when he seemed to lose control over
himself--but did he really lose it? There were only four people
at dinner: my host, his wife, their nephew (a young man famous for
drollery), and myself. Towards the end of dinner the conversation had
turned on early marriages. 'I,' said the young man presently, 'shall
not marry till I am seventy. I shall then marry some charming girl of
seventeen.' His aunt threw up her hands, exclaiming, 'Oh, Tom, what a
perfectly horrible idea! Why, she isn't born yet!' 'No,' said the young
man, 'but I have my eye on her mother.' At this, Brett, who was holding
a light for his master's cigarette, turned away convulsively, with
a sudden dip of the head, and vanished from the room. His breakdown
touched and pleased all four beholders. But--was it a genuine lapse? Or
merely a feint to thrill us?--the feint of an equilibrist so secure that
he can pretend to lose his balance?

If I knew why Brett ceased to be butler in that household, I might be
in less doubt as to the true inwardness of him. I knew only that he was
gone. That was fully ten years ago. Since then I have had one glimpse of
him. This was on a summer night in London. I had gone out late to visit
some relatives and assure myself that they were safe and sound; for
Zeppelins had just passed over London for the first time. Not so much
horror as a very deep disgust was the atmosphere in the populous quiet
streets and squares. One square was less quiet than others, because
somebody was steadily whistling for a taxi. Anon I saw the whistler
silhouetted in the light cast out on a wide doorstep from an open door,
and I saw that he was Brett. His attitude, as he bent out into the dark
night, was perfect in grace, but eloquent of a great tensity--even of
agony. Behind him stood a lady in an elaborate evening cloak. Brett's
back must have conveyed to her in every curve his surprise, his shame,
that she should be kept waiting. His chivalry in her behalf was such as
Burke's for Marie Antoinette--little had he dreamed that he should have
lived to see such disasters fallen upon her in a nation of gallant
men, in a nation of men of honour, and of cavaliers. He had thought ten
thousand taxis must have leaped from their stands, etc. The whistle
that at first sounded merely mechanical and ear-piercing had become
heartrending and human when I saw from whom it proceeded--a very
heart-cry that still haunts me. But was it a heart-cry? Was Brett, is
Brett more than