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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ece36f0 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67368 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67368) diff --git a/old/67368-0.txt b/old/67368-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 52ea675..0000000 --- a/old/67368-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12141 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sam in the Suburbs, by P. G. Wodehouse - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Sam in the Suburbs - -Author: P. G. Wodehouse - -Release Date: February 10, 2022 [eBook #67368] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Emmanuel Ackerman, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was - produced from images made available by the HathiTrust - Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAM IN THE SUBURBS *** - - - - - - SAM IN THE SUBURBS - - P. G. WODEHOUSE - - - - - By P. G. WODEHOUSE - - - SAM IN THE SUBURBS - BILL THE CONQUEROR - LEAVE IT TO PSMITH - GOLF WITHOUT TEARS - JEEVES - MOSTLY SALLY - THREE MEN AND A MAID - INDISCRETIONS OF ARCHIE - THE LITTLE WARRIOR - A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS - - - - - SAM IN - THE SUBURBS - - - BY - - P. G. WODEHOUSE - - - NEW YORK - GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY - - COPYRIGHT, 1925 - BY P. G. WODEHOUSE - - - [Illustration] - - - THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY, 1925. - SAM IN THE SUBURBS - --Q-- - PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - - - - -CONTENTS - - -CHAPTER PAGE - -I. SAM STARTS ON A JOURNEY 9 - -II. KAY OF VALLEY FIELDS 24 - -III. SAILORS DON’T CARE 44 - -IV. SCENE OUTSIDE FASHIONABLE NIGHT-CLUB 53 - -V. PAINFUL AFFAIR AT A COFFEE-STALL 61 - -VI. A FRIEND IN NEED 65 - -VII. SAM AT SAN RAFAEL 71 - -VIII. SAM AT MON REPOS 78 - -IX. BREAKFAST FOR ONE 82 - -X. SAM FINDS A PHOTOGRAPH 85 - -XI. SAM BECOMES A HOUSEHOLDER 90 - -XII. SAM IS MUCH TOO SUDDEN 97 - -XIII. INTRODUCING A SYNDICATE 127 - -XIV. THE CHIRRUP 144 - -XV. VISITORS AT MON REPOS 152 - -XVI. ASTONISHING STATEMENT OF HASH TODHUNTER 161 - -XVII. ACTIVITIES OF THE DOG AMY 179 - -XVIII. DISCUSSION AT A LUNCHEON TABLE 196 - -XIX. LORD TILBURY ENGAGES AN ALLY 210 - -XX. TROUBLE IN THE SYNDICATE 224 - -XXI. AUNT YSOBEL POINTS THE WAY 232 - -XXII. STORMY TIMES AT MON REPOS 250 - -XXIII. SOAPY MOLLOY’S BUSY AFTERNOON 267 - -XXIV. MAINLY ABOUT TROUSERS 288 - -XXV. SAM HEARS BAD NEWS 302 - -XXVI. SAM HEARS GOOD NEWS 313 - -XXVII. SPIRITED BEHAVIOUR OF MR. BRADDOCK 322 - -XXVIII. THE MISSING MILLIONS 329 - -XXIX. MR. CORNELIUS READS HIS HISTORY 336 - - - - -SAM IN THE SUBURBS - - - - -CHAPTER ONE - -SAM STARTS ON A JOURNEY - - -All day long, New York, stewing in the rays of a late August sun, had -been growing warmer and warmer; until now, at three o’clock in the -afternoon, its inhabitants, with the exception of a little group -gathered together on the tenth floor of the Wilmot Building on Upper -Broadway, had divided themselves by a sort of natural cleavage into two -main bodies--the one crawling about and asking those they met if this -was hot enough for them, the other maintaining that what they minded was -not so much the heat as the humidity. - -The reason for the activity prevailing on the tenth floor of the Wilmot -was that a sporting event of the first magnitude was being pulled off -there--Spike Murphy, of the John B. Pynsent Import and Export Company, -being in the act of contesting the final of the Office Boys’ -High-Kicking Championship against a willowy youth from the Consolidated -Eyebrow Tweezer and Nail File Corporation. The affair was taking place -on the premises of a few stenographers, chewing gum; some male wage -slaves in shirt sleeves; and Mr. John B. Pynsent’s nephew, Samuel -Shotter, a young man of agreeable features, who was acting as referee. - -In addition to being referee, Sam Shotter was also the patron and -promoter of the tourney; the man but for whose vision and enterprise a -wealth of young talent would have lain undeveloped, thereby jeopardising -America’s chances should an event of this kind ever be added to the -program of the Olympic Games. It was he who, wandering about the office -in a restless search for methods of sweetening an uncongenial round of -toil, had come upon Master Murphy practicing kicks against the wall of a -remote corridor and had encouraged him to kick higher. It was he who had -arranged matches with representatives of other firms throughout the -building. And it was he who out of his own pocket had provided the purse -which, as the lad’s foot crashed against the plaster a full inch above -his rival’s best effort, he now handed to Spike together with a few -well-chosen