The MagicianMaugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
General
The Magician
Maugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
Magic -- Fiction; Paris (France) -- Fiction
He flounced to the door and held it open. Susie and Dr Porhoët walked
out; and Arthur, looking down thoughtfully, followed on their heels. Dr
Richardson slammed the street-door angrily.
Dr Porhoët slipped his arm in Arthur’s.
“You must be reasonable, my friend,” he said. “From his own point of
view this doctor has all the rights on his side. You have nothing to
justify your demands. It is monstrous to expect that for a vague
suspicion you will be able to get an order for exhumation.”
Arthur did not answer. The trap was waiting for them.
“Why do you want to see Haddo?” insisted the doctor. “You will do no
more good than you have with Dr Richardson.”
“I have made up my mind to see him,” answered Arthur shortly. “But
there is no need that either of you should accompany me.”
“If you go, we will come with you,” said Susie.
Without a word Arthur jumped into the dog-cart, and Susie took a seat
by his side. Dr Porhoët, with a shrug of the shoulders, mounted behind.
Arthur whipped up the pony, and at a smart trot they traversed the
three miles across the barren heath that lay between Venning and Skene.
When they reached the park gates, the lodgekeeper, as luck would have
it, was standing just inside, and she held one of them open for her
little boy to come in. He was playing in the road and showed no
inclination to do so. Arthur jumped down.
“I want to see Mr Haddo,” he said.
“Mr Haddo’s not in,” she answered roughly.
She tried to close the gate, but Arthur quickly put his foot inside.
“Nonsense! I have to see him on a matter of great importance.”
“Mr Haddo’s orders are that no one is to be admitted.”
“I can’t help that, I’m proposing to come in, all the same.”
Susie and Dr Porhoët came forward. They promised the small boy a
shilling to hold their horse.
“Now then, get out of here,” cried the woman. “You’re not coming in,
whatever you say.”
She tried to push the gate to, but Arthur’s foot prevented her. Paying
no heed to her angry expostulations, he forced his way in. He walked
quickly up the drive. The lodge-keeper accompanied him, with shrill
abuse. The gate was left unguarded, and the others were able to follow
without difficulty.
“You can go to the door, but you won’t see Mr Haddo,” the woman cried
angrily. “You’ll get me sacked for letting you come.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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