On that morning Archie had a farewell breakfast at his club with Doodles, and after that, having spent the intervening hours in the billiard-room, a farewell luncheon. There had been something of melancholy in this last day between the friends, originating partly in the failure of Archie’s hopes as to Lady Ongar, and partly perhaps in the bad character which seemed to belong to Jack Stuart and his craft. “He has been at it for years, and always coming to grief,” said Doodles. “He is just like a man I know, who has been hunting for the last ten years, and can’t sit a horse at a fence yet. He has broken every bone in his skin, and I don’t suppose he ever saw a good thing to a finish. He never knows whether hounds are in cover, or where they are. His only idea is to follow another man’s red coat till he comes to grief;—and yet he will go on hunting. There are some people who never will understand what they can do, and what they can’t.” In answer to this, Archie reminded his friend that on this occasion Jack Stuart would have the advantage of an excellent dry-nurse, acknowledged to be very great on such occasions. Would not he, Archie Clavering, be there to pilot Jack Stuart and his boat? But, nevertheless, Doodles was melancholy, and went on telling stories about that unfortunate man who would continue to break his bones, though he had no aptitude for out-of-door sports. “He’ll be carried home on a stretcher some day, you know,” said Doodles.
“What does it matter if he is?” said Archie, boldly, thinking of himself and of the danger predicted for him. “A man can only die once.”
“I call it quite a tempting of Providence,” said Doodles.
But their conversation was chiefly about Lady Ongar and the Spy. It was only on this day that Doodles had learned that Archie had in truth offered his hand, and been rejected; and Captain Clavering was surprised by the extent of his friend’s sympathy. “It’s a doosed disagreeable thing—a very disagreeable thing indeed,” said Doodles. Archie, who did not wish to be regarded as specially unfortunate, declined to look at the matter in this light; but Doodles insisted. “It would cut me up like the very mischief,” he said. “I know that; and the worst of it is, that perhaps you wouldn’t have gone on, only for me. I meant it all for the best, old fellow. I did, indeed. There; that’s the game to you. I’m playing uncommon badly this morning; but the truth is, I’m thinking of those women.” Now as Doodles was playing for a little money, this was really civil on his part.
And he would persevere in talking about the Spy, as though there were something in his remembrance of the lady which attracted him irresistibly to the subject. He had always boasted that in his interview with her he had come off with the victory, nor did he now cease to make such boasts; but still he spoke of her and her powers with an awe which would have completely opened the eyes of anyone a little more sharp on such matters than Archie Clavering. He was so intent on this subject that he sent the marker out of the room so that he might discuss it with more freedom, and might plainly express his views as to her influence on his friend’s fate.
“By George! she’s a wonderful woman. Do you know I can’t help thinking of her at night. She keeps me awake;—she does, upon my honour.”
“I can’t say she keeps me awake, but I wish I had my seventy pounds back again.”
“Do you know, if I were you, I shouldn’t grudge it. I should think it worth pretty nearly all the money to have had the dealing with her.”
“Then you ought to go halves.”
“Well, yes;—only that I ain’t flush, I would. When one thinks of it, her absolutely taking the notes out of your waistcoat-pocket, upon my word it’s beautiful! She’d have had it out of mine, if I hadn’t been doosed sharp.”
“She understood what she was about, certainly.”
“What I should like to know is this: did she or did she not tell Lady Ongar what she was to do;—about you I mean? I daresay she did after all.”
“And took my money for nothing?”
“Because you didn’t go high enough, you know.”
“But that was your fault. I went as high as you told me.”
“No, you didn’t, Clavvy; not if you remember. But the fact is, I don’t suppose you could go high enough. I shouldn’t be surprised if such a woman as that wanted—thousands! I shouldn’t indeed. I shall never forget the way in which she swore at me;—and how she abused me about my family. I think she must have had some special reason for disliking Warwickshire, she said such awful hard things about it.”
“How did she know that you came from Warwickshire?”
“She did know it. If I tell you something don’t you say anything about it. I have an idea about her.”
“What is it?”
“I didn’t mention it before, because I don’t talk much of those sort of things. I don’t pretend to understand them, and it is better to leave them alone.”
“But what do you mean?”
Doodles looked very solemn as he answered. “I think she’s a medium—or a media, or whatever it ought to be