words. - -“Murphy,” said Sam, “is the winner. After a contest conducted throughout -in accordance with the best traditions of American high kicking, he has -upheld the honour of the John B. Pynsent Ex and Imp and retained his -title. In the absence of the boss, therefore, who has unfortunately been -called away to Philadelphia and so is unable to preside at this meeting, -I take much pleasure in presenting him with the guerdon of victory, this -handsome dollar bill. Take it, Spike, and in after years, when you are a -grey-haired alderman or something, look back to this moment and say to -yourself----” - -Sam stopped, a little hurt. He thought he had been speaking rather well, -yet already his audience was walking out on him. Spike Murphy, indeed, -was running. - -“Say to yourself----” - -“When you are at leisure, Samuel,” observed a voice behind him, “I -should be glad of a word with you in my office.” - -Sam turned. - -“Oh, hullo, uncle,” he said. - -He coughed; Mr. Pynsent coughed. - -“I thought you had gone to Philadelphia,” said Sam. - -“Indeed?” said Mr. Pynsent. - -He made no further remark, but proceeded sedately to his room, from -which he emerged again a moment later with a patient look of inquiry on -his face. - -“Come here, Sam,” he said. “Who,” he asked, pointing, “is this?” - -Sam peeped through the doorway and perceived, tilted back in a swivel -chair, a long, lean man of repellent aspect. His large feet rested -comfortably on the desk, his head hung sideways and his mouth was open. -From his mouth, which was of generous proportions, there came a gurgling -snore. - -“Who,” repeated Mr. Pynsent, “is this gentleman?” - -Sam could not help admiring his uncle’s unerring instinct--that amazing -intuition which had led him straight to the realisation that if an -uninvited stranger was slumbering in his pet chair, the responsibility -must of necessity be his nephew Samuel’s. - -“Good Lord!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t know he was there.” - -“A friend of yours?” - -“It’s Hash.” - -“I beg your pardon?” - -“Hash Todhunter, you know, the cook of the _Araminta_. You remember I -took a trip a year ago on a tramp steamer? This fellow was the cook. I -met him on Broadway this afternoon and gave him lunch. I brought him -back here because he wanted to see the place where I work.” - -“Work?” said Mr. Pynsent, puzzled. - -“I had no notion he had strayed into your room.” - -Sam spoke apologetically, but he would have liked to point out that the -blame for all these embarrassing occurrences was really Mr. Pynsent’s. -If a man creates the impression that he is going to Philadelphia and -then does not go, he has only himself to thank for any complications -that may ensue. However, this was a technicality with which he did not -bother his uncle. - -“Shall I wake him?” - -“If you would be so good. And having done so, take him away and store -him somewhere and then come back. I have much to say to you.” - -Shaken by a vigorous hand, the sleeper opened his eyes. Hauled to his -feet, he permitted himself to be led, still in a trancelike condition, -out of the room and down the passage to the cubbyhole where Sam -performed his daily duties. Here, sinking into a chair, he fell asleep -again; and Sam left him and went back to his uncle. Mr. Pynsent was -staring thoughtfully out of the window as he entered. - -“Sit down, Sam,” he said. - -Sam sat down. - -“I’m sorry about all that, uncle.” - -“All what?” - -“All that business that was going on when you came in.” - -“Ah, yes. What was it, by the way?” - -“Spike Murphy was seeing if he could kick higher than a kid from a firm -downstairs.” - -“And did he?” - -“Yes.” - -“Good boy,” said Mr. Pynsent approvingly. “You arranged the competition, -no doubt?” - -“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.” - -“You would. You have been in my employment,” proceeded Mr. Pynsent -evenly, “three months. In that time you have succeeded in thoroughly -demoralising the finest office force in New York.” - -“Oh, uncle!” said Sam reproachfully. - -“Thoroughly,” repeated Mr. Pynsent. “The office boys call you by your -Christian name.” - -“They will do it,” sighed Sam. “I clump their heads, but the habit -persists.” - -“Last Wednesday I observed you kissing my stenographer.” - -“The poor little thing had toothache.” - -“Also, Mr. Ellaby informs me that your work is a disgrace to the firm.” -There was a pause. “The English public school is the curse of the age,” -said Mr. Pynsent dreamily. - -To a stranger the remark might have sounded irrelevant, but Sam -understood the import. He appreciated it for what it was--a nasty crack. - -“Did they teach you anything at Wrykyn, Sam, except football?” - -“Oh, yes.” - -“What?” - -“Oh, lots of things.” - -“I have