 Part 3, Chapter 7, Man of Property this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org This reading by Lucy Burgoyne The foresight saga Man of Property by John Gellsworthy Part 3, Chapter 7, June's Victory June had waited for her chance Scanning the duller columns of the journals morning and evening with an acidity which had first puzzled old Jolian And when her chance came she took it with all the promptitude and resolute tenacity of her character She will always remember best in her life that morning when at last she saw amongst the reliable cause list of the Times newspaper Under the heading of Court 13, Mr. Justice Bentham, the case of foresight versus Bosnian Like a gambler who stakes his last piece of money She had prepared to hazard her all upon this throw. It was not her nature to contemplate defeat How unless with the instinct of a woman in love she knew that Bosnian's Disconfiture in this action was assured cannot be told on this assumption however, she laid her plans as upon a certainty her past 11 found her at watch in the gallery of Court 13 and There she remained till the case of foresight versus Bosnian was over Bosnian's absence did not disquiet her. She had felt instinctively that he would not defend himself At the end of the judgment she hastened down and took a cab to his rooms She passed the open street door and the officers on the three lower floors without attracting notice Not till she reached the top did her difficulties begin Her ring was not answered She had now to make up her mind whether she would go down and ask the caretaker in the basement To let her in to await mr. Bosnian's return or remain patiently outside the door Trusting that no one would come up She decided on the latter course a Quarter of an hour had passed in freezing vigil on the landing Before it occurred to her that Bosnian had been used to leave the key of these rooms under the door mat She looked and found it there for some minutes She could not decide to make use of it at last She let herself in and left the door open that anyone who came might see she was there on business This was not the same June who had paid the trembling visit five months ago Those months of suffering and restraint had made her less sensitive She had dwelt on this visit so long with such minuteness that its terrors were discounted beforehand She was not there to fail this time for if she failed no one could help her Like some mother beast on the watch over a young her little quick finger never stood still in that room That wandered from wall to wall from window to door Fingering now one thing now another There was dust everywhere the room could not have been cleaned for weeks and June quick to catch at anything that should boy up her hope Saw in it a sign that he had been obliged for economy's sake to give up his servant She looked into the bedroom the bed was roughly made as though by the hand of man Listening intently she darted in and peered into his cupboards a few shirts and collars a pair of muddy boots The room was bare even of garments She stole back to the sitting room and now she noticed the absence of all the little things He had set store by the clock that had been his mother's the field glasses that had hung over the sofa two really valuable old prints of Harrow where his father had been at school and Last not least the piece of Japanese pottery. She herself had given him All were gone and Inspired the rage roused within her champion soul at the thought that the world should treat him thus Their disappearance all but happily for the success of her plan It was while looking at the spot where the piece of Japanese pottery had stood that she felt a strange certainty of being watched and Turning saw Irene in the open doorway The two stood gazing at each other for a minute in silence Then June walked forward and held out her hand Irene did not take it When her hand was refused June put it behind her Her eyes grew steady with anger. She waited for Irene to speak And thus waiting took in with who knows what rage of jealousy suspicion and curiosity Every detail of a friend's face and dress and figure Irene was clothed in a long gray fur the traveling cap on her head left a wave of gold hair visible above her forehead The soft fullness of the coat made her face as small as the child's Unlike June's cheeks her cheeks had no color in them that were ivory white and pinched as if with cold Dark circles lay round her eyes In one hand she held a bunch of violets She looked back at June no smile on her lips and with those great dark eyes Fastened on her the girl for all her startled anger felt something of the old spell She spoke first after all What have you come for But the feeling that she herself was being asked the same question made her add This horrible case. I came to tell him he has lost it Irene did not speak her eyes never moved from June's face and the girl cried Don't stand there as if you were made a stone Irene laugh. I wish to god I were But June turned away stop. She cried. Don't tell me. I don't want to hear I don't want to hear what you've come for. I don't want to hear And like some uneasy spirit. She began swiftly walking to and fro suddenly she broke out I was here first. We can't both stay here together On Irene's face a smile wandered up