'Ever seen a photograph printed?' asked Calvin, who had put on a white overall and was busy collecting bottles, scissors, tongs and various implements which Hunter did not recognize from a drawer in one of the tables. 'No? Well, this may interest you. You can even help if you like.'

'Look here,' said Hunter, 'you were going to tell me some thing. What is it?'

'In a minute,' said Calvin. 'Don't be impatient. This little job won't take long, and then we can be free to talk. Would you mind turning that switch there beside you?'

Hunter turned the switch and the hand of the clock began to revolve round its sixty-divisioned face.

'I think the hot-plate is on, isn't it?' said Calvin. 'Just touch it would you? Yes. It's thermostatically controlled so that the developing solution stays at an even temperature. Chemistry and temperature go together, you know. Now I must see to the bath.'

He turned a tap, and the water began to murmur softly. 'That's ready to use,' said Calvin. 'The water-level is controlled by a funnel in the outlet pipe so that the water is quite deep and always in motion. That's for washing the photos after they've been developed and fixed.'

Hunter stood on the brink of the bath and saw below his feet the water swirling in a dark fountain. Then he turned back to stare at the huge face and the moving finger of the clock. He protested no more. He was fascinated; but he was also afraid. He began watching Calvin.

Calvin now had a camera in his hand and was fiddling with it. He drew forth a large crystalline object. 'This is my eye,' he said to Hunter. 'This is the truthful eye that sees and remembers. The lens of my camera. You couldn't buy an eye like this for five hundred pounds.'

He approached the black machine on the table and began to fit the lens into it. 'This is the enlarger,' said Calvin. He swung it round. The enlarger consisted of a big black metal head which was joined to a thick shaft by a parallelogram of adjustable steel arms. Calvin turned a switch and lights became visible inside the head. Beneath it was a wooden board upon which Calvin now began to fix a sheet of white paper.

'The camera is really like an eye,' said Calvin, 'in that it reverses the image. In the human eye the image is turned right way round again by the brain. In the case of a photograph this machine acts as a brain. What I am going to do now is to print from negatives.' He reached for one of the bulky books on the other table, and Hunter saw as he flipped the pages over that each page held half a dozen strips of tiny negatives, clipped firmly into place.

'Here's the one I want to print,' said Calvin. He drew out a strip of negatives and slipped it into an aperture in the head of the enlarger; and as he drew the black strip rapidly along, the light shining from above flashed first one and then another of the pictures on to the white sheet below.

'This is it,' said Calvin, and began to fix the negative into position. 'I haven't got the thing focused, so you can't see the picture properly yet.' A blurred rectangle, in various shades of grey, was projected on to the paper.

'Now you can help,' said Calvin. 'You see those three trays of liquid on the hot plate? The first contains the developing fluid, the middle one is plain water, and the third one is the fixer which prevents the print from being affected any further by exposure to light. In a moment I'm going to put this machine into action, and I want you to count for me twelve seconds on the clock. Then I shall give you the print and I want you to hold it in the developing fluid with these tongs, moving it gently to and fro, for one minute. I'll count that time for you. The picture ought to begin to appear after about thirty seconds. Then you remove it into the water, and then at once into the fixer. From the fixer it goes into the bath. All right?'

'All right,' said Hunter. He moved and spoke like an automaton. He could hear the soft continual murmur of the water and the ticking of the clock. The only other sound was the beating of his heart.

'We'll wait till the hand reaches one again,' said Calvin. They both stood watching the clock. 'Now' he said, and a switch on the enlarger clicked over. Hunter began to count aloud, 'One, two ...' Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Calvin had placed his hand between the beam of light and the paper and was opening and closing his fingers above the left-hand side of the picture. His hand was very long and brightly illuminated, fire was flashing from his rings and a band of light fell on to his white cuff. With an effort Hunter kept his eyes on the clock. 'This is called "shading",' said Calvin's voice. 'I am controlling the amount of light which falls upon the print. A delicate operation.'

'Twelve,' said Hunter. The switch clicked back, and the light inside the head of the enlarger was extinguished at the same time. The room was darker.

'Good!' said Calvin. He seemed excited. 'Now we'll develop!' He took a pair of surgical scissors and snipped round the edge of the paper, which was still quite plain. His hands were golden in the amber light. He laid the paper down and cleaned a pair of tongs with a strongly smelling rag.

'Hold the print with these tongs,' said Calvin, 'and move it in the solution as I told you. Soon you'll see the picture appearing. It's like magic. I never get tired of seeing the picture come.'

