The Secret Journey (62 page)

She wore her long blue-serge coat, her black, untrimmed straw hat, and a wisp of hair stuck out from underneath it. She wore no gloves.

‘
Perhaps
,' said Daniel Corkran, laying emphasis upon the word, ‘perhaps you had better come in. I'm not sure that she'll see you, of course. Yes, all things have taken a new course, Mrs. Fury. However, please step inside. I happen to be busy myself at the moment. This way, Mrs.—er—er,' he stammered. ‘This way,' and the woman followed him down the half-dark and stuffy hall, and into the back sitting-room, with its large cumbersome furniture, and to a chair by the fireless grate.

The woman sat down, clasped her hands in her lap, and glancing at Mr. Corkran, said to herself, ‘I used to think I'd never recognize the Devil if I met him! Now I know him.' She bent down and partly unlaced each shoe to ease her feet. When she looked up again the door was closed, Mr. Corkran had gone. She was alone. She stood up, looked at herself in the looking-glass over the mantelshelf, and taking a handkerchief from her pocket wiped some black smuts from her nose. Then she sat down again, her eyes taking in the contents of the room.

‘Oh, well! I'm here,' she said.

Mr. Corkran had gone back to the kitchen. As he prepared the supper he kept saying to himself, ‘How ashamed she looked this evening! H'm! And now she sees I knew her little game all along. And it's come to an end! That young client was wiser than I thought. Still—I shan't worry any more. We're still here—still together—one—but I'll wait. It's worth waiting for. Just imagine this crew from Hatfields being able to play ducks and drakes with her like that! Ha! ha! I was right all along. Nothing like passion for forcing issues.'

He buttered half a dozen crackers, then made tea. He took Mrs. Ragner's into the dining-room. As he put the tray on the table and readjusted the tea-cosy, his eyes fell upon the pile of papers lying on the table.

‘I really believe that if she had gone on like that—making a fool of herself with that young swine—yes, I really believe he would have tried to steal those papers. Thank heaven she's come to her senses! Yes, I am very happy. She's her own old self again. She's left off wearing those flimsy dresses, and even stopped mooning about the place like a—I don't know what to call it. Crazy! That's what she was.'

As he closed the door he heard a sound on the stairs. Mrs. Ragner was coming down, slowly, leisurely, and looking very pleased with herself. She was wearing her old dress—the black velvet one; she wore her necklace that now dangled violently on her bosom, and in her hair was a brilliant, flashing comb.

‘Back in her natural skin,' said Daniel Corkran to himself, and stood there until she reached the hall. He said not a word—just looked at her with a sort of dumb admiration. Then he smiled and went back to his kitchen. He sat down, propped his book against the sugar-basin, and in a few minutes he was carried away to follow the fortunes of the hero. The woman in the back sitting-room was quite forgotten. Absent-mindedly he went on stirring his tea. Absorption grew.

Anna Ragner sat down to her own cup of tea. She glanced occasionally at the pile of papers on the desk.

‘I had better look through these. I'm afraid I've let this get all tangled up. But I must get it straight.' She pressed an electric bell in the wall, and sat waiting for an answer. It soon came in the person of Corkran.

‘You showed that woman into the back room?' she asked.

‘Yes, mam! The woman is in the little sitting-room.'

‘Are you having your tea?' She looked at the bit of cracker crumb on his mouth.

‘Yes, mam! Was there anything you wanted?' He bent over the table.

‘Nothing, Corkran. You can go back and finish your tea. As a matter of fact, I won't require you further this evening. You can have a holiday, Corkran. See to the hot water and the bottles. That is all. Good-night, Corkran.'

‘Good-night, mam! Thank you, mam.' Daniel Corkran gave a sort of stiff bow of the head and left the room. Anna Ragner continued her supper. At the same time she began picking up first one paper, then another.

‘There are signatures to seven of these forms,'

Well, there was no hurry. No hurry at all. At the end of the table lay the black ledger. Smiling, she kept looking at the large book. She was enjoying her supper.

Just an hour later she pushed back the tray, picked up the papers, put them inside the large ledger, and left the room. She shut the door with a loud bang that resounded all over the house. Then she went into the sitting-room. The woman was still sitting in the chair.

‘Good-evening.'

