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diff --git a/20633-h/20633-h.htm b/20633-h/20633-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..24db39e --- /dev/null +++ b/20633-h/20633-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7531 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Winsome Winnie, by Stephen Leacock. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + span.pagenum {position: absolute; + right: 1%; + color: gray; background-color: inherit; + font-variant: normal; + font-style: normal; + font-size: smaller;} + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + .innerbox {border-bottom: solid 2px; + border-top: solid 2px;} + .puff {margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 5%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .tb {text-align: center; + letter-spacing: 2.5em;} + ul.TOC { /* TOC as a whole, or any sub-list of sub-topics in it */ + list-style-type: none; /*list with no symbol */ + position: relative; /*makes a "container" for span.tocright */ + width: 83%; /*page-number margin pulls in */ + margin: auto; + } + span.tocright { /* use absolute positioning to move page# right */ + position: absolute; right: 0; top: auto; + } + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Winsome Winnie and other New Nonsense Novels, by +Stephen Leacock + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Winsome Winnie and other New Nonsense Novels + +Author: Stephen Leacock + +Release Date: February 20, 2007 [EBook #20633] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINSOME WINNIE AND OTHERS *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<div class="innerbox" style="margin: auto"> +<p class="center">WINSOME WINNIE <br /> +<i>AND OTHER NEW +NONSENSE NOVELS</i></p> +</div> +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<div style="margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 25%; text-align: center" class="bbox"> +<i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</i><br /> +<div class="innerbox"> +<div style="margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: left; border-top: 0em; border-bottom: solid 2px"> +<br /> +THE HOHENZOLLERNS IN AMERICA +AND OTHER IMPOSSIBILITIES<br /> +<br /> +LITERARY LAPSES<br /> +<br /> +NONSENSE NOVELS<br /> +<br /> +SUNSHINE SKETCHES OF A LITTLE +TOWN. With a Frontispiece by Cyrus Cuneo<br /> +<br /> +BEHIND THE BEYOND AND OTHER +CONTRIBUTIONS TO HUMAN +KNOWLEDGE. With 17 Illustrations +by "<span class="smcap">Fish</span>"<br /> +<br /> +ARCADIAN ADVENTURES WITH +THE IDLE RICH<br /> +<br /> +MOONBEAMS FROM THE LARGER +LUNACY<br /> +<br /> +ESSAYS AND LITERARY STUDIES<br /> +<br /> +FURTHER FOOLISHNESS: SKETCHES +AND SATIRES ON THE FOLLIES +OF THE DAY. With coloured Frontispiece +by "<span class="smcap">Fish</span>" and 5 other Plates by +<span class="smcap">M. Blood</span>.<br /> +<br /> +FRENZIED FICTION<br /> +<br /> +THE UNSOLVED RIDDLE OF SOCIAL +JUSTICE.<br /><br /> +</div> +</div> +THE BODLEY HEAD +</div><p><br /><br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<h2>WINSOME WINNIE</h2> +<h3>AND OTHER NEW<br /> +NONSENSE NOVELS</h3> + +<h3>BY STEPHEN LEACOCK</h3> +<p><br /> +<br /> +<br /></p> +<p class="center"><i>LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD<br /> +NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY MCMXXI</i></p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"> +<br /> +<br /><i>Printed in Great Britain by R. Clay & Sons, Ltd., London and Bungay</i> +<br /> +<br /></p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><i>CONTENTS</i></h3> + + +<ul class="TOC"><li><span class="smcap">Chap.</span><span class="tocright">Page</span></li> +<li><i><a href="#I">I</a>. WINSOME WINNIE; OR, TRIAL AND TEMPTATION</i> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></span></li> +<li><ul style="list-style-type:none"> +<li><a href="#I_I">I</a>. <span class="smcap">Thrown on the World</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#I_II">II</a>. <span class="smcap">A Rencounter</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#I_III">III</a>. <span class="smcap">Friends in Distress</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#I_IV">IV</a>. <span class="smcap">A Gambling Party in St. James's Close</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#I_V">V</a>. <span class="smcap">The Abduction</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#I_VI">VI</a>. <span class="smcap">The Unknown</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#I_VII">VII</a>. <span class="smcap">The Proposal</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#I_VIII">VIII</a>. <span class="smcap">Wedded at Last</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></span></li> +</ul></li> + +<li><i><a href="#II">II</a>. JOHN AND I; OR, HOW I NEARLY LOST MY HUSBAND</i> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></span></li> +<li><i><a href="#III">III</a>. THE SPLIT IN THE CABINET; OR, THE FATE OF ENGLAND</i> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></span></li> +<li><i><a href="#IV">IV</a>. WHO DO YOU THINK DID IT? OR, THE MIXED-UP MURDER MYSTERY</i> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></span></li> +<li> +<ul style="list-style-type:none"> +<li><a href="#IV_I">I</a>. <span class="smcap">He Dined with Me Last Night</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#IV_II">II</a>. <span class="smcap">I must save her Life</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#IV_III">III</a>. <span class="smcap">I must buy a Book on Billiards</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#IV_IV">IV</a>. <span class="smcap">That is not Billiard Chalk</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#IV_V">V</a>. <span class="smcap">Has anybody here seen Kelly?</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#IV_VI">VI</a>. <span class="smcap">Show me the Man who wore those Boots</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#IV_VII">VII</a>. <span class="smcap">Oh, Mr. Kent, save me!</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#IV_VIII">VIII</a>. <span class="smcap">You are Peter Kelly</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#IV_IX">IX</a>. <span class="smcap">Let me tell you the Story of my Life</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#IV_X">X</a>. <span class="smcap">So do I</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></span></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li><i><a href="#V">V.</a> BROKEN BARRIERS; OR, RED LOVE ON A BLUE ISLAND</i> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></span></li> +<li><i><a href="#VI">VI</a>. THE KIDNAPPED PLUMBER: A TALE OF THE NEW TIME</i> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></span></li> +<li><i><a href="#VII">VII.</a> THE BLUE AND THE GREY: A PRE-WAR WAR STORY</i> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></span></li> +<li><i><a href="#VIII">VIII</a>. BUGGAM GRANGE: A GOOD OLD GHOST STORY</i> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></span></li> + +</ul> +<p> +<br /> +<br /> +</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> +<div class="innerbox"> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> + +<h3><i>WINSOME WINNIE</i></h3> + +<h4><i>OR, TRIAL AND TEMPTATION</i></h4> + +<p class="center">(<i>Narrated after the best models of 1875</i>)</p> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="I_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<h4>THROWN ON THE WORLD</h4> + +<p>"Miss Winnifred," said the Old +Lawyer, looking keenly over and +through his shaggy eyebrows at +the fair young creature seated +before him, "you are this morning twenty-one."</p> + +<p>Winnifred Clair raised her deep mourning +veil, lowered her eyes and folded her hands.</p> + +<p>"This morning," continued Mr. Bonehead, +"my guardianship is at an end."</p> + +<p>There was a tone of something like emotion +in the voice of the stern old lawyer, while for +a moment his eye glistened with something +like a tear which he hastened to remove with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +something like a handkerchief. "I have therefore +sent for you," he went on, "to render you +an account of my trust."</p> + +<p>He heaved a sigh at her, and then, reaching +out his hand, he pulled the woollen bell-rope +up and down several times.</p> + +<p>An aged clerk appeared.</p> + +<p>"Did the bell ring?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I think it did," said the Lawyer. "Be good +enough, Atkinson, to fetch me the papers of +the estate of the late Major Clair defunct."</p> + +<p>"I have them here," said the clerk, and he +laid upon the table a bundle of faded blue +papers, and withdrew.</p> + +<p>"Miss Winnifred," resumed the Old Lawyer, +"I will now proceed to give you an account of +the disposition that has been made of your +property. This first document refers to the +sum of two thousand pounds left to you by +your great uncle. It is lost."</p> + +<p>Winnifred bowed.</p> + +<p>"Pray give me your best attention and I will +endeavour to explain to you how I lost it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir," cried Winnifred, "I am only a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +poor girl unskilled in the ways of the world, +and knowing nothing but music and French; I +fear that the details of business are beyond my +grasp. But if it is lost, I gather that it is +gone."</p> + +<p>"It is," said Mr. Bonehead. "I lost it in a +marginal option in an undeveloped oil company. +I suppose that means nothing to you."</p> + +<p>"Alas," sighed Winnifred, "nothing."</p> + +<p>"Very good," resumed the Lawyer. "Here +next we have a statement in regard to the +thousand pounds left you under the will of +your maternal grandmother. I lost it at Monte +Carlo. But I need not fatigue you with the +details."</p> + +<p>"Pray spare them," cried the girl.</p> + +<p>"This final item relates to the sum of fifteen +hundred pounds placed in trust for you by your +uncle. I lost it on a horse race. That horse," +added the Old Lawyer with rising excitement, +"ought to have won. He was coming down the +stretch like blue—but there, there, my dear, +you must forgive me if the recollection of it +still stirs me to anger. Suffice it to say the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +horse fell. I have kept for your inspection +the score card of the race, and the betting +tickets. You will find everything in order."</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Winnifred, as Mr. Bonehead +proceeded to fold up his papers, "I am but a +poor inadequate girl, a mere child in business, +but tell me, I pray, what is left to me of the +money that you have managed?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said the Lawyer. "Everything +is gone. And I regret to say, Miss Clair, that +it is my painful duty to convey to you a further +disclosure of a distressing nature. It concerns +your birth."</p> + +<p>"Just Heaven!" cried Winnifred, with a +woman's quick intuition. "Does it concern +my father?"</p> + +<p>"It does, Miss Clair. Your father was not +your father."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir," exclaimed Winnifred. "My poor +mother! How she must have suffered!"</p> + +<p>"Your mother was not your mother," said +the Old Lawyer gravely. "Nay, nay, do not +question me. There is a dark secret about +your birth."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Alas," said Winnifred, wringing her hands, +"I am, then, alone in the world and penniless."</p> + +<p>"You are," said Mr. Bonehead, deeply +moved. "You are, unfortunately, thrown upon +the world. But, if you ever find yourself in a +position where you need help and advice, do +not scruple to come to me. Especially," he +added, "for advice. And meantime let me ask +you in what way do you propose to earn your +livelihood?"</p> + +<p>"I have my needle," said Winnifred.</p> + +<p>"Let me see it," said the Lawyer.</p> + +<p>Winnifred showed it to him.</p> + +<p>"I fear," said Mr. Bonehead, shaking his +head, "you will not do much with that."</p> + +<p>Then he rang the bell again.</p> + +<p>"Atkinson," he said, "take Miss Clair out +and throw her on the world."<br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="I_II" id="I_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<h4>A RENCOUNTER</h4> + + +<p>As Winnifred Clair passed down the stairway +leading from the Lawyer's office, a figure +appeared before her in the corridor, blocking +the way. It was that of a tall, aristocratic-looking +man, whose features wore that peculiarly +saturnine appearance seen only in the English +nobility. The face, while entirely gentlemanly +in its general aspect, was stamped with all the +worst passions of mankind.</p> + +<p>Had the innocent girl but known it, the face +was that of Lord Wynchgate, one of the most +contemptible of the greater nobility of Britain, +and the figure was his too.</p> + +<p>"Ha!" exclaimed the dissolute Aristocrat, +"whom have we here? Stay, pretty one, and +let me see the fair countenance that I divine +behind your veil."</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Winnifred, drawing herself up +proudly, "let me pass, I pray."</p> + +<p>"Not so," cried Wynchgate, reaching out and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +seizing his intended victim by the wrist, "not +till I have at least seen the colour of those eyes +and imprinted a kiss upon those fair lips."</p> + +<p>With a brutal laugh, he drew the struggling +girl towards him.</p> + +<p>In another moment the aristocratic villain +would have succeeded in lifting the veil of the +unhappy girl, when suddenly a ringing voice +cried, "Hold! stop! desist! begone! lay to! +cut it out!"</p> + +<p>With these words a tall, athletic young man, +attracted doubtless by the girl's cries, leapt +into the corridor from the street without. His +figure was that, more or less, of a Greek god, +while his face, although at the moment inflamed +with anger, was of an entirely moral +and permissible configuration.</p> + +<p>"Save me! save me!" cried Winnifred.</p> + +<p>"I will," cried the Stranger, rushing towards +Lord Wynchgate with uplifted cane.</p> + +<p>But the cowardly Aristocrat did not await +the onslaught of the unknown.</p> + +<p>"You shall yet be mine!" he hissed in +Winnifred's ear, and, releasing his grasp, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +rushed with a bound past the rescuer into +the street.</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir," said Winnifred, clasping her +hands and falling on her knees in gratitude. +"I am only a poor inadequate girl, but if the +prayers of one who can offer naught but her +prayers to her benefactor can avail to the +advantage of one who appears to have every +conceivable advantage already, let him know +that they are his."</p> + +<p>"Nay," said the stranger, as he aided the +blushing girl to rise, "kneel not to me, I beseech. +If I have done aught to deserve the +gratitude of one who, whoever she is, will remain +for ever present as a bright memory in the +breast of one in whose breast such memories are +all too few, he is all too richly repaid. If she +does that, he is blessed indeed."</p> + +<p>"She does. He is!" cried Winnifred, deeply +moved. "Here on her knees she blesses him. +And now," she added, "we must part. Seek +not to follow me. One who has aided a poor +girl in the hour of need will respect her wish +when she tells him that, alone and buffeted by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +the world, her one prayer is that he will leave +her."</p> + +<p>"He will!" cried the Unknown. "He +will. He does."</p> + +<p>"Leave me, yes, leave me," exclaimed +Winnifred.</p> + +<p>"I will," said the Unknown.</p> + +<p>"Do, do," sobbed the distraught girl. "Yet +stay, one moment more. Let she, who has +received so much from her benefactor, at least +know his name."</p> + +<p>"He cannot! He must not!" exclaimed +the Indistinguishable. "His birth is such—but +enough!"</p> + +<p>He tore his hand from the girl's detaining +clasp and rushed forth from the place.</p> + +<p>Winnifred Clair was alone. +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="I_III" id="I_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<h4>FRIENDS IN DISTRESS</h4> + + +<p>Winnifred was now in the humblest lodgings +in the humblest part of London. A +simple bedroom and sitting-room sufficed for +her wants. Here she sat on her trunk, bravely +planning for the future.</p> + +<p>"Miss Clair," said the Landlady, knocking +at the door, "do try to eat something. You +must keep up your health. See, I've brought +you a kippered herring."</p> + +<p>Winnifred ate the herring, her heart filled +with gratitude. With renewed strength she +sallied forth on the street to resume her vain +search for employment. For two weeks now +Winnifred Clair had sought employment even +of the humblest character. At various dress-making +establishments she had offered, to no +purpose, the services of her needle. They had +looked at it and refused it.</p> + +<p>In vain she had offered to various editors +and publishers the use of her pen. They had +examined it coldly and refused it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p>She had tried fruitlessly to obtain a position +of trust. The various banks and trust companies +to which she had applied declined her +services. In vain she had advertised in the +newspapers offering to take sole charge of a +little girl. No one would give her one.</p> + +<p>Her slender stock of money which she had +in her purse on leaving Mr. Bonehead's office +was almost consumed.</p> + +<p>Each night the unhappy girl returned to her +lodging exhausted with disappointment and +fatigue.</p> + +<p>Yet even in her adversity she was not +altogether friendless.</p> + +<p>Each evening, on her return home, a soft +tap was heard at the door.</p> + +<p>"Miss Clair," said the voice of the Landlady, +"I have brought you a fried egg. Eat it. +You must keep up your strength."</p> + +<p>Then one morning a terrible temptation had +risen before her.</p> + +<p>"Miss Clair," said the manager of an agency +to which she had applied, "I am glad to be able +at last to make you a definite offer of employ<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>ment. +Are you prepared to go upon the +stage?"</p> + +<p>The stage!</p> + +<p>A flush of shame and indignation swept over +the girl. Had it come to this? Little versed +in the world as Winnifred was, she knew but +too well the horror, the iniquity, the depth of +degradation implied in the word.</p> + +<p>"Yes," continued the agent, "I have a letter +here asking me to recommend a young lady of +suitable refinement to play the part of Eliza in +<i>Uncle Tom's Cabin</i>. Will you accept?"</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Winnifred proudly, "answer me +first this question fairly. If I go upon the +stage, can I, as Eliza, remain as innocent, as +simple as I am now?"</p> + +<p>"You can not," said the manager.</p> + +<p>"Then, sir," said Winnifred, rising from her +chair, "let me say this. Your offer is doubtless +intended to be kind. Coming from the +class you do, and inspired by the ideas you are, +you no doubt mean well. But let a poor girl, +friendless and alone, tell you that rather than +accept such a degradation she will die."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Very good," said the manager.</p> + +<p>"I go forth," cried Winnifred, "to perish."</p> + +<p>"All right," said the manager.</p> + +<p>The door closed behind her. Winnifred +Clair, once more upon the street, sank down +upon the steps of the building in a swoon.</p> + +<p>But at this very juncture Providence, which +always watches over the innocent and defenceless, +was keeping its eye direct upon Winnifred.</p> + +<p>At that very moment when our heroine +sank fainting upon the doorstep, a handsome +equipage, drawn by two superb black steeds, +happened to pass along the street.</p> + +<p>Its appearance and character proclaimed it +at once to be one of those vehicles in which +only the superior classes of the exclusive +aristocracy are privileged to ride. Its sides +were emblazoned with escutcheons, insignia +and other paraphernalia. The large gilt +coronet that appeared up its panelling, surmounted +by a bunch of huckleberries, quartered +in a field of potatoes, indicated that its possessor +was, at least, of the rank of marquis. +A coachman and two grooms rode in front,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +while two footmen, seated in the boot, or box +at the rear, contrived, by the immobility of +their attitude and the melancholy of their faces, +to inspire the scene with an exclusive and +aristocratic grandeur.</p> + +<p>The occupants of the equipage—for we refuse +to count the menials as being such—were +two in number, a lady and gentleman, both +of advanced years. Their snow-white hair +and benign countenances indicated that they +belonged to that rare class of beings to whom +rank and wealth are but an incentive to nobler +things. A gentle philanthropy played all over +their faces, and their eyes sought eagerly in +the passing scene of the humble street for +new objects of benefaction.</p> + +<p>Those acquainted with the countenances of +the aristocracy would have recognized at +once in the occupants of the equipage the +Marquis of Muddlenut and his spouse, the +Marchioness.</p> + +<p>It was the eye of the Marchioness which +first detected the form of Winnifred Clair upon +the doorstep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hold! pause! stop!" she cried, in lively +agitation.</p> + +<p>The horses were at once pulled in, the brakes +applied to the wheels, and with the aid of +a powerful lever, operated by three of the +menials, the carriage was brought to a standstill.</p> + +<p>"See! Look!" cried the Marchioness. +"She has fainted. Quick, William, your flask. +Let us hasten to her aid."</p> + +<p>In another moment the noble lady was +bending over the prostrate form of Winnifred +Clair, and pouring brandy between her lips.</p> + +<p>Winnifred opened her eyes. "Where am +I?" she asked feebly.</p> + +<p>"She speaks!" cried the Marchioness. +"Give her another flaskful."</p> + +<p>After the second flask the girl sat up.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," she cried, clasping her hands, +"what has happened? Where am I?"</p> + +<p>"With friends!" answered the Marchioness. +"But do not essay to speak. Drink this. You +must husband your strength. Meantime, let +us drive you to your home."</p> + +<p>Winnifred was lifted tenderly by the men-servants +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +into the aristocratic equipage. The +brake was unset, the lever reversed, and the +carriage thrown again into motion.</p> + +<p>On the way Winnifred, at the solicitation of +the Marchioness, related her story.</p> + +<p>"My poor child!" exclaimed the lady, "how +you must have suffered. Thank Heaven it is +over now. To-morrow we shall call for you +and bring you away with us to Muddlenut +Chase."</p> + +<p>Alas, could she but have known it, before +the morrow should dawn, worse dangers still +were in store for our heroine. But what these +dangers were, we must reserve for another +chapter.<br /> +<br /> +</p> + +<h3><a name="I_IV" id="I_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<h4>A GAMBLING PARTY IN ST. JAMES'S CLOSE</h4> + + +<p>We must now ask our readers to shift the +scene—if they don't mind doing this for us—to +the apartments of the Earl of Wynchgate in +St. James's Close. The hour is nine o'clock +in the evening, and the picture before us is one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +of revelry and dissipation so characteristic of +the nobility of England. The atmosphere of +the room is thick with blue Havana smoke such +as is used by the nobility, while on the green +baize table a litter of counters and cards, in +which aces, kings, and even two spots are +heaped in confusion, proclaim the reckless +nature of the play.</p> + +<p>Seated about the table are six men, dressed +in the height of fashion, each with collar and +white necktie and broad white shirt, their faces +stamped with all, or nearly all, of the baser +passions of mankind.</p> + +<p>Lord Wynchgate—for he it was who sat at +the head of the table—rose with an oath, and +flung his cards upon the table.</p> + +<p>All turned and looked at him, with an oath. +"Curse it, Dogwood," he exclaimed, with +another oath, to the man who sat beside him. +"Take the money. I play no more to-night. +My luck is out."</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha!" laughed Lord Dogwood, with +a third oath, "your mind is not on the cards. +Who is the latest young beauty, pray, who so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +absorbs you? I hear a whisper in town of a +certain misadventure of yours——"</p> + +<p>"Dogwood," said Wynchgate, clenching his +fist, "have a care, man, or you shall measure +the length of my sword."</p> + +<p>Both noblemen faced each other, their hands +upon their swords.</p> + +<p>"My lords, my lords!" pleaded a distinguished-looking +man of more advanced years, +who sat at one side of the table, and in whose +features the habitués of diplomatic circles +would have recognized the handsome lineaments +of the Marquis of Frogwater, British +Ambassador to Siam, "let us have no quarrelling. +Come, Wynchgate, come, Dogwood," +he continued, with a mild oath, "put up your +swords. It were a shame to waste time in +private quarrelling. They may be needed all +too soon in Cochin China, or, for the matter of +that," he added sadly, "in Cambodia or in +Dutch Guinea."</p> + +<p>"Frogwater," said young Lord Dogwood, +with a generous flush, "I was wrong. Wynchgate, +your hand."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<p>The two noblemen shook hands.</p> + +<p>"My friends," said Lord Wynchgate, "in +asking you to abandon our game, I had an end +in view. I ask your help in an affair of the +heart."</p> + +<p>"Ha! excellent!" exclaimed the five noblemen. +"We are with you heart and soul."</p> + +<p>"I propose this night," continued Wynchgate, +"with your help, to carry off a young girl, a +female!"</p> + +<p>"An abduction!" exclaimed the Ambassador +somewhat sternly. "Wynchgate, I cannot +countenance this."</p> + +<p>"Mistake me not," said the Earl, "I intend +to abduct her. But I propose nothing dishonourable. +It is my firm resolve to offer her +marriage."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Lord Frogwater, "I am with +you."</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," concluded Wynchgate, "all is +ready. The coach is below. I have provided +masks, pistols, and black cloaks. Follow me."</p> + +<p>A few moments later, a coach, with the +blinds drawn, in which were six noblemen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +armed to the teeth, might have been seen, were +it not for the darkness, approaching the humble +lodging in which Winnifred Clair was sheltered.</p> + +<p>But what it did when it got there, we must +leave to another chapter. +<br /> +<br /> +</p> + + +<h3><a name="I_V" id="I_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<h4>THE ABDUCTION</h4> + + +<p>The hour was twenty minutes to ten on the +evening described in our last chapter.</p> + +<p>Winnifred Clair was seated, still fully +dressed, at the window of the bedroom, looking +out over the great city.</p> + +<p>A light tap came at the door.</p> + +<p>"If it's a fried egg," called Winnifred softly, +"I do not need it. I ate yesterday."</p> + +<p>"No," said the voice of the Landlady. "You +are wanted below."</p> + +<p>"I!" exclaimed Winnifred, "below!"</p> + +<p>"You," said the Landlady, "below. A party +of gentlemen have called for you."</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," exclaimed Winnifred, putting her hand to her brow in +perplexity, "for me! at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> this late hour! Here! This evening! In this +house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," repeated the Landlady, "six gentlemen. They arrived in a closed +coach. They are all closely masked and heavily armed. They beg you will +descend at once."</p> + +<p>"Just Heaven!" cried the Unhappy Girl. "Is it possible that they mean to +abduct me?"</p> + +<p>"They do," said the Landlady. "They said so!"</p> + +<p>"Alas!" cried Winnifred, "I am powerless. Tell them"—she +hesitated—"tell them I will be down immediately. Let them not come up. +Keep them below on any pretext. Show them an album. Let them look at the +goldfish. Anything, but not here! I shall be ready in a moment."</p> + +<p>Feverishly she made herself ready. As +hastily as possible she removed all traces of +tears from her face. She threw about her +shoulders an opera cloak, and with a light +Venetian scarf half concealed the beauty of her +hair and features. "Abducted!" she murmured, +"and by six of them! I think she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +said six. Oh, the horror of it!" A touch of +powder to her cheeks and a slight blackening of +her eyebrows, and the courageous girl was ready.</p> + +<p>Lord Wynchgate and his companions—for +they it was, that is to say, they were it—sat +below in the sitting-room looking at the albums. +"Woman," said Lord Wynchgate to the Landlady, +with an oath, "let her hurry up. We have +seen enough of these. We can wait no longer."</p> + +<p>"I am here," cried a clear voice upon the +threshold, and Winnifred stood before them. +"My lords, for I divine who you are and wherefore +you have come, take me, do your worst +with me, but spare, oh, spare this humble +companion of my sorrow."</p> + +<p>"Right-oh!" said Lord Dogwood, with a +brutal laugh.</p> + +<p>"Enough," exclaimed Wynchgate, and seizing +Winnifred by the waist, he dragged her +forth out of the house and out upon the street.</p> + +<p>But something in the brutal violence of his +behaviour seemed to kindle for the moment a +spark of manly feeling, if such there were, in +the breasts of his companions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wynchgate," cried young Lord Dogwood, +"my mind misgives me. I doubt if this is a +gentlemanly thing to do. I'll have no further +hand in it."</p> + +<p>A chorus of approval from his companions +endorsed his utterance. For a moment they +hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Nay," cried Winnifred, turning to confront +the masked faces that stood about her, "go +forward with your fell design. I am here. I +am helpless. Let no prayers stay your hand. +Go to it."</p> + +<p>"Have done with this!" cried Wynchgate, +with a brutal oath. "Shove her in the coach."</p> + +<p>But at the very moment the sound of hurrying +footsteps was heard, and a clear, ringing, +manly, well-toned, vibrating voice cried, "Hold! +Stop! Desist! Have a care, titled villain, or +I will strike you to the earth."</p> + +<p>A tall aristocratic form bounded out of the +darkness.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," cried Wynchgate, releasing +his hold upon the frightened girl, "we are +betrayed. Save yourselves. To the coach."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>In another instant the six noblemen had +leaped into the coach and disappeared down +the street.</p> + +<p>Winnifred, still half inanimate with fright, +turned to her rescuer, and saw before her the +form and lineaments of the Unknown Stranger, +who had thus twice stood between her and +disaster. Half fainting, she fell swooning into +his arms.</p> + +<p>"Dear lady," he exclaimed, "rouse yourself. +You are safe. Let me restore you to your +home!"</p> + +<p>"That voice!" cried Winnifred, resuming +consciousness. "It is my benefactor."</p> + +<p>She would have swooned again, but the +Unknown lifted her bodily up the steps of +her home and leant her against the door.</p> + +<p>"Farewell," he said, in a voice resonant with +gloom.</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir!" cried the unhappy girl, "let +one who owes so much to one who has saved +her in her hour of need at least know his +name."</p> + +<p>But the stranger, with a mournful gesture<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +of farewell, had disappeared as rapidly as he +had come.