pgw.uneasymoney-第3部分

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all　the　ways　in　which　he　could　have　answered　Claire's　question　he　chose　the　worst。
　'Erwell；'　he　said；　'_noblesse　oblige_；　don't　you　know；　what？'
　For　a　moment　Claire　did　not　speak。　Then　she　looked　at　her　watch　and　got　up。
　'I　must　be　going；'　she　said；　coldly。
　'But　you　haven't　had　your　coffee　yet。'
　'I　don't　want　any　coffee。'
　'What's　the　matter；　dear？'
　'Nothing　is　the　matter。　I　have　to　go　home　and　pack。　I'm　going　to　Southampton　this　afternoon。'
　She　began　to　move　towards　the　door。　Lord　Dawlish；　anxious　to　follow；　was　detained　by　the　fact　that　he　had　not　yet　paid　the　bill。　The　production　and　settling　of　this　took　time；　and　when　finally　he　turned　in　search　of　Claire　she　was　nowhere　visible。
　Bounding　upstairs　on　the　swift　feet　of　love；　he　reached　the　street。　She　had　gone。
　
　2
　A　grey　sadness　surged　over　Bill　Dawlish。　The　sun　hid　itself　behind　a　cloud；　the　sky　took　on　a　leaden　hue；　and　a　chill　wind　blew　through　the　world。　He　scanned　Shaftesbury　Avenue　with　a　jaundiced　eye；　and　thought　that　he　had　never　seen　a　beastlier　thoroughfare。　Piccadilly；　however；　into　which　he　shortly　dragged　himself；　was　even　worse。　It　was　full　of　men　and　women　and　other　depressing　things。
　He　pitied　himself　profoundly。　It　was　a　rotten　world　to　live　in；　this；　where　a　fellow　couldn't　say　_noblesse　oblige_　without　upsetting　the　universe。　Why　shouldn't　a　fellow　say　_noblesse　oblige？_　Why？　At　this　juncture　Lord　Dawlish　walked　into　a　lamp…post。
　The　shock　changed　his　mood。　Gloom　still　obsessed　him；　but　blended　now　with　remorse。　He　began　to　look　at　the　matter　from　Claire's　viewpoint；　and　his　pity　switched　from　himself　to　her。　In　the　first　place；　the　poor　girl　had　rather　a　rotten　time。　Could　she　be　blamed　for　wanting　him　to　make　money？　No。　Yet　whenever　she　made　suggestions　as　to　how　the　thing　was　to　be　done；　he　snubbed　her　by　saying　_noblesse　oblige_。　Naturally　a　refined　and　sensitive　young　girl　objected　to　having　things　like　_noblesse　oblige_　said　to　her。　Where　was　the　sense　in　saying　_noblesse　oblige？_　Such　a　confoundedly　silly　thing　to　say。　Only　a　perfect　ass　would　spend　his　time　rushing　about　the　place　saying　_noblesse　oblige_　to　people。
　'By　Jove！'　Lord　Dawlish　stopped　in　his　stride。　He　disentangled　himself　from　a　pedestrian　who　had　rammed　him　on　the　back。　'I'll　do　it！'
　He　hailed　a　passing　taxi　and　directed　the　driver　to　make　for　the　Pen　and　Ink　Club。
　The　decision　at　which　Bill　had　arrived　with　such　dramatic　suddenness　in　the　middle　of　Piccadilly　was　the　same　at　which　some　centuries　earlier　Columbus　had　arrived　in　the　privacy　of　his　home。
　'Hang　it！'　said　Bill　to　himself　in　the　cab；　'I'll　go　to　America！'　The　exact　words　probably　which　Columbus　had　used；　talking　the　thing　over　with　his　wife。
　Bill's　knowledge　of　the　great　republic　across　the　sea　was　at　this　period　of　his　life　a　little　sketchy。　He　knew　that　there　had　been　unpleasantness　between　England　and　the　United　States　in　seventeen…something　and　again　in　eighteen…something；　but　that　things　had　eventually　been　straightened　out　by　Miss　Edna　May　and　her　fellow　missionaries　of　the　Belle　of　New　York　pany；　since　which　time　there　had　been　no　more　trouble。　Of　American　cocktails　he　had　a　fair　working　knowledge；　and　he　appreciated　ragtime。　But　of　the　other　great　American　institutions　he　was　pletely　ignorant。
　He　was　on　his　way　now　to　see　Gates。　Gates　was　a　paratively　recent　addition　to　his　list　of　friends；　a　New　York　newspaperman　who　had　e　to　England　a　few　months　before　to　act　as　his　paper's　London　correspondent。　He　was　generally　to　be　found　at　the　Pen　and　Ink　Club；　an　institution　affiliated　with　the　New　York　Players；　of　which　he　was　a　member。
　Gates　was　in。　He　had　just　finished　lunch。
