.J - First Published Second Impression Third Impression Fourth Impression Fifth Impression Sixth Impression Seventh Impression Eighth Impression Ninth Impression Tenth Impression Eleventh Impression . Reprinted (Pocket Edition) Reprinted (Modern Library) Reset and Reprinted . Uniform Edition January, 1930 January, 1930 January, 1930 February, 1930 February, 1930 February, 1930 March, 1930 March, 1930 May, 1930 June, 1930 October, 1930 January, 1932 . July, 1935 October, 1937 October, 1947 Printed in Great Britain by Tonbridge Printers Ltd., Tonbridge and London. Bound by G. & J. Kitcat Ltd., London. Plexiback Binding. Cat. No. 5055/4 1947 CHAPMAN & HALL LONDON WITH LOVE TO BRYAN AND DIANA GUINNESS "Well in our country," said Alice, still panting a little, "you'd generally get to somewhere else-if you ran very fast for a long time, as we've been doing." "A slow sort of country!" said the Queen. "Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place." If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!" "If 1 wasn't real," Alice said-half laughing through her tears, it all seemed so ridiculous-"l shouldn't be able to cry." "1 hope you don't suppose those are real tears?" Tweedledum interrupted in a tone of great contempt. -Alice Through the Looking Glass. VILE BODIES CHAPTER I IT was clearly going to be a bad crossing. With Asiatic resignation Father Rothschild S.J. put down his suitcase in the corner of the bar and went on deck. (It was a small suitcase of imitation crocodile hide. The initials stamped on it in Gothic characters were not Father Rothschild's, for he had borrowed it that morning from the valet-de-chambre of his hotel. It contained some rudimentary underclothes, six important new books in six languages, a false beard and a school atlas and gazetteer heavily annotated.) Standing on the deck Father Roths- child leant his elbows on the rail, rested his chin in his hands and surveyed the procession of passengers coming up the gangway, each face eloquent of polite misgiving. Very few of them were unknown to the Jesuit, for it was his happy knack to remember everything that could possibly be learned about every one who could possibly be of any importance. His tongue protruded very slightly and, had they not all been so concerned with luggage and the weather, someone might have observed in him a peculiar resemblance to those plaster reproductions of the gargoyles of Notre Dame which may be seen in the shop windows of artists' colourmen tinted the colour of "Old Ivory," peering intently from among stencil outfits and plasticine and tubes of water-colour paint. High above his head swung Mrs. Melrose Ape's travel-worn Packard car, bearing the dust of three continents, against the darkenin'b sky, and up the companion-way at the head of her aYJgels strode Mrs. Melrose Ape, the woman evangelist. 9 Vile Bodies "Faith. n "Here, Mrs. Ape." "Charity. " "Here, Mrs. Ape." "Fortitude. " "Here, Mrs. Ape." " Chasti ' ty Whe e . ChastJ ' ty? '" . . . . r IS . "Chastity didn't feel well, Mrs. Ape. She went below." "That girl's more trouble than she's worth. Whenever there's any packing to be done, Chastity doesn't feel well. Are all the rest here-Humility, Prudence, Divine Dis- content, Mercy, Justice and Creative Endeavour?" "Creative Endeavour lost her wings, Mrs. Ape. She got talking to a gentleman in the train. . . . Oh, there she is." "Got 'em?" asked Mrs. Ape. Too breathless to speak, Creative Endeavour nodded. (Each of the angels carried her wings in a little black box like a violin case.) "Right," said Mrs. Ape, "and just you hold on to 'em tight and not so much talking to gentlemen in trains. You're angels, not a panto, see?" The angels crowded together disconsolately. It was awful when Mrs. Ape was like this. My, how they would pinch Chastity and Creative Endeavour when they got them alone in their nightshirts. It was bad enough their going to be so sick without that they had Mrs. Ape pitching into them too. Seeing their discomfort, Mrs. Ape softened and smiled. She was nothing if not "magnetic." "Well, girls," she said, "I must be getting along. They say it's going to be rough, but don't you believe it. If you have peace in your hearts your stomach will look after itself, and remember if you do feel queer-sing. There's nothing like it." "Good-bye, Mrs. Ape, and thank you," said the angels; 10 Vile Bodies they bobbed prettily, turned about and trooped aft to the second-class part of the ship. Mrs. Ape watched them benignly, then, squaring her shoulders and looking (except that she had really no beard to speak of) every inch a sailor, strode resolutely fOITard to the first-class bar. Other prominent people were embarking, all very un- happy about the weather; to avert the terrors of sea-sick- ness they had indulged in every kind of civilised witchcraft, but they were lacking in faith. Miss Runcible was there, and Miles Malpractice, and all the Younger Set. They had spent a jolly morning strapping each other's tummies with sticking plaster (how Miss Runcible had wriggled). The Right Honourable Walter Outrage, M.P., last week's Prime Minister, was there. Before breakfast that morning (which had suffered in consequence) Mr. Outrage had taken twice the maximum dose of a patent preparation of chloral, and losing heart later had finished the bottle in the train. He moved in an uneasy trance, closely escorted by the most public-looking detective sergeants. These men had been with Mr. Outrage in Paris, and what they did not know about his goings on was not worth knowing, at least from a novelist's point of view. (When they spoke about him to each other they called him "the Right Honourable Rape," but that was more by way of being a pun about his name than a criticism of the conduct of his love affairs, in which, if the truth were known, he displayed a notable diffidence and the liability to panic.) Lady Throbbing and Mrs. Blackwater, those twin sisters whose portrait by MiIlais auctioned recently at Christie's made a rec.ord'ill rock-Cottom prices, were sitting on op,e f tile'. teak. bcm.cl1Gs cmt:.ng. apples and drinking wb.M -=-...a y Throobirrg, with late 'yictC:1 i n chic, "11 Vile Bodies called "a bottle of pop," and Mrs. Blackwater, more exotically, called "champagne," pronouncing it as though it were French. · "Surely, Kitty, that is Mr. Outrage, last week's Prime Minister. " "Nonsense, Fanny, where?" "Just in front of the two men with bowler hats, next to the clergyman." "It is certainly like his photographs. How strange he looks. " "Just like poor Throbbing. . . all that last year." ". . . And none of us even suspected . . . until they found the bottles under the board in his dressing-room. . . and we all used to think it was drink . . ." "I don't think one finds quite the same class as Prime Minister nowadays, do you think?" "They say that only one person has any influence with Mr. Outrage . . ." "At the Japanese Embassy . . ." "Of course, dear, not so loud. But tell me, Fanny, seriously, do you think really and truly Mr. Outrage has ITI" "He has a very nice figure for a man of his age." "Yes, but his age, and the bull-like type is so often disappointing. Another glass? You will be grateful for it when the ship begins to move." "I quite thought we were moving." "How absurd you are, Fanny, and yet I can't help laughing." So arm in arm and shaken by little giggles the two tipsy old ladies went down to their cabin. Of the other passengers, some had filled their ears with cotton wool, others wote smoke4:gIasses, while several ate dry captain's biscilit froLl paper bags, a:; Red Indians are said to'ea.t .snake's flesh fu make thein. g. Mrs. 12 Vile Bodies Hoop repeated feverishly over and over again a fonnula she had learned from a yogi in New York City. A few "good sailors," whose luggage bore the labels of many voyages, strode a.ggressively about smoking small, foul pipes and trying to get up a four of bridge. Two minutes before the advertised time of departure, while the first a<1monitory whistling and shouting was going on, a young man came on board carrying his bag. There was nothing particularly remarkable about his appearance. He looked exactly as young men like him do look; he was carrYing his own bag, which was disagreeably heavy, because he had no money left in francs and very little left in anything else. He had been two months in Paris writing a book and was coming home because, in the course of his correspondence, he had got engaged to be married. His name was Adam Fenwick-Symes. Father Rothschild smiled at him in a kindly manner. "I doubt whetl:1er you remember me," he said. "We met at Oxford fivl:: years ago at luncheon with the Dean of Balliol. I shall be interested to read your book when it appears-an autobiography, I understand. And may I be one of the first to congratulate you on your engagement? I am afraid YOlt will find your father-in-law a little eccentric-and forgetful. He had a nasty attack of bronchitis this winter. It's a draughty house-far too big for these days. Well, I must go below now. It is going to be rough and I aIl1 a bad sailor. We meet at Lady Metro- land's on the twelfth, if not, as I hope, before." Before Adam had time to reply the Jesuit disappeared. Suddenly the head popped back. "There is an extremely dangerous and disagreeable woman on board--a Mrs. Ape." Then he was gone again, and almost at once the boat began to slip awa.y from the quay towards the mouth of the harbour. 13 Vile Bodies Sometimes the ship pitched and sometimes she rolled and sometimes she stood quite still and shivered all over, poised above an abyss of dark water; then she would go swooping down like a scenic railway train into a windless hollow and up again with a rush into the gale; sometimes she would burrow her path, with convulsive nosings and scramblings like a terrier in a rabbit hole; and sometimes she would drop dead like a lift. It was this last movement that caused the most havoc among the passengers. \ "Oh," said the Bright Young People, "Oh, oh oh." "It's just exactly like being inside a cocktail shaker," said Miles Malpractice. "Darling, your face u de Nil." "Too, too sick-making," said Miss Runcible, with one of her rare flashes of accuracy. Kitty Blackwater and Fanny Throbbing lay one above the other in their bunks rigid from wig to toe. "I wonder, do you think the champagne . . . 1" "Kitty. " "Yes, Fanny, dear." "Kitty, 1 think, in fact, I am. sure I have some sal volatile. . . . Kitty, 1 thought that perhaps as you are nearer . . . it would really hardly be safe for me to try and descend . . . 1 might break a leg." "Not after champagne, Fanny, do you think?" "But 1 need it. Of course, dear, if it's too much trouble?" "Nothing is too much trouble, darling, you know that. But now 1 come to think of it, 1 remember, quite clearly, for a fact, that you did not pack the sal volatile." "Oh, Kitty, oh, Kitty, please. . . you would be sorry for this if 1 died . . . oh." "But 1 saw the sa! volatile on your dressing-table after your luggage had gone down, dear. I remember thinking, I must take that down to Fanny, and then, dear, I got con- fused over the tips, so you see. " 14 Vile Bodies "I . . . put . . . it . . . in . . . myself. . .. Next to my brushes . . . you . . . beast." "Oh, Fanny . . ." "Oh . . . Oh . . . Oh." To Father Rothschild no passage was worse than any other. He thought of the sufferings of the saints, the mutability of human nature, the Four Last Things, and between whiles repeated snatches of the penitential psalms. The Leader of His Majesty's Opposition lay sunk in a rather glorious coma, made splendid by dreams of Oriental imagery-()f painted paper houses; of golden dragons and gardens of almond blossom; of golden limbs and almond eyes, humble and caressing; of very small golden feet among almond blossoms; of little painted cups full of golden tea; of a golden voice singing behind a painted paper screen; of humble, caressing little golden hands and eyes shaped like almonds and the colour of night. Outside his door two very limp detective sergeants had deserted their posts. "The bloke as could make trouble on a ship like this 'ere deserves to get away with it," they said. The ship creaked in every plate, doors slammed, trunks fell about, the wind howled; the screw, now out of the water, now in, raced and churned, shaking down hat-boxes like ripe apples; but above all the roar and clatter there rose from the second-class ladies' saloon the despairing voices of Mrs. Ape's angels, in frequently broken unison, singing, singing, wildl desperately, as though their hearts would break in the effort and their minds lose their reason, Mrs. Ape's famous hymn, There ain't no flies on the Lamb of God. The . Captain and the Chief Officer sat on the bridge engros.sed in a crosiword puzzle. 1" Vile Bodies "Looks like we may get some heavy weather if the wind gets up," he said. "Shouldn't wonder if there wasn't a bit of a sea running to-night." "Well, we can't always have it quiet like this," said the Chief Officer. "Word of eighteen letters meaning carnivorous m see those angels dressed up, eh, Mr. Henderson?" "Fanny, surely that is Agatha Runcible, poor Viola Chasm's daughter?" "I wonder Viola allows her to go about like that. If she were my daughter. . . ." "Your daughter, Fanny. . . ." "Kitty, that was not kind." "My dear, I only meant. . have you, by the way, heard of her lately?" 2S Vile Bodies "The last we heard was worse than anything, Kitty. She has left Buenos Aires. I am afraid she has severed her connection with Lady Metroland altogether. They think that she is in some kind of touring company." "Darling, I'm sorry. I should never have mentioned it, but whenever I see Agatha Runcible I can't help thinking . . . girls seem to know so much nowadays. We had to learn everything for ourselves, didn't we, Fanny, and it took so long. If I'd had Agatha Runcible's chances. . . Who is the young man with her?" "I don't know, and, frankly, I don't think, do you? . . . He has that self-contained look." "He has very nice eyes. And he moves well." "I dare say when it came to the point . . . Still, as I say, if I had had Agatha Runcible's advantages. " "What are you looking for, darling?" "Why, darling, such an extraordinary thing. Here is the sa! volatile next to my brushes all the time." "Fanny, how awful of me, if I'd only known. " "I dare say there must have been another bottle you saw on the dressing-table, sweetest. Perhaps the maid put it there. You never know at the Lotti, do you?" "Fanny, forgive me . . ." "But, dearest, what is there to forgive? After all, you did see another bottle, didn't you, Kitty darling?" "Why, look, there's Miles." "Miles?" "Vour son, darling. My nephew, you know." "Miles. Do you know, Kitty, I believe it is. He never comes to see me now, the naughty boy." "My dear, he looks terribly tapette." "Darling, I know. It is a great grief to me. Only I try not to think about it too much-he had so little chance with poor Throbbing what he was." "The sins of the fathers, Fanny. " 26 Vile Bodies Somewhere not far from Maidstone Mr. Outrage became fully conscious. Opposite him in the carriage the two detectives slept, their bowler hats jammed forwards on their foreheads, their mouths open, their huge red hands lying limply in their laps. Rain beat on the windows; the carriage was intensely cold and smelt of stale tobacco. Inside there were advertisements of horrible picturesque ruins; outside in the rain were hoardings advertising patent medicines and dog biscuits. "Every Molassine dog cake wags a tail." Mr. Outrage read, and the train repeated over and over again, "Right Honourable gent, Right Honourable gent, Right Honourable gentleman, Right Honourable gent . . ." Adam got into the carriage with the Younger Set. They still looked a bit queer, but they cheered up wonderfully