and died out like a flicker of firelight She did not move and then it was that June perceived under the softness and immobility of this figure Something desperate and resolved Something not to be turned away Something dangerous She tore off her hat and putting both hands to her brow Pressed back the bronze mess of her hair You have no right here. She cried defiantly Irene answered I have no right anywhere What do you mean? I have left zones. You always wanted me to June put her hand over her ears Don't I don't want to hear anything. I don't want to know anything It's impossible to fight with you. What makes you stand like that? Why don't you go? Irene's lips moved. She seemed to be saying where should I go? June turned to the window. She could see the face of a clock down in the street It was nearly four at any moment. He might come She looked back across her shoulder and her face was distorted with anger But Irene had not moved in her gloved hands She ceaselessly turned and twisted the little bunch of violets The tears of rage and disappointment rolled down June's cheeks How could you come she said you have been a false friend to me Again Irene laughed June saw that she had played a wrong card and broke down Why have you come she sobbed you've ruined my life and now you want to ruin his Irene's mouth quivered her eyes met June's with a look so mournful that the girl cried out in the midst of her sobbing no no But Irene's head bent till it touched her breast She turned and went quickly out hiding her lips with the little bunch of violets June ran to the door. She heard the footsteps going down and down She called out come back Irene come back The footsteps died away Bewildered and torn the girl stood at the top of the stairs Why had Irene gone leaving her mistress of the field? What did it mean had she really given him up to her or had she And she was the prey of a gnawing uncertainty Bosney did not come About six o'clock that afternoon old jollion returned from wisteria avenue. We're now almost every day He spent some hours and asked if his granddaughter were upstairs On being told that she had just come in He sent up to her room to request her to come down and speak to him He had made up his mind to tell her that he was reconciled with her father In future bygones must be bygones He would no longer live alone or practically alone in this great house He was going to give it up and take one in the country for his son Where they could all go and live together If June did not like this she could have an allowance and live by herself It wouldn't make much difference to her Thor it was a long time since she had shown him any affection But when June came down her face was pinched and piteous There was a strained pathetic look in her eyes She snuggled up in her old attitude on the arm of his chair And what he said compared but poorly with the clear Authoritative injured statement he had thought out with much care His heart felt sore as the great heart of a mother bird Feel sore when its youngling flies and bruises its wing His words halted as though he were apologising for having at last Deviated from the path of virtue and succumbed in defiance of sound the principles To his more natural instincts He seemed nervous lest in thus announcing his intentions He should be setting his granddaughter a bad example and now that he came to the point His way of putting the suggestion that if she didn't like it she could live by herself and lump it Was delicate in the extreme And if by any chance my darling he said You found you didn't get on with them why I could make that all right You could have what you liked we could find a little flat in London Where you could set up and I could be running too continually But the children he added are dear little things Then in the midst of this grave rather transparent explanation of change policy His eyes twinkled this will astonish Timothy's weak nerves That precious young thing will have something to say about this or I'm a Dutchman June had not yet spoken perched thus on the arm of his chair with a head above him Her face was invisible but presently he felt her warm cheek against his own And knew that at all events there was nothing very alarming in her attitude towards his news He began to take courage You like your father he said an amiable chap Never was much push about him but easy to get on with you'll find him artistic and all that And old jolly and bethought him of the dozen or so watercolour drawings all carefully locked up In his bedroom the now that his son was going to become a man of property He did not think them quite such poor things as here to fall As to your your stepmother he said Using the word was some little difficulty I call her a refined woman a bit of a mrs. Gummage I shouldn't wonder that very fond of joe And the children he repeated Indeed this sentence ran life music through all his solemn self justification Our sweet little things If June had known those words that reincarnated that tender love for little children For the young and weak which in the past had made him desert his son for a tiny soul And now as the cycle rolled was taking him from her But he began to get alarmed at her silence and asked him patiently Well, what do you say? June slid down to his knee and she in her turn