"And of what?"
"I'll tell you to-morrow. Good-night."
III
I did on the morrow several things, but the first was not to redeem that vow. It was to address myself straight to Grace Brissenden. "I must let you know that, in spite of your guarantee, it doesn't go at alloh, but not at all! I've tried Lady John, as you enjoined, and I can't but feel that she leaves us very much where we were." Then, as my listener seemed not quite to remember where we had been, I came to her help. "You said yesterday at Paddington, to explain the change in Gilbert Longdon't you recall?that that woman, plying him with her genius and giving him of her best, is clever enough for two. She's not clever enough then, it strikes me, for threeor at any rate for four. I confess I don't see it. Does she really dazzle you?"
My friend had caught up. "Oh, you've a standard of wit!"
"No, I've only a sense of realitya sense not at all satisfied by the theory of such an influence as Lady John's."
She wondered. "Such a one as whose else then?"
"Ah, that's for us still to find out! Of course this can't be easy; for as the appearance is inevitably a kind of betrayal, it's in somebody's interest to conceal it."
This Mrs. Brissenden grasped. "Oh, you mean in the lady's?"
"In the lady's most. But also in Long's own, if he's really tender of the ladywhich is precisely what our theory posits."
My companion, once roused, was all there. "I see. You call the appearance a kind of betrayal because it points to the relation behind it."
"Precisely."
"And the relationto do that sort of thingmust be necessarily so awfully intimate."
"Intimissima."
"And kept therefore in the background exactly in that proportion."
"Exactly in that proportion."
"Very well then," said Mrs. Brissenden, "doesn't Mr. Long's tenderness of Lady John quite fall in with what I mentioned to you?"
I remembered what she had mentioned to me. "His making her come down with poor Briss?"
"Nothing less."
"And is that all you go upon?"
"That and lots more."
I thought a minutebut I had been abundantly thinking. "I know what you mean by 'lots.' Is Brissenden in it?"
"Dear nopoor Briss! He wouldn't like that. I saw the manœuvre, but Guy didn't. And you must have noticed how he stuck to her all last evening."
"How Gilbert Long stuck to Lady John? Oh yes, I noticed. They were like Lord Lutley and Mrs. Froome. But is that what one can call being tender of her?"
My companion weighed it. "He must speak to her sometimes. I'm glad you admit, at any rate," she continued, "that it does take what you so prettily call some woman's secretly giving him of her best to account for him."
"Oh, that I admit with all my heartor at least with all my head. Only, Lady John has none of the signs"
"Of being the beneficent woman? What then are theythe signsto be so plain?" I was not yet quite ready to say, however; on which she added: "It proves nothing, you know, that you don't like her."
"No. It would prove more if she didn't like me, whichfatuous fool as you may find meI verily believe she does. If she hated me it would be, you see, for my ruthless analysis of her secret. She has no secret. She would like awfully to haveand she would like almost as much to be believed to have. Last evening, after dinner, she could feel perhaps for a while that she was believed. But it won't do. There's nothing in it. You asked me just now," I pursued, "what the signs of such a secret would naturally be. Well, bethink yourself a moment of what the secret itself must naturally be."
Oh, she looked as if she knew all about that! "Awfully charmingmustn't it?to act upon a person, through an affection, so deeply."
"Yesit can certainly be no vulgar flirtation." I felt a little like a teacher encouraging an apt pupil; but I could only go on with the lesson. "Whoever she is, she gives all she has. She keeps nothing backnothing for herself."
"I seebecause he takes everything. He just cleans her out." She looked at mepleased at last really to understandwith the best conscience in the world. "Who is the lady then?"
But I could answer as yet only by a question. "How can she possibly be a woman who gives absolutely nothing whatever; who scrapes and saves and hoards; who keeps every crumb for herself? The whole show's thereto minister to Lady John's vanity and advertise the businessbehind her smart shop-window. You can see it, as much as you like, and even amuse yourself with pricing it. But she never parts with an article. If poor Long depended on her"
"Well, what?" She was really interested.
"Why, he'd be the same poor Long as ever. He would go as he used to gonaked and unashamed. No," I wound up, "he dealsturned out as we now see himat another establishment."
"I'll grant it," said Mrs. Brissenden, "if you'll only name me the place."
Ah, I could still but laugh and resume! "He doesn't screen Lady Johnshe doesn't screen herselfwith your husband or with anybody. It's she who's herself the screen! And pleased as she is at being so clever, and at being thought so, she doesn't even know it. She doesn't so much as suspect it. She's an unmitigated fool about it. 'Of course Mr. Long's clever, because he's in love with me and sits at my feet, and don't you see how clever I am? Don't you hear what good things I saywait a little, I'm going to say another in about three minutes; and how, if you'll only give him time too, he comes out with them after me? They don't perhaps sound so good, but you see where he has got them. I'm so brilliant, in fine, that the men who admire me have only to imitate me, which, you observe, they strikingly do.' Something like that is all her philosophy."
My friend turned it over. "You do sound like her, you know. Yet how, if a woman's stupid"
"Can she have made a man clever? She can't. She can't at least have begun it. What we shall know the real person by, in the case that you and I are studying, is that the man himself will have made her what she has become. She will have done just what Lady John has not doneshe will have put up the shutters and closed the shop. She will have parted, for her friend, with her wit."
"So that she may be regarded as reduced to idiocy?"
"Wellso I can only see it."
"And that if we look, therefore, for the right idiot"
"We shall find the right womanour friend's mystic Egeria? Yes, we shall be at least approaching the truth. We shall 'burn,' as they say in hide-and-seek." I of course kept to the point that the idiot would have to be the right one. Any idiot wouldn't be to the purpose. If it was enough that a woman was a fool the search might become hopeless even in a house that would have passed but ill for a fool's paradise. We were on one of the shaded terraces, to which, here and there, a tall window stood open. The picture without was all morning and August, and within all clear dimness and rich gleams. We stopped once or twice, raking the gloom for lights, and it was at some such moment that Mrs. Brissenden asked me if I then regarded Gilbert Long as now exalted to the position of the most brilliant of our companions. "The cleverest man of the party?"it pulled me up a little. "Hardly that, perhapsfor don't you see the proofs I'm myself giving you? But say he is"I considered"the cleverest but one." The next moment I had seen what she meant. "In that case the thing we're looking for ought logically to be the person, of the opposite sex, giving us the maximum sense of depletion for his benefit? The biggest fool, you suggest, must, consistently, be the right one? Yes again; it would so seem. But that's not really, you see, the short cut it sounds. The biggest fool is what we want, but the question is to discover who is the biggest."