</p> + +<p>But, as to why he had disappeared, we must +ask our reader's patience for another chapter. +<br /> +<br /> +</p> + + +<h3><a name="I_VI" id="I_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h3> + +<h4>THE UNKNOWN</h4> + + +<p>The scene is now shifted, sideways and forwards, +so as to put it at Muddlenut Chase, and +to make it a fortnight later than the events +related in the last chapter.</p> + +<p>Winnifred is now at the Chase as the guest +of the Marquis and Marchioness. There her +bruised soul finds peace.</p> + +<p>The Chase itself was one of those typical +country homes which are, or were till yesterday, +the glory of England. The approach to +the Chase lay through twenty miles of glorious +forest, filled with fallow deer and wild bulls. +The house itself, dating from the time of +the Plantagenets, was surrounded by a moat +covered with broad lilies and floating green +scum. Magnificent peacocks sunned themselves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +on the terraces, while from the surrounding +shrubberies there rose the soft murmur of +doves, pigeons, bats, owls and partridges.</p> + +<p>Here sat Winnifred Clair day after day +upon the terrace recovering her strength, under +the tender solicitude of the Marchioness.</p> + +<p>Each day the girl urged upon her noble +hostess the necessity of her departure. "Nay," +said the Marchioness, with gentle insistence, +"stay where you are. Your soul is bruised. +You must rest."</p> + +<p>"Alas," cried Winnifred, "who am I that +I should rest? Alone, despised, buffeted by +fate, what right have I to your kindness?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Clair," replied the noble lady, "wait +till you are stronger. There is something that +I wish to say to you."</p> + +<p>Then at last, one morning when Winnifred's +temperature had fallen to ninety-eight point +three, the Marchioness spoke.</p> + +<p>"Miss Clair," she said, in a voice which +throbbed with emotion, "Winnifred, if I may +so call you, Lord Muddlenut and I have +formed a plan for your future. It is our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +dearest wish that you should marry our +son."</p> + +<p>"Alas," cried Winnifred, while tears rose +in her eyes, "it cannot be!"</p> + +<p>"Say not so," cried the Marchioness. "Our +son, Lord Mordaunt Muddlenut, is young, +handsome, all that a girl could desire. After +months of wandering he returns to us this morning. +It is our dearest wish to see him married +and established. We offer you his hand."</p> + +<p>"Indeed," replied Winnifred, while her tears +fell even more freely, "I seem to requite but +ill the kindness that you show. Alas, my +heart is no longer in my keeping."</p> + +<p>"Where is it?" cried the Marchioness.</p> + +<p>"It is another's. One whose very name I +do not know holds it in his keeping."</p> + +<p>But at this moment a blithe, gladsome step +was heard upon the flagstones of the terrace. +A manly, ringing voice, which sent a thrill to +Winnifred's heart, cried "Mother!" and in +another instant Lord Mordaunt Muddlenut, +for he it was, had folded the Marchioness to +his heart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<p>Winnifred rose, her heart beating wildly. +One glance was enough. The newcomer, Lord +Mordaunt, was none other than the Unknown, +the Unaccountable, to whose protection she +had twice owed her life.</p> + +<p>With a wild cry Winnifred Clair leaped +across the flagstones of the terrace and fled +into the park. +<br /> +<br /> +</p> + + +<h3><a name="I_VII" id="I_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h3> + +<h4>THE PROPOSAL</h4> + + +<p>They stood beneath the great trees of the +ancestral park, into which Lord Mordaunt had +followed Winnifred at a single bound. All +about them was the radiance of early June.</p> + +<p>Lord Mordaunt knelt on one knee on the +greensward, and with a touch in which respect +and reverence were mingled with the deepest +and manliest emotion, he took between his +finger and thumb the tip of the girl's gloved +hand.</p> + +<p>"Miss Clair," he uttered, in a voice suffused +with the deepest yearning, yet vibrating with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +the most profound respect, "Miss Clair—Winnifred—hear +me, I implore!"</p> + +<p>"Alas," cried Winnifred, struggling in vain +to disengage the tip of her glove from the impetuous +clasp of the young nobleman, "alas, +whither can I fly? I do not know my way +through the wood, and there are bulls in all +directions. I am not used to them! Lord +Mordaunt, I implore you, let the tears of +one but little skilled in the art of dissimulation——"</p> + +<p>"Nay, Winnifred," said the Young Earl, +"fly not. Hear me out!"</p> + +<p>"Let me fly," begged the unhappy girl.</p> + +<p>"You must not fly," pleaded Mordaunt. +"Let me first, here upon bended knee, convey +to you the expression of a devotion, a love, as +ardent and as deep as ever burned in a human +heart. Winnifred, be my bride!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir," sobbed Winnifred, "if the knowledge +of a gratitude, a thankfulness from one +whose heart will ever treasure as its proudest +memory the recollection of one who did for one +all that one could have wanted done for one—<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>if +this be some poor guerdon, let it suffice. +But, alas, my birth, the dark secret of my birth +forbids——"</p> + +<p>"Nay," cried Mordaunt, leaping now to his +feet, "your birth is all right. I have looked +into it myself. It is as good—or nearly as +good—as my own. Till I knew this, my lips +were sealed by duty. While I supposed that +you had a lower birth and I an upper, I was +bound to silence. But come with me to the +house. There is one arrived with me who will +explain all."</p> + +<p>Hand in hand the lovers, for such they now +were, returned to the Chase. There in the +great hall the Marquis and the Marchioness +were standing ready to greet them.</p> + +<p>"My child!" exclaimed the noble lady, as +she folded Winnifred to her heart. Then she +turned to her son. "Let her know all!" +she cried.</p> + +<p>Lord Mordaunt stepped across the room to +a curtain. He drew it aside, and there stepped +forth Mr. Bonehead, the old lawyer who had +cast Winnifred upon the world.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Miss Clair," said the Lawyer, advancing +and taking the girl's hand for a moment in a +kindly clasp, "the time has come for me to +explain all. You are not, you never were, the +penniless girl that you suppose. Under the +terms of your father's will, I was called upon +to act a part and to throw you upon the world. +It was my client's wish, and I followed it. I +told you, quite truthfully, that I had put part +of your money into options in an oil-well. +Miss Clair, that well is now producing a +million gallons of gasolene a month!'</p> + +<p>"A million gallons!" cried Winnifred. "I +can never use it."</p> + +<p>"Wait till you own a motor-car, Miss +Winnifred," said the Lawyer.</p> + +<p>"Then I am rich!" exclaimed the bewildered +girl.</p> + +<p>"Rich beyond your dreams," answered the +Lawyer. "Miss Clair, you own in your own +right about half of the State of Texas—I think +it is in Texas, at any rate either Texas or Rhode +Island, or one of those big states in America. +More than this, I have invested your property<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +since your father's death so wisely that even +after paying the income tax and the property +tax, the inheritance tax, the dog tax and the tax +on amusements, you will still have one half of +one per cent to spend."</p> + +<p>Winnifred clasped her hands.</p> + +<p>"I knew it all the time," said Lord Mordaunt, +drawing the girl to his embrace, "I +found it out through this good man."</p> + +<p>"We knew it too," said the Marchioness. +"Can you forgive us, darling, our little plot for +your welfare? Had we not done this Mordaunt +might have had to follow you over to +America and chase you all around Newport +and Narragansett at a fearful expense."</p> + +<p>"How can I thank you enough?" cried +Winnifred. Then she added eagerly, "And +my birth, my descent?"</p> + +<p>"It is all right," interjected the Old Lawyer. +"It is A 1. Your father, who died before you +were born, quite a little time before, belonged +to the very highest peerage of Wales. You +are descended directly from Claer-ap-Claer, +who murdered Owen Glendower. Your mother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +we are still tracing up. But we have already +connected her with Floyd-ap-Floyd, who +murdered Prince Llewellyn."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir," cried the grateful girl. "I only +hope I may prove worthy of them!"</p> + +<p>"One thing more," said Lord Mordaunt, +and stepping over to another curtain he drew +it aside and there emerged Lord Wynchgate.</p> + +<p>He stood before Winnifred, a manly contrition +struggling upon features which, but for +the evil courses of he who wore them, might +have been almost presentable.</p> + +<p>"Miss Clair," he said, "I ask your pardon. +I tried to carry you off. I never will again. +But before we part let me say that my acquaintance +with you has made me a better man, +broader, bigger and, I hope, deeper."</p> + +<p>With a profound bow, Lord Wynchgate +took his leave. +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="I_VIII" id="I_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h3> +<h4>WEDDED AT LAST</h4> + + +<p>Lord Mordaunt and his bride were married +forthwith in the parish church of Muddlenut +Chase. With Winnifred's money they have +drained the moat, rebuilt the Chase, and +chased the bulls out of the park. They have +six children, so far, and are respected, honoured +and revered in the countryside far +and wide, over a radius of twenty miles in +circumference.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> +<div class="innerbox"> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a><i>II</i></h2> + +<h2><i>JOHN AND I</i></h2> + +<h3><i>OR, HOW I NEARLY LOST MY HUSBAND</i></h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>Narrated after the approved fashion of the best +Heart and Home Magazines</i>)</p> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + + +<p>It was after we had been married about +two years that I began to feel that I +needed more air. Every time I looked +at John across the breakfast-table, I felt +as if I must have more air, more space.</p> + +<p>I seemed to feel as if I had no room to +expand. I had begun to ask myself whether +I had been wise in marrying John, whether +John was really sufficient for my development. +I felt cramped and shut in. In spite of myself +the question would arise in my mind whether +John really understood my nature. He had +a way of reading the newspaper, propped up +against the sugar-bowl, at breakfast, that +somehow made me feel as if things had gone +all wrong. It was bitter to realize that the +time had come when John could prefer the +newspaper to his wife's society. + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p>But perhaps I had better go back and tell +the whole miserable story from the beginning.</p> + +<p>I shall never forget—I suppose no woman +ever does—the evening when John first spoke +out his love for me. I had felt for some time +past that it was there. Again and again, he +seemed about to speak. But somehow his +words seemed to fail him. Twice I took him +into the very heart of the little wood beside +Mother's house, but it was only a small wood, +and somehow he slipped out on the other side. +"Oh, John," I had said, "how lonely and still +it seems in the wood with no one here but ourselves! +Do you think," I said, "that the birds +have souls?" "I don't know," John answered, +"let's get out of this." I was sure that his +emotion was too strong for him. "I never +feel a bit lonesome where you are, John," I +said, as we made our way among the underbrush. +"I think we can get out down that +little gully," he answered. Then one evening +in June after tea I led John down a path beside +the house to a little corner behind the garden +where there was a stone wall on one side and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +a high fence right in front of us, and thorn +bushes on the other side. There was a little +bench in the angle of the wall and the fence, +and we sat down on it.</p> + +<p>"Minnie," John said, "there's something I +meant to say——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, John," I cried, and I flung my arms +round his neck. It all came with such a flood +of surprise.</p> + +<p>"All I meant, Minn——" John went on, +but I checked him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't, John, don't say anything more," +I said. "It's just too perfect." Then I rose +and seized him by the wrist. "Come," I said, +"come to Mother," and I rushed him along +the path.</p> + +<p>As soon as Mother saw us come in hand in +hand in this way, she guessed everything. She +threw both her arms round John's neck and +fairly pinned him against the wall. John tried +to speak, but Mother wouldn't let him. "I saw +it all along, John," she said. "Don't speak. +Don't say a word. I guessed your love for +Minn from the very start. I don't know what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +I shall do without her, John, but she's yours +now; take her." Then Mother began to cry +and I couldn't help crying too. "Take him to +Father," Mother said, and we each took one of +John's wrists and took him to Father on the +back verandah. As soon as John saw Father +he tried to speak again—"I think I ought to +say," he began, but Mother stopped him. +"Father," she said, "he wants to take our +little girl away. He loves her very dearly, +Alfred," she said, "and I think it our duty to +let her go, no matter how hard it is, and oh, +please Heaven, Alfred, he'll treat her well and +not misuse her, or beat her," and she began +to sob again.</p> + +<p>Father got up and took John by the hand +and shook it warmly.</p> + +<p>"Take her, boy," he said. "She's all +yours now, take her."</p> + +<p>So John and I were engaged, and in due time +our wedding day came and we were married. +I remember that for days and days before the +wedding day John seemed very nervous and +depressed; I think he was worrying, poor boy,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +as to whether he could really make me happy +and whether he could fill my life as it should +be filled. But I told him that he was not +to worry, because I <i>meant</i> to be happy, and +was determined just to make the best of +everything.</p> + +<p>Father stayed with John a good deal before +the wedding day, and on the wedding morning +he went and fetched him to the church in a +closed carriage and had him there all ready +when we came. It was a beautiful day in +September, and the church looked just lovely. +I had a beautiful gown of white organdie with +<i>tulle</i> at the throat, and I carried a great bunch +of white roses, and Father led John up the aisle +after me.</p> + +<p>I remember that Mother cried a good deal +at the wedding, and told John that he had +stolen her darling and that he must never +misuse me or beat me. And I remember that +the clergyman spoke very severely to John, and +told him he hoped he realized the responsibility +he was taking and that it was his duty to make +me happy. A lot of our old friends were there,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +and they all spoke quite sharply to John, and +all the women kissed me and said they hoped I +would never regret what I had done, and I just +kept up my spirits by sheer determination, and +told them that I had made up my mind to be +happy and that I was going to be so.</p> + +<p>So presently it was all over and we were +driven to the station and got the afternoon +train for New York, and when we sat down +in the compartment among all our bandboxes +and flowers, John said, "Well, thank God, +that's over." And I said, "Oh, John, an oath! +on our wedding day, an oath!" John said, +"I'm sorry, Minn, I didn't mean——" but I said, +"Don't, John, don't make it worse. Swear at +me if you must, but don't make it harder to +bear."</p> + +<p class="tb">* * * * *</p> + +<p>We spent our honeymoon in New York. At +first I had thought of going somewhere to the +great lonely woods, where I could have walked +under the great trees and felt the silence of +nature, and where John should have been my +Viking and captured me with his spear, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +where I should be his and his alone and no +other man should share me; and John had said +all right. Or else I had planned to go away +somewhere to the seashore, where I could have +watched the great waves dashing themselves +against the rocks. I had told John that he +should be my cave man, and should seize me +in his arms and carry me whither he would. +I felt somehow that for my development I +wanted to get as close to nature as ever I could—that +my mind seemed to be reaching out for +a great emptiness. But I looked over all the +hotel and steamship folders I could find and it +seemed impossible to get good accommodation, +so we came to New York. I had a great deal +of shopping to do for our new house, so I could +not be much with John, but I felt it was not +right to neglect him, so I drove him somewhere +in a taxi each morning and called for him again +in the evening. One day I took him to the +Metropolitan Museum, and another day I left +him at the Zoo, and another day at the +aquarium. John seemed very happy and quiet +among the fishes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p>So presently we came back home, and I spent +many busy days in fixing and arranging our new +house. I had the drawing-room done in blue, +and the dining-room all in dark panelled wood, +and a boudoir upstairs done in pink and white +enamel to match my bedroom and dressing-room. +There was a very nice little room in the +basement next to the coal cellar that I turned +into a "den" for John, so that when he wanted +to smoke he could go down there and do it. +John seemed to appreciate his den at once, and +often would stay down there so long that I had +to call to him to come up.</p> + +<p>When I look back on those days they seem +very bright and happy. But it was not very +long before a change came. I began to realize +that John was neglecting me. I noticed it at +first in small things. I don't know just how +long it was after our marriage that John began +to read the newspaper at breakfast. At first +he would only pick it up and read it in little +bits, and only on the front page. I tried not +to be hurt at it, and would go on talking just +as brightly as I could, without seeming to notice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +anything. But presently he went on to reading +the inside part of the paper, and then one day +he opened up the financial page and folded +the paper right back and leant it against the +sugar-bowl.</p> + +<p>I could not but wonder whether John's love +for me was what it had been. Was it cooling? +I asked myself. And what was cooling it? +It hardly seemed possible, when I looked back +to the wild passion with which he had proposed +to me on the garden bench, that John's love +was waning. But I kept noticing different +little things. One day in the spring-time I saw +John getting out a lot of fishing tackle from a +box and fitting it together. I asked him what +he was going to do, and he said that he was +going to fish. I went to my room and had a +good cry. It seemed dreadful that he could +neglect his wife for a few worthless fish.</p> + +<p>So I decided to put John to the test. It had +been my habit every morning after he put his +coat on to go to the office to let John have one +kiss, just one weeny kiss, to keep him happy all +day. So this day when he was getting ready I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +bent my head over a big bowl of flowers and +pretended not to notice. I think John must +have been hurt, as I heard him steal out on +tiptoe.</p> + +<p>Well, I realized that things had come to a +dreadful state, and so I sent over to Mother, +and Mother came, and we had a good cry +together. I made up my mind to force myself +to face things and just to be as bright as ever +I could. Mother and I both thought that +things would be better if I tried all I could to +make something out of John. I have always +felt that every woman should make all that she +can out of her husband. So I did my best first +of all to straighten up John's appearance. I +shifted the style of collar he was wearing to a +tighter kind that I liked better, and I brushed +his hair straight backward instead of forward, +which gave him a much more alert look. +Mother said that John needed waking up, and +so we did all we could to wake him up. Mother +came over to stay with me a good deal, and in +the evenings we generally had a little music or +a game of cards.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p>About this time another difficulty began to +come into my married life, which I suppose I +ought to have foreseen—I mean the attentions +of other gentlemen. I have always called +forth a great deal of admiration in gentlemen, +but I have always done my best to act like a +lady and to discourage it in every possible way. +I had been innocent enough to suppose that this +would end with married life, and it gave me a +dreadful shock to realize that such was not the +case. The first one I noticed was a young man +who came to the house, at an hour when John +was out, for the purpose, so he said at least, +of reading the gas meter. He looked at me in +just the boldest way and asked me to show him +the way to the cellar. I don't know whether +it was a pretext or not, but I just summoned all +the courage I had and showed him to the head +of the cellar stairs. I had determined that if +he tried to carry me down with him I would +scream for the servants, but I suppose something +in my manner made him desist, and he +went alone. When he came up he professed +to have read the meter and he left the house<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +quite quietly. But I thought it wiser to say +nothing to John of what had happened.</p> + +<p>There were others too. There was a young +man with large brown eyes who came and said +he had been sent to tune the piano. He came +on three separate days, and he bent his ear over +the keys in such a mournful way that I knew +he must have fallen in love with me. On the +last day he offered to tune my harp for a dollar +extra, but I refused, and when I asked him +instead to tune Mother's mandoline he said he +didn't know how. Of course I told John +nothing of all this.</p> + +<p>Then there was Mr. McQueen, who came +to the house several times to play cribbage with +John. He had been desperately in love with +me years before—at least I remember his taking +me home from a hockey match once, and what +a struggle it was for him not to come into the +parlour and see Mother for a few minutes when +I asked him; and, though he was married now +and with three children, I felt sure when he +came to play cribbage with John that it <i>meant</i> +something. He was very discreet and honour<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>able, +and never betrayed himself for a moment, +and I acted my part as if there was nothing at +all behind. But one night, when he came over +to play and John had had to go out, he refused +to stay even for an instant. He had got his +overshoes off before I told him that John was +out, and asked him if he wouldn't come into +the parlour and hear Mother play the mandoline, +but he just made one dive for his overshoes +and was gone. I knew that he didn't dare to +trust himself.</p> + +<p>Then presently a new trouble came. I +began to suspect that John was drinking. I +don't mean for a moment that he was drunk, +or that he was openly cruel to me. But at +times he seemed to act so queerly, and I noticed +that one night when by accident I left a bottle +of raspberry vinegar on the sideboard overnight, +it was all gone in the morning. Two +or three times when McQueen and John were +to play cribbage, John would fetch home two +or three bottles of bevo with him and they +would sit sipping all evening.</p> + +<p>I think he was drinking bevo by himself,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +too, though I could never be sure of it. At any +rate he often seemed queer and restless in the +evenings, and instead of staying in his den he +would wander all over the house. Once we +heard him—I mean Mother and I and two lady +friends who were with us that evening—quite +late (after ten o'clock) apparently moving +about in the pantry. "John," I called, "is +that you?" "Yes, Minn," he answered, quietly +enough, I admit. "What are you doing +there?" I asked. "Looking for something to +eat," he said. "John," I said, "you are forgetting +what is due to me as your wife. You +were fed at six. Go back."</p> + +<p>He went. But yet I felt more and more +that his love must be dwindling to make him act +as he did. I thought it all over wearily enough +and asked myself whether I had done everything +I should to hold my husband's love. I +had kept him in at nights. I had cut down his +smoking. I had stopped his playing cards. +What more was there that I could do?</p> + +<p class="tb">* * * * *</p> + +<p>So at last the conviction came to me that I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +must go away. I felt that I must get away +somewhere and think things out. At first I +thought of Palm Beach, but the season had not +opened and I felt somehow that I couldn't wait. +I wanted to get away somewhere by myself +and just face things as they were. So one +morning I said to John, "John, I think I'd like +to go off somewhere for a little time, just to be +by myself, dear, and I don't want you to ask +to come with me or to follow me, but just let +me go." John said, "All right, Minn. When +are you going to start?" The cold brutality +of it cut me to the heart, and I went upstairs +and had a good cry and looked over steamship +and railroad folders. I thought of Havana +for a while, because the pictures of the harbour +and the castle and the queer Spanish streets +looked so attractive, but then I was afraid +that at Havana a woman alone by herself might +be simply persecuted by attentions from gentlemen. +They say the Spanish temperament +is something fearful. So I decided on Bermuda +instead. I felt that in a beautiful, quiet +place like Bermuda I could think everything all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +over and face things, and it said on the folder +that there were always at least two English +regiments in garrison there, and the English +officers, whatever their faults, always treat a +woman with the deepest respect.</p> + +<p>So I said nothing more to John, but in the +next few days I got all my arrangements made +and my things packed. And when the last +afternoon came I sat down and wrote John a +long letter, to leave on my boudoir table, telling +him that I had gone to Bermuda. I told him +that I wanted to be alone: I said that I couldn't +tell when I would be back—that it might be +months, or it might be years, and I hoped that +he would try to be as happy as he could and +forget me entirely, and to send me money on +the first of every month.</p> + +<p class="tb">* * * * *</p> + +<p>Well, it was just at that moment that one of +those strange coincidences happen, little things +in themselves, but which seem to alter the whole +course of a person's life. I had nearly finished +the letter to John that I was to leave on the +writing-desk, when just then the maid came up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +to my room with a telegram. It was for John, +but I thought it my duty to open it and read +it for him before I left. And I nearly fainted +when I saw that it was from a lawyer in Bermuda—of +all places—and it said that a legacy +of two hundred thousand dollars had been left +to John by an uncle of his who had died there, +and asking for instructions about the disposition +of it.</p> + +<p>A great wave seemed to sweep over me, and +all the wicked thoughts that had been in my +mind—for I saw now that they <i>were</i> wicked—were +driven clean away. I thought how completely +lost poor old John would feel if all this +money came to him and he didn't have to work +any more and had no one at his side to help and +guide him in using it.</p> + +<p>I tore up the wicked letter I had written, and +I hurried as fast as I could to pack up a valise +with John's things (my own were packed +already, as I said). Then presently John came +in, and I broke the news to him as gently and as +tenderly as I could about his uncle having left +him the money and having died. I told him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +that I had found out all about the trains and +the Bermuda steamer, and had everything all +packed and ready for us to leave at once. John +seemed a little dazed about it all, and kept +saying that his uncle had taught him to play +tennis when he was a little boy, and he was very +grateful and thankful to me for having everything +arranged, and thought it wonderful.</p> + +<p>I had time to telephone to a few of my +women friends, and they just managed to rush +round for a few minutes to say good-bye. I +couldn't help crying a little when I told them +about John's uncle dying so far away with none +of us near him, and I told them about the legacy, +and they cried a little to hear of it all; and when +I told them that John and I might not come +back direct from Bermuda, but might take a +run over to Europe first, they all cried some +more.</p> + +<p>We left for New York that evening, and +after we had been to Bermuda and arranged +about a suitable monument for John's uncle +and collected the money, we sailed for +Europe.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<p>All through the happy time that has followed, +I like to think that through all our trials and +difficulties affliction brought us safely together +at last. +<br /> +<br /><br /> +<br /> +</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + +<div class="innerbox"> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a><i>III</i></h2> + +<h2><i>THE SPLIT IN THE CABINET</i></h2> +<h3><i>OR, THE FATE OF ENGLAND</i></h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>A political novel of the Days that Were</i>)</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<p>"The fate of England hangs upon it," +murmured Sir John Elphinspoon, as +he sank wearily into an armchair. +For a moment, as he said "England," +the baronet's eye glistened and his ears lifted +as if in defiance, but as soon as he stopped +saying it his eye lost its brilliance and +his ears dropped wearily at the sides of his +head.</p> + +<p>Lady Elphinspoon looked at her husband +anxiously. She could not conceal from herself +that his face, as he sank into his chair, seemed +somehow ten years older than it had been ten +years ago.</p> + +<p>"You are home early, John?" she queried.</p> + +<p>"The House rose early, my dear," said the +baronet.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +"For the All England Ping-Pong match?"</p> + +<p>"No, for the Dog Show. The Prime +Minister felt that the Cabinet ought to attend. +He said that their presence there would help +to bind the colonies to us. I understand also +that he has a pup in the show himself. He +took the Cabinet with him."</p> + +<p>"And why not you?" asked Lady Elphinspoon.</p> + +<p>"You forget, my dear," said the baronet, +"as Foreign Secretary my presence at a Dog +Show might be offensive to the Shah of Persia. +Had it been a Cat Show——"</p> + +<p>The baronet paused and shook his head in +deep gloom.</p> + +<p>"John," said his wife, "I feel that there is +something more. Did anything happen at the +House?"</p> + +<p>Sir John nodded.</p> + +<p>"A bad business," he said. "The Wazuchistan +Boundary Bill was read this afternoon +for the third time."</p> + +<p>No woman in England, so it was generally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +said, had a keener political insight than Lady +Elphinspoon.</p> + +<p>"The third time," she repeated thoughtfully, +"and how many more will it have to go?"</p> + +<p>Sir John turned his head aside and groaned.</p> + +<p>"You are faint," exclaimed Lady Elphinspoon, +"let me ring for tea."</p> + +<p>The baronet shook his head.</p> + +<p>"An egg, John—let me beat you up an egg."