Hunter took the tongs awkwardly and picked up the piece of paper.

'Wait for the clock,' said Calvin. 'Now.'

Hunter plunged the print into the solution and Calvin began to count. Hunter stared at the white paper as he moved it gently about Nothing was happening. 'Twenty-five,' said Calvin. Then something faint and greyish began to appear. Hunter could see the outlines of human figures. 'Thirty,' said Calvin. The picture was coming. 'Thirty-five,' said Calvin.

Hunter uttered a piercing cry and dropped the tongs into the solution. He turned on Calvin. 'You devil!' he cried. 'That's why you brought me here! You devil!'

'Look out!' cried Calvin, 'you'll spoil it!' He moved, thrusting Hunter aside, and seized the print, dipping it into the water and then into the fixer; and as Hunter reached out to s.n.a.t.c.h it from him he hurled it into the bath. Stumbling after him, Hunter fell to his knees on the edge of the bath. In the deep swirling water he could see the print turning rapidly over and over like a falling leaf. He plunged his arm in, coat sleeve and all, in a vain attempt to catch it as it swept madly round with the circling water. He touched it but it escaped, turning and turning its image towards him and away. Hunter grovelled upon the slippery edge of the bath. At last he caught the print by a corner and drew it out. He stood up, the water dripping from his coat, and examined the print carefully. What it represented was Rosa in the arms of the Lusiewiaz brothers.

Hunter looked at it for a moment and then tore it to pieces. He raised his eyes to where, very close to him, Calvin was standing. He was immobile, his face half gilded, staring at Hunter with an expression of triumphant intensity. Both men were breathing heavily. Hunter said nothing, but without warning he lunged violently in the direction of the enlarger. Like a flash and with the precision of a machine Calvin put out his foot, and as Hunter tripped he took his arm in a crushing grip and forced him to the floor. Hunter looked up at him wide-eyed, and as his arm was released and he rose, Calvin was standing between him and the negative. Then Calvin turned slowly and in a leisurely manner removed the strip from the enlarger, replaced it in the book, and put the book in a cupboard, which he locked, and pocketed the key.

Hunter stood perfectly still. His face was blazing and he was struggling for breath. He was very near to tears. He tried to say something, and as he unlocked his throat his eyes spilled over. He reached out for the rag which lay on the electric plate close to his hand and applied it to his face.

'Don't get that stuff in your eyes,' said Calvin, 'unless you want to be blind!'

Hunter's eyes began to hurt violently. Choking with rage and exasperation, he knelt down beside the bath, groping his way, and began to bathe his eyes with the swirling water. The water trickled on to his waistcoat and down his neck. Still the hot tears were coming.

Calvin stood beside him, looking down curiously. 'Why are you so upset?' he asked. 'This seems to me to be a fuss about practically nothing. In that picture your sister is as beautiful as a princess and just as proper. It's a very fine photograph and not, if I may put it so, over-exposed!'

'You're a devil!' said Hunter, still choking. 'I didn't know anyone could exist like you!' He had given up any thoughts of dignity and knelt in a pool of water at Calvin's feet. 'Where did you get that picture?'

'I took it myself,' said Calvin.

'I don't believe you,' said Hunter.

'Why not?' said Calvin. 'Do you imagine that your sister would have arranged to have it taken? I'd no idea, incidentally, that she had so much hair.'

With a cry like an animal, Hunter reached out and grasped Calvin's legs with all his force. For a moment they swayed, and then Calvin brought his hand down like a hammer on the back of Hunter's neck. He fell, half-stunned, and then was conscious that Calvin was propping him against the wall and dashing water into his face.

'Really, Hunter,' said Calvin, as he hurled another handful of water,' you do surprise me! I hope you don't mind my using your Christian name? I feel by now that I know you quite well. I must say that I neither intended nor expected this undignified struggle. But perhaps I am to blame. This childish device of letting you print the photograph yourself only occurred to me at the last moment, and I'm afraid I was carried away by my instinct for the dramatic.'

'Stop!' said Hunter, shielding his face. He buried it in his hands and sobbed for a moment. Then he was silent.

'That's better!' said Calvin. 'I really do apologize. Here, get up and sit in this chair. It's so wet on the floor, you must be soaked to the skin.'

Hunter got into the chair. Then he stared at Calvin, his mouth open and his face and hair soaked with water and tears. His eyes were still burning violently. Automatically he rubbed the back of his neck.

'Look here,' said Hunter at last, 'have you shown that picture to anyone?'

