Joseph Hocking - The Man Who Rose Again

Four men sat in the smoking-room of a London club. They were alone. That is scarcely to be wondered at, for it was far past midnight. Moreover, it was not a large club, and even when the place was most frequented large numbers were seldom present. Three of the men were chatting cursorily about a defeat of the Government which had taken place that night, but the fourth, by far the most striking looking man of the quartette, sat almost by himself, moody and silent.

They were all young men. The oldest had barely reached his thirty-fifth year, while the youngest was evidently less than thirty. All of them gave evidence of being young men of leisure, and each of them could claim to belong to that class which is vaguely termed English gentlemen.

"Will the Government resign, think you?" said one.

"No," another replied.

"Why? It could hardly be called a snatch division."

"No, but governments do not resign unless the country is against them."

"Which it is."

"In a sense, yes; but in another sense, no. The question to-night was a brewer's question. Well, if they resigned and went to the country, they would be returned again. The brewers, for whom the Government has been fighting, would be sufficiently strong at the polls to secure the return of their supporters."

"Which is a strong reason why the Government will resign."

They went on discussing the question, neither saying anything worthy of record. They seemed to be deeply interested, however; perhaps because two of them were Parliamentary candidates. The man who sat apart, however, took no note of the conversation. He could by listening carefully have heard all that was said, but his mind seemed elsewhere. Neither did he speak to the others, although he knew each one intimately. Of what he was thinking it would be difficult to tell. There was a strange, vacant look in his eyes, and his face was very pale.

He seemed utterly oblivious of the time, and although a waiter hovered near, as if to remind the party that he was very sleepy, this young man especially took no note of his presence.

Presently he aroused himself, and rang a bell which stood on the table at his elbow.

The waiter came towards him sleepily.

"Whisky," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"A large one."

"Yes, sir."

"And make haste about it."

The waiter left the room, while the others glanced at each other significantly.

"How many is that to-night?" said one in a low voice.

"Heaven knows, I don't. He's on the drink again."

"If I'd taken half he's had, I should have to be carried to bed."

"Pity, isn't it? He's ruining his career."

"I don't know. He never shows he's been drinking. He's always at his best when he's drunk."

"He's never drunk."

"Well, you know what I mean. He can never do himself justice now, unless he's had what would make any one of us incapable."

"Yes, but that kind of thing can't last. No constitution could stand it. In time it'll destroy his nerves, and then – "

"Yes, it's a pity."

The waiter brought the young man a large measure of whisky and a bottle of soda-water. He poured a small quantity of soda into the whisky. His hand was steady and he did not seem to be in the least affected by what he had drunk.

He lifted the glass to his lips and nearly drained it. Then he sat back in the chair and closed his eyes.

"I should think he will soon be asleep, now," whispered one.

"Not he."

"It's an awful pity. Don't you think one ought to try and warn him?"

"Try it. I would not like to."

"But he's ruining his life. A fellow of such brilliance, too. Do you remember that speech he made at the Eclectic?"

"Remember! Who doesn't? You know the constituency he's candidate for? Well, the story of his adoption for that constituency by the general committee is worth telling. I don't quite know how it was, but through a misunderstanding two men were invited on the same night to come and address them with a view to adoption. Well, the other man was young Lord Telsize, an able, capable fellow, by no means a bad speaker, and as rich as a money-lending Jew. Each had to address the meeting in turn, and Telsize came first. He made a rattling speech; he voiced all their pet opinions, and every one was made to understand that if he were adopted it would not cost them a penny to fight the election. The meeting wanted to vote straight away and adopt Telsize without hearing Leicester, especially when they heard that he would contribute practically nothing to the funds. However, the chairman overruled this. He said it would not be courteous to ask a man down and not hear him speak; so they called him in. Leicester saw at a glance how things stood, and that put him on his mettle. In three minutes the meeting was at a white heat, and before half an hour was over he was unanimously invited to fight their battles. A man who was there told me that Leicester's speech was the most remarkable thing he'd ever heard."

"I don't care, he's ruining himself. The truth about him is sure to come out, and then he'll be drummed out of the place."

"I suppose Miss Blackstone refused him because she had heard about this habit of his."

"Oh, it wasn't that only. Miss Blackstone is a very religious young lady, and, as you know, Leicester is an agnostic. Not only that, but his views about marriage would not be likely to commend themselves to her. Fancy Radford Leicester being accepted by a girl like Miss Blackstone!"

They had been speaking in low tones, although they thought the young man was too much under the influence of whisky to take any notice of them, even although the sound of their voices could reach him plainly. They were greatly surprised, therefore, when he to whom they had referred as Radford Leicester rose from his chair and came close to them. He looked at them quietly, glancing first at one and then at the other. Each returned his glance, as if wondering what he would say.

"I was in doubts," he said, "as to whether I was in one of Moody and Sankey's meetings or whether some strange fate had thrown me into the midst of a Dorcas society."

"Why, old man?"

"Because at first I heard of some scheme for snatching a brand from the burning, and afterwards I heard some gossip which was as full of lies as the gossip of a Dorcas society usually is. When I opened my eyes I was a bit surprised. I found I was in the smoking-room of my club, where women are not admitted. Am I mistaken? For the plan for my salvation was essentially feminine, while the gossip was scarcely up to the level of a woman's charity meeting."

He drew a chair into the circle and sat down, each man looking rather uncomfortable as he did so.

"Don't you feel like a word of prayer?" he said mockingly. "I am rather in the humour for it. What is the process? First conviction, and then conversion, isn't it?"

There was no thickness in his voice, each word was carefully articulated. He gave no sign of drinking, if we except the peculiar look in his eyes.

"Your father is a parson, isn't he, Purvis?" he went on. "He will be pleased to know that his son is walking in his father's footsteps, while Sprague's mother is great at women's meetings. Sprague has evidently inherited his mother's gifts."

Sprague turned towards him angrily.

"Steady, steady, old man," said Leicester, with a mocking smile on his lips. "You can't deny that you assist your mother at her drawing-room meetings, neither can you deny that the story of Miss Blackstone's refusal of me was born in one of them."

"It might have been mentioned there," said Sprague, thrown off his guard.

"It originated there," said Leicester lightly.

"Why do you say that?" asked Sprague.