A Laodicean

Chapter 3

At two o'clock the rain lessened its fury. At half-past two

the obscured moon shone forth; and at three Havill awoke. The

blind had not been pulled down overnight, and the moonlight

streamed into the room, across the bed whereon Dare was

sleeping. He lay on his back, his arms thrown out; and his

well-curved youthful form looked like an unpedestaled Dionysus

in the colourless lunar rays.

Sleep had cleared Havill's mind from the drowsing effects of

the last night's sitting, and he thought of Dare's mysterious

manner in speaking of himself. This lad resembled the

Etruscan youth Tages, in one respect, that of being a boy

with, seemingly, the wisdom of a sage; and the effect of his

presence was now heightened by all those sinister and mystic

attributes which are lent by nocturnal environment. He who in

broad daylight might be but a young chevalier d'industrie was

now an unlimited possibility in social phenomena. Havill

remembered how the lad had pointed to his breast, and said

that his secret was literally kept there. The architect was

too much of a provincial to have quenched the common curiosity

that was part of his nature by the acquired metropolitan

indifference to other people's lives which, in essence more

unworthy even than the former, causes less practical

inconvenience in its exercise.

Dare was breathing profoundly. Instigated as above mentioned,

Havill got out of bed and stood beside the sleeper. After a

moment's pause he gently pulled back the unfastened collar of

Dare's nightshirt and saw a word tattooed in distinct

characters on his breast. Before there was time for Havill to

decipher it Dare moved slightly, as if conscious of

disturbance, and Havill hastened back to bed. Dare bestirred

himself yet more, whereupon Havill breathed heavily, though

keeping an intent glance on the lad through his half-closed

eyes to learn if he had been aware of the investigation.

Dare was certainly conscious of something, for he sat up,

rubbed his eyes, and gazed around the room; then after a few

moments of reflection he drew some article from beneath his

pillow. A blue gleam shone from the object as Dare held it in

the moonlight, and Havill perceived that it was a small

revolver.

A clammy dew broke out upon the face and body of the architect

when, stepping out of bed with the weapon in his hand, Dare

looked under the bed, behind the curtains, out of the window,

and into a closet, as if convinced that something had

occurred, but in doubt as to what it was. He then came across

to where Havill was lying and still keeping up the appearance

of sleep. Watching him awhile and mistrusting the reality of

this semblance, Dare brought it to the test by holding the

revolver within a few inches of Havill's forehead.

Havill could stand no more. Crystallized with terror, he

said, without however moving more than his lips, in dread of

hasty action on the part of Dare: 'O, good Lord, Dare, Dare,

I have done nothing!'

The youth smiled and lowered the pistol. 'I was only finding

out whether it was you or some burglar who had been playing

tricks upon me. I find it was you.'

'Do put away that thing! It is too ghastly to produce in a

respectable bedroom. Why do you carry it?'

'Cosmopolites always do. Now answer my questions. What were

you up to?' and Dare as he spoke played with the pistol again.

Havill had recovered some coolness. 'You could not use it

upon me,' he said sardonically, watching Dare. 'It would be

risking your neck for too little an object.'

'I did not think you were shrewd enough to see that,' replied

Dare carelessly, as he returned the revolver to its place.

'Well, whether you have outwitted me or no, you will keep the

secret as long as I choose.'

'Why?' said Havill.

'Because I keep your secret of the letter abusing Miss P., and

of the pilfered tracing you carry in your pocket.'

'It is quite true,' said Havill.

They went to bed again. Dare was soon asleep; but Havill did

not attempt to disturb him again. The elder man slept but

fitfully. He was aroused in the morning by a heavy rumbling

and jingling along the highway overlooked by the window, the

front wall of the house being shaken by the reverberation.

'There is no rest for me here,' he said, rising and going to

the window, carefully avoiding the neighbourhood of Mr. Dare.

When Havill had glanced out he returned to dress himself.

'What's that noise?' said Dare, awakened by the same rumble.

'It is the Artillery going away.'

'From where?'

'Markton barracks.'

'Hurrah!' said Dare, jumping up in bed. 'I have been waiting

for that these six weeks.'

Havill did not ask questions as to the meaning of this

unexpected remark.

