THE COLLECTED WORKS OF E. F. BENSON (Illustrated Edition). E. F. Benson

       Waldenech's appearance did not belie him: he both looked and felt very wicked indeed. The sight of Dodo so soon to become the mother of another man's child had caused to break out into hideous activity a volcano that had long smoldered under the slag and ashes of his drunken and debauched days, and he flamed with a jealousy the more passionate because it had so long slumbered. He felt confused and bewildered by the violence of this unexpected passion, and, as Dodo had said, he felt he must steady himself. He wanted to think clearly and constructively, to determine exactly what he must do, and how he must do it. At present he knew only of one necessity, that, even as he had taken Dodo away from Jack years ago, so now he must take Jack away from Dodo. The particular old brandy, taken in sufficient quantities, would clear his head, and enable him to think out ways and means.

      He shut himself into his sitting-room at the Ritz, and by degrees the monstrous nightmare-like lucidity that alcohol brings to heavy drinkers brightened in his brain, and he sat there emancipated from all moral laws, and thought clearly and connectedly, seeing himself and his desires as the legitimate center of all existence; nothing else and nobody else could be reckoned with. His jealousy that had shot flaming up, no longer flared and flickered: it shone with a steady and tremendous light, a beacon to guide him, and show him the way he must follow. What should happen to himself he did not care, nor did it enter into his calculations: most likely it would be better when he had accounted for Jack to account for himself also. That would arrange itself: he would see, when the time came, how he felt about it. And the time had better be soon, for there was no reason for delay. But he pushed away from him a glass which he had just refilled: he had drunk himself steady, and knew that if he went on he would drink himself maudlin and confused again. It would have been strange if by this time he did not know the stages, even as a man knows the stairs in his own house.

      He sat still a moment longer, rehearsing in his mind what he had taken so long to construct. He would go to the house in Eaton Square, so that Dodo would be there, and he would see her look on what he had done. To make the picture complete that touch was necessary, though he did not want to hurt her. Then he would have finished with them, and would finish with himself, instead of waiting for the farce of a trial, and the ignominy of what must follow.

      The afternoon had already waned, and looking at his watch he saw that it was after seven. That was a suitable hour to go on his errand, for it was probable that Jack would be at home now, soon to dress for dinner. As he got up to get from his despatch-box the revolver that he knew was there, he saw the glass of brandy which a little while ago he had pushed away from him, still standing there, and from habit merely he drank it off. Then he put the weapon, completely loaded, into his pocket, and took one more look round before leaving the room. Somehow deep down in him, and smothered and shadowed, was some vague repugnance towards what he was going to do, and once more, forgetful of his resolution not to trespass on the steadiness of nerves the spirit brought him, he refilled and emptied his glass. That, he felt sure, would soon stifle any conflicting voices within him. His plan was actively seated in his brain; inertia, almost, would achieve it.

      He had been indoors all the afternoon, and an instinct for fresh air and the evening breeze caused him to go on foot across the Green Park. The air was fresh but coldish, and it or the extra brandy he had just taken seemed quickly to harmonize and quiet that vague jangle of repugnance that twanged discordantly in his mind, and he became reconciled to himself again. But the wish not to hurt Dodo became rather more pronounced in his poor fuddled brain. He had to kill Jack, but he hoped she would not mind very much: he could make her understand surely that he was obliged to do it. He had always been devoted to her, even when he most outraged the merest decencies of their married life, and this morning the sight of her glorious beauty had wakened not jealousy only. She was superb in her wonderful womanhood: she was more beautiful now than she had ever been, and Nadine was not fit to sit beside her.

      It was with surprise that he saw he had come to the house. A motor was at the door, which stood open. On the pavement there was a footman bearing a coat and hat, holding a rug in his hand: another, bareheaded, stood by the door. Waldenech told himself that he had come very opportunely, for it was clear that they would soon come out.

      He hesitated a moment, swaying a little where he stood, not certain whether he should just wait for them, or go into the house. Soon he decided to take this latter course, for it was possible that Dodo or Nadine might be going without Jack, and seeing him standing there would ask him what he wanted. That risked his whole plan: they might suspect something, and with one hand in his coat pocket, where his fingers grasped the thing he had brought with him, he went up the three steps that led to the front door.

      "Is Lord Chesterford in?" he asked.

      "Yes, sir. But his Lordship is just going out," said the man.

      "Please tell him that Prince Waldenech would like to speak to him. I shall not detain his Lordship more than a moment!"