CHAPTER XII:  GEORGE FAILS TO FIND MY FATHER, WHEREON YRAM CAUTIONS THE PROFESSORS

On the morning after the interview with her son described in a foregoing chapter, Yram told her husband what she had gathered from the Professors, and said that she was expecting Higgs every moment, inasmuch as she was confident that George would soon find him.

“Do what you like, my dear,” said the Mayor.  “I shall keep out of the way, for you will manage him better without me.  You know what I think of you.”

He then went unconcernedly to his breakfast, at which the Professors found him somewhat taciturn.  Indeed they set him down as one of the dullest and most uninteresting people they had ever met.

When George returned and told his mother that though he had at last found the inn at which my father had slept, my father had left and could not be traced, she was disconcerted, but after a few minutes she said—­

“He will come back here for the dedication, but there will be such crowds that we may not see him till he is inside the temple, and it will save trouble if we can lay hold on him sooner.  Therefore, ride either to Clearwater or Fairmead, and see if you can find him.  Try Fairmead first; it is more out of the way.  If you cannot hear of him there, come back, get another horse, and try Clearwater.  If you fail here too, we must give him up, and look out for him in the temple to-morrow morning.”

“Are you going to say anything to the Professors?”

“Not if you can bring Higgs here before night-fall.  If you cannot do this I must talk it over with my husband; I shall have some hours in which to make up my mind.  Now go—­the sooner the better.”

It was nearly eleven, and in a few minutes George was on his way.  By noon he was at Fairmead, where he tried all the inns in vain for news of a person answering the description of my father—­for not knowing what name my father might choose to give, he could trust only to description.  He concluded that since my father could not be heard of in Fairmead by one o’clock (as it nearly was by the time he had been round all the inns) he must have gone somewhere else; he therefore rode back to Sunch’ston, made a hasty lunch, got a fresh horse, and rode to Clearwater, where he met with no better success.  At all the inns both at Fairmead and Clearwater he left word that if the person he had described came later in the day, he was to be told that the Mayoress particularly begged him to return at once to Sunch’ston, and come to the Mayor’s house.

Now all the time that George was at Fairmead my father was inside the Musical Bank, which he had entered before going to any inn.  Here he had been sitting for nearly a couple of hours, resting, dreaming, and reading Bishop Gurgoyle’s pamphlet.  If he had left the Bank five minutes earlier, he would probably have been seen by George in the main street of Fairmead—­as he found out on reaching the inn which he selected and ordering dinner.

He had hardly got inside the house before the waiter told him that young Mr. Strong, the Ranger from Sunch’ston, had been enquiring for him and had left a message for him, which was duly delivered.

My father, though in reality somewhat disquieted, showed no uneasiness, and said how sorry he was to have missed seeing Mr. Strong.  “But,” he added, “it does not much matter; I need not go back this afternoon, for I shall be at Sunch’ston to-morrow morning and will go straight to the Mayor’s.”

He had no suspicion that he was discovered, but he was a good deal puzzled.  Presently he inclined to the opinion that George, still believing him to be Professor Panky, had wanted to invite him to the banquet on the following day—­for he had no idea that Hanky and Panky were staying with the Mayor and Mayoress.  Or perhaps the Mayor and his wife did not like so distinguished a man’s having been unable to find a lodging in Sunch’ston, and wanted him to stay with them.  Ill satisfied as he was with any theory he could form, he nevertheless reflected that he could not do better than stay where he was for the night, inasmuch as no one would be likely to look for him a second time at Fairmead.  He therefore ordered his room at once.

It was nearly seven before George got back to Sunch’ston.  In the meantime Yram and the Mayor had considered the question whether anything was to be said to the Professors or no.  They were confident that my father would not commit himself—­why, indeed, should he have dyed his hair and otherwise disguised himself, if he had not intended to remain undiscovered?  Oh no; the probability was that if nothing was said to the Professors now, nothing need ever be said, for my father might be escorted back to the statues by George on the Sunday evening and be told that he was not to return.  Moreover, even though something untoward were to happen after all, the Professors would have no reason for thinking that their hostess had known of the Sunchild’s being in Sunch’ston.

