7   WHAT WILL BE THE END OF IT ALL

    Elsa was working all day. Before night she was tired. But whenever she was able, she went out for her meal to a restaurant or got something at a night club. She did not do this only because of the food; but because she had hopes that someone would see her -- and then be in love with her.
    Elsa would say to herself : " Possibly someone will see something in me, and then I may get married." After a time she was able to take this idea seriously. It made her sad heart happier. It was something to put against that question which came so frequently into her mind : " What will be the end of it all ?"
    Elsa was the daughter of a Sergeant in the Guards. Hour after hour of her early days had gone by hearing her father giving orders to his men. She kept her eyes fixed on the men walking up and down outside the Palace, and took great pleasure in the " Changing of the Guard". But in harmony with all this colour and rhythm there was a song in her heart about " doing better for herself".
    When she was older she would not get married to a common man in the army. She would get married to the sort of man who is desired by other women, and, having no idea what sort of man this was, Elsa had to make him up.
    He would be smiling all the time, like the great men she had seen at the pictures, and he would give Elsa a beautiful opera coat which she would have on when she was seated by his side in places full of bright lights, with waiters full of respect, and food at fully five times its true value. He would give her a cigarette out of a gold box, get it lighted for her, bent over the table, looking into her eyes. Elsa had seen the great men at the pictures do this, but she had no idea what sort of things it was right for them to say or what their talk was like, because talking pictures did not come in till later.
    When Elsa was old enough, she made a start " to do better for herself ". She went on the stage, she did some work in a hat-store, she was to be seen dancing at night clubs -- taking part violently in the complex round of amusement by which one does better for oneself.
    Elsa was good—looking but not beautiful ; a little common, and very simple. She did her best, without any special powers, without uncommon qualities, or very great attraction, to get married, and what was equally hard, to go on making a living. She was unable to do it ; it was over hard for her.
    She was not like those " girls of good family ", who seemed to get on all right without money, taking this and that on the way, till they got a man who was well-off -- they were the daughters of men of position in the army, and not the daughters of common Sergeants. They were not troubled by the doubt, " What will be the end of it all ?" because they were certain. For them the end was in View right from the start.
    It was when Elsa was learning about the fight for existence and hating it that Claude came. The man with whom she had been dancing that night was a friend of his, and so he had got into talk with her. There was a smile on his face all the time ; he gave her a cigarette out of a gold box, and, bent over the table, he got it lighted for her, looking into her eyes. He said things in a sharp American voice and as if he was very certain of himself, so that it put Elsa in mind of every talking-picture star.
    A week later they were married. There was nothing in the way of their getting married ; her father was dead, and she had no mother. At times Claude said something about his family in America, but his family did not ever seem to give any sign of existence or to get any nearer to them.
    Claude took Elsa to the South of France. She went about at Cannes, and took pleasure in not having any doubts any more about where to get a meal, or how to make payment for it when she had had it, The question in her mind had been put to rest -- she no longer said to herself : " What will be the end of it all ?"
    Elsa took it as probable that the man to whom she was married was well-off, because he was all the time playing for money. Sometimes she saw him playing ; she had no knowledge of the rules, but it seemed to her that he came out on top every time. She was very pleased that things went well with him.
    But they had most of their meals in the top-price restaurants, full of persons and noise, and sometimes Claude had two or three of his best friends in to a late meal. They were all his card-room friends ; Claude was up late every night playing for money, so that it seemed to Elsa that she had no knowledge of his way of living, because she had no knowledge of cards.
    Sometimes he gave her some account of his existence before they were married. There were stories of a young American girl who had come in for a great amount of money, of a parting later, of his days on Long Island; of automobiles, horses, boats. But these stories of high living did not give Elsa the feeling that she had any better knowledge of him; in fact, hearing him, the picture-star person to whom she had got married, became, though more interesting to her, at the same time more impossible.
    And there was something strange about his stories ; if only because there was so much unsaid in them. He said nothing about himself between eighteen and twenty-three. Elsa was unable to get out of him what he had been doing then. There was a space -- a hole. He said nothing about it.
