The Forsyte Saga, Volume 3(7)
‘Meant to trek today as best we could. Set up a pile of stones and left despatch for Hallorsen, telling him the whole story in case he ever does send back for me; then changed my mind. I shall stick it out here till he comes or till we’re dead, which is on the whole more likely…’
And so on through a tale of struggle to the end. Dinny laid down the dim and yellowed record and leaned her elbow on the sill. The silence and the coldness of the light out there had chilled her spirit. She no longer felt in fighting mood. Hubert was right. Why show one’s naked soul, one’s sore finger, to the public? No! Better anything than that. Private strings – yes, they should be pulled; and she would pull them for all she was worth.
Chapter Four
ADRIAN CHERRELL was one of those confirmed countrymen who live in towns. His job confined him to London, where he presided over a collection of anthropological remains. He was poring over a maxilla from New Guinea, which had been accorded a very fine reception in the Press, and had just said to himself: ‘The thing’s a phlizz. Just a low type of Homo Sapiens,’ when his janitor announced:
‘Young lady to see you, sir – Miss Cherrell, I think.’
‘Ask her in, James’; and he thought: ‘If that’s Dinny, where did I put my wits?’
‘Oh! Dinny! Canrobert says that this maxilla is pre-Trinil. Mokley says Paulo-post-Piltdown; and Eldon P. Burbank says propter Rhodesian. I say Sapiens; observe that molar.’
‘I do, Uncle Adrian.’
‘Too human altogether. That man had toothache. Toothache was probably the result of artistic development. Altamiran art and Cromagnon cavities are found together. Homo Sapiens, this chap.’
‘No toothache without wisdom – how cheery! I’ve come up to see Uncle Hilary and Uncle Lawrence, but I thought if I had lunch with you first, I should feel stronger.’
‘We shall,’ said Adrian, ‘therefore go to the Bulgarian café.’
‘Why?’
‘Because for the moment we shall get good food there. It’s the latest propaganda restaurant, my dear, so we are probably safe at a moderate price. Do you want to powder your nose?’
‘Yes.’
‘In here, then.’
While she was gone Adrian stood and stroked his goatee and wondered exactly what he could order for eighteen and sixpence; for, being a public servant without private means, he rarely had more than a pound in his pocket.
‘What,’ said Dinny, when they were seated before an omelette Bulgarienne, ‘do you know about Professor Hallorsen, Uncle Adrian?’
‘The man who set out to discover the sources of civilization in Bolivia?’
‘Yes; and took Hubert with him.’
‘Ah! But left him behind, I gather?’
‘Did you ever meet him?’
‘I did. I met him in 1920, climbing the “Little Sinner” in the Dolomites.’
‘Did you like him?’
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, he was so aggressively young, he beat me to the top, and – he reminded me of baseball. Did you ever see baseball played?’
‘No.’
‘I saw it once in Washington. You insult your opponent so as to shake his nerve. You call him doughboy and attaboy, and President Wilson and Old Man Ribber, and things like that, just when he’s going to hit the ball. It’s ritual. The point is to win at any cost.’
‘Don’t you believe in winning at any cost?’
‘Nobody says they do, Dinny.’
‘And we all try to when it comes to the point?’
‘I have known it occur, even with politicians, Dinny.’
‘Would you try to win at any cost, Uncle?’
‘Probably.’
‘You wouldn’t. I should.’
‘You are very kind, my dear; but why this local disparagement?’
‘Because I feel as bloodthirsty as a mosquito about Hubert’s case. I spent last night reading his diary.’
‘Woman,’ said Adrian, slowly, ‘has not yet lost her divine irresponsibility.’
‘Do you think we’re in danger of losing it?’
‘No, because whatever your sex may say, you never will annihilate man’s innate sense of leading you about.’
‘What is the best way to annihilate a man like Hallorsen, Uncle Adrian?’
‘Apart from a club, ridicule.’
‘His notion about Bolivian civilization was absurd, I suppose?’
‘Wholly. There are, we know, some curious and unexplained stone monsters up there, but his theory, if I understand it, won’t wash at all. Only, my dear, Hubert would appear to be involved in it.’
‘Not scientifically; he just went as transport officer.’ And Dinny levelled a smile at her Uncle’s eyes. ‘It wouldn’t do any harm, would it, to hold up a stunt like that to ridicule? You could do it so beautifully, Uncle.’