They did not see the arch rogue during the day, but he came in to dinner. He was gay—in a story-telling mood. There was little or no banter, for he spoke only to Jane, and gave her flashes of some of his amazing activities in search of art treasures. He had once been chased up and down Japan by the Mikado’s agents for having in his possession some royal-silk tapestry which it is forbidden to take out of the country. Another time he had gone into Tibet for a lama’s ghost mask studded with raw emeralds and turquoise, and had suffered untold miseries in getting down into India. Again he had entered a Rajput haremlik as a woman, and eventually escaped with the fabulous rug which hung in the salon. Adventure, adventure, and death always at his elbow! There was nothing of the braggart in the man; he 156 recounted his tales after the manner of a boy relating some college escapades, deprecatingly.
Often Jane stole a glance at one or the other of the Cleighs. She was constantly swung between—but never touched—the desire to laugh and the desire to weep over this tragedy, which seemed so futile.
“Why don’t you write a book about these adventures?” she asked.
“A book? No time,” said Cunningham. “Besides, the moment one of these trips is over it ends; I can recount it only sketchily.”
“But even sketchily it would be tremendously interesting. It is as if you were playing a game with death for the mere sport of it.”
“Maybe that hits it, though I’ve never stopped to analyze. I never think of death; it is a waste of gray matter. I should be no nearer death in Tibet than I should be asleep in a cradle. Why bother about the absolute, the inevitable? Humanity wears itself out building bridges for imaginary torrents. I am an exception; that is why I shall be young and handsome up to the moment the grim stalker puts his claw on my shoulder.”
He smiled whimsically.
“But you, have you never caught some of the passion for possessing rare paintings, rugs, manuscripts?” 157
“You miss the point. What does the sense of possession amount to beside the sense of seeking and finding? Cleigh here thinks he is having a thrill when he signs a check. It is to laugh!”
“Have you ever killed a man?” It was one of those questions that leap forth irresistibly. Jane was a bit frightened at her temerity.