begun her tale She thought it would all go splendidly She did not see any difficulty and she did not care a bit what people thought Old joe and wriggled Then people would think he had thought that after all these years, perhaps they wouldn't Well, he couldn't help it nevertheless He could not approve of his granddaughter's way of putting it She ought to mind what people thought Yet he said nothing His feelings were too mixed too inconsistent for expression No went on June he did not care what business was it of theirs There was only one thing and with her cheek pressing against his knee Old joe and knew at once that this something was no trifle As he was going to buy a house in the country Would he not to please her by that splendid house of soams at Robin Hill It was finished. It was perfectly beautiful and no one would live in it now They would all be so happy there Old joe and was on the alert at once Wasn't the man of property going to live in his new house then? He never alluded to soams now under this title No, June said he was not she knew that he was not How did she know she could not tell him but she knew She knew nearly for certain. It was most unlikely circumstances had changed Irene's words still rung in her head I have left soams. Where should I go? But she kept silence about that If her grandfather would only buy it and settle that wretched claim that ought never to have been made on fill It would be the very best thing for everybody and everything Everything might come straight And June put her lips to his forehead and pressed them close That old joe and freed himself from her caress His face wore the judicial look which came upon it when he dealt with affairs He asked what did she mean? There was something behind all this had she been seeing bosony June answered no, but I had been to his rooms Been to his rooms. Who took you there? June faced him steadily. I went alone. He has lost that case I don't care whether it was right or wrong. I want to help him and I will Old joe and asked again. Have you seen him? His glance seemed to pierce right through the girl's eyes into her soul Again June answered no. He was not there. I waited, but he did not come Old joe and made a movement of relief She had risen and looked down at him So slight and light and young But so fixed and so determined and disturbed Fixed as he was he could not frown away that fixed look The feeling of being beaten of the reins having slipped of being old and tired Mastered him Ah, he said at last you'll get yourself in a mess one of these days I can see you want your own way in everything Visited by one of his strange bursts of philosophy he added Like that you were bored and like that you'll stay until you die And he who in his dealings with men of business With boards with four sites of all descriptions Which such as were not four sites had always had his own way Looked at his indomitable grandchild sadly For he felt in her that quality which above all others he unconsciously admired Do you know what they say is going on? He said slowly June crimsoned Yes, no, I know and I don't know. I don't care and she stamped her foot I believe said old jollian Dropping his eyes that you'd have him if he were dead There was a long silence before he spoke again But as to buy in this house, you don't know what you're talking about June said that she did She knew that he could get it if he wanted He would only have to give what it cost What it cost you know nothing about it I won't go to Psalms. I'll have nothing more to do with that young man But you needn't you can go to our uncle James if you can't buy the house Will you pay his lawsuit claim? I know he's terribly hard up. I've seen it. You can stop it out of my money A twinkle came into old jolly and sighs Stop it out of your money a pretty way And what will you do pray without your money? But secretly the idea of resting the house from James and his son had begun to take hold of him He had heard on foresight change much comment much rather doubtful praise of this house It was too artistic but a fine place To take from the man of property that on which he had set his heart Would be a crowning triumph over james Practical proof that he was going to make a man a property of joe To put him back in his proper position and there to keep him secure Just as once for all on those who had chosen to regard his son as a poor Penelous outcast He would see he would see It might be out of the question He was not going to pay a fancy price, but if it could be done why perhaps he would do it And still more secretly he knew that he could not refuse her But he did not commit himself He would think it over. He said to june End of part three chapter seven Part three chapter number eight of the man of property This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Ava Harnick The foresight saga the man of property by John Galswersy Part three chapter eight was in his departure All Julian was not given to hasty decisions It is probable that he would have continued to think over the purchase of the house at Robin hill Had not june's face told him that he would have no peace until he acted At breakfast next morning. She asked him what time she should order the carriage Carriage he said with some appearance of innocence. What for I am not