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," murmured Sir John, still +abstracted, "beat it, yes, do beat it."</p> + +<p>Lady Elphinspoon, in spite of her elevated +position as the wife of the Foreign Secretary +of Great Britain, held it not beneath her to +perform for her husband the plainest household +service. She rang for an egg. The +butler broke it for her into a tall goblet filled +with old sherry, and the noble lady, with her +own hands, beat the stuff out of it. For the +veteran politician, whose official duties rarely +allowed him to eat, an egg was a sovereign +remedy. Taken either in a goblet of sherry +or in a mug of rum, or in half a pint of +whisky, it never failed to revive his energies.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<p>The effect of the egg was at once visible in +the brightening of his eye and the lengthening +of his ears.</p> + +<p>"And now explain to me," said his wife, +"what has happened. What <i>is</i> this Boundary +Bill?"</p> + +<p>"We never meant it to pass," said Sir John. +"It was introduced only as a sop to public +opinion. It delimits our frontier in such a way +as to extend our suzerainty over the entire +desert of El Skrub. The Wazoos have claimed +that this is their desert. The hill tribes are +restless. If we attempt to advance the Wazoos +will rise. If we retire it deals a blow at our +prestige."</p> + +<p>Lady Elphinspoon shuddered. Her long +political training had taught her that nothing +was so fatal to England as to be hit in the +prestige.</p> + +<p>"And on the other hand," continued Sir +John, "if we move sideways, the Ohulîs, the +mortal enemies of the Wazoos, will strike us +in our rear."</p> + +<p>"In our rear!" exclaimed Lady Elphin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>spoon +in a tone of pain. "Oh, John, we must +go forward. Take another egg."</p> + +<p>"We cannot," groaned the Foreign Secretary. +"There are reasons which I cannot explain +even to you, Caroline, reasons of State, +which absolutely prevent us from advancing +into Wazuchistan. Our hands are tied. Meantime +if the Wazoos rise, it is all over with us. +It will split the Cabinet."</p> + +<p>"Split the Cabinet!" repeated Lady Elphinspoon +in alarm. She well knew that next to a +blow in the prestige the splitting of the Cabinet +was about the worst thing that could happen +to Great Britain. "Oh, John, they <i>must</i> be +held together at all costs. Can nothing be +done?"</p> + +<p>"Everything is being done that can be. The +Prime Minister has them at the Dog Show +at this moment. To-night the Chancellor is +taking them to moving pictures. And to-morrow—it +is a State secret, my dear, but it +will be very generally known in the morning—we +have seats for them all at the circus. If +we can hold them together all is well, but if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +they split we are undone. Meantime our difficulties +increase. At the very passage of the +Bill itself a question was asked by one of the +new labour members, a miner, my dear, a quite +uneducated man——"</p> + +<p>"Yes?" queried Lady Elphinspoon.</p> + +<p>"He asked the Colonial Secretary"—Sir +John shuddered—"to tell him where Wazuchistan +is. Worse than that, my dear," added +Sir John, "he defied him to tell him where it is."</p> + +<p>"What did you do? Surely he has no right +to information of that sort?"</p> + +<p>"It was a close shave. Luckily the Whips +saved us. They got the Secretary out of the +House and rushed him to the British Museum. +When he got back he said that he would answer +the question a month from Friday. We got +a great burst of cheers, but it was a close thing. +But stop, I must speak at once with Powers. +My despatch box, yes, here it is. Now where +is young Powers? There is work for him to +do at once."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Powers is in the conservatory with +Angela," said Lady Elphinspoon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + +<p>"With Angela!" exclaimed Sir John, while +a slight shade of displeasure appeared upon his +brow. "With Angela again! Do you think +it quite proper, my dear, that Powers should +be so constantly with Angela?"</p> + +<p>"John," said his wife, "you forget, I think, +who Mr. Powers is. I am sure that Angela +knows too well what is due to her rank, and to +herself, to consider Mr. Powers anything more +than an instructive companion. And I notice +that, since Mr. Powers has been your secretary, +Angela's mind is much keener. Already the +girl has a wonderful grasp on foreign policy. +Only yesterday I heard her asking the Prime +Minister at luncheon whether we intend to +extend our Senegambian protectorate over the +Fusees. He was delighted."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well, very well," said Sir John. +Then he rang a bell for a manservant.</p> + +<p>"Ask Mr. Powers," he said, "to be good +enough to attend me in the library." +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + + +<p>Angela Elphinspoon stood with Perriton +Powers among the begonias of the conservatory. +The same news which had so agitated +Sir John lay heavy on both their hearts.</p> + +<p>"Will the Wazoo rise?" asked Angela, +clasping her hands before her, while her great +eyes sought the young man's face and found it. +"Oh, Mr. Powers! Tell me, will they rise? +It seems too dreadful to contemplate. Do you +think the Wazoo will rise?"</p> + +<p>"It is only too likely," said Powers. They +stood looking into one another's eyes, their +thoughts all on the Wazoo.</p> + +<p>Angelina Elphinspoon, as she stood there +against the background of the begonias, made +a picture that a painter, or even a plumber, +would have loved. Tall and typically English +in her fair beauty, her features, in repose, had +something of the hauteur and distinction of her +mother, and when in motion they recalled her +father.</p> + +<p>Perriton Powers was even taller than Angela.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +The splendid frame and stern features of Sir +John's secretary made him a striking figure. +Yet he was, quite frankly, sprung from the +people, and made no secret of it. His father +had been simply a well-to-do London surgeon, +who had been knighted for some mere discoveries +in science. His grandfather, so it +was whispered, had been nothing more than a +successful banker who had amassed a fortune +simply by successful banking. Yet at Oxford +young Powers had carried all before him. He +had occupied a seat, a front seat, in one of the +boats, had got his blue and his pink, and had +taken a double final in Sanscrit and Arithmetic.</p> + +<p>He had already travelled widely in the East, +spoke Urdu and Hoodoo with facility, while as +secretary to Sir John Elphinspoon, with a seat +in the House in prospect, he had his foot upon +the ladder of success.</p> + +<p>"Yes," repeated Powers thoughtfully, "they +may rise. Our confidential despatches tell us +that for some time they have been secretly +passing round packets of yeast. The whole +tribe is in a ferment."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But our sphere of influence is at stake," +exclaimed Angela.</p> + +<p>"It is," said Powers. "As a matter of fact, +for over a year we have been living on a mere +<i>modus vivendi</i>."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Powers," cried Angela, "what a +way to live."</p> + +<p>"We have tried everything," said the secretary. +"We offered the Wazoo a condominium +over the desert of El Skrub. They refused it."</p> + +<p>"But it's our desert," said Angela proudly.</p> + +<p>"It is. But what can we do? The best we +can hope is that El Boob will acquiesce in the +<i>status quo</i>."</p> + +<p>At that moment a manservant appeared in +the doorway of the conservatory.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Powers, sir," he said, "Sir John desires +your attendance, sir, in the library, sir."</p> + +<p>Powers turned to Angela, a new seriousness +upon his face.</p> + +<p>"Miss Elphinspoon," he said, "I think I +know what is coming. Will you wait for me +here? I shall be back in half an hour."</p> + +<p>"I will wait," said the girl. She sat down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +and waited among the begonias, her mind still +on the Wazoo, her whole intense nature strung +to the highest pitch. "Can the <i>modus vivendi</i> +hold?" she murmured.</p> + +<p>In half an hour Powers returned. He was +wearing now his hat and light overcoat, and +carried on a strap round his neck a tin box with +a white painted label, "<i>British Foreign Office. +Confidential Despatches. This Side Up With +Care.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Miss Elphinspoon," he said, and there was +a new note in his voice, "Angela, I leave +England to-night——"</p> + +<p>"To-night!" gasped Angela.</p> + +<p>"On a confidential mission."</p> + +<p>"To Wazuchistan!" exclaimed the girl.</p> + +<p>Powers paused a moment. "To Wazuchistan," +he said, "yes. But it must not be +known. I shall return in a month—or never. +If I fail"—he spoke with an assumed lightness—"it +is only one more grave among the hills. If +I succeed, the Cabinet is saved, and with it the +destiny of England."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Powers," cried Angela, rising and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +advancing towards him, "how splendid! How +noble! No reward will be too great for you."</p> + +<p>"My reward," said Powers, and as he spoke +he reached out and clasped both of the girl's +hands in his own, "yes, my reward. May I +come and claim it here?"</p> + +<p>For a moment he looked straight into her +eyes. In the next he was gone, and Angela +was alone.</p> + +<p>"His reward!" she murmured. "What +could he have meant? His reward that he is to +claim. What can it be?"</p> + +<p>But she could not divine it. She admitted +to herself that she had not the faintest idea. +<br /> +<br /> +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<p>In the days that followed all England was +thrilled to its base as the news spread that the +Wazoo might rise at any moment.</p> + +<p>"Will the Wazoos rise?" was the question +upon every lip.</p> + +<p>In London men went to their offices with a +sense of gloom. At lunch they could hardly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +eat. A feeling of impending disaster pervaded +all ranks.</p> + +<p>Sir John as he passed to and fro to the +House was freely accosted in the streets.</p> + +<p>"Will the Wazoos rise, sir?" asked an +honest labourer. "Lord help us all, sir, if they +do."</p> + +<p>Sir John, deeply touched, dropped a shilling +in the honest fellow's hat, by accident.</p> + +<p>At No. 10 Downing Street, women of the +working class, with children in their arms, stood +waiting for news.</p> + +<p>On the Exchange all was excitement. +Consols fell two points in twenty-four hours. +Even raising the Bank rate and shutting the +door brought only a temporary relief.</p> + +<p>Lord Glump, the greatest financial expert in +London, was reported as saying that if the +Wazoos rose England would be bankrupt in +forty-eight hours.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, to the consternation of the whole +nation, the Government did nothing. The +Cabinet seemed to be paralysed.</p> + +<p>On the other hand the Press became all the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +more clamorous. The London <i>Times</i> urged +that an expedition should be sent at once. +Twenty-five thousand household troops, it +argued, should be sent up the Euphrates or up +the Ganges or up something without delay. +If they were taken in flat boats, carried over +the mountains on mules, and lifted across the +rivers in slings, they could then be carried over +the desert on jackasses. They could reach +Wazuchistan in two years. Other papers +counselled moderation. The <i>Manchester +Guardian</i> recalled the fact that the Wazoos +were a Christian people. Their leader, El +Boob, so it was said, had accepted Christianity +with childlike simplicity and had asked if there +was any more of it. The <i>Spectator</i> claimed +that the Wazoos, or more properly the Wazi, +were probably the descendants of an Iranic or +perhaps Urgumic stock. It suggested the +award of a Rhodes Scholarship. It looked +forward to the days when there would be +Wazoos at Oxford. Even the presence of a +single Wazoo, or, more accurately, a single +Wooz, would help.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>With each day the news became more +ominous. It was reported in the Press that a +Wazoo, inflamed apparently with <i>ghee</i>, or perhaps +with <i>bhong</i>, had rushed up to the hills and +refused to come down. It was said that the +Shriek-el-Foozlum, the religious head of the +tribe, had torn off his suspenders and sent +them to Mecca.</p> + +<p>That same day the <i>Illustrated London +News</i> published a drawing "Wazoo Warriors +Crossing a River and Shouting, Ho!" +and the general consternation reached its +height.</p> + +<p>Meantime, for Sir John and his colleagues, +the question of the hour became, "Could the +Cabinet be held together?" Every effort was +made. The news that the Cabinet had all been +seen together at the circus, for a moment reassured +the nation. But the rumour spread +that the First Lord of the Admiralty had said +that the clowns were a bum lot. The Radical +Press claimed that if he thought so he ought +to resign.</p> + +<p>On the fatal Friday the question already<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +referred to was scheduled for its answer. The +friends of the Government counted on the +answer to restore confidence. To the consternation +of all, the expected answer was not +forthcoming. The Colonial Secretary rose in +his place, visibly nervous. Ministers, he said, +had been asked where Wazuchistan was. They +were not prepared, at the present delicate stage +of negotiations, to say. More hung upon the +answer than Ministers were entitled to divulge. +They could only appeal to the patriotism of the +nation. He could only say this, that <i>wherever</i> +it was, and he used the word <i>wherever</i> with all +the emphasis of which he was capable, the +Government would accept the full responsibility +for its being where it was.</p> + +<p>The House adjourned in something like +confusion.</p> + +<p>Among those seated behind the grating of +the Ladies' Gallery was Lady Elphinspoon. +Her quick instinct told her the truth. Driving +home, she found her husband seated, crushed, +in his library.</p> + +<p>"John," she said, falling on her knees and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +taking her husband's hands in hers, "is this +true? Is this the dreadful truth?"</p> + +<p>"I see you have divined it, Caroline," said +the statesman sadly. "It is the truth. We +don't know where Wazuchistan is."</p> + +<p>For a moment there was silence.</p> + +<p>"But, John, how could it have happened?"</p> + +<p>"We thought the Colonial Office knew. We +were confident that they knew. The Colonial +Secretary had stated that he had been there. +Later on it turned out that he meant Saskatchewan. +Of course they thought <i>we</i> knew. And +we both thought that the Exchequer must +know. We understood that they had collected +a hut tax for ten years."</p> + +<p>"And hadn't they?"</p> + +<p>"Not a penny. The Wazoos live in tents."</p> + +<p>"But, surely," pleaded Lady Elphinspoon, +"you could find out. Had you no maps?"</p> + +<p>Sir John shook his head.</p> + +<p>"We thought of that at once, my dear. +We've looked all through the British Museum. +Once we thought we had succeeded. But it +turned out to be Wisconsin."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But the map in the <i>Times</i>? Everybody +saw it."</p> + +<p>Again the baronet shook his head. "Lord +Southcliff had it made in the office," he said. +"It appears that he always does. Otherwise +the physical features might not suit him."</p> + +<p>"But could you not send some one to see?"</p> + +<p>"We did. We sent Perriton Powers to +find out where it was. We had a month to the +good. It was barely time, just time. Powers +has failed and we are lost. To-morrow all +England will guess the truth and the Government +falls." +<br /> +<br /> +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<p>The crowd outside of No. 10 Downing +Street that evening was so dense that all traffic +was at a standstill. But within the historic +room where the Cabinet were seated about the +long table all was calm. Few could have +guessed from the quiet demeanour of the +group of statesmen that the fate of an Empire +hung by a thread.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>Seated at the head of the table, the Prime +Minister was quietly looking over a book of +butterflies, while waiting for the conference to +begin. Beside him the Secretary for Ireland +was fixing trout flies, while the Chancellor of +the Exchequer kept his serene face bent over +upon his needlework. At the Prime Minister's +right, Sir John Elphinspoon, no longer agitated, +but sustained and dignified by the responsibility +of his office, was playing spillikins.</p> + +<p>The little clock on the mantel chimed eight.</p> + +<p>The Premier closed his book of butterflies.</p> + +<p>"Well, gentlemen," he said, "I fear our +meeting will not be a protracted one. It seems +we are hopelessly at variance. You, Sir +Charles," he continued, turning to the First +Sea Lord, who was in attendance, "are still in +favour of a naval expedition?"</p> + +<p>"Send it up at once," said Sir Charles.</p> + +<p>"Up where?" asked the Premier.</p> + +<p>"Up anything," answered the Old Sea Dog, +"it will get there."</p> + +<p>Voices of dissent were raised in undertones +around the table.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I strongly deprecate any expedition," said +the Chancellor of the Exchequer, "I favour +a convention with the Shriek. Let the Shriek +sign a convention recognizing the existence of a +supreme being and receiving from us a million +sterling in acknowledgment."</p> + +<p>"And where will you <i>find</i> the Shriek?" said +the Prime Minister. "Come, come, gentlemen, +I fear that we can play this comedy no +longer. The truth is," he added with characteristic +nonchalance, "we don't know where the +bally place is. We can't meet the House to-*morrow. +We are hopelessly split. Our existence +as a Government is at an end."</p> + +<p>But, at that very moment, a great noise of +shouting and clamour rose from the street +without. The Prime Minister lifted his hand +for silence. "Listen," he said. One of the +Ministers went to a window and opened it, and +the cries outside became audible. "A King's +Messenger! Make way for the King's +Messenger!"</p> + +<p>The Premier turned quietly to Sir John.</p> + +<p>"Perriton Powers," he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + +<p>In another moment Perriton Powers stood +before the Ministers.</p> + +<p>Bronzed by the tropic sun, his face was +recognizable only by the assured glance of his +eye. An Afghan <i>bernous</i> was thrown back +from his head and shoulders, while his commanding +figure was draped in a long <i>chibuok</i>. +A pair of pistols and a curved <i>yasmak</i> were in +his belt.</p> + +<p>"So you got to Wazuchistan all right," said +the Premier quietly.</p> + +<p>"I went in by way of the Barooda," said +Powers. "For many days I was unable to +cross it. The waters of the river were wild +and swollen with rains. To cross it seemed +certain death——"</p> + +<p>"But at last you got over," said the Premier, +"and then——"</p> + +<p>"I struck out over the Fahuri desert. For +days and days, blinded by the sun, and almost +buried in sand, I despaired."</p> + +<p>"But you got through it all right. And after +that?"</p> + +<p>"My first care was to disguise myself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +Staining myself from head to foot with betel +nut——"</p> + +<p>"To look like a beetle," said the Premier. +"Exactly. And so you got to Wazuchistan. +Where is it and what is it?"</p> + +<p>"My lord," said Powers, drawing himself +up and speaking with emphasis, "I got to where +it was thought to be. There is no such place!"</p> + +<p>The whole Cabinet gave a start of astonishment.</p> + +<p>"No such place!" they repeated.</p> + +<p>"What about El Boob?" asked the Chancellor.</p> + +<p>"There is no such person."</p> + +<p>"And the Shriek-el-Foozlum?"</p> + +<p>Powers shook his head.</p> + +<p>"But do you mean to say," said the Premier +in astonishment, "that there are no Wazoos? +There you <i>must</i> be wrong. True we don't just +know where they are. But our despatches +have shown too many signs of active trouble +traced directly to the Wazoos to disbelieve in +them. There are Wazoos somewhere, there—there +<i>must</i> be."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The Wazoos," said Powers, "are there. +But they are Irish. So are the Ohulîs. They +are both Irish."</p> + +<p>"But how the devil did they get out there?" +questioned the Premier. "And why did they +make the trouble?"</p> + +<p>"The Irish, my lord," interrupted the Chief +Secretary for Ireland, "are everywhere, and it +is their business to make trouble."</p> + +<p>"Some years ago," continued Powers, "a few +Irish families settled out there. The Ohulîs +should be properly called the O'Hooleys. +The word Wazoo is simply the Urdu for +McGinnis. El Boob is the Urdu for the +Arabic El Papa, the Pope. It was my +knowledge of Urdu, itself an agglutinative +language——"</p> + +<p>"Precisely," said the Premier. Then he +turned to his Cabinet. "Well, gentlemen, our +task is now simplified. If they are Irish, I +think we know exactly what to do. I suppose," +he continued, turning to Powers, "that they +want some kind of Home Rule."</p> + +<p>"They do," said Powers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Separating, of course, the Ohulî counties +from the Wazoo?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Powers.</p> + +<p>"Precisely; the thing is simplicity itself. +And what contribution will they make to the +Imperial Exchequer?"</p> + +<p>"None."</p> + +<p>"And will they pay their own expenses?"</p> + +<p>"They refuse to."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. All this is plain sailing. Of +course they must have a constabulary. Lord +Edward," continued the Premier, turning now +to the Secretary of War, "how long will it take +to send in a couple of hundred constabulary? +I think they'll expect it, you know. It's their +right."</p> + +<p>"Let me see," said Lord Edward, calculating +quickly, with military precision, "sending them +over the Barooda in buckets and then over the +mountains in baskets—I think in about two +weeks."</p> + +<p>"Good," said the Premier. "Gentlemen, we +shall meet the House to-morrow. Sir John, +will you meantime draft us an annexation bill?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +And you, young man, what you have done is +really not half bad. His Majesty will see you +to-morrow. I am glad that you are safe."</p> + +<p>"On my way home," said Powers, with quiet +modesty, "I was attacked by a lion——"</p> + +<p>"But you beat it off," said the Premier. +"Exactly. Good night." +<br /> +<br /> +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> + + +<p>It was on the following afternoon that +Sir John Elphinspoon presented the Wazoo +Annexation Bill to a crowded and breathless +House.</p> + +<p>Those who know the House of Commons +know that it has its moods. At times it is +grave, earnest, thoughtful. At other times it +is swept with emotion which comes at it in +waves. Or at times, again, it just seems to +sit there as if it were stuffed.</p> + +<p>But all agreed that they had never seen the +House so hushed as when Sir John Elphinspoon +presented his Bill for the Annexation of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +Wazuchistan. And when at the close of a +splendid peroration he turned to pay a graceful +compliment to the man who had saved the +nation, and thundered forth to the delighted +ears of his listeners—</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><i>Arma virumque cano Wazoo qui primus ab +oris</i>,</p> + +<p>and then, with the words "England, England," +still on his lips, fell over backwards and was +carried out on a stretcher, the House broke +into wild and unrestrained applause. +<br /> +<br /> +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> + + +<p>The next day Sir Perriton Powers—for the +King had knighted him after breakfast—stood +again in the conservatory of the house in +Carlton Terrace.</p> + +<p>"I have come for my reward," he said. "Do +I get it?"</p> + +<p>"You do," said Angela.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sir Perriton clasped her in his arms.</p> + +<p>"On my way home," he said, "I was attacked +by a lion. I tried to beat it——"</p> + +<p>"Hush, dearest," she whispered, "let me +take you to father." +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> +<div class="innerbox"> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a><i>IV</i></h2> + +<h3><i>WHO DO YOU THINK DID IT?</i></h3> + +<h4><i>OR, THE MIXED-UP MURDER MYSTERY</i></h4> + +<p class="center">(<i>Done after the very latest fashion in this sort of thing</i>)</p> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<p><br /><i>NOTE.—Any reader who guesses correctly who +did it is entitled (in all fairness) to a beautiful +gold watch and chain.</i><br /></p> + +<h3><a name="IV_I" id="IV_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<h4>HE DINED WITH ME LAST NIGHT</h4> + + +<p>The afternoon edition of the <i>Metropolitan +Planet</i> was going to press. Five +thousand copies a minute were reeling +off its giant cylinders. A square acre +of paper was passing through its presses every +hour. In the huge <i>Planet</i> building, which +dominated Broadway, employés, compositors, +reporters, advertisers, surged to and fro. Placed +in a single line (only, of course, they wouldn't +be likely to consent to it) they would have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +reached across Manhattan Island. Placed in +two lines, they would probably have reached +twice as far. Arranged in a procession they +would have taken an hour in passing a saloon: +easily that.</p> + +<p>In the whole vast building all was uproar. +Telephones, megaphones and gramophones +were ringing throughout the building. Elevators +flew up and down, stopping nowhere.</p> + +<p>Only in one place was quiet—namely, in the +room where sat the big man on whose capacious +intellect the whole organization depended.</p> + +<p>Masterman Throgton, the general manager +of the <i>Planet</i>, was a man in middle life. There +was something in his massive frame which +suggested massiveness, and a certain quality in +the poise of his great head which indicated a +balanced intellect. His face was impenetrable +and his expression imponderable.</p> + +<p>The big chief was sitting in his swivel chair +with ink all round him. Through this man's +great brain passed all the threads and filaments +that held the news of a continent. Snap one, +and the whole continent would stop.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<p>At the moment when our story opens (there +was no sense in opening it sooner), a written +message had just been handed in.</p> + +<p>The Chief read it. He seemed to grasp its +contents in a flash.</p> + +<p>"Good God!" he exclaimed. It was the +strongest expression that this solid, self-contained, +semi-detached man ever allowed himself. +Anything stronger would have seemed +too near to profanity. "Good God!" he repeated, +"Kivas Kelly murdered! In his own +home! Why, he dined with me last night! +I drove him home!"</p> + +<p>For a brief moment the big man remained +plunged in thought. But with Throgton the +moment of musing was short. His instinct +was to act.</p> + +<p>"You may go," he said to the messenger. +Then he seized the telephone that stood beside +him (this man could telephone almost without +stopping thinking) and spoke into it in quiet, +measured tones, without wasting a word.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, operator! Put me through to two, +two, two, two, two. Is that two, two, two,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +two, two? Hullo, two, two, two, two, two; I +want Transome Kent. Kent speaking? Kent, +this is Throgton speaking. Kent, a murder +has been committed at the Kelly residence, +Riverside Drive. I want you to go and cover +it. Get it all. Don't spare expense. The +<i>Planet</i> is behind you. Have you got car-fare? +Right."</p> + +<p>In another moment the big chief had turned +round in his swivel chair (at least forty degrees) +and was reading telegraphic despatches from +Jerusalem. That was the way he did things.</p> + +<h3><a name="IV_II" id="IV_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<h4>I MUST SAVE HER LIFE</h4> + +<p>Within a few minutes Transome Kent had +leapt into a car (a surface car) and was speeding +north towards Riverside Drive with the +full power of the car. As he passed uptown +a newsboy was already calling, "Club Man +Murdered! Another Club Man Murdered!" +Carelessly throwing a cent to the boy, Kent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +purchased a paper and read the brief notice of +the tragedy.</p> + +<p>Kivas Kelly, a well-known club man and <i>bon +vivant</i>, had been found dead in his residence +on Riverside Drive, with every indication—or, +at least, with a whole lot of indications—of +murder. The unhappy club man had been +found, fully dressed in his evening clothes, lying +on his back on the floor of the billiard-room, +with his feet stuck up on the edge of the table. +A narrow black scarf, presumably his evening +tie, was twisted tightly about his neck by means +of a billiard cue inserted in it. There was a +quiet smile upon his face. He had apparently +died from strangulation. A couple of bullet-holes +passed through his body, one on each side, +but they went out again. His suspenders were +burst at the back. His hands were folded +across his chest. One of them still held a +white billiard ball. There was no sign of a +struggle or of any disturbance in the room. A +square piece of cloth was missing from the +victim's dinner jacket.</p> + +<p>In its editorial columns the same paper dis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>cussed +the more general aspects of the murder. +This, it said, was the third club man murdered +in the last fortnight. While not taking an +alarmist view, the paper felt that the killing of +club men had got to stop. There was a limit, +a reasonable limit, to everything. Why should +a club man be killed? It might be asked, why +should a club man live? But this was hardly +to the point. They do live. After all, to be +fair, what does a club man ask of society? Not +much. Merely wine, women and singing. +Why not let him have them? Is it fair to kill +him? Does the gain to literature outweigh the +social wrong? The writer estimated that at +the rate of killing now going on the club men +would be all destroyed in another generation. +Something should be done to conserve them.</p> + +<p>Transome Kent was not a detective. He +was a reporter. After sweeping everything at +Harvard in front of him, and then behind him, +he had joined the staff of the <i>Planet</i> two +months before. His rise had been phenomenal. +In his first week of work he had unravelled a +mystery, in his second he had unearthed a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +packing scandal which had poisoned the food of +the entire nation for ten years, and in his third +he had pitilessly exposed some of the best +and most respectable people in the metropolis. +Kent's work on the <i>Planet</i> consisted now +almost exclusively of unravelling and unearthing, +and it was natural that the manager should +turn to him.</p> + +<p>The mansion was a handsome sandstone +residence, standing in its own grounds. On +Kent's arrival he found that the police had +already drawn a cordon around it with cords. +Groups of morbid curiosity-seekers hung about +it in twos and threes, some of them in fours +and fives. Policemen were leaning against the +fence in all directions. They wore that baffled +look so common to the detective force of the +metropolis. "It seems to me," remarked one +of them to the man beside him, "that there is +an inexorable chain of logic about this that I +am unable to follow." "So do I," said the +other.