The Magician - W. Somerset Maugham (good romance books to read .txt) 📗

him, with shrill abuse. The gate was left unguarded, and the others were able to follow without difficulty.

“You can go to the door, but you won’t see Mr. Haddo,” the woman cried angrily. “You’ll get me sacked for letting you come.”

Susie saw the house. It was a fine old building in the Elizabethan style, but much in need of repair; and it had the desolate look of a place that has been uninhabited. The garden that surrounded it had been allowed to run wild, and the avenue up which they walked was green with rank weeds. Here and there a fallen tree, which none had troubled to remove, marked the owner’s negligence. Arthur went to the door and rang a bell. They heard it clang through the house as though not a soul lived there. A man came to the door, and as soon as he opened it, Arthur, expecting to be refused admission, pushed in. The fellow was as angry as the virago, his wife, who explained noisily how the three strangers had got into the park.

“You can’t see the squire, so you’d better be off. He’s up in the attics, and no one’s allowed to go to him.”

The man tried to push Arthur away.

“Be off with you, or I’ll send for the police.”

“Don’t be a fool,” said Arthur. “I mean to find Mr. Haddo.”

The housekeeper and his wife broke out with abuse, to which Arthur listened in silence. Susie and Dr. Porhoët stood by anxiously. They did not know what to do. Suddenly a voice at their elbows made them start, and the two servants were immediately silent.

“What can I do for you?”

Oliver Haddo was standing motionless behind them. It startled Susie that he should have come upon them so suddenly, without a sound. Dr. Porhoët, who had not seen him for some time, was astounded at the change which had taken place in him. The corpulence which had been his before was become now a positive disease. He was enormous. His chin was a mass of heavy folds distended with fat, and his cheeks were puffed up so that his eyes were preternaturally small. He peered at you from between the swollen lids. All his features had sunk into that hideous obesity. His ears were horribly bloated, and the lobes were large and swelled. He had apparently a difficulty in breathing, for his large mouth, with its scarlet, shining lips, was constantly open. He had grown much balder and now there was only a crescent of long hair stretching across the back of his head from ear to ear. There was something terrible about that great shining scalp. His paunch was huge; he was a very tall man and held himself erect, so that it protruded like a vast barrel. His hands were infinitely repulsive; they were red and soft and moist. He was sweating freely, and beads of perspiration stood on his forehead and on his shaven lip.

For a moment they all looked at one another in silence. Then Haddo turned to his servants.

“Go,” he said.

As though frightened out of their wits, they made for the door and with a bustling hurry flung themselves out. A torpid smile crossed his face as he watched them go. Then he moved a step nearer his visitors. His manner had still the insolent urbanity which was customary to him.

“And now, my friends, will you tell me how I can be of service to you?”

“I have come about Margaret’s death,” said Arthur.

Haddo, as was his habit, did not immediately answer. He looked slowly from Arthur to Dr. Porhoët, and from Dr. Porhoët to Susie. His eyes rested on her hat, and she felt uncomfortably that he was inventing some gibe about it.

“I should have thought this hardly the moment to intrude upon my sorrow,” he said at last. “If you have condolences to offer, I venture to suggest that you might conveniently send them by means of the penny post.”

Arthur frowned.

“Why did you not let me know that she was ill?” he asked.

“Strange as it may seem to you, my worthy friend, it never occurred to me that my wife’s health could be any business of yours.”

A faint smile flickered once more on Haddo’s lips, but his eyes had still the peculiar hardness which was so uncanny. Arthur looked at him steadily.

“I have every reason to believe that you killed her,” he said.

Haddo’s face did not for an instant change its expression.

“And have you communicated your suspicions to the police?”

“I propose to.”

“And, if I am not indiscreet, may I inquire upon what you base them?”

“I saw Margaret three weeks ago, and she told me that she went in terror of her life.”

“Poor Margaret! She had always the romantic temperament. I think it was that which first brought us together.”

“You damned scoundrel!” cried Arthur.

“My dear fellow, pray moderate your language. This is surely not an occasion when you should give way to your lamentable taste for abuse. You outrage all Miss Boyd’s susceptibilities.” He turned to her with an airy wave of his fat hand. “You must forgive me if I do not offer you the hospitality of Skene, but the loss I have so lately sustained does not permit me to indulge in the levity of entertaining.”

He gave her an ironical, low bow; then looked once more at Arthur.

“If I can be of no further use to you, perhaps you would leave me to my own reflections. The lodge-keeper will give you the exact address of the village constable.”

Arthur did not answer. He stared into vacancy, as if he were turning over things in his mind. Then he turned sharply on his heel and walked towards the gate. Susie and Dr. Porhoët, taken completely aback, did not know what to do; and Haddo’s little eyes twinkled as he watched their discomfiture.

“I always thought that your friend had deplorable manners,” he murmured.

Susie, feeling very ridiculous, flushed, and Dr. Porhoët awkwardly took off his hat. As they walked away, they felt Haddo’s mocking gaze fixed upon them, and they were