Medina said something impatiently about “danger,” as if his purpose were to reassure. Then I caught nothing for several minutes, till he laughed and repeated the word “secundus.” Now I was looking for three people, and if there was a “secundus” there must have been a “primus,” and possibly a “tertius.”
“He is the least easy to handle,” he said. “And it is quite necessary that Jason should come home. I have decided that the doctor must go out. It won’t be for long—only till midsummer.”
The date interested me acutely. So did what followed, for he went on:
“By midsummer they liquidate and disband. There is no fear that it won’t succeed. We have the whip hand, remember. Trust me, all will go smoothly, and then we begin a new life. …”
I thought she sighed, and for the first time she spoke in English:
“I fear sometimes that you are forgetting your own land, Dominick.”
He put up an arm and drew her head to his.
“Never, mother mine. It is our strength that we can seem to forget and still remember.”
I was finding my stand on that hearthrug extraordinarily trying. You see I had to keep perfectly rigid, for every now and then Medina would look towards me, and I knew that the woman had an ear like a hound. But my knees were beginning to shake with fatigue and my head to grow giddy, and I feared that, like the soldiers who stand guard round a royal bier, I might suddenly collapse. I did my best to struggle against the growing weakness, and hoped to forget it by concentrating all my attention on the fragments of talk.
“I have news for you,” Medina was saying. “Kharáma is in Europe and proposes to come to England.”
“You will see him?” I thought her voice had a trace of alarm in it.
“Most certainly. I would rather see him than any living man.”
“Dominick, be careful. I would rather you confined yourself to your old knowledge. I fear these new things from the East.”
He laughed. “They are as old as ours—older. And all knowledge is one. I have already drunk of his learning and I must have the whole cup.”
That was the last I heard, for at that moment I made my exit from the scene in a way which I could not have bettered by much cogitation. My legs suddenly gave under me, the room swam round, and I collapsed on the floor in a dead faint. I must have fallen heavily, for I knocked a leg off one of the little tables.
When I came to—which I suppose was a minute or two later—Odell was bathing my face, and Medina with a grave and concerned air was standing by with a brandy decanter.
“My dear fellow, you gave me a bad fright,” he said, and his manner was that of the considerate friend. “You’re not feeling ill?”
“I haven’t been quite fit all day, and I suppose the hot room knocked me out. I say, I’m most awfully sorry for playing the fool like this. I’ve damaged your furniture, I’m afraid. I hope I didn’t scare the lady.”
“What lady?”
“Your mother.”
He looked at me with a perfectly blank face, and I saw I had made a mistake.
“I beg your pardon—I’m still giddy. I’ve been dreaming.”
He gave me a glass of brandy and tucked me into a taxi. Long before I got to the Club I was feeling all right, but my mind was in a fine turmoil. I had stumbled at last upon not one clue but many, and though they were confused enough, I hoped with luck to follow them out. I could hardly eat any dinner that night, and my brain was too unsettled to do any serious thinking. So I took a taxi up to Gospel Oak, and, bidding it wait for me, had another look at Palmyra Square. The place seemed to have been dead and decaying for centuries, seen in that windy moonless dark, and No. 4 was a shuttered tomb. I opened the gate and, after making sure that the coast was clear, stole round to the backdoor where tradesmen called. There were some dilapidated outhouses, and the back garden, with rank grasses and obscene clothes-posts, looked like nothing so much as a neglected graveyard. In that house was the terrible blind Fate that span. As I listened I heard from somewhere inside the sound of slow heartbroken sobs. I wondered if they came from the queer-looking little girl.
IX
I Am Introduced to Strong Magic
The first thing I did when I got up next morning was to pay a visit to Harlows, the fishing-tackle people. They knew me well enough, for I used to buy my rods there, and one of the assistants had been down to Fosse to teach Mary how to use a light split-cane. With him I embarked on a long talk about Norwegian rivers and their peculiarities, and very soon got his views on the best flies. I asked which river was considered to be the
