LAST APPEARANCE OF THE CLOCKWORK MAN
I
It must for a question for as to what action might have been taken by Doctor Allingham and Gregg in conjunction, had they been able to their of the Clockwork man upon a thorough-going scale; for while their were taking place the of them from his in the cellar.
Indeed, it was to be that he would there for very long. As Gregg pointed out, such very needed attention, and the was always likely to occur. There must have been some deeply-rooted that the Clockwork man from his sleep; and having awakened, the of the no him as distasteful. It was not to be that the Doctor, in his and panic, should have succeeded in the of the clock. He had about a192] temporary which had off. It had to be in mind, also, that although the Clockwork man was upon in order that he should be to work in a right fashion, it was only too plain that he act and wrongly.
The truth is that Doctor Allingham had not been able to the to make a of the Clockwork man; and he had permitted himself to assume that there would be no developments. So as was possible he had allowed himself that very necessary relaxation, and he had upon Gregg it with him. The Clockwork man was not what either of them had, alternatively, or feared. From Allingham's point of view, in particular, he was not that of the which his original had suggested. True, he was still an monstrosity, an revelation; but since the of the printed it had been possible to him with a little more equanimity. The Clockwork man was a of the future, but he was not the whole future.
And now that he had there was a that he would return, and that his and all that was with him would from193] memory of man or into a legend. That a of the affair, and it was the one that Doctor Allingham accepted. This visitation, like other in the past, had a meaning; and it was the meaning that more than the miracle. To the of the Clockwork man to Doctor Allingham a of the powers of man.
The Doctor's may be taken as a of his character. Naturally, the of such a upon a and mind would be to it to a of of all that man has been in the past, and a less of that possibility of the which the Clockwork man presented to the ordinary observer. Gregg, on the other hand, may be excused, on the score of his youthfulness, for the of his actions. His attempt to the of the Wide World Magazine that his of the affair, put in the shape of a magazine story, was actually on fact, ended in failure. His power was not doubted; but he was to work the up and a little it as a to some magazine that did not for the194] truth of its tall stories. As this was Gregg's dignity, and he no one else to take him seriously, he up like an oyster, and just in time to a on the part of his friends. It was only years later, and after many in this world of hard and difficult endeavour, that he to the Doctor's view, and to the memory of the Clockwork man as a rich in significance.
II
One Arthur Withers and Rose Lomas sat together on their talking in low whispers. The lagged, and the air about them was so still that their spoken they the talk of in the at their feet. There had been interruptions. So familiar had their in that position, that it had to be almost a among the people who passed that way the to the without the lovers. There are ways, too, of upon a without the pedestrian.
This there had been one or two with red, faces, too and to make much comment. Then195] Mrs. Flack had come along with her black (they had to off for her as she was not so as she had been), and soon the Curate, who affably, and when it was to be. He was so looking to them.
But it was not to be yet. That was the of their murmurings. It couldn't be done on Arthur's present income, and he was still less than that it be as or permanent. Rose understood. To her country-bred mind it was that Arthur should succeed in adding up so many the of a day, though the result did not always meet with the of the bank authorities. They would have to wait.
"It's such a responsibility," said Arthur, presently. "If we were to married, I mean. I might come home with the any day."
"I shouldn't mind," Rose, "but I couldn't you to like that about it. We shall have to wait."
"I wonder why I'm not clever," Arthur remarked, after a long pause. Rose him her.
"Oh, you are. The you say. The you think! I knew."
And although he his vigorously, Arthur that region in his mind all the that a knowledge to the practical of life but very useful for the purpose of living.
"I do have ideas," he admitted, thoughtfully. "I I'm what you might call an of chap."
"Dreadfully," said Rose, without a of disrespect. "The books you read!"
"Of course, I'm only a of amateur," Arthur continued, modestly. "But I do like books, and I can at what a chap's at—in a way."
He hard at a grasshopper, who to be the possibility of an leap, for his great were and his long the air. "Sometimes I think the who books must be a like me—in a way. They to like the same as I do. There's a about in most books, and I like beauty, don't you?"
"Yes," Rose, what he meant.
The and with a thud, almost at their feet. They looked at it without about it at all. But its produced a pause.
"In the books I've read," Arthur resumed, "there's a you might as being not much good at anything and yet decent."
"Heroes," Rose, knowledge of was not very wide.