seen no evidence of it. Why your mother sent you to that place, -instead of to some good business college, I cannot imagine.” - -“Well, you see, father had been there----” - -Sam broke off. Mr. Pynsent, he was aware, had not been fond of the late -Anthony Shotter--considering, and possibly correctly, that his dead -sister had, in marrying that amiable but erratic person, been guilty of -the crowning folly of a frivolous and fluffy-headed life. - -“A strong recommendation,” said Mr. Pynsent dryly. - -Sam had nothing to say to this. - -“You are very like your father in a great many ways,” said Mr. Pynsent. - -Sam let this one go by too. They were coming off the bat a bit fast this -morning, but there was nothing to be done about it. - -“And yet I am fond of you, Sam,” resumed Mr. Pynsent after a brief -pause. - -This was more the stuff. - -“And I am fond of you, uncle,” said Sam in a hearty voice. “When I think -of all you have done for me----” - -“But,” went on Mr. Pynsent, “I feel that I shall like you even better -three thousand miles away from the offices of the Pynsent Export and -Import Company. We are parting, Sam--and immediately.” - -“I’m sorry.” - -“I, on the other hand,” said Mr. Pynsent, “am glad.” - -There was a silence. Sam, feeling that the interview, having reached -this point, might be considered over, got up. - -“Wait a moment,” said Mr. Pynsent. “I want to tell you what plans I have -made for your future.” - -Sam was agreeably surprised. He had not supposed that his future would -be of interest to Mr. Pynsent. - -“Have you made plans?” - -“Yes; everything is settled.” - -“This is fine, uncle,” said Sam cordially. “I thought you were going to -drive me out into the snow.” - -“Do you remember meeting an Englishman named Lord Tilbury at dinner at -my house?” - -Sam did indeed. His Lordship had got him wedged into a corner after the -meal and had talked without a pause for more than half an hour. - -“He is the proprietor of the Mammoth Publishing Company, a concern which -produces a great many daily and weekly papers in London.” - -Sam was aware of this. Lord Tilbury’s conversation had been almost -entirely autobiographical. - -“Well, he is returning to England on Saturday on the _Mauretania_, and -you are going with him.” - -“Eh?” - -“He has offered to employ you in his business.” - -“But I don’t know anything about newspaper work.” - -“You don’t know anything about anything,” Mr. Pynsent pointed out -gently. “It is the effect of your English public-school education. -However, you certainly cannot be a greater failure with Lord Tilbury -than you have been with me. That wastepaper basket over there has been -in my office only four days, and already it knows more about the export -and import business than you would learn if you stayed here fifty -years.” - -Sam made plaintive noises. Fifty years, he considered, was an -overstatement. - -“I concealed nothing of this from Lord Tilbury, but nevertheless he -insists on engaging you.” - -“Odd,” said Sam. He could not help feeling a little flattered at this -intense desire for his services on the part of a man who had met him -only once. Lord Tilbury might be a bore, but there was no getting away -from the fact that he had that gift without which no one can amass a -large fortune--that strange, almost uncanny gift for spotting the good -man when he saw him. - -“Not at all odd,” said Mr. Pynsent. “He and I are in the middle of a -business deal. He is trying to persuade me to do something which at -present I have not made up my mind to do. He thinks that by taking you -off my hands he will put me under an obligation. So he will.” - -“Uncle,” said Sam impressively, “I will make good.” - -“You’d better,” returned Mr. Pynsent, unmelted. “It is your last -chance. There is no earthly reason why I should go on supporting you for -the rest of your life, and I do not intend to do it. If you make a mess -of things at Tilbury House, don’t think that you can come running back -to me. There will be no fatted calf. Remember that.” - -“I will, uncle, I will. But don’t worry. Something tells me I am going -to be good. I shall like going to England.” - -“I am glad to hear that. Well, that is all. Good afternoon.” - -“You know, it’s rather strange that you should be sending me over -there,” said Sam meditatively. - -“I don’t think so. I am glad to have the chance.” - -“What I mean is--do you believe in palmists?” - -“I do not. Good-bye.” - -“Because a palmist told me----” - -“The door,” said Mr. Pynsent, “is one of those which close automatically -when the handle is released.” - -Having tested this statement and proved it correct, Sam went back to his -own quarters, where he found Mr. Clarence (Hash) Todhunter, the popular -and energetic chef of the tramp steamer _Araminta_, awake and smoking a -short pipe. - -“Who was the old boy?” inquired Mr. Todhunter. - -“That was my uncle, the head of the firm.” - -“Did I go to sleep in his room?” - -“You did.” - -“I’m sorry about that, Sam,” said Hash, with manly regret. “I had a late -night last night.” - -He yawned spaciously. Hash Todhunter was a lean, stringy man in the -early thirties, with a high forehead and a ruminative eye. Irritated -messmates who had played poker with him had sometimes compared this eye -to that of a perishing fish; but to the critic whose judgment was not -biased and inflamed by recent pecuniary losses it would have been more -suggestive of a parrot which has looked on life and found it full of -disillusionment. There was a strong pessimistic streak in Hash, and in -his cups he was accustomed to hint darkly that if everyone had their -rights he would have been in the direct line of succession to an -earldom. It was a long and involved story, casting great discredit on -all the parties concerned; but as he never told it twice in the same -way, little credence was accorded to it by a discriminating fo’c’sle. -For the rest, he cooked the best dry hash on the Western Ocean, but was -not proud. - -“Hash,” said Sam, “I’m going over to England.” - -“Me too. We sail Monday.” - -“Do you, by Jove!” said Sam thoughtfully. “I’m supposed to be going on -the _Mauretania_ on Saturday, but I’ve half a mind to come with you -instead. I don’t like the idea of six days _tête-à-tête_ with Lord -Tilbury.” - -“Who’s he?” - -“The proprietor of the Mammoth Publishing Company, where I am going to -work.” - -“Have you got the push here then?” - -It piqued Sam a little that this untutored man should so readily have -divined the facts. He also considered that Hash had failed in tact. He -might at least have pretended that he supposed it to be a case of -handing in a resignation. - -“Yes, you might perhaps put it that way.” - -“Not because of me sittin’ in his chair?” - -“No. There are, apparently, a number of reasons. Hash, it’s a curious -thing, my uncle taking it into his head to shoot me over to England like -this. The other day a palmist told me that I was shortly going to take a -long journey, at the end of which I should meet a fair girl.... Hash!” - -“Ur?” - -“I want to show you something.” - -He fumbled in his pocket and produced a note-case. Having done this, he -paused. Then, seeming to overcome a momentary hesitation, he opened the -case and from it, with the delicacy of an Indian priest at a shrine -handling a precious relic, extracted a folded piece of paper. - -A casual observer, deceived by a certain cheery irresponsibility that -marked his behaviour, might have set Sam Shotter down as one of those -essentially material young men in whose armour romance does not easily -find a chink. He would have erred in this assumption. For all that he -weighed a hundred and seventy pounds of bone and sinew and had when -amused--which was often--a laugh like that of the hyena in its native -jungle, there was sentiment in Sam. Otherwise this paper would scarcely -have been in his possession. - -“But before showing it to you,” he said, eying Hash intently, “I would -like to ask you a question. Do you see anything funny, anything -laughable, anything at all ludicrous, in a fellow going for a fishing -trip to Canada and being stuck in a hut miles from anywhere with nothing -to read and nothing to listen to except the wild duck calling to its -mate and the nifties of a French-Canadian guide who couldn’t speak more -than three words of English----” - -“No,” said Hash. - -“I haven’t finished. Do you--to proceed--see anything absurd in the fact -that such a fellow, in such a situation, finding the photograph of a -beautiful girl tacked up on the wall of the hut by some previous visitor -and having nothing else to look at for five weeks, should have fallen in -love with this photograph? Think before you answer.” - -“No,” said Hash, after consideration. He was not a man who readily -detected the humorous aspect of anything. - -“That’s good,” said Sam. “And lucky for you. Because had you let one -snicker out of yourself--just one--I would have smitten you rather -forcibly on the beezer. Well, I did.” - -“Did what?” - -“Found this picture tacked up on the wall and fell in love with it. -Look!” - -He unfolded the paper reverently. It now revealed itself as a portion of -a page torn from one of those illustrated journals which brighten the -middle of the Englishman’s week. Its sojourn on the wall of the fishing -hut had not improved it. It was faded and yellow, and over one corner a -dark stain had spread itself, seeming to indicate that some occupant of -the hut had at one time or another done a piece of careless carving. -Nevertheless, he gazed