    At first this secret was only a little thing, but it quickly took a grip of her till she had no other thought. It became her complete existence. Her daytime thoughts were full of those five years in his existence of which she had no know- ledge. They kept her awake at night, and sometimes the thought of them made her so tired that she went to sleep.
    One night in her sleep she seemed to see him as a prisoner, and she was happy because she had at last got an answer ; but she quickly became conscious that it was not the right answer, and so she was no nearer. She had a look at her watch -- it was five. Claude would have gone to bed. He had been playing cards with some friends -- new friends. They had come to have a meal with Claude and Elsa. She took it as probable that Claude had got a great amount of money from them -- he did well every time; things had gone well with him from his birth. Some persons were like that.
    Elsa got up -- she put on a coat and went in the direction of the living-room. She was not certain what she was going to do. Eighteen to twenty-three -- she had no thought for anything but those five years of which she had no knowledge. She had an idea there might be some papers, some pictures or letters, in his writing-table which might give her some idea. ” He would not see her, because he would be sleeping ; his sleep was deep whenever he had done well at cards.
    But when she got to the glass door, she saw by the shade against it that Claude was still there. He was by himself. Suddenly she had a feeling of fear. It was no good going back, because if she had seen him, then without doubt he had seen her. So she got the door open and went in.
    Elsa said, " What is wrong ?" She made an attempt not to let him see her fear.
    " Money ", he said. " Everything went wrong tonight. It was foolish of me, playing with men like that ; but I might have seen what they were -- it was clear they weren’t straight because they were so well-dressed ".
    " But I don’t see why ", said Elsa. " Why do you say that when they may have only done well by chance ?"
    " I don’t see why. " He said the words after her, copying her. His voice was cutting. " Are you acting ? Isn’t there only one way of doing well at cards -- all the time ?"
    There was a strange, violent look about him which put fear into Elsa. She went quickly from the room, and he was by himself again.
    And so he was not straight at cards ! Elsa was not truly very much troubled ; in fact she was quite pleased. That was the sort of thing you saw at the pictures ! The idea of it ! She was married to a man who got his living by tricking others at cards. Naturally all his money had gone, but that was not important. He would make it again. But had he been a card-player all the time ? It was not possible that at eighteen years old he had had a knowledge of cards and made money out of them all the time.
    She went softly back again and had a look through the glass door into the living-room. It was not so dark now, so that she was able to see Claude’s outline more clearly. He seemed to be overcome by some sort of shock ; naturally the loss of all his money was a very serious thing. There was something strange about the way he was walking -- under the weight of strong feeling. Something about it, in addition, which she seemed to have seen before -- that quick walk, those long steps, that turn, and then again those sharp, sudden steps.
    This was something in Elsa’s experience -- the red-coats outside the Palace. All her early days came back to her -- the hours she had given up to watching the military and to thoughts about " doing better for herself ".
    And so everything she had done had been to no purpose : the store with hats no one was interested in; the stage on which she had got so tired and done no good ; the night clubs where she had gone dancing in the hopes of someone falling in love with her.
    She had got married to Claude -- a common man in the army. . .
    What had been the end of it all ? The question came back into Elsa’s mind, and this time there was an answer. She was right back at the start.

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8   SAFE AT LAST

    " How sad for him -- and with all that money !" everyone said of Lord Calvery. But most men have not got millions ; and Lord Calvery was much less unhappy than he might have been. In fact, if he had not been well-off, his trouble might have been more than he would have been able to put up with, because he was naturally unhappy.
    At one time he had done well in Copper, and when he was getting worse he took care to give even more attention to detail than before -- and detail is the most important thing in that sort of business. So day by day, while his income was increasing, he became tighter with his money.
    Lord Calvery was a kind man but not an open—handed one. He readily made use of his income for himself. But he had a fear of anyone profiting by one halfpenny of what he had.
