“And you think that sufficient, do you? Well, I don’t! I am blowed if I can make this out, or if I know what I am going to do. Bring me a tub, a large can of hot water, and later on bring me a tray with a couple of eggs and tea. I am famished!”
Footsteps retreated; Lionel walked round and round his spacious bedroom. Everything was in its usual place as far as furniture went, but there was not a vestige of drapery or carpeting; the cushions had disappeared, and only the down lay on the floor; the chairs, easy fauteuils, the couch were despoiled of all covering and showed their bare construction of wood and cane-work. The bed was a simple pallet, the rugs had vanished. Lionel entered his dressing-room, the cupboards were open, and empty, when yesterday they had been crammed with all his clothes. The drawers were hanging out of their chest—empty; shirts, flannels, silk pyjamas, neckties, waistcoats, all the arsenal of a young man about town had dissolved into thin air. This was more than strange, and the Earl became more and more amazed as he went on opening boxes, baskets, and gaping at the empty receptacles. He again looked out of the window—his dressing-room had a full view of Grosvenor Square—and saw many more boys on tricycle carts; several satyr-milkmen were rattling their cans down the fashionable areas, and the water-cart went on slowly spouting its L.C.C. Niagara over dusty roads. The effect was decidedly comical. He came back to his bedroom, and once more looked out of the window. Looking up at the opposite house he saw a form passing to and fro. That was Lady Vera’s house. Could it be she? He smiled. It might be the maid. Who knows? There were few of his lady friends he would recognise again in this new garb. After his tub and breakfast he felt in buoyant spirits and physically fit, although he could not quite account for this new mood of his, for nothing had altered in his life. He gave a side glance at himself in the cheval-glass; he was always the Earl of Somerville, heir to vast riches, engaged to Gwendolen Towerbridge, and this joke would pass. It was perhaps the new trick of some gang of thieves, whom the police would be able to catch in a few days. The thing to find out was whether it was the same all over London. Temple told Lord Somerville, as he brought the breakfast tray to the door, that the areas down the streets and the square were a bevy of buzzing gossipers. Admiral B., who lived two doors off, was in the same plight, and was using strong language to his poor wife; and as to Field-Marshal W., whose house was in the square, he was beside himself, had howled at his man for his pyjamas and sent the fellow rolling down the passage for appearing in his presence in an Adamitic vestment. Temple thought this very unjust, as the Field-Marshal was in the same dilemma; but then Temple had no sense of the fitness of things, and certainly had no sense of humour, as he came to ask his master what were his orders for Marshall, the coachman. Lionel naturally sent Marshall to the devil.
“Does he think I am going to drive in an open Victoria as I am, with him on the box as he is?” And he raved at the poor valet, and asked him what they all felt in the housekeeper’s room. To which Temple replied, that the men did not so much mind, and that the women would get used to it. They had all their work cut out for them, and no time to think about difficult problems. Evidently it was different with them, and the Earl dropped the subject, inquiring whether the Times had come. But the postman had not yet arrived.
“What on earth can I do?” murmured Lionel. Then he thought of sending Temple to get him a pile of new French novels to while away the tedious hours. By the way, he thought suddenly, he would like to know something definite about last night’s adventure; he did not like to tell his man about his foolish attempt, but if he had seen the revolver on the carpet, he was prepared to give him some sort of explanation. Temple came back saying that every book had disappeared, and gave a graphic description of what was once the library of my lord. Lionel timidly inquired if he had not noticed anything peculiar on the floor, nor any stray object lying about? No, Temple had seen nothing except the total disappearance of all draperies, chair coverings, carpets, books, etc. There was nothing on the floor, only a little more dust than before in front of the writing-desk. This satisfied Lionel, who made up his mind that the whole thing was the effect of his own imagination, very probably occasioned by this miserable wound which at times was a great worry to him; and he settled down to forget the past and to solve the present in trying to explain this strange event. But in vain did he endeavour to do so, his eyes persistently went back to the window, and he constantly got up to watch the opposite house and the few strollers that ventured out; of course they were all servants who so immodestly exposed themselves to his investigation, still it amused him much more to watch the street than to ponder these grave questions.
