The Husbands of Edith | Page 9

into that damned bed," he said to himself,
bitterly wistful.
The Customs officers had eyed him suspiciously at the border. They
evidently had been told of his strange madness in refusing to occupy
the berth he had paid for. Their examination of his effects was more
thorough than usual. It may have entered their heads that he was
standing guard over the repose of a fair accomplice. They asked so
many embarrassing and disconcerting questions that he was devoutly
relieved when they passed on, still suspicious.
The train was late, and at five o'clock he was desperately combating an
impulse to leave it at Strassburg, find lodging in a hotel, and then,
refreshed, set out for London to have it out with the malevolent

Medcroft. The disembarking of the venerable mourners, however,
restored him to a degree of his peace of mind. After all, he reviewed, it
would be cowardly and base to desert a trusting wife; he pictured her as
asleep and securely confident in his stanchness. No: he would have it
out with Medcroft at some later day.
He was congratulating himself on the acquisition of a bed--although it
might possess the odour of a bed of tuberoses--when all of his pleasant
calculations were upset by the appearance of a German burgher and his
family. It was then that he learned that these people had booked le
compartement from Strassburg to Munich.
Brock resumed his window-seat and despondently awaited the call to
breakfast. He fell sound asleep with his monocle in position; nor did it
matter to him that his hat dropped through the window and went
scuttling off across the green Rhenish fields. When next he looked at
his watch, it was eight o'clock. A small boy was standing at the end of
the passage, staring wide-eyed at him. Two little girls came piling, half
dressed, from a compartment, evidently in response to the youngster's
whispered command to hurry out and see the funny man. Brock
scowled darkly, and the trio darted swiftly into the compartment.
He dragged his stiff legs into the dining-car at Stuttgart and shoved
them under a table. The car was quite empty. As he was staring blankly
at the menu, the conducteur from his car hurried in with the word that
Madame would not breakfast until nine. She was still very sleepy.
Would Monsieur Medcroft be good enough to order her coffee and rolls
brought to her compartment at that hour? And would he mind seeing
that the maid saw to it that Raggles surely had his biscuit and a walk at
the next station?
"Raggles?" queried Brock, passing his hand over his brow. The other
shrugged his shoulders and looked askance. "Oh, yes,--I--understand,"
murmured the puzzled one, recovering himself. For the next ten
minutes he wondered who Raggles could be.
He had eaten his strawberries and was waiting for the eggs and coffee,
resentfully eying the early risers who were now coming in for their

coffee and rolls. They had slept--he could tell by the complacent
manner in which their hair was combed and by the interest they found
in the scenery which he had come, by tedious familiarity, to loathe and
scorn.
The actions of two young women near the door attracted his attention.
From their actions he suddenly gathered that they were discussing
him,--and in a more or less facetious fashion, at that. They whispered
and looked shy and grinned in a most disconcerting manner. He turned
red about the ears and began to wonder, fiercely, why his eggs and
coffee were so slow in coming. Then, to his consternation, the young
women, plainly of the serving-class, bore down upon him with abashed
smiles. He noticed for the first time that one of them was carrying a
very small child in her arms; as she came alongside, grinning
sheepishly, she extended the small one toward the astounded Brock,
and said in excellent old English:
[Illustration: Brock]
"Good morning, Mr. Medcroft." Then, with a rare inspiration, "Baby,
kiss papa--come, now."
She pushed the infant almost into Brock's face. He did not observe that
it was a beautiful child and that it had a look of terror in its eyes; he
only knew that he was glaring wildly at the fiendish nurse, the truth
slowly beating its way into his be-addled brain. For a full minute he
stared as if petrified. Then, administering a sickly grin, he sought to
bring his wits up to the requirements of the extraordinary situation. He
lifted his hand and mumbled: "Come, Raggles! I haven't a biscuit, but
here, have a roll, do. Give me a--a kiss!" He added the last in most
heroic surrender.
The nurse and the maid stared hard at him; the baby turned in affright
to cling closely to the neck of the former.