When they were downstairs Dare's first act was to ring the

bell and ask if his Army and Navy Gazette had arrived.

While the servant was gone Havill cleared his throat and said,

'I am an architect, and I take in the Architect; you are an

architect, and you take in the Army and Navy Gazette.'

'I am not an architect any more than I am a soldier; but I

have taken in the Army and Navy Gazette these many weeks.'

When they were at breakfast the paper came in. Dare hastily

tore it open and glanced at the pages.

'I am going to Markton after breakfast!' he said suddenly,

before looking up; 'we will walk together if you like?'

They walked together as planned, and entered Markton about ten

o'clock.

'I have just to make a call here,' said Dare, when they were

opposite the barrack-entrance on the outskirts of the town,

where wheel-tracks and a regular chain of hoof-marks left by

the departed batteries were imprinted in the gravel between

the open gates. 'I shall not be a moment.' Havill stood

still while his companion entered and asked the commissary in

charge, or somebody representing him, when the new batteries

would arrive to take the place of those which had gone away.

He was informed that it would be about noon.

'Now I am at your service,' said Dare, 'and will help you to

rearrange your design by the new intellectual light we have

acquired.'

They entered Havill's office and set to work. When contrasted

with the tracing from Somerset's plan, Havill's design, which

was not far advanced, revealed all its weaknesses to him.

After seeing Somerset's scheme the bands of Havill's

imagination were loosened: he laid his own previous efforts

aside, got fresh sheets of drawing-paper and drew with vigour.

'I may as well stay and help you,' said Dare. 'I have nothing

to do till twelve o'clock; and not much then.'

So there he remained. At a quarter to twelve children and

idlers began to gather against the railings of Havill's house.

A few minutes past twelve the noise of an arriving host was

heard at the entrance to the town. Thereupon Dare and Havill

went to the window.

The X and Y Batteries of the Z Brigade, Royal Horse Artillery,

were entering Markton, each headed by the major with his

bugler behind him. In a moment they came abreast and passed,

every man in his place; that is to say:

Six shining horses, in pairs, harnessed by rope-traces white

as milk, with a driver on each near horse: two gunners on the

lead-coloured stout-wheeled limber, their carcases jolted to a

jelly for lack of springs: two gunners on the lead-coloured

stout-wheeled gun-carriage, in the same personal condition:

the nine-pounder gun, dipping its heavy head to earth, as if

ashamed of its office in these enlightened times: the

complement of jingling and prancing troopers, riding at the

wheels and elsewhere: six shining horses with their drivers,

and traces white as milk, as before: two more gallant jolted

men, on another jolting limber, and more stout wheels and

lead-coloured paint: two more jolted men on another drooping

gun: more jingling troopers on horseback: again six shining

draught-horses, traces, drivers, gun, gunners, lead paint,

stout wheels and troopers as before.

So each detachment lumbered slowly by, all eyes martially

forward, except when wandering in quest of female beauty.

'He's a fine fellow, is he not?' said Dare, denoting by a nod

a mounted officer, with a sallow, yet handsome face, and black

moustache, who came up on a bay gelding with the men of his

battery.

'What is he?' said Havill.

'A captain who lacks advancement.'

'Do you know him?'

'I know him?'

'Yes; do you?'

Dare made no reply; and they watched the captain as he rode

past with his drawn sword in his hand, the sun making a little

sun upon its blade, and upon his brilliantly polished long

boots and bright spurs; also warming his gold cross-belt and

braidings, white gloves, busby with its red bag, and tall

white plume.

Havill seemed to be too indifferent to press his questioning;

and when all the soldiers had passed by, Dare observed to his

companion that he should leave him for a short time, but would

return in the afternoon or next day.

After this he walked up the street in the rear of the

artillery, following them to the barracks. On reaching the

gates he found a crowd of people gathered outside, looking

with admiration at the guns and gunners drawn up within the

enclosure. When the soldiers were dismissed to their quarters

the sightseers dispersed, and Dare went through the gates to

the barrack-yard.

The guns were standing on the green; the soldiers and horses

were scattered about, and the handsome captain whom Dare had

pointed out to Havill was inspecting the buildings in the

company of the quartermaster. Dare made a mental note of

these things, and, apparently changing a previous intention,

went out from the barracks and returned to the town.