    He had the greatest fear of being forced to do one open-handed act on impulse 91 which might make him do more acts of the same sort for the rest of his days. It was for this reason that he kept on moving from place to place, not ever resting long enough in the same town for the outside covering of his self-love to be attacked by any one special person.
    North, South, East, West, went Lord Calvery. He came to have the feeling that he was quite a Marco Polo ; but for a man who had not got the use of his legs, there were no rough places to go through, no mountains to go up. He had no knowledge of any conditions without comfort, only great Hotels. He had no knowledge of men and women, only of international societies in the mass-- persons who, with different names, are much the same everywhere.
    They would see the society notes of the New York Herald, and the word would go round.
    " Calvery is here."
    " Where ?"
    " At the Ritz, naturally ?
    And so they would come to his rooms for mixed drinks and foolish talk, making him tired with the cheap, bright sayings of the day. But it was uncertain if Lord 92 Calvery himself was conscious how tired he was of it all. He had been well-off and ill for so long that he had no memory of what it was like to get amusement out of things.
    In fact, he was only conscious of what it was to be in fear -- in fear of the desires of others. The desires of poor young men to get started in business. The desire of women, with eight ornaments on one far from beautiful arm, to have nine --and then ten. It was an unending process, because even when one arm had been covered completely with jewels all the way down, there was the other arm still uncovered and desiring stones -- all the way up. Lord Calvery had a fear of all women who were not safely married. An ill man with pleasing ways who had millions, and had not long before become Lord Calvery, was, he was certain of it, the very man for whom all women were looking ; and one of them might get married to him for his jewel-giving powers.
    So, with fear driving him on, he was all the time starting off for another town, another Ritz, and another mass of international persons. But even this moving
93 all the time from place to place was not a way out of his trouble. His fear had made him conscious that anyone who was not ill was able to go quicker than he; and that one of these days he would get to a new Ritz to see his friends all there, waiting for him by the office. He would be wheeled slowly in, resting back in his seat, and they would all come dancing about, saying with forced smiles how happy they were to see him.
    " Hullo, Lord Calvery! We’ve been here for hours. Let’s have a meal together."
    Lord Calvery had a secret feeling that somewhere on the earth there were others who were kind and had soft hearts, with no desire for any more money than they had ; but then, they would have no desire for Ritz Hotels or Lord Calvery. His money, in fact, was the only thing he had to his credit, and persons who had enough love of money became his best friends. But he himself had no love for anyone at all, and the reason for their love was of no interest to him. It was possible to get used to being loved for money, but it was not possible to get used to being got at for money.
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    And so he took to making a secret about when he came, when he went, and where he was going.
    He was certain that everyone had a desire to get at him. He had the memory of a time, when he had said quite by chance to a group of his friends in his rooms at the Ritz in Paris -- " Tomorrow I go to the Ritz in Barcelona," and everyone had said in answer: " How surprising, so do we ! See you there, then !"
    This had made him take more care in the future. The second time he had said equally by chance, as it seemed, " Well, probably I will not see you after tomorrow, because I am moving to the Ritz in London."
    " London ? That’s good ; we’ll be seeing you there," they had said with one voice.
    But in London there had been no well-off man of millions to give them free amusement, because Lord Calvery was on the high seas, having a meal at the Ritz on the Olympic, going to New York. He was happy, incognito, and for the first time in his existence free ; and from this minute he took a strange pleasure in his secret journeys.
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    He had a way of saying to one person that he was going to one place, to a second that he was going to another. The papers were given a third place, and, not even happy with that, he frequently made a change in his designs at the last minute, and when his boxes were ticketed and he was about to go, went off to some other town. Lord Calvery let his chin get covered by a growth of black hair, and then, to make himself different again, had it out off. His journeys became quicker, he was a shorter time in every place. But his existence got so complex that he no longer had any memory of where he was going.
    " Ritz Hotel -- yes, but where -- London, Paris, Barcelona ?"