</p> + +<p>The Chief Inspector of the Detective Department, +a large, heavy-looking man, was standing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +beside a gate-post. He nodded gloomily to +Transome Kent.</p> + +<p>"Are you baffled, Edwards?" asked Kent.</p> + +<p>"Baffled again, Mr. Kent," said the Inspector, +with a sob in his voice. "I thought +I could have solved this one, but I can't."</p> + +<p>He passed a handkerchief across his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Have a cigar, Chief," said Kent, "and let +me hear what the trouble is."</p> + +<p>The Inspector brightened. Like all policemen, +he was simply crazy over cigars. "All +right, Mr. Kent," he said, "wait till I chase +away the morbid curiosity-seekers."</p> + +<p>He threw a stick at them.</p> + +<p>"Now, then," continued Kent, "what about +tracks, footmarks? Had you thought of them?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, first thing. The whole lawn is +covered with them, all stamped down. Look +at these, for instance. These are the tracks of +a man with a wooden leg"—Kent nodded—"in +all probability a sailor, newly landed from +Java, carrying a Singapore walking-stick, and +with a tin-whistle tied round his belt."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see that," said Kent thoughtfully.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +"The weight of the whistle weighs him down +a little on the right side."</p> + +<p>"Do you think, Mr. Kent, a sailor from +Java with a wooden leg would commit a murder +like this?" asked the Inspector eagerly. +"Would he do it?"</p> + +<p>"He would," said the Investigator. "They +generally do—as soon as they land."</p> + +<p>The Inspector nodded. "And look at these +marks here, Mr. Kent. You recognize them, +surely—those are the footsteps of a bar-keeper +out of employment, waiting for the eighteenth +amendment to pass away. See how deeply they +sink in——"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Kent, "he'd commit murder."</p> + +<p>"There are lots more," continued the Inspector, +"but they're no good. The morbid +curiosity-seekers were walking all over this +place while we were drawing the cordon +round it."</p> + +<p>"Stop a bit," said Kent, pausing to think a +moment. "What about thumb-prints?"</p> + +<p>"Thumb-prints," said the Inspector. "Don't +mention them. The house is full of them."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Any thumb-prints of Italians with that +peculiar incurvature of the ball of the thumb +that denotes a Sicilian brigand?"</p> + +<p>"There were three of those," said Inspector +Edwards gloomily. "No, Mr. Kent, the thumb +stuff is no good."</p> + +<p>Kent thought again.</p> + +<p>"Inspector," he said, "what about mysterious +women? Have you seen any around?"</p> + +<p>"Four went by this morning," said the +Inspector, "one at eleven-thirty, one at twelve-thirty, +and two together at one-thirty. At +least," he added sadly, "I think they were +mysterious. All women look mysterious +to me."</p> + +<p>"I must try in another direction," said Kent. +"Let me reconstruct the whole thing. I must +weave a chain of analysis. Kivas Kelly was +a bachelor, was he not?"</p> + +<p>"He was. He lived alone here."</p> + +<p>"Very good, I suppose he had in his +employ a butler who had been with him for +twenty years——"</p> + +<p>Edwards nodded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I suppose you've arrested him?"</p> + +<p>"At once," said the Inspector. "We always +arrest the butler, Mr. Kent. They expect it. +In fact, this man, Williams, gave himself up +at once."</p> + +<p>"And let me see," continued the Investigator. +"I presume there was a housekeeper +who lived on the top floor, and who had been +stone deaf for ten years?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely."</p> + +<p>"She had heard nothing during the murder?"</p> + +<p>"Not a thing. But this may have been on +account of her deafness."</p> + +<p>"True, true," murmured Kent. "And I +suppose there was a coachman, a thoroughly +reliable man, who lived with his wife at the +back of the house——"</p> + +<p>"But who had taken his wife over to see +a relation on the night of the murder, and +who did not return until an advanced hour. +Mr. Kent, we've been all over that. There's +nothing in it."</p> + +<p>"Were there any other persons belonging +to the establishment?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There was Mr. Kelly's stenographer, Alice +Delary, but she only came in the mornings."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen her?" asked Kent eagerly. +"What is she like?"</p> + +<p>"I have seen her," said the Inspector. +"She's a looloo."</p> + +<p>"Ha," said Kent, "a looloo!" The two +men looked into one another's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes," repeated Edwards thoughtfully, "a +peach."</p> + +<p>A sudden swift flash of intuition, an inspiration, +leapt into the young reporter's brain.</p> + +<p>This girl, this peach, at all hazards he must +save her life.<br /> +<br /> +</p> + +<h3><a name="IV_III" id="IV_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<h4>I MUST BUY A BOOK ON BILLIARDS</h4> + + +<p>Kent turned to the Inspector. "Take me +into the house," he said. Edwards led the +way. The interior of the handsome mansion +seemed undisturbed. "I see no sign of a +struggle here," said Kent.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," answered the Inspector gloomily. +"We can find no sign of a struggle anywhere. +But, then, we never do."</p> + +<p>He opened for the moment the door of the +stately drawing-room. "No sign of a struggle +there," he said. The closed blinds, the draped +furniture, the covered piano, the muffled chandelier, +showed absolutely no sign of a +struggle.</p> + +<p>"Come upstairs to the billiard-room," said +Edwards. "The body has been removed for +the inquest, but nothing else is disturbed."</p> + +<p>They went upstairs. On the second floor +was the billiard-room, with a great English +table in the centre of it. But Kent had at +once dashed across to the window, an exclamation +on his lips. "Ha! ha!" he said, +"what have we here?"</p> + +<p>The Inspector shook his head quietly. "The +window," he said in a monotonous, almost sing-song +tone, "has apparently been opened from +the outside, the sash being lifted with some +kind of a sharp instrument. The dust on +the sill outside has been disturbed as if by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +a man of extraordinary agility lying on his +stomach——Don't bother about that, Mr. +Kent. It's <i>always</i> there."</p> + +<p>"True," said Kent. Then he cast his eyes +upward, and again an involuntary exclamation +broke from him. "Did you see that trap-door?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"We did," said Edwards. "The dust around +the rim has been disturbed. The trap opens +into the hollow of the roof. A man of extraordinary +dexterity might open the trap with +a billiard cue, throw up a fine manila rope, +climb up the rope and lie there on his +stomach.</p> + +<p>"No use," continued the Inspector. "For +the matter of that, look at this huge old-fashioned +fireplace. A man of extraordinary +precocity could climb up the chimney. Or +this dumb-waiter on a pulley, for serving +drinks, leading down into the maids' quarters. +A man of extreme indelicacy might ride up +and down in it."</p> + +<p>"Stop a minute," said Kent. "What is the +meaning of that hat?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>A light gossamer hat, gay with flowers, hung +on a peg at the side of the room.</p> + +<p>"We thought of that," said Edwards, "and +we have left it there. Whoever comes for +that hat has had a hand in the mystery. We +think——"</p> + +<p>But Transome Kent was no longer listening. +He had seized the edge of the billiard table.</p> + +<p>"Look, look!" he cried eagerly. "The clue +to the mystery! The positions of the billiard +balls! The white ball in the very centre of +the table, and the red just standing on the +verge of the end pocket! What does it mean, +Edwards, what does it mean?"</p> + +<p>He had grasped Edwards by the arm and +was peering into his face.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said the Inspector. "I +don't play billiards."</p> + +<p>"Neither do I," said Kent, "but I can find +out. Quick! The nearest book-store. I must +buy a book on billiards."</p> + +<p>With a wave of the arm, Kent vanished.</p> + +<p>The Inspector stood for a moment in thought.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Gone!" he murmured to himself (it was +his habit to murmur all really important +speeches aloud to himself). "Now, why did +Throgton telephone to me to put a watch on +Kent? Ten dollars a day to shadow him! Why?" +<br /> +<br /> +</p> + +<h3><a name="IV_IV" id="IV_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<h4>THAT IS NOT BILLIARD CHALK</h4> + +<p>Meantime at the <i>Planet</i> office Masterman +Throgton was putting on his coat to go home.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, sir," said an employé, "there's +a lot of green billiard chalk on your sleeve."</p> + +<p>Throgton turned and looked the man full +in the eye.</p> + +<p>"That is not billiard chalk," he said, "it is +face powder."</p> + +<p>Saying which this big, imperturbable, self-contained +man stepped into the elevator and +went to the ground floor in one drop<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="IV_V" id="IV_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h3> + +<h4>HAS ANYBODY HERE SEEN KELLY?</h4> + +<p>The inquest upon the body of Kivas Kelly +was held upon the following day. Far from +offering any solution of what had now become +an unfathomable mystery, it only made it +deeper still. The medical testimony, though +given by the most distinguished consulting expert +of the city, was entirely inconclusive. The +body, the expert testified, showed evident +marks of violence. There was a distinct lesion +of the œsophagus and a decided excoriation +of the fibula. The mesodenum was gibbous. +There was a certain quantity of flab in the +binomium and the proscenium was wide open.</p> + +<p>One striking fact, however, was decided +from the testimony of the expert, namely, that +the stomach of the deceased was found to contain +half a pint of arsenic. On this point +the questioning of the district attorney was +close and technical. Was it unusual, he asked, +to find arsenic in the stomach? In the stomach<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +of a club man, no. Was not half a pint a +large quantity? He would not say that. Was +it a small quantity? He should not care to +say that it was. Would half a pint of arsenic +cause death? Of a club man, no, not +necessarily. That was all.</p> + +<p>The other testimony submitted to the +inquest jury brought out various facts of a +substantive character, but calculated rather to +complicate than to unravel the mystery. The +butler swore that on the very day of the +murder he had served his master a half-pint +of arsenic at lunch. But he claimed that this +was quite a usual happening with his master. +On cross-examination it appeared that he meant +apollinaris. He was certain, however, that it +was half a pint. The butler, it was shown, +had been in Kivas Kelly's employ for twenty +years.</p> + +<p>The coachman, an Irishman, was closely +questioned. He had been in Mr. Kelly's employ +for three years—ever since his arrival +from the old country. Was it true that he had +had, on the day of the murder, a violent quarrel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +with his master? It was. Had he threatened +to kill him? No. He had threatened to knock +his block off, but not to kill him.</p> + +<p>The coroner looked at his notes. "Call +Alice Delary," he commanded. There was +a deep sensation in the court as Miss Delary +quietly stepped forward to her place in the +witness-box.</p> + +<p>Tall, graceful and willowy, Alice Delary was +in her first burst of womanhood. Those who +looked at the beautiful girl realized that if her +first burst was like this, what would the second, +or the third be like?</p> + +<p>The girl was trembling, and evidently distressed, +but she gave her evidence in a clear, +sweet, low voice. She had been in Mr. Kelly's +employ three years. She was his stenographer. +But she came only in the mornings and always +left at lunch-time. The question immediately +asked by the jury—"Where did she generally +have lunch?"—was disallowed by the coroner. +Asked by a member of the jury what system of +shorthand she used, she answered, "Pitman's." +Asked by another juryman whether she ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +cared to go to moving pictures, she said that +she went occasionally. This created a favourable +impression. "Miss Delary," said the +district attorney, "I want to ask if it is your +hat that was found hanging in the billiard-room +after the crime?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you dare ask that girl that," interrupted +the magistrate. "Miss Delary, you may +step down."</p> + +<p>But the principal sensation of the day arose +out of the evidence offered by Masterman +Throgton, general manager of the <i>Planet</i>. +Kivas Kelly, he testified, had dined with him +at his club on the fateful evening. He had +afterwards driven him to his home.</p> + +<p>"When you went into the house with the +deceased," asked the district attorney, "how +long did you remain there with him?"</p> + +<p>"That," said Throgton quietly, "I must +refuse to answer."</p> + +<p>"Would it incriminate you?" asked the +coroner, leaning forward.</p> + +<p>"It might," said Throgton.</p> + +<p>"Then you're perfectly right not to answer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +it," said the coroner. "Don't ask him that +any more. Ask something else."</p> + +<p>"Then did you," questioned the attorney, +turning to Throgton again, "play a game of +billiards with the deceased?"</p> + +<p>"Stop, stop," said the coroner, "that +question I can't allow. It's too direct, too +brutal; there's something about that question, +something mean, dirty. Ask another."</p> + +<p>"Very good," said the attorney. "Then +tell me, Mr. Throgton, if you ever saw this +blue envelope before?" He held up in his +hand a long blue envelope.</p> + +<p>"Never in my life," said Throgton.</p> + +<p>"Of course he didn't," said the coroner. +"Let's have a look at it. What is it?"</p> + +<p>"This envelope, your Honour, was found +sticking out of the waistcoat pocket of the +deceased."</p> + +<p>"You don't say," said the coroner. "And +what's in it?"</p> + +<p>Amid breathless silence, the attorney drew +forth a sheet of blue paper, bearing a stamp, +and read:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + +<p>"This is the last will and testament of me, +Kivas Kelly of New York. I leave everything +of which I die possessed to my nephew, Peter +Kelly."</p> + +<p>The entire room gasped. No one spoke. +The coroner looked all around. "Has anybody +here seen Kelly?" he asked.</p> + +<p>There was no answer.</p> + +<p>The coroner repeated the question.</p> + +<p>No one moved.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Coroner," said the attorney, "it is +my opinion that if Peter Kelly is found the +mystery is fathomed."</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later the jury returned a verdict +of murder against a person or persons unknown, +adding that they would bet a dollar that Kelly +did it.</p> + +<p>The coroner ordered the butler to be +released, and directed the issue of a warrant +for the arrest of Peter Kelly.<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="IV_VI" id="IV_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h3> + +<h4>SHOW ME THE MAN WHO WORE THOSE BOOTS</h4> + +<p>The remains of the unhappy club man were +buried on the following day as reverently as +those of a club man can be. None followed +him to the grave except a few morbid curiosity-seekers, +who rode on top of the hearse.</p> + +<p>The great city turned again to its usual +avocations. The unfathomable mystery was +dismissed from the public mind.</p> + +<p>Meantime Transome Kent was on the trail. +Sleepless, almost foodless, and absolutely drinkless, +he was everywhere. He was looking for +Peter Kelly. Wherever crowds were gathered, +the Investigator was there, searching for Kelly. +In the great concourse of the Grand Central +Station, Kent moved to and fro, peering into +everybody's face. An official touched him on +the shoulder. "Stop peering into the people's +faces," he said. "I am unravelling a mystery," +Kent answered. "I beg your pardon, sir," +said the man, "I didn't know."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<p>Kent was here, and everywhere, moving +ceaselessly, pro and con, watching for Kelly. +For hours he stood beside the soda-water +fountains examining every drinker as he drank. +For three days he sat on the steps of Masterman +Throgton's home, disguised as a plumber +waiting for a wrench.</p> + +<p>But still no trace of Peter Kelly. Young +Kelly, it appeared, had lived with his uncle +until a little less than three years ago. Then +suddenly he had disappeared. He had vanished, +as a brilliant writer for the New York Press +framed it, as if the earth had swallowed +him up.</p> + +<p>Transome Kent, however, was not a man to +be baffled by initial defeat.</p> + +<p>A week later, the Investigator called in at +the office of Inspector Edwards.</p> + +<p>"Inspector," he said, "I must have some +more clues. Take me again to the Kelly +residence. I must re-analyse my first diæresis."</p> + +<p>Together the two friends went to the house. +"It is inevitable," said Kent, as they entered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +again the fateful billiard-room, "that we have +overlooked something."</p> + +<p>"We always do," said Edwards gloomily.</p> + +<p>"Now tell me," said Kent, as they stood beside +the billiard table, "what is your own theory, +the police theory, of this murder? Give me +your first theory first, and then go on with +the others."</p> + +<p>"Our first theory, Mr. Kent, was that the +murder was committed by a sailor with a +wooden leg, newly landed from Java."</p> + +<p>"Quite so, quite proper," nodded Kent.</p> + +<p>"We knew that he was a sailor," the Inspector +went on, dropping again into his sing-song +monotone, "by the extraordinary agility +needed to climb up the thirty feet of bare brick +wall to the window—a landsman could not have +climbed more than twenty; the fact that he +was from the East Indies we knew from the +peculiar knot about his victim's neck. We +knew that he had a wooden leg——"</p> + +<p>The Inspector paused and looked troubled.</p> + +<p>"We knew it." He paused again. "I'm +afraid I can't remember that one."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tut, tut," said Kent gently, "you knew it, +Edwards, because when he leaned against the +billiard table the impress of his hand on +the mahogany was deeper on one side than +the other. The man was obviously top heavy. +But you abandoned this first theory."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Mr. Kent, we always do. Our +second theory was——"</p> + +<p>But Kent had ceased to listen. He had +suddenly stooped down and picked up something +off the floor.</p> + +<p>"Ha ha!" he exclaimed. "What do you +make of this?" He held up a square fragment +of black cloth.</p> + +<p>"We never saw it," said Edwards.</p> + +<p>"Cloth," muttered Kent, "the missing piece +of Kivas Kelly's dinner jacket." He whipped +out a magnifying glass. "Look," he said, "it's +been stamped upon—by a man wearing hob-nailed +boots—made in Ireland—a man of five +feet nine and a half inches high——"</p> + +<p>"One minute, Mr. Kent," interrupted the +Inspector, greatly excited, "I don't quite get it."</p> + +<p>"The depth of the dint proves the lift of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +his foot," said Kent impatiently, "and the lift +of the foot indicates at once the man's height. +Edwards, find me the man who wore these +boots and the mystery is solved!"</p> + +<p>At that very moment a heavy step, unmistakably +to the trained ear that of a man in +hob-nailed boots, was heard upon the stair. +The door opened and a man stood hesitating +in the doorway.</p> + +<p>Both Kent and Edwards gave a start, two +starts, of surprise.</p> + +<p>The man was exactly five feet nine and a half +inches high. He was dressed in coachman's +dress. His face was saturnine and evil.</p> + +<p>It was Dennis, the coachman of the murdered +man.</p> + +<p>"If you're Mr. Kent," he said, "there's a +lady here asking for you." +<br /> +<br /> +</p> +<h3><a name="IV_VII" id="IV_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h3> + +<h4>OH, MR. KENT, SAVE ME!</h4> + +<p>In another moment an absolutely noiseless +step was heard upon the stair.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>A young girl entered, a girl, tall, willowy +and beautiful, in the first burst, or just about +the first burst, of womanhood.</p> + +<p>It was Alice Delary.</p> + +<p>She was dressed with extreme taste, but +Kent's quick eye noted at once that she wore +no hat.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Kent," she cried, "you are Mr. Kent, +are you not? They told me that you were +here. Oh, Mr. Kent, help me, save me!"</p> + +<p>She seemed to shudder into herself a +moment. Her breath came and went quickly.</p> + +<p>She reached out her two hands.</p> + +<p>"Calm yourself, my dear young lady," said +Kent, taking them. "Don't let your breath +come and go so much. Trust me. Tell +me all."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Kent," said Delary, regaining her control, +but still trembling, "I want my hat."</p> + +<p>Kent let go the beautiful girl's hands. "Sit +down," he said. Then he went across the +room and fetched the hat, the light gossamer +hat, with flowers in it, that still hung on a peg.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so glad to get it back," cried the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +girl. "I can never thank you enough. I was +afraid to come for it."</p> + +<p>"It is all right," said the Inspector. "The +police theory was that it was the housekeeper's +hat. You are welcome to it."</p> + +<p>Kent had been looking closely at the girl +before him.</p> + +<p>"You have more to say than that," he said. +"Tell me all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I will, I will, Mr. Kent. That dreadful +night! I was here. I saw, at least I heard +it all."</p> + +<p>She shuddered.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Kent, it was dreadful! I had +come back that evening to the library to finish +some work. I knew that Mr. Kelly was to +dine out and that I would be alone. I had +been working quietly for some time when I +became aware of voices in the billiard-room. +I tried not to listen, but they seemed to be +quarrelling, and I couldn't help hearing. Oh, +Mr. Kent, was I wrong?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Kent, taking her hand a moment, +"you were not."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I heard one say, 'Get your foot off the +table, you've no right to put your foot on the +table.' Then the other said, 'Well, you keep +your stomach off the cushion then.'" The +girl shivered. "Then presently one said, quite +fiercely, 'Get back into balk there, get back +fifteen inches,' and the other voice said, 'By +God! I'll shoot from here.' Then there was a +dead stillness, and then a voice almost screamed, +'You've potted me. You've potted me. That +ends it.' And then I heard the other say in a +low tone, 'Forgive me, I didn't mean it. I +never meant it to end that way.'</p> + +<p>"I was so frightened, Mr. Kent, I couldn't +stay any longer. I rushed downstairs and ran +all the way home. Then next day I read what +had happened, and I knew that I had left my +hat there, and was afraid. Oh, Mr. Kent, +save me!"</p> + +<p>"Miss Delary," said the Investigator, taking +again the girl's hands and looking into her +eyes, "you are safe. Tell me only one thing. +The man who played against Kivas Kelly—did +you see him?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Only for one moment"—the girl paused—"through +the keyhole."</p> + +<p>"What was he like?" asked Kent. "Had he +an impenetrable face?"</p> + +<p>"He had."</p> + +<p>"Was there anything massive about his +face?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, yes, it was all massive."</p> + +<p>"Miss Delary," said Kent, "this mystery is +now on the brink of solution. When I have +joined the last links of the chain, may I come +and tell you all?"</p> + +<p>She looked full in his face.</p> + +<p>"At any hour of the day or night," she said, +"you may come."</p> + +<p>Then she was gone. +<br /> +<br /> +</p> + +<h3><a name="IV_VIII" id="IV_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h3> +<h4>YOU ARE PETER KELLY</h4> + +<p>Within a few moments Kent was at the +phone.</p> + +<p>"I want four, four, four, four. Is that four,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +four, four, four? Mr. Throgton's house? I +want Mr. Throgton. Mr. Throgton speaking? +Mr. Throgton, Kent speaking. The Riverside +mystery is solved."</p> + +<p>Kent waited in silence a moment. Then +he heard Throgton's voice—not a note in it +disturbed:</p> + +<p>"Has anybody found Kelly?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Throgton," said Kent, and he spoke +with a strange meaning in his tone, "the story +is a long one. Suppose I relate it to you"—he +paused, and laid a peculiar emphasis on what +followed—"<i>over a game of billiards</i>."</p> + +<p>"What the devil do you mean?" answered +Throgton.</p> + +<p>"Let me come round to your house and tell +the story. There are points in it that I can +best illustrate over a billiard table. Suppose +I challenge you to a fifty point game before I +tell my story."</p> + +<p class="tb">* * * * *</p> + +<p>It required no little hardihood to challenge +Masterman Throgton at billiards. His reputation +at his club as a cool, determined player<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +was surpassed by few. Throgton had been +known to run nine, ten, and even twelve at a +break. It was not unusual for him to drive +his ball clear off the table. His keen eye told +him infallibly where each of the three balls +was; instinctively he knew which to shoot with.</p> + +<p>In Kent, however, he had no mean adversary. +The young reporter, though he had never +played before, had studied his book to some +purpose. His strategy was admirable. Keeping +his ball well under the shelter of the cushion, +he eluded every stroke of his adversary, and in +his turn caused his ball to leap or dart across +the table with such speed as to bury itself in +the pocket at the side.</p> + +<p>The score advanced rapidly, both players +standing precisely equal. At the end of the +first half-hour it stood at ten all. Throgton, a +grim look upon his face, had settled down to +work, playing with one knee on the table. +Kent, calm but alive with excitement, leaned +well forward to his stroke, his eye held within +an inch of the ball.</p> + +<p>At fifteen they were still even. Throgton<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +with a sudden effort forced a break of three; +but Kent rallied and in another twenty minutes +they were even again at nineteen all.</p> + +<p>But it was soon clear that Transome Kent +had something else in mind than to win the +game. Presently his opportunity came. With +a masterly stroke, such as few trained players +could use, he had potted his adversary's ball. +The red ball was left over the very jaws of +the pocket. The white was in the centre.</p> + +<p>Kent looked into Throgton's face.</p> + +<p>The balls were standing in the very same +position on the table as on the night of the +murder.</p> + +<p>"I did that on purpose," said Kent quietly.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Throgton.</p> + +<p>"The position of those balls," said Kent. +"Mr. Throgton, come into the library. I have +something to say to you. You know already +what it is."</p> + +<p>They went into the library. Throgton, his +hand unsteady, lighted a cigar.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "what is it?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Throgton," said Kent, "two weeks ago<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +you gave me a mystery to solve. To-night I +can give you the solution. Do you want it?"</p> + +<p>Throgton's face never moved.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said.</p> + +<p>"A man's life," Kent went on, "may be +played out on a billiard table. A man's soul, +Throgton, may be pocketed."</p> + +<p>"What devil's foolery is this?" said Throgton. +"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that your crime is known—plotter, +schemer that you are, you are found out—hypocrite, +traitor; yes, Masterman Throgton, +or rather—let me give you your true name-<i>Peter +Kelly</i>, murderer, I denounce you!"</p> + +<p>Throgton never flinched. He walked across +to where Kent stood, and with his open palm +he slapped him over the mouth.</p> + +<p>"Transome Kent," he said, "you're a liar."</p> + +<p>Then he walked back to his chair and sat +down.</p> + +<p>"Kent," he continued, "from the first moment +of your mock investigation, I knew who +you were. Your every step was shadowed, +your every movement dogged. Transome<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +Kent—by your true name, <i>Peter Kelly</i>, murderer, +I denounce you."</p> + +<p>Kent walked quietly across to Throgton and +dealt him a fearful blow behind the ear.</p> + +<p>"You're a liar," he said, "I am not Peter +Kelly."</p> + +<p>They sat looking at one another.</p> + +<p>At that moment Throgton's servant appeared +at the door.</p> + +<p>"A gentleman to see you, sir."</p> + +<p>"Who?" said Throgton.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir, he gave his card."</p> + +<p>Masterman Throgton took the card.</p> + +<p>On it was printed:</p> + +<p class="center"><i>PETER KELLY</i> +<br /> +<br /> +</p> + + +<h3><a name="IV_IX" id="IV_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h3> + +<h4>LET ME TELL YOU THE STORY OF MY LIFE</h4> + + +<p>For a moment Throgton and Kent sat +looking at one another.</p> + +<p>"Show the man up," said Throgton.</p> + +<p>A minute later the door opened and a man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +entered. Kent's keen eye analysed him as +he stood. His blue clothes, his tanned face, +and the extraordinary dexterity of his fingers +left no doubt of his calling. He was a +sailor.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," said Throgton.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said the sailor, "it rests my +wooden leg."</p> + +<p>The two men looked again. One of the +sailor's legs was made of wood. With a start +Kent noticed that it was made of East Indian +sandalwood.</p> + +<p>"I've just come from Java," said Kelly +quietly, as he sat down.</p> + +<p>Kent nodded. "I see it all now," he said. +"Throgton, I wronged you. We should have +known it was a sailor with a wooden leg from +Java. There is no other way."</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said Peter Kelly, "I've come +to make my confession. It is the usual and +right thing to do, gentlemen, and I want to go +through with it while I can."</p> + +<p>"One moment," said Kent, "do you mind +interrupting yourself with a hacking cough?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," said Kelly, "I'll get to +that a little later. Let me begin by telling you +the story of my life."</p> + +<p>"No, no," urged Throgton and Kent, "don't +do that!"</p> + +<p>Kelly frowned. "I think I have a right to," +he said. "You've got to hear it. As a boy I +had a wild, impulsive nature. Had it been +curbed——"</p> + +<p>"But it wasn't," said Throgton. "What +next?"</p> + +<p>"I was the sole relative of my uncle, and +heir to great wealth. Pampered with every +luxury, I was on a footing of——"</p> + +<p>"One minute," interrupted Kent, rapidly +analysing as he listened. "How many legs had +you then?"</p> + +<p>"Two—on a footing of ease and indolence. +I soon lost——"</p> + +<p>"Your leg," said Throgton. "Mr. Kelly, +pray come to the essential things."</p> + +<p>"I will," said the sailor. "Gentlemen, bad +as I was, I was not altogether bad."