The Complete Short Stories of Evelyn Waugh - Evelyn Waugh [249]
To my question, down such valleys of thought, his answer made a way; she had been with him; they in a taxi; Toby had seen it from the top of a bus in Regent Street.
And so, quite naturally, I went to find Hauban, whom I had not thought to seek when I had landed that morning—or was it three and a half years ago? Thus suddenly had I returned to the past. And when I found Hauban, he said:
“So you, also, are returned to England.”
Thus I knew that he too had seen Imogen and with his next words he invited me to dinner where I should meet many old friends, whom he would assemble to greet my return. But he and I and his guests knew that not for my welcome were we assembled, though no word was spoken of Imogen all the evening through.
And the thought of her was about and between us all; with such shy courtesy did we treat her, who had been Queen, for all who had loved her were gathered there and none dared speak even her name.
CONSPIRACY
TO MURDER
During the first week of term, Guy first mentioned his neighbour to me. We were sitting on my window seat looking over the quad, when I noticed slinking out of the J.C.R. a strange shambling man of middle age. He was ill-dressed and rather dirty, and he peered forward as he walked.
“That strange man,” said Guy, “has got the room opposite me.”
We decided that this would be dull for Guy, for we had often seen these strange old men before and knew that they had no interest to offer, except the dull curiosity of asking why they had come to Oxford. And they were nearly always ready to tell their story of miserly saving and the thirst for knowledge. Therefore when, a fortnight later, Guy began to talk of him again, I was considerably surprised.
“You know, he leads an incredible life; my scout told me that he has never been out to a meal or had a single man in to see him. He doesn’t know one of the other freshers and can’t find his way about Oxford. He’s never heard of half the Colleges. I think I shall go in and talk to him one evening. Come up with me.”
So one evening at about half past ten, Guy and I went across to this strange man’s room. We knocked, and getting no answer, opened the door. The room was in darkness, and we were about to go, when Guy said: “Let’s have a look at his room.”
I turned on his light and then gave a gasp of astonishment. The little man was sitting in his arm chair with his hands in his lap looking straight at us. We began to apologize, but he interrupted us.
“What do you want? I do not wish to be disturbed.”
“Our names are Guy Legge and Barnes,” I said, “we just came in to see you, but if you’re busy —” I was strangely discomforted by this man and had not yet recovered from the shock of finding him sitting there in the dark.
“It was unnecessary to come and see me. I don’t want to know you Barnes, or you Legge, or anyone else.”
And outside the door I said, “Well I’m damned. Of all the abominable men —”
But Guy took me by the arm and said, “Dick, that man scared me.”
So it began.
A few nights later I was engrossed in an essay when I heard someone beating on my oak.
“Go away, I’m busy.”
“It’s I, Guy. May I come in?”
“Oh, it’s you. Well do you mind awfully if I work tonight? I’ve got to get this essay done by eleven tomorrow.”
“Let me in, Dick. I won’t disturb you. I only wanted to know if I could come in and read in here.”
So I opened the oak and when he came into the light I saw that he was looking pale and worried.
“Thanks awfully, Dick. I hope you don’t mind my coming in. I couldn’t work in my room.”
So I returned to my essay and in two hours it was finished. I turned round and saw that Guy was not working. He was just sitting gazing into my fire.
“Well,” I said, “I’ve finished this thing and I’m going to bed.”
He roused himself, “Well, I suppose I must get back,” and then at the door, “You know, Dick, that man next door haunts me. I’ve never met a man who hated me as he does. When we meet on the stairs, he shrinks away and snarls like a