Soames had sudden insight. The fellow's professional zeal was stirred:
'Greatest triumph of my career; got a man his divorce through a visit to
his own wife's bedroom! Something to talk of there, when I retire!' And
for one wild moment he thought: 'Why not?' After all, hundreds of men of
medium height had small feet and a guilty look!
"I'm not authorised to take any risk!" he said shortly.
Mr. Polteed looked up.
"Pity," he said, "quite a pity! That other affair seemed very costive."
Soames rose.
"Never mind that. Please watch 47, and take care not to find a mare's
nest. Good-morning!"
Mr. Polteed's eye glinted at the words 'mare's nest!'
"Very good. You shall be kept informed."
And Soames was alone again. The spidery, dirty, ridiculous business!
Laying his arms on the table, he leaned his forehead on them. Full ten
minutes he rested thus, till a managing clerk roused him with the draft
prospectus of a new issue of shares, very desirable, in Manifold and
Topping's. That afternoon he left work early and made his way to the
Restaurant Bretagne. Only Madame Lamotte was in. Would Monsieur have tea
with her?
Soames bowed.
When they were seated at right angles to each other in the little room,
he said abruptly:
"I want a talk with you, Madame."
The quick lift of her clear brown eyes told him that she had long
expected such words.
"I have to ask you something first: That young doctor--what's his name?
Is there anything between him and Annette?"
Her whole personality had become, as it were, like jet--clear-cut,
black, hard, shining.
"Annette is young," she said; "so is monsieur le docteur. Between young
people things move quickly; but Annette is a good daughter. Ah! what a
jewel of a nature!"
The least little smile twisted Soames' lips.
"Nothing definite, then?"
"But definite--no, indeed! The young man is veree nice, but--what would
you? There is no money at present."
She raised her willow-patterned tea-cup; Soames did the same. Their eyes
met.
"I am a married man," he said, "living apart from my wife for many
years. I am seeking to divorce her."
Madame Lamotte put down her cup. Indeed! What tragic things there were!
The entire absence of sentiment in her inspired a queer species of
contempt in Soames.
"I am a rich man," he added, fully conscious that the remark was not
in good taste. "It is useless to say more at present, but I think you
understand."
Madame's eyes, so open that the whites showed above them, looked at him
very straight.
"Ah! ca--mais nous avons le temps!" was all she said. "Another little
cup?" Soames refused, and, taking his leave, walked westward.