The Tower of Oblivion Part 53

"Derry, you're my despair."

"Oh, don't despair, George. Never despair. It will be all right. What about sending that car away? No good wasting good francs. You see, we've finished our talk."

"We haven't begun it yet."

"Then for goodness sake let's begin and get it over."

"Very well. Get ready.... I stood by you at the tramway office this afternoon. I saw what was given you there. I know what you have tucked away somewhere about you at this moment."

He had asked for it, and had got it. Hitherto I had stuck to generalities; that this was particular enough I knew by his quick movement. His foot knocked against the flimsy table, and a coffee-cup all but fell. He spoke in a low but harsh voice.

"That's not on the agenda, Coverham."

"Pardon me."

"It's not, and it's not going to be."

"If you prefer it in French, it's a _fait accompli_."

"You mean you'll bring matters to a head by telling them over there?" He jerked his head in the direction of Ker Annic.

"That rests with you, here and now."

He muttered. At first I could not distinguish the words. Then I heard, "No, not here ... now if you like ... it's got to come, I suppose...."

He rose. "Very well," he said. "I'm ready."

"Wait a moment till I've paid for the coffee."

"Oh, I'll wait all right."

I entered the hotel and paid. When I came out again I looked right and left for him; then I saw his black smock and corduroys by a lighted door half-way across the Square. I joined him, and together we took the dark street to the right that leads to where the Calvary stretches out its arms across the harbour to Lancieux.

Past the Post Office, past the Mairie we walked without speaking--that Mairie that either as an Englishman or a Frenchman knew him not. We ascended the short lane to the promontory. It was a whispering half-tide, but all was darkness save for a low remnant in the west, a twinkle or two over the shallows, and once more Frehel, this time directly visible and giving us distinct shadows. The last gossip had disappeared from the point. I don't think even a couple of lovers lingered on the steep below. It was him and myself for it, with the Calvary above us and that twelve-miles-distant Giant as timekeeper of our encounter.

But he did an unexpected thing before he spoke. Under Frehel's sweeping finger the Calvary started forth for a moment from the shadows. He advanced to it, dipped his knee, and crossed himself.

Then he turned to me.

"Well----" he said quietly.

I waited. It was he who began.

"Don't think I don't see the force of everything you've said. Every word of it's true, and a child could see it. For one hole you can pick in the position I can pick five hundred. But picking holes doesn't help. What you aren't allowing for is the force of circ.u.mstances."

"It's the force of circ.u.mstances I've been trying to point out," I said, as quietly as he had spoken.

"I'm speaking of the circ.u.mstances _I_ find myself in, the pressure that drives _me_ to do what I am doing. You don't think I'm deceiving these decent people as a matter of choice, do you?"

"You say what you've got to say. I'll tell you what I think by and by."

"I've _no_ choice. I'm driven to it, can't escape it; it's my handicap.

I want you to look at it for a moment from my end. What's the very first thing I've got to do? To lie about my name. I must lie, knowing perfectly well that a day, a week or a month or two at the outside will see me caught out and shown the door. Never mind other instances; let's stick to that one; the rest are just the same, only a good deal worse, some of 'em. Now here's the point. Do you suppose I should put my head into a noose like that unless I was perfectly sure that I'd finished sliding, was well dug in, and had a fairly reasonable prospect of presently going straight ahead like anybody else?"

But I had no intention of going over that ground again. My foolish excited hope that he might "pull it off" had been scattered to the winds by the events of that afternoon. As far as he himself was concerned I wished him all the best that could happen to him, but it was not a chance that the happiness and safety of the daughter of my friends could be risked upon. Let him start to go forward first; let us have some a.s.surance that the ghastly business was all over; then would be time enough to talk about the rest.

"We've had all that," I interrupted him.

"We haven't, George," he said earnestly. "You don't know. You can't possibly know. You've no idea of the care--the tests----"

"If it comes off all right n.o.body will rejoice more than I shall, Derry.

What's between us at the moment is what happened this afternoon."

Instantly I was conscious of his hardening. But he did not become granite all at once.

"That can't be dragged in."

"'Dragged in'!"

"Can't you accept the situation, George?"

"No."

"Not if I solemnly a.s.sure you that I have a good chance?"

"When it's a proved certainty we'll talk about it."

"Not if I tell you my mind's perfectly made up?"

"That's the point."

"Not if it meant a breach between you and me?"

"It looks as if I had to have a breach with somebody."

"Your friends. I know. I've admitted all that. It's beastly. But I'm afraid it can't be allowed to make any difference."

"Suppose I denounce you?"

"I'm sure you'll act perfectly conscientiously whatever you do."

"That would mean your complete exposure."

"I'm prepared for that."

"You said the other night that you only wanted to see and talk to her.

You said you'd go no further than that. Do you call what happened this afternoon keeping your word?"

"I meant what I said at the time. You know that I honestly hadn't a thought of deceiving you. I'm afraid that word can't be kept. Perhaps I hadn't quite realised."