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In A London Garden
by
“This is terrible,” said Alfred Simpson. “I had no idea of it. But I have done lots of other good things. I refused to go in for a competitive examination and take up a valuable post, in order that some other man might enjoy it.”
“I know,” said the old man again. “The other man got it; he had not your mental equipment and he was not equal to it. He bungled badly and disgraced himself. That’s him over there, the man with the bullet-hole in his temples. It was his hand that held the revolver, but it was you who shot him, Alfred Simpson.”
“This is most distressing,” said Alfred. “If I could have foreseen this kind of thing, I should certainly have revised my ideas. I should have drawn out another scheme for my life altogether. But as it is, I must have done some good. I lent large sums of money without interest.”
“I know,” said the old man once more. “And by so doing you have turned various people who might have had self-respect and industry into worthless wastrels. The souls of some of them are waiting now to give evidence against you.”
“It is very sad,” said Alfred, “that things do not turn out as one intends. One of my last acts on earth was to allow a man to steal my watch and chain. I suppose it is useless to plead that this was a good action.”
“Quite. How can you suppose it to be a good action to put such a premium on dishonesty?”
Then the door of the waiting-room opened and there stood there a most gigantic policeman.
“Alfred Simpson,” he called, in a fruity and resonant voice.
“Here I am,” said Alfred meekly. “Could you tell me what I am charged with?”
“You know perfectly well,” said the policeman. “You are charged with starting the millennium before it was ready.”
The shock awoke him. He rose and walked to his father’s house. His dire necessities and abject condition broke down the alienation which had existed between him and his family, and he was welcomed as the returned prodigal. On the following morning, decently attired, with a bundle of IOU’s in his pocket, he started across Regent’s Park to call upon his solicitor. On his way he met a shabby man who looked in all directions at once. The shabby man saw him and ran. Alfred ran also. He caught the shabby man in an unfrequented part of the park, took from him fourpence in bronze, which was all that he possessed, and administered to him an extremely thorough hiding.
He handed the bundle of IOU’s to his solicitor. Those who could pay in full were to pay in full. Those who could pay in part were to pay in part. Those who could not pay were to be left alone. Nobody was to be ruined, but Alfred Simpson was to have some of his money back.
And later, some two years later, he married the widow of Hector Brown. He is on his way to take up an important post in India, and she accompanies him. They say that she looks quite young and pretty again. She is certainly quite happy with her husband, though there are some who think him a little too selfish and dictatorial.
CHAPTER VI
NIGHT IN THE GARDEN: AND THE STORY OF “THE GHOSTLY MUSIC”
There are many things that may bring a man, normally sociable, into that state of mind when it is not desirable that he shall dine out. Too many wrong numbers on the telephone, too many visitors, too much talk–anything in fact that jangles the nerves may be the cause. In my case the cause was unimportant and uninteresting, but I was undoubtedly in that state of mind. I had to dine out, and I had not the feeling of gratitude which would have better become me. The idea of dining out filled me with rage and despair–disproportionate, ludicrous, but quite real. I recalled the words of a woman who had been through many seasons. “I want,” she said to me earnestly, “to be asked to everything and to go to nothing.”