"Sometimes. Chaps people don't understand. That's they like more than anything else, and not many people about beauty. They only think of it when they see a or look at pictures. If you can beauty, then you're alright. Nobody thinks you're strange. You don't have any difficulties."
The of Rose's body, and a so low that Arthur it, to that were too for comprehension. The again, and this time upon the stile, where he for a long while, as though what of the common natural to have him to choose so a landing place. During the long pause Rose did not see the look of upon Arthur's face.
"But they always married," he said, suddenly. "The in books, I mean. They always married in the end."
"Oh, Arthur!" Her hand up to pull198] his, for the moment, head. "Oh, Arthur, we will married some day."
"You're so pretty," he whispered. "You're so very beautiful."
"Oh, am I? Do you think so? I'm so glad—I'm so sorry."
Her forth, inexplicably, to Arthur, who he so much that was difficult to understand. He had let his without any knowledge of its depth, or that which it in Rose.
"I can't you not to have me," she sobbed. "It's cruel. It ought to be arranged. People ought to understand."
Arthur was to common sense. "They don't," he whispered, as they one another in arms. "If they did they would be like us."
And then he a possible to the search for beauty.
"Besides," he added, in a whisper, "there's the children."
III
Along the path that from Bapchurch to Great Wymering there walked two persons, slowly, and with an air of having talked themselves into embarrassed silence. Their steps199] were them to the upon which Arthur and Rose sat.
"That last of yours cut me to the quick," said the Doctor, at last.
"I meant it to," said Lilian, firmly. "I want you to be cut to the quick. It's our only chance."
"Of what?" the Doctor, of stupidity.
"Of somehow. Oh, don't you understand? I want to for you, but you're making it impossible. You will about the to me. Your everything. It's as I said just now. I like my friends to be humorous; but my lover must be serious."
"But I can't help it," the Doctor. "Take away my and I'm at what's left of myself. There's nothing but an chaos."
"Because you are of life," said Lilian. "Men have laughed their way through the ages; have and lived. I can't your world of and of thumb laws. To me love is a chaos, a dear confusion—a muddle. It's itself, an with God."
The Doctor in his mind to the of their talk. "But you to200] my house," he mused, "that was how the arose. And now we've got up in the stars."
Lilian up at them. "If only we keep there! By their are men known. A house ought to be a of place. No more. Once you it, it a prison, with hard attached."
"But where all this lead?" the Doctor, in with her mood. "Why not make some permanent and as good as they can be?"
"Because they are only part of ourselves, only so many to the organism, of brain. We're slowly that. Humanity daren't be permanent, in its fundamentals, and all the have to do with and being. Just think what would if the blood in your permanent?"
"Death," said the Doctor, speaking from knowledge than from conviction.
"Well, then," Lilian, triumphantly, "isn't all this of things, all this wanting to have and keep, a of death, from the extremities? Wouldn't it be if the didn't change, if we got in some way, didn't old or our hair, or have influenza?"
The Doctor paused in his walk. How that Lilian should say that! It almost as though she must have about the Clockwork man!
And then they stopped, and at the same moment saw Rose and Arthur seated on the stile.
"Let's go back," Lilian, and they and their steps. The of the lovers sealed their lips. Doctor Allingham for a moments with a of wanting to escape. Almost it was a physical sensation; as though the energy in his brain had to of the that it through the by knowledge and experience. It was Lilian who spoke next, and there was a note of pain in her voice.
"Oh, why are we like this? Why can't we be like them? We shan't any nearer this way. We shan't be than those two. We've got a more thoughts, a little more knowledge—and it may be the of knowledge."
"Then why—" the Doctor, as though this the whole question.
"Oh, wait," said Lilian, "I had to have it out with you. I had to talk of these things,202] as though talking's any good! I couldn't let you just take me for granted. Don't you see? I all this talk us is nothing but an of the age-long of mating. I'm just like the woman away from her man."
The Doctor paused in his walk and took of her elbows. "Does that that you've been playing with me all this time?"
"Coquette," Lilian, "only it's not been until this moment. Somehow those two me. There's always this of with us women, and it's more and extended. Yes, give us longer life. Everything has a larger prelude. I've been of your big house, which will be such a to look after. I've been of a too honeymoon, and then of you a at and a regular up of clocks." She laughed hysterically. "And then you might do in the winter evenings."
"Not on your life," the Doctor. "At the I shall you with my many-times-told jests."