On the other hand, they were her guests, and it would not be handsome to keep Hanky, at any rate, in the dark, when the knowledge that the Sunchild was listening to every word he said might make him modify his sermon not a little.  It might or it might not, but that was a matter for him, not her.  The only question for her was whether or no it would be sharp practice to know what she knew and say nothing about it.  Her husband hated finesse as much as she did, and they settled it that though the question was a nice one, the more proper thing to do would be to tell the Professors what it might so possibly concern one or both of them to know.

On George’s return without news of my father, they found he thought just as they did; so it was arranged that they should let the Professors dine in peace, but tell them about the Sunchild’s being again in Erewhon as soon as dinner was over.

“Happily,” said George, “they will do no harm.  They will wish Higgs’s presence to remain unknown as much as we do, and they will be glad that he should be got out of the country immediately.”

“Not so, my dear,” said Yram. “‘Out of the country’ will not do for those people.  Nothing short of ‘out of the world’ will satisfy them.”

“That,” said George promptly, “must not be.”

“Certainly not, my dear, but that is what they will want.  I do not like having to tell them, but I am afraid we must.”

“Never mind,” said the Mayor, laughing.  “Tell them, and let us see what happens.”

They then dressed for dinner, where Hanky and Panky were the only guests.  When dinner was over Yram sent away her other children, George alone remaining.  He sat opposite the Professors, while the Mayor and Yram were at the two ends of the table.

“I am afraid, dear Professor Hanky,” said Yram, “that I was not quite open with you last night, but I wanted time to think things over, and I know you will forgive me when you remember what a number of guests I had to attend to.”  She then referred to what Hanky had told her about the supposed ranger, and shewed him how obvious it was that this man was a foreigner, who had been for some time in Erewhon more than seventeen years ago, but had had no communication with it since then.  Having pointed sufficiently, as she thought, to the Sunchild, she said, “You see who I believe this man to have been.  Have I said enough, or shall I say more?”

“I understand you,” said Hanky, “and I agree with you that the Sunchild will be in the temple to-morrow.  It is a serious business, but I shall not alter my sermon.  He must listen to what I may choose to say, and I wish I could tell him what a fool he was for coming here.  If he behaves himself, well and good:  your son will arrest him quietly after service, and by night he will be in the Blue Pool.  Your son is bound to throw him there as a foreign devil, without the formality of a trial.  It would be a most painful duty to me, but unless I am satisfied that that man has been thrown into the Blue Pool, I shall have no option but to report the matter at headquarters.  If, on the other hand, the poor wretch makes a disturbance, I can set the crowd on to tear him in pieces.”

George was furious, but he remained quite calm, and left everything to his mother.

“I have nothing to do with the Blue Pool,” said Yram drily.  “My son, I doubt not, will know how to do his duty; but if you let the people kill this man, his body will remain, and an inquest must be held, for the matter will have been too notorious to be hushed up.  All Higgs’s measurements and all marks on his body were recorded, and these alone would identify him.  My father, too, who is still master of the gaol, and many another, could swear to him.  Should the body prove, as no doubt it would, to be that of the Sunchild, what is to become of Sunchildism?”

Hanky smiled.  “It would not be proved.  The measurements of a man of twenty or thereabouts would not correspond with this man’s.  All we Professors should attend the inquest, and half Bridgeford is now in Sunch’ston.  No matter though nine-tenths of the marks and measurements corresponded, so long as there is a tenth that does not do so, we should not be flesh and blood if we did not ignore the nine points and insist only on the tenth.  After twenty years we shall find enough to serve our turn.  Think of what all the learning of the country is committed to; think of the change in all our ideas and institutions; think of the King and of Court influence.  I need not enlarge.  We shall not permit the body to be the Sunchild’s.  No matter what evidence you may produce, we shall sneer it down, and say we must have more before you can expect us to take you seriously; if you bring more, we shall pay no attention; and the more you bring the more we shall laugh at you.  No doubt those among us who are by way of being candid will admit that your arguments ought to be considered, but you must not expect that it will be any part of their duty to consider them.

“And even though we admitted that the body had been proved up to the hilt to be the Sunchild’s, do you think that such a trifle as that could affect Sunchildism?  Hardly.  Sunch’ston is no match for Bridgeford and the King; our only difficulty would lie in settling which was the most plausible way of the many plausible ways in which the death could be explained.  We should hatch up twenty theories in less than twenty hours, and the last state of Sunchildism would be stronger than the first.  For the people want it, and so long as they want it they will have it.  At the same time the supposed identification of the body, even by some few ignorant people here, might lead to a local heresy that is as well avoided, and it will be better that your son should arrest the man before the dedication, if he can be found, and throw him into the Blue Pool without any one but ourselves knowing that he has been here at all.”

