With discreet hesitations, a well-known Insurance Company declined to take the risk. Their doctor, with raised eyebrows, protested that he had never seen so young a constitution so seriously undermined. If Mr. Burtell took care of himself, he had no doubt a reasonable chance of achieving his twenty-fifth birthday, but … to tell the truth, he was not fully satisfied either of Mr. Burtell’s will to do so, or of his power, if he had the will, to break with his bad habits. “With a chap like Derek,” commented Nigel, to whom the circumstances were reported, “the world wants to be insured against his life rather than his death.” But there is a way out of every impasse, and usually it is the Indescribable. In case the reader is not already acquainted with the name and the character of this vast insurance agency, let him recall the name of that millionaire who recently flew to Nova Zèmbla, paying as he did so a shilling per second by way of insurance money. … Yes, that was the Indescribable. Human ingenuity has still failed to imagine any form or any degree of danger which the Indescribable are not prepared (for a consideration) to underwrite. The fact that Derek Burtell was not legitimate business made no difference to them. For a very reasonable premium they backed him to reach the age of twenty-five, without showing any curiosity as to his further destiny.
One condition, however, they did make—even the Indescribable makes conditions. Mr. Burtell must really put himself under the direction of a medical adviser. … No, unfortunately it would not be possible for their own doctor to undertake the task. (It is a matter of honour, and indeed of income, with the Indescribable’s doctor to refuse every other form of practice.) But if Mr. Burtell had no objection, they would like to see him put himself in the hands of Dr. Simmonds, a man in whom he could have every confidence, a man, indeed, who had made a lifelong study of acrasia. So it was that, when he was within a month or so of his all-important twenty-fifth birthday, and when his cousin was just preparing, without any notable regrets on either side, to take his degree and go down from Oxford, Derek found himself closeted in Dr. Simmonds’ consulting-room in Wigpole Street.
“Open air, that’s what you want,” Dr. Simmonds was saying. “Open air. Take your mind off the need for stimulants, and set you up again physically. See?”
“I suppose you want me to take a confounded sea-voyage,” grumbled Derek. “You fellows always seem to want to send a man to the ends of the earth, in the hope that he’ll be dead before he comes back.”
Dr. Simmonds shuddered. He was not exactly an official of the Indescribable Company, but he was (how shall we say it?) in close touch with them; and the idea of such a valuable life, with such a short time to run, being exposed to the chances of wind and wave did not impress him favourably.
“Why no, not a sea-voyage. Take a sea-voyage, and the first thing you know you’ll find you’re edging round to the saloon. Don’t mind my speaking frankly, do you? No, it must be open air combined with exercise; not very hard exercise, you ain’t fit for it, but something that’ll keep you occupied, see? The river, now; ever go on the river?”
“I went to Henley once with some fellows.”
“Well, look here, I’ll tell you what. You hire a boat; better say a canoe; don’t want to take any risks with that heart of yours, you know; you go down to Oxford and take a friend with you, and up you go to Lechdale, Cricklade, as far as you can go without the canoe getting aground. Take it pretty easy, mind, but keep on the go the whole time as far as possible. Then you come back to me, and I’ll recommend you some exercises and a diet, and we’ll see what we can make of you.”
It was something of a surprise to Derek’s world to hear that he was indulging in anything so innocuous as a canoe trip up the river. It was still more of a surprise to them when they heard the company he was keeping; the other place in the canoe was actually to be occupied by Nigel. And yet there was sense in the arrangement; Nigel had to kill time between his schools and his viva voce; Nigel was at Oxford, and knew how to manage canoes and where you hired the beastly things; besides, there was a great-aunt in the background, who had expressed a particular wish to see the two boys getting on better together, and, though neither had seen her for a long time, Aunt Alma’s circumstances were supposed to be comfortable, and she had no other legal heir. As for Nigel, he assured his friends that the prospect of a centaur turned hippopotamus was altogether too much for him. It would be interesting to make a tour of rural England, and satisfy himself that the churches were really as depopulated as he had been led to believe. And then, whatever you said against rivers, at least you had to admit that they set an example of decadence.
II
Shipcote Lock
The morning sun shone on the upper reaches of the Thames with the hazy glow that recalls a night of rain and presages a day of baking heat. It was early July, and the time of day conspired with the season of the year to produce an impression of almost uncanny perfection. The woods