Mrs. Fury made no reply.

‘I'm sorry to have kept you so long,' said Mrs. Ragner, smiling in the most ingratiating way. ‘Would you please draw that chair of yours towards the table? There! That's it. Now please sit down.'

The two women now sat facing each other. Mrs. Fury took an envelope from her pocket, emptied the money from it, and placed it on the table in front of the moneylender. From her other pocket she took a small red pass-book, and placed this next to the money. Anna Ragner stared first at the money and then at the tall, thin woman sitting so erect in the arm-chair.

‘I don't understand,' she said, overcoming her surprise.

‘It is difficult for me to get here,' said Mrs. Fury. ‘At least, it was. But now that my invalid father has gone back to Ireland it is a little more convenient, though I still have a lot to do.'

Mrs. Ragner forced a smile.

‘Of course,' she said. ‘Of course—but I don't quite understand. Is this a full settlement you are offering me?' and she began counting the money. She pushed it aside, and then examined the pass-book.

‘All this is beyond me, woman. What is the meaning of this? Please explain yourself. I simply don't understand.'

‘I wish you could have avoided keeping me waiting so long, Mrs. Ragner,' said Mrs. Fury. ‘I have such a lot to do. Fortunately I was able to come with the payment myself.'

‘Are you trying to make a fool of me? Coming here at this time of evening, and interrupting people at their meals, who are compelled to remember with each bite they eat that they must be up and attend to the interrupter? You are not the only person who has much to do. But will you kindly explain how you come to bring me a mere thirty-two shillings—even there it's three shillings short, but that isn't the point. I thought you had come to pay the whole amount. A full settlement, in fact.'

‘What?' said Mrs. Fury, her face masked by sheer bewilderment, whilst a feeling of sickness seized her. ‘What, Mrs. Ragner? I pay you weekly, don't I? And haven't I brought it now?'

‘Yes, but this is hardly the answer to my note, which I have no doubt you got, and which my Mr. Corkran delivered to you a short time ago. You have had, now I come to think of it, you have had two or three of these notes. It is true that the weekly payments have been made. True enough. Either by your son or by you. I've often wondered, Mrs. Fury, why you suddenly decided to send my money, and not bring it up yourself. Even allowing for your old father. After all, you are the borrower, aren't you, and naturally, I do like to see the borrower—now and again. But the money here.' She pushed it slowly back across the table, and then flung the pass-book after it. ‘This, I'm afraid, I cannot accept, Mrs. Fury. How was it you did not get my note? Perhaps I had better tell you, now you are here, why I have decided, after careful consideration, to close the account forthwith. You are not a satisfactory person. I am unused to dealing with people like you. Moreover, I can see now it is none too good for my business. But to go even further. You are an indifferent person, Mrs. Fury, if I may say so. An indifferent person. You are not above taking my money, though you are too proud to acknowledge its help. I have never dealt with a woman like you before—and do not wish to do so again. People must be humble. You are not. On the contrary, you send your son up here time and time again—you never appear yourself, and you make every kind of excuse.

‘Why do you think I scratched out Mr. Kilkey's signature? Because I had kinder feelings for him? Oh no! Because I found out after experience that I'm better free of such people. And now I wish to settle with you! I suppose you burnt the note like you burnt the others! You even refuse to see Mr. Corkran when he calls. Who are you, may I ask? Other people open their doors to him. He's not an ogre, but a business man. As for keeping you waiting, I ought to apologize. I'm sorry you have had to come all the way here. It's a pity you should have to recognize that you owe me money at all. I've been as fair to you as anybody else. And you were very glad indeed to be able to get my money. Just think of the months after the big strike, and the illnesses, and the accident to your son! When you pleaded here for money, did I refuse you? No. But you are one of those persons who feel they cannot be sullied at all, Mrs. Fury, not even by my kindness. However, I am not going on talking. I sent you a note. In that note I said I required a full settlement of the account. That I want by to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock. Pick up the money. You insult me by bringing it.'

‘But, Mrs. Ragner, please, for Christ's sake! I am humble. I do understand. I'm not proud. I've had no note.'