Calvin looked at him with a look which was almost tender in its intensity. 'Listen, my dear boy,' he said, 'let's be simple about this. There is one person who, I imagine, you are particularly anxious should not see this picture. Now, I have not shown it to this person, nor docs he know of its existence. I say this, and it is true. You may say, how do I know that you're telling the truth? To which I answer, you don't know - but, from your point of view, I may be, and you can't afford to gamble on it. Therefore, for all practical purposes, you had better a.s.sume that this picture is still, and so far, a secret between you and me and the camera.'

'From what I know of you - ' began Hunter.

'You know nothing of me,' said Calvin, 'so let's leave personalities out.'

'You beastly contemptible s.h.i.t of a crook,' said Hunter. 'What's your price for the negative?'

'Dear me!' said Calvin, 'see how high the seas of language run here, as Wittgenstein would say!'

'What's your price?' said Hunter.

'A small one,' said Calvin. 'Just the Artemis. And if I may once more abbreviate our conversation, if you say "How can I trust you?" the answer is that you've got no choice.'

Calvin was standing beside the table with his hand upon the head of the enlarger. Hunter, who had composed his face and dashed the wisps of dripping hair out of his eyes, glared up at him.

'Why did you imagine I would do business with you at all?' he asked.

Calvin spread out a golden hand, whose shadow flitted along the wall. 'It was a brilliant conjecture,' he said. 'I imagined that you would be concerned; and I've seen nothing to make me believe otherwise. Indeed, I must confess that the violence of your reaction has surprised me.'

Hunter held his head in his hands. 'I must have time to think this out!' he said.

'There is very little time, I'm afraid,' said Calvin. 'The annual meeting of shareholders is tomorrow.'

'Give me the negative,' said Hunter, 'and I'll do whatever you want at the meeting.'

'Sorry,' said Calvin, 'it is the privilege of the stronger to be the one who is trusted.'

'What's in this for you, Blick?' said Hunter. 'Why should you care so much about getting hold of the Artemis?'

'As I said,' said Calvin, 'you know nothing about me, and this is not the moment for teaching you. May I suggest that you give me an answer straight away? We've been making quite a lot of noise, and though Mischa hardly ever comes down here, he might just take it into his head to do so today.'

'What?' said Hunter.

'Oh, didn't you realize?' said Calvin. 'We are in the cellars of Mischa's house. I thought you might recognize the back way in - but I suppose there's no reason why you should.'

'Let me out!' said Hunter. He jumped up and made for the door.

Calvin barred the way. 'Carefull' he said. 'You're like a dog that's been in the Serpentine, throwing water over everything. Let me tidy you up a bit.'

Hunter stood like a child while Calvin set his tie straight, rubbed his face and head with a towel, and then combed his hair into place.

'I'm afraid you're very wet, but nothing can be done about that,' said Calvin, 'and I've made you late for your appointment. You'll have to take a taxi. Have you got enough money?'

'Let me out!' said Hunter.

'My dear boy,' said Calvin, holding him by the shoulders, 'may I count on you tomorrow?'

'Yes,' said Hunter. 'Now let me go.'

When Calvin led him out into the mews, he took to his heels without looking back. Blinded by the daylight, he blundered into a lamp-post and several pa.s.sers-by before he finally slowed down to a walking pace.

Thirteen.

AT breakfast-time on the following day, Hunter Keepe found himself without appet.i.te. He looked across the table towards his sister, who never spoke in any case at breakfast, and was grateful for the copy of The Times which, elevated between them by Rosa, concealed from him the surly expression which he guessed her to be wearing, and from her the shocked and despairing look which he felt sure he was not proving able to banish. He had not slept. The posed trio, which struck him hideously as a sort of pieta in reverse, which he had seen in the photograph haunted him throughout the night in various forms, sometimes still and sometimes diabolically animated. The pain which this vision caused him made a deep wound into which all lesser miseries flowed indifferently: the humiliation suffered at the hands of Calvin, the enforced loss of the Artemis, the possibility of Rosa's displeasure. As he looked at the front page of The Times which Rosa was holding within a few inches of his nose, Hunter wondered whether or not she would decide to come to the meeting. Late on the previous night he had forced himself to scribble down a brief and ill-written statement in which the sale of the Artemis was proposed. What he had not succeeded in doing was to imagine himself daring to present this shameful manifesto to his sister. He hoped ardently that she would not come. But beyond this he had no plan, and was indeed incapable of any sort of mental activity except that of brooding upon the pain of his situation. Hatred, shame and anger, not yet differentiated, shifted and struggled in his heart.