“Well, I think I was a damned fool last night, provided I did such a foolish thing as to try and blow my brains out. This is worth living for, and I have not been amused for many years as I am now. It must have something to do with last night’s storm. If this is going to last, I suppose the old fellows at the Royal Institute will make it their business to ponder this stupendous phenomenon.”
Temple brought the luncheon tray about 1.30; only a couple of kidneys, a glass of Apollinaris water; it would be sufficient for that day, as he could not get out that afternoon and have a ride. Then more thinking, with as little attention as before. After that, tea with a bit of toast and no butter, and more thinking, interrupted at times by sudden glances through the window. Temple came once or twice to his master’s door with all the news that was afloat in the areas, butlers’ pantries, saddle-rooms, and although this gossip originated on the backstairs, it was welcomed by the heir of great estates, for, at this moment he could get no direct information, and what his valet brought him was as good as he could ever get. The valet had reminded my lord that to-day was the Levee, which the latter was to attend. This amused him very much, for was it likely that the Admiral, the Field-Marshal, the latest V.C. would ever venture beyond their bed-rug—oh! that even was gone—to go and meet their ruler in their skins? No, these things were impossible, and the structure of Society would soon crumble to ashes if one man unadorned was to meet another man unclad. Of course Lord Somerville was very anxious to know whether all London was in the same condition, to which the faithful valet replied, that he had it from the milkman that Belgravia was as silent as a tomb, Bayswater a wilderness, and Buckingham Palace a desert. As to the omnibuses, after one journey up and down they had given up running at all, as no one wanted a drive, and the few servants and working-men about preferred walking. Towards seven o’clock, Lionel felt inclined to have a little food, and he ordered a grilled sole and a custard. That would do for him, but evidently it did not do for Temple, who was quite shocked at his master’s abstemiousness, and recoiled before appearing in front of the cook with such a meagre menu. “He would be capable of throwing a dish at my head, my lord; he hardly believed me when I told him your lordship wanted two kidneys for lunch.”
But Lionel was determined, and would hear of nothing more for dinner and sent the cook to Jericho through the intermediary of Temple, adding that he could not eat more when he had no proper exercise, that he had had sufficient, having eaten when he felt hungry and left off when he had had enough—which he had not done for many years.
“Yes, my lord,” had respectfully answered the faithful valet, who perhaps at the same time thought his master’s remark a wise one.
The evening went by, bringing no change in the situation; and by nine o’clock it was universally known, and partly accepted, that from the Lord Chancellor to the Carlton waiter, frock-coat or no coat, woolsack or three-legged crock, a man was to be a man for a’ that. One great calamity had befallen them all, and in one minute levelled the whole of London’s inhabitants to the state of nature. The question arose in my lord’s mind whether they were sufficiently fitted for that state? Could they face the God Pan with as much composure as they had faced all the other gods? He heard the heavy footsteps of the lamplighter methodically going through his work. It was strange that he had never once thought of stopping his nocturnal routine. Evidently whatever happened, the streets had to be lighted, and Lionel mused long and deeply on these questions of duty and force of habit, as he looked out of the window into the street and observed the long shadow descending over London.
“Was it the sense of duty that prompted the actions of these menials?” He could not bring himself to think that, and he could not help believing that amongst his own superior class the sense of duty was always accompanied by a powerful sense of the fitness of things, so that if a virtue clashed with prejudices and the accepted standard of propriety, it was desirable that they should build up some new duty more in harmony with their worldly principles. There, no doubt, lay the difference between the upper classes and the lower, and which made the former shrink before breaking the laws of decorum, when the latter saw no objection to performing daily pursuits in their skins, unconcerned with higher motives of purity and exalted ideals.