　'What's　the　trouble；　Bill？'　he　inquired；　when　he　had　deposited　his　lordship　in　a　corner　of　the　reading…room；　which　he　had　selected　because　silence　was　pulsory　there；　thus　rendering　it　possible　for　two　men　to　hear　each　other　speak。　'What　brings　you　charging　in　here　looking　like　the　Soul's　Awakening？'
　'I've　had　an　idea；　old　man。'
　'Proceed。　Continue。'
　'Oh！　Well；　you　remember　what　you　were　saying　about　America？'
　'What　was　I　saying　about　America？'
　'The　other　day；　don't　you　remember？　What　a　lot　of　money　there　was　to　be　made　there　and　so　forth。'
　'Well？'
　'I'm　going　there。'
　'To　America？'
　'Yes。'
　'To　make　money？'
　'Rather。'
　Gates　noddedsadly；　it　seemed　to　Bill。　He　was　rather　a　melancholy　young　man；　with　a　long　face　not　unlike　a　pessimistic　horse。
　'Gosh！'　he　said。
　Bill　felt　a　little　damped。　By　no　mental　juggling　could　he　construe　'Gosh！'　into　an　expression　of　enthusiastic　approbation。
　Gates　looked　at　Bill　curiously。　'What's　the　idea？'　he　said。　'I　could　have　understood　it　if　you　had　told　me　that　you　were　going　to　New　York　for　pleasure；　instructing　your　man　Willoughby　to　see　that　the　trunks　were　jolly　well　packed　and　wiring　to　the　skipper　of　your　yacht　to　meet　you　at　Liverpool。　But　you　seem　to　have　sordid　motives。　You　talk　about　making　money。　What　do　you　want　with　more　money？'
　'Why；　I'm　devilish　hard　up。'
　'Tenantry　a　bit　slack　with　the　rent？'　said　Gates　sympathetically。
　Bill　laughed。
　'My　dear　chap；　I　don't　know　what　on　earth　you're　talking　about。　How　much　money　do　you　think　I've　got？　Four　hundred　pounds　a　year；　and　no　prospect　of　ever　making　more　unless　I　sweat　for　it。'
　'What！　I　always　thought　you　were　rolling　in　money。'
　'What　gave　you　that　idea？'
　'You　have　a　prosperous　look。　It's　a　funny　thing　about　England。　I've　known　you　four　months；　and　I　know　men　who　know　you；　but　I've　never　heard　a　word　about　your　finances。　In　New　York　we　all　wear　labels；　stating　our　ines　and　prospects　in　clear　lettering。　Well；　if　it's　like　that　it's　different；　of　course。　There　certainly　is　more　money　to　be　made　in　America　than　here。　I　don't　quite　see　what　you　think　you're　going　to　do　when　you　get　there；　but　that's　up　to　you。
　'There's　no　harm　in　giving　the　city　a　trial。　Anyway；　I　can　give　you　a　letter　or　two　that　might　help。'
　'That's　awfully　good　of　you。'
　'You　won't　mind　my　alluding　to　you　as　my　friend　William　Smith？'　　'William　Smith？'
　'You　can't　travel　under　your　own　name　if　you　are　really　serious　about　getting　a　job。　Mind　you；　if　my　letters　lead　to　anything　it　will　probably　be　a　situation　as　an　earnest　bill…clerk　or　an　effervescent　office…boy；　for　Rockefeller　and　Carnegie　and　that　lot　have　swiped　all　the　soft　jobs。　But　if　you　go　over　as　Lord　Dawlish　you　won't　even　get　that。　Lords　are　popular　socially　in　America；　but　are　not　used　to　any　great　extent　in　the　office。　If　you　try　to　break　in　under　your　right　name　you'll　get　the　glad　hand　and　be　asked　to　stay　here　and　there　and　play　a　good　deal　of　golf　and　dance　quite　a　lot；　but　you　won't　get　a　job。　A　gentle　smile　will　greet　all　your　pleadings　that　you　be　allowed　to　e　in　and　save　the　firm。'
　'I　see。'
　'We　may　look　on　Smith　as　a　necessity。'
　'Do　you　know；　I'm　not　frightfully　keen　on　the　name　Smith。　Wouldn't　something　else　do？'
　'Sure。　We　aim　to　please。　How　would　Jones　suit　you？'
　'The　trouble　is；　you　know；　that　if　I　took　a　name　I　wasn't　used　to　I　might　forget　it。'
　'If　you've　the　sort　of　mind　that　would　forget　Jones　I　doubt　if　ever　you'll　be　a　captain　of　industry。'
　'Why　not　Chalmers？'
　'You　think　it　easier　to　memorize　than　Jones？'
　'It　used　to　be　my　name；　you　see；　before　I　got　the　title。'　　'I　see。　All　right。　Chalmers　then。　When　do　you　think　of　starting？'
　'To…morrow。'
　'You　aren't　losing　much　time。　By　the　way；　as　you're　going　to　New　York　you　might　as　well　use　my　flat。'