going out She answered if you don't go early, you won't catch uncle James before he goes into the city James What about your uncle James The house she replied in such a voice that he no longer pretended ignorance I have not made up my mind. He said you must you must oh grand think of me Oh Julian grumbled out Think of you. I am always thinking of you, but you don't think of yourself You don't think what you are letting yourself in for Well order the carriage at 10 At a quarter past he was placing his umbrella in the standard park lane He did not choose to relinquish his hat and coat telling wormson that he wanted to see his master He went without being announced into the study and sat down James was still in the dining room talking to soams who had come around again before breakfast On hearing who his visitor was he muttered nervously now. What does he want? I wonder He then got up Well, he said to soams Don't you go doing anything in a hurry? The first thing is to find out where she is I should go to stainers about it. They are the best man if they can't find her nobody can And suddenly moved to strange softness. He muttered to himself Poor little saying I can't tell what she was thinking about and went out blowing his nose All jollion did not rise on seeing his brother But held out his hand and exchanged with him the clasp of a foresight James took another chair by the table and leaned his head on his hand Well, he said, how are you? We don't see much of you nowadays All jollion paid no attention to the remark How is Emily he asked and waiting for no reply went on I have come to see you about this affair of young boson is I am told that new house of his is a white elephant I don't know anything about the white elephant said james. I know he has lost his case And I should say he will go bankrupt All jollion was not slow to seize the opportunity this gave him I shouldn't wonder a bit he agreed and if he goes bankrupt The man of property that is soams will be out of pocket Now what I was thinking was this if he is not going to live there Seeing both surprise and suspicion in James's eye he quickly went on I don't want to know anything. I suppose Irene has put her foot down It is not material to me But I am thinking of her house in the country myself not too far from London And if it suited me I don't say that I might not look at it at a price James listened to this statement with a strange mixture of doubt suspicion and relief Merging in the dread of something behind and tinged with the remains Of his old undoubted reliance upon his elder brother's good face and judgment There was anxiety too as to what old jollion could have had and how he had heard it And a sort of hopefulness arising from the sort that if june's connection with bozini were completely at an end Her grandfather would hardly seem anxious to help the young fella Altogether he was puzzled as he did not like either to show this or to commit himself in any way he said They tell me you are altering your will in favour of your son He had not been told this he had merely added the fact of having seen old jollion with his son and grandchildren To the fact that he had taken his will away from foresight busted and foresight The shot went home Who told you that asked old jollion. I'm sure I don't know said James. I can't remember names I know somebody told me some spent a lot of money on this house He's not likely to part with it except at a good price Well said old jollion if he thinks I'm going to pay a fancy price. He's mistaken I have not got the money to throw away that he seems to have Let him try and sell it at a forced sale and see what he will get It is not every man's house. I hear James who was secretly also this opinion answered It's a gentleman's house Somes is here now if you would like to see him No said old jollion. I have not got as far as that and I'm not likely to I can see that very well If I am met in this manner James was a little cowed when it came to the actual figures of a commercial transaction He was sure of himself for then he was dealing with facts not with men But preliminary negotiations such as these made him nervous He never knew quite how far he could go Well, he said I know nothing about it Somes. He tells me nothing I should think he would entertain it. It is a question of price Oh said old jollion don't let him make a favor of it He placed his hat on his head in dungeon The door was opened and Somes came in There is a policeman out here. He said with his half smile for uncle jollion Old jollion looked at him angrily and James said a policeman I don't know anything about the policeman, but I suppose you know something about him He added to old jollion with a look of suspicion I suppose you had better see him In the hall an inspector of police stood stolidly regarding with heavily Did pale blue eyes the fine old furniture picked up by James at the famous Mavrojano sale in Portman Square You'll find my brother in there said James The inspector raised his fingers respectfully to his peaked cap and entered the study James saw him go in with a strange sensation Well, he said to Somes. I suppose we must wait and see what he wants Your uncle has been here about the house He returned with Somes into the dining room but could not rest Now what does he