‘Please, Mr Tamburlane,’ cried Griselda weakly, but still, she thought, firmly.
Mr Tamburlane turned a little away from her, groaned slightly, and addressed himself to the space formerly occupied by Kynaston. His voice was low and throbbing. ‘Гхгз, гхнбйоὶ куумпн Ю уйгЮ ϕЭсей,’ said Mr Tamburlane.
Griselda turned her back on him and called to Kynaston. ‘Can you come and help?’
‘What do you suggest?’ said Kynaston from the doorstep. He seemed almost shifty.
Griselda looked up at the cabman; who again lifted his little flap and in accents of deep distaste uttered another single word.
‘Scram.’
The effect was surprising. The horse reared a little, neighed noisily, and clattered away down the street. The tumult of his shoes on the granite setts was considerable. As the vehicle disappeared from sight it seemed for some reason to be swaying from one wheel to the other. The driver looked to have lost his reins and, at undoubted peril, to be erect on his perch expostulating. Soon, however, all was quiet once more and Kynaston was holding back the heavy front door, covered with letter-box flaps each with several names, for Griselda to enter.
‘Thank God that’s over,’ said Kynaston.
‘I don’t want Mr Tamburlane to be hurt,’ said Griselda.
‘I expect a policeman will pull them up soon. The police are always doing things like that. Anything rather than have him back. It’s most unfortunate how strongly I attract that type of man. Young or old, it always happens. I regularly appeal to the wrong type in both sexes. I wish I attracted you, Griselda.’ He stopped groping for the switch and began to grope for Griselda.
‘Let me advise you to recover the cash.’ A door had opened on to the dark hall and Barney was looking out. Kynaston saw the switch and turned on the light.
‘Thank you very much,’ said Griselda. ‘I will.’ She had forgotten her two important half-crowns.
She returned to the gutter but the coins were not to be seen.
‘Can’t you find them?’ It was Kynaston, once more at the top of the steps.
‘Come and help to look for them.’
He remained in the shadow. ‘I’m better at losing than finding.’
‘Let me look.’ It was Barney. He wore a check shirt and brown trousers. He descended to his hands and knees, and crawled along, striking matches.
‘Please don’t trouble.’
‘How much was it?’
‘Five shillings.’
‘No trouble.’
Kynaston was clearly bored. He still seemed uneasy.
‘It’s very good of you.’
‘Five shillings is five shillings.’ Barney groped along like a small brown bear taught to let off a train of tiny fireworks.
‘Please stop now. It really doesn’t matter.’
Barney resumed the human posture. ‘The scum of the earth live round here. They wouldn’t miss a chance like that.’ The street seemed deserted. ‘Would you allow me to reduce the loss? I imagine Geoffrey’s in his usual condition.’ He put his hand in his trousers pocket and offered Griselda half-a-crown.
‘Certainly not. I mean thank you very much; but No thank you. It really doesn’t matter at all,’ Griselda added extenuatingly.
‘Please yourself.’
‘I do mean thank you all the same.’
‘So long as you know what you mean.’
Kynaston was looking embarrassed. He changed the subject.
‘Is Dykes in?’
‘I suppose so. Why?’
‘We want to look at the empty flat.’
‘Empty what?’
‘Empty room.’
‘We?’
‘I’m going to marry Griselda. Griselda de Reptonville. Barney Lazarus.’
Griselda had heard of him. Paintings by Barney Lazarus were sometimes mentioned by the Art Critics of The Times. She hard understood that he painted mostly Mothers.
‘How do you do?’ said Barney. They shook hands on the pavement. ‘I cannot possibly congratulate you.’
‘It’s the man you congratulate,’ said Kynaston.
‘That remains to be seen,’ said Barney, looking Griselda up and down. ‘I’ve known Geoffrey for years,’ he remarked to her, ‘and I would rather marry King Kong.’
‘I don’t know King Kong,’ remarked Griselda, smiling sweetly.
XXI
Dykes, who lived entirely in what had once been the larder of the house (the other rooms in the basement being let to tenants), proved to be wholly drunk. Roused by Kynaston, he stumbled up the battered stair singing snatches of old songs. His memory being ruined by the bottle, however, he was unable to recall which room was to let. Furthermore, having forgotten all he had ever learnt at school (if not more), he was incapable of distinguishing between the numbers on the different doors. The three of them bounced and crashed from amorous routines to solidary drudgeries until Kynaston asserted ‘I am sure Monica said Number Thirteen.’
He and Griselda climbed another flight; but Dykes said his heart would carry him no higher. ‘We may not need a key,’ said Kynaston. ‘I daresay it’s lost.’
Across the landing before them, a dark brown door was inscribed 13. Kynaston turned the claborate brass handle and entered without obstacle (the key being on the inside); then sagged back, standing upon Griselda’s toe.
‘Good God, Lotus,’ he said faintly and peevishly, ‘this is really too much.’
The room was medium sized, middlingly furnished in a style unexpectedly like Greenwood Tree House, painted in the same dark brown as the door, and with hideous paper leaving the walls and ceiling. Standing on the dust coloured carpet was the girl who had shouted from the upper window. At closer quarters, she was still wildly beautiful, with well kept golden-red hair, bright green eyes, a prominent somewhat Iberian nose, a large but well-shaped mouth, and a perfect skin. She wore crкpe-de-chine pyjamas, intended for parties. She was rather plump, though well-proportioned; and appeared to be expensively corsetted. Griselda found her age unusually difficult to guess.
She glared at Kynaston for a moment; then at Griselda.
‘If you must be unfaithful to me, Geoffrey,’ she said in a voice as beautiful as her face, ‘then you need not insult me as well by always seducing an ingйnue. There are other mondaine women in London.’
Kynaston stood his ground remarkably well. ‘Lotus, I’m going to marry Griselda. Griselda de Reptonville. Mrs Lamb.’
‘Are you insane, Geoffrey?’
‘You can’t look after me, Lotus. I thought you could, but I was wrong. I really believe Griselda can. And without bullying me, as you do. As well as being sensible, she is sweet and sympathetic. Besides you yourself refuse to marry me–’
‘I am above such a thought!’ she interrupted. Suddenly she extended her hand to Griselda. ‘Ignore my remark. It was intended only to hurt Geoffrey not you. As you love Geoffrey, you must forgive me for that also.’
‘I don’t love Geoffrey.’ replied Griselda, smiling and shaking Lotus’s hand.
‘Perfect. That’s the only possible basis for marriage.’
‘I’m not going to marry.’
‘Monica told me you’d gone away,’ said Kynaston interrupting.
‘I’ve come back. I’m living with Barney now.’
‘I suppose that also is intended to hurt me.’
‘Certainly. And it’s quite true.’
‘You’ve been quick enough.’
‘And you? Or is this merely another Doris Ditton?’ Turning to Griselda she added: ‘Please don’t think I mean anything personal.’
‘I’m going to marry Griselda.’