knock on the door.
“Come in,” he said with some surprise.
Chastity came in, looking very prim and clean.
“What is it, child?” he was a little annoyed. He did not wish to talk.
“Uncle Reggie, Miss Waggoner says I must ask you if I wish to learn mathematics. Please, may I?”
“No. Whatever would you require mathematics for?”
“I would like to learn for the sake of learning,” she replied sedately. “You have said to me that it is good to do so.”
“They would be of no use to you,” he said decisively.
“Neither is painting, but you say I should learn it.”
“Painting is an art, that is quite different. Women should become proficient in some art or other: give them something to do when they grow up. Otherwise how will you employ your time?” That was faultless logic. She would have no answer for that. He faced her with satisfaction.
“I shall marry a policeman,” she said immediately. “And I shall be poor, so I shall have to keep my own house. It might be very useful to be able to do mathematics. I could deduce things.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” he snapped. Really, the child was becoming impossible. “Why ever should you marry a policeman?”
“Because I like them. I like Mr. Pitt. I should like to marry him, only he is already married. He was here again today. He was talking to Mary Ann. I don’t think he’ll ever find out who killed those babies, you know. He says so himself. It will just remain a mystery for ever and ever and ever. We shall all wonder who it was, and we shall think dreadful things about each other, and no one will ever know. When I grow to be very old, about fifty, I shall tell my grandchildren about it, and I shall say the square is haunted by crying babies who were murdered in olden times; that’s now; but it will be olden times by then, and nobody ever knew who did it. And we shall play games as to whom it might have been, and-”
“Stop it!” Reggie said furiously. He could not remember when he had last lost his temper, but this was monstrous. The child was talking nonsense, absurd, ridiculous, and frightening nonsense. She was raising visions of a never-ending bondage, a bloodsucking till he was empty, a fear to stalk him the rest of his life! “Stop it!” he shouted. “That’s not true! They’ll find out who it was. The police are very clever. They are bound to discover, and probably quite soon.” He could still feel his heart bumping, but it was not quite so uncontrolled now.
Chastity looked at him in surprise, but without losing her beastly composure.
“Do you think so, Uncle Reggie? I don’t. I think it will be a terrible mystery for ever and ever, and everyone will go around whispering about it. Can I learn mathematics, please?”
“No!”
“But I want to.”
“Well, you can’t!”
“Why not?” she asked reasonably.
“Because I say so. Now go up to bed. It must be your bedtime.”
“It isn’t, not for another hour yet.”
“Do as you are told, child. Go to bed.” He knew he was being completely arbitrary, but then one was not required to explain to children, or even to have an explanation. One could do as one pleased. It was good for children to learn to obey.
Chastity retired as she was told, but there was a look of disappointment in her eyes that was distinctly touched with contempt. The impertinence of it stung him.
He sat staring at the opposite chair, his thoughts going round with gathering momentum, and increasing unpleasantness. What if Chastity were right, and they never did find out who it was? They would go on talking about it-after all, why should they ever stop? Gossip was the lifeblood of women’s social round. What was not real or known must be invented! It was appalling, but it was true. Of course other subjects would arise, other scandals, no doubt; but at the slightest reawakening of any suspicions, this one with all its obscene speculation would be resurrected.
And Freddie, Freddie would know that, and thrive on it. Great God, he could be paying him for the rest of his life, being sucked of substance, by a bloody leech-a vampire! This was terrible!
He found himself standing up, without having been aware of rising. He must do something, that was beyond question. But what? His brain was like a cheese, no sense in it. He could not do it alone, that much was sure. He had no ideas. Who could help? Must not let Adelina know, she would blurt it out all over the place. Anyway, she was one of the ones he must keep it from. She would not understand about Mary Ann, still less about Dolly. She would make life intolerable for him. And he valued the comfort, above all else the ease and graciousness of his home. No ugliness or need for the labor of the outside world intruded into it, and he intended to keep it that way, at all costs. And of course for purely practical purposes, he must protect his position at the bank, it was a very lucrative and pleasant situation. He had influence.
But none of that was any use now, and he could see it slipping away from him, and leaving him naked to the chill of life’s harsh realities-no succulent foods, no great fires, deep chairs, summer afternoons with strawberries, servants for everything, parties whenever he wished; naked, like a great white animal without its fur or its shell, ready to be shriveled by the first winter blast.
He must get help. Who was the most practical person he knew, the most intelligent? The answer was quick to come to mind, without question, Garson Campbell.
And there was no time to be lost. Anyway, he could not possibly rest until he had done something about it, his mind was in turmoil. He rang for the footman to bring his coat. It was an abysmal night, and he loathed getting wet, but the discomfort inside him was infinitely worse, and growing more acute with each new thought that came to his mind.
He found Campbell in and willing to see him, although in view of the urgency with which he announced himself, he would have been very surprised had he not.
“Well, Reggie, what’s the panic?” Campbell said with a slightly caustic smile. “William seemed to think you were in something of a flap.”
“My God, Campbell, I’ve discovered something appalling!” Reggie collapsed into one of the other chairs and gazed up at Campbell with thumping heart. “Simply frightful.”
Campbell was unimpressed.
“Oh. I suppose you’ll need a glass of port to help you recover.” It was an observation, not a question.
Reggie sat up in the seat.
“I’m not joking, Campbell, this is damned serious!”
Campbell swiveled round at the sideboard to face him, perhaps struck by the timbre of his voice.
Reggie could feel panic welling up inside him. What if Campbell would not help?
“I’m being blackmailed!” he blurted out. “For money! At least it’s only money at the moment. God knows what it could grow into! Campbell, my whole life could be ruined! He could take everything, like a vampire at my throat, sucking out my life! It’s obscene, it’s frightful!”
At last Campbell was impressed, his face altered and a hardness, an attentiveness came into his eyes.
“Blackmailed?” he repeated, his hand still holding the port decanter, but absently, forgetting what it was.
“Yes!” Reggie’s voice was climbing higher and higher. “A hundred pounds!”
Campbell had control of himself again. His mouth turned down at the corners.
“That’s a lot of money.”
“You’re damned right it is. Campbell, what am I going to do? We’ve got to stop this sort of thing, before it takes hold.”
Campbell’s eyebrows rose slightly.
“Why ‘we,’ Reggie? I agree, blackmail is a nasty thing, but why should I involve myself?”
“Because it’s Freddie, you fool!” Reggie lost his temper again; he was badly frightened, their whole manner of life was threatened, and here was Campbell standing with port in his hand and a sneer on his face as if it were merely some minor inconvenience.
“Freddie?” There was steel in Campbell’s voice, a quite different tone. His face had stiffened, even his body. “Freddie Bolsover?”
