Teddy Henfrey’s First Impressions
At four o’clock, Teddy Henfrey, the clock-jobber, came into the bar.
“Oh, Mrs. Hall,” said he, “this is terrible weather for thin boots!”
The snow outside was falling faster.
Mrs. Hall agreed, and then noticed he had his bag with him.
“Now you’re here, Mr. Henfrey,” said she, “I’d be glad if you have a look at the old clock in the parlour.”
And leading the way, she went across to the parlour door and rapped and entered.
Her visitor, she saw as she opened the door, was seated in the armchair before the fire, with his bandaged head drooping on one side. The only light in the room was the red glow from the fire-which lit his eyes like adverse railway signals, but left his face in darkness. She had lit the bar lamp, and her eyes were dazzled. But for a second it seemed to her that the man she looked at had an enormous mouth wide open-a vast and incredible mouth. It was the sensation of a moment: the white-bound head, the monstrous eyes, and this huge mouth below it. Then he stirred, started up in his chair. She opened the door wide, so that the room was lighter, and she saw him more clearly. The shadows, she thought, had tricked her.
“Would you mind, sir? This man is going to look at the clock,” she said, recovering from the momentary shock.
“Look at the clock?” he said, staring round in a drowsy manner, and then, getting more fully awake, “certainly.”
Mrs. Hall went away to get a lamp, and he rose and stretched himself. Then Mr. Teddy Henfrey, entering, was confronted by this bandaged person.
“Good afternoon,” said the stranger, regarding him-as Mr. Henfrey says-”like a lobster.”
“I hope,” said Mr. Henfrey, “I won’t disturb you.”
“Not at all,” said the stranger. “Though, I understand,” he said turning to Mrs. Hall, “that this room is really to be mine for my own private use.”
“I thought, sir,” said Mrs. Hall, “you’d prefer the clock-”
“Certainly,” said the stranger, “certainly-but, as a rule, I like to be alone and undisturbed. But I’m really glad to have the clock,” he said, seeing a certain hesitation in Mr. Henfrey’s manner. “Very glad.”
Mr. Henfrey had intended to apologise and withdraw, but this anticipation reassured him. The stranger turned round with his back to the fireplace and put his hands behind his back.
Mrs. Hall was about to leave the room, when her visitor asked her if she had made any arrangements about his boxes at Bramblehurst. She told him she had mentioned the matter to the postman, and that the carrier could bring them tomorrow.
“You are certain that is the earliest?” he said.
She was certain.
“I should explain,” he added, “what I was really too cold and fatigued to do it before, that I am an experimental investigator.”
“Indeed, sir,” said Mrs. Hall.
“And my baggage contains apparatus and appliances.”
“Very useful things indeed they are, sir,” said Mrs. Hall.
“And I’m very anxious to get on with my inquiries.”
“Of course, sir.”
“My reason for coming to Iping,” he proceeded, “was a desire for solitude. I do not wish to be disturbed in my work. In addition to my work, an accident-”
“I thought so,” said Mrs. Hall to herself.
“-necessitates a retirement. My eyes are sometimes so weak and painful that I have to shut myself up in the dark for hours. Lock myself up. Sometimes. Not at present, certainly. So the stranger in the room is a source of excruciating annoyance to me-these things should be understood.”
“Certainly, sir,” said Mrs. Hall. “And may I ask-”
“I think, that is all,” said the stranger.
After Mrs. Hall had left the room, he remained standing in front of the fire, glaring at the clock-mending. Mr. Henfrey wanted to delay his departure and perhaps fall into conversation with the stranger. But the stranger stood perfectly silent and still. So still, it got on Henfrey’s nerves. He felt alone in the room and looked up, and there, grey and dim, was the bandaged head. It was so uncanny to Henfrey that for a minute they remained staring blankly at one another. One must say something. Should he remark that the weather was very cold for the time of year?
“The weather-” Henfrey began.
“Why don’t you finish and go?” said the rigid figure, evidently in a state of painfully suppressed rage. “All you’ve got to do is to fix the clock.”
“Certainly, sir-one minute more,” and Mr. Henfrey finished and went.
But he went feeling excessively annoyed.
“Damn it!” said Mr. Henfrey to himself, going through the thawing snow; “seems like the police is wanting him.”
At the corner he saw Hall, who had recently married the stranger’s hostess at the “Coach and Horses.”
“How do you do, Teddy?” he said, passing.
“You got a strange man at home!” said Teddy.
“What’s that?” Hall asked.
“Strange looking customer stopping at the ‘Coach and Horses,’” said Teddy.
And he gave Hall a vivid description of his grotesque guest.
“I’d like to see a man’s face if I had him stopping in my place,” said Henfrey. “But women are very trustful. He’s taken your room and he hasn’t even given his name, Hall.”
“You don’t say so!” said Hall, who was a man of sluggish apprehension.
“Yes,” said Teddy. “For a week. Whatever he is, you can’t get rid of him under the week. And he’s got a lot of luggage, so he says. Let’s hope it won’t be stones in boxes, Hall.”
Henfrey left Hall vaguely suspicious.
“I suppose I must see about this,” said Hall.
Instead of “seeing about it,” however, Hall on his return was severely scorned by his wife, and his mild inquiries were answered snappishly.
“You women don’t know everything,” said Mr. Hall, resolved to ascertain more about the personality of his guest at the earliest possible opportunity. And after the stranger had gone to bed, which he did about half-past nine, Mr. Hall went very aggressively into the parlour and looked very hard at his wife’s furniture, just to show that the stranger wasn’t master there. Then he instructed Mrs. Hall to look very closely at the stranger’s luggage when it came next day.
“Mind your own business, Hall,” said Mrs. Hall, “and I’ll mind mine.”
She