when they heard about Miss Runcible's outrageous treat- ment at the hands of the Customs officers. "Well," they said, "Well! how too, too shaming, Agatha, darling," they said. "How devastating, how un- policeman-like, how goat-like, how sick-making, how too, too awful." And then they began talking about Archie Schwert's party that night. "Who's Archie Schwert?" asked Adam. "Oh, he's someone new since you went away. The most bogus man. Miles discovered him, and since then he's been climbing and climbing and climbing, my dear, till he hardly knows us. He's rather sweet, really, only too terribly common, poor darling. He lives at the Ritz, and I think that's rather grand, don't you?" "Is he giving his party there?" "My dear, of course not. In Edward Throbbing's house. He's Miles' brother, you know, only he's fright- fully dim and political, and doesn't know anybody. He got ill and went to K.enya or somewhere and left his 27 Vile Bodies perfectly sheepish house in Hertford Street, so we've all gone to live there. You'd better come, too. The care- takers didn't like it a bit at first, but we gave them drinks and things, and now they're simply thrilled to the marrow about it and spend all their time cutting out 'bits,' my dear, from the papers about our goings on. "One awful thing is we haven't got a car. Miles broke it, Edward's, I mean, and we simply can't afford to get it mended, so I think we shan have to move soon. Every- thing's getting rather broken up, too, and dirty, if you know what I mean. Because, you see, there aren't any servants, only the butler and his wife, and they are always tight now. So demoralising. Mary Mouse has been a perfect angel, and sent us great hampers of caviare and things. . . . She's paying for Archie's party to-night, of course." "Do you know, I rather think I'm going to be sick again?" "Oh, Miles!" (Oh, Bright Young People!) Packed all together in a second-class carriage, the angels were late in recovering their good humour. "She's taken Prudence off in her car again," said Divine Discontent, who once, for one delirious fortnight, had been Mrs. Ape's favourite girL "Can't see what she sees in her. What's London like, Fortitude? I never been there but once." "Just exactly heaven. Shops and all." "What are the men like, Fortitude?" "Say, don't you never think of nothing but men, Chastity?" "I should say I do. I was only asking." "Well, they ain't much to look at, not after the shops. But they has their uses." 28 Vile Bodies "Say, did you hear that? You're a cute one, Fortitude. Did you hear what Fortitude said? She said 'they have their uses.' " "What, shops?" "No, silly, men." "Men. That's a good one, I should say." Presently the train arrived at Victoria, and all these passengers were scattered all over London. Adam left his bag at Shepheard's Hotel, and drove straight to Henrietta Street to see his publishers. It was nearly closing time, so that most of the staff had packed up and gone home, but by good fortune Mr. Sam Benfleet, the junior director with whom Adam always did his business, was still in his room correcting proofs for one of his women novelists. He was a competent young man, with a restrained elegance of appearance (the stenographer always trembled slightly when she brought him his cup of tea). "No, she can't print that," he kept saying, endorsing one after another of the printer's protests. "No, damn it, she can't print that. She'll have us all in prison." For it was one of his most exacting duties to "ginger up" the more reticent of the manuscripts submitted and "tone down" the more "outspoken" until he had reduced them all to the acceptable moral standard of his day. He greeted Adam with the utmost cordiality. "Well, well, Adam, how are you? This is nice. Sit down. Have a cigarette. What a day to arrive in London. Did you have a good crossing?" "Not too good." "I say, I am sorry. Nothing so beastly as a beastly crossing, is there? Why don't you come round to dinner at Wimp ole Stroot to-night? I've got some rather nice Americans coming. Where are you staying?" 29 Vile Bodies "At 'Shepheard's'-Lottie Crump's." "Well, that's always fun. I've been trying to get an LUtobiography ("It of Lottie for ten years. And that 'eminds me. You're bringing us your manuscript, aren't IOU? Old Rampole was asking about it only the other day. t's a week overdue, you know. I hope you'll like the )reliminary notices we've sent out. We've fixed the day of mblication for the econd week in mber, so as to ve it a fortnight's run before Johnnie Hoop's auto- )iography. That's going to be a seller. Sails a bit near he wind in places. We had to cut out some things you :now what old Rampole is. Johnnie didn't like it a bit. )ut I'm looking forward terribly to reading yours." "Well, Sam, rather an awful thing happened about hat. . ." "I say, I hope you're not going to say it's not finished. ['he date on the contract, you know. " "Oh, it's finished all right. Burnt." "Burnt?" "Burnt. " "What an awful thing. I hope you are insured." Adam explained the circumstances of the destruction .f his autobiography. There was a longish pause while :am Benfleet thought. "What worries me is how are we going to make that ound convincing to old Rampole." "I should think it sounded convincing enough." "You don't know old Rampole. It's sometimes very lifficult for me, Adam, working under him. Now if I lad my own way I'd say, 'Take your own time. Start ,gain. Don't worry . . .' But there's old Rampole. He's . devil for contracts, you know, and you did say, didn't 'ou . . . ? It's all very difficult. You know, I wish it tadn't happened." "So do I, oddly enough," said Adam.. 30 Vile Bodies "There's another difficulty. You've had an advance already, haven't you? Fifty pounds, wasn't it? Well, you know, that makes things very difficult. Old Rampole never likes big advances like that to young authors. You know I hate to say it, but I can't help feeling that the best thing would be for you to repay the advance-plus interest, of course, old Rampole would insist on that- and cancel the contract. Then if you ever thought of re- writing the book, well, of course, we should be delighted to consider it. I suppose that-well, I mean, it would be quite convenient, and all that, to repay the advance?" "Not only inconvenient, but impossible," said Adam in no particular manner. There was another pause. "Deuced awkward," said Sam Benfleet. "It's a shame the way the Customs House officers are allowed to take the Jaw into their own bands. Quite jgnorant men, too. Liberty of the subject, I mean, and all that. I tell you what we'll do. We'll start a correspondence about it in the New Statesman. . .---. It is all so deuced awkward. But I think I can see a way out. I suppose you coltld get the book rewritten in time for the Spring List? Well, we'll cancel the contract and forget all about the advance. No, no, my dear fellow, don't thank me. If only I was alone here I'd be doing that kind of thing all day. Now instead we'll have a new contract. It won't be quite so good as the last, I'm afraid. Old Rampole wouldn't stand for that. I'll tell you what, we'll give you our standard first-novel contract. I've got a printed fonn here. It won't take a minute to fill up. Just sign here." "May I just see the terms?" "Of course, my dear fellow. They look a bit hard at first, I know, but it's our usual fonn. We made a very special case for you, you know. It's very simple. No royalty on the fust two thousand, then a royalty of two 31 Vile Bodies and a half per cent., rising to five per cent. on the tentl1 thousand. We retain serial, cinema, dramatic, American, Colonial and translation rights, of course. And, of course, an option on your next twelve books on the same terms. It's a very straightforward arrangement really. Doesn't leave room for any of the disputes which embitter the relations of author and publisher. Most of our authors are working on a contract like that. . . . Splendid. NoVi don't you bother any more about that advance. I under- stand perfectly, a d I'll square old Rampole somehow, even if it comes out of my director's fees." "Square old Rampole," repeated Mr. Benfleet thought. fully as Adam went downstairs. It was fortunate, he reflected, that none of the authors ever came across the senior partner, that benign old gentleman, who once a week drove up to board meetings from the country, whose chief interest in the business was confined to the progres! of a little book of his own about bee-keeping, which the) had published twenty years ago and, though he did nol know it, allowed long ago to drop out of print. He ofte wondered in his uneasy moments what he would find to sa) when Rampole died. It was about now that Adam remembered that he WID engaged to be married. The name of his young lady WID Nina Blount. So he went into a tube station to a telephone, box, which smelt rather nasty, and rang her up. "HulIo." "HulIo." "May I speak to Miss Blount, please?" "I'll just see if she's in," said Miss Blount's voice. "Who'l speaking, please?" She was always rather snobbish aboul this fiction of having someone to answer the telephone "Mr. Fenwick-Symes." "Oh. " 32 Vile Bodies "Adam, you know. . . . How are you, Nina?" "Well, I've got rather a pain just at present." "Poor Nina. ShaH I come round and see you?" "No, don't do that, darling, because I'm just going to have a bath. Why don't we dine together?" "Well, I asked Agatha Runcible to dinner." "Why?" "She'd just had all her clothes taken off by some sailors." "Yes, I know, it's all in the evening paper to-night. . . . Well, I'll tell you what. Let's meet at Archie Schwert's party. Are you going?" "I rather said I would." "That's all right, then. Don't dress up. No one will, except Archie." "Oh, I say. Nina, there's one thing-I don't think I shall be able to marry you after all.'' "Oh, Adam, you are a bore. Why not?" "They burnt my book." "Beasts. Who did?" "I'll ten you about it to-night." "Yes, do. Good-bye, darling." "Good-bye, my sweet." He hung up the receiver and left the telephone-box. People had crowded into the Underground station for shelter from the rain, and were shaking their umbrellas and reading their evening papers. Adam could see the headlines over their shoulders. PEER'S DAUGHTER'S DOVER ORDEAL SERIOUS ALLEGA nONS BY SOCIETY BEAUTY HON. A. RUNCIBLE SAYS "TOO SHAMING" "Poor pretty," said an indignant old woman at his 33 Vile Bodies elbow. "Disgraceful, I calls it. And such a good sweet face. I see her picture in the papers only yesterday. Nasty prying minds. That's what they got. And her poor father and all. Look, Jane, there's a piece about him, too. 'Interviewed at the Carlton Club this evening, Lord Chasm,' that's her dad, 'refused to make a d finite state- ment. "The matter shall not be allowed to rest here," he said.' And quite right, too, I says. You kuow I feels about that girl just as though it was me own daughter. Seeing her picture so often and our Sarah h.aving done the back stairs, Tuesdays, at them flats whete her aunt used to live-the one as had that 'orrible divorce last year." Adam bought a paper. He had just ten shillings left in the world. It was too wet to walk, so he took a very crowded tube train to Dover Street and hurried across in the rain to Shepheard's Hotel (which, for the purposes of tl1.e narrative, maJ' be 8ssumOO to stlllla al: the comer of Hay Hill). CHAPTER III L OTIIE CRUMP, proprietr ss o.f Shephe trd's Hotel, Dover Street, attended Invanably by two Cairn terriers, is a happy reminder to us that the sPlendours of the Edwardian era were not entirely confinw to Lady Anchorage or Mrs. Blackwater. She is a fine figure of a woman, singularly unscathed by any sort of misfortune and superbly oblivious of those changes in the social order which agitate the more observant grandes d£lmes of her period. When the war broke out she took down the signed photograph of the Kaiser and, with some solemnity, hung it in the men-servants' lavatory; it was her one combative action; since then she has had her worries--income-tax 34 Vile Bodies forms and drink restrictions and young men whose fathers she used to know, who give her bad cheques, but these have been soon forgotten; one can go to Shepheard's parched with modernity any day, if Lottie likes one's face, and still draw up, cool and uncontaminated, great, healing draughts from the well of Edwardian certainty. Shepheard's has a plain, neatly pointed brick front and large, plain doorway. Inside it is like a country house. Lottie is a great one for sales, and likes, whenever one of the great houses of her day is being sold up, to take away something for old times' sake. There is a good deal too much furniture at Shepheard's, some of it rare, some of it hideous beyond description; there is plenty of red plush and red morocco and innumerable wedding presents of the 'eighties; in particular many of those massive, mechanical devices covered with crests and monograms, and associated in some way with cigars. It is the sort of house in which one expects to find croquet mallets and polo sticks in the bathroom, and children's toys at the bottom of one's chest of drawers, and an estate map and an archery target-exuding straw-and a bicycle and one of those walking-sticks which turn into saws, somewhere in passages, between baize doors, smelling of damp. (As a matter of fact, all you are likely to find in your room at Lottie's is an empty champagne bottle or two and a crumpled camisole.) The servants, like the furniture, are old and have seen aristocratic service. Doge, the head waiter, who is hard of hearing, partially blind, and tortured with gout, was once. a Rothschild's butler. He had, in fact, on more than one occasion in Father Rothschild's youth, dandled him on his knee, when he came with his father (at one time the fifteenth richest man in the world) to visit his still richer cousins, but it would be unlike him to pretend that he ever really liked the embryo Jesuit who was "too clever 35 Vile Bodies by half," given to asking extraordinary questions, and endowed with a penetrating acumen in the detection of falsehood and exaggeration. Besides Doge, there are innumerable old housemaids always trotting about with cans of hot water and clean towels. There is also a young Italian who does most of the work and gets horribly insulted by Lottie, who once caught him powdering his nose, and will not let him forget it. Indeed, it is one of the few facts in Lottie's recent experience that seems always accessible. Lottie's parlour, in which most of the life of Shepheard's centres, contains a comprehensive collection of signed photographs. Most of the male members of the royal families of Europe are represented (except the ex-Emperor of Germany, who has not been reinstated, although there was a distinct return of sentiment towards him on the occasion of his second marriage)., There are photographs of young men on horses riding in steeple-chases, of elderly men leading in the winners of "classic" races, of horses alone and of young men alone, dressed in tight, white collars or in the uniform of the Brigade of Guards. There are caricatures by "Spy," and photographs cut from illustrated papers, many of them with brief obituary notices, "killed in action." There are photographs of yachts in full sail and of elderly men in yachting caps; there are some funny pictures of the earliest kind of motor car. There are very few writers or painters and no actors, for Lottie is true to the sound old snobbery of pound sterling and strawberry leaves. Lottie was standing in the hall abusing the Italian waiter when Adam arrived. "Well," she said, "you are a stranger. Come along in. We were just thinking about having a little drink. You'll find a lot of your friends here." She led Adam into the parlour, where they found 30: Vile Bodies several men, none