Reginald in Russia | Page 6

comment as the door closed on
Egbert's retreat. Then he lifted his velvet forepaws in the air and leapt
lightly on to a bookshelf immediately under the bullfinch's cage. It was
the first time he had seemed to notice the bird's existence, but he was
carrying out a long-formed theory of action with the precision of
mature deliberation. The bullfinch, who had fancied himself something
of a despot, depressed himself of a sudden into a third of his normal
displacement; then he fell to a helpless wing-beating and shrill
cheeping. He had cost twenty-seven shillings without the cage, but
Lady Anne made no sign of interfering. She had been dead for two
hours.

THE LOST SANJAK

The prison Chaplain entered the condemned's cell for the last time, to
give such consolation as he might.
"The only consolation I crave for," said the condemned, "is to tell my
story in its entirety to some one who will at least give it a respectful
hearing."
"We must not be too long over it," said the Chaplain, looking at his
watch.
The condemned repressed a shiver and commenced.
"Most people will be of opinion that I am paying the penalty of my own
violent deeds. In reality I am a victim to a lack of specialisation in my
education and character."
"Lack of specialisation!" said the Chaplain.
"Yes. If I had been known as one of the few men in England familiar
with the fauna of the Outer Hebrides, or able to repeat stanzas of
Camoens' poetry in the original, I should have had no difficulty in
proving my identity in the crisis when my identity became a matter of
life and death for me. But my education was merely a moderately good
one, and my temperament was of the general order that avoids
specialisation. I know a little in a general way about gardening and
history and old masters, but I could never tell you off-hand whether
'Stella van der Loopen' was a chrysanthemum or a heroine of the
American War of Independence, or something by Romney in the
Louvre."
The Chaplain shifted uneasily in his seat. Now that the alternatives had
been suggested they all seemed dreadfully possible.
"I fell in love, or thought I did, with the local doctor's wife," continued
the condemned. "Why I should have done so, I cannot say, for I do not
remember that she possessed any particular attractions of mind or body.
On looking back at past events if seems to me that she must have been
distinctly ordinary, but I suppose the doctor had fallen in love with her
once, and what man had done man can do. She appeared to be pleased
with the attentions which I paid her, and to that extent I suppose I
might say she encouraged me, but I think she was honestly unaware
that I meant anything more than a little neighbourly interest. When one
is face to face with Death one wishes to be just."

The Chaplain murmured approval. "At any rate, she was genuinely
horrified when I took advantage of the doctor's absence one evening to
declare what I believed to be my passion. She begged me to pass out of
her life, and I could scarcely do otherwise than agree, though I hadn't
the dimmest idea of how it was to be done. In novels and plays I knew
it was a regular occurrence, and if you mistook a lady's sentiments or
intentions you went off to India and did things on the frontier as a
matter of course. As I stumbled along the doctor's carriagedrive I had
no very clear idea as to what my line of action was to be, but I had a
vague feeling that I must look at the Times Atlas before going to bed.
Then, on the dark and lonely highway, I came suddenly on a dead
body."
The Chaplain's interest in the story visibly quickened.
"Judging by the clothes it wore, the corpse was that of a Salvation
Army captain. Some shocking accident seemed to have struck him
down, and the head was crushed and battered out of all human
semblance. Probably, I thought, a motor-car fatality; and then, with a
sudden overmastering insistence, came another thought, that here was a
remarkable opportunity for losing my identity and passing out of the
life of the doctor's wife for ever. No tiresome and risky voyage to
distant lands, but a mere exchange of clothes and identity with the
unknown victim of an unwitnessed accident. With considerable
difficulty I undressed the corpse, and clothed it anew in my own
garments. Any one who has valeted a dead Salvation Army captain in
an uncertain light will appreciate the difficulty. With the idea,
presumably, of inducing the doctor's wife to leave her husband's