He rose from the table. Upstairs Annette, who since her liberation from Ringenhall had not made appearances at breakfast-time, could be heard turning on her bath. Hunter coughed and fixed his eyes on the luxuriant dark crown of his sister's head, now visible over the top of the newspaper. 'Well, I must be off.'

The meeting was due to begin at ten-thirty: but Hunter was impatient to be out of the house. He could not have endured a conversation with Rosa, and the very sight of her moved him to a deep distress.

'Good-bye, then,' said Rosa, without looking up. She reached out for some more coffee. Hunter fled.

At ten-fifteen Hunter was already entering the West End hotel where meetings of the shareholders of Artemis traditionally took place. Hunter would not have troubled to hold the meetings, since they were now become such a farce, in these solemn surroundings: but the annual hire of a large conference room had once been presented to the Artemis by a venerable lady for a period of years that had not yet expired. So it was that Hunter would present himself annually, with a written report and a financial statement, before a long mahogany table and a set of empty chairs, where, alone or in the company of Rosa, he would wait for about three quarters of an hour before departing. In this way Hunter had exercised his const.i.tutional tyranny of which the last act, he sadly reflected, would be the deliberate destruction of his mother's n.o.ble journal.

Hunter entered the conference room. It was deserted and unkempt, with most of the curtains still pulled across the tall windows. The management had ceased long ago to take the Artemis meetings seriously. Hunter pulled back the curtains, put the chairs straight, and sat down at the end of the table. He spread out before him on the green baize cloth the last twelve issues of the periodical. The room was very silent. He closed his eyes, which were still smarting from the infusion of chemicals and from the tears which he had shed during the night. A sense of total physical and mental wretchedness swept over him, and he laid his head on the table. Where he was and what he would do next he was not able to think out; he was only aware that what he had seen upon the photograph imposed itself relentlessly between himself and a being that he loved which had alternately the face of Rosa and of Mischa. Until he had done all that he could to erase that vision, he would not be able to rest; but he knew, too, that what he was to do today was only the first move towards its erasure, and that perhaps it would never be erased. The problem of whether he could trust Calvin hardly occurred to Hunter at all. It was as if the destruction of the Artemis was a symbolic act which higher and more terrible powers would take note of and count, somehow, to his credit.

The door opened, and Calvin came in. Hunter lifted his head abruptly. 'Excuse me,' said Calvin, speaking in the low voice of one giving utterance in a church or a museum, 'may I take the liberty of attending this meeting? I imagine that you expected me to come.'

'Of course,' said Hunter. 'Naturally you want to satisfy yourself that everything is in order. Please be seated.'

Calvin settled in a chair half-way down the table. They sat in silence. Ten-thirty struck. The silence continued. Hunter smoothed out in front of him the piece of paper on which his final statement was written. He felt like a victim of the Inquisition. The sound of the door opening again made him start like a guilty thing.

Rosa entered, saw Calvin, and stopped in her tracks. Calvin looked at her under his eyebrows and then dropped his eyes and began to examine his hands which lay before him on the table. He had the coy expression of one concealing amus.e.m.e.nt. Rosa advanced, picking her way like an animal inspecting some unforeseen phenomenon. She sat down directly opposite Calvin, without looking at Hunter, and then also lowered her gaze to the table. They sat in silence, all three. Rosa looked at her watch.

Hunter, who had been blushing ever since Rosa entered, cleared his throat and said in a husky voice, 'Shall I read the statement?'

'Please,' said Calvin, after a moment. Rosa said nothing.

Hunter looked at the first sentences and felt that he would be unable to read out this statement in the presence of Rosa. He took hold of the paper as if it were the steering-wheel of some vehicle which he had to drive along the edge of a precipice. He opened his mouth to gasp for breath and found that he had begun to read the first paragraph in a low monotonous voice.

He had not read very far when strange noises began to disturb the peace of the meeting. There was a screeching of brakes as several vehicles drew up simultaneously outside the hotel. This was followed by a sort of distant uproar in the entrance hall. Hunter paused to wait until this din should have died down; but instead of decreasing the sound now seemed to be coming nearer. There was a commotion on the stairs, and then a brisk knock upon the door. A spectacled face underneath an extremely large hat looked in. 'Is this the Artemis meeting?' asked an elderly lady to whom the face and hat belonged.

'Yes,' said Hunter, shrinking back in his chair.