"And at the best I shall learn to put up with them," said Lilian. "That's where my of will come in."
The Doctor took her in his arms.203] "But you care?" he whispered. "You to make me again?"
She in his arms, her mind newly alert.
"Oh, I of that. How we people are! I that being a lover would make you young."
"Ignoramus," laughed the Doctor. "A woman's child is always her husband."
"You and your epigrams!"
"You and your thoughts!"
She joined in his mirth. A little later it was she had the last word.
"Creation," she whispered, "I don't it's yet. That seven days and seven nights is still going on. Man has yet to be created, and woman must help to create him."
IV
"I must be back," said the Clockwork man to himself, as he slowly over the of the and approached the stile. "I shall only make a of here."
There was still a touch of in his voice, as though he sorry now to a world so full of and adventures. Something about his to that an had taken204] place in his arrangements. You might have him an odd figure, stiff-necked, and in his gait; but there were no into his early manner.
"I have a feeling," he continued, a to his nose, "that if I put on my top now I should be off like a shot."
But he did not hurry. He his as though to as much as possible in his last survey of a shapely, if limited world.
"Such a little place," he mused. "You have such fun—and be yourself. I wonder why it me so of something—before the days of the clock, we knew."
He sighed, and stopped in order to the two seated together on the stile. Rose was asleep in Arthur's arms.
"Don't bother," said the Clockwork man, as Arthur slightly, "I'm not going that way. I shall go the way I came."
"Oh," said Arthur, with embarrassment, "then I shan't see you again?"
"Not for a thousand years," the Clockwork man, with a of his lip. "Perhaps never."
"Are you now?" Arthur enquired.
"I'm alright, if that's what you205] mean," said the other, his eyes. Then he looked very hard at Rose, and the on his to mild astonishment.
"Why are you that other person like that?" he asked.
"She's my sweetheart," Arthur replied.
"You must that to me. I've the formula."
Arthur considered. "I'm it can't be explained," he murmured, "it just is."
The Clockwork man one slowly, and at the same time there a noise, very and detached. As Arthur looked at him he noticed another singularity. Down the surface of the Clockwork man's there rolled two tears. They each simultaneously, exact pace.
"I now," the voice resumed, with something like a in it, "all that old business—before we fixed, you know. But they had to it out. It would have the clock too complicated. Besides, it wasn't necessary, you see. The clock you going for ever. The up out of fashion, the up of into little that up like you—offspring, they used to call them."
Arthur this. "No children," he hazarded.
The Clockwork man his slowly from to side. "No children. No love—nothing but going on for ever, in space and knowledge."
He looked directly at Arthur. "And dreaming," he added. "We dream, you know."
"Yes?" Arthur murmured, interested.
"The states," the Clockwork man, "are the point in clock evolution. They are very expensive, it is a to a dream. It's all rolled up in a spool, you see, and then you fit it into the clock and it. The are like life, only of they aren't real. And then there are the records, you know, the music records. They fit into the clock as well."
"But do you all have clocks?" Arthur ventured. "Are you with them?"
"We're not born," said the Clockwork man, looking annoyed, "we just are. We've the same since the days of the clock." He ruminated, his into regular lines. "Of course, there are the others, the makers, you know."
"The makers?" Arthur.
"Yes, you wouldn't know about them, although you're not a maker yourself. Only you wear like us, and the makers don't wear clothes. That was what puzzled207] me about you. The look in your me of a maker. They came after the last wars. It's all in history. There was a great of and killing and up and poisoning, and then the makers came and they didn't fight. It was they who the clock for us, and after that every man had to have a clock into him, and then he didn't have to any more, he move about in a world where there was of room for everybody."
"But didn't the other people object?" said Arthur.
"Object to what?"
"To having the clock into them."
"Would you object," said the Clockwork man, "to having all your solved for you?"
"I not," Arthur admitted, humbly.
"That was what the makers did for man," the other. "Life had impossible, and it was the only practical way out of the difficulty. You see, the makers were very clever, and very mild and gentle. They were different to ordinary beings. To with, they were real."
"But aren't you real?" Arthur not from asking.
"Of not," out the Clockwork man, "I'm only an invention."
"But you look real," Arthur.
The Clockwork man a faint, cackle.
"We when the us, or the music records. But the makers are real, and they live in the world. No man is allowed to into the world. The clock us from doing that. It was we were such a and got in the way of the makers that they the clock."