I need not dwell on the deep disgust with which this speech was listened to, but the Mayor, and Yram, and George said not a word.

“But, Mayoress,” said Panky, who had not opened his lips so far, “are you sure that you are not too hasty in believing this stranger to be the Sunchild?  People are continually thinking that such and such another is the Sunchild come down again from the sun’s palace and going to and fro among us.  How many such stories, sometimes very plausibly told, have we not had during the last twenty years?  They never take root, and die out of themselves as suddenly as they spring up.  That the man is a poacher can hardly be doubted; I thought so the moment I saw him; but I think I can also prove to you that he is not a foreigner, and, therefore, that he is not the Sunchild.  He quoted the Sunchild’s prayer with a corruption that can have only reached him from an Erewhonian source—­”

Here Hanky interrupted him somewhat brusquely.  “The man, Panky,” said he, “was the Sunchild; and he was not a poacher, for he had no idea that he was breaking the law; nevertheless, as you say, Sunchildism on the brain has been a common form of mania for several years.  Several persons have even believed themselves to be the Sunchild.  We must not forget this, if it should get about that Higgs has been here.”

Then, turning to Yram, he said sternly, “But come what may, your son must take him to the Blue Pool at nightfall.”

“Sir,” said George, with perfect suavity, “you have spoken as though you doubted my readiness to do my duty.  Let me assure you very solemnly that when the time comes for me to act, I shall act as duty may direct.”

“I will answer for him,” said Yram, with even more than her usual quick, frank smile, “that he will fulfil his instructions to the letter, unless,” she added, “some black and white horses come down from heaven and snatch poor Higgs out of his grasp.  Such things have happened before now.”

“I should advise your son to shoot them if they do,” said Hanky drily and sub-defiantly.

Here the conversation closed; but it was useless trying to talk of anything else, so the Professors asked Yram to excuse them if they retired early, in view of the fact that they had a fatiguing day before them.  This excuse their hostess readily accepted.

“Do not let us talk any more now,” said Yram as soon as they had left the room.  “It will be quite time enough when the dedication is over.  But I rather think the black and white horses will come.”

“I think so too, my dear,” said the Mayor laughing.

“They shall come,” said George gravely; “but we have not yet got enough to make sure of bringing them.  Higgs will perhaps be able to help me to-morrow.”

* * * * *

“Now what,” said Panky as they went upstairs, “does that woman mean—­for she means something?  Black and white horses indeed!”

“I do not know what she means to do,” said the other, “but I know that she thinks she can best us.”

“I wish we had not eaten those quails.”

“Nonsense, Panky; no one saw us but Higgs, and the evidence of a foreign devil, in such straits as his, could not stand for a moment.  We did not eat them.  No, no; she has something that she thinks better than that.  Besides, it is absolutely impossible that she should have heard what happened.  What I do not understand is, why she should have told us about the Sunchild’s being here at all.  Why not have left us to find it out or to know nothing about it?  I do not understand it.”

So true is it, as Euclid long since observed, that the less cannot comprehend that which is the greater.  True, however, as this is, it is also sometimes true that the greater cannot comprehend the less.  Hanky went musing to his own room and threw himself into an easy chair to think the position over.  After a few minutes he went to a table on which he saw pen, ink, and paper, and wrote a short letter; then he rang the bell.

When the servant came he said, “I want to send this note to the manager of the new temple, and it is important that he should have it to-night.  Be pleased, therefore, to take it to him and deliver it into his own hands; but I had rather you said nothing about it to the Mayor or Mayoress, nor to any of your fellow-servants.  Slip out unperceived if you can.  When you have delivered the note, ask for an answer at once, and bring it to me.”

So saying, he slipped a sum equal to about five shillings into the man’s hand.

The servant returned in about twenty minutes, for the temple was quite near, and gave a note to Hanky, which ran, “Your wishes shall be attended to without fail.”

“Good!” said Hanky to the man.  “No one in the house knows of your having run this errand for me?”

“No one, sir.”

“Thank you!  I wish you a very good night.”