want? He murmured again Who replied Somes the inspector? They sent him round from Stanhope Gate. That is all I know That non conformist of uncle jollions has been pilfering. I shouldn't wonder But in spite of his calmness he too was ill at ease At the end of ten minutes old jollion came in He walked up to the table and stood there perfectly silent pulling at his long white moustaches James gazed up at him with opening mouths He had never seen his brother look like this Old jollion raised his hand and sat slowly Young Bosny has been run over in the fog and killed Then standing above his brother and his nephew and looking down at him with his deep eyes There is some talk of suicide. He said James's jaw dropped suicide. What should he do that for? Old jollion answered Stanley. God knows if you and your son don't But James did not reply For all men of great age even for all foresight Life has had bitter experiences The passerby who sees them wrapped in cloaks of custom wealth and comfort Would never suspect that such black shadows had fallen on their roads To every man of great age to serve Walter Benham himself The idea of suicide has once at least been present in the enter room of his soul On the threshold waiting to enter Held out from the inmost chamber by some chance reality Some vague fear some painful hope To foresight's that final renunciation of property is hard Oh it is hard Sell them perhaps never can they achieve it And yet how near have they not sometimes been? So even with James Then in the medley of his thoughts he broke out Why I saw it in the paper yesterday Run over in the fog They did not know his name He turned from one face to the other in his confusion of soul But instinctively all the time he was rejecting that rumor of suicide He dared not entertain this thought So against his interest Against the interest of his son Of every foresight He strove against it And as his nature ever unconsciously rejected that which it could not with safety accept So gradually he overcame this fear It was an accident It must have been All Jolion broke in on his reverie This was instantaneous He lay all day yesterday at the hospital There was nothing to tell them who he was I am going there now and you and your son had better come too No one opposing this command he led the way from the room The day was still and clear and bright And driving over to Park Lane from Stanhope Gate All Jolion had had the carriage open Sitting back on the padded cushions finishing his cigar He had noticed with pleasure The keen crispness of the air The bustle of the cabs and people The strange almost Parisian alacrity That the first fine day will bring into London streets after a spell of fog or rain And he felt so happy He had not felt like it for months His confession to June was of his mind He had the prospect of his sons above all of his grandchildren's company in the future He had appointed to meet young Jolion at the Hodgepodge that very morning To discuss it again and there was the pleasurable excitement of a coming encounter A coming victory over James and the man of property in the matter of the house He had the carriage closed now He had no heart to look on gaity Nor was it right that foresight should be seen driving with an inspector of police In that carriage the inspector spoke again of the death It was not so very sick just there The driver says the gentleman must have had time to see what he was about He seemed to walk right into it It appears that he was very hard up We found several pawn tickets at his rooms His account at the bank is overdrawn And there is this case in today's papers His cold blue eyes traveled from one to another Of the three force sites in the carriage All Jolion watching from his corner Saw his brother's face change and the brooding worried look deepened on it At the inspector's words indeed all James's doubts and fears revived Hard up pawn tickets an overdrawn account These words that had all his life been a far off nightmare to him Seemed to make uncannily real that suspicion of suicide Which must on no account be entertained He sought his son's eyes But links eyed taciturn immovable Some scape no answering look And to all Jolion watching Divining the league of mutual defense between them There came an over mastering desire to have his own son at his side As though this visit to the dead man's body Was a battle in which otherwise he must single-handed meet those two And the thought of how to keep June's name out of the business kept Wiring in his brain James had his son to support him Why should he not send for Jolion Taking out his card case he penciled the following message Come round at once I have sent the carriage for you On getting out he gave this card to his coachman Telling him to drive as fast as possible to the Hodgepodge club And if Mr Jolion foresight were there to give him the card and bring him at once If not there yet he was to wait till he came He followed the other slowly up the steps leaning on his umbrella And stood a moment to get his brass The inspector said this is the mortuary sir but take your time In the bare white-walled room empty of all but a streak of sunshine smeared along the Dustless floor lay a form covered by a sheet With a huge steady hand the inspector took the ham and turned it back A