The weather was uncommonly hot. For weeks the sun had been blazing in a cloudless sky, as it did in the tropics, and the earth was parched for want of rain. Everywhere it was seamed and cracked; everywhere the grass was brown and the trees were wilted, while the air was like the thrice-heated breath of a furnace. Animals and human beings went languidly about their business and longed all day for the cool night hours. Not that it was particularly cool even when the twilight came, but it was something to escape the pitiless blue sky and the burning sun. And on this particular evening a hot wind rose with unexpected suddenness to make matters worse. It raised clouds of dust, it rattled the dry foliage in Parley Wood, and brought no sense of relief to the worn and weary. As people are never really prepared for an unusually hot season in England, the Cookley villagers found this equatorial summer excessively trying and disagreeable.
Spruce enjoyed the sultry weather personally, as he loved warmth with all the affection of a cat, and the worst heat never caused him any discomfort. After dining excellently at seven o'clock, he now sat by the open window of his sitting-room at the Bull Inn, enjoying a cup of fragrant coffee and as many cigarettes as he could get through. Of course, he was in accurate evening dress, as he always loved to be clothed appropriately according to the hour of the day. No one was more of a slave to social observances than the Nut, for he had the petty soul of a Beau Brummel. A small table stood before him, and he passed the time in trying new card-tricks, which might be useful some day, should he again become hard up. Not that Spruce always played false to make money, since he was a cheat by instinct. To get the better of any one by trickery was pleasant, as it involved danger, which was exciting, and gave him an agreeable feeling of superiority because of his wonderful dexterity. So he shuffled and cut and dealt; slipped cards up his sleeve and out again; diddled an imaginary opponent by sleight of hand, and in every way trained himself to cheating as though it were a fine art. Most card-lovers when alone play Patience. Spruce preferred to prepare himself for future campaigns.
Every now and then he cast a disdainful look round the shabby old room, which was by no means to his taste. Undoubtedly the apartment was ancient and time-worn, containing too much furniture, and giving little gratification to the eye. But Time had mellowed the whole into pleasing, sober colours, and less fastidious people would have been delighted with the reposeful look of things. The atmosphere was quite monastic. But Spruce admired spacious chambers filled with gilded furniture and blazing with lights. He had the tastes of Louis XIV., and Versailles was his idea of a dwelling house. When he was in possession of the two thousand a year, he intended to live in great luxury, but meanwhile contented himself with this dingy habitation. The window at which he was seated looked out on to a small garden surrounded by a low wall beyond which stretched fields right up to the grey churchyard. The sill of the window was so low that the Nut could easily have vaulted over it into the pleasant garden. But not having any love for Nature, he preferred to stay where he was playing cards, and dreaming of luxurious years, which were as he thought--truly coming to him.
While Spruce was thus occupied, the landlady of the inn knocked at the door to announce that Mr. Hench and Mr. Vane wished to see him. The Nut at once ordered them to be admitted, never doubting but what they were coming to conclude the matter of his blackmail. He rose to greet them pleasantly, as if he was the most honest person in the world, and when the door was closed signed that they should be seated. He resumed his post near the window, and in that way obtained a good view of their faces, while his own was in the shadow. As it was only half-past eight o'clock, the twilight was yet luminous enough to see very plainly, and although Spruce offered to ring for lights, Hench signified that it was not necessary. Then the host offered cigarettes and drinks, both of which were curtly refused.
"You are uncommonly rude," said the Nut, much nettled. "When you look up a man you might be civil."
"That depends very much on the man," said Vane coolly. "Neither Hench nor myself were ever friends of yours, Spruce."
"Oh, I don't want your friendship. After all, you are a dull couple."
"But honest," said Hench with emphasis.
"Honesty implies dullness. It takes a clever man to sin."
"What a brilliant person you must be, then."