4 Knight Out 13
reminiscences, each of which appeared to him incredibly
For about half a minute I resented him; then I
let myself go and found myself soothed almost to
slumber by the flow of his talk. A wonderful man,
like an imbecile child nine-tenths of the time, and
yet, at the back of it all, one somehow saw the deep
night of his mind suffused with faint sparks of his
genius.
I had not the slightest idea where he was taking me ;
I did not care. I had gone to sleep inside. I woke to
find myself sitting in the Café Wisteria once more.
The head waiter was excitedly explaining to my
companion what a wonderful scene he had missed.
“ Mr. Fordham, he nearly kill’ ze Lord,” he bubbled,
wringing his fat hands. ‘ He nearly kill’ ze Lord.”
Something in the speech tickled my sense of ir-
reverence. I broke into a high-pitched shout of laughter.
“Rotten,” said my companion. “ Rotten! That
fellow Fordham never seems to make a clean job of
it anyhow. Say, look here, thisis my night out. You
go ’way like a good boy, tell all those boys and girls
come and have dinner.”
The waiter knew well enough who was meant; and
presently I found myself shaking hands with several
perfect strangers in terms which implied the warmest
and most unquenchable affection. It was really rather
a distinguished crowd. One of the men was a fat
German Jew, who looked at first sight like a piece of
canned pork that has got mislaid too long in the summer. .
But the less he said the more he did; and what he
did is one of the greatest treasures of mankind.
Then there was a voluble, genial man with a shock
of gray hair and a queer twisted smile on his face.
He looked like a character of Dickens. But he had
done more to revitalise the theatre than any other man
of his time.
I took a dislike to the women. They seemed so
unworthy of the men. Great men seem to enjoy going