sightless face gazed up at them And on either side of that sightless defiant face the three four sides gazed down In each one of them the secret emotions fears and pity of his own nature rose And fell like the rising falling waves of life Whose wish those white walls barred out now forever from Bosini And in each one of them the trend of his nature The odd essential spring which moved him in fashions minutely unalterably different From those of every other human being forced him to a different attitude of sort Far from the others yet inscrutably close each stood thus alone with death Silent his eyes lowered The inspector asked softly you identified the gentleman sir All jolly on raised his head and nodded He looked at his brother opposite at that long limb figure brooding over the dead man This face dusky red and strained gray eyes And that the figure of psalms white and still by his father's side And all that that he had felt against those two was gone like smoke in the long white presence of death Whence comes it how comes it this Sudden reverse of all that goes before blind setting force on a pass that leads to wear Dark quenching of the fire The heavy brutal crushing out that all men must go through Keeping their eyes clear and brave on to the end Small and of no import insects though they are And across all jollions face their flittered a gleam For psalms murmuring to the inspector cracked noiselessly away Then suddenly James raised his eyes There was a queer appeal in that suspicious troubled look I know I'm no match for you it seemed to say And hunting for handkerchief He wiped his bra then bending sorrowful and lank over the dead man He too turned and hurried out All jollions stood still as death his eyes fixed on the body Who shall tell or what he was thinking Of himself when his hair was brown like the hair of that young fella Dead before him Of himself with his battle just beginning the long long battle he had loved The battle that was over for this young man almost before it had begun Of his granddaughter with her broken hopes Of that other woman of the strangeness and the pity of it And the irony inscrutable and bitter of that end Justice there was no justice for man for they were ever in the dark Or perhaps in his philosophy he sought better to be out of it it all Better to have done with it like this poor youth Someone touched him on the arm A tear started up and wetted his eyelash Well he said I am no good here I had better be going you'll come to me as soon as you can Joe And with his head bowed he went away It was young jollions turn to take his stand beside the dead man Round whose fallen body he seemed to see all the four sides Bressless and prostrated the stroke had fallen too swiftly The forces underlying every tragedy forces that take no denial working Through cross currents to their ironical end had met and fused with a thunderclap Flung out the victim and flattened to the ground all those that stood around Or so at all events young jollions seemed to see them lying around boss in his body He asked the inspector to tell him what had happened And the latter like a man who does not every day get such a chance Again detailed such facts as were known There is more here sir however he said than meets the eye I don't believe in suicide nor in pure accident myself It is more likely I think that he was suffering under great stress of mind And took no notice of things about him Perhaps you can throw some light on these He took from his pocket a little packet and laid it on the table Carefully undoing it he revealed a lady's handkerchief Pints through the folds with a pin of discolored Venetian gold The stone of which had fallen from the socket Ascent of dried violets rose to young jollions nostrils Found in his breast pocket said the inspector The name has been cut away Young jollions with difficulty answered I'm afraid I cannot help you But vividly there rose before him the face he had seen light up so tremulous And glad at boss in his coming Of her he sought more than of his own daughter More than of them all Of her with the dark soft glance The delicate passive face Waiting for the dead man waiting even at that moment Perhaps still and patient in the sunlight He walked sorrowfully awake from the hospital That's his father's house Reflecting that this desk would break up the foresight family The stroke had indeed slipped past their defenses Into the very wood of their tree They might flourish to all appearance as before Preserving a brave show before the eyes of London But the trunk was dead Wizard by the same flash that had stricken down boss in a And now the saplings would take its place Each one a new custodian of the sense of property Good forest of foresight sought young jollion Sounded as timber of our land Concerning the cause of this desk His family would doubtless reject with vigor The suspicion of suicide which was so compromising They would take it as an accident A stroke of fate In their hearts They would even feel it an intervention or providence A retribution Had not Bosini endangered their two most priceless possessions The pocket and the hearse And they would talk of that unfortunate accident of young Bosinis But perhaps they would not talk Silence might be better As for himself He regarded the bus driver's