    Lord Calvery took as much care of his money as ever, but he got older, iller, more foolish, and he was getting disgusted with the trouble of journeys. Airplanes gave him a sense of fear, so did the sea, because swimming or jumping were not within his power. Trains made him tired. Nothing gave him any pleasure. He went protesting all the time, saying to everyone that " after all he was an ill man, no one was kind to him And the more he put
96 others in mind of his feeble condition, the more he put himself in mind of his safe millions.
    " I am a man of millions," he said to himself, " What need is there for me to put up with anything ?" But out loud he had not ever said how well-off he was.
    " Millions ? " was his answer. " Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Well, in dollars possibly, I am almost good for millions."
    But what to do about this question of journeys ? Lord Calvery had come to the decision a long time before that it was necessary at all events to keep moving. Keeping in one place was more than he was able to put up with. He would be in danger from every lover of gold, from every woman looking out for a man. And he had had enough of ships, airplanes, and trains.
    And then at last he had an idea. He would go on making journeys, go to every Ritz Hotel in Europe, but he would make his journeys sleeping. He would go from Ritz to Ritz, hearing nothing, seeing nothing, conscious of nothing, till he came awake again miles away -- in a beautiful hotel bedroom in every detail like the one he had gone away from. The idea was
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certainly very pleasing to him. There were without a doubt a number of medical substances which were safe, which made one unconscious, and so gave one peace and made one free from care.
    " After all, I am an ill man," he said to himself, " and have a right to medical help; it is only a question of degree, a little less, a little more." It was not important. And existence was not so hard to put up with after sleep. There were without doubt a number of medical men who would be more ready to go round the earth with a man who was ill and well-off than to get slowly up to the top of the tree by hard work.
    Such was Lord Calvery’s argument, and as ever there was no one to say anything for or against it. He made use of advertisement, wisely, secretly, like the good business man he had been in the past. And before long the right sort of medical man came to him. And Lord Calvery, with his poor knowledge of psychology, put himself into the hands of his ready guide, and went off again on his journey from Ritz to Ritz.
    North, South, East, West, went Lord Calvery ; older, iller, more foolish still,
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and less conscious. Frequently now, he had no idea of where he was going, had no memory of the last town he had come from. The time would come, and not far off, when he would not even be conscious of which Ritz he was in at the minute. It was ever the same ; he would come awake in the same sort of bed, the same sort of room, and the same international mass of persons, with only their names changed, would be there again.
    And then sometimes one woman, quieter than the rest, would have an attraction for him, ill as he was, because she seemed to be able to give him a feeling of peace, however loud the voices of his friends. He might give her jewels -- regretting it later, and feeling that he was becoming fixed to one person. And again the smiling servant would come to him, now more secretary than medical man. He would take Lord Calvery’s banknotes and go off quickly to Cook’s. He would come back still smiling, needle in hand, and the sleeping man of millions would make a start for some other Ritz.
    " I have taken your room at the Ritz in Barcelona, Lord Calvery, but I gave
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out to the papers that you were going to Paris."
    And hours later Lord Calvery would come awake in the Ritz, and say, " So we’re off to Paris again ?"
    " No, Barcelona."
    " But the New York Herald is here, and it says, ‘Lord Calvery has come to the Ritz Hotel, Paris ’."
    " That’s only to keep the papers in the dark ; this is Barcelona all right, and London was the last place."
    " What sort of a journey did we have ?"
    " Not bad. Quite a rough sea at one time."
    " How happy I am that I was conscious of nothing," said Lord Calvery, taking a deep breath. " Well, I’m pleased we are here. I have long had a desire to see Barcelona."
    " Why ? You’ve been here before numbers of times."
    " Oh yes, that’s true ", said Lord Calvery pulling himself together quickly. " So I have, so I have ; but last time I was not feeling well, and we went away so quickly."
    But all the same he had no memory of Barcelona. 100
    And before long a mass of persons would come to see him, women who had such a natural air that it was impossible for them to be simple, and men who made such a business of pleasure that it was impossible for them to be straight. A feeling of fear for his millions would give a pull at Lord Calvery’s heart again, and he would go on -- on his unconscious way to another Ritz.
