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Page 40
"The best train in the day is at twelve-fifteen," said she.
"But I was not thinking of going today," I answered, frankly--
perhaps even defiantly, for I was determined not to be driven out
by this woman.
"Oh, if it rests with you--" said she, and stopped with a most
insolent expression in her eyes.
"I am sure," I answered, "that Mr. Everard King would tell me
if I were outstaying my welcome."
"What's this? What's this?" said a voice, and there he was in
the room. He had overheard my last words, and a glance at our
faces had told him the rest. In an instant his chubby, cheery face
set into an expression of absolute ferocity.
"Might I trouble you to walk outside, Marshall?" said he. (I
may mention that my own name is Marshall King.)
He closed the door behind me, and then, for an instant, I heard
him talking in a low voice of concentrated passion to his wife.
This gross breach of hospitality had evidently hit upon his
tenderest point. I am no eavesdropper, so I walked out on to the
lawn. Presently I heard a hurried step behind me, and there was
the lady, her face pale with excitement, and her eyes red with
tears.
"My husband has asked me to apologize to you, Mr. Marshall
King," said she, standing with downcast eyes before me.
"Please do not say another word, Mrs. King."
Her dark eyes suddenly blazed out at me.
"You fool!" she hissed, with frantic vehemence, and turning on
her heel swept back to the house.
The insult was so outrageous, so insufferable, that I could
only stand staring after her in bewilderment. I was still there
when my host joined me. He was his cheery, chubby self once more.
"I hope that my wife has apologized for her foolish remarks,"
said he.
"Oh, yes--yes, certainly!"
He put his hand through my arm and walked with me up and down
the lawn.
"You must not take it seriously," said he. "It would grieve me
inexpressibly if you curtailed your visit by one hour. The fact
is--there is no reason why there should be any concealment between
relatives--that my poor dear wife is incredibly jealous. She hates
that anyone--male or female--should for an instant come between us.
Her ideal is a desert island and an eternal tete-a-tete. That
gives you the clue to her actions, which are, I confess, upon this
particular point, not very far removed from mania. Tell me that
you will think no more of it."
"No, no; certainly not."
"Then light this cigar and come round with me and see my little
menagerie."
The whole afternoon was occupied by this inspection, which
included all the birds, beasts, and even reptiles which he had
imported. Some were free, some in cages, a few actually in the
house. He spoke with enthusiasm of his successes and his failures,
his births and his deaths, and he would cry out in his delight,
like a schoolboy, when, as we walked, some gaudy bird would flutter
up from the grass, or some curious beast slink into the cover.
Finally he led me down a corridor which extended from one wing of
the house. At the end of this there was a heavy door with a
sliding shutter in it, and beside it there projected from the wall
an iron handle attached to a wheel and a drum. A line of stout
bars extended across the passage.
"I am about to show you the jewel of my collection," said he.
"There is only one other specimen in Europe, now that the Rotterdam
cub is dead. It is a Brazilian cat."
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