</p> + +<p>"Of course not," said Kent and Throgton<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +soothingly. "Probably not more than ninety +per cent."</p> + +<p>"Even into my life, gentlemen, love entered. +If you had seen her you would have known that +she is as innocent as the driven snow. Three +years ago she came to my uncle's house. I +loved her. One day, hardly knowing what I +was doing, I took her——" he paused.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said Throgton and Kent, "you +took her?"</p> + +<p>"To the Aquarium. My uncle heard of it. +There was a violent quarrel. He disinherited +me and drove me from the house. I had a +liking for the sea from a boy."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," said Kent, "from what boy?"</p> + +<p>Kelly went right on. "I ran away as a sailor +before the mast."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," interrupted Kent, "I am not +used to sea terms. Why didn't you run <i>behind</i> +the mast?"</p> + +<p>"Hear me out," said Kelly, "I am nearly +done. We sailed for the East Indies—for +Java. There a Malay pirate bit off my leg. +I returned home, bitter, disillusioned, the mere<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +wreck that you see. I had but one thought. I +meant to kill my uncle."</p> + +<p>For a moment a hacking cough interrupted +Kelly. Kent and Throgton nodded quietly to +one another.</p> + +<p>"I came to his house at night. With the +aid of my wooden leg I scaled the wall, lifted +the window and entered the billiard-room. +There was murder in my heart. Thank God +I was spared from that. At the very moment +when I got in, a light was turned on in the +room and I saw before me—but no, I will +not name her—my better angel. 'Peter!' she +cried, then with a woman's intuition she exclaimed, +'You have come to murder your uncle. +Don't do it.' My whole mood changed. I +broke down and cried like a—like a——"</p> + +<p>Kelly paused a moment.</p> + +<p>"Like a boob," said Kent softly. "Go +on."</p> + +<p>"When I had done crying, we heard voices. +'Quick,' she exclaimed, 'flee, hide, he must not +see you.' She rushed into the adjoining room, +closing the door. My eye had noticed already<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +the trap above. I climbed up to it. Shall I +explain how?"</p> + +<p>"Don't," said Kent, "I can analyse it +afterwards."</p> + +<p>"There I saw what passed. I saw Mr. +Throgton and Kivas Kelly come in. I watched +their game. They were greatly excited and +quarrelled over it. Throgton lost."</p> + +<p>The big man nodded with a scowl. "By his +potting the white," he said.</p> + +<p>"Precisely," said Kelly, "he missed the red. +Your analysis was wrong, Mr. Kent. The game +ended. You started your reasoning from a false +diæresis. In billiards people never mark the +last point. The board still showed ninety-nine +all. Throgton left and my uncle, as +often happens, kept trying over the last shot—a +half-ball shot, sir, with the red over the +pocket. He tried again and again. He +couldn't make it. He tried various ways. His +rest was too unsteady. Finally he made his tie +into a long loop round his neck and put his cue +through it. 'Now, by gad!' he said, 'I can +do it.'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ha!" said Kent. "Fool that I was."</p> + +<p>"Exactly," continued Kelly. "In the excitement +of watching my uncle I forgot where +I was, I leaned too far over and fell out of the +trap. I landed on uncle, just as he was sitting +on the table to shoot. He fell."</p> + +<p>"I see it all!" said Kent. "He hit his +head, the loop tightened, the cue spun round +and he was dead."</p> + +<p>"That's it," said Kelly. "I saw that he +was dead, and I did not dare to remain. I +straightened the knot in his tie, laid his hands +reverently across his chest, and departed as I +had come."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Kelly," said Throgton thoughtfully, +"the logic of your story is wonderful. It +exceeds anything in its line that I have seen published +for months. But there is just one point +that I fail to grasp. The two bullet holes?"</p> + +<p>"They were old ones," answered the sailor +quietly. "My uncle in his youth had led a +wild life in the west; he was full of them."</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment. Then Kelly +spoke again:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My time, gentlemen, is short." (A hacking +cough interrupted him.) "I feel that I am +withering. It rests with you, gentlemen, +whether or not I walk out of this room a free +man."</p> + +<p>Transome Kent rose and walked over to the +sailor.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Kelly," he said, "here is my hand." +<br /> +<br /> +</p> + +<h3><a name="IV_X" id="IV_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h3> + +<h4>SO DO I</h4> + +<p>A few days after the events last narrated, +Transome Kent called at the boarding-house of +Miss Alice Delary. The young Investigator +wore a light grey tweed suit, with a salmon-coloured +geranium in his buttonhole. There +was something exultant yet at the same time +grave in his expression, as of one who has +taken a momentous decision, affecting his +future life.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," he murmured, "whether I am +acting for my happiness."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<p>He sat down for a moment on the stone +steps and analysed himself.</p> + +<p>Then he rose.</p> + +<p>"I am," he said, and rang the bell.</p> + +<p>"Miss Delary?" said a maid, "she left here +two days ago. If you are Mr. Kent, the note +on the mantelpiece is for you."</p> + +<p>Without a word (Kent never wasted them) +the Investigator opened the note and read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Kent</span>,<br /> + +"Peter and I were married yesterday +morning, and have taken an apartment in Java, +New Jersey. You will be glad to hear that +Peter's cough is ever so much better. The +lawyers have given Peter his money without the +least demur.</p> + +<p>"We both feel that your analysis was simply +wonderful. Peter says he doesn't know where +he would be without it.</p> + +<p>"Very sincerely,</p> + +<p style="text-align:right">"<span class="smcap">Alice Kelly</span>.</p> + +<p>"P.S.—I forgot to mention to you that I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +saw Peter in the billiard-room. But your +analysis was marvellous just the same."</p></div> + +<p class="tb">* * * * *</p> + +<p>That evening Kent sat with Throgton talking +over the details of the tragedy.</p> + +<p>"Throgton," he said, "it has occurred to me +that there were points about that solution that +we didn't get exactly straight somehow."</p> + +<p>"So do I," said Throgton. +<br /><br /> +<br /> +<br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> +<div class="innerbox"> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2> + +<h3><i>BROKEN BARRIERS</i></h3> + +<h4><i>OR, RED LOVE ON A BLUE ISLAND</i></h4> + +<p class="center">(<i>The kind of thing that has replaced the good Old Sea Story</i>)</p> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was on a bright August afternoon that +I stepped on board the steamer <i>Patagonia</i> +at Southampton outward bound for the +West Indies and the Port of New +Orleans.</p> + +<p>I had at the time no presentiment of disaster. +I remember remarking to the ship's purser, as +my things were being carried to my state-room, +that I had never in all my travels entered upon +any voyage with so little premonition of accident. +"Very good, Mr. Borus," he answered. +"You will find your state-room in the starboard +aisle on the right." I distinctly recall remarking +to the Captain that I had never, in any of +my numerous seafarings, seen the sea of a more +limpid blue. He agreed with me so entirely,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +as I recollect it, that he did not even trouble +to answer.</p> + +<p>Had anyone told me on that bright summer +afternoon that our ship would within a week +be wrecked among the Dry Tortugas, I should +have laughed. Had anyone informed me that I +should find myself alone on a raft in the Caribbean +Sea, I should have gone into hysterics.</p> + +<p>We had hardly entered the waters of the +Caribbean when a storm of unprecedented violence +broke upon us. Even the Captain had +never, so he said, seen anything to compare +with it. For two days and nights we encountered +and endured the full fury of the sea. +Our soup plates were secured with racks and +covered with lids. In the smoking-room our +glasses had to be set in brackets, and as our +steward came and went, we were from moment +to moment in imminent danger of seeing him +washed overboard.</p> + +<p>On the third morning just after daybreak the +ship collided with something, probably either +a floating rock or one of the dry Tortugas. +She blew out her four funnels, the bowsprit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +dropped out of its place, and the propeller +came right off. The Captain, after a brief +consultation, decided to abandon her. The +boats were lowered, and, the sea being now quite +calm, the passengers were emptied into them.</p> + +<p>By what accident I was left behind I cannot +tell. I had been talking to the second mate +and telling him of a rather similar experience +of mine in the China Sea, and holding him by +the coat as I did so, when quite suddenly he +took me by the shoulders, and rushing me into +the deserted smoking-room said, "Sit there, +Mr. Borus, till I come back for you." The +fellow spoke in such a menacing way that I +thought it wiser to comply.</p> + +<p>When I came out they were all gone. By +good fortune I found one of the ship's rafts +still lying on the deck. I gathered together +such articles as might be of use and contrived, +though how I do not know, to launch it into +the sea.</p> + +<p>On my second morning on my raft I was +sitting quietly polishing my boots and talking +to myself when I became aware of an object<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +floating in the sea close beside the raft. Judge +of my feelings when I realized it to be the +inanimate body of a girl. Hastily finishing +my boots and stopping talking to myself, I +made shift as best I could to draw the unhappy +girl towards me with a hook.</p> + +<p>After several ineffectual attempts I at last +managed to obtain a hold of the girl's clothing +and drew her on to the raft.</p> + +<p>She was still unconscious. The heavy lifebelt +round her person must (so I divined) have +kept her afloat after the wreck. Her clothes +were sodden, so I reasoned, with the sea-water.</p> + +<p>On a handkerchief which was still sticking +into the belt of her dress, I could see letters +embroidered. Realizing that this was no time +for hesitation, and that the girl's life might +depend on my reading her name, I plucked +it forth. It was Edith Croyden.</p> + +<p>As vigorously as I could I now set to work +to rub her hands. My idea was (partly) to restore +her circulation. I next removed her boots, +which were now rendered useless, as I argued, +by the sea-water, and began to rub her feet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> + +<p>I was just considering what to remove next, +when the girl opened her eyes. "Stop rubbing +my feet," she said.</p> + +<p>"Miss Croyden," I said, "you mistake +me."</p> + +<p>I rose, with a sense of pique which I did not +trouble to conceal, and walked to the other end +of the raft. I turned my back upon the girl +and stood looking out upon the leaden waters +of the Caribbean Sea. The ocean was now +calm. There was nothing in sight.</p> + +<p>I was still searching the horizon when I +heard a soft footstep on the raft behind me, +and a light hand was laid upon my shoulder. +"Forgive me," said the girl's voice.</p> + +<p>I turned about. Miss Croyden was standing +behind me. She had, so I argued, removed +her stockings and was standing in her bare feet. +There is something, I am free to confess, about +a woman in her bare feet which hits me where +I live. With instinctive feminine taste the girl +had twined a piece of seaweed in her hair. +Seaweed, as a rule, gets me every time. But +I checked myself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Miss Croyden," I said, "there is nothing +to forgive."</p> + +<p>At the mention of her name the girl blushed +for a moment and seemed about to say something, +but stopped.</p> + +<p>"Where are we?" she queried presently.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," I answered, as cheerily as +I could, "but I am going to find out."</p> + +<p>"How brave you are!" Miss Croyden +exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," I said, putting as much heartiness +into my voice as I was able to.</p> + +<p>The girl watched my preparations with +interest.</p> + +<p>With the aid of a bent pin hoisted on a long +pole I had no difficulty in ascertaining our +latitude.</p> + +<p>"Miss Croydon," I said, "I am now about +to ascertain our longitude. To do this I must +lower myself down into the sea. Pray do +not be alarmed or anxious. I shall soon be +back."</p> + +<p>With the help of a long line I lowered +myself deep down into the sea until I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +enabled to ascertain, approximately at any +rate, our longitude. A fierce thrill went through +me at the thought that this longitude was our +longitude, hers and mine. On the way up, +hand over hand, I observed a long shark looking +at me. Realizing that the fellow if +voracious might prove dangerous, I lost but +little time—indeed, I may say I lost absolutely +no time—in coming up the rope.</p> + +<p>The girl was waiting for me.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so glad you have come back," she +exclaimed, clasping her hands.</p> + +<p>"It was nothing," I said, wiping the water +from my ears, and speaking as melodiously as +I could.</p> + +<p>"Have you found our whereabouts?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered. "Our latitude is normal, +but our longitude is, I fear, at least three +degrees out of the plumb. I am afraid, Miss +Croyden," I added, speaking as mournfully as +I knew how, "that you must reconcile your +mind to spending a few days with me on this +raft."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is it as bad as that?" she murmured, her +eyes upon the sea.</p> + +<p>In the long day that followed, I busied myself +as much as I could with my work upon the +raft, so as to leave the girl as far as possible +to herself. It was, so I argued, absolutely +necessary to let her feel that she was safe +in my keeping. Otherwise she might jump off +the raft and I should lose her.</p> + +<p>I sorted out my various cans and tins, tested +the oil in my chronometer, arranged in neat +order my various ropes and apparatus, and got +my frying-pan into readiness for any emergency. +Of food we had for the present no lack.</p> + +<p>With the approach of night I realized that it +was necessary to make arrangements for the +girl's comfort. With the aid of a couple of +upright poles I stretched a grey blanket across +the raft so as to make a complete partition.</p> + +<p>"Miss Croyden," I said, "this end of the +raft is yours. Here you may sleep in +peace."</p> + +<p>"How kind you are," the girl murmured.</p> + +<p>"You will be quite safe from interference,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +I added. "I give you my word that I will not +obtrude upon you in any way."</p> + +<p>"How chivalrous you are," she said.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," I answered, as musically as I +could. "Understand me, I am now putting my +head over this partition for the last time. If +there is anything you want, say so now."</p> + +<p>"Nothing," she answered.</p> + +<p>"There is a candle and matches beside you. +If there is anything that you want in the night, +call me instantly. Remember, at any hour I +shall be here. I promise it."</p> + +<p>"Good night," she murmured. In a few +minutes her soft regular breathing told me that +she was asleep.</p> + +<p>I went forward and seated myself in a tar-bucket, +with my head against the mast, to get +what sleep I could.</p> + +<p>But for some time—why, I do not know—sleep +would not come.</p> + +<p>The image of Edith Croyden filled my mind. +In vain I told myself that she was a stranger +to me: that—beyond her longitude—I knew +nothing of her. In some strange way this girl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +had seized hold of me and dominated my +senses.</p> + +<p>The night was very calm and still, with great +stars in a velvet sky. In the darkness I could +hear the water lapping the edge of the raft.</p> + +<p>I remained thus in deep thought, sinking +further and further into the tar-bucket. By +the time I reached the bottom of it I realized +that I was in love with Edith Croyden.</p> + +<p>Then the thought of my wife occurred to me +and perplexed me. Our unhappy marriage had +taken place three years before. We brought to +one another youth, wealth and position. Yet +our marriage was a failure. My wife—for +what reason I cannot guess—seemed to find +my society irksome. In vain I tried to interest +her with narratives of my travels. They +seemed—in some way that I could not divine—to +fatigue her. "Leave me for a little, +Harold," she would say (I forgot to mention +that my name is Harold Borus), "I have a pain +in my neck." At her own suggestion I had +taken a trip around the world. On my return +she urged me to go round again. I was going<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +round for the third time when the wrecking of +the steamer had interrupted my trip.</p> + +<p>On my own part, too, I am free to confess +that my wife's attitude had aroused in me a +sense of pique, not to say injustice. I am not +in any way a vain man. Yet her attitude +wounded me. I would no sooner begin, +"When I was in the Himalayas hunting the +humpo or humped buffalo," than she would +interrupt and say, "Oh, Harold, would you +mind going down to the billiard-room and +seeing if I left my cigarettes under the +billiard-table?" When I returned, she was +gone.</p> + +<p>By agreement we had arranged for a divorce. +On my completion of my third voyage we were +to meet in New Orleans. Clara was to go +there on a separate ship, giving me the choice +of oceans.</p> + +<p>Had I met Edith Croyden three months +later I should have been a man free to woo +and win her. As it was I was bound. I must +put a clasp of iron on my feelings. I must +wear a mask. Cheerful, helpful, and full of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +narrative, I must yet let fall no word of love +to this defenceless girl.</p> + +<p>After a great struggle I rose at last from +the tar-bucket, feeling, if not a brighter, at +least a cleaner man.</p> + +<p>Dawn was already breaking. I looked about +me. As the sudden beams of the tropic sun +illumined the placid sea, I saw immediately +before me, only a hundred yards away, an +island. A sandy beach sloped back to a rocky +eminence, broken with scrub and jungle. I +could see a little stream leaping among the +rocks. With eager haste I paddled the raft +close to the shore till it ground in about ten +inches of water.</p> + +<p>I leaped into the water.</p> + +<p>With the aid of a stout line, I soon made +the raft fast to a rock. Then as I turned I +saw that Miss Croyden was standing upon the +raft, fully dressed, and gazing at me. The +morning sunlight played in her hair, and her +deep blue eyes were as soft as the Caribbean +Sea itself.</p> + +<p>"Don't attempt to wade ashore, Miss Croy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>den," +I cried in agitation. "Pray do nothing +rash. The waters are simply infested with +bacilli."</p> + +<p>"But how can I get ashore?" she asked, +with a smile which showed all, or nearly all, of +her pearl-like teeth.</p> + +<p>"Miss Croyden," I said, "there is only one +way. I must carry you."</p> + +<p>In another moment I had walked back to the +raft and lifted her as tenderly and reverently +as if she had been my sister—indeed more so—in +my arms.</p> + +<p>Her weight seemed nothing. When I get +a girl like that in my arms I simply don't feel +it. Just for one moment as I clasped her thus +in my arms, a fierce thrill ran through me. +But I let it run.</p> + +<p>When I had carried her well up the sand +close to the little stream, I set her down. To +my surprise, she sank down in a limp heap.</p> + +<p>The girl had fainted.</p> + +<p>I knew that it was no time for hesitation.</p> + +<p>Running to the stream, I filled my hat with +water and dashed it in her face. Then I took<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +up a handful of mud and threw it at her with +all my force. After that I beat her with my +hat.</p> + +<p>At length she opened her eyes and sat up.</p> + +<p>"I must have fainted," she said, with a little +shiver. "I am cold. Oh, if we could only +have a fire."</p> + +<p>"I will do my best to make one, Miss +Croyden," I replied, speaking as gymnastically +as I could. "I will see what I can do with +two dry sticks."</p> + +<p>"With dry sticks?" queried the girl. "Can +you light a fire with that? How wonderful +you are!"</p> + +<p>"I have often seen it done," I replied +thoughtfully; "when I was hunting the humpo, +or humped buffalo, in the Himalayas, it was +our usual method."</p> + +<p>"Have you really hunted the humpo?" she +asked, her eyes large with interest.</p> + +<p>"I have indeed," I said, "but you must +rest; later on I will tell you about it."</p> + +<p>"I wish you could tell me now," she said +with a little moan.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>Meantime I had managed to select from +the driftwood on the beach two sticks that +seemed absolutely dry. Placing them carefully +together, in Indian fashion, I then struck a +match and found no difficulty in setting them +on fire.</p> + +<p>In a few moments the girl was warming +herself beside a generous fire.</p> + +<p>Together we breakfasted upon the beach +beside the fire, discussing our plans like +comrades.</p> + +<p>Our meal over, I rose.</p> + +<p>"I will leave you here a little," I said, +"while I explore."</p> + +<p>With no great difficulty I made my way +through the scrub and climbed the eminence of +tumbled rocks that shut in the view.</p> + +<p>On my return Miss Croyden was still seated +by the fire, her head in her hands.</p> + +<p>"Miss Croyden," I said, "we are on an +island."</p> + +<p>"Is it inhabited?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Once, perhaps, but not now. It is one of +the many keys of the West Indies. Here, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +old buccaneering days, the pirates landed and +careened their ships."</p> + +<p>"How did they do that?" she asked, +fascinated.</p> + +<p>"I am not sure," I answered. "I think with +white-wash. At any rate, they gave them a +good careening. But since then these solitudes +are only the home of the sea-gull, the sea-mew, +and the albatross."</p> + +<p>The girl shuddered.</p> + +<p>"How lonely!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Lonely or not," I said with a laugh (luckily +I can speak with a laugh when I want to), "I +must get to work."</p> + +<p>I set myself to work to haul up and arrange +our effects. With a few stones I made a rude +table and seats. I took care to laugh and sing +as much as possible while at my work. The +close of the day found me still busy with my +labours.</p> + +<p>"Miss Croyden," I said, "I must now arrange +a place for you to sleep."</p> + +<p>With the aid of four stakes driven deeply +into the ground and with blankets strung upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +them, I managed to fashion a sort of rude tent, +roofless, but otherwise quite sheltered.</p> + +<p>"Miss Croyden," I said when all was done, +"go in there."</p> + +<p>Then, with little straps which I had fastened +to the blankets, I buckled her in reverently.</p> + +<p>"Good night, Miss Croyden," I said.</p> + +<p>"But you," she exclaimed, "where will you +sleep?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I?" I answered, speaking as exuberantly +as I could, "I shall do very well on the +ground. But be sure to call me at the slightest +sound."</p> + +<p>Then I went out and lay down in a patch of +cactus plants.</p> + +<p class="tb">* * * * *</p> + +<p>I need not dwell in detail upon the busy and +arduous days that followed our landing upon +the island. I had much to do. Each morning +I took our latitude and longitude. By this I +then set my watch, cooked porridge, and picked +flowers till Miss Croyden appeared.</p> + +<p>With every day the girl came forth from +her habitation as a new surprise in her radiant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +beauty. One morning she had bound a cluster +of wild arbutus about her brow. Another day +she had twisted a band of convolvulus around +her waist. On a third she had wound herself +up in a mat of bulrushes.</p> + +<p>With her bare feet and wild bulrushes all +around her, she looked as a cave woman might +have looked, her eyes radiant with the Caribbean +dawn. My whole frame thrilled at the +sight of her. At times it was all I could do +not to tear the bulrushes off her and beat +her with the heads of them. But I schooled +myself to restraint, and handed her a rock to +sit upon, and passed her her porridge on the end +of a shovel with the calm politeness of a friend.</p> + +<p>Our breakfast over, my more serious labours +of the day began. I busied myself with hauling +rocks or boulders along the sand to build +us a house against the rainy season. With +some tackle from the raft I had made myself +a set of harness, by means of which I hitched +myself to a boulder. By getting Miss Croyden +to beat me over the back with a stick, I found +that I made fair progress.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> + +<p>But even as I worked thus for our common +comfort, my mind was fiercely filled with the +thought of Edith Croyden. I knew that if once +the barriers broke everything would be swept +away. Heaven alone knows the effort that +it cost me. At times nothing but the sternest +resolution could hold my fierce impulses in +check. Once I came upon the girl writing in +the sand with a stick. I looked to see what +she had written. I read my own name "Harold." +With a wild cry I leapt into the sea +and dived to the bottom of it. When I came +up I was calmer. Edith came towards me; +all dripping as I was, she placed her hands +upon my shoulders. "How grand you are!" +she said. "I am," I answered; then I added, +"Miss Croyden, for Heaven's sake don't touch +me on the ear. I can't stand it." I turned +from her and looked out over the sea. Presently +I heard something like a groan behind +me. The girl had thrown herself on the sand +and was coiled up in a hoop. "Miss Croyden," +I said, "for God's sake don't coil up in a +hoop."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + +<p>I rushed to the beach and rubbed gravel on +my face.</p> + +<p>With such activities, alternated with wild +bursts of restraint, our life on the island passed +as rapidly as in a dream. Had I not taken +care to notch the days upon a stick and then +cover the stick with tar, I could not have known +the passage of the time. The wearing out of +our clothing had threatened a serious difficulty. +But by good fortune I had seen a large black +and white goat wandering among the rocks and +had chased it to a standstill. From its skin, +leaving the fur still on, Edith had fashioned +us clothes. Our boots we had replaced with +alligator hide. I had, by a lucky chance, found +an alligator upon the beach, and attaching a +string to the fellow's neck I had led him to our +camp. I had then poisoned the fellow with +tinned salmon and removed his hide.</p> + +<p>Our costume was now brought into harmony +with our surroundings. For myself, garbed in +goatskin with the hair outside, with alligator +sandals on my feet and with whiskers at least +six inches long, I have no doubt that I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +resembled the beau ideal of a cave man. With +the open-air life a new agility seemed to have +come into my limbs. With a single leap in my +alligator sandals I was enabled to spring into +a coco-nut tree.</p> + +<p>As for Edith Croyden, I can only say that +as she stood beside me on the beach in her +suit of black goatskin (she had chosen the +black spots) there were times when I felt like +seizing her in the frenzy of my passion and +hurling her into the sea. Fur always acts on +me just like that.</p> + +<p>It was at the opening of the fifth week of +our life upon the island that a new and more +surprising turn was given to our adventure. It +arose out of a certain curiosity, harmless +enough, on Edith Croyden's part. "Mr. +Borus," she said one morning, "I should like +so much to see the rest of our island. Can +we?"</p> + +<p>"Alas, Miss Croyden," I said, "I fear that +there is but little to see. Our island, so far as +I can judge, is merely one of the uninhabited +keys of the West Indies. It is nothing but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +rock and sand and scrub. There is no life upon +it. I fear," I added, speaking as jauntily as I +could, "that unless we are taken off it we are +destined to stay on it."</p> + +<p>"Still I should like to see it," she persisted.</p> + +<p>"Come on, then," I answered, "if you are +good for a climb we can take a look over the +ridge of rocks where I went up on the first +day."</p> + +<p>We made our way across the sand of the +beach, among the rocks and through the close +matted scrub, beyond which an eminence of +rugged boulders shut out the further view.</p> + +<p>Making our way to the top of this we +obtained a wide look over the sea. The island +stretched away to a considerable distance to +the eastward, widening as it went, the complete +view of it being shut off by similar and higher +ridges of rock.</p> + +<p>But it was the nearer view, the foreground, +that at once arrested our attention. Edith +seized my arm. "Look, oh, look!" she +said.</p> + +<p>Down just below us on the right hand was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +a similar beach to the one that we had left. +A rude hut had been erected on it and various +articles lay strewn about.</p> + +<p>Seated on a rock with their backs towards us +were a man and a woman. The man was +dressed in goatskins, and his whiskers, so I +inferred from what I could see of them from +the side, were at least as exuberant as mine. +The woman was in white fur with a fillet of +seaweed round her head. They were sitting +close together as if in earnest colloquy.</p> + +<p>"Cave people," whispered Edith, "aborigines +of the island."</p> + +<p>But I answered nothing. Something in the +tall outline of the seated woman held my eye. +A cruel presentiment stabbed me to the heart.</p> + +<p>In my agitation my foot overset a stone, +which rolled noisily down the rocks. The noise +attracted the attention of the two seated +below us. They turned and looked searchingly +towards the place where we were concealed. +Their faces were in plain sight. As I looked +at that of the woman I felt my heart cease +beating and the colour leave my face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + +<p>I looked into Edith's face. It was as pale +as mine.</p> + +<p>"What does it mean?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Miss Croyden," I answered, "Edith—it +means this. I have never found the courage +to tell you. I am a married man. The +woman seated there is my wife. And I +love you."</p> + +<p>Edith put out her arms with a low cry and +clasped me about the neck. "Harold," she +murmured, "my Harold."</p> + +<p>"Have I done wrong?" I whispered.</p> + +<p>"Only what I have done too," she answered. +"I, too, am married, Harold, and the man +sitting there below, John Croyden, is my +husband."</p> + +<p>With a wild cry such as a cave man might +have uttered, I had leapt to my feet.</p> + +<p>"Your husband!" I shouted. "Then, by +the living God, he or I shall never leave this +place alive."</p> + +<p>He saw me coming as I bounded down the +rocks. In an instant he had sprung to his feet. +He gave no cry. He asked no question. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +stood erect as a cave man would, waiting for +his enemy.</p> + +<p>And there upon the sands beside the sea +we fought, barehanded and weaponless. We +fought as cave men fight.</p> + +<p>For a while we circled round one another, +growling. We circled four times, each watching +for an opportunity. Then I picked up a +great handful of sand and threw it flap into +his face. He grabbed a coco-nut and hit me +with it in the stomach. Then I seized a twisted +strand of wet seaweed and landed him with it +behind the ear. For a moment he staggered. +Before he could recover I jumped forward, +seized him by the hair, slapped his face twice +and then leaped behind a rock. Looking from +the side I could see that Croyden, though half +dazed, was feeling round for something to +throw. To my horror I saw a great stone lying +ready to his hand. Beside me was nothing. +I gave myself up for lost, when at that very +moment I heard Edith's voice behind me saying, +"The shovel, quick, the shovel!" The +noble girl had rushed back to our encampment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +and had fetched me the shovel. "Swat him +with that," she cried. I seized the shovel, and +with the roar of a wounded bull—or as near +as I could make it—I rushed out from the rock, +the shovel swung over my head.</p> + +<p>But the fight was all out of Croyden.</p> + +<p>"Don't strike," he said, "I'm all in. I +couldn't stand a crack with that kind of +thing."</p> + +<p>He sat down upon the sand, limp. Seen +thus, he somehow seemed to be quite a small +man, not a cave man at all. His goatskin +suit shrunk in on him. I could hear his pants +as he sat.</p> + +<p>"I surrender," he said. "Take both the +women. They are yours."</p> + +<p>I stood over him leaning upon the shovel. +The two women had closed in near to us.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you are <i>her</i> husband, are you?" +Croyden went on.</p> + +<p>I nodded.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were. Take her."</p> + +<p>Meantime Clara had drawn nearer to me. +She looked somehow very beautiful with her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +golden hair in the sunlight, and the white furs +draped about her.</p> + +<p>"Harold!" she exclaimed. "Harold, is it +you? How strange and masterful you look. +I didn't know you were so strong."</p> + +<p>I turned sternly towards her.</p> + +<p>"When I was alone," I said, "on the Himalayas +hunting the humpo or humped buffalo——"</p> + +<p>Clara clasped her hands, looking into my +face.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "tell me about it."</p> + +<p>Meantime I could see that Edith had gone +over to John Croyden.</p> + +<p>"John," she said, "you shouldn't sit on the +wet sand like that. You will get a chill. Let +me help you to get up."</p> + +<p>I looked at Clara and at Croyden.</p> + +<p>"How has this happened?" I asked. "Tell +me."</p> + +<p>"We were on the same ship," Croyden said. +"There came a great storm. Even the Captain +had never seen——"</p> + +<p>"I know," I interrupted, "so had ours."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The ship struck a rock, and blew out her +four funnels——"</p> + +<p>"Ours did too," I nodded.</p> + +<p>"The bowsprit was broken, and the steward's +pantry was carried away. The Captain gave +orders to leave the ship——"</p> + +<p>"It is enough, Croyden," I said, "I see it all +now. You were left behind when the boats +cleared, by what accident you don't know——"</p> + +<p>"I don't," said Croyden.</p> + +<p>"As best you could, you constructed a raft, +and with such haste as you might you placed +on it such few things——"</p> + +<p>"Exactly," he said, "a chronometer, a +sextant——"</p> + +<p>"I know," I continued, "two quadrants, a +bucket of water, and a lightning rod. I presume +you picked up Clara floating in the sea."</p> + +<p>"I did," Croyden said; "she was unconscious +when I got her, but by rubbing——"</p> + +<p>"Croyden," I said, raising the shovel again, +"cut that out."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," he said.</p> + +<p>"It's all right. But you needn't go on. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +see all the rest of your adventures plainly +enough."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm done with it all anyway," said +Croyden gloomily. "You can do what you like. +As for me, I've got a decent suit back there +at our camp, and I've got it dried and pressed +and I'm going to put it on."</p> + +<p>He rose wearily, Edith standing beside him.</p> + +<p>"What's more, Borus," he said, "I'll tell +you something. This island is not uninhabited +at all."</p> + +<p>"Not uninhabited!" exclaimed Clara and +Edith together. I saw each of them give a +rapid look at her goatskin suit.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Croyden," I said, "this island is +one of the West Indian keys. On such a key +as this the pirates used to land. Here they +careened their ships——"</p> + +<p>"Did what to them?" asked Croyden.</p> + +<p>"Careened them all over from one end to the +other," I said. "Here they got water and +buried treasure; but beyond that the island was, +and remained, only the home of the wild gull +and the sea-mews——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p>"All right," said Croyden, "only it doesn't +happen to be that kind of key. It's a West +Indian island all right, but there's a summer +hotel on the other end of it not two miles away."</p> + +<p>"A summer hotel!" we exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a hotel. I suspected it all along. I +picked up a tennis racket on the beach the first +day; and after that I walked over the ridge +and through the jungle and I could see the +roof of the hotel. Only," he added rather +shamefacedly, "I didn't like to tell her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you coward!" cried Clara. "I could +slap you."</p> + +<p>"Don't you dare," said Edith. "I'm sure +you knew it as well as he did. And anyway, I +was certain of it myself. I picked up a copy of +last week's paper in a lunch-basket on the +beach, and hid it from Mr. Borus. I didn't +want to hurt his feelings."</p> + +<p>At that moment Croyden pointed with a cry +towards the sea.</p> + +<p>"Look," he said, "for Heaven's sake, look!"</p> + +<p>He turned.</p> + +<p>Less than a quarter of a mile away we could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +see a large white motor launch coming round +the corner. The deck was gay with awnings +and bright dresses and parasols.</p> + +<p>"Great Heavens!" said Croyden. "I know +that launch. It's the Appin-Joneses'."</p> + +<p>"The Appin-Joneses'!" cried Clara. "Why, +we know them too. Don't you remember, +Harold, the Sunday we spent with them on the +Hudson?"</p> + +<p>Instinctively we had all jumped for cover, +behind the rocks.</p> + +<p>"Whatever shall we do?" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"We must get our things," said Edith +Croyden. "Jack, if your suit is ready run and +get it and stop the launch. Mrs. Borus and +Mr. Borus and I can get our things straightened +up while you keep them talking. My suit is +nearly ready anyway; I thought some one +might come. Mr. Borus, would you mind +running and fetching me my things, they're all +in a parcel together? And perhaps if you have a +looking-glass and some pins, Mrs. Borus, I +could come over and dress with you."</p> + +<p class="tb">* * * * *</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + +<p>That same evening we found ourselves all +comfortably gathered on the piazza of the +Hotel Christopher Columbus. Appin-Jones +insisted on making himself our host, and the +story of our adventures was related again and +again to an admiring audience, with the accompaniment +of cigars and iced champagne. Only +one detail was suppressed, by common instinct. +Both Clara and I felt that it would only raise +needless comment to explain that Mr. and Mrs. +Croyden had occupied separate encampments.</p> + +<p>Nor is it necessary to relate our safe and +easy return to New York.</p> + +<p>Both Clara and I found Mr. and Mrs. +Croyden delightful travelling companions, +though perhaps we were not sorry when the +moment came to say good-bye.</p> + +<p>"The word 'good-bye,'" I remarked to +Clara, as we drove away, "is always a painful +one. Oddly enough when I was hunting the +humpo, or humped buffalo, of the Himalayas——"</p> + +<p>"Do tell me about it, darling," whispered +Clara, as she nestled beside me in the cab. +<br /> +<br /><br /> +<br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> +<div class="innerbox"> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a><i>VI</i></h2> + +<h2><i>THE KIDNAPPED PLUMBER</i></h2> + +<h3><i>A TALE OF THE NEW TIME</i></h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>Being one chapter—and quite enough—-from the Reminiscences +of an Operating Plumber</i>)</p> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Personally," said Thornton, speaking +for the first time, "I never care +to take a case that involves cellar +work."</p> + +<p>We were sitting—a little group of us—round +about the fire in a comfortable corner of +the Steam and Air Club. Our talk had turned, +as always happens with a group of professional +men, into more or less technical channels. I +will not say that we were talking shop; the +word has an offensive sound and might be misunderstood. +But we were talking as only a +group of practising plumbers—including some +of the biggest men in the profession—would +talk. With the exception of Everett, who had +a national reputation as a Consulting Barber, +and Thomas, who was a vacuum cleaner ex<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>pert, +I think we all belonged to the same profession. +We had been holding a convention, +and Fortescue, who had one of the biggest +furnace practices in the country, had read us a +paper that afternoon—a most revolutionary +thing—on External Diagnosis of Defective +Feed Pipes, and naturally the thing had bred +discussion. Fortescue, who is one of the most +brilliant men in the profession, had stoutly +maintained his thesis that the only method of +diagnosis for trouble in a furnace is to sit down +in front of it and look at it for three days; +others held out for unscrewing it and carrying +it home for consideration; others of us, again, +claimed that by tapping the affected spot with +a wrench the pipe might be fractured in such +a way as to prove that it was breakable. It +was at this point that Thornton interrupted +with his remark about never being willing to +accept a cellar case.</p> + +<p>Naturally all the men turned to look at the +speaker. Henry Thornton, at the time of +which I relate, was at the height of his reputation. +Beginning, quite literally, at the bottom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +of the ladder, he had in twenty years of +practice as an operating plumber raised himself +to the top of his profession. There was much +in his appearance to suggest the underlying +reasons of his success. His face, as is usual +with men of our calling, had something of the +dreamer in it, but the bold set of the jaw indicated +determination of an uncommon kind. +Three times President of the Plumbers' Association, +Henry Thornton had enjoyed the +highest honours of his chosen profession. His +book on <i>Nut Coal</i> was recognized as the last +word on the subject, and had been crowned +by the French Academy of Nuts.</p> + +<p>I suppose that one of the principal reasons +for his success was his singular coolness and +resource. I have seen Thornton enter a +kitchen, with that quiet reassuring step of his, +and lay out his instruments on the table, while +a kitchen tap with a broken washer was sprizzling +within a few feet of him, as calmly and as +quietly as if he were in his lecture-room of the +Plumbers' College.</p> + +<p>"You never go into a cellar?" asked Fortes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>cue. +"But hang it, man, I don't see how one +can avoid it!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I do avoid it," answered Thornton, +"at least as far as I possibly can. I send down +my solderist, of course, but personally, unless +it is absolutely necessary, I never go down."</p> + +<p>"That's all very well, my dear fellow," +Fortescue cut in, "but you know as well as I do +that you get case after case where the cellar +diagnosis is simply vital. I had a case last +week, a most interesting thing—" he turned +to the group of us as he spoke—"a double +lesion of a gas-pipe under a cement floor—half a +dozen of my colleagues had been absolutely +baffled. They had made an entirely false +diagnosis, operated on the dining-room floor, +which they removed and carried home, and +when I was called in they had just obtained +permission from the Stone Mason's Protective +Association to knock down one side of the +house."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me interrupting just a minute," +interjected a member of the group who hailed +from a distant city, "have you much trouble<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +about that? I mean about knocking the sides +out of houses?"</p> + +<p>"No trouble now," said Fortescue. "We did +have. But the public is getting educated up to +it. Our law now allows us to knock the side +out of a house when we feel that we would +really like to see what is in it. We are not +allowed, of course, to build it up again."</p> + +<p>"No, of course not," said the other speaker. +"But I suppose you can throw the bricks out +on the lawn."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Fortescue, "and sit on them to +eat lunch. We had a big fight in the legislature +over that, but we got it through."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, but I feel I am interrupting."</p> + +<p>"Well, I was only saying that, as soon as I +had made up my mind that the trouble was in +the cellar, the whole case was simple. I took +my colleagues down at once, and we sat on the +floor of the cellar and held a consultation till +the overpowering smell of gas convinced me +that there was nothing for it but an operation +on the floor. The whole thing was most successful. +I was very glad, as it happened that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +the proprietor of the house was a very decent +fellow, employed, I think, as a manager of a +bank, or something of the sort. He was most +grateful. It was he who gave me the engraved +monkey wrench that some of you were admiring +before dinner. After we had finished the +whole operation—I forgot to say that we had +thrown the coal out on the lawn to avoid any +complication—he quite broke down. He offered +us to take his whole house and keep it."</p> + +<p>"You don't do that, do you?" asked the +outsider.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, never," said Fortescue. "We've +made a very strict professional rule against it. +We found that some of the younger men were +apt to take a house when they were given it, +and we had to frown down on it. But, gentlemen, +I feel that when Mr. Thornton says that +he never goes down into a cellar there must +be a story behind it. I think we should invite +him to relate it to us."</p> + +<p>A murmur of assent greeted the speaker's +suggestion. For myself I was particularly +pleased, inasmuch as I have long felt that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +Thornton as a <i>raconteur</i> was almost as interesting +as in the rôle of an operating plumber. +I have often told him that, if he had not happened +to meet success in his chosen profession, +he could have earned a living as a day writer: +a suggestion which he has always taken in good +part and without offence.</p> + +<p>Those of my readers who have looked +through the little volume of Reminiscences +which I have put together, will recall the narrative +of <i>The Missing Nut</i> and the little tale +entitled <i>The Blue Blow Torch</i> as instances in +point.</p> + +<p>"Not much of a story, perhaps," said Thornton, +"but such as it is you are welcome to it. +So, if you will just fill up your glasses with +raspberry vinegar, you may have the tale for +what it is worth."</p> + +<p>We gladly complied with the suggestion and +Thornton continued:</p> + +<p>"It happened a good many years ago at a +time when I was only a young fellow fresh +from college, very proud of my Plumb. B., and +inclined to think that I knew it all. I had done<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +a little monograph on <i>Choked Feed in the Blow +Torch</i>, which had attracted attention, and I +suppose that altogether I was about as conceited +a young puppy as one would find in the +profession. I should mention that at this time +I was not married, but had set up a modest +apartment of my own with a consulting-room +and a single manservant. Naturally I could +not afford the services of a solderist or a gassist +and did everything for myself, though Simmons, +my man, could at a pinch be utilized +to tear down plaster and break furniture."</p> + +<p>Thornton paused to take a sip of raspberry +vinegar and went on:</p> + +<p>"Well, then. I had come home to dinner +particularly tired after a long day. I had sat +in an attic the greater part of the afternoon (a +case of top story valvular trouble) and had +had to sit in a cramped position which practically +forbade sleep. I was feeling, therefore, +none too well pleased, when a little while after +dinner the bell rang and Simmons brought +word to the library that there was a client in +the consulting-room. I reminded the fellow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +that I could not possibly consider a case at +such an advanced hour unless I were paid +emergency overtime wages with time and a +half during the day of recovery."</p> + +<p>"One moment," interrupted the outside +member. "You don't mention compensation +for mental shock. Do you not draw that +here?"</p> + +<p>"We do <i>now</i>" explained Thornton, "but +the time of which I speak is some years ago +and we still got nothing for mental shock, +nor disturbance of equilibrium. Nowadays, +of course, one would insist on a substantial +retainer in advance.</p> + +<p>"Well, to continue. Simmons, to my surprise, +told me that he had already informed +the client of this fact, and that the answer had +only been a plea that the case was too urgent +to admit of delay. He also supplied the +further information that the client was a young +lady. I am afraid," added Thornton, looking +round his audience with a sympathetic smile, +"that Simmons (I had got him from Harvard +and he had not yet quite learned his place)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +even said something about her being strikingly +handsome."</p> + +<p>A general laugh greeted Thornton's announcement.</p> + +<p>"After all," said Fortescue, "I never could +see why an Ice Man should be supposed to +have a monopoly on gallantry."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," said Thornton. "For +my part—I say it without affectation—the +moment I am called in professionally, women, +as women, cease to exist for me. I can stand +beside them in the kitchen and explain to them +the feed tap of a kitchen range without feeling +them to be anything other than simply clients. +And for the most part, I think, they reciprocate +that attention. There are women, of course, +who will call a man in with motives—but that's +another story. I must get back to what I was +saying.</p> + +<p>"On entering the consulting-room I saw at +once that Simmons had exaggerated nothing +in describing my young client as beautiful. I +have seldom, even among our own class, seen +a more strikingly handsome girl. She was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +dressed in a very plain and simple fashion +which showed me at once that she belonged +merely to the capitalist class. I am, as I think +you know, something of an observer, and my +eye at once noted the absence of heavy gold +ear-rings and wrist-bangles. The blue feathers +at the side of her hat were none of them more +than six inches long, and the buttons on her +jacket were so inconspicuous that one would +hardly notice them. In short, while her dress +was no doubt good and serviceable, there was +an absence of <i>chic</i>, a lack of noise about it, that +told at once the tale of narrow circumstances.</p> + +<p>"She was evidently in great distress.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, Mr. Thornton,' she exclaimed, advancing +towards me, 'do come to our house +at once. I simply don't know what to do.'</p> + +<p>"She spoke with great emotion, and seemed +almost on the point of breaking into tears.</p> + +<p>"'Pray, calm yourself, my dear young +lady,' I said, 'and try to tell me what is the +trouble.'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, don't lose any time,' she said, 'do, do +come at once.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'We will lose no time' I said reassuringly, +as I looked at my watch. 'It is now seven-thirty. +We will reckon the time from now, +with overtime at time and a half. But if I +am to do anything for you I must have some +idea of what has happened.'</p> + +<p>"'The cellar boiler,' she moaned, clasping +her hands together, 'the cellar boiler won't +work!'</p> + +<p>"'Ah!' I said soothingly. 'The cellar boiler +won't work. Now tell me, is the feed choked, +miss?'</p> + +<p>"'I don't know,' she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"'Have you tried letting off the exhaust?'</p> + +<p>"She shook her head with a doleful look.</p> + +<p>"'I don't know what it is,' she said.</p> + +<p>"But already I was hastily gathering together +a few instruments, questioning her rapidly as I +did so.</p> + +<p>"'How's your pressure gauge?' I asked. +'How's your water? Do you draw from +the mains or are you on the high level +reservoir?'</p> + +<p>"It had occurred to me at once that it might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +be merely a case of stoppage of her main feed, +complicated, perhaps, with a valvular trouble in +her exhaust. On the other hand it was clear +enough that, if her feed was full and her +gauges working, her trouble was more likely +a leak somewhere in her piping.</p> + +<p>"But all attempts to draw from the girl any +clear idea of the symptoms were unavailing. +All she could tell me was that the cellar boiler +wouldn't work. Beyond that her answers were +mere confusion. I gathered enough, however, +to feel sure that her main feed was still working, +and that her top story check valve was probably +in order. With that I had to be content.</p> + +<p>"As a young practitioner, I had as yet no +motor car. Simmons, however, summoned me +a taxi, into which I hurriedly placed the girl +and my basket of instruments, and was soon +speeding in the direction she indicated. It +was a dark, lowering night, with flecks of rain +against the windows of the cab, and there was +something in the lateness of the hour (it was +now after half-past eight) and the nature of +my mission which gave me a stimulating sense<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +of adventure. The girl directed me, as I felt +sure she would, towards the capitalist quarter +of the town. We had soon sped away from +the brightly lighted streets and tall apartment +buildings among which my usual practice lay, +and entered the gloomy and dilapidated section +of the city where the unhappy capitalist class +reside. I need not remind those of you who +know it that it is scarcely a cheerful place to +find oneself in after nightfall. The thick +growth of trees, the silent gloom of the ill-lighted +houses, and the rank undergrowth of +shrubs give it an air of desolation, not to say +danger. It is certainly not the place that a +professional man would choose to be abroad in +after dark. The inhabitants, living, so it is +said, on their scanty dividends and on such +parts of their income as our taxation is still +unable to reach, are not people that one would +care to fall in with after nightfall.</p> + +<p>"Since the time of which I speak we have +done much to introduce a better state of things. +The opening of day schools of carpentry, +plumbing and calcimining for the children of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +the capitalist is already producing results. +Strange though it may seem, one of the most +brilliant of our boiler fitters of to-day was +brought up haphazard in this very quarter of +the town and educated only by a French governess +and a university tutor. But at the time +practically nothing had been done. The place +was infested with consumers, and there were +still, so it was said, servants living in some of +the older houses. A butler had been caught +one night in a thick shrubbery beside one of +the gloomy streets.</p> + +<p>"We alighted at one of the most sombre of +the houses, and our taxi-driver, with evident +relief, made off in the darkness.</p> + +<p>"The girl admitted us into a dark hall, +where she turned on an electric light. 'We +have light,' she said, with that peculiar touch +of pride that one sees so often in her class, +'we have four bulbs.'</p> + +<p>"Then she called down a flight of stairs that +apparently led to the cellar:</p> + +<p>"'Father, the plumber has come. Do come +up now, dear, and rest.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A step sounded on the stairs, and there +appeared beside us one of the most forbidding-looking +men that I have ever beheld. I don't +know whether any of you have ever seen an +Anglican Bishop. Probably not. Outside of +the bush, they are now never seen. But at the +time of which I speak there were a few still +here and there in the purlieus of the city. The +man before us was tall and ferocious, and his +native ferocity was further enhanced by the +heavy black beard which he wore in open +defiance of the compulsory shaving laws. His +black shovel-shaped hat and his black clothes +lent him a singularly sinister appearance, while +his legs were bound in tight gaiters, as if ready +for an instant spring. He carried in his hand +an enormous monkey wrench, on which his +fingers were clasped in a restless grip.</p> + +<p>"'Can you fix the accursed thing?' he asked.</p> + +<p>"I was not accustomed to being spoken to +in this way, but I was willing for the girl's sake +to strain professional courtesy to the limit.</p> + +<p>"'I don't know,' I answered, 'but if you +will have the goodness first to fetch me a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +light supper, I shall be glad to see what I can +do afterwards.'</p> + +<p>"My firm manner had its effect. With +obvious reluctance the fellow served me some +biscuits and some not bad champagne in the +dining-room.</p> + +<p>"The girl had meantime disappeared upstairs.</p> + +<p>"'If you're ready now,' said the Bishop, +'come on down.'</p> + +<p>"We went down to the cellar. It was a huge, +gloomy place, with a cement floor, lighted by +a dim electric bulb. I could see in the corner +the outline of a large furnace (in those days +the poorer classes had still no central heat) and +near it a tall boiler. In front of this a man +was kneeling, evidently trying to unscrew a +nut, but twisting it the wrong way. He was +an elderly man with a grey moustache, and +was dressed, in open defiance of the law, in a +military costume or uniform.</p> + +<p>"He turned round towards us and rose from +his knees.</p> + +<p>"'I'm dashed if I can make the rotten thing +go round,' he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'It's all right, General,' said the Bishop. +'I have brought a plumber.'</p> + +<p>"For the next few minutes my professional +interest absorbed all my faculties. I laid out +my instruments upon a board, tapped the +boiler with a small hammer, tested the feed-tube, +and in a few moments had made what +I was convinced was a correct diagnosis of +the trouble.</p> + +<p>"But here I encountered the greatest professional +dilemma in which I have ever been +placed. There was nothing wrong with the +boiler at all. It connected, as I ascertained at +once by a thermo-dynamic valvular test, with +the furnace (in fact, I could see it did), and +the furnace quite evidently had been allowed to +go out.</p> + +<p>"What was I to do? If I told them this, I +broke every professional rule of our union. If +the thing became known I should probably be +disbarred and lose my overalls for it. It was +my plain professional duty to take a large +hammer and knock holes in the boiler with it, +smash up the furnace pipes, start a leak of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +gas, and then call in three or more of my +colleagues.</p> + +<p>"But somehow I couldn't find it in my heart +to do it. The thought of the girl's appealing +face arose before me.</p> + +<p>"'How long has this trouble been going +on?' I asked sternly.</p> + +<p>"'Quite a time,' answered the Bishop. 'It +began, did it not, General, the same day that +the confounded furnace went out? The +General here and Admiral Hay and I have +been working at it for three days.'</p> + +<p>"'Well, gentlemen,' I said, 'I don't want to +read you a lesson on your own ineptitude, and +I don't suppose you would understand it if I +did. But don't you see that the whole trouble +is <i>because</i> you let the furnace out? The boiler +itself is all right, but you see, gents, it feeds off +the furnace.'</p> + +<p>"'Ah,' said the Bishop in a deep melodious +tone, 'it feeds off the furnace. Now that is +most interesting. Let me repeat that; I must +try to remember it; it feeds <i>off</i> the furnace. +Just so.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The upshot was that in twenty minutes we +had the whole thing put to rights. I set the +General breaking up boxes and had the Bishop +rake out the clinkers, and very soon we had +the furnace going and the boiler in operation.</p> + +<p>"'But now tell me,' said the Bishop, +'suppose one wanted to let the furnace out—suppose, +I mean to say, that it was summer-time, +and suppose one rather felt that one +didn't care about a furnace and yet one wanted +one's boiler going for one's hot water, and that +sort of thing, what would one do?'</p> + +<p>"'In that case,' I said, 'you couldn't run +your heating off your furnace: you'd have to +connect in your tubing with a gas generator.'</p> + +<p>"'Ah, there you get me rather beyond my +depth,' said the Bishop.</p> + +<p>"The General shook his head. 'Bishop,' +he said, 'just step upstairs a minute; I have +an idea.'</p> + +<p>"They went up together, leaving me below. +To my surprise and consternation, as they +reached the top of the cellar stairs, I saw the +General swing the door shut and heard a key<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +turn in the lock. I rushed to the top of the +stairs and tried in vain to open the door. I +was trapped. In a moment I realized my folly +in trusting myself in the hands of these people.</p> + +<p>"I could hear their voices in the hall, apparently +in eager discussion.</p> + +<p>"'But the fellow is priceless,' the General +was saying. 'We could take him round to all +the different houses and make him fix them all. +Hang it, Bishop, I haven't had a decent tap +running for two years, and Admiral Hay's +pantry has been flooded since last March.'</p> + +<p>"'But one couldn't compel him?'</p> + +<p>"'Certainly, why not? I'd compel him +bally quick with this.'</p> + +<p>"I couldn't see what the General referred +to, but had no doubt that it was the huge +wrench that he still carried in his hand.</p> + +<p>"'We could gag the fellow,' he went on, +'take him from house to house and make him +put everything right.'</p> + +<p>"'Ah, but afterwards?' said the Bishop.</p> + +<p>"'Afterwards,' answered the General, 'why +kill him! Knock him on the head and bury<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +him under the cement in the cellar. Hay and +I could easily bury him, or for that matter I +imagine one could easily use the furnace itself +to dispose of him.'</p> + +<p>"I must confess that my blood ran cold as I +listened.</p> + +<p>"'But do you think it right?' objected the +Bishop. 'You will say, of course, that it is +only killing a plumber; but yet one asks +oneself whether it wouldn't be just a <i>leetle</i> bit +unjustifiable.'</p> + +<p>"'Nonsense,' said the General. 'You remember +that last year, when Hay strangled the +income tax collector, you yourself were very +keen on it.'