Yes, they talked about it whenever they came together. There was Basine, the judge. He had seized Aubrey's hand and pumped it heartily when he heard of the book.
"That's the stuff. I like a man who can come back. Go to it, Aubrey."
Basine was a bounder. The way Fanny and the rest of them idolized him was disgusting. His mother-in-law--"Oh, the judge told me the most fascinating things about the situation in Washington." And then for an hour, an idiotic mumble about what the judge did, what he said, what he thought, what he hoped. Nobody ever mentioned Henrietta or the children.
As if their existence was not only unimportant but dubious. Basine was an entity. He needed no background.
Aubrey wondered why his thought turned to his brother-in-law. Whenever he felt uncomfortable, or found himself in a distressing situation, his mind usually busied itself with comment on Basine. Anything distressful that happened, no matter how remote from the judge, always seemed to remind Aubrey of the man and recall to him the fact that he was a bounder and an ass and entirely unlikeable.
He entered his home in a dejected mood. Voices attracted him. Fanny was talking to a man. He paused before the opened door.
"Oh, hello Aubrey," Fanny greeted him. She stood up. Aubrey noticed she looked pale. Her eyes seemed to follow his observation.
"Isn't it hot though? I'm almost dead. I'm awfully glad you came home.
You remember Mr. Ramsey, don't you?"
"How do you do," said Aubrey. "Yes, I think--"
"At mother's. Long ago. I'm sure you met him. He's an old friend of the family."
"How do you do, sir," Ramsey echoed, rising. The men shook hands. Aubrey stared at the dapper, high-strung figure with its flushed face and cool attire and tried to remember the man.
"If you'll pardon me," he smiled.
"Certainly, Aubrey."
"See you again, I hope," said Aubrey. Ramsey assented with a curious enthusiasm, accenting the situation uncomfortably. Fanny frowned and watched her husband walk to the stairs. As his steps died the two returned to their chairs.
"Oh it's hot," Fanny murmured. "Can't you go away till next month. I'm almost beside myself."
Her voice was low. Ramsey listened with disdain.
"And besides," she continued in a whisper, "I've given you all I can get. I haven't any more money."
"Money!" Ramsey snorted. "I'm not talking about money. I'm not asking for any." He stood up and frowned indignantly at her.
"I know, but--"
"I just dropped in for a talk."
He said this with a meaning smile and lighted a cigarette. He was very casual. She watched him helplessly.
"Oh, why beat around the bush. I'm sick of it. I can't stand it. How much do you want? I've given you three thousand. Surely that's...."
"I don't want any, thank you," he answered with mysterious sarcasm. "Not a nickle."
"Then what do you want?" Her voice was rising despite her fear of being heard. "This is the fourth time you've ... you've hounded me."
"Oh, I hound you?" Again the mysterious sarcasm.
"If you'd only tell me what you want."
He smiled with the air of a man phenomenally at ease and returned to his chair.
"Nothing. Not a thing. I just dropped in for a chat, that's all."
His eyes regarded her triumphantly. Fanny returned their gaze. He was crazy. There was something crazy about him. He had called her on the telephone the day after seeing her in the hotel with Schroder. She had gone downtown to meet him. The whole business seemed like an impossible dream in retrospect. He had whined and begged for money. He was down and out, living from hand to mouth, his friends gone, his clothes in rags.
He had known her father. She could save him. And he had never once referred to the incident in the hotel lobby. Neither had she. The conversation had been purely a needy friend and a philanthropically inclined woman. She had asked him how much he needed and he answered $1,500 would start him. A week later he came to her completely rehabilitated--an elderly looking fop swinging a cane and bristling with enthusiasms.
Another $1,500 had increased his enthusiasm. He came a third time to report that he had found employment. She barely listened. Something had happened to Ramsey.
Now as he sat smiling sarcasms at her she realized what it was. Her knowledge of the man was casual but the thing that had happened was unmistakable. He no longer wanted money from her. He was blackmailing her merely because it gave him a sense of power. They had never mentioned Schroder or the lobby incident.
She regarded him in silence and the understanding of the man slowly nauseated her. His polite and affable smiling, his cockiness and his suavity--all these were part of a pose. He called merely to see her wince and because her wincing filled him with this sense of power. And he would go on like that. But she dared not challenge him. He knew about the day with Schroder. He had never mentioned it and now he tried to pretend this his dominance over her had nothing to do with blackmail or Schroder. He tried to pretend it was because of something else--something involved and mysterious.
"Are you going to stay forever," she murmured.
"Perhaps for dinner," he answered. Fanny sighed. There was her mother-in-law--a stone faced woman with gimlet eyes. Old, ferreting eyes. She would sense something. And if they found out. She shuddered.
Her eyes implored.
"Please, Tom," she whispered. "You ... you're torturing me."
"Oh no, not at all," he answered with an idiotic cheerfulness, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips in surprise. He was like a farce actor. She stood up and came to his side. Her hands rested on his shoulder.
"Won't you leave me alone?" she whispered again. "I feel ill."
He looked at her with concern.
"Indeed," he said. "I'm awfully sorry."
He would go on like this forever. It would always grow worse. He wanted to make a victim of her. He was like a crazy man with an obsession. His suavity and politeness almost made her scream. She covered her face and wept.
"There, there," he consoled her. She had dropped into a chair and he was patting her back. "It must be the heat. The heat, don't you think? Oh well, I'll go way now. Are you going to be home Tuesday evening?"
She made no answer. Ramsey stood watching her, a smile in his eyes. As she continued to weep he appeared to grow more and more elated. A sternness entered his voice.
"Come now," he ordered her, "sit up."
She obeyed.
"It's ridiculous," he continued. She nodded helplessly. "I'll see you Tuesday evening," he added. There was a pause. Then, "There's something I'd like to discuss with you. Very important. Don't forget. Tuesday evening."
He walked out. Fanny watched him to the door. A rage came to her. He was play-acting. He was making fun of her, of her fear of exposure. Because he was crazy. He didn't want money. He wanted to bulldoze and torture her. He wanted her to think he was somebody--that's why he did it.
She stood up and watched him from the window as he walked down the street. A dapper, good-natured figure smiling with mysterious condescension upon the houses he passed. She rushed to her room and locked the door. Something would have to happen. She had not talked to Schroder about Ramsey since he left her in the cab that first day. She would ask him what to do. No, that would make it worse. He might be like Ramsey. She lay dry-eyed and pondering. The thought slowly grew in her--she would tell her brother. George would be able to figure out some way to rid her of this blackmailer. She would tell him everything and explain to him how she couldn't stand it any longer.
She lay quietly improvising her conversation with her brother. This brought a relief and she closed her eyes with a sigh.