account of the accident as a very little value For no one so madly in love committed suicide for want of money Nor was Bosini the sort of fellow to set much store by a financial crisis And so he too rejected this theory of suicide The dead man's face rose too clearly before him Gone in the heyday of his summer And to believe thus that an accident had cut Bosini off In the full sweep of his passion Was more than ever pitiful to young jollion Then came a vision of Somes' home as it now was And must be hereafter The streak of lightning had flashed its clear uncanny gleam on bare bones With grinning spaces between the disguising flesh was gone In the dining room at Stenhope Gate Old Jollion was sitting alone when his son came in He looked very van in his great armchair And his eyes traveling round the walls with the pictures of his son The walls with the pictures of still life and the masterpiece Dutch fishing boats at sunset seemed as though passing their gaze over his life With its hopes, its gains, its achievements Ah Jo, he said, is that you? I have told poor little Joon, but that is not all of it Are you going to Somes'? She has brought it on herself, I suppose But somehow I can't bear to think of her Shut up there and all alone And holding up his sin-wind hand, he clenched it End of Part 3, Chapter 8 Bosini's departure, recording by Eva Harnick Part 3, Chapter 9 of The Man of Property This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Eva Harnick The foresight saga, The Man of Property By John Gorswersi Part 3, Chapter 9, Irene's Return After leaving James and old Julian in the mortuary at the hospital, Somes hurried aimlessly along the streets The tragic event of Bosini's death altered the complexion of everything There was no longer the same feeling that to lose a minute would be fatal Nor would he now risk communicating the fact of his wife's flight to anyone till the inquest was over That morning he had risen early, before the postman came, had taken the first post-letters from the box himself And though there had been none from Irene, he had made an opportunity of telling Billson That her mistress was at sea, he would probably, he said, be going down himself from Saturday to Monday This had given him time to breathe, time to leave no stone unturned to find her But now cut off from taking steps by Bosini's death, that strange death, to single which was like putting a hot iron to his heart, like lifting a great weight from it He did not know how to pass his day, and he wandered here and there through the streets Looking at every face he met, devoured by a hundred anxieties And as he wandered, he sought of him who had finished his wandering, his prowling And would never hunt his house again Already in the afternoon he passed posters announcing the identity of the dead man And bought the papers to see what they said He would stop their mouse if he could And he went into the city and was closeted with Bolter for a long time On his way home, passing the steps of Jobsons, about half-past four, he met George Forsythe Who held out an evening paper to Somes saying, Here, have you seen this about the poor Buccaneer? Somes unsaid stonely, yes George stared at him He had never liked Somes, he now held him responsible for Bosnian's death Somes had done for him, done for him by that act of property that had sent the Buccaneer to run amok that fatal afternoon The poor fellow he was thinking was so cracked with jealousy, so cracked for his vengeance That he heard nothing of the omnibus in that infernal fog Somes had done for him, and this judgment was in George's eyes They talk of suicide here, he said at last That cat won't jump Somes shook his head, an accident, he muttered Clenching his fist on the paper, George crammed it into his pocket He could not resist a parting shot Huh, all flourishing at home, any little Somes as yet With a face as white as the steps of Jobsons, and the lip raised as if snarling, Somes brushed past him and was gone On reaching home and entering the little lighted hall with his latch-gate, the first thing that caught his eye was his wife's gold-mounted umbrella lying on the rug-chest Flinging off his fur coat, he hurried to the drawing-room The curtains were drawn for the night, a bright fire of cedar logs burned in the grate And by its light he saw Irene sitting in her usual corner on the sofa He shut the door softly and went towards her She did not move and did not seem to see him So you have come back, he said, why are you sitting here in the dark? Then he caught sight of her face so white and motionless that it seemed as though the blood must have stopped flowing in her veins And her eyes, that looked enormous, like the great, wide, startled, brown eyes of an hour Huddled in her gray fur against the sofa cushions, she had a strange resemblance to a captive owl, bunched fur its soft feathers against the wires of a cage The supple erectness of her figure was gone, as though she had been broken by cruel exercise, as though there were no longer any reason for being beautiful and supple and erect So you have come back, he repeated She never looked up and never spoke, the firelight playing over her motionless figure Suddenly she tried to rise, but he prevented her It was then that he understood She had come