at it as a young knight might have gazed upon the -Holy Grail. - -“Well?” - -Hash surveyed the paper closely. - -“That’s mutton gravy,” he said, pointing at the stain and forming a -professional man’s swift diagnosis. “Beef wouldn’t be so dark.” - -Sam regarded him with a glance of concentrated loathing which would have -embarrassed a more sensitive man. - -“I show you this lovely face, all aglow with youth and the joy of life,” -he cried, “and all that seems to interest you is that some foul vandal, -whose neck I should like to wring, has splashed his beastly dinner over -it. Heavens, man, look at that girl! Have you ever seen such a girl?” - -“She’s not bad.” - -“Not bad! Can’t you see she’s simply marvellous?” - -The photograph did, indeed, to a great extent justify Sam’s enthusiasm. -It represented a girl in hunting costume, standing beside her horse. She -was a trim, boyish-looking girl of about eighteen, slightly above the -medium height; and she gazed out of the picture with clear, grave, -steady eyes. At the corner of her mouth there was a little thoughtful -droop. It was a pretty mouth; but Sam, who had made a study of the -picture and considered himself the world’s leading authority upon it, -was of opinion that it would look even prettier when smiling. - -Under the photograph, in leaded capitals, ran the words: - - A FAIR DAUGHTER OF NIMROD. - -Beneath this poetical caption, it is to be presumed, there had -originally been more definite information as to the subject’s identity, -but the coarse hand which had wrenched the page from its setting had -unfortunately happened to tear off the remainder of the letterpress. - -“Simply marvellous,” said Sam emotionally. “What’s that thing of -Tennyson’s about a little English rosebud, she?” - -“Tennyson? There was a feller when I was on the _Sea Bird_, called -Pennyman----” - -“Oh, shut up! Isn’t she a wonder, Hash! And what is more--fair, wouldn’t -you say?” - -Hash scratched his chin. He was a man who liked to think things over. - -“Or dark,” he said. - -“Idiot! Don’t tell me those eyes aren’t blue.” - -“Might be,” admitted Hash grudgingly. - -“And that hair would be golden, or possibly a very light brown.” - -“How’m I to know?” - -“Hash,” said Sam, “the very first thing I do when I get to England is to -find out who that girl is.” - -“Easy enough.” Hash pointed the stem of his pipe at the caption. -“Daughter of Nimrod. All you got to do is get a telephone directory and -look him up. It’ll give the address as well.” - -“How do you think of these things?” said Sam admiringly. “The only -trouble is, suppose old man Nimrod lives in the country. He sounds like -a hunting man.” - -“Ah!” said Hash. “There’s that, o’ course.” - -“No, my best scheme will be to find out what paper this is torn out of, -and then search back through the files for the picture.” - -“Maybe,” said Hash. He had plainly lost interest in the subject. - -Sam was gazing dreamily at the picture. - -“Do you see that little dimple just by the chin, Hash? My goodness, I’d -give something to see that girl smile!” He replaced the paper in his -note-case and sighed. “Love is a wonderful thing, Hash.” - -Mr. Todhunter’s ample mouth curled sardonically. - -“When you’ve seen as much of life as I have,” he replied, “you’d rather -have a cup of tea.” - - - - -CHAPTER TWO - -KAY OF VALLEY FIELDS - - -The nameless individual who had torn from its setting the photograph -which had so excited the admiration of Sam Shotter had, as has been -already indicated, torn untidily. Had he exercised a little more care, -that lovelorn young man would have seen beneath the picture the -following legend: - - MISS KAY DERRICK, DAUGHTER OF COL. EUSTACE - DERRICK, OF MIDWAYS HALL, WILTS. - -And if he had happened to be in Piccadilly Circus on a certain afternoon -some three weeks after his conversation with Hash Todhunter, he might -have observed Miss Derrick in person. For she was standing on the island -there waiting for a Number Three omnibus. - -His first impression, had he so beheld her, would certainly have been -that the photograph, attractive though it was, did not do her justice. -Four years had passed since it had been taken, and between the ages of -eighteen and twenty-two many girls gain appreciably in looks. Kay -Derrick was one of them. He would then have observed that his views on -her appearance had been sound. Her eyes, as he had predicted, were -blue--a very dark, warm blue like the sky on a summer night--and her -hair, such of it as was visible beneath a becoming little hat, was of a -soft golden brown. The third thing he would have noticed about her was -that she looked tired. And, indeed, she was. It was her daily task to -present herself at the house of a certain Mrs. Winnington-Bates in -Thurloe