</p> + +<p>"'Ah, that was different,' said the Bishop, +'one felt there that there was an end to serve, +but here——'</p> + +<p>"'Nonsense,' repeated the General, 'come +along and get Hay. He'll make short work +of him.'</p> + +<p>"I heard their retreating footsteps and then +all was still.</p> + +<p>"The horror which filled my mind as I sat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +in the half darkness waiting for their return I +cannot describe. My fate appeared sealed and +I gave myself up for lost, when presently I +heard a light step in the hall and the key +turned in the lock.</p> + +<p>"The girl stood in front of me. She was +trembling with emotion.</p> + +<p>"'Quick, quick, Mr. Thornton,' she said. +'I heard all that they said. Oh, I think it's +dreadful of them, simply dreadful. Mr. +Thornton, I'm really ashamed that Father +should act that way.'</p> + +<p>"I came out into the hall still half dazed.</p> + +<p>"'They've gone over to Admiral Hay's +house, there among the trees. That's their +lantern. Please, please, don't lose a minute. +Do you mind not having a cab? I think +really you'd prefer not to wait. And look, +won't you please take this?'—she handed me +a little packet as she spoke—'this is a piece +of pie: you always get that, don't you? and +there's a bit of cheese with it, but please run.'</p> + +<p>"In another moment I had bounded from +the door into the darkness. A wild rush<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +through the darkened streets, and in twenty +minutes I was safe back again in my own +consulting-room."</p> + +<p>Thornton paused in his narrative, and at +that moment one of the stewards of the club +came and whispered something in his ear.</p> + +<p>He rose.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," he said, with a grave face. +"I'm called away; a very old client of mine. +Valvular trouble of the worst kind. I doubt +if I can do anything, but I must at least go. +Please don't let me break up your evening, +however."</p> + +<p>With a courtly bow he left us.</p> + +<p>"And do you know the sequel to Thornton's +story?" asked Fortescue with a smile.</p> + +<p>We looked expectantly at him.</p> + +<p>"Why, he married the girl," explained +Fortescue. "You see, he had to go back to her +house for his wrench. One always does."</p> + +<p>"Of course," we exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"In fact he went three times; and the last +time he asked the girl to marry him and she +said 'yes.' He took her out of her surround<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>ings[**missing +comma?] had her educated at a cooking school, and +had her given lessons on the parlour organ. +She's Mrs. Thornton now."</p> + +<p>"And the Bishop?" asked some one.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Thornton looked after him. He got +him a position heating furnaces in the synagogues. +He worked at it till he died a few +years ago. They say that once he got the trick +of it he took the greatest delight in it. Well, +I must go too. Good night." +<br /> +<br /><br /> +<br /> +</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> +<div class="innerbox"> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a><i>VII</i></h2> + +<h2><i>THE BLUE AND THE GREY</i></h2> + +<h3><i>A PRE-WAR WAR STORY</i></h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>The title is selected for its originality. A set of seventy-five +maps will be supplied to any reader free for seventy-five cents. +This offer is only open till it is closed</i>)</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + + +<p>The scene was a striking one. It was +night. Never had the Mississippi +presented a more remarkable appearance. +Broad bayous, swollen beyond +our powers of description, swirled to and fro +in the darkness under trees garlanded with +Spanish moss. All moss other than Spanish +had been swept away by the angry flood of the +river.</p> + +<p>Eggleston Lee Carey Randolph, a young +Virginian, captain of the ——th company of +the ——th regiment of ——'s brigade—even +this is more than we ought to say, and is hard +to pronounce—attached to the Army of the +Tennessee, struggled in vain with the swollen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +waters. At times he sank. At other times he +went up.</p> + +<p>In the intervals he wondered whether it +would ever be possible for him to rejoin the +particular platoon of the particular regiment +to which he belonged, and of which's whereabouts +(not having the volume of the army +record at hand) he was in ignorance. In the +intervals, also, he reflected on his past life to a +sufficient extent to give the reader a more or +less workable idea as to who and to what he +was. His father, the old grey-haired Virginian +aristocrat, he could see him still. "Take this +sword, Eggleston," he had said, "use it for +the State; never for anything else: don't cut +string with it or open tin cans. Never sheathe +it till the soil of Virginia is free. Keep it +bright, my boy: oil it every now and then, +and you'll find it an A 1 sword."</p> + +<p>Did Eggleston think, too, in his dire peril of +another—younger than his father and fairer? +Necessarily, he did. "Go, Eggleston!" she +had exclaimed, as they said farewell under the +portico of his father's house where she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +visiting, "it is your duty. But mine lies elsewhere. +I cannot forget that I am a Northern +girl. I must return at once to my people in +Pennsylvania. Oh, Egg, when will this cruel +war end?"</p> + +<p>So had the lovers parted.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile—while Eggleston is going up +and down for the third time, which is of course +the last—suppose we leave him, and turn to +consider the general position of the Confederacy. +All right: suppose we do.</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<p>At this date the Confederate Army of the +Tennessee was extended in a line with its right +resting on the Tennessee and its left resting +on the Mississippi. Its rear rested on the +rugged stone hills of the Chickasaba range, +while its front rested on the marshes and +bayous of the Yazoo. Having thus—as far +as we understand military matters—both its +flanks covered and its rear protected, its position<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +was one which we ourselves consider very +comfortable.</p> + +<p>It was thus in an admirable situation for +holding a review or for discussing the Constitution +of the United States in reference to the +right of secession.</p> + +<p>The following generals rode up and down in +front of the army, namely, Mr. A. P. Hill, +Mr. Longstreet, and Mr. Joseph Johnston. +All these three celebrated men are thus presented +to our readers at one and the same time +without extra charge.</p> + +<p>But who is this tall, commanding figure who +rides beside them, his head bent as if listening +to what they are saying (he really isn't) while +his eye alternately flashes with animation or +softens to its natural melancholy? (In fact, +we can only compare it to an electric light bulb +with the power gone wrong.) Who is it? It +is Jefferson C. Davis, President, as our readers +will be gratified to learn, of the Confederate +States.</p> + +<p>It being a fine day and altogether suitable +for the purpose, General Longstreet reined in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +his prancing black charger (during this distressed +period all the horses in both armies +were charged: there was no other way to pay +for them), and in a few terse words, about +three pages, gave his views on the Constitution +of the United States.</p> + +<p>Jefferson Davis, standing up in his stirrups, +delivered a stirring harangue, about six columns, +on the powers of the Supreme Court, admirably +calculated to rouse the soldiers to frenzy. +After which General A. P. Hill offered a short +address, soldier-like and to the point, on the +fundamental principles of international law, +which inflamed the army to the highest pitch.</p> + +<p>At this moment an officer approached the +President, saluted and stood rigidly at attention. +Davis, with that nice punctilio which marked +the Southern army, returned the salute.</p> + +<p>"Do you speak first?" he said, "or did I?"</p> + +<p>"Let me," said the officer. "Your Excellency," +he continued, "a young Virginian officer +has just been fished out of the Mississippi."</p> + +<p>Davis's eye flashed. "Good!" he said. +"Look and see if there are many more," and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +then he added with a touch of melancholy, +"The South needs them: fish them all out. +Bring this one here."</p> + +<p>Eggleston Lee Carey Randolph, still dripping +from the waters of the bayou, was led +by the faithful negroes who had rescued him +before the generals. Davis, who kept every +thread of the vast panorama of the war in his +intricate brain, eyed him keenly and directed +a few searching questions to him, such as: +"Who are you? Where are you? What day +of the week is it? How much is nine times +twelve?" and so forth. Satisfied with Eggleston's +answers, Davis sat in thought a moment, +and then continued:</p> + +<p>"I am anxious to send some one through the +entire line of the Confederate armies in such +a way that he will be present at all the great +battles and end up at the battle of Gettysburg. +Can you do it?"</p> + +<p>Randolph looked at his chief with a flush of +pride.</p> + +<p>"I can."</p> + +<p>"Good!" resumed Davis. "To accomplish<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +this task you must carry despatches. What +they will be about I have not yet decided. But +it is customary in such cases to write them so +that they are calculated, if lost, to endanger +the entire Confederate cause. The main thing +is, can you carry them?"</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Eggleston, raising his hand in a +military salute, "I am a Randolph."</p> + +<p>Davis with soldierly dignity removed his hat. +"I am proud to hear it, Captain Randolph," he +said.</p> + +<p>"And a Carey," continued our hero.</p> + +<p>Davis, with a graciousness all his own, took +off his gloves. "I trust you, <i>Major</i> Randolph," +he said.</p> + +<p>"And I am a Lee," added Eggleston quickly.</p> + +<p>Davis with a courtly bow unbuttoned his +jacket. "It is enough," he said. "I trust you. +You shall carry the despatches. You are to +carry them on your person and, as of course +you understand, you are to keep on losing them. +You are to drop them into rivers, hide them in +old trees, bury them under moss, talk about +them in your sleep. In fact, sir," said Davis,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +with a slight gesture of impatience—it was his +<i>one</i> fault—"you must act towards them as +any bearer of Confederate despatches is expected +to act. The point is, can you do it, +or can't you?"</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Randolph, saluting again with +simple dignity, "I come from Virginia."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," said the President, saluting +with both hands, "I had forgotten it."</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + + +<p>Randolph set out that night, mounted upon +the fastest horse, in fact the fleetest, that the +Confederate Army could supply. He was +attended only by a dozen faithful negroes, +all devoted to his person.</p> + +<p>Riding over the Tennessee mountains by +paths known absolutely to no one and never +advertised, he crossed the Tombigbee, the +Tahoochie and the Tallahassee, all frightfully +swollen, and arrived at the headquarters of +General Braxton Bragg.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> + +<p>At this moment Bragg was extended over +some seven miles of bush and dense swamp. +His front rested on the marshes of the +Tahoochie River, while his rear was doubled +sharply back and rested on a dense growth of +cactus plants. Our readers can thus form a +fairly accurate idea of Bragg's position. Over +against him, not more than fifty miles to the +north, his indomitable opponent, Grant, lay in +a frog-swamp. The space between them was +filled with Union and Confederate pickets, +fraternizing, joking, roasting corn, and firing +an occasional shot at one another.</p> + +<p>One glance at Randolph's despatches was +enough.</p> + +<p>"Take them at once to General Hood," said +Bragg.</p> + +<p>"Where is he?" asked Eggleston, with +military precision.</p> + +<p>Bragg waved his sword towards the east. +It was characteristic of the man that even on +active service he carried a short sword, while +a pistol, probably loaded, protruded from his +belt. But such was Bragg. Anyway, he waved<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +his sword. "Over there beyond the Tahoochicaba +range," he said. "Do you know it?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Randolph, "but I can find it."</p> + +<p>"Do," said Bragg, and added, "One thing +more. On your present mission let nothing +stop you. Go forward at all costs. If you +come to a river, swim it. If you come to a +tree, cut it down. If you strike a fence, climb +over it. But don't stop! If you are killed, +never mind. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Almost," said Eggleston.</p> + +<p>Two days later Eggleston reached the headquarters +of General Hood, and flung himself, +rather than dismounted, from his jaded +horse.</p> + +<p>"Take me to the General!" he gasped.</p> + +<p>They pointed to the log cabin in which +General Hood was quartered.</p> + +<p>Eggleston flung himself, rather than stepped, +through the door.</p> + +<p>Hood looked up from the table.</p> + +<p>"Who was that flung himself in?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Randolph reached out his hand. "Despatches!" +he gasped. "Food, whisky!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Poor lad," said the General, "you are +exhausted. When did you last have food?"</p> + +<p>"Yesterday morning," gasped Eggleston.</p> + +<p>"You're lucky," said Hood bitterly. "And +when did you last have a drink?"</p> + +<p>"Two weeks ago," answered Randolph.</p> + +<p>"Great Heaven!" said Hood, starting up. +"Is it possible? Here, quick, drink it!"</p> + +<p>He reached out a bottle of whisky. Randolph +drained it to the last drop.</p> + +<p>"Now, General," he said, "I am at your +service."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Hood had cast his eye over the +despatches.</p> + +<p>"Major Randolph," he said, "you have seen +General Bragg?"</p> + +<p>"I have."</p> + +<p>"And Generals Johnston and Smith?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You have been through Mississippi and +Tennessee and seen all the battles there?"</p> + +<p>"I have," said Randolph.</p> + +<p>"Then," said Hood, "there is nothing left +except to send you at once to the army in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +Virginia under General Lee. Remount your +horse at once and ride to Gettysburg. Lose no +time."</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> + + +<p>It was at Gettysburg in Pennsylvania that +Randolph found General Lee.</p> + +<p>The famous field is too well known to need +description. The armies of the North and the +South lay in and around the peaceful village of +Gettysburg. About it the yellow cornfields +basked in the summer sun. The voices of the +teachers and the laughter of merry children +rose in the harvest-fields. But already the +shadow of war was falling over the landscape. +As soon as the armies arrived, the shrewder +of the farmers suspected that there would be +trouble.</p> + +<p>General Lee was seated gravely on his +horse, looking gravely over the ground before +him.</p> + +<p>"Major Randolph," said the Confederate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +chieftain gravely, "you are just in time. We +are about to go into action. I need your +advice."</p> + +<p>Randolph bowed. "Ask me anything you +like," he said.</p> + +<p>"Do you like the way I have the army +placed?" asked Lee.</p> + +<p>Our hero directed a searching look over the +field. "Frankly, I don't," he said.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with it?" questioned +Lee eagerly. "I felt there was something +wrong myself. What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Your left," said Randolph, "is too far +advanced. It sticks out."</p> + +<p>"By Heaven!" said Lee, turning to General +Longstreet, "the boy is right! Is there anything +else?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Randolph, "your right is +crooked. It is all sideways."</p> + +<p>"It is. It is!" said Lee, striking his +forehead. "I never noticed it. I'll have it +straightened at once. Major Randolph, if the +Confederate cause is saved, you, and you alone, +have saved it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> + +<p>"One thing more," said Randolph. "Is +your artillery loaded?"</p> + +<p>"Major Randolph," said Lee, speaking very +gravely, "you have saved us again. I never +thought of it."</p> + +<p>At this moment a bullet sang past Eggleston's +ear. He smiled.</p> + +<p>"The battle has begun," he murmured. +Another bullet buzzed past his other ear. He +laughed softly to himself. A shell burst close +to his feet. He broke into uncontrolled laughter. +This kind of thing always amused him. Then, +turning grave in a moment, "Put General +Lee under cover," he said to those about +him, "spread something over him."</p> + +<p>In a few moments the battle was raging in +all directions. The Confederate Army was +nominally controlled by General Lee, but in +reality by our hero. Eggleston was everywhere. +Horses were shot under him. Mules were shot +around him and behind him. Shells exploded +all over him; but with undaunted courage he +continued to wave his sword in all directions, +riding wherever the fight was hottest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<p>The battle raged for three days.</p> + +<p>On the third day of the conflict, Randolph, +his coat shot to rags, his hat pierced, his +trousers practically useless, still stood at Lee's +side, urging and encouraging him.</p> + +<p>Mounted on his charger, he flew to and fro +in all parts of the field, moving the artillery, +leading the cavalry, animating and directing the +infantry. In fact, he was the whole battle.</p> + +<p>But his efforts were in vain.</p> + +<p>He turned sadly to General Lee. "It is +bootless," he said.</p> + +<p>"What is?" asked Lee.</p> + +<p>"The army," said Randolph. "We must +withdraw it."</p> + +<p>"Major Randolph," said the Confederate +chief, "I yield to your superior knowledge. +We must retreat."</p> + +<p>A few hours later the Confederate forces, +checked but not beaten, were retiring southward +towards Virginia.</p> + +<p>Eggleston, his head sunk in thought, rode in +the rear.</p> + +<p>As he thus slowly neared a farmhouse, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +woman—a girl—flew from it towards him with +outstretched arms.</p> + +<p>"Eggleston!" she cried.</p> + +<p>Randolph flung himself from his horse. +"Leonora!" he gasped. "You here! In all +this danger! How comes it? What brings you +here?"</p> + +<p>"We live here," she said. "This is Pa's +house. This is our farm. Gettysburg is our +home. Oh, Egg, it has been dreadful, the +noise of the battle! We couldn't sleep for it. +Pa's all upset about it. But come in. Do +come in. Dinner's nearly ready."</p> + +<p>Eggleston gazed a moment at the retreating +army. Duty and affection struggled in his +heart.</p> + +<p>"I will," he said.</p> + + +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<h4>CONCLUSION</h4> + + +<p>The strife is done. The conflict has ceased. +The wounds are healed. North and South are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +one. East and West are even less. The Civil +War is over. Lee is dead. Grant is buried in +New York. The Union Pacific runs from +Omaha to San Francisco. There is total prohibition +in the United States. The output of +dressed beef last year broke all records.</p> + +<p>And Eggleston Lee Carey Randolph survives, +hale and hearty, bright and cheery, free and +easy—and so forth. There is grey hair upon +his temples (some, not much), and his step has +lost something of its elasticity (not a great +deal), and his form is somewhat bowed (though +not really crooked).</p> + +<p>But he still lives there in the farmstead at +Gettysburg, and Leonora, now, like himself, an +old woman, is still at his side.</p> + +<p>You may see him any day. In fact, he is +the old man who shows you over the battlefield +for fifty cents and explains how he himself +fought and won the great battle.<br /> +<br /></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> +<div class="innerbox"> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a><i>VIII</i></h2> + +<h3><i>BUGGAM GRANGE</i></h3> + +<h4><i>A GOOD OLD GHOST STORY</i></h4></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> + +<p>The evening was already falling as +the vehicle in which I was contained +entered upon the long and gloomy +avenue that leads to Buggam Grange.</p> + +<p>A resounding shriek echoed through the +wood as I entered the avenue. I paid no attention +to it at the moment, judging it to be +merely one of those resounding shrieks which +one might expect to hear in such a place at +such a time. As my drive continued, however +I found myself wondering in spite of myself +why such a shriek should have been uttered at +the very moment of my approach.</p> + +<p>I am not by temperament in any degree a +nervous man, and yet there was much in my +surroundings to justify a certain feeling of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +apprehension. The Grange is situated in the +loneliest part of England, the marsh country +of the fens to which civilization has still hardly +penetrated. The inhabitants, of whom there +are only one and a half to the square mile, live +here and there among the fens and eke out a +miserable existence by frog-fishing and catching +flies. They speak a dialect so broken as to be +practically unintelligible, while the perpetual +rain which falls upon them renders speech itself +almost superfluous.</p> + +<p>Here and there where the ground rises +slightly above the level of the fens there are +dense woods tangled with parasitic creepers and +filled with owls. Bats fly from wood to wood. +The air on the lower ground is charged with +the poisonous gases which exude from the +marsh, while in the woods it is heavy with the +dank odours of deadly nightshade and poison +ivy.</p> + +<p>It had been raining in the afternoon, and as +I drove up the avenue the mournful dripping +of the rain from the dark trees accentuated the +cheerlessness of the gloom. The vehicle in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +which I rode was a fly on three wheels, the +fourth having apparently been broken and +taken off, causing the fly to sag on one side +and drag on its axle over the muddy ground, +the fly thus moving only at a foot's pace in a +way calculated to enhance the dreariness of the +occasion. The driver on the box in front of me +was so thickly muffled up as to be indistinguishable, +while the horse which drew us was so +thickly coated with mist as to be practically +invisible. Seldom, I may say, have I had a +drive of so mournful a character.</p> + +<p>The avenue presently opened out upon a +lawn with overgrown shrubberies, and in the +half darkness I could see the outline of the +Grange itself, a rambling, dilapidated building. +A dim light struggled through the casement +of a window in a tower room. Save for the +melancholy cry of a row of owls sitting on the +roof, and croaking of the frogs in the moat +which ran around the grounds, the place was +soundless. My driver halted his horse at the +hither side of the moat. I tried in vain to +urge him, by signs, to go further. I could see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +by the fellow's face that he was in a paroxysm +of fear, and indeed nothing but the extra +sixpence which I had added to his fare would +have made him undertake the drive up the +avenue. I had no sooner alighted than he +wheeled his cab about and made off.</p> + +<p>Laughing heartily at the fellow's trepidation +(I have a way of laughing heartily in the +dark), I made my way to the door and pulled +the bell-handle. I could hear the muffled +reverberations of the bell far within the building. +Then all was silent. I bent my ear to +listen, but could hear nothing except, perhaps, +the sound of a low moaning as of a person in +pain or in great mental distress. Convinced, +however, from what my friend Sir Jeremy +Buggam had told me, that the Grange was not +empty, I raised the ponderous knocker and +beat with it loudly against the door.</p> + +<p>But perhaps at this point I may do well to +explain to my readers (before they are too +frightened to listen to me) how I came to be +beating on the door of Buggam Grange at +nightfall on a gloomy November evening.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + +<p>A year before I had been sitting with Sir +Jeremy Buggam, the present baronet, on the +verandah of his ranch in California.</p> + +<p>"So you don't believe in the supernatural?" +he was saying.</p> + +<p>"Not in the slightest," I answered, lighting +a cigar as I spoke. When I want to speak very +positively, I generally light a cigar as I speak.</p> + +<p>"Well, at any rate, Digby," said Sir Jeremy, +"Buggam Grange is haunted. If you want to +be assured of it go down there any time and +spend the night and you'll see for yourself."</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow," I replied, "nothing will +give me greater pleasure. I shall be back in +England in six weeks, and I shall be delighted +to put your ideas to the test. Now tell me," +I added somewhat cynically, "is there any +particular season or day when your Grange is +supposed to be specially terrible?"</p> + +<p>Sir Jeremy looked at me strangely. "Why +do you ask that?" he said. "Have you heard +the story of the Grange?"</p> + +<p>"Never heard of the place in my life," I +answered cheerily. "Till you mentioned it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +to-night, my dear fellow, I hadn't the remotest +idea that you still owned property in +England."</p> + +<p>"The Grange is shut up," said Sir Jeremy, +"and has been for twenty years. But I keep a +man there—Horrod—he was butler in my +father's time and before. If you care to go, +I'll write him that you're coming. And, since +you are taking your own fate in your hands, +the fifteenth of November is the day."</p> + +<p>At that moment Lady Buggam and Clara +and the other girls came trooping out on the +verandah, and the whole thing passed clean +out of my mind. Nor did I think of it again +until I was back in London. Then, by one of +those strange coincidences or premonitions—call +it what you will—it suddenly occurred to +me one morning that it was the fifteenth of +November. Whether Sir Jeremy had written +to Horrod or not, I did not know. But none +the less nightfall found me, as I have described, +knocking at the door of Buggam Grange.</p> + +<p>The sound of the knocker had scarcely +ceased to echo when I heard the shuffling of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +feet within, and the sound of chains and bolts +being withdrawn. The door opened. A man +stood before me holding a lighted candle which +he shaded with his hand. His faded black +clothes, once apparently a butler's dress, his +white hair and advanced age left me in no +doubt that he was Horrod of whom Sir Jeremy +had spoken.</p> + +<p>Without a word he motioned me to come in, +and, still without speech, he helped me to +remove my wet outer garments, and then +beckoned me into a great room, evidently the +dining-room of the Grange.</p> + +<p>I am not in any degree a nervous man by +temperament, as I think I remarked before, +and yet there was something in the vastness of +the wainscoted room, lighted only by a single +candle, and in the silence of the empty house, +and still more in the appearance of my speechless +attendant, which gave me a feeling of distinct +uneasiness. As Horrod moved to and +fro I took occasion to scrutinize his face more +narrowly. I have seldom seen features more +calculated to inspire a nervous dread. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +pallor of his face and the whiteness of his hair +(the man was at least seventy), and still more +the peculiar furtiveness of his eyes, seemed to +mark him as one who lived under a great terror. +He moved with a noiseless step and at times +he turned his head to glance in the dark corners +of the room.</p> + +<p>"Sir Jeremy told me," I said, speaking as +loudly and as heartily as I could, "that he would +apprise you of my coming."</p> + +<p>I was looking into his face as I spoke.</p> + +<p>In answer Horrod laid his finger across his +lips and I knew that he was deaf and dumb. I +am not nervous (I think I said that), but the +realization that my sole companion in the empty +house was a deaf mute struck a cold chill to +my heart.</p> + +<p>Horrod laid in front of me a cold meat pie, +a cold goose, a cheese, and a tall flagon of +cider. But my appetite was gone. I ate the +goose, but found that after I had finished the +pie I had but little zest for the cheese, which +I finished without enjoyment. The cider had +a sour taste, and after having permitted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +Horrod to refill the flagon twice I found that +it induced a sense of melancholy and decided +to drink no more.</p> + +<p>My meal finished, the butler picked up the +candle and beckoned me to follow him. We +passed through the empty corridors of the +house, a long line of pictured Buggams looking +upon us as we passed, their portraits in +the flickering light of the taper assuming a +strange and life-like appearance, as if leaning +forward from their frames to gaze upon the +intruder.</p> + +<p>Horrod led me upstairs and I realized that +he was taking me to the tower in the east wing, +in which I had observed a light.</p> + +<p>The rooms to which the butler conducted +me consisted of a sitting-room with an adjoining +bedroom, both of them fitted with antique +wainscoting against which a faded tapestry +fluttered. There was a candle burning on the +table in the sitting-room, but its insufficient light +only rendered the surroundings the more dismal. +Horrod bent down in front of the fireplace +and endeavoured to light a fire there.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +But the wood was evidently damp and the fire +flickered feebly on the hearth.</p> + +<p>The butler left me, and in the stillness of +the house I could hear his shuffling step echo +down the corridor. It may have been fancy, +but it seemed to me that his departure was the +signal for a low moan that came from somewhere +behind the wainscot. There was a narrow +cupboard door at one side of the room, +and for the moment I wondered whether the +moaning came from within. I am not as a rule +lacking in courage (I am sure my reader will +be decent enough to believe this), yet I found +myself entirely unwilling to open the cupboard +door and look within. In place of doing so +I seated myself in a great chair in front of +the feeble fire. I must have been seated there +for some time when I happened to lift my eyes +to the mantel above and saw, standing upon +it, a letter addressed to myself. I knew the +handwriting at once to be that of Sir Jeremy +Buggam.</p> + +<p>I opened it, and spreading it out within reach +of the feeble candlelight, I read as follows:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Digby</span>,</p> + +<p>"In our talk that you will remember, I +had no time to finish telling you about the +mystery of Buggam Grange. I take for granted, +however, that you will go there and that Horrod +will put you in the tower rooms, which are the +only ones that make any pretence of being habitable. +I have, therefore, sent him this letter to +deliver at the Grange itself.