of whom Adam had ever seen before. "You all know Lord Thingummy, don't you?" said Lottie. "Mr. Symes," said Adam. "Yes, dear, that's what I said. Bless you, I knew you before you were born. How's your father? Not dead, is he?" "Yes, I'm afraid he is." "Well, I never. I could tell you some things about him. Now let me introduce you-that's Mr. What's-his-name, you remember him, don't you? And over there in the comer, that's the Major, and there's Mr. What-d'you-call- him, and that's an American, and there's the King of Ruritania." "Alas, no longer," said a sad, bearded man. "Poor chap," said Lottie Crump, who always had a weak spot for royalty, even when deposed. "It's a shame. They gave him the boot after the war. Hasn't got a penny. Not that he ever did have much. His wife's locked up in a looney house, too." "Poor Maria Christina. It is true how Mrs. Crump says. Her brains, they are quite gone out. AIl the time she thinks everyone is a bomb." "It's perfectly true, poor old girl," said Lottie with relish. "I drove the King down Saturday to see her. . . (I won't have him travelling third class). It fair brought tears to my eyes. Kept skipping about all the time, she did, dodging. Thought they were throwing things at her." "It is one strange thing, too," said the King. "AU my family they have bombs thrown at them, but the Queen, never. My poor Uncle Joseph he blow all to bits one night at the' opera, and my sister she find three bombs in her bed. But my wife, never. But one day her maid is brushing her hair before dinner, and she said, 'Madam,' she said, 'the cook has had lesson from the cook at the :'n Vile Bodies French Legation'-the food at my home was not what you call chic. One day it was mutton hot, then mutton cold, then the same mutton hot again, but less nicer, not chic, you understand me-'he has had lesson from the French cook,' the maid say, 'and he has made one big bomb as a surprise for your dinner-party to-night for the Swedish Minister.' Then the poor Queen say 'Oh,' like so, and since then always her poor brains has was all no- how." The ex-King of Ruritania sighed heavily and lit a cigar. "Well," said Lottie, brushing aside a tear, "what about a little drink? Here, you over there, your Honour Judge What's-your-name, how about a drink for the gentlemen?" The American, who, like all the listeners, had been pro- foundly moved by the ex-King's recitation, roused himself to bow and say, "I shall esteem it a great honour if His Majesty and yourself, Mrs. Crump, and these other good gentlemen . . ." "That's the way," said Lottie. "Hi, there, where's my Fairy Prince? Powdering hisself again, I suppose. Come here, Nancy, and put away the beauty cream." In came the waiter. "Bottle of wine," said Lottie, "with Judge Thingummy there." (Unless specified in detail, all drinks are cham- pagne in Lottie's parlour. There is also a mysterious game played with dice which always ends with someone giving a bottle of wine to every one in the room, but Lottie has an equitable soul and she generally sees to it, in making up the bills, that the richest people pay for everything. ) Mter the third or fourth bottle of wine Lottie said, "Who d'you think we've got dining upstairs to-night? Prime Minister." "Me, I have never liked Prime Ministers. They talk and talk and then they talk more. 'Sir, you must sign that.' 38 Vile Bodies 'Sir, you must go here and there.' 'Sir, you must do up that button before you give audience to the black pleni- potentiary from Liberia.' Pah! After the war my people give me the bird, yes, but they throw my Prime Minister out of the window, bump right bang on the floor. Ha, ha." "He ain't alone either," said Lottie with a terrific wink. "What, Sir James Brown?" said the Major, shocked in spite of himself, "I don't believe it.'" "No, name of Outrage." "He's not Prime Minister." "Yes he is. I saw it in the paper." "No, he's not. He went out of office last week." "Well I never. How they keep changing. I've no patience with it. Doge. Doge. What's the Prime Minister's name?" "Beg pardon, mum." "What's the name of the Prime Minister?" "Not to-night, I don't think, mum, not as I've been infonned anyway." "What's the name of the Prime Minister, you stupid old man?" "Oh, I beg your pardon, mum. I didn't quite hear you. Sir James Brown, mum, Bart. A very nice gentleman, so I've been told. Conservative, I've heard said. Gloucester- shire they come from, I think." "There, what did I say?" said Lottie triumphantly. "It is one very extraordinary thing, your British Con- stitution," said the ex-King of Ruritania. "AU the time when I was young they taught me nothing but British Constitution. My tutor had been a master at your Eton school. And now when I come to England always there is a different Prime Minister and no one knows which is which." "Oh, sir," said the Major, "that's because of the Liberal Party." 39 Vile Bodies "Liberals? Yes. We, too, had Liberals. I tell you some- thing now, I had a gold fountain-pen. My godfather, the good Archduke of Austria, give me one gold fountain-pen with eagles on him. I loved my gold fountain-pen." Tears stood in the King's eyes. Champagne was a rare luxury to him now. "I loved very well my pen with the little eagles. And one day there was a Liberal Minister. A Count Tampen, one man, Mrs. Crump, of exceedingly evilness. He come to talk to me and he stood at my little escritoire and he thump and talk too much about some- things I not understand, and when he go-where was my gold fountain-pen with eagles-gone too." "Poor old King," said Lottie. "I tell you what. You have another drink." ". . . Esteem it a great honour," said the American, "if your Majesty and these gentlemen and Mrs. Crump " "Doge, tell my little love-bird to come hopping in . . . you there, Judge wants another bottle of wine." ". . . Should honour it a great esteem. . . esteem it a great honour if Mrs. Majesty and these gentlemen and His Crump . . ." "That's all right, Judge. Another bottle coming." ". . . Should esteem it a great Crump ifhis honour and these Majesties and Mrs. Gentlemen. . ." "Yes, yes, that's all right, Judge. Don't let him. fall down, boys. Bless me, how these Americans do drink." ". . . I should Crump it a great Majesty if Mrs. Esteem. . ." And his Honour Judge Skimp of the Federal High Court began to laugh rather a lot. (It must be remembered in all these people's favour that none of them had yet dined.) Now there was a very bland, natty, moustachioed young man sitting there who had been drinking away quietly in the comer without talking to anyone except for an 40 Vile Bodies occasional "Cheerioh" to Judge Skimp. Suddenly he got up and said : "Bet-you-can't-do-this. " He put three halfpennies on the table, moved them about very deliberately for a bit, and then looked up with an expression of pride. "Only touched each halfpenny five times, and changed their positions twice," he said. "Do- it-again if you like." "Well, isn't he a clever boy?" said Lottie. "Wherever did they teach you that?" "Chap-in-a-train showed me," he said. "It didn't look very hard," said Adam. "Just-you-try. Bet-you-anything-you-like you can't do it. " "How much will you bet?" Lottie loved thi9 kind of thing. "Anything-you-like. Five hundred pounds." «00 on," sain Lo't'tie. «Y ou no it. He's gdt lots oY money. " "All right," said Adam. He took the halfpennies and moved them about just as the young man had done. When he finished he said, "How's that?" "Well I'm jiggered," said the young man. ":N"ever saw anyone do it like that before. I've won a lot of money this week with that trick. Here you are." And he took out a note-case and gave Adam a five-hundred-pound note. Then he sat down in his corner again. "Well," said Lottie with approval, "that's sporting. Give the boys a drink for that." So they all had another drink. Presently the young man stood up again. "Toss you double-or-quits," he said. "BeSt-out-of- three. " "All right," said Adam. 41 Vile Bodies They tossed twice and Adam won both times. "Well I'm jiggered," said the young man, handing over another note. "You are a lucky chap." "He's got pots of money," said Lottie. "A thousand pounds is nothing to him." She liked to feel like that about all her guests. Actually in this young man's case she was wrong. He happened to have an that money in his pocket because he had just sold out his few remaining securities to buy a new motor car. So next day he bought a second-hand motor bicycle instead. Adam felt a little dizzy, so he had another drink. "D'you mind if I telephone?" he said. He rang up Nina Blount. "Is that Nina?" "Adam, dear, you're tight already." "How d'you know?" "I can hear it. What is it? I'mjust going out to dinner." "I just rang up to say that it's all right about our getting married. I've got a thousand pounds." "Oh, good. How?" "I'll tell you when we meet. Where are you dining?" "Ritz. Archie. Darling, I am glad about our getting married. " "So am I. But don't let's get intense about it." "I wasn't, and anyway you're tight." He went back to the parlour. Miss Runcible had arrived and was standing in the haIl very much dressed up. "Who's that tart?" asked Lottie. "That's not a tart, Lottie, that's Agatha Runcible." "Looks like a tart. How do you do, my dear, come in. We're just thinking of having a little drink. You know everyone here, of course, don't you? That's the King with the beard. . . . No, dearie, the King of Ruritania. You didn't mind my taking you for a tart, did you, dear? You 42 Vile Bodies look so like one, got up like that. Of course, I can see you aren't now." "My dear," said Miss Runcible, "if you'd seen me this afternoon . . ." and she began to tell Lottie Crump about the Customs House. "What would you do if you suddenly got a thousand pounds?" Mam asked. "A thousand pound," said the King, his eyes growing dreamy at this absurd vision. "Well, first I should buy a house and a motor car and a yacht and a new pair of gloves, and then I would start one little newspaper in my country to say that I must come back and be the King, and then I don't know what I do, but I have such fun and grandness again." "But you can't do all that with a thousand pounds, you know, sir." "No. . . can't I not? . . . not with thousand pound. . . . Oh, well, then I think I buy a gold pen with eagles on him like the Liberals stole." "I know what I'd do," said the Major. "I'd put it on a horse. " "What horse?" "I can tell you a likely outsider for the November Handicap. Horse named Indian Runner. It's at twenty to one at present, and the odds are likely to lengthen. Now if you were to put a thousand on him to win and he won, why you'd be rich, wouldn't you?" "Yes, so I would. How marvellous. D'you know, I think I'll do that. It's a very good idea. How can I do it?" "Just you give me the thousand and I'll arrange it." "I say, that's awfully nice of you." "Not at all." "No, really, I think that's frightfully nice of you. Look, here's the money. Have a drink, won't you?" 43 Vile Bodies "No, you have one with me." "I said it first." "Let's both have one, then." "Wait a minute though, I must go and telephone about this. " He rang up the Ritz and got on to Nina. "Darling, you do telephone a lot, don't you?" "Nina, I've something very important to say." "Yes, darling." "Nina, have you heard of a horse called Indian Runner?" "Yes, 1 think so. Why?" "What sort of a horse is it?" "My dear, quite the worst sort of horse. Mary Mouse's mother owns it." " Not a good horse?" "No." "Not likely to win the November Handicap, 1 mean." "Quite sure not to. 1 don't suppose it'll run even. Why?" "I say, Nina, d'you know I don't think we shall be able to get married after all." "Why not, my sweet?" "You see, I've put my thousand pounds on Indian Runner." "That was silly. Can't you get it back?" "I gave it to a Major." "What sort of a Major?" "Rather a drunk one. 1 don't know his name!' "Well, I should try and catch him. 1 must go back and eat now. Good-bye." But when he got back to Lottie's parlour the Major was gone. "What Major?" said Lottie, when he asked about him. "I never saw a Major." "The one you introduced me to in the corner." 44 Vile Bodies "How d'you know he's a Major?"" "You said he was." "My dear boy, I've never seen him before. Now I come to think of it, he did look like a Major, didn't he? But this sweet little girlie here is telling me a story. Go on, my dear. I can hardly bear to hear it, it's so wicked." While Miss Runcible fimshed her story (which began to sound each time she told it more and more like the most lubricous kind of anti-Turkish propaganda) the ex-King of Ruritania told Adam about a Major he had known, who had come from Prussia to reorganize the Ruritanian Anny. He had disappeared south, taking with him all the mess plate of the Royal Guard, and the Lord Chamberlain's wife, and a valuable pair of candlesticks from the Chapel Royal. , By the time Miss Runcible had finished, Lottie was in a high state of indignation. "The very idea of it," she said. "The dirty hounds. And I used to know your poor father, too, before you were born or thought of. I'll talk to the Prime Minister about this," she said, taking up the telephone. "Give me Outrage," she said to the exchange boy. "He's up in number twelve with a Japanese." "Outrage isn't Prime Minister, Lottie." "Of course he is. Didn't Doge say so. . . . Hullo, is that Outrage? This is Lottie. A fine chap you are, I don't think. Tearing the clothes off the back of a poor innocent girl. " Lottie prattled on. Mr. Outrage had finished dinner, and, as matter of fact, the phrasing of this accusation was not wholly in- appropriate to his mood. It was some minutes before he began to realize that all this talk was only about Miss 45 Vile Bodies Runcible. By that time Lottie's flow of invective had come to an end, but she finished finely. "Outrage your name, and Outrage your nature," she said, banging down the receiver. "And that's what I think of him. Now how about a little drink?" But her party was breaking up. The Major was gone. Judge Skimp was sleeping, his fine white hair in an ash. tray. Adam and Miss Runcible were talking about where they would dine. Soon only the King remained. He gave her his arm with a grace he had acquired many years ago; far away in his sunny little palace, under a great chandelier which scattered with stars of light like stones from a broken necklace, a crimson carpet woven with a pattern of crowned ciphers. So Lottie and the King went in to dinner together. Upstairs in No. 12, which is a suite of notable grandeur, Mr. Outrage was sliding back down the path of self- confidence he had so laboriously climbed. He really would have brought matters to a crisis if it had not been for that telephone, he told himself, but now the Baroness was saying she was sure he was busy, must be wanting her to go: would he order her car. It was so difficult. For a European the implications of an invitation to dinner tete-a-tete in a private room at Shepheard's were definitely clear. Her acceptance on the first night of his return to England had thrown him into a flutter of expectation. But aU through dinner she had been so self-possessed, so supremely social. Yet, surely, just before the telephone rang, surely then, when they left the table and moved to the fire, there had been something in the atmosphere. But you never know with Orientals. He clutched his knees and said in a voice which sounded very extraordinary to him, must she go, it was lovely after a fortnight, and then, desperately, he had thought of her 46 Vile Bodies in Paris such a lot. (Oh, for words, words! That massed treasury of speech that was his to squander at will, to send bowling and spinning in golden pieces over the floor of the House of Commons; that glorious largesse of vocables he cast far and wide, in ringing handfuls about his constituency!) The little Baroness Y oshiwara, her golden hands clasped in the lap of her golden Paquin frock, sat where she had been sent, more puzzled than Mr. Outrage, waiting for orders. What did the clever Englishman want? If he was 'busy with his telephone, why did he not send her away; tell her another time to come: if he wanted to be loved, why did he not tell her to come over to him? Why did he not pick her out of her red plush chair and sit her on his knee? Was she, perhaps, looking ugly to-night? She had thought not. It was so hard to know what these Occidentals wanted. Then the telephone rang again. "Will you hold on a minute? Father Rothschild wants to speak to you," said a voice. " . . . Is that you, Out- rage? Will you be good enough to come round and see me as soon as you can? There are several things which I must discuss with you." "Really, Rothschild . . . I don't see why I should. I have a guest." "Tbe baroness had better return immediately. The waiter who brought you your coffee has a brother at the Japanese Embassy." "Good God, has he? But why don't you go and worry Brown? He's P.M., you know, not me." "You will be in office to-morrow. . . . As soon as possible, please, at my usual address." "Oh, all right." "Why, of course." 