This Was Ivor Trent полностью

“Told you a damned lot, in my opinion,” Rendell admitted grudgingly.

Wrayburn regarded him intently.

“And—be frank, you understand—do you mean that my appearance doesn’t tell you a good deal?”

“No, not particularly. Of course——”

But Wrayburn leaned towards him, then asked quickly, indicating his clothes with a swift gesture:

“This suit—for instance—tie, shirt, and so on. Wouldn’t you guess, from their general neatness and all that—that this rig-out is the only one I possess? Wouldn’t you—wouldn’t you?” he asked, with lightning rapidity, the sudden flush invading his features and vanishing instantly. “You wouldn’t! Really! If you happened to notice me in the street, you’d think—would you?—that I was more or less a normal person? Would you? Say if you wouldn’t.”

“Yes, of course,” Rendell lied. “Why not?”

“That’s all right, then. I only wanted to know. So, if you saw me in the street, you’d think—there’s a student, rather a neat student. You would? That’s all right then.”

Rendell moved uneasily. Wrayburn was regarding him intently, although his right hand continued to supplicate his beard to greater endeavours. As Rendell saw it, this desire to be regarded as normal was significant. And it was pathetic.

Wrayburn made a swift motion of his hand, which was his method of indicating that another phase of their conversation had come to an end. Then he glanced at his watch.

“It’s still early, but, nevertheless, I propose to go now. I am not very well. It’s nothing. I know exactly how to deal with it. But, still, I think I shall go. I will meet you to discuss Trent shortly. Just one minute! I must think which day will suit me.”

He withdrew into himself and remained motionless for some moments with closed eyes.

“Next Sunday. No! next Monday. After dinner. It will probably be wet, so you had better come to my room. I am at 4, Waldegrave Road, Fulham—for the minute. No, don’t remember it—write it down. Here’s a pencil and a piece of paper.”

Rendell wrote it down.

Again Wrayburn’s fingers snapped like revolver-shots—till the waiter brought his coat and hat. He made entirely certain that they were dry, then put on his overcoat, refusing the waiter’s proffered assistance.

“Now, sir!” the latter exclaimed genially, turning to Rendell, who was waiting for his bill. “What shall we say? Three bob?”

“Very well,” Rendell replied. “Three bob.”

He gave the man three shillings and sixpence.

“I thank you. And now, you, sir——” the waiter went on. “Your bill is——”

“One and ninepence,” Wrayburn interrupted in a tone of finality. “I did not have that extra pat of butter.”

He gave the man one and elevenpence. Directly the waiter had retired, he turned to Rendell and said.

“Your bill was three shillings. Did you give the waiter sixpence?”

“I did. Why?”

“Fourpence would have been rather more than ten per cent. It’s people like you who spoil waiters for people like me.”

Rendell pondered this statement as he followed Wrayburn down the corkscrew stairway.

When they reached the pavement they discovered that it was raining heavily.

By a miracle, there was a taxi on the rank opposite. Rendell hailed it, then said to Wrayburn: “Could I take you as far as——”

“Jump in, jump in!” the latter exclaimed. “I’m getting wet.”

Rendell got in, then heard Wrayburn say to the driver in a tone of icy exactitude:

“Go, first, to 4, Waldegrave Road, Fulham. Then take this gentleman on to 77, Potiphar Street.”

During the next few days Rendell made the commonplace discovery that until events cease to present themselves in a never-ending sequence, leisure is lacking for an analysis of the more important of them. Thus, although he made several appointments with himself—at which he proposed to review his conversations with Rosalie Vivian, Vera Thornton, and Denis Wrayburn—he kept none of them owing to new and unanticipated demands on his time and curiosity.

The first of these was the discovery of the extraordinary relations existing between Captain Frazer and his wife. Soon after his arrival, Rendell had realised that these were far from normal, but their actual complexity was not revealed till the morning following his conversation with Wrayburn.

The manner of their revelation was somewhat dramatic, for Captain Frazer—having had a bitter dispute with his wife during breakfast—burst into Rendell’s room at an early hour and straightway proceeded to narrate the long history of his wrongs with hysterical vehemence.

When Rendell could obtain a hearing, he attempted to suggest that possibly Mrs. Frazer would object to the discussion of these intimate details with a stranger. But he got no further, as Frazer exclaimed: