Chapter 15

That evening, at eight-thirty, Dorian dressed in beautiful clothes and went to a dinner party. It was a small party, got up rather in a hurry by Lady Narborough, who was a very clever woman.

Dorian was one of her especial favourites, and she always told him that she was very glad she had not met him in early life. “I know, my dear, I should have fallen madly in love with you,” she used to say.

Dorian murmured a graceful compliment and looked round the room. He was rather sorry he had come. He did not enjoy the party and did not want to eat anything. He left the food untasted.

“What nonsense people talk about happy marriages!” exclaimed Lord Henry. “A man can be happy with any woman, as long as he does not love her.”

“Ah! what a cynic you are!” cried the old lady. “You must come and dine with me soon again.”

“I like men who have a future and women who have a past,” he answered.

But Dorian did not enjoy the party and did not want to eat anything.

“Are you all right?” asked Lord Henry.

“I am quite well, Harry. I am tired. That is all.”

“By the way, Dorian, were you all right last night? You left last night’s party very early – you left before eleven. What did you do afterwards? Did you go straight home?”

Dorian glanced at him hurriedly and frowned.

“No, Harry,” he said at last, “I did not get home till nearly three.”

“Did you go to the club?”

“Yes,” he answered. Then he bit his lip. “No, I don’t mean that. I didn’t go to the club. I walked about. I forget what I did… How inquisitive you are, Harry! You always want to know what one has been doing. I always want to forget what I have been doing. I went for a walk. I got home about two o’clock in the morning, if you wish to know the exact time. I had left my key at home, and I had to wake the servant. You can ask him if you don’t believe me.”

Lord Henry shrugged his shoulders. “My dear fellow, let us go up to the drawing-room. Something has happened to you, Dorian. Tell me what it is. You are not yourself tonight.”

“Don’t mind me, Harry. I am irritable, and out of temper. I shall see you tomorrow, or next day. Make my excuses to Lady Narborough. I shan’t go upstairs. I shall go home. I must go home.”

“All right, Dorian. I dare say I shall see you tomorrow at tea-time.”

“I will try to be there, Harry,” he said, leaving the room.

When Dorian got home, he knew he had to do something terrible. He had to burn Basil’s coat and suitcase, so that nobody would find out the truth about Basil’s death. People thought Basil had gone to Paris. Nobody expected to see him for six months.

The coat and suitcase smelt horrible when he burnt them. Dorian felt very unhappy. He wanted to leave the house and forget everything.

At midnight, Dorian went out and found a cab. He told the cab driver quietly where he wanted to go.

The man shook his head. He looked frightened. “It’s too far. I can’t go there at this time of night,” he said.

“Here’s a pound for you,” said Dorian, “and I’ll give you another one if you drive fast.”

“All right, sir. We’ll be there in an hour,” said the driver. Then he made the horse pull the cab fast along the streets. The cab went east – towards the River Thames.

Chapter 16

It was another foggy, dark night in London. The light of street lamps shone through the fog. Cold rain began to fall. Men and women were walking home along the streets. Dorian heard screams and shouts and horrible laughter.

Often, after midnight, Dorian Gray went to places at the end of dark streets. There were no windows and no lights on the outside of these places, and only the most frightening kinds of people went there. They served drinks, and there were dark secret rooms where Dorian could go to forget his ugly past.

Dorian sat back on the seat of the cab, watching. He hated London. He hated life. He wanted to forget everything. He wanted opium – the drug that would make him forget everything.

The cab drove on through dirty, poor parts of the city. Near the river the fog disappeared. Dorian left the cab and walked towards the river. The moon was shining on the water. The ships on the river were big and black. The light from street lamps shone down onto the wet road.

Soon he reached a small, dirty house. Inside the house it was dark. A dirty green curtain hung over a doorway. Dorian went through the doorway and into a long room. At the end of the room there was a little staircase, leading to a darkened chamber.

A few men were drinking. A sailor, half-asleep, lay with his head on a table. Two women were arguing. Dorian went through this room and up some stairs to another one. He could smell opium and he smiled with pleasure. Now he could smoke some opium and forget everything.

But then Dorian saw a young man smoking a pipe full of opium. Immediately, Dorian recognized him. It was Adrian Singleton, who had been a friend of Dorian’s.

When Dorian entered, a young man with smooth yellow hair looked up at him and nodded in a hesitating manner.

“You here, Adrian?” muttered Dorian. Adrian Singleton has disappeared, Basil had said. But here was Adrian, in an opium den.

“Where else should I be?” answered Adrian. “Nobody will speak to me now.”

“I thought you had left England.”

“I don’t want anything, it’s no use,” sighed Adrian Singleton. “I don’t care to go back. What does it matter? I am quite happy here.”

“You will write to me if you want anything, won’t you?” said Dorian, after a pause. “Good night, then.”

“Good night,” answered the young man.

Dorian went quickly back to the first room. He did not want to see anyone he knew. He would go to another opium den. As he went back through the green curtain a voice called after him. One of the women was shouting.

“Look at him! There he is – Prince Charming!”

Suddenly the drunken sailor lifted his head from the table.