47 Vile Bodies CHAPTER IV AT Archie Schwert's party the fifteenth Marquess of Vanburgh, Earl Vanburgh de Brendon, Baron Brendon, Lord of the Five Isles and Hereditary Grand Falconer to the Kingdom of Conn aught, said to the eighth Earl of Balcaim, Viscount Erdinge, Baron Cairn of Balcaim, Red Knight of Lancaster, Count of the Holy Roman Empire and Chenonceaux Herald to the Duchy of Aquitaine, "Hullo," he said. "Isn't this a repulsive party? What are you going to say about it?" for they were both of them, as it happened, gossip writers for the daily papers. "I've just telephoned my story through," said Lord Balcairn. "And now I'm going, thank God." "I can't think of what to say," said Lord Vanburgh. "My editress said yesterday she was tired of seeing the same names over and over again-and here they are again, all of them. There's Nina Blount's engagement being broken off, but she's not got any publicity value to speak of. Agatha Runcible's usually worth a couple of para- graphs, but they're featuring her as a front-page news story to-morrow over this Customs House business." "I made rather a good thing over Edward Throbbing being in a log shanty in Canada which he built himself with the help of one Red Indian. I thought that was fairly good because, you see, I could contrast that with Miles being dressed as a Red Indian to-night, don't you think so, or don't you?" "I say, that's rather good, may I use it?" "Well, you can have the shanty, but the Red Indian's mine. " "Where is he actually?" "Heaven knows. Government House at Ottawa, I think." "Who's that awful-looking woman? I'm sure she's 48 Vile Bodies famous in some way. It's not Mrs. Melrose Ape, is it? I heard she was coming." "Who?" "That one. Making up to Nina." "Good lora, no. She's no one. Mrs. Panrast she's called now." "She seems to know you." "Yes, I've known her an my life. As a matter of fact, she's my mother." "My dear, how too shaming. D'youmind if I put that in?" "I'd sooner you didn't. The family can't bear her. She's been divorced twice since then, you know." "My dear, of course not, I quite understand." Five minutes later he was busy at the telephone, dic- tating his story. ". . . Orchid stop, new paragraph. One. of the most striking women in the room was Mrs. Panrast -P-A-N-R-A-S-T, no, T for telephone, you know- formerly Countess of Balcairn. She dresses with that severely ma culine chic, italics, which American women know so well how to asswne, stop. Her son, comma, the present Earl, comma, was with her, stop. Lord Balcaim is one of the few young men about town. . . . ". . . the Hon. Miles Malpractice was dressed as a Red Indian. He is at present living in the house of his brother, Lord Throbbing, at which yesterday's party was held. His choice of costume was particularly-what shall I say? hullo, yes-was particularly piquant, italics, since the latest reports of Lord Throbbing say that he is living in a log shack in Canada which he built with. his own hands, aided by one Red Indian servant, stop. . . ." ¥ ou see, that was the kind of party Archie Schwert's party was. Miss Mouse (in a very enterprising frock by Cheruit) 49 Vile Bodies sat on a chair with her eyes popping out of her head. She never could get used to so much excitement, never. To- night she had brought a little friend with her-a Miss Brown-because it was so much more fU:Q if one had some one to talk to. It was too thrilling to see all that dull money her father had amassed, metam.orphozed in . this way into so much glitter and noise and so many bored young faces. Archie Schwert, as he passed, champagne bottle in hand, paused to say, "How are you, Mary darling? Quite all right?" . "That's Archie Schwert," said Miss Mouse to Miss Brown. "Isn't he too clever?" "Is he?" said Miss Brown, who would have liked a drink, but didn't know how quite to set about it. "You are lucky to know such amusing people, Mary darling. I never see anyone." "Wasn't the invitation clever? Johnnie Hoop wrote it." "Well, yes, I suppose it was. But you know, was it dreadful of me, I hadn't heard of any of the n,ames."* "My dear, of course you have," said Miss Mouse, feeling somewhere in her depths-those unplumbed places in Miss Mouse's soul-a tiny, most unaccustomed flicker of superiority; for she had gone through that invitation word by word in papa's library some days ago and knew all about it. She alm.ost wished in this new mood of exaltation that she had come to the party in fancy dress. It was called a Savage party, that is to say that Johnnie Hoop had written · Perhaps it should be explained-there were at this time three sorts of formal invitation card; there was the nice sensible cOPY-book hand sort with a name and At Home and a date and time and address; then there was the sort that came from Chelsea, Noel and Audrey Qre having a little whoopee on Saturday evening: do please come and bring a bottle too, if you can; and finally there was the sort that Johnnie Hoop us(:d to adapt from Blast and Mannetti's Futurist Manifesto. These had two columns of close prinr, in one was a list of all the things Johnnie hated, and in the other all the things he thought he liked. Most of the parties which Miss Mouse fipanced had mvitations written by Johnnie Hoop. 50 Vile Bodies on the invitation that they were to come dressed as savages. Numbers of them had done so; Johnnie himselfin a mask and black gloves represented the Maharanee of Pukka pore, somewhat to the annoyance of the Maharajah, who happened to drop in. The real aristocracy, the younger members of those two or three great brewing families which rule London, had done nothing about it. They had come on from a dance and stood in a little group by them- selves, aloof, amused but not amusing. Pit-a-pat went the heart of Miss Mouse. How she longed to tear down her daz- zling frock to her hips and dance like a Bacchante before them all. One day she would surprise them all, thought Miss Mouse. There was a famous actor making jokes (but it was not so much what he said as the way he said it that made the people laugh who did laugh). "I've come to the party as a wild widower," he said. They were that kind of joke- but, of course, he made a droIl face when he said it. Miss Runcible had changed into Hawaiian costume and was the life and soul of the evening. She had heard someone say something about an Indepen- dent Labour Party, and was furious that she had not been asked. There were two men with a lot of explosive powder taking photographs in another room. Their flashes and bangs had rather a disquieting effect on the party, causing a feeling of tension, because everyone looked negligent and said what a bore the papers were, and how too like Archie to let the photographers come, but most of them, as a matter of fact, wanted dreadfully to be photographed and the others were frozen with unaffected terror that they might be taken unawares and then their mainas would know where they had been when they said they were 51 Vile Bodies at the Bicesters' dance, and then there would be a row again, which was so exhausting, if nothing else. There were Adam and Nina getting rather sentimental. "D'you know," she said, pulling out a lwnp, "I'd quite made up my mind that your hair was dark?" Archie Schwert, pausing with a bottle of champagne, said, "Don't be so sadistic, Nina." "Go away, hog's rwnp," said Adam, in Cockney, adding, in softer tones, "Are you disappointed?" "Well, no, but it's rather disconcerting getting engaged to some one with dark hair and finding it's fair." "Anyway, we aren't engaged any more, are we--or are we?" "I'm not sure that we're not. How much money have you, Adam?" "Literally, none, my dear. Poor Agatha had to pay for dinner as it was, and God knows what I'm going to do about Lottie Crump's bill." "Of course, you know-Adam, don't fall asleep-there's always papa. I believe he's really much richer than he looks. He !night give us some money until your books start paying." "You know, if I wrote a book a month I should be free of that contract in a year. . . . I hadn't thought of that before. I don't at all see why I shouldn't do that, do you? . . . or do you?" "Of course not, darling. I'll tell you what. We'll go down and see papa to morrow, shall we?" "Yes, that would be divine, darling." "Adam, don't go to sleep." "Sorry, darling, what I meant was that that would be divine." And he went to sleep for a little, with his head in her lap. "Pretty as a picture," said Archie, in Cockney, passing with a bottle of champagne in his hand. 52 Vile Bodies "Wake up, Adam," said Nina, pulling out more hair. "It's time to go." "That would be divine. . . . I say, have I been asleep?" "Yes, for hours and hours. You looked rather sweet." "And you sat there. . . . I say, Nina, you are getting sentimental. . . . Where are we going?" There were about a dozen people left at the party; that hard kernel of gaiety that never breaks. It was about three o'clock. "Let's go to Lottie Crump's and have a drink," said Adam. So they all got into two taxicabs and drove across Berkeley Square to Dover Street. But at Shepheard's the night porter said that Mrs. Crump had just gone to bed. He thought that Judge Skimp was still up with some friends; would they like to join them? They went up to Judge Skimp's suite, but there had been a disaster there with a chandelier that one of his young ladies had tried to swing on. They were bathing her forehead with cham- pagne; two of them were asleep. So Adam's party went out again into the rain. "Of course, there's always the Ritz," said Archie. "I believe the night porter can usually get one a drink." But he said it in the sort of voice that made all the others say, no, the Ritz was too, too boring at that time of night. They went to Agatha Runcible's house, which was quite near, but she found that she'd lost her latchkey, so that was no good. Soon some one would say the fatal words, "Well, I think it's time for me to go to bed. Can I give anyone a lift to Knightsbridge?" and the party would be over. But instead a little breathless voice said, "Why don't you come to my house?'. It was Miss Brown. So they all got into taxicabs again and drove rather a S31: Vile Bodies long way to Miss Brown's house. She turned on the lights in a sombre dining-room and gave them glasses of whisky and soda. (She turned out to be rather a good hostess, though over-zealous.) Then Miles said he wanted some- thing to eat, so they all went downstairs into a huge kitchen lined with every shape of pot and pa.n and found some eggs and some bacon and Miss Brown cooked them. Then they had some more whisky upstairs and Adam fell asleep again. Presently Vanburgh said, "D'you mind if I use the telephone? I must just send the rest of my story to the paper." Miss Brown took him to a study that looked almost like an office, and he dictated the rest ()fhis column, and then he came back and had some more whisky. It was a lovely evening for Miss Brown. Flushed with successful hospitality, she trotted from guest to guest, offering here a box of matches, there a cigar, there a fruit from the enormous gilt dishes on the sideboard. To think that all these brilliant people, whom she b.ad heard so much about, with what envy, from Miss Mouse, should be here in papa's dining-room, calling her "my dear" and "darling." And when at last they said they really had to go, Miss Runcible said, "Well, I can't go, because I've lost my latchkey. D'you mind awfully if I sleep here?" Miss Brown, her heart in her mouth, but in the most natural way possible, said, "Of course not, Agatha darling, that would be divine." And then Miss Runcible said, "How too divine of you, darling. " Rapture! At half-past nine the next morning the Brown family came down to breakfast in the dining-room. There were four quiet girls (of whom the Miss Brown who had given the party was the youngest), their brother worked S. Vile Bodies in a motor shop and had had to get off early. They were seated at the table when their mama came down. "Now, children," she said, "do try to remember to talk to your father at breakfast. He was quite hurt yesterday. He feels out of things. It's so easy to bring him into the conversation if you take a little trouble, and he does so enjoy hearing about everything." "Yes, Mama," they said. "We do try, you know." "And what was the Bicesters' dance like, Jane?" she said, pouring out some coffee. "Did you have a good time?" "It was just too divine," said the youngest Miss Brown. "It was what, Jane?" "I mean it was lovely, Mama." "So I should think. You girls are very lucky nowadays. There were not nearly so many dances when I was your age. Perhaps two a week in the season, you know, but none before Christmas ever." "Mama." "Yes, Jane." "Mama. I asked a girl to stay the night." "Yes, dear. When? We're rather full up, you know." "Last night, Mama." "What an extraordinary thing to do. Did she accept?" "Yes, she's here now." "Well. . . . Ambrose, will you tell Mrs. Sparrow to put on another egg?" "I'm very sorry, my lady, Mrs. Sparrow can't under- stand it, but there are no eggs this morning. She thinks there must have been burglars." "Nonsense, Ambrose, who ever heard of burglars coming into a house to steal eggs?" "Tbe shells were all over the floor, my lady." "I see. That's all, thank you, Ambrose. Well, Jane, has your guest eaten all our eggs too?" 55 Vile Bodies "Wen, I'm afraid she has. . . at least. . . I mean." At this moment Agatha Runcible came down to break. fast. She was not looking her best really in the morning light. "Good morning, all," she said in Cockney. "I've found the right room at last. D'you know, I popped into a study or something. There was a sweet old boy sItting at a desk. He did look surprised to see me. Was it your papa?" "This is Mama," said Jane. "How are you?" said Miss Runcible. "I say, I think it's quite too sweet of you to let me come down to break- fast like this." (It must be remembered that she was stIll in Hawaiian costume.) "Are you sure you're not furious with me? All this is really much more embarrassing for me, isn't it, don't you think . . . or don't you?" "Do you take tea or coffee?" at last Jane's mother managed to say. "Jane, dear, give your friend some break- fast." For in the course of a long public life she had formed the opinion that a judicious offer of food eased most social situations. Then Jane's father came in. "Martha, the most extraordinary thing! . . . I think I must be losing my reason. I was in my study just now going over that speech for this afternoon, when suddenly the door opened and in came a sort of dancing Hottentot woman half-naked. It just said, 'Oh, how shy-making,' and then disappeared, and . . . oh . . ." For he had suddenly caught sight of Miss Runcible ". . . oh . how do you do? . . . How. . ." "I don't think you have met my husband before." "Only for a second," said Miss Runcible. "I hope you slept well," said Jane's father desperately. "Martha never told me we had a guest. Forgive me if I appeared inhospitable . . . I-er . . . Oh, why doesn't somebody else say somethiDg." Vile Bodies Miss Runcible, too, was feeling the strain. She picked up the morning paper. "Here's something terribly funny," she said, by way of making conversation. "Shall I read it to you?" "'Midnight Orgies at No. 10.' My dear, isn't that divine? Listen, 'What must be the most extraordinary party of the little season took place in the small hours of this morning at No. 10, Downing Street. At about 4 a.m. the policemen who are always posted outside the Prime Minister's residence were surprised to witness' -Isn't this too amusing-'the arrival of a fleet of taxis, from which emerged a gay throng in exotic fancy dress' -How I should have loved to have seen it. Can't you imagine what they were like?-'the hostess of what was described by one of the guests as the brightest party the Bright Young People have yet given, was no other than Miss Jane Brown, the youngest of the Prime Minister'sfour lovely daughters. The Honour- able Agatha. ..' Why, what an extraordinary thing. . . . Oh, my God!" Suddenly light came flooding in on Miss Runcible's mind as once when, in her debutante days, she had gone behind the scenes at a charity matinee, and returning had stepped through the wrong door and found herself in a blaze of flood-lights on the stage in the middle of the last act of "Othello." "Oh, my God!" she said, looking round the Brown breakfast table. "Isn't that just too bad of Vanburgh. He's always doing that kind of thing. It really would serve him right if we complained and he lost his job, don't you think so, Sir James . . . or . . . don't you?" Miss Runcible paused and met the eyes of the Brown family once more. "Oh, dear," she said, "this really is all too bogus." Then she turned round and, trailing garlands of equatorial flowers, fled out of the room and out of the 57 Vile Bodies house to the huge delight and profit of the crowd of' reporters and Press photographers who were already massed round the historic front door. CHAPTER V A DAM woke up feeling terribly ill. He rang his bell once or twice, but nobody came. Later he woke up again and rang the bell. The Italian waiter appeared, undulating slightly in the doorway. Adam ordered break. fast. Lottie came in and sat on his bed. "Had a nice breakfast, dear?" she said. "Not yet," said Adam. "I've only just woken up." "That's right," said Lottie. "Nothing like a nice break. fast. There was a young lady for you on the 'phone, but I can't remember what it was she said at the minute, We've all been upside down this morning. Such a fuss. Had the police in, we have, ever since I don't know what time, drinking up my wine and asking questions and putting their noses where they're not wanted. All because Flossie must needs go and swing on the chandelier. She never had any sense, J Flossie. Well, she's learned her lesson now, poor girl. Whoever heard of such a thing- swinging on a chandelier. Poor Judge What's-his-name is in a terrible state about it. I said to him it's not so much the price of the chandelier, I said. What money can make, money can mend, I said, and that's the truth, isn't it, dearl But what I mind, I said, is having a death in the house and all the fuss. It doesn't do anyone any good having people killing theirselves in a house like Flossie did, Now what may you want, my Italian queen?" said Lottie as the waiter came in with a tray, the smell of kippers contending with nuit de Noel rather disagreeably. "Gentleman's breakfast," said the waiter. 58 Vile Bodies "And how many more breakfasts do you think he wants, I should like to know? He's had his breakfast hours ago while you were powdering your nose downstairs, haven't you, dear?" "No," said Adam, "as a matter of fact, no." "There, do you hear what the gentleman says? He doesn't want two breakfasts. Don't stand there wiggling your behind at me. Take it away quick or I'll catch you such a smack. . . . That's just the way-once you get the police in every one gets all upset. There's that boy brings you two breakfasts and I dare say there's some poor fellow along the passage somewhere who hasn't had any breakfast at all. You can't get anywhere without a nice breakfast. Half the young fellows as come here now don't have anything except a cachet Faivre and some orange juice. It's not right" said Lottie, "and I've spoken to that boy about using scent twenty times if I've spoken once." The waiter's head appeared, and with it another wave of nuit de Noel. "If you please, madam, the inspectors want to speak to you downstairs, madam." "All right, my little bird of paradise, I'll be there." Lottie trotted away and the waiter came sidling back bearing his tray of kippers and leering at Adam with a horrible intimacy. "Turn on my bath, will you, please," said Adam. "Alas, there is a gentleman asleep in the bath. Shall I wake him?" "No, it doesn't matter." "Will that be all, sir?" "Yes, thank you." The waiter stood about fingering the brass knobs at the end of the bed, smiling ingratiatingly. Then he pro- f duced from under his coat a gardenia, slightly browned 59 Vile Bodies at the edges. (He had found it in an evening coat he had just been brushing.) Would the signor perhaps like a buttonhole? . . , Madame Crump was so severe . . . it was nice sometimes to be able to have a talk with the gentlemen . . . "No," said Adam. "Go away." For he had a headache. The waiter sighed deeply, and walked with pettish steps to the door; sighed again and took the gardenia to the gentleman in the bathroom. Adam ate soIIle breakfast. No kipper, he reflected, is ever as good as it smells; how this too earthly contact with flesh and bone spoiled the first happy exhilaration; if only one could live, s Jehovah was said to have done, on the savour of burnt offerings. He lay back for a little in his bed thinking about the smells of food, of the greasy horror of fried fish and the deeply moving smell that came from it; of the intoxicating breath of bakeries and the dullness of buns. . . . He planned dinners of enchanting aromatic foods that should be carried under the nose, snuffed and thrown to the dogs. . . endless dinners, in which one could I alternate flavour with flavour from sunset to dawn without I satiety, while one breathed great draughts of the bouquet of old brandy. . . . Oh for the wings of a dove, thought Adam, wandering a little from the point as he fell asleep again (every one is liable to this ninetyish feeling in the early morning after a party). Presently the telephone by Adam's bed began ringing. "Hullo, yes." "Lady to speak to you. . . . Hullo, is that you, Adam?" "Is that Nina?" "How are you, my darling?" uOh, Nina. . . ." "My poor sweet, I feel like that, too. Listen, angel. ., Vile Bodies I You haven't forgotten that you're going to see my papa to-day, have you . . . or have you? I've just sent him a wire to say that you're going to lunch with him. b'you know where he lives?" "But you're coming too?" "Well, no. I don't think I will, if you don't mind. . . . I've got rather a pain." "My dear, If you knew what a pain I've got. . . ." " Yes, but that's different, darling. Anyway, there's no object in our both going." "But what am I to say?" "Darling, don't be tiresome. You know perfectI}' well. Just ask him for some money." "Will he like that?" "Yes, darling, of course he will. Why will you go on? I've got to get up now. Good-bye. Take care of yourself. . . . Ring me up when you get back and tell me what fT'Jfffl Sirid. BJ' the * y, hn-e J'au S\X1i the Va:p r tltis morning?-there's something so funny about last night. Too bad of Van. Good-bye." While Adam was dressing, he realised that he did not know where he was to go. He rang up again. "I y the way, Nina, where does your papa live?" "Didn't I tell you? It's a house caned Doubting, and it's all failing down really. You go to Aylesbury b}' train and then take a taxi. They're the most expensiv taxis in the world, too. . . . Have you got any money?" Adam looked on the dressing-table: "About seven shillings," he said. "My dear, that's not enough. You'll have to mak poor papa pay for the taxi." "Will he like that?" "Yes, of course, he's an angel." "I wish you'd come too, Nina." "Darling, I told you. I've got such a pain.'- 61 Vile Bodies Downstairs, as Lottie had said, everything was up sid( down. That is to say that there were policemen anc reporters teeming in every corner of the hotel, each witl a bottle of champagne and a glass. Lottie, Doge, Judg( Skimp, the Inspector, four plain-clothes men and th( body were in Judge's Skimp's suite. "What is not clear to me, sir," said the Inspector, "ii what prompted the young lady to swing on the chandelier. Not wishing to cause offence, sir, and begging yoU! pardon, was she . . . ?" "Yes," said Judge Skimp, "she was." "Exactly," said the Inspector. "A clear case of mis, adventure, eh, Mrs. Crump? There'll have to be aJi inquest, of course, but I think probably I shall be able te arrange things so that there is no mention of your nam in the case, sir. . . well, that's very kind of you, Mrs. Crump, perhaps just one more glass." "Lottie," said Adam, "can you lend me some money?' "Money, dear? Of course. Doge, have you got an) money?" "I was asleep at the time myself, mum, and was not even! made aware of the occurrence until I was called thi! morning. Being slightly deaf, the sound of the disaster. . ," "Judge What's-your-name, got any money?" "I should take it as a great privilege if I could be of any assistance. . ." "That's right, give some to young Thingummy here. That all you want, deary? Don't run away. We're just think. ing of having a little drink. . . . No, not that wine, dear, it'! what we keep for the police. I've just ordered a better bottle if my young butterfly would bring it along." Adam had a glass of champagne, hoping it would make him feel a little better. It made him feel much worse. e : Then he went to Marylebone. It was Armistice Day, and they were selling artificial poppies in the street;l 62 Vile Bodies As he reached the station it struck eleven and for two minutes all over the country every one was quiet and serious. Then he went to Aylesbury, reading on the way Balcairn's account of Archie Schwert's party. He was pleased to see himself described as "the brilliant young novelist," and wondered whether Nina's papa read gossip paragraphs, and supposed not. The two women opposite him in the carriage obviously did. "I no sooner opened the paper," said one, "than I was on the 'phone at once to all the ladies of the com- mittee, and we'd sent off a wire to our Member before one o'clock. We know how to make things hum at the Bois. I've got a copy of what we sent. Look. Members of the Committee of the Ladies' Conservative Association" fit Chesham Bois wish to express their extreme displeasure at reports in this morning's paper of midnight party at No. 10. They call upon Captain Crutwell-that's our Member; such a nice stamp of man-strenuously to withhold support to Prime Minister. It cost nearly four shillings, but, as I said at the time, it was not a moment to spoil the ship for a ha'p'orth of tar. Don't you agree, Mrs. lthewaite?" "I do, indeed, Mrs. Orraway-Smith. It is clearly a case in which a mandate from the constituencies is required. I'll talk to our chairwoman at Wendover." "Yes, do, Mrs. Ithewaite. It is in a case like this that the woman's vote can count." . "If it's a choice between my moral judgment and the nationalization of banking, I prefer nationalization, if you see what I mean." "Exactly what I think. Such a terrible example to the lower classes, apart from everything." "That's what I mean. There's our Agnes, now. How Ian I stop her having young men in the kitchen when 63' VUe Bodies she knows that Sir James Brown has parties like that at all hours of the night. . . ." They were both wearing hats like nothing on earth, which bobbed and nodded as they spoke. At Aylesbury Adam got into a Ford taxi and asked to be taken to a house called Doubting. "Doubting 'All?" "Well, I suppose so. Is it falling down?" "Could do with a lick of paint," said the driver, a spotty youth. "Name of Blount." "That's it." "Long way from here Doubting 'All is. Cost you fifteen bob." "All right." "If you're a commercial, I can tell you straight it ain't no use going to 'im. Young feller asked me the way there this morning. Driving a Morris. Wanted to sell him a vacuum cleaner. Old boy 'ad answered an advertisement asking for a demonstration. When he got there the old boy wouldn't even look at it. Can you beat that?" "No, I'm not trying to sell him anything-at least not exactly. " "Personal visit, perhaps." "Yes." " Ah. " Satisfied that his passenger was in earnest about the journey, the taxi-driver put on some coats-for it was raining-got out of his seat and cranked up the engine. Presently they started. They drove for a mile or two past bungalows and villas and timbered public houses to a village in which every house seemed to be a garage and filling station. Here they left the main road and Adam's discomfort became acute. At last they came to twin octagonal lodges and some 64 Vile Bodies heraldic gate-posts and large wrought-iron gates, behind which could be seen a broad sweep of ill-kept drive. "Doubting 'All," said the driver. He blew his horn once or twice, but no lodge-keeper's wife, aproned and apple-cheeked, appeared to bob them in. He got out and shook the gates reproachfully. "Chained-and-Iocked," he said. "Try another way." They drove on for another mile; on the side of the Hall the road was bordered by dripping trees and a dilapidated stone wall; presently they reached some cottages and a white gate. This they opened and turned into a rough track, separated from the park by low iron railings. There were sheep grazing on either side. One of them had strayed into the drive. It fled before them in a frenzied trot, stopping and looking round over its dirty tail and then plunging on again until its agitation brought it to the side of the path, here they overtook it and passed it. , The track led to some stables, then behind rows of hot- houses, among potting-sheds and heaps of drenched leaves, past nondescript outbuildings that had once been laundry and bakery and brewhouse and a huge kennel where once some one had kept a bear, until suddenly it turned by a clump of holly and elms and laurel bushes into an open space that had once been laid with gravel. A lofty Palladian facade stretched before them and in front of it an equestrian statue pointed a baton imperiously down the main drive. " 'Ere y'are," said the driver. Adam paid him and went up the steps to the front door. He rang the bell and waited. Nothing happened. Presently he rang again. At this moment the door opened. "Don't ring twice," said a very angry old man. "What do you want?" "Is Mr. Blount in?" 65 Vile Bodies "There's no Mr. Blount here. This is Colonel Blount's house. " "I'm sorry. . .. I think the Colonel is expecting me to luncheon." "Nonsense. I'm Colonel Blount," and he shut the door. The Ford had disappeared. It was still raining hard. Adam rang again. "Yes," said Colonel Blount, appearing instantly. "I wonder if you'd let me telephone to the station for a taxi?" "Not on the telephone. . . . It's raining. Why don't you come in? It's absurd to walk to the station in this. Have you come about the 'vacuum cleaner?" "No." "Funny, I've been expecting a man all the morning to show me a vacuum cleaner. Come in, do. Won't you stay to luncheon?" "I should love to." "Splendid. I get very little company nowadays. You must forgive me for opening the door to you myself. My butler is in bed to-day. He suffers terribly in his feet when it is wet. Both my footmen were killed in the war. . . . Put your hat and coat here. I hope you haven't got wet. . . . I'm sorry you didn't bring the vacuum cleaner . . . but never mind. How are you?" he said, suddenly holding out his hand. They shook hands and Colonel Blount led the way down a long corridor, lined with marble busts on yeIIow marble pedestals, to a large room full of furniture, with a fire burning in a fine rococo fireplace. There was a large leather-topped walnut writing-table under a window opening on to a terrace. Colonel Blount picked up a telegram and read it. "I'd quite forgotten," he said in some confusion. "I'm afraid you'll think me very discourteous, but it is, 66 Vile Bodies after all, impossible for me to ask you to luncheon. 1 have a guest coming on very intimate family business. You understand, don't you? . . . To tell you the truth, it's some young rascal who wants to marry my daughter. 1 must see him alone to discuss settlements." "Well, 1 want to marry your daughter, too," said Adam. "What an extraordinary coincidence. Are you sure you do?" "Perhaps the telegram may be about me. What does it say?" " 'Engaged to marry Adam Symes. Expect him lwzcheon. Nina.' Are you Adam Symes?" "Yes. " "My dear boy, why didn't you say so before, instead of going on about a vacuum cleaner? How are you?" They shook hands again. "If you don't mind," said Colonel Blount, "we will keep our business until after luncheon. I'm afraid every- thing is looking very bare at present. You must come down and see the gardens in the summer. We had some lovely hydrangeas last year. 1 don't think I shall live here another winter. Too big for an old man. I was looking at some of the houses they're putting up outside Aylesbury. Did you see them coming along? Nice little red houses. Bathroom and everything. Quite cheap, too, and near the cinemato- graphs. 1 hope you are fond of the cinematograph too? The Rector and 1 go a great deal. 1 hope you'll like the Rector. Common little man rather. But he's got a motor car, useful that. How long are you staying?" "I promised Nina I'd be back to-night." "That's a pity. They change the film at the Electra Palace. We might have gone." An elderly woman servant came in to announce luncheon. "What is at the Electra Palace, do you know, Mrs. Florin?" 61 Vile Bodies 'Greta Garbo in 'Venetian Kisses,' I think, sir." "I don't really think 1 like Greta Garbo. I've tried to," said Colonel Blount, "but 1 just don't." They went in to luncheon in a huge dining-room dark with family portraits. "If you don't mind," said Colonel Blount, "I prefer not to talk at meals." He propped a morocco-bound volume of Punch before his plate against a vast silver urn, from which grew a small castor-oil plant. "Give Mr. Symes a book," he said. Mrs. Florin put another volume of Punch beside Adatn. "If you come across anything really funny read it to me," said Colonel Blount. Then they had luncheon. They were nearly an hour over luncheon. Course followed course in disconcerting abundance while Colonel Blount ate and ate, turning the leaves of his book and chuckling frequently. They ate hare soup and boiled turbot and stewed sweetbreads and black Bradenham ham with Madeira sauce and roast pheasant and a ruIn omelette and toasted cheese and fruit. First they drank sherry, then claret, then port. Then Colonel Blount shut his book with a broad sweep of his arm rather as the headmaster of Adam's private school used to shut the Bible after evening prayers, folded his napkin carefully and stuffed it into a massive silver ring, muttered some, words of grace and finally stood up, saying: "Well, 1 don't know about you, but I'm going to have a little nap," and trotted out of the room. "There's a fire in the library, sir," said Mrs. Florin. "I'll bring you your coffee there. The Colonel doesn't have coffee, he finds it interferes with his afternoon sleep. What time would you like your afternoon tea, sir?" "I ought really to be getting back to London. How: 68 Vile Bodies long will it be before the Colonel comes down, do you think?" "Wen, it all depends, sir. Not usually till about five or half-past. Then he reads until dinner at seven and after dinner gets the Rector to drive him in to the pictures. A sedentary life, as you might say." She led Adam into the library and put a silver coffee-pot at his elbow. "I'll bring you tea at four," she said. Adam sat in front of the fire in a deep annchair. Outside the rain beat on the double windows. There were several magazines in the library-mostly cheap weeklies devoted to the cinema. There was a stuffed owl and a case of early British remains, bone pins and bits of pottery and a skull, which had b en dug up in the park many years ago and catalogued by Nina's governess. There was a cabinet containing the relics of Nina's various collecting fevers-some butterflies and a beetle or two, some fossils and some birds' eggs and a few postage stamps. There were some bookcases of superbly un- readable books, a gun, a butterfly net, an alpenstock in the corner. There were catalogues of agricultural machines and acetylene plants, lawn mowers, "sports requisites." There was a fire screen worked with a coat of anns. The chimney-piece was hung with the embroidered saddle-cloths of Colonel Blount's regiment of Lancers. There was an engraving of all the members of the Royal Yacht Squadron, with a little plan in the corner, marked to show who was who. There were many other things of equal interest besides, but before Adam had noticed any more he was fast asleep. Mrs. Florin woke him at four. The coffee had disappeared and its place was taken by a silver tray with a lace c oth on it. There was a silver tea-pot, and a silver kettle with a little spirit-lamp underneath, and a silver 69 Vile Bodies cream jug and a covered silver dish full of muffins. There was also hot buttered toast and honey and gentleman's relish and a chocolate cake, a cherry cake, a seed cake and a fruit cake and some tomato sandwiches and pepper and salt and currant bread and butter. . "Would you care for a lightly boiled egg, sir? The Colonel generally has one if he's awake." "No, thank you," said Adam. He felt a thousand times better for his rest. When Nina and he were married, he thought, they would often come down there for the day after a really serious party. For the first time he noticed an obese liver and white spaniel, which was waking up, too, on the hearthrug. "Please not to give her muffins," said Mrs. Florin, "it's the one thing she's not supposed to have, and the Colonel will give them to her. He loves that dog," she added with a burst of confidence. "Takes her to the pictures with him. of an evening. Not that she can appreciate them realIy like a human can." Adam gave her-the spaniel, not Mrs. Florin-a gentle prod with his foot and a lump of sugar. She licked his shoe with evident cordiality. Adam was not above feeling flattered by friendliness in dogs. He had finished his tea and was filling his pipe when Colonel Blount came into the library. "Who the devil are you?" said his host. "Adam Symes," said Adam. "Never heard of you. How did you get in? Who gave you tea? What do you want?" "You asked me to luncheon," said Adam. "I came about being married to Nina." "My dear boy, of course. How absurd of me. I've such a bad memory for names. It comes of seeing so few people. How are you?" They shook hands again. 10 Vile Bod'es "So you're the young man who's engaged to Nina," said the Colonel, eyeing him for the first time in the way prospective sons-in-Iaws are supposed to be eyed. "Now what in the world do you want to get married for? I shouldn't, you know, really I shouldn't. Are you rich?" "No, not at present, I'm afraid, that's rather what I wanted to talk about." "How much money have you got?" "Well, sir, actually at the moment I haven't got any at all.'' "When did you last have any?" "I had a thousand pounds last night, but I gave it all to a drunk Major." "Why did you do that?" "Well, I hoped hC?'d put it on Indian Runner for the November Handicap." "Never heard of the horse. Didn"t he?" "I don't think he can have." "When will you next have some money?" "When I've written some books!' "How many books?" "Twelve. " "How much will you have then'?" "Probably fifty pounds advance on my thirteenth book." "And how long will it take you to write twelve books?" "About a year." "How long would it take most people?" "About twenty years. Of course, put like that I do see that it sounds rather hopeless . . . but, you see, Nina and I hoped that you, that is, that perhaps for the next year until I get my twelve books written, that you might help us. . ." "How could I help you? I've never written a book in my life." "No, we thought you might give us some money." '11 Vile Bodies "You thought that, did you?" "Yes, that's what we thought. . ." Colonel Blount looked at him gravely for some time. Then he said, "I think that an admirable idea. I don't see any reason at all why I shouldn't. How much do you want?" "That's really terribly good of you, sir. . . Well, you know, just enough to live on quietly for a bit. I hardly know. . ." "Well, would a thousand pounds be any help?" "Yes, it would indeed. We shall both be terribly grateful. " "Not at all, my dear boy. Not at all. What did you say your name was?" "Adam Symes." Colonel Blount went to the table and wrote out a cheque. "There you are," he said. "Now don't go giving that away to another drunk major." "Really, sir! I don't know how to thank you. Nina..." "Not another word. Now I expect that you will want to be off to London again. We'll send Mrs. Florin across to the Rectory and make the Rector drive you to the station. Useful having a neighbour with a motor car. They charge fivepence on the buses from here to Aylesbury. Robbers." It does not befall many young men to be given a thousand pounds by a complete stranger twice on succes. sive evenings. Adam laughed aloud in the Rector's car as they drove to the station. The Rector, who had been in the middle of writing a sermon and resented with daily increasing feeling Colonel Blount's neighbourly appropria.tion of his car and himself, kept his eyes fixed on the streaming windscreen, pretending not to notice. Adam laughed all the way to Aylesbury, sitting and holdini his knees and shaking all over. The Rector 72 Vile Bodies could hardly bring himself to say good-night when they parted in the station yard. There was half an hour to wait for a train and the leaking roof and wet railway lines had a sobering effect on Adam. He bought an evening paper. On the front page was an exquisitely funny photograph of Miss Runcible in Hawaiian costume tumbling down the steps of No. 10, Downing Street. The Government had fallen that afternoon, he read, being defeated on a motion rising from the answer to a question about the treatment of Miss Runcib1e by Customs House officers. It was generally held in Parlia- mentary circles that the deciding factor in this reverse had been the revolt of the Liberals and the Nonconformist members at the revelations of the life that was led at No. 10, Downing. Street, during Sir James Brown's tenancy. The Evening Mail had a leading article, which drew a fine analogy between Public and Domestic Purity, between sobriety in the family and in the State. There was another small paragraph which interested Adam. · "Tragedy in West-End Hotel. "The death occurred early this morning at a private hotel in Dover Street of Miss Florence Ducane, described as being of independent means, following an accident in which Miss Ducane fell from a chandelier which she was attempting to mend. The inquest will be held to-morrow, which will be followed by the cremation at GoZders Green. Miss Ducane, who was formerly connected with the stage, was well known in business circles." Which only showed, thought Adam, how much better Lottie Crump knew the business of avoiding undesirable publicity than Sir James Brown. When Adam reached London the rain had stopped, but 73 Vile Bodies there was a thin fog drifting in belts before a damp wind. The station was crowded with office workers hurrying with attache cases and evening papers to catch their evening trains home, coughing and sneezing as they went. They still wore their poppies. Adam went to a telephone-box and rang up Nina. She had left a message for him that she was having cocktails at Margot Metro- land's house. He drove to Shepheard's. . "Lottie," he said, "I've got a thousand pounds." "Have you, now," said Lottie indifferently. She lived on the assumption that every one she knew always had several thousand pounds. It was to her as though he had said, "Lottie, I have a taIl hat." _ "Can you lend me some money till to-morrow till I cash the cheque?" "What a boy you are for borrowing. Just like yom poor father. Here, you in the corner, lend Mr. What- d'you-caIl-him some money." A tall Guardsman shook his retreating forehead and twirled his moustaches. "No good coming to me, Lottie," he said in a voice trained to command. "Mean hound," said Lottie. "Where's that American?" Judge Skimp, who, since his experiences that morning, had become profoundly Anglophile, produced two ten- pound notes. "I shall be only too proud and honoured . . ." he said. "Good old Judge Thingummy," said Lottie. "That's the way." Adam hurried out into the haIl as another bottle of champagne popped festively in the parlour. "Doge, ring up the Daimler Hire CO:QJ.pany and order a car in my name. Tell it to go round to Lady Metroland's -Pastmaster House, Hill Street," he said. Then he put on his hat and walked down Hay Hill, swinging an umbrella 74 Vile Bodies and laughing again, only more quietly, to himself. At Lady Metroland's he kept on his coat and waited in the hall. "Will you please tell Miss Blount I've called for her? No, I won't go up." He looked at the hats on the table. Clearly there was quite a party. Two or three silk hats of people who had dressed early, the rest soft and black like his own. Then he began to dance again, jigging to himself in simp 'e high spirits. In a minute Nina came down the broad Adam staircase. "Darling, why didn't you come up? It's so rude. Margot is longing to see you." "I'm so sorry, Nina. I couldn't face a party. I'm so excited." "Why, what's happened?" "Everything. I'll tell you in the car." "Car?" "Yes, it'lI be here in a minute. We're going down to the country for dinner. I can't tell you how clever I've been." "But what have you done, darling? Do stop dancing about. " "Can't stop. You've no idea how clever I am." "Adam. Are you tight again?" "Look out of the window and see if you can see a Daimler waiting." "Adam, what have you been doing? I will be told." "Look," said Adam, producing the cheque. "Whatcher think of that?" he added in Cockney. "My dear, a thousand pounds. Did papa give you that?" "I earned it," said Adam. "Oh, I earned it. You should have seen the luncheon I ate and the jokes I read. I'm going to be married to-morrow. Oh, Nina, would Margot hate it if I sang in her hall?" 75 Vile Bodies "She'd simply loathe it, darling, and so should I. I'm going to take care of that cheque. You remember what happened the last time you were given a thousand pounds. " "That's what your papa said." "Did you tell him that?" "I told him everything-and he gave me a thousand pounds. " ". . . Poor Adam. . ." said Nina suddei1ly. "Why did you say that?" "I don't know. . . . I believe this is your car. . . ." "Nina, why did you say 'Poor Adam'?" .. . . . Did I? . . . Oh, I don't know. . . . Oh, I do adore you so." "I'm going to be married to-morrow. Are you?" "Yes, I expect