Thomas Pitt Bluegate Fields

'Why are they doing it?' Pitt asked frankly. 'Why should they lie?'

'Spite-what else?' Jerome's voice was heavy with scom; scorn for the boys because they had stooped to dishonesty from personal emotion, and for Pitt for his stupidity.

'Why?' Pitt persisted. 'Why did they hate you enough to say something like that if it's not true? What did you do to them to cause such hatred?'

'I tried to make them learn! I tried to teach them self-discipline, standards!'

217

I                       'What's hateful about that? Wouldn't their fathers do the

^                   same thing? Their entire world is governed by standards,' Pitt

reasoned. 'Self-discipline so rigid they'd endure physical pain

p                   rather than be seen to lose face. When I was a boy, I watched

,'                    men of that class hide agony rather than admit they were hurt

and be seen to drop out of a hunt. I remember a man who was

,1                 terrified of horses, but would mount with a smile and ride all

$                   day, then come home and be sick all night with sheer relief that

_t                             he was still alive. And he did it every year, rather than admit he

hated it and let down his standards of what a gentleman should

i?                  be.'

'                      Jerome sat in silence. It was the sort of idiotic courage he ad-

mired, and it galled him to see it in the class that had excluded him. His only defense against rejection was hatred.

The question remained unanswered. He did not know why

the boys should lie, and neither did Pitt. The trouble was Pitt

¹                              did not believe they were lying, and yet when he was with Je-

rome he honestly did not believe Jerome was lying either. The thing was ridiculous!

Pitt sat for another ten minutes in near silence, then shouted

*,                   for the turnkey and took his leave. There was nothing else to

say; pleasantries were an insult. There was no future, and it

would be cruel to pretend there was. Whatever the truth, Pitt

owed Jerome at least that decency.

Athelstan was waiting for him at the police station the following morning. There was a constable standing by Pitt's desk with orders that he report upstairs instantly.

'Yes, sir?' Pitt inquired as soon as Athelstan's voice shouted at him to come in.

Athelstan was sitting behind his desk. He had not even lit a cigar and his face was mottled with the rage he had been obliged to suppress until Pitt arrived.

' 'Who the hell told you you could go on visiting Jerome?'' he demanded, rising from his chair to half straighten his legs and give himself more height.

Pitt felt his back stiffen and the muscles grow tight across his scalp.

218    '

'Didn't know I needed permission,' he said