pgw.uneasymoney-第18章

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　if　he's　been　throwing　eggs。　It　shows　he's　waking　up。'
　The　door　opened　and　Lord　Wetherby　entered。　He　looked　fatigued。　He　sank　into　a　chair　and　sighed。
　'I　cannot　get　it；'　he　said。　'It　eludes　me。'
　He　lapsed　into　a　sombre　silence。
　'What　can't　you　get？'　said　Lady　Wetherby；　cautiously。
　'The　expressionthe　expression　I　want　to　get　into　the　child's　eyes　in　my　picture；　〃Innocence〃。'
　'But　you　have　got　it。'
　Lord　Wetherby　shook　his　head。
　'Well；　you　had　when　I　saw　the　picture；'　persisted　Lady　Wetherby。　'This　child　you're　painting　has　just　joined　the　Black　Hand。　He　has　been　rushed　in　young　over　the　heads　of　the　waiting　list　because　his　father　had　a　pull。　Naturally　the　kid　wants　to　do　something　to　justify　his　election；　and　he　wants　to　do　it　quick。　You　have　caught　him　at　the　moment　when　he　sees　an　old　gentleman　ing　down　the　street　and　realizes　that　he　has　only　got　to　sneak　up　and　stick　his　little　knife'
　'My　dear　Polly；　I　wele　criticism；　but　this　is　more'
　Lady　Wetherby　stroked　his　coat…sleeve　fondly。
　'Never　mind；　Algie；　I　was　only　joking；　precious。　I　thought　the　picture　was　ing　along　fine　when　you　showed　it　to　me。　I'll　e　and　take　another　look　at　it。'
　Lord　Wetherby　shook　his　head。
　'I　should　have　a　model。　An　artist　cannot　mirror　Nature　properly　without　a　model。　I　wish　you　would　invite　that　child　down　here。'
　'No；　Algie；　there　are　limits。　I　wouldn't　have　him　within　a　mile　of　the　place。'
　'Yet　you　keep　Eustace。'
　'Well；　you　made　me　engage　Wrench。　It's　fifty…fifty。　I　wish　you　wouldn't　keep　picking　on　Eustace；　Algie　dear。　He　does　no　harm。　Mr　Sherriff　and　I　were　just　saying　how　peaceable　he　is。　He　wouldn't　hurt'
　Claire　came　in。
　'Polly；'　she　said；　'did　you　put　that　monkey　of　yours　in　the　garage？　He's　just　bitten　Dudley　in　the　leg。'
　Lord　Wetherby　uttered　an　exclamation。
　'Now　perhaps'
　'We　went　in　just　now　to　have　a　look　at　the　car；'　continued　Claire。　'Dudley　wanted　to　show　me　the　mutator　on　the　exhaust…box　or　the　windscreen；　or　something；　and　he　was　just　bending　over　when　Eustace　jumped　out　from　nowhere　and　pinned　him。　I'm　afraid　he　has　taken　it　to　heart　rather。'
　Roscoe　Sherriff　pondered。
　'Is　this　worth　half　a　column？'　He　shook　his　head。　'No；　I'm　afraid　not。　The　public　doesn't　know　Pickering。　If　it　had　been　Charlie　Chaplin　or　William　J。　Bryan；　or　someone　on　those　lines；　we　could　have　had　the　papers　bringing　out　extras。　You　can　visualize　William　J。　Bryan　being　bitten　in　the　leg　by　a　monkey。　It　hits　you。　But　Pickering！　Eustace　might　just　as　well　have　bitten　the　leg　of　the　table！'
　Lord　Wetherby　reasserted　himself。
　'Now　that　the　animal　has　bee　a　public　menace'
　'He's　nothing　of　the　kind；'　said　Lady　Wetherby。　'He's　only　a　little　upset　to…day。'
　'Do　you　mean；　Pauline；　that　even　after　this　you　will　not　get　rid　of　him？'
　'Certainly　notpoor　dear！'
　'Very　well；'　said　Lord　Wetherby；　calmly。　'I　give　you　warning　that　if　he　attacks　me　I　shall　defend　myself。'
　He　brooded。　Lady　Wetherby　turned　to　Claire。
　'What　happened　then？　Did　you　shut　the　door　of　the　garage？'
　'Yes；　but　not　until　Eustace　had　got　away。　He　slipped　out　like　a　streak　and　disappeared。　It　was　too　dark　to　see　which　way　he　went。'
　Dudley　Pickering　limped　heavily　into　the　room。
　'I　was　just　telling　them　about　you　and　Eustace；　Dudley。'
　Mr　Pickering　nodded　moodily。　He　was　too　full　for　words。
　'I　think　Eustace　must　be　mad；'　said　Claire。
　Roscoe　Sherriff　uttered　a　cry　of　rapture。
　'You've　said　it！'　he　exclaimed。　'I　knew　we　should　get　action　sooner　or　later。　It's　the　puma　over　again。　Now　we　are　all　right。　Now　I　have　something　to　work　on。　〃Monkey　Menaces　Countryside。〃　〃Long　Island　Summer　Colony　in　Panic。〃　〃Mad　Monkey　Bites　One〃'
　A　convulsive　shudder　galvanized　Mr　Pickering's　portly　frame。
