Foe-Farrell Part 20

A man can't say fairer than that, can he? . . . And I've suffered for it, too,' he added; 'if that's any consolation to you.'

"'Suffered, have you?' I asked.

"'What, haven't you heard?' He was surprised.--Yes, Roddy, genuinely. 'Well, now I won't say it was all owing to that little affair at the Silversmiths' College. . . . There were other--er--circ.u.mstances. In fact there was what-you-might-call a combination of circ.u.mstances. The upshot of which was that I had a safe seat and took a bad toss out of it. No, I don't harbour no feelings against you, Doctor Foe. I'm a sociable, easy-going sort of fellow, and not above owning up to a mistake when I've made one. . . . I stung you up again just now, wis.h.i.+ng you joy of your luck: meaning no more than your winnings at the tables. Not being touchy myself, I dessay it comes easy to advise a man not to be touchy. But what I say is, we're both down on our luck for the time, and we're both here to forget it.

So why not be sociable?'

"'Suppose on the contrary, Mr. Farrell,' I suggested, 'that I am here to remember. What then?'

"'Then I'd say--No, you interrupted me somewhere when I was going to make myself clear. You won't mind what I'm going to say?

. . . Well, then, I gather those a.s.ses did some pretty considerable damage to your scientific 'plant'--is that so?

. . . Well, again, feeling a sort of responsibility in this business, I want to say that if it'll set things on their legs again, five or six thousand pounds won't break Peter Farrell.'

"I didn't strangle him, Roddy. It was the perilous moment: but I sat it out like a statue, and then I knew myself a match for this business. I didn't strangle him, even though he provoked me by adding, 'Yes, and now we're met, out here, you can be useful to me in a lot of little ways. Know French, don't you?

Well, I don't, and we'll throw that in. . . . What I mean is, What d'ye say to our joining forces? I'm fed up with these Cook's men. They do their best, I don't deny. But this business of the lingo is a stiffer fence than I bargained for.

Now, with a fellow-countryman to swap talk; _and_ a gentleman, and one that can patter to the waiters and at the railway stations--What do you say to it, Doctor? Shall we let bygones be bygones?'

"I did not strangle him, Roddy, even for that. I sat pretty still for a while, pretending to consider.

"'It's odd, Mr. Farrell,' said I after a bit, 'that you should invite me to be your companion. You'll always remember that you invited me?'

"''Course I shall,' said he. 'Let's be sociable--that's my offer.'

"I threw away my cigar. 'Provided you make no suggestion beyond it, I accept,' said I. 'We will take this trip together.

Do you mean to stay long at Monte Carlo?'

"'Pretty place,' said Farrell. 'Been up to La Turbie? No, of course; you've only just arrived. Well, I can recommend it-- funny little railway takes you up, and the view from the top is a knock-out. But I'm your man, wherever you'll do the personally-conducting. I'm not wedded to this place. Only came here because I understood it was fast, and I wanted to see.'

"'Where's your hotel?' I asked.

"'Grand Hotel, next door,' he answered. 'What' yours?'

"'The same,' said I. 'We'll meet at _dejeuner_--same table.

Twelve noon, if that suits.'

"'I don't know if you're wedded to this place--' said he.

"'Not one little bit,' I answered.

"'Inside there, for instance?'

"'You saw,' said I. 'I came out because I disliked the smell.'

"'And there's that pigeon-shooting. Goes on all day. I hate taking life--even if I could--'

"'You've once before,' said I, 'suspected me of being careless about the sufferings of animals; and you've, apologised.

Shall we call it off? I don't shoot pigeons anyway.'

"'Me either,' Farrell agreed heartily. 'I'm here for fresh air and exercise. Don't mind confessing to you I've no great fancy for this place. Man told me at dayjooney this morning he'd just come in from sitting under the palms before the Casino entrance.

. . . All of a sudden a young fellow walked out and shot himself there, point-blank. Man who told me doesn't take any interest in play--over from Mentone for the day, just to see things.--Well, this young fellow, as I say, shot himself--put revolver to his forehead--there on the steps. And by George, sir, he was mopped up and into a sack within twenty seconds!

One porter ready with sack, another to help, third with sponge to mop steps--stage clear almost before you could rub your eyes.

. . . I just tell it to you as it was told to me, and by a man pretty far gone in consumption, so that you'd say he'd be cautious about lying.'