    One day he came awake in a Ritz Hotel bedroom such as he was used to, with no memory of where he had come from and where he had been going. In fact, Lord Calvery had not the least idea where he was.
    He gave a cry ; there was no answer, the medical man had gone away from the- hotel for something. He gave the bell by his bedside a ring. A Waiter who seemed the same in all hotels came to him.
    Lord Calvery was feeling tired -- ill -- it was a trouble to him to say anything at all.
    " What town is it? " he said.
    The waiter made a sign with his finger in the direction of the clock. " Half-past eleven, my Lord."
    " No, not time -- town." 101
    " That’s it, my Lord. Half-past eleven."
    " London, Paris, or New York ?" said Lord Calvery.
    " Certainly," said the waiter, with a smile, He went away quickly, and came back two or three minutes later with The London-Paris-New York Magazine.
    Lord Calvery was not strong enough for argument.
    " That’s it," he said. " It’s very good of you ! What I was looking for."
    When he was by himself, he went quickly through the list of who was where, but the name of Lord Calvery was in every Ritz. It was the same every time in every great town.
    He let the papers go down on the floor ; they had not given him an answer to his question and were of no more use to him.
    " The idea of it," he said to himself -- " I, the first Lord Calvery am here, but where -- " his brain came to a stop for a minute, at a loss -- " I have no idea."
    His eyes became wet. He was overcome by the biting humour of the position. He was so certain who he was, and still had not the least idea where he was. For the first time he was conscious of being a
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prisoner, for the first time he was feeling the loss of something in existence. He had the feeling that he had got himself into a network from which he might not ever get free. He said to himself that he would get clear about where he was before the medical man came back. He was conscious now that the man’s smooth behaviour kept secret a thousand designs.
    Slowly and in pain, he got himself to his wheel-seat, which was waiting for him in an angle of the room. It was the first serious attempt he had made to do something for himself for years. He took a look at the clock ; it had taken him three-quarters of an hour to the minute.
    He got himself to the window. There was a railed walk in front, so that he was unable to see very much. He saw only a narrow street, persons walking about dressed with the uninteresting taste of the day -- automobiles, long, low, and brightly painted. He had no idea what street it was, and he was no nearer the knowledge of what town it was.
    He got himself nearer to the window. His fingers only went as far as the shelf of the railed walk. He got a grip of it, pulling himself forward to the edge.
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    He took a look over. Still he did not see what street it was. It was a very long way down. Suddenly everyone seemed to be moving at a greater rate. Persons went quickly this way and that, like troubled ants. They came nearer to him -- looking greater, twisted, and strange. The automobile horns became louder and almost put a stop to his hearing. And then they all went from view -- he saw nothing.
    Lord Calvery went over the edge, falling violently into the street.

*   *   *

    A comforting voice : " Quite all right -- hospital automobile -- be here in a minute. "
    " How happy I am, I’m in London," said Lord Calvery in a low voice.
    " He has an idea he’s in London, poor man," said an American voice.
    " Then where . . .?" Lord Calvery made an attempt to get the name of the town.
    Everything was quiet. The street sounds, the horns, the automobiles, the footsteps, went slowly away. The knowledge would not ever be his now, there was no time for hearing or talking, because
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Lord Calvery was conscious that in two or three minutes he would be dead.

*   *   *

    The cause of death was gone into. The medical man made it clear that Lord Calvery had been in the Ritz in Paris for some years. Earlier, he said, Lord Calvery made a number of journeys. He had not generally kept in the same town for more than two or three days at a time. But for some time now, poor Lord Calvery had not been well enough to make any journeys at all, and his nerves were in such a bad condition that the medical man had been of the opinion that it was best to let him at least have the idea that he was on a journey while keeping him in one room and stopping him getting unnecessarily tired.
    This one room was by chance in the Ritz Hotel in Paris, and was in every detail like all the other rooms in all the other Ritzes in which Lord Calvery had been used to living.
    " He was getting better and feeling happier," he said ; " and he might have been with us for years if this sad end had not overtaken him."

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