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“I have never heard the name. Who is he?”
“Your colleague. The other master.”
“No, I have not seen him.?
?
“_He’s_ the terror. If you can stand him, you have either the spirit ofa perfect Christian or else you have no spirit at all. A more perfectbounder never bounded.”
“But why does McCarthy stand it?”
My friend looked at me significantly through his cigarette smoke, andshrugged his shoulders.
“You will form your own conclusions about that. Mine were formed verysoon, and I never found occasion to alter them.”
“It would help me very much if you would tell me them.”
“When you see a man in his own house allowing his business to be ruined,his comfort destroyed, and his authority defied by another man in asubordinate position, and calmly submitting to it without so much as aword of protest, what conclusion do you come to?”
“That the one has a hold over the other.”
Percival Manners nodded his head.
“There you are! You’ve hit it first barrel. It seems to me that there’sno other explanation which will cover the facts. At some period in hislife the little Doctor has gone astray. _Humanum est errare._ I haveeven done it myself. But this was something serious, and the other mangot a hold of it and has never let go. That’s the truth. Blackmail is atthe bottom of it. But he had no hold over me, and there was no reasonwhy _I_ should stand his insolence, so I came away—and I very muchexpect to see you do the same.”
For some time he talked over the matter, but he always came to the sameconclusion—that I should not retain my new situation very long.
It was with no very pleasant feelings after this preparation that Ifound myself face to face with the very man of whom I had received soevil an account. Dr. McCarthy introduced us to each other in his studyon the evening of that same day immediately after my arrival at theschool.
“This is your new colleague, Mr. St. James,” said he, in his genial,courteous fashion. “I trust that you will mutually agree, and that Ishall find nothing but good feeling and sympathy beneath this roof.”
I shared the good Doctor’s hope, but my expectations of it were notincreased by the appearance of my _confrère_. He was a young,bull-necked fellow about thirty years of age, dark-eyed andblack-haired, with an exceedingly vigorous physique. I have never seen amore strongly built man, though he tended to run to fat in a way whichshowed that he was in the worst of training. His face was coarse,swollen, and brutal, with a pair of small black eyes deeply sunken inhis head. His heavy jowl, his projecting ears, and his thick bandy legsall went to make up a personality which was as formidable as it wasrepellent.
“I hear you’ve never been out before,” said he, in a rude, brusquefashion. “Well, it’s a poor life: hard work and starvation pay, asyou’ll find out for yourself.”
“But it has some compensations,” said the principal. “Surely you willallow that, Mr. St. James?”
“Has it? I never could find them. What do you call compensations?”
“Even to be in the continual presence of youth is a privilege. It hasthe effect of keeping youth in one’s own soul, for one reflectssomething of their high spirits and their keen enjoyment of life.”
“Little beasts!” cried my colleague.
“Come, come, Mr. St. James, you are too hard upon them.”
“I hate the sight of them! If I could put them and their blessedcopybooks and lexicons and slates into one bonfire I’d do it to-night.”
“This is Mr. St. James’s way of talking,” said the principal, smilingnervously as he glanced at me. “You must not take him too seriously.Now, Mr. Weld, you know where your room is, and no doubt you have yourown little arrangements to make. The sooner you make them the sooner youwill feel yourself at home.”
It seemed to me that he was only too anxious to remove me at once fromthe influence of this extraordinary colleague, and I was glad to go, forthe conversation had become embarrassing.
And so began an epoch which always seems to me as I look back to it tobe the most singular in all my experience. The school was in many waysan excellent one. Dr. Phelps McCarthy was an ideal principal. Hismethods were modern and rational. The management was all that could bedesired. And yet in the middle of this well-ordered machine thereintruded the incongruous and impossible Mr. St. James, throwingeverything into confusion. His duties were to teach English andmathematics, and how he acquitted himself of them I do not know, as ourclasses were held in separate rooms. I can answer for it, however, thatthe boys feared him and loathed him, and I know that they had goodreason to do so, for frequently my own teaching was interrupted by hisbellowings of anger, and even by the sound of his blows. Dr. McCarthyspent most of his time in his class, but it was, I suspect, to watchover the master rather than the boys, and to try to moderate hisferocious temper when it threatened to become dangerous.
It was in his bearing to the head master, however, that my colleague’sconduct was most outrageous. The first conversation which I haverecorded proved to be typical of their intercourse. He domineered overhim openly and brutally. I have heard him contradict him roughly beforethe whole school. At no time would he show him any mark of respect, andmy temper often rose within me when I saw the quiet acquiescence of theold Doctor, and his patient tolerance of this monstrous treatment. Andyet the sight of it surrounded the principal also with a certain vaguehorror in my mind, for supposing my friend’s theory to be correct—and Icould devise no better one—how black must have been the story whichcould be held over his head by this man and, by fear of its publicity,force him to undergo such humiliations. This quiet, gentle Doctor mightbe a profound hypocrite, a criminal, a forger possibly, or a poisoner.Only such a secret as this could account for the complete power whichthe young man held over him. Why else should he admit so hateful apresence into his house and so harmful an influence into his school? Whyshould he submit to degradations which could not be witnessed, far lessendured, without indignation?
And yet, if it were so, I was forced to confess that my principalcarried it off with extraordinary duplicity. Never by word or sign didhe show that the young man’s presence was distasteful to him. I haveseen him look pained, it is true, after some peculiarly outrageousexhibition, but he gave me the impression that it was always on accountof the scholars or of me, never on account of himself. He spoke to andof St. James in an indulgent fashion, smiling gently at what made myblood boil within me. In his way of looking at him and addressing him,one could see no trace of resentment, but rather a sort of timid anddeprecating good will. His company he certainly courted, and they spentmany hours together in the study and the garden.
As to my own relations with Theophilus St. James, I made up my mind fromthe beginning that I should keep my temper with him, and to thatresolution I steadfastly adhered. If Dr. McCarthy chose to permit thisdisrespect, and to condone these outrages, it was his affair and notmine. It was evident that his one wish was that there should be peacebetween us, and I felt that I could help him best by respecting thisdesire. My easiest way to do so was to avoid my colleague, and this Idid to the best of my ability. When we were thrown together I was quiet,polite, and reserved. He, on his part, showed me no ill-will, but met merather with a coarse joviality, and a rough familiarity which he meantto be ingratiating. He was insistent in his attempts to get me into hisroom at night, for the purpose of playing euchre and of drinking.