"I lit another cigar. 'With so priceless a fool as this,' I said to myself, 'you must not be in a hurry, John Foe.' Aloud I said, 'I've no pa.s.sion either, for this place. I wanted to see it, and I've seen it. I'll knock in at your room at eight o'clock, if that will suit you, and we'll discuss plans. For my part, I had a mind to go back to Cannes and start for a ramble among the Esterel.'"

"To be brief, we struck the bargain and--incredible as you may find it--have been running in double harness ever since. . . .

I couldn't have believed it myself, in prediction: but here it is--_and until a few hours ago Farrell never guessed_.

"No: that is wrong. He never guessed at all. I told him.

"It came to me, after the first week, as habitually as daily bread. We put in a couple of days at Mentone, another couple at Nice; then for a fortnight we made Cannes our centre, with a trip up to Gra.s.se and several long tramps among the mountains.

After that came St. Tropez, Costebello, Toulon, Ma.r.s.eilles, Montpellier--with excursions to Aigues-Mortes, the Pont du Gard and the rest of it. From Montpellier we turned right about on our tracks; took Cannes again, Antibes; drove along the whole Corniche in a two-horse barouche. There was a sort of compact that we'd do the whole Riviera--French and Italian--as thoroughly as tourists can do it; and we did--from Montpellier to Bordighera, from Bordighera to Genoa. And he never guessed.

"I had two bad moments; by which I mean moments of unscientific impatience, sudden unworthy impulses to kill him and get rid of the job. Unscientific, unworthy--unsportsmanlike--to kill your priceless fish before he has even felt the hook!

"The second bad moment I overcame (I am proud to report) of my own strength of will. It happened at a bend of the Corniche, when our driver pulled up on the edge of a really nasty precipice and invited us to admire the view. It being the hour for _dejeuner_, we haled our basket out of the carriage, and spread our meal on the parapet. Farrell sat perched there with his back to the sea, and made unpleasant noises, gnawing at a chicken-bone. I wanted to see how he'd fall backwards and watch him strike the beach. . . .

"Well, I was glad when the impulse was conquered and I had proved my self-control: because the previous temptation had been a close call, and I believe it would have bowled me out but for a special interposition of--Providence.

"We were following up a path in the Esterel: a little gorge of a path cut by some torrent long since dried. The track had steep sides--fifteen to twenty feet--right and left, and was so narrow that we took it single file. I was leading.

"Now, on our way westward out of Cannes, that morning, we had pa.s.sed the golf-links, and Farrell had been talking golf ever since. I don't know why golf-talk should have such power to infuriate those who despise that game. But so it is, Roddy.

"I had the weapon in my pocket. I had my fingers on it as I trudged along, and was saying to myself, 'Why not here? In the name of common sense, why not here? Why not here and now?'-- when a leveret, that had somehow bungled its footing on the high bank above, came tumbling down, not three yards ahead of us.

The poor little brute picked itself up, half-stunned, caught sight of us, and made a bolt up the path ahead. From this side to that it darted, trying to climb and escape; but again and again the bank beat it, and from each spring it toppled back; and we followed relentlessly.

"At the end of two hundred yards it gave in. It just lay down in the path like a thing already dead and waited for what we should choose to do.

"I picked it up. I showed it to Farrell, keeping my fingers on the faint little heart.

"'They say,' said I, 'it's lucky when a hare pops out in your path. What do you think?'

"'Worth carrying home?' said Farrell. 'I'm partial to hare.

But he's a bit undersized for Leadenhall Market'--and the fool laughed.

"'We'll let him go,' said I.

"'I guess he's too far scared to crawl,' he suggested doubtfully.

"'Turn about and watch,' said I. 'It may have escaped your memory that you once accused me of being cruel to animals.

Turn about, and watch. Don't move.'

"I undid the three upper b.u.t.tons of my waistcoat, stowed the little fellow down inside, against my s.h.i.+rt, leaving his head free, so that I could stroke his ears and brainpan. I let Farrell see this, stepped past him, and walked slowly back down the path. At the end of twenty paces I lifted the little beast out, set him on the ground, and walked on. He shook his ears twice, then lopped after me like a dog, at a slow canter.

At the point where he had tumbled I collected him again by the ears, lifted him, climbed the bank and restored him to his thicket, into which he vanished with a flick of his white scut.

"Then I went back very slowly to Farrell. 'Curious things, animals,' said I. 'If you don't mind, we won't talk any more golf to-day.'"