Adventure stories; City and town life -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
It was raining slightly, but he dared not return to the house for his
umbrella. In the haze and wet of the shivering October night the clock
of Bleakridge Church glowed like a fiery disc suspended in the sky,
and, mysteriously hanging there, without visible means of support,
it seemed to him somehow to symbolize the enigma of the universe and
intensify his inward gloom. Never before had he had such feelings to
such a degree. It is scarcely an exaggeration to say that never before
had the enigma of the universe occurred to him. The side gates clicked
as he stood hesitant under the shelter of the wall, and a figure
emerged from his domain. It was Bellfield, the new chauffeur, going
across to his home in the little square in front of the church.
Bellfield touched his cap with an eager and willing hand, as new
chauffeurs will.
"Want the car, sir?... Setting in for a wet night!"
"No, thanks."
It was a lie. He did want the car. He wanted the car so that he might
ride right away into a new and more interesting world, or at any
rate into Hanbridge, centre of the pleasures, the wickedness and the
commerce of the Five Towns. But he dared not have the car. He dared
not have his own car. He must slip off noiseless and unassuming. Even
to go to Dr Stirling's he dared not have the car. Besides, he could
have walked down the hill to Dr. Stirling's in three minutes. Not that
he had the least intention of going to Dr. Stirling's. No! His wife
imagined that he was going. But she was mistaken. Within an hour, when
Dr. Stirling had failed to arrive, she would doubtless telephone and
get her Dr. Stirling. Not, however, with Edward Henry's assistance!
He reviewed his conduct throughout the evening. In what particular had
it been sinful? In no particular. True, the accident to the boy was a
misfortune, but had he not borne that misfortune lightly, minimized it
and endeavoured to teach others to bear it lightly? His blithe humour
ought surely to have been an example to Nellie! And as for the episode
of the funeral march on the Pianisto, really, really, the tiresome
little thing ought to have better appreciated his whimsical drollery!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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