Ralph thanked him and left.
He sped northward to the Malibran, where he learned
that Mr. and Mrs. Spragg were at dinner. He sent
his name down to the subterranean restaurant, and
Mr. Spragg presently appeared between the limp portieres
of the “Adam” writing-room. He had
grown older and heavier, as if illness instead of
health had put more flesh on his bones, and there
were greyish tints in the hollows of his face.
“What’s this about Paul?” Ralph
exclaimed. “My mother’s had a message
we can’t make out.”
Mr. Spragg sat down, with the effect of immersing
his spinal column in the depths of the arm-chair he
selected. He crossed his legs, and swung one
foot to and fro in its high wrinkled boot with elastic
sides.
“Didn’t you get a letter?” he asked.
“From my—from Undine’s lawyers?
Yes.” Ralph held it out. “It’s
queer reading. She hasn’t hitherto been
very keen to have Paul with her.”
Mr. Spragg, adjusting his glasses, read the letter
slowly, restored it to the envelope and gave it back.
“My daughter has intimated that she wishes these
gentlemen to act for her. I haven’t received
any additional instructions from her,” he said,
with none of the curtness of tone that his stiff legal
vocabulary implied.
“But the first communication I received was
from you—at least from Mrs. Spragg.”
Mr. Spragg drew his beard through his hand. “The
ladies are apt to be a trifle hasty. I believe
Mrs. Spragg had a letter yesterday instructing her
to select a reliable escort for Paul; and I suppose
she thought—”
“Oh, this is all too preposterous!” Ralph
burst out, springing from his seat. “You
don’t for a moment imagine, do you—any
of you—that I’m going to deliver
up my son like a bale of goods in answer to any instructions
in God’s world?—Oh, yes, I know—I
let him go—I abandoned my right to him...but
I didn’t know what I was doing...I was sick
with grief and misery. My people were awfully
broken up over the whole business, and I wanted to
spare them. I wanted, above all, to spare my
boy when he grew up. If I’d contested the
case you know what the result would have been.
I let it go by default—I made no conditions
all I wanted was to keep Paul, and never to let him
hear a word against his mother!”
Mr. Spragg received this passionate appeal in a silence
that implied not so much disdain or indifference,
as the total inability to deal verbally with emotional
crises. At length, he said, a slight unsteadiness
in his usually calm tones: “I presume at
the time it was optional with you to demand Paul’s
custody.”
“Oh, yes—it was optional,”
Ralph sneered.
Mr. Spragg looked at him compassionately. “I’m
sorry you didn’t do it,” he said.