“Don’t talk to me!” shouted Dorian angrily to the woman.

And he ran out of the house. Dorian turned a corner into a narrow, dark street. He was running to another opium den. He was trying to forget about Adrian Singleton. The sailor woke up when he heard the name “Prince Charming” and he followed Dorian outside.

Suddenly a strong hand was round Dorian’s neck. Dorian heard the click of a gun next to his head.

“What do you want?” asked Dorian.

“Keep quiet,” said the man. “Keep quiet or I’ll shoot you!”

“You are mad. What have I done to you?”

“You wrecked the life of Sibyl Vane,” was the answer, “and Sibyl Vane was my sister. She killed herself. I know it. Her death is at your door. I swore I would kill you in return. For years I have sought you. I had no clue, no trace. The two people who could have described you were dead. I knew nothing of you but the pet name she used to call you. I heard it tonight by chance.”

Dorian was afraid. His heart was beating wildly. He did not know what to do. He looked at James Vane and could not move. This man was going to kill him.

Suddenly an idea came to him.

“Stop,” he cried. “How long ago is it since your sister died? Quick, tell me!”

“Eighteen years,” said the man. “Why do you ask me?”

“Eighteen years,” laughed Dorian Gray, with a touch of triumph in his voice. “Eighteen years! Set me under the lamp and look at my face! Eighteen years ago I would have been too young to know your sister.”

James Vane pulled Dorian back to the main street. And in the light of a street lamp, he saw the face of a beautiful young man. It was the face of a young man of about twenty.

“You can’t be the man,” said James Vane. “My God, I was going to murder you. I’m very sorry, sir.”

“You must be more careful. Well, you shouldn’t go around accusing everyone of murder. I’d go home if I were you and get some sleep,” said Dorian. Then he walked away round the corner and into the darkness.

As soon as Dorian had gone, the woman from the opium den ran up to the sailor. “Why didn’t you kill him?” she asked. “He has lots of money, and he’s very bad.”

“He’s not the man I am looking for,” replied James Vane, “and I want no man’s money. I want a man’s life. The man whose life I want must be nearly forty now. This one is little more than a boy. That young man was twenty.”

The woman gave a horrible laugh. “Twenty! Him? Prince Charming? I met Prince Charming eighteen years ago. He looks the same today as he did then. He never changes. That was him.”

“You’re lying!” shouted James Vane.

“No,” said the woman. “He was a beautiful young man eighteen years ago. And he hasn’t changed since then. He’s evil, that one!”

“Swear to God that you’re not lying!”

“I swear I’m not lying,” the woman replied. James Vane believed her. He ran round the corner into the narrow, dark street. But Dorian Gray had disappeared. When he looked back, the woman had vanished also.

Chapter 17

A week later, Dorian was at his house in the country. Dorian Gray had a country home at Selby Royal where he had invited several guests so that they could go hunting and enjoy the beautiful countryside. Many people had come to stay with him. They were rich people who enjoyed talking and eating and drinking, Dorian’s guests also enjoyed shooting – shooting birds and animals.

One evening, Dorian was with Lord Henry and another friend, pretty Duchess of Monmouth, who with her husband, a man of sixty, was amongst his guests. Lord Henry was laughing and saying clever things as he usually did. Lady Monmouth was laughing and listening to Harry. Dorian was listening too.

“Romance lives by repetition,” said Lord Henry, “and repetition converts an appetite into an art. The secret of life is to reproduce the experience as often as possible.”

“Even when one has been wounded by it, Harry?” asked the duchess after a pause.

“Especially when one has been wounded by it,” answered Lord Henry.

The duchess turned and looked at Dorian Gray with a curious expression in her eyes. “What do you say to that, Mr. Gray?” she inquired.

Dorian hesitated for a moment. Then he threw his head back and laughed. “I always agree with Harry, Duchess.”

“Even when he is wrong?”

“Harry is never wrong, Duchess.”

“And does his philosophy make you happy?”

“I have never searched for happiness. Who wants happiness? I have searched for pleasure.”

“And found it, Mr. Gray?”

“Often. Too often.”

The duchess sighed. “I am searching for peace,” she said, “I must leave you now, I want to change my dress before we have dinner.”

“Let me get you some flowers. You can wear them on your dress,” said Dorian getting up from his chair and leaving the room.

“Oh,” said Lady Monmouth, “I hope he gets me flowers that will look right with the colour of my dress.”

“Let’s follow him,” replied Lord Henry, “and you can tell him the colour of your dress.”

As they left the room, Lord Henry and Lady Monmouth suddenly heard a crash.

In the next room they found Dorian. He was lying on the floor next to a window. He had fainted.

Dorian soon opened his eyes, but his body was shaking and his face was very pale.

“What has happened?” he asked. “Oh! I remember. Am I safe here, Harry?” He began to tremble.

“Are you ill, dear boy?” asked Harry. “You fainted. You must go and lie down.”

“No,” said Dorian quickly. “I don’t want to lie down. I don’t want to be alone.”

So Dorian had dinner with his guests. He talked and laughed with them. He made jokes and told stories.

But he was remembering the white face looking at him through the window. It had been the face of James Vane watching him!