Margaret talked and laughed as much as her husband, but Susie could not tell whether this animation was affected or due to an utter callousness. Her voice seemed natural enough, yet it was inconceivable that she should be so lighthearted. Perhaps she was trying to show that she was happy. The supper proceeded, and the lights, the surrounding gaiety, the champagne, made everyone more lively. Their host was in uproarious spirits. He told a story or two at which everyone laughed. Oliver Haddo had an amusing anecdote handy. It was a little risky, but it was so funnily narrated that everyone roared but Arthur, who remained in perfect silence. Margaret had been drinking glass after glass of wine, and no sooner had her husband finished than she capped his story with another. But whereas his was wittily immoral, hers was simply gross. At first the other women could not understand to what she was tending, but when they saw, they looked down awkwardly at their plates. Arbuthnot, Haddo, and the other man who was there laughed very heartily; but Arthur flushed to the roots of his hair. He felt horribly uncomfortable. He was ashamed. He dared not look at Margaret. It was inconceivable that from her exquisite mouth such indecency should issue. Margaret, apparently quite unconscious of the effect she had produced, went on talking and laughing.
Soon the lights were put out, and Arthur's agony was ended. He wanted to rush away, to hide his face, to forget the sight of her and her gaiety, above all to forget that story. It was horrible, horrible.
She shook hands with him quite lightly.
'You must come and see us one day. We've got rooms at the Carlton.'
He bowed and did not answer. Susie had gone to the dressing-room to get her cloak. She stood at the door when Margaret came out.
'Can we drop you anywhere?' said Margaret. 'You must come and see us when you have nothing better to do.'
Susie threw back her head. Arthur was standing just in front of them looking down at the ground in complete abstraction.
'Do you see him?' she said, in a low voice quivering with indignation. 'That is what you have made him.'
He looked up at that moment and turned upon them his sunken, tormented eyes. They saw his wan, pallid face with its look of hopeless woe.
'Do you know that he's killing himself on your account? He can't sleep at night. He's suffered the tortures of the damned. Oh, I hope you'll suffer as he's suffered!'
'I wonder that you blame me,' said Margaret. 'You ought to be rather grateful.'
'Why?'
'You're not going to deny that you've loved him passionately from the first day you saw him? Do you think I didn't see that you cared for him in Paris? You care for him now more than ever.'
Susie felt suddenly sick at heart. She had never dreamt that her secret was discovered. Margaret gave a bitter little laugh and walked past her.
12
Arthur Burdon spent two or three days in a state of utter uncertainty, but at last the idea he had in mind grew so compelling as to overcome all objections. He went to the Carlton and asked for Margaret. He had learnt from the porter that Haddo was gone out and so counted on finding her alone. A simple device enabled him to avoid sending up his name. When he was shown into her private room Margaret was sitting down. She neither read nor worked.
'You told me I might call upon you,' said Arthur.
She stood up without answering, and turned deathly pale.
'May I sit down?' he asked.
She bowed her head. For a moment they looked at one another in silence. Arthur suddenly forgot all he had prepared to say. His intrusion seemed intolerable.
'Why have you come?' she said hoarsely.
They both felt that it was useless to attempt the conventionality of society. It was impossible to deal with the polite commonplaces that ease an awkward situation.
'I thought that I might be able to help you,' he answered gravely.
'I want no help. I'm perfectly happy. I have nothing to say to you.'
She spoke hurriedly, with a certain nervousness, and her eyes were fixed anxiously on the door as though she feared that someone would come in.
'I feel that we have much to say to one another,' he insisted. 'If it is inconvenient for us to talk here, will you not come and see me?'
'He'd know,' she cried suddenly, as if the words were dragged out of her. 'D'you think anything can be hidden from him?'
Arthur glanced at her. He was horrified by the terror that was in her eyes. In the full light of day a change was plain in her expression. Her face was strangely drawn, and pinched, and there was in it a constant look as of a person cowed. Arthur turned away.
'I want you to know that I do not blame you in the least for anything you did. No action of yours can ever lessen my affection for you.'
'Oh, why did you come here? Why do you torture me by saying such things?'
She burst on a sudden into a flood of tears, and walked excitedly up and down the room.
'Oh, if you wanted me to be punished for the pain I've caused you, you can triumph now. Susie said she hoped I'd suffer all the agony that I've made you suffer. If she only knew!'
Margaret gave a hysterical laugh. She flung herself on her knees by Arthur's side and seized his hands.
'Did you think I didn't see? My heart bled when I looked at your poor wan face and your tortured eyes. Oh, you've changed. I could never have believed that a man could change so much in so few months, and it's I who've caused it all. Oh, Arthur, Arthur, you must forgive me. And you must pity me.'
'But there's nothing to forgive, darling,' he cried.
She looked at him steadily. Her eyes now were shining with a hard brightness.
'You say that, but you don't really think it. And yet if you only knew, all that I have endured is on your account.'
She made a great effort to be calm.
'What do you mean?' said Arthur.
'He never loved me, he would never have thought of me if he hadn't wanted to wound you in what you treasured most. He hated you, and he's made me what I am so that you might suffer. It isn't I who did all this, but a devil within me; it isn't I who lied to you and left you and caused you all this unhappiness.'
She rose to her feet and sighed deeply.
'Once, I thought he was dying, and I helped him. I took him into the studio and gave him water. And he gained some dreadful power over me so that I've been like wax in his hands. All my will has disappeared, and I have to do his bidding. And if I try to resist ...'
Her face twitched with pain and fear.
'I've found out everything since. I know that on that day when he seemed to be at the point of death, he was merely playing a trick on me, and he got Susie out of the way by sending a telegram from a girl whose name he had seen on a photograph. I've heard him roar with laughter at his cleverness.'
She stopped suddenly, and a look of frightful agony crossed her face.
'And at this very minute, for all I know, it may be by his influence that I say this to you, so that he may cause you still greater suffering by allowing me to tell you that he never cared for me. You know now that my life is hell, and his vengeance is complete.'