'Yes!' the elderly lady shouted out of the door, 'This way, ladies!' she entered the room, followed shortly by three companions of similar age and appearance. One of them, who thought she recognized Rosa, bowed to her and smiled. Then all four sat down and began to inspect Hunter and Calvin with an air of suspicion and curiosity.

Calvin turned sharply to Hunter, whose face expressed astonishment; catching Calvin's glance, he spread out his hands and opened his mouth. Calvin turned to look at Rosa, who was frowning fiercely at the edge of the table. The din in the entrance hall continued, and more vehicles could be heard arriving at the door. Voices were raised upon the landing, and a further bevy of elderly women came bursting into the room, talking loudly as they entered. The newcomers were greeted by cries from the four who had arrived first. Amid swirling of skirts and removal of gloves there was a good deal of handshaking and inquiries about health. An elegant woman whose white hair was tinted with blue bore down upon Rosa, who sprang to her feet and saluted her with respect. 'Mrs Carrington-Morris,' said Rosa, 'I'm so glad that you managed to come!'

Hunter, who had fixed his eyes upon Rosa in the vain hope of receiving some sort of sign, also rose to his feet, stood irresolutely, and then sat down again wretchedly. Under cover of the din, he said to Calvin, who was leaning across the table towards him, 'I didn't arrange this!'

'I believe you!' said Calvin.

At this point Mrs Wingfield arrived, forcing her way into the already crowded room, followed by several supporters. Her appearance aroused shouts of 'Camilla!' and at once a number of ladies were crowding about her. Mrs Carrington-Morris, who was standing with her hand on Rosa's shoulder, waved a glove across the room. Mrs Wingfield was hatless, but her grey hair was sleek, and she wore a fine tweed dress whose age was betrayed only by its unusual length. She carried her head well thrown back and surveyed the scene with the air of a general whose eagle eye can at once pick out the essential features from a confused ensemble.

It was clear by now that there were not enough chairs for this unexpectedly large gathering. Hunter, who had stood up again, was standing miserably beside his. Calvin was still seated, watching the scene closely with an inscrutable expression. Only one or two of the ladies were now seated. There was a general move to sit down.

Rosa turned to Calvin. Her frown had cleared and her face was unusually resolute and bland. 'Mr Blick,' she said, 'would you be so kind as to go and organize some more chairs? We seem to be short of them.'

Calvin got to his feet and Hunter tried in vain to catch his eye before he left the room. He reappeared shortly followed by hotel servants carrying chairs. A few more ladies were still arriving. The company by now amounted to more than thirty. The uproar was considerable.

Rosa's voice could now be heard rising above the din. 'Could everybody please be seated?'

There was a shuffling and sc.r.a.ping of chairs, and everyone sat down. As there was not enough s.p.a.ce at the table, the company filled the whole room, scattered in irregular rows in a rough semicircle. With the clattering and the swish of long skirts subsiding and being patted into position, the voices gradually fell silent. At last the room was still.

As the silence continued, a number of people turned to look at Mrs Wingfield. Others fixed their gaze upon Rosa, or else looked to see whom their neighbour was looking at. Calvin looked at everybody in turn. Rosa looked at Hunter. Hunter looked at the table and saw with blurred vision the sc.r.a.p of paper on which his report was written. Then he looked up and saw before him an astonishingly large number of venerable heads, some bearing the grey straight hair and purposeful expression of the reformer, others more conventionally decked with snowy curls and fashionable hats. Veils were being swept back, gla.s.ses donned or removed with a click, and one extremely old lady in the front row who was wearing a hearing-aid placed the receiver ostentatiously upon the table. Hunter swallowed hard and looked down again at his script. His mind became completely blank.

At last Rosa, her voice trembling slightly, said, 'My brother usually takes the chair at these meetings. Is it your wish that he should read out the annual statement about the Artemis?'

There was a silence. Then a lady with a ringing voice, who was wearing what appeared to be a mantilla, said, 'Is it in order for him to be chairman and to read the statement?'

Mrs Carrington-Morris, turned with a gracious gesture to Rosa, said, 'In my view, Miss Keepe herself ought to be in the chair.'

Rosa said at once, 'I'd rather not!'

Mrs Wingfield, who it immediately appeared was a little drunk, called out, 'Never mind the details, we aren't in the House of Commons! Let the boy say his say.'

'Excuse me,' said the lady with the hearing-aid, 'I should be very glad, and I believe I speak for a number of others present, to be told what this is all about.'