Have His Carcase

‘The woman who brought him over. He ‘called’ her “old Natasha”, and said she was a peasant-woman and absolutely devoted to him. But she died very soon, and then a Jewish tailor and his family were kind to him. They adopted him and made him a British subject, and, gave him their own name of Goldschmidt. After that, their business failed somehow, and they were terribly poor. Paul had to run errands and sell newspapers. Then they tried emigrating to New York, but that was still worse. Then they died, and Paul had to look after himself. Paul didn’t like to say very much about that part of his life. It was all so terrible to him — like a bad dream.’

‘I suppose he went to school somewhere.’.

‘Oh, yes — he went to the ordinary State school with all poor little East Side children. But he hated it. They used to laugh at him because he was delicate. They were rough with him and once he got knocked down in the playground and was ill for a longtime. And he was terribly lonely.’

‘What did he do when he left school?’

‘He got work at a night-club, washing, up glasses. He says the girls were kind to him, but of course, he never talked much about that time. He was sensitive, you see. He thought people would look down on him if they knew he had done that kind of work.’

‘I suppose that was where he learnt to dance,’ said Harriet, thoughtfully.

‘Oh, yes — he was a marvellous dancer. It was in his blood, you know. When he was old enough, he got-work as a professional partner and did very well, though of course it wasn’t the kind of life he wanted.’

‘He managed to make quite a good living at it,’ said Harriet, thoughtfully, thinking of the too-smart clothes and the hand-made shoes.

‘Yes; he worked very hard. But he never was strong, and he told me that he wouldn’t be able to keep on much longer with the dancing. He had some trouble in one of his knees arthritis or something, and he was afraid it would get worse and cripple him. Isn’t it all terribly pathetic? Paul was so romantic, you know, and he wrote beautiful poetry. He loved everything that was beautiful.’

‘What brought him to Wilvercombe?’

‘Oh, he came back to England when he was seventeen, and got work in London. But the place went bankrupt, or got shut up by the police, or something, and he came here for a little holiday on what he had saved. Then he found they wanted a dancer here and he took the job temporarily, and he was so brilliant that the management kept him on.’

‘I see,’ Harriet reflected that it was going to be too difficult to trace these movements of Alexis through the Ghetto of New York and the mushroom clubs of the West End:

‘Yes — Paul used to say it was the hand of Destiny that brought him and me here together. It does seem strange, doesn’t it? We both just happened to come — by accident — just as though we were fated to meet. And now..’

The tears ran down Mrs Weldon’s cheeks, and she gazed up helplessly at Harriet.

‘We were both so sad and lonely; and we were going to be happy together.’

‘It’s frightfully sad,’ said Harriet, inadequately. ‘I suppose Mr Alexis was rather temperamental.’

‘If you mean,’ said Mrs Weldon, ‘that he did this awful thing himself — no, never! I know he didn’t. He was temperamental, of course, but he was radiantly happy with me. I’ll never believe he just went away like that, without even saying good-bye to me. It isn’t possible, Miss Vane. You’ve got to prove that it wasn’t possible. You’re so clever, I know you can do it. That’s way I wanted to see you and tell you about Paul!’

‘You realise,’ said Harriet, slowly, ‘that if he didn’t do it himself, somebody else must have done it.’

‘Why not?’ cried Mrs Weldon, eagerly. ‘Somebody must have envied our happiness. Paul was so handsome and romantic — there must have been people who were jealous of us. Or it may have been the Bolsheviks. Those horrible men would do anything, and I was only reading in the paper yesterday that England was simply swarming with them. They say all this business about passports isn’t a bit of good to keep them out. I call it absolutely, wicked, the way we let them come over here and plot against everybody’s safety and this Government simply encourages them. They’ve killed Paul, and I shouldn’t wonder if they started throwing bombs at the King and Queen next. It ought, to be stopped, or we shall have a revolution.’ Why, they even distribute their disgusting pamphlets to the Navy.’

‘Well,’ said Harriet, ‘we must wait and see what they find out. I’m afraid you may have to tell the police about some of this. It won’t be very pleasant for you, I’m afraid, but they’ll want to know everything they can.’

‘I’m sure I don’t mind what I have to go through,’ said Mrs Weldon, wiping her eyes resolutely, ‘if only I can help to clear Paul’s memory. Thank you very much, Miss Vane. I’m afraid I’ve taken up your time. You’ve been very kind.’

‘Not at all,’ said Harriet. ‘We’ll do our best.’