back, like an animal wounded to death, not knowing where to turn, not knowing what she was doing The sight of her figure huddled in the fur was enough He knew then for certain that Bosini had been her lover Knew that she had seen the report of his death Perhaps, like himself, had bought a paper at the droughty corner of a street and read it She had come back then of her own accord to the cage she had pined to be free of And taking in all the tremendous significance of this, he longed to cry Take your hated body that I love out of my house Take away that pitiful white face so cruel and soft before I crush it Get out of my sight, never let me see you again And at those unspoken words, he seemed to see her rise And move away, like a woman in a terrible dream, from which she was fighting to awake Rise and go out into the dark and cold, without a thought of him, without so much as the knowledge of his presence Then he cried, contradicting what he had not yet spoken No, stay there And turning away from her, he sat down in his accustomed chair on the other side of the house They sat in silence And some sort, why is all this? Why should I suffer so? What have I done? It is not my fault Again he looked at her, huddled like a bird that is shot and dying, whose poor breast you see panting as the air is taken from it Whose poor eyes look at you who have shot it, with a slow, soft, unseen look Taking farewell of all that is good, of the sun and the air and its mate So they sat by the firelight in the silence, one on each side of the house And the fume of the burning cedar logs, that he loved so well, seemed to grip stones by the throat Till he could bear it no longer And going out into the hall, he flung the door wide, to gulp down the cold air that came in Then, without hat or overcoat, went out into the square Along the garden rails, a half-starved cat came rubbing her way towards him, and some sought Suffering, when will it cease my suffering? At the front door, across the way, was a man of his acquaintance, named Rutter, scraping his boots with an air of iron-master hair, and soams walked on From far in the clear air the bells of the church, where he and Irene had been married, were peeling in practice for the advent of Christ, the chimes ringing out above the sound of traffic He felt a craving for strong ting, to lull him to indifference, or rouse him to fury If only he could burst out of himself, out of this web, that for the first time in his life, he felt around him If only he could surrender to the sword, divorce her, turn her out, she has forgotten you Forget her! If only he could surrender to the sword, let her go, she has suffered enough If only he could surrender to the desire, make a slave of her, she is in your power If only even he could surrender to the sudden vision, what does it all matter? Forget himself for a minute, forget that it mattered what he did, forget whatever he did, he must sacrifice something, if only he could act on an impulse He could forget nothing, surrender no thought, vision or desire, it was all too serious, too close around him, an unbreakable cage On the far side of the square, newspaper boys were calling their evening wands, and the ghoulish cries mingled and jangled with the sound of those church bells Somes covered his ears, the sword fleshed across him, that but for restaurants he, himself, and not bosony might be lying dead, and she instead of crouching there, like a shot bird with those dying eyes, something soft touched his legs, the cat was rubbing herself against them, and the sob that shook him from head to foot burst from Somes' chest, then all was still again in the dark, where the houses seemed to stare at him, each with a master and mistress of its own, and the secret story of happiness or sorrow And suddenly he saw that his own door was open, and black against the light from the whole, a man standing with his back turned, something slit too in his breast and he stole up close behind, he could see his own fur coat flung across the carved oak chair, the Persian rugs, the silver bowls, the rows of porcelain plates arranged along the walls, and this unknown man who was standing there, and sharply he asked, what is it you want sir? The visitor turned, it was young Jolian, the door was open he said, might I see your wife for a minute, I have a message for her, Somes gave him a strange side long stare, my wife can see no one, he muttered dodgedly, young Jolian answered gently, I shouldn't keep her a minute, Somes brushed by him and barred away, she can see no one, he said again, young Jolian's glance shot past him into the hall and Somes turned, there in the drawing room Dove stood Irene, her eyes were wild and eager, her lips were parted, her hands outstretched, in the sight of both men that light vanished from her face, her hands dropped to her sides, she stood like stone, Somes spun around and met his visitor's eyes, and at the look he saw in them a sound like a snarl escaped him, he drew his lips back in the ghost of a smile, this is my house he said, I manage my own affairs, I have told you once, I tell you again, we are not at home, and in young Jolian's face he slammed the door, end of part three, chapter nine, Irene's return, end of the man of property, by Johns Galswersi, recording by Eva Harnick.