"But what is the world like?" questioned Arthur.
"How can I know?" said the Clockwork man, his ears in despair. "I'm fixed. I can't be anything what the clock me to be. Only, since I've been in your world, I've had a suspicion. It's such a little place. And you have women."
Arthur his breath. "No women?"
"No. You see, the makers all the they were more real, and they didn't want the to go on, or the world that the men wanted. So the makers took the away from us and us up in the and gave us the world we wanted. But they left us no of into the world, and we can neither laugh properly."
"But you try," Arthur.
"It's only breakdown," said the Clockwork man, sadly. "With us laughing or are of breakdown. When we laugh or that means that we have to go and or adjusted. Something has got out of gear. Because in our life there's no for these things."
His voice away and ended in a soft, sound, like sheep in the distance. During the long pause that Arthur had time to that of for this being which had his of him; but now his into an compassion, and with it there came to him a fever.
"But must you always be like this?" he began, with a note in his voice. "Is there no for you?"
"None," said the Clockwork man, and the word was out on a hollow, note. "We are made, you see. For us is finished. We can only ourselves very slowly, but we shall the of this death. We've only ourselves to blame. The makers gave us our chance. They are beings of patience and forbearance. But they saw that we were to go on as we were, and so they this means of us our wish.210] You see, Life was a Vale of Tears, and men of the long journey. The makers said that if we we should come to the end and know earth has not seen. But we not wait, and we faith. It to us that if we do away with death and disease, with and decay, then all our would be over. So they did that for us, and we've stopped the same as we were, that time and space no longer us."
He off and with some of emotion. "And now they play with us. They wind us up and make us do all of things, just for fun. They try all of with us, and we can't help ourselves we're in their power; and if they like they can stop the clock, and then we aren't anything at all."
"But that's not very of them," Arthur.
"Oh, they don't us. We don't any pain or annoyance, only a of revolt, and that can be adjusted. You see, the makers can ring the with us, and there isn't any of being, from a great to a out of a book, that we can't be into by a hand. It's all very wonderful, you know."
He his arms up and them again sharply.
"You wouldn't some of the we can do. The clock is a most invention! And the economy. Some of the hands, you see, can be used for different purposes. Twist them so many times and you have a politician; a little more and you have a financier. Press one stop and we talk about the of man; press and there will issue from us nothing but blasphemy. Tighten a and we are altruists; it and we are beasts. You see, ago it was the best and that man be; and the makers like to themselves by going over it again. There isn't any best or with them."
"But you," Arthur, "what is your life like?"
Again the the Clockwork man's cheeks, this time in a of regular streams.
"We have only one hope, and that is an illusion. Sometimes we think the makers will take us in the end, and so perfect the that we shall be like them. But how can they? How can they—unless—unless—"
"Unless what?" Arthur, of a final collapse.
"Unless we die," said the Clockwork man, slightly, "unless we to be up and put into the earth, and wait while we slowly turn into little worms, and then into big worms; and then into clumsy, creatures, and come again to the Vale of Tears." He slightly, with a against his nose. "But it will take such a time, you know. That's why we to have the clock. We were impatient. We were of waiting. The makers said we must have patience; and we not patience. They said that took place in the of an eye, and we must have patience."
"Patience!" Arthur. "Yes, I think they were right. We must have patience. We have to wait."
For a moments the Clockwork man along with a of and words, and to that the game was up. "I can't go on like this," he concluded, in a undertone. "I ought not to have to talk like this. It the mechanism. I wasn't meant for this of thing. I must go now."
He to dim. Arthur, polite, out a hand, his left arm Rose. The Clockwork man veered213] forward. He to Arthur's and offered a hand. But they missed each other by days.
"Oh, don't you see?" the voice asseverated.
"But what are we to do?" said Arthur, his voice. "Tell us what we must do to avoid you?"
"I don't know." The thin voice like someone in the distance. "How should I know? It's all so difficult. But don't make it more difficult than you can help. Keep smiling—laughter—such a little world."
He was rapidly.
"Come back," Arthur, why he was so in earnest. "You must come and tell us."
"Wallabaloo," through the months. "Wum—wum—"
"What's that," Rose exclaimed, awakened.
"Hark," said Arthur, her tightly. "Be quiet—I want to for something."
"Nine and ninepence—" he at last, very thin and distinct. And then there was stillness.