　'〃Mad　Monkey　Terrorizes　Long　Island。　One　Dead！〃'　murmured　Roscoe　Sherriff；　wistfully。　'Do　you　feel　a　sort　of　shooting；　Pickeringa　kind　of　burning　sensation　under　the　skin？　Lady　Wetherby；　I　guess　I'll　be　getting　some　of　the　papers　on　the　phone。　We've　got　a　big　story。'
　He　hurried　to　the　telephone；　but　it　was　some　little　time　before　he　could　use　it。　Dudley　Pickering　was　in　possession；　talking　earnestly　to　the　local　doctor。
　
　14
　It　was　Nutty　Boyd's　habit　to　retire　immediately　after　dinner　to　his　bedroom。　What　he　did　there　Elizabeth　did　not　know。　Sometimes　she　pictured　him　reading；　sometimes　thinking。　Neither　supposition　was　correct。　Nutty　never　read。　Newspapers　bored　him　and　books　made　his　head　ache。　And　as　for　thinking；　he　had　the　wrong　shape　of　forehead。　The　nearest　he　ever　got　to　meditation　was　a　sort　of　trance…like　state；　a　kind　of　suspended　animation　in　which　his　mind　drifted　sluggishly　like　a　log　in　a　backwater。　Nutty；　it　is　regrettable　to　say；　went　to　his　room　after　dinner　for　the　purpose　of　imbibing　two　or　three　surreptitious　whiskies…and…sodas。
　He　behaved　in　this　way；　he　told　himself；　purely　in　order　to　spare　Elizabeth　anxiety。　There　had　been　in　the　past　a　fool　of　a　doctor　who　had　prescribed　total　abstinence　for　Nutty；　and　Elizabeth　knew　this。　Therefore；　Nutty　held；　to　take　the　mildest　of　drinks　with　her　knowledge　would　have　been　to　fill　her　with　fears　for　his　safety。　So　he　went　to　considerable　inconvenience　to　keep　the　matter　from　her　notice；　and　thought　rather　highly　of　himself　for　doing　so。
　It　certainly　was　inconvenientthere　was　no　doubt　of　that。　It　made　him　feel　like　a　cross　between　a　hunted　fawn　and　a　burglar。　But　he　had　to　some　extent　diminished　the　possibility　of　surprise　by　leaving　his　door　open；　and　to…night　he　approached　the　cupboard　where　he　kept　the　materials　for　refreshment　with　a　certain　confidence。　He　had　left　Elizabeth　on　the　porch　in　a　hammock；　apparently　anchored　for　some　time。　Lord　Dawlish　was　out　in　the　grounds　somewhere。　Presently　he　would　e　in　and　join　Elizabeth　on　the　porch。　The　risk　of　interruption　was　negligible。
　Nutty　mixed　himself　a　drink　and　settled　down　to　brood　bitterly；　as　he　often　did；　on　the　doctor　who　had　made　that　disastrous　statement。　Doctors　were　always　saying　things　like　thatsweeping　things　which　nervous　people　took　too　literally。　It　was　true　that　he　had　been　in　pretty　bad　shape　at　the　moment　when　the　words　had　been　spoken。　It　was　just　at　the　end　of　his　Broadway　career；　when；　as　he　handsomely　admitted；　there　was　a　certain　amount　of　truth　in　the　opinion　that　his　interior　needed　a　vacation。　But　since　then　he　had　been　living　in　the　country；　breathing　good　air；　taking　things　easy。　In　these　altered　conditions　and　after　this　lapse　of　time　it　was　absurd　to　imagine　that　a　moderate　amount　of　alcohol　could　do　him　any　harm。
　It　hadn't　done　him　any　harm；　that　was　the　point。　He　had　tested　the　doctor's　statement　and　found　it　incorrect。　He　had　spent　three　hectic　days　and　nights　in　New　York；　andafter　a　reasonable　intervalhad　felt　much　the　same　as　usual。　And　since　then　he　had　imbibed　each　night；　and　nothing　had　happened。　What　it　came　to　was　that　the　doctor　was　a　chump　and　a　blighter。　Simply　that　and　nothing　more。
　Having　e　to　this　decision；　Nutty　mixed　another　drink。　He　went　to　the　head　of　the　stairs　and　listened。　He　heard　nothing。　He　returned　to　his　room。
　Yes；　that　was　it；　the　doctor　was　a　chump。　So　far　from　doing　him　any　harm；　these　nightly　potations　brightened　Nutty　up；　gave　him　heart；　and　enabled　him　to　endure　life　in　this　hole　of　a　place。　He　felt　a　certain　scornful　amusement。　Doctors；　he　supposed；　had　to　get　off　that　sort　of　talk　to　earn　their　money。
　He　reached　out　for　the　bottle；　and　as　he　grasped　it　his　eye　was　caught　by　something　on　the　floor。　A　brown　monkey　with　a　long；　grey　tail　was　sitting　there　staring　at　him。
