lyveden pointed to the cottage.

"That's where I live." He put out his hand. "Are you all right now?"

"Splendid, thanks. Can't think how I came to faint like that. Of course..."