so, dear." The chauffeur got rather bored while they tried to decide where they would dine. At every place he suggested they gave a little wail of dismay. "But that's sure to be full of awful people we know," they said. Maidenhead, Thame, Brighton, he suggested. Finally they decided to go to Arundel. "It'll be nearly nine before we get there," the chiiuffeur said. "Now there's a very nice hotel at Bray. . . ." But they went to Arundel. "We'll be married to-morrow," said Adam in the car. "And we won't ask anybody to the wedding at all. And we'll go abroad at once, and just not come back till I've written all those books. Nina, isn't it divine? Where shall we go?" "Anywhere you like, only rather warm, don't you think?" "I don't believe you really think we are going to be married, Nina, do you, or do you?" "I don't know . . . it's only that I don't believe that 76 Vile Bodies really divine things like that ever do happen. . . . I don't know why. . . . Oh, I do like you so much to-night. If only you knew how sweet you looked skipping a bout in Margot's hall all by yourself. I'd been watching you for hours before I came down." "I shaH send the car back," said Adam, as they drove through Pulborough. "We can go home by train." "If there is a train." "There's bound to be," said Adam. But this raised a question in both their minds that had been unobtrusively agitating them throughout the journey. Neither said any more on the subject, but there was a distinct air of constraint in the Daimler from Pulborough onwards. This question was settled wh.en they reached the hotel at Arundel. "We want dinner:' said Adam, "and a room for the night." , "Darling, am I going to be seduced?" "I'm afraid you are. Do you mind terribly?" "Not as much as all that," said Nina, and added in Cockney, "Charmed, I'm sure." Every one had finished dinner. They dined alone in a corner of the coffee-room, while the other waiters laid the tables for breakfast, looking at them resentfully. It was the dreariest kind of English dinner. After dinner the lounge was awful; there were some golfers in dinner- jackets playing bridge, and two old ladies. Adam and Nina went across the stable-yard to the tap-room and sat until closing-time in a warm haze of tobacco smoke listening to the intermittent gossip of the towns-people. They sat hand-in-hand, unembarrassed; after the first minute no one noticed them. Just before closing time Adam stood a round of drinks. They said: "Good health, sir. Best respects, madam," and the 77 Vile Bodies barman said, "Come along, please. Finish your drinks, please," in a peculiar sing-song tone. There was a clock chiming as they crossed the yard and a slightly drunk farmer trying to start up his c,,\r. Then they went up an oak staircase lined with blunderbusses and coaching prints to their room. They had no luggage (the chambermaid remarked on this next day to the young man who worked at the wireless shop, saying that that was the worst of being in a main road hotel. You got all sorts). Adam undressed very quickly and got into bed; Nina more slowly arranging her clothes on the chair and finger- ing the ornaments on the chimney-piece with less than her usual self-possession. At last she put out the light. "Do you know," she said, trembling slightly as she got into bed, "this is the first time this has happened to me?" "It's great fun," said Adam, "I promise you." "I'm sure it is," said Nina seriously, "I wasn't saying anything against it. I was only saying that it hadn't happened before. . . . Oh, Adam. . . ." "And you said that really divine things didn't happen," said Adam in the middle of the night. "I don't think that this is at all divine," said Nina. "It's given me a pain. And-my dear, that reminds me. I've something terribly important to say to you in the morning. " "What?" "Not now, darling, Let's go to sleep for a little, don't you think?" Before Nina was properly awake Adam dressed and went out into the rain to get a shave. He came back bringing two tooth-brushes and a bright red celluloid comb. Nina sat up in bed and combed her hair. She put Adam's coat over her back. 78 Vile Bodies "My dear, you look exactly like La Vie Parisieme," said Adam, turning round from brushing his teeth. Then she threw off the coat and jumped out of bed, and he told her that she looked like a fashion drawing without the clothes. Nina was rather pleased about that, but she said that it was cold and that she still had a pain, only not so bad as it was. Then she dressed and they went downstairs. Every one else had had breakfast and the waiters were laying the tables for luncheon. "By the way," said Adam. "You said there was some- thing you wanted to say." "Oh, yes, so there is. My dear, something quite awful." "Do tell me." "Well, it's about that cheque papa gave you. I'm afraid it won't help us as much as you thought." "But, darling, it's a thousand pounds, isn't it?" "Just look at it, my sweet." She took it out of her bag and handed it across the table. "I don't see anything wrong with it," said Adam. "Not the signature?" "Why, good lord, the old idiot's signed it 'Charlie Chaplin.' " "That's what I mean, darling." "But can't we get him to alter it? He must be dotty. I'll go down and see him again to-day." "I shouldn't do that, dear . , . don't you see. , . . Of course, he's very old, and. . . I dare say you may have made things sound a little odd . . . don't you think, dear, he must have thought you a little dotty? . . . I mean . . . perhaps. . . that cheque was a kind of joke." "Well I'm damned . . , this really is a bore. When everything seemed to be going so well, too. When did you notice the signature, Nina?" "As soon as you showed it to me, at Margot's. Only you looked so happy I didn't like to say anything. 19 Vile Bodies You did look happy, you know, Adam, and 50 sweet. I think I really fell in love with you for the first time when I saw you dancing all alone in the hall." "Well I'm damned," said Adam again. "The old deviL" "Anyway, you've had some fun out of it: haven't you . . . or haven't you?" "Haven't you?" "My dear, I never hated anything so much in my life . . . still, as long as you enjoyed it that's something." "I say, Nina," said Adam after some time, "we shan't be able to get married after all." "No, I'm afraid not." "It is a bore, isn't it?" Later he said, "I expect that parson thought I was dotty too. " And later, "As a matter of fact, it's rather a good joke, don't you think?" "I think it's divine." In the train Nina said: "It's awful to think that I shall probably never, as long as I live, see you dancing like that again all by yourself." CHAPTER VI T HAT evening Lady Metroland gave a party for Mrs. Melrose Ape. Adam found the telegram of invitation waiting for him on his return to Shepheard's. (Lottie had already used the prepaid reply to do some .betting with. Some one had given her a tip for the November Handicap and she wanted to "make her little flutter" before she forgot the name.) He also found an invitation to luncheon from Simon Balcaim. The food at Shepheard's tends to be mostly game-pie- quite black inside and full of beaks and shot and in- explicable vertebr so Adam was quite pleased to lunch iO Vile Bodies with Simon BaIcairn, though he knew there must be some slightly sinister motive behind this sudden hospitality. They lunched Chez Espinosa, the second most expensive restaurant in London; it was full of oilcloth and Lalique glass, and the sort of people who liked that sort of thing went there continually and said how awful it was. "I hope you don't mind coming to this awful restaurant," said Balcaim. "The truth is that I get meals free if I mention them occasionally in my page. Not drinks, unfortunately. Who's here, Alphonse?" he asked the maitre d' hOtel. Alphonse handed him the typewritten slip that was always kept for gossip writers. "H'm, yes. Quite a good list this morning, Alphonse. I'll do what I can about it." "Thank you, sir. A table for two? A cocktail?" "No, I don't think I want a cocktail. I really haven't time. Will you have one, Adam? They aren't very good here." "No, thanks," said Adam. "Sure?" said BaIcaim, already making for their table. When they were being helped to caviare he looked at the wine list. "The lager is rather good," he said. "What would you like to drink?" "Whatever you're having.. . . I think some lager would be lovely." "Two small bottles of lager, please. . . . Are you sure you really like that better than anything?" "Yes, really, thank you." Simon BaIcairn looked about him gloomily, occasion- ally adding a new name to his list. (It is so depressing to be in a profession in which literally all conversation is "shop. ") Presently he said, with a deadly air of carelessness: "81 Vile Bodies "Margot Metroland's got a party to-night, hasn't she? Are you going?" "I think probably. I usually like Margot's parties, don't you?" "Yes. . . . Adam, I'll tell you a very odd thing. She hasn't sent me an invitation to this one." "I expect she will. I only got mine this morning." ". . . Yes. . . who's that woman just come in in the fur coat? I know her so well by sight." "Isn't it Lady Everyman?" "Yes, of course." Another name was added to the list. Ba1caim paused in utmost gloom and ate some salad. "The thing is . . . she told Agatha Runcible she wasn't going to ask me." "Why not?" "Apparently she's in a rage about something I said about something she said about Miles." "People do take things so seriously," said Adam encouragingly. "It means ruin for me," said Lord Balcaim. "Isn't that Pamela Popham?" "I haven't the least idea." "I'm sure it is . . . I must look up the spelling in the stud book when I get back. I got into awful trouble about spelling the other day.... Ruin. . . . She's asked V anburgh." "Well, he's some sort of cousin, isn't he?" "It's so damned unfair. All my cousins are. in lunatic asylwns or else they live in the country and do indelicate things with wild animals . . . Except my mamma, and that's worse . . . they were furious at the office about Van getting that Downing Street 'scoop.' If I miss this party I may as well leave Fleet Street for good. . . I may as well put my head into a gas-oven and have done with 82 Vile Bodies It . . . I'm sure if Margot knew how much it meant to me she wouldn't mind my coming." Great tears stood in his eyes threatening to overflow. "All this last week," he said, "I've been reduced to making up my page from the Court Circular and Debrett . . . Noone ever asks me anywhere now . . ." "I'll tell you what," said Adam, "I know Margot pretty well. If you like I'll ring her up and ask if I may bring you. " "Will you? Will you, Adam? If only you really would. Let's go and do it at once. We've no time for coffee or liqueurs. Quick, we can telephone from my office . . . yes, that black hat and my umbrella, no, I've lost the number. . . there, no, there, oh do hurry. . . . Yes, a taxi . . ." They were out in the street and into a taxi before Adam had time to say any more. Soon they were imbedded in a traffic block in the Strand, and after a time they reached Balcaim's office in Fleet Street. They went up to a tiny room with "Social" written on the glass of the door. Its interior seemed not to justify its name. There was one chair, a typewriter, a telephone, some books of reference and a considerable litter of photo- graphs. BaIcairn's immediate superior sat in the one chair. "Hullo," she said. "So you're back. Where you been?" "Espinosa. Here's the list." The social editress read it through. "Can't have Kitty Blackwater," she said. "Had her yesterday. Others'll do. Write 'em down to a couple of paragraphs. Suppose you didn't notice what they were wearing?" "Yes," said Balcairn eagerly. "All of them." "Well, you won't have room to use it. We got to keep everything down for Lady M.'s party. I've cut out the D. of Devonshire altogether. By the way, the photograph you 83 Vile Bodies used yesterday wasn't the present Countess of Everyman. It's an old one of the Dowager. We had 'em both on the 'phone about it, going on something awful. That's you again. Got your i:o.vite for to-night?" "Not yet." "You better get it quick. I got to have a first-hand story before we go to press, see? By the way, know anything about this? Lady R.'s maid sent it in to-day." She picked up a slip of paper: " 'Rumoured engagement broken off between Adam Fenwick-Symes, only son of the late Professor Oliver Fenwick-Symes, and Nina Blount, of Doubting Hall, Aylesbury.' Never heard of either. Ain't even been announced, so far as I'm aware of." "You'd better ask him. This is Adam Symes." "Rullo, no offence meant, I'm sure. . . . What about it?" "It is neither announced or broken off." "N.B.G. in fact, eh? Then that goes there." She put the slip into the wastepaper basket. "That girl's sent us a . lot of bad stuff lately. Well, I'm off for a bit of lunch. I'll be over at the Garden Club if anything urgent turns up. So long." The editress went out, banging the door labelled "Social," and whistled as she went down the passage. "You see how they treat me," said Lord Balcairn. "They were all over me when I first arrived. I do so wish I were dead." "Don't cry," said Adam, "it's too shy-making." "I can't help it . . . oh, do come in." The door marked "Social" opened and a small boy came in. "Lord Circumference's butler downstairs with some engagements and a divorce." "Tell him to leave them." "Very good, my lord." "That's the only person in this office who's ever polite .84- Vi Ie Bodies to me, II said Ba1cairn as the messenger disappeared. "I wish I had something to leave him in my will. . . . Do ring up Margot. Then I shall at any rate know the worse. . . . Come in." , "Gentleman of the name of General Strapper down- stairs. Wants to see you very particular." "What about?" "Couldn't say, my lord, but he's got a whip. Seems very put out about something." "Tell him the social editor is having luncheon. . . . Do ring up Margot." Adam said, "Margot, may I bring some one with me to- night?" "Well, Adam, I really don't think you can. I can't imagine how everyone's going to get in as it is. I'm terribly sorry, who is it?" "Simon Balcairn. He's particularly anxious to come." "I dare say he is. I'm rather against that young man. He's written things about me in the papers." "Please, Margot." "Certainly not. I won't have him inside my house. I've only asked Van. on the strictest understanding that he doesn't write anything about it. I don't wish to have anything more to do with Simon Ba1cairn." "My dear, how rich you sound." "I feel my full income when that young man is men- tioned. Good-bye. See you to-night." "You needn't tell me," said Balcaim. "I know what she's said . . . it's no good, is itT' "I'm afraid not." "Done for . . ." said Balcaim. II... End of the tether. . . ." He turned over some slips of paper listlessly. "Would it interest you to hear that Agatha and Archie are engaged?" "I don't believe it." ,85 Vile Bodies "Neither do I. One of our people has just sent it in. Half of what they send us is lies, and the other half libel . . . they sent us a long story about Miles and Pamela Popham having spent last night at Arundel. . . . But we couldn't use it even if it were true, which it obviously isn't, knowing Miles. Thank you for doing what you could . . . good-bye. " Downstairs in the outer office there was an altercation in progress. A large man of military appearance was shaking and stamping in front of a middle-aged woman. Adam recognized the social editress. "Answer me, yes or no," the big man was saying. "Are you or are you not responsible for this damnable lie about my daughter?" (He had read in Simon Balcairn's column that his daughter had been seen at a night club. To anyone better acquainted with Miss Strapper's habits of life the para. graph was particularly reticent.) "Yes or