Then, too, a physically weak man likes to show his power; he is often more cruel than a stronger man. Brand's meetings with Dora afforded him constant amusement. At first she had tried to baffle and evade him; Dora was the last woman in the world to hold to a bargain when once she had reaped its full benefits. They had quite a disturbing scene one day. She was fully alive to the advantages of her position. As Farquharson's wife she could go anywhere, do anything. And she knew that, did he once learn by what means she had won him—that she had allowed Evelyn's name to be brought into disrepute that she might win her little pitiful triumph, he was capable of repudiating her at once. No love bound them. Separation, scandal, the dreariness of life under such changed conditions—these were unpleasant changes which no woman of sense would wish to face.
Brand worried her very little at first, merely drawing her on to disclose small items of news more on the level with Farquharson's appointment. Little by little his demands grew. Much of Farquharson's work was done in cypher at the Foreign Office, but there were certain notes and jottings often in his personal possession at Chester Street. From time to time Dora had got possession of these notes for him. Lady Wereminster was right. In one way and another a good many important disclosures had been made. Some of these Brand sold directly to the Press, others he used entirely for his own advantage, and was the richer man thereby.
He had a great scheme in view now—to get a copy of some of the terms of this Foreign Treaty about which there was so much controversy. A third Power would give the weight of each word in gold for even a hint of its contents.... But how to get it? Dora had given herself away so ridiculously on that occasion when Farquharson had found her in his room; she had admitted losing her head through absolute terror after his discovery that she was searching amongst his papers. That was the worst of women, particularly women in her condition. Never level-headed at best, approaching motherhood threw some of them completely off their mental balance, particularly those who, like Dora, rebelled against its very thought.
Oh, he had got to the crux of the difficulty, doubtless. He smoked on meditatively, eyeing, one by one, the typical little groups of men and women who were gathered near him: rich Jews, with over-dressed families, actresses, manufacturers' wives from the Midlands, a loud-voiced, blatant throng. Places like these always amused Brand; their little pitiful attempts to compete with the attractions of foreign hotels were so lamentable in their failure, they reminded him of a young bride's efforts to rival an experienced woman of the world.
An habituée of the place, a woman to whom he had spoken casually on one or two occasions, came up and seated herself beside him. "You always remind me of Burns' poem, Mr. Brand," she said archly. "You look 'like a chiel amangst us takin' notes.' Aren't you often abused socially for being so critical?"
"Critical—now I wonder what you mean by critical?" said Brand.
The woman laughed again, tugging ruthlessly at her gloves.
"Oh, pulling holes, I suppose. You look at us all as though you could strip us threadbare. I've heard lots of people say the same. Now tell me, aren't you a great personage in London?"
Brand smiled.
"I am only a looker-on, dear lady. Now and again I give or withhold a word of advice. That's all. Few people have your perspicacity. Men of force are usually supposed to have athletic physiques. Now sport, and all things appertaining thereto, have always seemed to me—rather cruel and terrible. They are always subtle pleasures which appeal to me. Goths and Philistines say that the taste of absinthe reminds them of bad drains; whereas to me it's of a quite unparalleled purity. Now there's an odd flavour about life as there is about absinthe; and the odder it is the more it appeals to me."