</p> + +<p>"The story is this:</p> + +<p>"On the night of the fifteenth of November, +fifty years ago, my grandfather was murdered +in the room in which you are sitting, by his +cousin, Sir Duggam Buggam. He was stabbed +from behind while seated at the little table at +which you are probably reading this letter. +The two had been playing cards at the table +and my grandfather's body was found lying in +a litter of cards and gold sovereigns on the +floor. Sir Duggam Buggam, insensible from +drink, lay beside him, the fatal knife at his +hand, his fingers smeared with blood. My +grandfather, though of the younger branch,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +possessed a part of the estates which were to +revert to Sir Duggam on his death. Sir Duggam +Buggam was tried at the Assizes and was +hanged. On the day of his execution he was +permitted by the authorities, out of respect for +his rank, to wear a mask to the scaffold. The +clothes in which he was executed are hanging +at full length in the little cupboard to your +right, and the mask is above them. It is said +that on every fifteenth of November at midnight +the cupboard door opens and Sir Duggam +Buggam walks out into the room. It has been +found impossible to get servants to remain at +the Grange, and the place—except for the +presence of Horrod—has been unoccupied for +a generation. At the time of the murder +Horrod was a young man of twenty-two, newly +entered into the service of the family. It was +he who entered the room and discovered the +crime. On the day of the execution he was +stricken with paralysis and has never spoken +since. From that time to this he has never +consented to leave the Grange, where he lives +in isolation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wishing you a pleasant night after your +tiring journey,</p> + +<p>"I remain,</p> + +<p>"Very faithfully,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right">"<span class="smcap">Jeremy Buggam</span>."</p></blockquote> + +<p>I leave my reader to imagine my state of +mind when I completed the perusal of the +letter.</p> + +<p>I have as little belief in the supernatural as +anyone, yet I must confess that there was something +in the surroundings in which I now found +myself which rendered me at least uncomfortable. +My reader may smile if he will, but I +assure him that it was with a very distinct feeling +of uneasiness that I at length managed to +rise to my feet, and, grasping my candle in my +hand, to move backward into the bedroom. As +I backed into it something so like a moan +seemed to proceed from the closed cupboard +that I accelerated my backward movement to a +considerable degree. I hastily blew out the +candle, threw myself upon the bed and drew +the bedclothes over my head, keeping,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +however, one eye and one ear still out and +available.</p> + +<p>How long I lay thus listening to every +sound, I cannot tell. The stillness had become +absolute. From time to time I could dimly +hear the distant cry of an owl, and once far +away in the building below a sound as of some +one dragging a chain along a floor. More than +once I was certain that I heard the sound of +moaning behind the wainscot. Meantime I +realized that the hour must now be drawing +close upon the fatal moment of midnight. My +watch I could not see in the darkness, but by +reckoning the time that must have elapsed I +knew that midnight could not be far away. +Then presently my ear, alert to every sound, +could just distinguish far away across the fens +the striking of a church bell, in the clock tower +of Buggam village church, no doubt, tolling the +hour of twelve.</p> + +<p>On the last stroke of twelve, the cupboard +door in the next room opened. There is no +need to ask me how I knew it. I couldn't, of +course, see it, but I could hear, or sense in some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +way, the sound of it. I could feel my hair, all +of it, rising upon my head. I was aware that +there was a <i>presence</i> in the adjoining room, I +will not say a person, a living soul, but a +<i>presence</i>. Anyone who has been in the next +room to a presence will know just how I felt. +I could hear a sound as of some one groping on +the floor and the faint rattle as of coins.</p> + +<p>My hair was now perpendicular. My reader +can blame it or not, but it was.</p> + +<p>Then at this very moment from somewhere +below in the building there came the sound of +a prolonged and piercing cry, a cry as of a soul +passing in agony. My reader may censure me +or not, but right at this moment I decided to +beat it. Whether I should have remained to +see what was happening is a question that I will +not discuss. My one idea was to get out, and +to get out quickly. The window of the tower +room was some twenty-five feet above the +ground. I sprang out through the casement in +one leap and landed on the grass below. I +jumped over the shrubbery in one bound and +cleared the moat in one jump. I went down the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +avenue in about six strides and ran five miles +along the road through the fens in three +minutes. This at least is an accurate transcription +of my sensations. It may have taken +longer. I never stopped till I found myself on +the threshold of the <i>Buggam Arms</i> in Little +Buggam, beating on the door for the landlord.</p> + +<p>I returned to Buggam Grange on the next +day in the bright sunlight of a frosty November +morning, in a seven-cylinder motor car +with six local constables and a physician. It +makes all the difference. We carried revolvers, +spades, pickaxes, shotguns and an ouija board.</p> + +<p>What we found cleared up for ever the mystery +of the Grange. We discovered Horrod +the butler lying on the dining-room floor quite +dead. The physician said that he had died +from heart failure. There was evidence from +the marks of his shoes in the dust that he had +come in the night to the tower room. On the +table he had placed a paper which contained a +full confession of his having murdered Jeremy +Buggam fifty years before. The circumstances +of the murder had rendered it easy for him to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +fasten the crime upon Sir Duggam, already +insensible from drink. A few minutes with +the ouija board enabled us to get a full corroboration +from Sir Duggam. He promised, +moreover, now that his name was cleared, to go +away from the premises for ever.</p> + +<p>My friend, the present Sir Jeremy, has +rehabilitated Buggam Grange. The place is +rebuilt. The moat is drained. The whole +house is lit with electricity. There are beautiful +motor drives in all directions in the woods. +He has had the bats shot and the owls stuffed. +His daughter, Clara Buggam, became my wife. +She is looking over my shoulder as I write. +What more do you want?</p> + + +<p class="center"><br /><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +THE END<br /><br /> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> +<div class="bbox"> +<p class="center">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p> +<div class="innerbox"><div class="puff"> +<h2>LITERARY LAPSES</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>Twelfth Edition. Crown 8vo. 5s. net</i></p> + +<p><i>Spectator.</i>—"This little book is a happy example of the +way in which the double life can be lived blamelessly and to +the great advantage of the community. The book fairly +entitles Mr. Leacock to be considered not only a humorist +but a benefactor. The contents should appeal to English +readers with the double virtue that attaches to work which +is at once new and richly humorous."</p> + +<p><i>Globe.</i>—"One specimen of Mr. Leacock's humour, 'Boarding-House +Geometry,' has long been treasured on this side."</p> + +<p><i>The Guardian.</i>—"Much to be welcomed is Professor +Stephen Leacock's 'Literary Lapses,'—this charming and +humorous work. All the sketches have a freshness and a +new personal touch. Mr. Leacock is, as the politicians say, +'a national asset,' and Mr. Leacock is a Canadian to be proud +of. One has the comfortable feeling as one reads that one +is in the company of a cultured person capable of attractive +varieties of foolishness."</p> + +<p><i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i>—"The appearance of 'Literary Lapses' +is practically the English début of a young Canadian writer +who is turning from medicine to literature with every success. +Dr. Stephen Leacock is at least the equal of many who are +likely to be long remembered for their short comic sketches +and essays; he has already shown that he has the high spirits +of 'Max Adeler' and the fine sense of quick fun. There are +many sketches in 'Literary Lapses' that are worthy of +comparison with the best American humour."</p> + +<p><i>Morning Post.</i>—"The close connection between imagination, +humour, and the mathematical faculty has never been +so delightfully demonstrated."</p> + +<p><i>Outlook.</i>—"Mr. John Lane must be credited with the +desire of associating the Bodley Head with the discovery of +new humorists. Mr. Leacock sets out to make people laugh. +He succeeds and makes them laugh at the right thing. He +has a wide range of new subjects; the world will gain +in cheerfulness if Mr. Leacock continues to produce so many +excellent jests to the book as there are in the one under +notice."</p> + +<p><i>Truth.</i>—"By the publication of Mr. Stephen Leacock's +'Literary Lapses' Mr. John Lane has introduced to the +British Public a new American humorist for whom a widespread +popularity can be confidently predicted."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="center">LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD</p> +</div> +<p><br /><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> +<div class="bbox"> +<p class="center">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p> +<div class="innerbox"><div class="puff"> +<h3>NONSENSE NOVELS</h3> + +<h4><i>THIRTEENTH EDITION</i></h4> + +<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 5s. net</i></p> + +<p><i>Spectator.</i>—"We can assure our readers who delight in +mere joyous desipience that they will find a rich harvest of +laughter in the purely irresponsible outpourings of Professor +Leacock's fancy."</p> + +<p><i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i>—"It is all not only healthy satire, but +healthy humour as well, and shows that the author of +'Literary Lapses' is capable of producing a steady flow of +high spirits put into a form which is equal to the best traditions +of contemporary humour. Mr. Leacock certainly bids fair +to rival the immortal 'Lewis Carroll' in combining the +irreconcilable—exact science with perfect humour—and +making the amusement better the instruction."</p> + +<p><i>Daily Mail.</i>—"In his 'Literary Lapses' Mr. Stephen +Leacock gave the laughter-loving world assurance of a new +humorist of irresistible high spirits and rare spontaneity and +freshness. By this rollicking collection of 'Nonsense Novels,' +in tabloid form, he not only confirms the excellent impression +of his earlier work, but establishes his reputation as a master +of the art of literary burlesque. The whole collection is a +sheer delight, and places its author in the front rank as a +literary humorist."</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">James Douglas</span> in <i>The Star.</i>—"We have all laughed +over Mr. Stephen Leacock's 'Literary Lapses.' It is one of +those books one would die rather than lend, for to lend it is +to lose it for ever. Mr. Leacock's new book, 'Nonsense +Novels,' is more humorous than 'Literary Lapses.' That is +to say, it is the most humorous book we have had since Mr. +Dooley swum into our ken. Its humour is so rich that it +places Mr. Leacock beside Mark Twain."</p> + +<p><i>Morning Leader.</i>—"Mr. Leacock possesses infinite verbal +dexterity.... Mr. Leacock must be added as a recognized +humorist."</p> + +<p><i>Daily Express.</i>—"Mr. Stephen Leacock's 'Nonsense +Novels' is the best collection of parodies I have read for many +a day. The whole book is a scream, witty, ingenious, irresistible."</p> + +<p><i>Public Opinion.</i>—"A most entertaining book."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="center">LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD</p> +</div> + +<p><br /><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="bbox"> +<p class="center">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p> +<div class="innerbox"><div class="puff"> + +<h2>SUNSHINE SKETCHES OF A LITTLE TOWN</h2> + +<h4>WITH A FRONTISPIECE BY CYRUS CUNEO</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>Ninth Edition. Crown 8vo. 5s. net</i></p> + +<p><i>The Times.</i>—"His real hard work, for which no emolument +would be a fitting reward, is distilling sunshine. This new +book is full of it—the sunshine of humour, the thin keen +sunshine of irony, the mellow evening sunshine of sentiment."</p> + +<p><i>Spectator.</i>—"This is not the first but the third volume in +which he has contributed to the gaiety of the Old as well as +the New World.... A most welcome freedom from the +pessimism of Old-World fiction."</p> + +<p><i>Academy.</i>—"One of the best and most enjoyable series of +sketches that we have read for some time ... they are all +bright and sparkling, and bristle with wit and humour."</p> + +<p><i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i>—"Like all real humorists Mr. Leacock +steps at once into his proper position.... His touch of +humour will make the Anglo-Saxon world his reader.... +We cannot recall a more laughable book."</p> + +<p><i>Globe.</i>—"Professor Leacock never fails to provide a feast +of enjoyment.... No one who wishes to dispose intellectually +of a few hours should neglect Professor Leacock's admirable +contribution to English literature. It is warranted to +bring sunshine into every home."</p> + +<p><i>Country Life.</i>—"Informed by a droll humour, quite +unforced, Mr. Leacock reviews his little community for the +sport of the thing, and the result is a natural and delightful +piece of work."</p> + +<p><i>Daily Telegraph.</i>—"His Sketches are so fresh and delightful +in the manner of their presentation.... Allowing for +differences of theme, and of the human materials for study, +Mr. Leacock strikes us as a sort of Americanised Mr. W. W. +Jacobs. Like the English humorist, the Canadian one has +a delightfully fresh and amusing way of putting things, of +suggesting more than he says, of narrating more or less +ordinary happenings in an irresistibly comical fashion.... +Mr. Leacock should be popular with readers who can appreciate +fun shot with kindly satire."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="center">LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD</p> +</div> + + +<p><br /><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> +<div class="bbox"> +<p class="center">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p> +<div class="innerbox"><div class="puff"> +<h2>BEHIND THE BEYOND</h2> + +<p>AND OTHER CONTRIBUTIONS TO HUMAN +KNOWLEDGE. With 16 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">A. H. Fish</span>.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Fifth Edition. Crown 8vo. 5s. net</i></p> + +<p><i>Punch.</i>—"In his latest book, 'Behind the Beyond,' he is in +brilliant scoring form. I can see 'Behind the Beyond' +breaking up many homes; for no family will be able to stand +the sudden sharp yelps of laughter which must infallibly +punctuate the decent after-dinner silence when one of its +members gets hold of this book. It is Mr. Leacock's peculiar +gift that he makes you laugh out loud. When Mr. Leacock's +literal translation of Homer, on p. 193, met my eye, a howl of +mirth broke from me. I also forgot myself over the interview +with the photographer. As for the sketch which gives its +title, to the book, it is the last word in polished satire. The +present volume is Mr. Leacock at his best."</p> + +<p><i>Spectator.</i>—"Beneficent contributions to the gaiety of +nations. The longest and best thing in the book is the +delightful burlesque of a modern problem play. Miss Fish's +illustrations are decidedly clever."</p> + +<p><i>Observer.</i>—"There are delicious touches in it."</p> + +<p><i>Queen.</i>—"All through the book the author furnishes a +continual feast of enjoyment."</p> + +<p><i>Dundee Advertiser.</i>—"'Behind the Beyond' is a brilliant +parody, and the other sketches are all of Mr. Leacock's very +best, 'Homer and Humbug' being as fine a piece of raillery +as Mr. Leacock has written. Mr. Leacock is a humorist of +the first rank, unique in his own sphere, and this volume will +add yet more to his reputation."</p> + +<p><i>Aberdeen Free Press.</i>—"Exquisite quality ... amazingly +funny."</p> + +<p><i>Yorkshire Daily Post.</i>—"In the skit on the problem play +which gives the book its title the author reaches his high-water +mark."</p> + +<p><i>Glasgow Herald.</i>—"Another welcome addition to the gaiety +of the nations. The title-piece is an inimitably clever skit. +It is both genial and realistic, and there is a genuine laugh in +every line of it. Humour and artistry are finely blended in +the drawings."</p> + +<p><i>Daily Express.</i>—"The pictures have genuine and rare +distinction."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="center">LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD</p> +</div> +<p><br /><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> +<div class="bbox"> +<p class="center">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p> +<div class="innerbox"><div class="puff"> +<h3>ARCADIAN ADVENTURES WITH THE IDLE RICH</h3> + +<h4><i>FOURTH EDITION</i></h4> + +<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 5s. net</i></p> + + +<blockquote><p><i>Spectator.</i>—"A blend of delicious fooling and excellent +satire. Once more the author of 'Literary Lapses' has +proved himself a benefactor of his kind."</p> + +<p><i>Morning Post.</i>—"All the 'Adventures' are full of the fuel +of the laughter which is an intellectual thing."</p> + +<p><i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i>—"Professor Leacock shows no falling +off either in his fund of social observation or his power of +turning it to sarcasm and humour. The book is full to the +brim with honest laughter and clever ideas."</p> + +<p><i>Bystander.</i>—"It is necessary to laugh, now even more +necessary than at ordinary times. Fortunately, Professor +Leacock produces a new book at the right moment. It will +cause many chuckles. He is simply irresistible."</p> + +<p><i>Westminster Gazette.</i>—"Marks a distinct advance in Mr. +Leacock's artistic development."</p> + +<p><i>Daily Chronicle.</i>—"This altogether delightful and brilliant +comedy of life.... Mr. Leacock's humour comes from the +very depths of a strong personality, and in the midst of a +thousand whimsicalities, a thousand searchlights on the +puerilities of human nature he never loses touch with the +essential bite of life."</p> + +<p><i>Saturday Review.</i>—"Professor Leacock is a delightful +writer of irresponsible nonsense with a fresh and original +touch. These 'Arcadian Adventures' are things of sheer +delight."</p> + +<p><i>Tatler.</i>—"I have not felt so full of eagerness and life since +the war began as after I had read this delightfully humorous +and clever book."</p> + +<p><i>Evening Standard.</i>—"In this book the satire is brilliantly +conspicuous."</p></blockquote> +</div> +</div> +<p class="center">LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD</p> +</div> + +<p><br /><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bbox" style="text-align: center"> +<p class="center">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p> +<div class="innerbox"><div class="puff"> + +<h3>MOONBEAMS FROM THE LARGER LUNACY</h3> + +<h4><i>FOURTH EDITION</i></h4> + +<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 5s. net</i></p> + +<p><i>Times.</i>—"Such a perfect piece of social observation and +joyful castigation as the description of the last man in Europe +... the portrait of So-and-so is not likely to be forgotten ... +it is so funny and so true."</p> + +<p><i>Morning Post.</i>—"Excellent fooling ... wisdom made +laughable."</p> + +<p><i>Daily Chronicle.</i>—"Here is wit, fun, frolic, nonsense, +verse, satire, comedy, criticism—a perfect gold mine for those +who love laughter."</p> + +<p><i>Sunday Times.</i>—"Very pungent and telling satire. Buy +the book—it will give you a happy hour."</p> + +<p><i>Standard.</i>—"Under the beams of the moon of his delight, +the author never fails to be amusing."</p> + +<p><i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i>—"Mr. Leacock's humour is a credit to +Canada, for it has a depth and a polish such as are both rare +in the literature of a young nation."</p> + +<p><i>Land and Water.</i>—"Unlike a number of so-called humorists, +Mr. Leacock is really funny, as these sketches prove."</p> + +<p><i>Field.</i>—"Indeed a very pleasant hour can be spent with +this author, who is full of humour, wit, and cleverness, and +by his work adds much to the gaiety of life."</p> + +<p><i>Spectator.</i>—"Mr. Leacock has added to our indebtedness +by his new budget of refreshing absurdities.... In shooting +folly as it flies, he launches darts that find their billet on both +sides of the Atlantic."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="center">LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD</p> +</div> + +<p><br /><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bbox" style="text-align: center"> +<p class="center">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p> +<div class="innerbox"><div class="puff"> + +<h3>ESSAYS AND LITERARY STUDIES</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>Fifth Edition. Crown 8vo. 5s. net</i></p> + +<p><i>Truth.</i>—"Full of practical wisdom, as sober as it is +sound."</p> + +<p><i>Morning Post.</i>—"He is the subtlest of all transatlantic +humorists, and, as we have pointed out before, might almost +be defined as the discoverer of a method combining English +and American humour. But he never takes either his subject +or himself too seriously, and the result is a book which is as +readable as any of its mirthful predecessors."</p> + +<p><i>World.</i>—"Those readers who fail to find pleasure in this +new volume of Essays will be difficult to please. Here are +discourses in the author's happiest vein."</p> + +<p><i>Daily News.</i>—"All are delightful."</p> + +<p><i>Bystander.</i>—"No sane person will object to Professor +Leacock professing, so long as he periodically issues such good +entertainment as 'Essays and Literary Studies.'"</p> + +<p><i>Daily Telegraph.</i>—"The engaging talent of this Canadian +author has hitherto been exercised in the lighter realm of wit +and fancy. In his latest volume there is the same irresistible +humour, the same delicate satire, the same joyous freshness; +but the wisdom he distils is concerned more with realities +of our changing age."</p> + +<p><i>Outlook.</i>—"Mr. Leacock's humour is his own, whimsical +with the ease of a self-confident personality, far-sighted, +quick-witted, and invariably humane."</p> + +<p><i>Times.</i>—"Professor Leacock's paper on American humour +is quite the best that we know upon the subject."</p> + +<p><i>Spectator.</i>—"Those of us who are grateful to Mr. Leacock +as an intrepid purveyor of wholesome food for laughter have +not failed to recognize that he mingles shrewdness with +levity—that he is, in short, wise as well as merry."</p> + +</div> + +<p><br /><br /></p> +</div> +<p class="center">LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bbox"> +<p class="center">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p> +<div class="innerbox"><div class="puff"> + +<h2>Further Foolishness</h2> + +<h4>SKETCHES AND SATIRES ON +THE FOLLIES OF THE DAY</h4> + +<p class="center">With Coloured Frontispiece by "<span class="smcap">Fish</span>," and five other +Plates by <span class="smcap">M. Blood</span></p> + +<p class="center"> +<i>Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. 5s. net</i></p> + +<p><i>Morning Post.</i>—"An excellent antidote to war worry."</p> + +<p><i>Evening Standard.</i>—"You will acknowledge, if you have +not done so before, the satirical keenness of Mr. Leacock."</p> + +<p><i>Daily Graphic.</i>—"The book is a joy all through, laughter +on every page."</p> + +<p><i>Times.</i>—"Further examples of the diverting humour of +Professor Leacock."</p> + +<p><i>Bystander.</i>—"'Further Foolishness,' in a word, is the most +admirable tonic which I can prescribe to-day ... the jolliest +possible medley."</p> + +<p><i>Daily Chronicle.</i>—"Mr. Leacock's fun is fine and delicate, +full of quaint surprises; guaranteed to provoke cheerfulness +in the dullest. He is a master-humorist, and this book is +one of the cleverest examples of honest humour and witty +satire ever produced."</p> + +<p><i>Spectator.</i>—"In this new budget of absurdities we are +more than ever reminded of Mr. Leacock's essential affinity +with Artemus Ward, in whose wildest extravagances there +was nearly always a core of wholesome sanity, who was +always on the side of the angels, and who was a true patriot +as well as a great humorist."</p> + +<p><i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i>—"A humorist of high excellence."</p> + +<p><i>Daily Express.</i>—"Really clever and admirably good fun."</p> + +<p><i>Star.</i>—"Some day there will be a Leacock Club. Its +members will all possess a sense of humour."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="center">LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD</p> +</div> + +<p><br /><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bbox"> +<p class="center">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p> +<div class="innerbox"><div class="puff"> +<h3>FRENZIED FICTION</h3> + +<h4><i>FOURTH EDITION</i></h4> +<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 5s. net</i>.</p> + +<p>"Everything in 'Frenzied Fiction' is exhilarating. +Full of good things."—<i>Morning Post</i>.</p> + +<p>"More delightful samples of Leacock humour. These +delightful chapters show Mr. Leacock at his best."</p> + +<p><i>Daily Graphic</i>.</p> + +<p>"Stephen Leacock has firmly established himself in +public favour as one of our greatest humorists. His +readers will be more than pleased with 'Frenzied +Fiction.'"—<i>Evening Standard</i>.</p> + +<p>"It is enough to say that Mr. Leacock retains an +unimpaired command of his happy gift of disguising +sanity in the garb of the ludicrous. There is always +an ultimate core of shrewd common-sense in his burlesques."—<i>Spectator</i>.</p> + +<p>"Full of mellow humour."—<i>Daily Mail</i>.</p> + +<p>"From beginning to end the book is one long gurgle +of delight."—<i>World</i>.</p> + +<p>"If it is your first venture into the Leacockian world +read that delicious parody 'My Revelations as a Spy,' +and we will be sworn that before you've turned half a +dozen pages you will have become a life-member of the +Leacock Lodge."—<i>Town Topics</i>.</p> + +<p>"When humour is such as you get in 'Frenzied +Fiction' it is a very good thing indeed."—<i>Sketch</i>.</p> + +<p>"There is always sufficient sense under Stephen +Leacock's nonsense to enable one to read him at least +twice."—<i>Land and Water</i>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="center">LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD</p> +</div> + +<p><br /><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bbox"> +<p class="center">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p> +<div class="innerbox"><div class="puff"> +<h3>THE HOHENZOLLERNS IN AMERICA</h3> + +<h4>AND OTHER IMPOSSIBILITIES</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 5s. net</i></p> + +<p>"Equal in gay humour and deft satire to any of its +predecessors, and no holiday will be so gay but this +volume will make it gayer.... It is a book of rollicking +good humour that will keep you chuckling long past +summer-time."—<i>Daily Chronicle</i>.</p> + +<p>"At his best, full of whims and oddities ... the +most cheerful of humorists and the wisest of wayside +philosophers."—<i>Daily Telegraph</i>.</p> + +<p>"He has never provided finer food for quiet enjoyment ... his +precious quality of Rabelaisian humanism +has matured and broadened in its sympathy."—<i>Globe</i>.</p> + +<p>"In the author's merriest mood. All of it is distilled +wit and wisdom of the best brand, full of honest laughter, +fun and frolic, comedy and criticism."—<i>Daily Graphic</i>.</p> + +<p>"The book is inspired by that spirit of broad farce +which runs glorious riot through nearly all that Stephen +Leacock has written."—<i>Bookman</i>.</p> + +<p>"He has all the energy and exuberance of the born +humorist.... All admirers will recognize it as typical +of Mr. Leacock's best work."—<i>Manchester Guardian</i>.</p> + +<p>"An entertaining volume."—<i>Scotsman</i>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="center">LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD</p> +</div> + +<p><br /><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bbox" style="text-align: center"> +<p class="center">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p> +<div class="innerbox"><div class="puff"> + +<h3>THE UNSOLVED RIDDLE OF +SOCIAL JUSTICE</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 5s. net</i></p> + +<p>A discussion of the new social unrest, the transformation +of society which it portends and the social +catastrophe which it might precipitate.</p> + +<p>The point of view taken by the author leads towards +the conclusion that the safety of the future lies in a +progressive movement of social control alleviating at +least the misery it cannot obliterate, and based upon +the broad general principle of equality of opportunity, +and a fair start. The chief immediate opportunities for +social betterment, as the writer sees them, lie in the +attempt to give every human being in childhood, +education and opportunity.</p> + +<p>"His book is short, lucid, always to the point, and sometimes +witty."—<i>Times</i>.</p> + +<p>"A book for the times, suggestive, critical and highly +stimulating. Mr. Leacock surveys the troubled hour and +discusses the popular palliatives with a keen, unbiassed intelligence +and splendid sympathy. I hope it will have as +large a circulation as any of his humorous books, for it has +much wisdom in it."—<i>Daily Chronicle</i>.</p> + +<p>"The charm of Mr. Leacock's book is ... that it deals +tersely and clearly with the problem of Social Justice without +technical jargon or any abuse of generalities."—<i>Morning Post</i>.</p> + +</div> +</div> +<p class="center">LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD</p> +</div> +<p><br /><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'> +<a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bbox" style="text-align: center"> +<div style="border-bottom: solid 2px"> +<h3>THE HUMOROUS NOVELS +OF HARRY LEON WILSON</h3> + +<p class="center"> +BUNKER BEAN<br /> +MA PETTENGILL<br /> +SOMEWHERE IN RED GAP<br /> +RUGGLES OF RED GAP<br /> +</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 7s. net</i></p> + +<blockquote> +<p>Harry Leon Wilson is one of the first of American +humorists, and in popularity he is a close rival of +O. Henry. His "Ruggles of Red Gap," published at +the beginning of the war, achieved a distinct success in +England, while the raciness and vivacity of "Ma +Pettengill" have furthered the author's reputation as an +inimitable delineator of Western comedy. An English +edition of this author's works is in course of preparation, +of which the above are the first volumes.</p> + +<p>"The author has the rare and precious gift of original +humour."—<i>Daily Graphic</i>.</p> + +<p>"Thackeray would have enjoyed Mr. Wilson's merry tale +of 'Ruggles of Red Gap.' A very triumph of farce."—<i>Sunday +Times</i>.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wilson is an American humorist of the first water. +We have not for a long time seen anything so clever in its +way and so outrageously funny."—<i>Literary World</i>.</p></blockquote> + +</div> +<p class="center">LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD</p> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Winsome Winnie and other New Nonsense +Novels, by Stephen Leacock + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINSOME WINNIE AND OTHERS *** + +***** This file should be named 20633-h.htm or 20633-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/6/3/20633/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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