Flames | Page 6

off. How he must hate you, Val. Hulloh! What's that?"
"What?"
"Who's that laughing outside? Has Wade got a friend in to-night?"
"Not that I know of. I didn't hear anything."
Valentine touched the electric bell, and his man appeared.
"Any one in with you to-night, Wade?" he asked.
The man looked surprised.
"No, sir; certainly not, sir."
"Oh! Don't sit up; we may be late to-night. And we don't want anything more, except--yes, bring another couple of sodas."
"Yes, sir."
He brought them and vanished. A moment later they heard the front door of the flat close. The butler was married and slept out of the house. Valentine had no servant sleeping in the flat. He preferred to be alone at night.
CHAPTER III
EPISODE OF THE FIRST SITTING
"Now, then," said Valentine, "let us be absurd and try this sitting. Shall we clear this little table?"
"Yes. It's just the right size. It might do for three people, but certainly not for more."
"There! Now, then."
And, as the clock struck twelve, Valentine turned off the electric light, and they sat down with their hands upon the table. The room was only very dimly illuminated by the fire on the hearth, where Rip slept on, indifferent to their proceedings.
"I suppose nothing could go wrong," Julian said, after a moment of silence.
"Wrong!"
"Yes. I don't know exactly what Marr meant, but he said that if unsuitable people sit together any amount of harm can result from it."
"What sort of harm?"
"I don't know."
"H'm! I expect that is all nonsense, like the rest of his remarks. Anyhow, Julian, no two people could ever hit it off better than you and I do. Wait a second."
He jumped up and drew the curtain over the door. Wade had pulled it back when he came in.
"I must have that curtain altered," Valentine said. "It is so badly hung that whenever the door is opened, it falls half way back, and looks hideous. That is better."
He sat down again.
"We won't talk," he said.
"No. We'll give the--whatever it is every chance."
They were silent.
Presently--it might have been a quarter of an hour--Julian said suddenly:
"Do you feel anything?"
"'M--no," Valentine answered, rather doubtfully.
"Sure?"
"I think so."
"You can't merely think you are sure, old chap."
"Well, then--yes, I'll say I am sure."
"Right," rejoined Julian.
Again there was a silence, broken this time by Valentine.
"Why did you ask me?" he said.
"Oh! no special reason. I just wanted to know."
"Then you didn't?"
"Didn't what?"
"Feel anything?"
"No; nothing particular."
"Well, what do you mean by that?"
"What I say. I can't be sure it was anything."
"That's vague."
"So was my--I can't even call it exactly sensation. It was so very slight. In fact, I'm as good as sure I felt nothing at all. It was a mere fancy. Nothing more."
And then again they were silent. The fire gradually died down until the room grew quite dark. Presently Valentine said:
"Hulloh! here is Rip up against my foot. He is cold without the fire, poor little beggar."
"Shall we stop?" asked Julian.
"Yes; I vote we do--for to-night."
Valentine struck a match, felt for the knob of the electric light, and turned it on. Julian and he looked at each other, blinking.
"Think there's anything in it?" asked Julian.
"I don't know," said Valentine. "I suppose not. Rip! Rip! He is cold. Did you ever see a dog shiver like that?"
He picked the little creature up in his arms. It nestled against his shoulder with a deep sigh.
"Well, we have made a beginning," he said, turning to pour out a drink. "It is rather interesting."
Julian was lighting a cigarette.
"Yes; it is--very." he answered.
Valentine gave him a brandy and soda; then, as if struck by a sudden thought, asked:
"You really didn't feel anything?"
"No."
"Nor I. But then, Julian, why do we find it interesting?"
Julian looked puzzled.
"Hang it! I don't know," he answered, after an instant of reflection. "Why do we? I wonder."
"That is what I am wondering."
He flicked the ash from his cigarette.
"But I don't come to any conclusion," he presently added, meditatively. "We sit in the dark for an hour and a quarter, with our hands solemnly spread out upon a table; we don't talk; the table doesn't move; we hear no sound; we see nothing; we feel nothing that we have not felt before. And yet we find the function interesting. This problem of sensation is simply insoluble. I cannot work it out."
"It is awfully puzzling," said Julian. "I suppose our nerves must have been subtly excited because the thing was an absolute novelty."
"Possibly. But, if so, we are a couple of children, mere schoolboys."
"That's rather refreshing, however undignified. If we sit long enough, we may even recover our long-lost babyhood."
And so they laughed the matter easily away. Soon afterwards, however, Julian got up to go home to his chambers. Valentine went towards the door, intending to open it and get his friend's coat. Suddenly he stopped.
"Strange!" he exclaimed.
"What's the row?"
"Look at the door, Julian."
"Well?"
"Don't