no," cried the General, "or I'll shake the life out of you." "No. " "Then who is? Let me get hold of the cad who wrote it. Where is he?" roared the General. "Upstairs," the social editress managed to say. "More trouble for Simon," thought Adam. Adam went to pick Nina up at her flat. They had arranged to go to a cinema together. She said, "You're much later than you said. It's so boring to be late for a ta1ki " e. He said, "Talkies are boring, anyhow." They treated each other quite differently after their night's experiences. Adam was inclined to be egotistical and despondent; Nina was rather grown-up and dis. illusioned and distinctly cross. Adam. began to say that 86 Vile Bodies as far as he could see he would have to live on at Shep- heard's now for the rest of his life, or at any rate for the rest of Lottie's life, as it wouldn't be fair to leave without paying the bill. ' Then Nina said, "Do be amusing, Adam. I can't bear you when you're not amusing." Then Adam began to tell her about Simon Balcairn and Margot's party. He described how he had seen Simon being horse-whipped in the middle of the office. Nina said, "Yes, that's amusing. Go on like that." The story of Simon's whipping lasted them all the way to the cinema. They were very late for the film Nina wanted to see, and that set them back again. They didn't speak for a long time. Then Nina said a propos of the film, "AIl this fuss about sleeping together. For physical pleasure I'd sooner go to my dentist any day." Adam said, "You'll enjoy it more next time." Nina said, "Next time," and told him that he took too much for granted. Adam said that that was a phrase which only prostitutes used. Then they started a real quarrel which lasted all through the film and all the way to Nina's flat and all the time she was cutting up a lemon and making a cocktail, until Adam said that if she didn't stop going on he would ravish her there and then on her own hearth-rug. Then Nina went on. But by the time that Adam went to dress she had climbed down enough to admit that perhaps love was a thing one could grow to be fond of after a time, like smoking a pipe. Still she maintained that it made one feel very ill at first, and she doubted if it was worth it. Then they began to argue at the top of the lift about whether acquired tastes were ever worth acquiring. Adam said it was imitation, and that it was natural to 8J Vile Bodies roan to be imitative, so that acquired tastes were natural. But the presence of the lift boy stopped that argument coming to a solution as the other had done. "My, ain't this classy," said Divine Discontent. "It's all right," said Chastity in a worldly voice. "Nothing to make a song and dance about." "Who's making a song and dance? I just said it was classy-and it is classy, ain't it?" "I suppose everything's classy to some people." "Now you two," said Temperance, who had been put in charge of the angels for the evening, "don't you start anything in here, not with your wings on. Mrs. Ape won't stand for scrapping in wings, and you know it." "Who's starting anything?" "Well, you are then." "Oh, it's no use talking to Chastity. She's too high and mighty to be an angel now. Went out for a drive with Mrs. Panrast in a Rolls Royce," said Fortitude. "I saw I her. I was so sorry it rained all the time, or it might have been quite enjoyable, mightn't it, Chastity?" "Wen, you ought to be glad. Leaves the men for you, Fortitude. Only they don't seem to want to take advan. tage, do they?" Then they talked about men for some time. Divine Discontent thought the second footman had nice eyes. "And he knows it," said Temperance. They were all having supper together in what was still caIled the schoolroom in Lady Metr land's house. From the window they could see the guests arriving for the party. In spite of the rain quite a large crowd had collected on either side of the awning to criticize the cloaks with appreciative "oohs" and "ahs" or contemptuous sniffs. Cars and taxis drove up in close succession. Lady Circum- ference splashed up the street in goloshes, wearing a high 88 Vile Bod;es fender of diamonds under a tartan umbrella. The Bright Young People came popping all together, out of some one's electric brougham like a litter of pigs, and ran squealing up the steps. Some "gate-crashers" who had made the mistake of coming in Victorian fancy dress were detected and repulsed. They hurried home to change for a second assault. No one wanted to miss Mrs. Ape's debut. But the angels were rather uneasy. They had been dressed ever since seven o'clock in their white shifts, gold , sashes and wings. It was now past ten, and the strain was beginning to tell, for it was impossible to sit back comfort- ably in wings. "Oh, I wish they'd hurry up so we could get it over," said Creative Endeavour. "Mrs. Ape said we could have some champagne afterwards if we sang nice." I "I don't mind betting she's doing herself pretty well, down there." "Chastity!" "Oh, all right." Then the footman with the nice eyes came to clear the table. He gave them a friendly wink as he shut the door. "Pretty creatures," he thought. "Blooming shame that they're so religious . . . wasting the best years of their lives. " (There had been a graye debate in the servants' hall about the exact status of angels. Even Mr. B1e.nkinsop, the butler, had been uncertain. "Angels are certainly not guests," he had said, "and I don't think they are deputa- tions. Nor they ain't governesses either, nor clergy not strictly speaking; they're not entertainers, because enter- tainers dine nowadays, the more's the. pity." "I believe they're decorators," said Mrs. Blouse, "or else charitable workers." "Charitable workers are governesses, Mrs. Blouse. There is nothing to be gained by multiplying social distinctions 89 Vile Bodies indefinitely. Decorators are either guests or workmen." After further discussion the conclusion was reached that angels were nurses, and that became the official ruling of the household. But the second footman was of the opinion that they were just "young persons," pure and simple, "and very nice too," for nurses cannot, except in very rare cases, be winked at, and clearly angels could.) "What we want to know, Chastity," said Creative Endeavour, "is how you come to take up with Mrs. Panrast at all.'' "Yes," said the Angels, "yes. It's not like you, Chastity, to go riding in a motor car with a woman." They fluttered their feathers in a menacing way. "Let's third-degree her," said Humility with rather nasty relish. (There was a system of impromptu jurisdiction among the Angels which began with innuendo, went on to cross. examination, pinches and slaps and ended, as a rule, in tears and kisses.) Faced by this circle of spiteful and haloed faces, Chastity began to lose her air of superiority. "Why shouldn't I ride with a friend," she asked plain. tively, "without all you girls pitching on me like this?" "Friend," said Creative Endeavour. "You never saw her before to-day," and she gave her a nasty pinch just above the elbow. i "Ooooh!" said Chastity. "DOh, please. . . beast." Then they all pinched her all over, but precisely and judiciously, so as not to disturb her wings or halo, for this was no orgy (sometimes in their bedrooms, they gave way, but not here, in Lady Metroland's schoolroom, before an important first night). "Ooh," said Chastity, "DOh, ow, ooh, ow. Please, beasts, swine, cads. . . please. . . ooh. . wen, if you must know, I thought she was a man." 90 Vile Bodies "Th<1Ught she was a man, Chastity? That doesn't sound right to me." "Well, she looks like a man and-and she goes on like a man. I saw her sitting at a table in a tea-shop. She hadn't got a hat on, and I couldn't see her skirt . . . ooh . . . how can I tell you if you keep pinching . . . and she smiled and so, well, I went and had some tea with her, and she said would I go out with her in her motor car, and I said yes and, ooh, I wish I hadn't now." "What did she say in the motor car, Chastity?" "I forget-nothing much." .' "Oh, what.", "Do tell us." "We'll never pinch you again if you tell us." "I'm sorry if I hurt you, Chastity, do telI me." "You'd better tell us." "No, I can't, real/y-I don't remember, I tell you." "Give her another little nip, girls." "Ooh, ooh, ooh, stop. I'll tell you." Their heads were close together and they were so deeply engrossed in the story that they did not hear Mrs. Ape's entry. "Smut again," said a terrible voice. "Girls, I'm sick ashamed of you." Mrs. Ape looked magnificent in a gown of heavy gold brocade embroidered with texts. "I'm sick ashamed of you," repeated Mrs. Ape, "and you've made Chastity cry again, just before the big act. If you must bully some one, why choose Chastity? You all know by this time that crying always gives her a red nose. How do Ilook, I should like to know, standing up in front of a lot of angels with red noses. You don't ever think of nothing but your own pleasures, do you? Sluts." This last word was spoken with a depth of expression that set the angels trembling. "There'll be no champagne for any one to-night, see. And if you don't sing perfectly, I'll give the whole lot of you a good hiding, see. Now, come on, 91 Vile Bodies now, and for the love of the Lamb, Chastity, do somethi1l8 to your nose. They'll think it's a temperance meetin! to see you like that." It was a brilliant scene into which the disconsolatl angels trooped two minutes later. Margot Metroland shook hands with each of them as they came to the foot oj the staircase, appraising them, one by one, with an expert eye. "You don't look happy, my dear," she found time to say to Chastity, as she led them across the ballroom to their platform, banked in orchids at the far end. "If you feel you want a chahge, let me know later, and I can get you a job in South America. I mean it." "Oh, thank you," said Chastity, "but I could never leave Mrs. Ape." "Well, think it over, child. You're far too pretty a girl to waste your time singing 1iI.ymns. Tell that other girl, the red-headed one, that I can probably find a place for her, too. " "What, Humility? Don't you have nothing to do with her. She's a fiend." "Well, some men like rough stuff, but I don't want any one who makes trouble with the other girls." "She makes trouble all right. Look at that bruise." "My dear!" Margot Metroland and Mrs. Ape led the angels up the steps between the orchids and stood them at the back of the platform facing the room. Chastity stood next to Creative Endeavour. "Please, Chastity, I'm sorry if we hurt you," said Creative Endeavour. "I didn't pinch hard, did I?" "Yes," said Chastity. "Like heII you did." A slightly sticky hand tried to take hers, but she clellched her fist. She would go to South America and work for Lady Metroland . . . and she wouldn't say 92 Vile Bodies anything about it to Humility either. She glared straight in front of her, saw Mrs. Panrast and dropped her eyes. The baIIroom was fined with little gilt chairs and the chairs with people. Lord Vanburgh, conveniently seated near the door, through which he could slip away to the telephone, was taking them all in. They were almost all, in some way or another t.... notable. The motives for Margot Metroland's second marriage * had been mixed, but entirely worldly; chief among them had been the desire to re- establish her somewhat shaken social position, qnd her party that night testified to her success, for while many people can entertain the Prime Minister and the Duchess of Stayle and Lady Circumference, and anybody can, and often against her \viII does, entertain Miles Malpractice and Agatha Runcible, it is only a very confident hostess WhD wJJJ JnvJte both these sets togetheJ" .at the S.31J2C t1mC, differing, as they do, upon almost all questions of principle and deportment. Standing near Vanburgh, by the door, was a figure who seemed in himself to typify the change that had come over Pastmaster House when Margot Beste-Chetwynd became Lady Metroland; an unobtrusive man of rather less than average height, whose black beard, falling in tight burnished curls, nearly concealed th.e order of St. Michael and St. George which he wore fO'und his neck; he wore a large signet ring on the little finger of his left hand outside his white glove; there was an otchid in his buttonhole. His eyes, youthful but grave, wqndered among the crowd; occasionally he bowed with grace and decision. Several people were asking about him. "See the beaver with the medal," said Humility to Faith. "Who is that very important young man?" ask.oo Mrs. Blackwater of Lady Throbbing. "I don't know, dear. He bowed to you." · See Decline and Fall. 93 Vile Bodies "He bowed to you, dear." "How very nice . . . I wasn't quite sure. . . . He reminds me a little of dear Prince Anrep." "It's so nice in these days, isn't it, dearest, to see some one who really looks. . . don't you think?" "You mean the beard?" "The beard among other things, darling." Father Rothschild was conspiring with Mr. Outrage and Lord Metroland. He stopped short in the middle of his sentence. "Forgive me," he said, "but there are spies everywhere. That man with the beard, do you know him?" Lord Metroland thought vaguely he had something to do with the Foreign Office; Mr. Outrage seemed to remember having seen him before. "Exactly," said Father Rothschild. "I think it would be better if we continued our conversation in private. I have been watching him. He is bowing across the room to empty places and to people whose backs are turned to him." The Great Men withdrew to Lord Metroland's study. Father Rothschild closed the door silently and looked behind the curtains. "Shall I lock the door?" asked Lord Metroland. "No," said the Jesuit. "A lock does not prevent a spy from hearing; but it does hinder us, inside, from catching the spy." "Wen, I should never have thought of that," said Mr. Outrage in frank admiration. "How pretty Nina Blount is," said Lady Throbbing, busy from the front row with her lorgnette, "but don't you think, a little changed; almost as though. . ." "Y ou notice everything, darling." uWhen you get to our age, dear, there is so little left, 94 Vile Bodies but I do believe Miss Blount must have had an experience , . . she's sitting next to Miles. You know I heard from Edward to-night. He's on his way back. It will be a great blow for Miles because he's been living in Edward's house all this time. To tell you the truth I'm a little glad because from what I hear from Anne Opal thorpe, who lives opposite, the things that go on . . he's got a friend staying there now. Such an odd man-a dirt-track racer. But then it's no use attempting to disguise the fact, is there. . . . There's Mrs. Panrast . . . yes, dear, of course you know her, she used to be Eleanor Balcairn . . . now why does dear Margot ask anyone like that, do you think? . . . it is not as though Margot was so innocent . . . and there's Lord Monomark . . . yes, the man who owns those amusing papers . . . they say that he and Margot, but before her marriage, of course (her second marriage, I mean), but you never know, do you, how things crop up again? . . . I wonder where Peter Pastmaster is? . . . he never stays to Margot's parties . . . he was at dinner, of course, and, my dear, how he drank. . . . He can't be more than twenty-one. . . . Oh, so that is Mrs. Ape. What a coarse face. . . no dear, of course she can't hear . . . she looks like a procureuse . . . but perhaps I shouldn't say that here, should I?" Adam came and sat next to Nina. "Hullo," they said to each other. "My dear, do look at Mary Mouse's new young man," said Nina. Adam looked and saw that Mary was sitting next to the Maharajah of Pukkapore. "I call that a pretty pair," he said. "Oh, how bored I feel," said Nina. Mr. Benfleet was there talking to two poets. They said 95 Vile Bodies ". and I wrote to tell William that I