　There　was　one　of　those　painful　pauses。　Nutty　looked　at　the　monkey　rather　like　an　elongated　Macbeth　inspecting　the　ghost　of　Banquo。　The　monkey　looked　at　Nutty。　The　pause　continued。　Nutty　shut　his　eyes；　counted　ten　slowly；　and　opened　them。
　The　monkey　was　still　there。
　'Boo！'　said　Nutty；　in　an　apprehensive　undertone。
　The　monkey　looked　at　him。
　Nutty　shut　his　eyes　again。　He　would　count　sixty　this　time。　A　cold　fear　had　laid　its　clammy　fingers　on　his　heart。　This　was　what　that　doctornot　such　a　chump　after　allmust　have　meant！
　Nutty　began　to　count。　There　seemed　to　be　a　heavy　lump　inside　him；　and　his　mouth　was　dry；　but　otherwise　he　felt　all　right。　That　was　the　gruesome　part　of　itthis　dreadful　thing　had　e　upon　him　at　a　moment　when　he　could　have　sworn　that　he　was　sound　as　a　bell。　If　this　had　happened　in　the　days　when　he　ranged　the　Great　White　Way；　sucking　up　deleterious　moisture　like　a　cloud；　it　would　have　been　intelligible。　But　it　had　sneaked　upon　him　like　a　thief　in　the　night；　it　had　stolen　unheralded　into　his　life　when　he　had　practically　reformed。　What　was　the　good　of　practically　reforming　if　this　sort　of　thing　was　going　to　happen　to　one？
　'。。。　Fifty…nine　。。。　sixty。'
　He　opened　his　eyes。　The　monkey　was　still　there；　in　precisely　the　same　attitude；　as　if　it　was　sitting　for　its　portrait。　Panic　surged　upon　Nutty。　He　lost　his　head　pletely。　He　uttered　a　wild　yell　and　threw　the　bottle　at　the　apparition。
　Life　had　not　been　treating　Eustace　well　that　evening。　He　seemed　to　have　happened　upon　one　of　those　days　when　everything　goes　wrong。　The　cat　had　scratched　him；　the　odd…job　man　had　swathed　him　in　an　apron；　and　now　this　stranger；　in　whom　he　had　found　at　first　a　pleasant　restfulness；　soothing　after　the　recent　scenes　of　violence　in　which　he　had　participated；　did　this　to　him。　He　dodged　the　missile　and　clambered　on　to　the　top　of　the　wardrobe。　It　was　his　instinct　in　times　of　stress　to　seek　the　high　spots。　And　then　Elizabeth　hurried　into　the　room。
　Elizabeth　had　been　lying　in　the　hammock　on　the　porch　when　her　brother's　yell　had　broken　forth。　It　was　a　lovely；　calm；　moonlight　night；　and　she　had　been　revelling　in　the　peace　of　it；　when　suddenly　this　outcry　from　above　had　shot　her　out　of　her　hammock　like　an　explosion。　She　ran　upstairs；　fearing　she　knew　not　what。　She　found　Nutty　sitting　on　the　bed；　looking　like　an　overwrought　giraffe。
　'Whatever　is　the？'　she　began；　and　then　things　began　to　impress　themselves　on　her　senses。
　The　bottle　which　Nutty　had　thrown　at　Eustace　had　missed　the　latter；　but　it　had　hit　the　wall；　and　was　now　lying　in　many　pieces　on　the　floor；　and　the　air　was　heavy　with　the　scent　of　it。　The　remains　seemed　to　leer　at　her　with　a　kind　of　furtive　swagger；　after　the　manner　of　broken　bottles。　A　quick　thrill　of　anger　ran　through　Elizabeth。　She　had　always　felt　more　like　a　mother　to　Nutty　than　a　sister；　and　now　she　would　have　liked　to　exercise　the　maternal　privilege　of　slapping　him。
　'Nutty！'
　'I　saw　a　monkey！'　said　her　brother；　hollowly。　'I　was　standing　over　there　and　I　saw　a　monkey！　Of　course；　it　wasn't　there　really。　I　flung　the　bottle　at　it；　and　it　seemed　to　climb　on　to　that　wardrobe。'
　'This　wardrobe？'
　'Yes。'
　Elizabeth　struck　it　a　resounding　blow　with　the　palm　of　her　hand；　and　Eustace's　face　popped　over　the　edge；　peering　down　anxiously。　'I　can　see　it　now；'　said　Nutty。　A　sudden；　faint　hope　came　to　him。　'Can　you　see　it？'　he　asked。
　Elizabeth　did　not　speak　for　a　moment。　This　was　an　unusual　situation；　and　she　was　wondering　how　to　treat　it。　She　was　sorry　for　Nutty；　but　Providence　had　sent　this　thing　and　it　would　be　foolish　to　reject　it。　She　must　look　on　herself　in　the　light　of　a　doctor。　It　would　be　kinder　to　Nutty　in　the　end。　She　had　the　feminine　aversio