The Painted Veil. W. Somerset Maugham

to Fane. Then the Assistant Colonial Secretary, thinking himself libelled, threatened to institute proceedings. I was surprised, since in England we can put a Prime Minister on the stage or use him as the character of a novel, an Archbishop of Canterbury or a Lord Chancellor, and the tenants of these exalted offices do not turn a hair. It seemed to me strange that the temporary occupant of so insignificant a post should think himself aimed at, but in order to save trouble I changed Hong-Kong to an imaginary colony of Tching-Yen. The book had already been published when the incident arose and was recalled. A certain number of astute reviewers who had received it did not on one pretext and another return their copies. These have now acquired a bibliographical value; I think there are about sixty of them in existence, and are bought by collectors at a high price.

      I

      She gave a startled cry.

      “What’s the matter?” he asked.

      Notwithstanding the darkness of the shuttered room he saw her face on a sudden distraught with terror.

      “Some one just tried the door.”

      “Well, perhaps it was the amah, or one of the boys.”

      “They never come at this time. They know I always sleep after tiffin.”

      “Who else could it be?”

      “Walter,” she whispered, her lips trembling.

      She pointed to his shoes. He tried to put them on, but his nervousness, for her alarm was affecting him, made him clumsy, and besides, they were on the tight side. With a faint gasp of impatience she gave him a shoe-horn. She slipped into a kimono and in her bare feet went over to her dressing-table. Her hair was shingled and with a comb she had repaired its disorder before he had laced his second shoe. She handed him his coat.

      “How shall I get out?”

      “You’d better wait a bit. I’ll look out and see that it’s all right.”

      “It can’t possibly be Walter. He doesn’t leave the laboratory till five.”

      “Who is it then?”

      They spoke in whispers now. She was quaking. It occurred to him that in an emergency she would lose her head and on a sudden he felt angry with her. If it wasn’t safe why the devil had she said it was? She caught her breath and put her hand on his arm. He followed the direction of her glance. They stood facing the windows that led out on the verandah. They were shuttered and the shutters were bolted. They saw the white china knob of the handle slowly turn. They had heard no one walk along the verandah. It was terrifying to see that silent motion. A minute passed and there was no sound. Then, with the ghastliness of the supernatural, in the same stealthy, noiseless and horrifying manner, they saw the white china knob of the handle at the other window turn also. It was so frightening that Kitty, her nerves failing her, opened her mouth to scream; but, seeing what she was going to do, he swiftly put his hand over it and her cry was smothered in his fingers.

      Silence. She leaned against him, her knees shaking, and he was afraid she would faint. Frowning, his jaw set, he carried her to the bed and sat her down upon it. She was as white as the sheet and notwithstanding his tan his cheeks were pale too. He stood by her side looking with fascinated gaze at the china knob. They did not speak. Then he saw that she was crying.

      “For God’s sake don’t do that,” he whispered irritably. “If we’re in for it we’re in for it. We shall just have to brazen it out.”

      She looked for her handkerchief and knowing what she wanted he gave her her bag.

      “Where’s your topee?”

      “I left it downstairs.”

      “Oh, my God!”

      “I say, you must pull yourself together. It’s a hundred to one it wasn’t Walter. Why on earth should he come back at this hour? He never does come home in the middle of the day, does he?”

      “Never.”

      “I’ll bet you anything you like it was the amah.”

      She gave him the shadow of a smile. His rich, caressing voice reassured her and she took his hand and affectionately pressed it. He gave her a moment to collect herself.

      “Look here, we can’t stay here for ever,” he said then. “Do you feel up to going out on the verandah and having a look?”

      “I don’t think I can stand.”

      “Have you got any brandy in here?”

      She shook her head. A frown for an instant darkened his brow, he was growing impatient, he did not quite know what to do. Suddenly she clutched his hand more tightly.

      “Suppose he’s waiting there?”

      He forced his lips to smile and his voice retained the gentle, persuasive tone the effect of which he was so fully conscious of.

      “That’s not very likely. Have a little pluck, Kitty. How can it possibly be your husband? If he’d come in and seen a strange topee in the hall and come upstairs and found your room locked, surely he would have made some sort of row. It must have been one of the servants. Only a Chinese would turn a handle in that way.”

      She did feel more herself now.

      “It’s not very pleasant even if it was only the amah.”

      “She can be squared and if necessary I’ll put the fear of God into her. There are not many advantages in being a government official, but you may as well get what you can out of it.”

      He must be right. She stood up and turning to him stretched out her arms: he took her in his and kissed her on the lips. It was such rapture that it was pain. She adored him. He released her and she went to the window. She slid back the bolt and opening the shutter a little looked out. There was not a soul. She slipped on to the verandah, looked into her husband’s dressing-room and then into her own sitting-room. Both were empty. She went back to the bedroom and beckoned to him.

      “Nobody.”

      “I believe the whole thing was an optical delusion.”

      “Don’t laugh. I was terrified. Go into my sitting-room and sit down. I’ll put on my stockings and some shoes.”

      II

      He did as she bade and in five minutes she joined him. He was smoking a cigarette.

      “I say, could I have a brandy and soda?”

      “Yes, I’ll ring.”

      “I don’t think it would hurt you by the look of things.”

      They waited in silence for the boy to answer. She gave the order.

      “Ring up the laboratory and ask if Walter is there,” she said then. “They won’t know your voice.”

      He took up the receiver and asked for the number. He inquired whether Dr. Fane was in. He put down the receiver.

      “He hasn’t been in since tiffin,” he told her. “Ask the boy whether he has been here.”

      “I daren’t. It’ll look so funny if he has and I didn’t see him.”

      The boy brought the drinks and Townsend helped himself. When he offered her some she shook her head.

      “What’s to be done if it was Walter?” she asked.

      “Perhaps he wouldn’t care.”

      “Walter?”

      Her tone was incredulous.

      “It’s always struck me he was rather shy. Some men can’t bear scenes, you know. He’s got sense enough to know that there’s nothing to be gained by making a scandal. I don’t believe for a minute it was Walter, but even if it was my impression