　'It's　awfully　good　of　you。'
　'Not　a　bit。　You　would　be　doing　me　a　favour。　I　had　to　leave　at　a　moment's　notice；　and　I　want　to　know　what's　been　happening　to　the　place。　I　left　some　Japanese　prints　there；　and　my　favourite　nightmare　is　that　someone　has　broken　in　and　sneaked　them。　Write　down　the　addressForty…blank　East　Twenty…seventh　Street。　I'll　send　you　the　key　to　Brown's　to…night　with　those　letters。'
　Bill　walked　up　the　Strand；　glowing　with　energy。　He　made　his　way　to　Cockspur　Street　to　buy　his　ticket　for　New　York。　This　done；　he　set　out　to　Brown's　to　arrange　with　the　mittee　the　details　of　his　departure。
　He　reached　Brown's　at　twenty　minutes　past　two　and　left　it　again　at　twenty…three　minutes　past；　for；　directly　he　entered；　the　hall　porter　had　handed　him　a　telephone　message。　The　telephone　attendants　at　London　clubs　are　masters　of　suggestive　brevity。　The　one　in　the　basement　of　Brown's　had　written　on　Bill's　slip　of　paper　the　words：　'1　p。m。　Will　Lord　Dawlish　as　soon　as　possible　call　upon　Mr　Gerald　Nichols　at　his　office？'　To　this　was　appended　a　message　consisting　of　two　words：　'Good　news。'
　It　was　stimulating。　The　probability　was　that　all　Jerry　Nichols　wanted　to　tell　him　was　that　he　had　received　stable　information　about　some　horse　or　had　been　given　a　box　for　the　Empire；　but　for　all　that　it　was　stimulating。
　Bill　looked　at　his　watch。　He　could　spare　half　an　hour。　He　set　out　at　once　for　the　offices　of　the　eminent　law　firm　of　Nichols；　Nichols；　Nichols；　and　Nichols；　of　which　aggregation　of　Nicholses　his　friend　Jerry　was　the　last　and　smallest。
　
　3
　On　a　west…bound　omnibus　Claire　Fenwick　sat　and　raged　silently　in　the　June　sunshine。　She　was　furious。　What　right　had　Lord　Dawlish　to　look　down　his　nose　and　murmur　'_Noblesse　oblige_'　when　she　asked　him　a　question；　as　if　she　had　suggested　that　he　should　mit　some　crime？　It　was　the　patronizing　way　he　had　said　it　that　infuriated　her；　as　if　he　were　a　superior　being　of　some　kind；　governed　by　codes　which　she　could　not　be　expected　to　understand。　Everybody　nowadays　did　the　sort　of　things　she　suggested；　so　what　was　the　good　of　looking　shocked　and　saying　'_Noblesse　oblige_'？
　The　omnibus　rolled　on　towards　West　Kensington。　Claire　hated　the　place　with　the　bitter　hate　of　one　who　had　read　society　novels；　and　yearned　for　Grosvenor　Square　and　butlers　and　a　general　atmosphere　of　soft　cushions　and　pink…shaded　lights　and　maids　to　do　one's　hair。　She　hated　the　cheap　furniture　of　the　little　parlour；　the　penetrating　contralto　of　the　cook　singing　hymns　in　the　kitchen；　and　the　ubiquitousness　of　her　small　brother。　He　was　only　ten；　and　small　for　his　age；　yet　he　appeared　to　have　the　power　of　being　in　two　rooms　at　the　same　time　while　making　a　nerve…racking　noise　in　another。
　It　was　Percy　who　greeted　her　to…day　as　she　entered　the　flat。
　'Halloa；　Claire！　I　say；　Claire；　there's　a　letter　for　you。　It　came　by　the　second　post。　I　say；　Claire；　it's　got　an　American　stamp　on　it。　Can　I　have　it；　Claire？　I　haven't　got　one　in　my　collection。'
　His　sister　regarded　him　broodingly。　'For　goodness'　sake　don't　bellow　like　that！'　she　said。　'Of　course；　you　can　have　the　stamp。　I　don't　want　it。　Where　is　the　letter？'
　Claire　took　the　envelope　from　him；　extracted　the　letter；　and　handed　back　the　envelope。　Percy　vanished　into　the　dining…room　with　a　shattering　squeal　of　pleasure。　　A　voice　spoke　from　behind　a　half…opened　door
　'Is　that　you；　Claire？'
　'Yes；　mother；　I've　e　back　to　pack。　They　want　me　to　go　to　Southampton　to…night　to　take　up　Claudia　Winslow's　part。'
　'What　train　are　you　catching？'
　'The　three…fifteen。'
　'You　will　have　to　hurry。'
　'I'm　going　to　hurry；'　said　Claire；　clenching　her　fists　as　two　simultaneous　bursts　of　song；　in　different　keys　and　varying　tempos；　proceeded　from　the　dining…room　and　kitchen。　A　girl　has　to　be