‘Then you must ask your son for it. He will be well able to supply it. If there has been a misunderstanding you can blame your son for it, and be glad too that you have somebody at hand you can blame. Now I must go. I have work to do as well as you, Mrs. Fury! People are not the beautiful, kind things you make them out to be. I have to be continually on my guard against them. Some of them are wretches—like your son.

‘Corkran! Corkran!' Mrs. Ragner seemed to grow taller as she stood there. She did not look at this woman. In fact, she didn't see her at all. Mrs. Fury had just grown smaller and smaller. Corkran came hurrying in.

‘Yes, mam?'

‘Please show this woman out!' she said, and turned to go. But any movement on her part was now frustrated by Mrs. Fury, who suddenly flung her arms around the woman's waist.

‘You can't! You can't! You don't understand. Please! I'll see into this. I'll get the note from my son. I'll settle the matter. I'll bring you the payment next week as usual, I swear—oh, Mrs. Ragner.' And as she held the stout woman in a vice-like grip she looked down into her face. A round face, a thick, sensual mouth, a pair of piercing eyes—a dangerous person. And yet, somehow—a weak, helpless, despicable person.

Mr. Corkran was speaking. ‘This way, please! This way!' And he gripped the woman's hands and released her grip. ‘You mustn't do a thing like that,' he said, as though he were scolding some stubborn child. ‘Besides, we could take action against you.'

‘Won't you listen to me?' she shouted. ‘Won't you listen to me? Aren't you human at all? For Christ's sake!'

‘The matter is closed,' replied Mrs. Ragner. ‘You must settle in the morning. I am as human as you are—and if you have the right to shout, to stamp your way upon my premises, I have also the right to ask for an immediate payment.'

She left the room and went upstairs. She heard the woman say, ‘You're a pair of beasts. Beasts.'

She stood on top of the stairs listening. Corkran was explaining.

‘You see, Mrs. Ragner sent two notes down by your son. You recall that I called on you and you signed for a renewal of your loan. That was not granted. Your account wouldn't allow of it. Then the notes were sent. This matter should have been closed a fortnight ago. Why do you call us beasts, Mrs. Fury? On the contrary, we are very considerate people. For a month now, Mrs. Ragner has waited for you to come here and settle the matter. I left a note with your son. He must have it somewhere—though he might have burnt it, who knows? Your son seems to know as much about the matter as you do. Good-night.'

The door slammed. Mrs. Ragner had her bath and retired to her private room. Mr. Corkran went on with his book.

Meanwhile Mrs. Fury, the money and the book still in her hand, was running down the Instone Road. One word kept coming to her lips:

‘Disgraced! Disgraced!'

A quarter of an hour later she was hammering at the Kilkeys' door. She was conscious of only one thing—the money, now hot in her tightly clenched hand. Mr. Kilkey himself opened the door to her.

‘Mrs. Fury!' he exclaimed. ‘Mrs.—Fury,' and he caught her arm. ‘Do come in! For heaven's sake! What is wrong? Here, sit down. Try to calm yourself. Wait. I'll get you something.' And still dumbfounded by the dramatic appearance of his mother-in-law, he dashed into the back kitchen and filled a glass with water. Hurrying back he sat down beside her.

‘Mrs. Fury,' he said. ‘You're crying—you're beside yourself. Has something happened to your father?'

‘No! No!' she said, with sudden fierceness. ‘I'm only disgraced, that's all. Disgraced.'

Mr. Joseph Kilkey could not take his eyes off the woman. Was this the same person who, only a few nights ago, had got up and sung that old Irish song?'

‘Mrs. Fury,' he said, ‘tell me what has happened. Do try to control yourself. You'll be ill.'

‘Everything's happened,' she said, and jumping up began walking up and down the kitchen. The child in the cradle began to cry. Mr. Kilkey dragged the cradle near to him and began to rock it. What had he been doing, what had he been thinking of before this woman knocked? Oh yes! He had been on the point of asking the woman next door to look after Dermod. The child cried louder. This excited, restless person walking up and down the kitchen had disturbed him.

‘Oh, blast it!' exclaimed Mr. Kilkey, and he took the child on his knee. He got up, still holding the child in his arms.

‘Mrs. Fury,' he said, ‘you walk up and down my kitchen like somebody who has taken leave of their senses. Can't you say what is wrong? I'll do what I can. Really I will—you're only making things worse carrying on like this.'