Square, South Kensington, to read to that lady and to attend to -her voluminous correspondence. And nobody who knew Mrs. Winnington-Bates -at all intimately would have disputed the right of any girl who did this -to look as tired as she pleased. - -The omnibus arrived and Kay climbed the steps to the roof. The conductor -presented himself, punch in hand. - -“Fez, pliz.” - -“Valley Fields,” said Kay. - -“Q,” said the conductor. - -He displayed no excitement as he handed her the ticket, none of that -anxious concern exhibited by those who met the young man with the banner -marked Excelsior; for the days are long past when it was considered -rather a dashing adventure to journey to Valley Fields. Two hundred -years ago, when highwaymen roved West Kensington and snipe were shot in -Regent Street, this pleasant suburb in the Postal Division S. E. 21 was -a remote spot to which jaded bucks and beaux would ride when they wanted -to get really close to Nature. But now that vast lake of brick and -asphalt which is London has flooded its banks and engulfed it. The -Valley Fields of to-day is a mass of houses, and you may reach it not -only by omnibus but by train, and even by tram. - -It was a place very familiar to Kay now, so that at times she seemed to -have been there all her life; and yet actually only a few months had -elapsed since she had been washed up on its shores like a piece of -flotsam; or, to put the facts with less imagery, since Mr. Wrenn, of San -Rafael, Burberry Road, had come forward on the death of her parents and -offered her a home there. This Mr. Wrenn being the bad Uncle Matthew who -in the dim past--somewhere around the year 1905--splashed a hideous blot -on the Derrick escutcheon by eloping with Kay’s Aunt Enid. - -Kay had been a child of two at the time, and it was not till she was -eight that she heard the story, her informant being young Willoughby -Braddock, the stout boy who, with the aid of a trustee, owned the great -house and estates adjoining Midways. It was a romantic story--of a young -man who had come down to do Midways for the Stately-Homes-of-England -series appearing in the then newly established Pyke’s _Home Companion_; -who in the process of doing it had made the acquaintance of the sister -of its owner; and who only a few weeks later had induced her to run away -and marry him, thereby--according to the viewpoint of the -family--ruining her chances in this world and her prospects in the next. - -For twenty years Matthew Wrenn had been the family outcast, and now time -had accomplished one more of its celebrated revenges. The death of -Colonel Derrick, which had followed that of his wife by a few months, -had revealed the fact that in addition to Norman blood he had also had -the simple faith which the poet ranks so much more highly--it taking the -form of trusting prospectuses which should not have deceived a child -and endeavouring to make up losses caused by the diminishing value of -land with a series of speculations, each of them more futile and -disastrous than the last. His capital had gone to the four winds, -Midways had gone to the mortgagees, and Kay, apprised of these facts by -a sympathetic family lawyer, had gone to Mr. Matthew Wrenn, now for many -years the editor of that same Pyke’s _Home Companion_ of which he had -once been the mere representative. - -The omnibus stopped at the corner of Burberry Road, and Kay, alighting, -walked toward San Rafael. Burberry Road is not one of the more -fashionable and wealthy districts of Valley Fields, and most of the -houses in it are semi-detached. San Rafael belonged to this class, being -joined, like a stucco Siamese Twin, in indissoluble union to its -next-door neighbour, Mon Repos. It had in front of it a strip of gravel, -two apologetic-looking flower beds with evergreens in them, a fence, and -in the fence a gate, modelled on the five-barred gates of the country. - -Out of this gate, as Kay drew near, there came an elderly gentleman, -tall, with grey hair and a scholarly stoop. - -“Why, hullo, darling,” said Kay. “Where are you off to?” - -She kissed her uncle affectionately, for she had grown very fond of him -in the months of their companionship. - -“Just popping round to have a chat with Cornelius,” said Mr. Wrenn. “I -thought I might get a game of chess.” - -In actual years Matthew Wrenn was on the right side of fifty; but as -editors of papers like Pyke’s _Home Companion_ are apt to do, he looked -older than he really was. He was a man of mild and dreamy aspect, and it -being difficult to imagine him in any dashing rôle, Kay rather supposed -that the energy and fire which had produced the famous elopement must -have come from the lady’s side. - -“Well, don’t be late for dinner,” she said. “Is Willoughby in?” - -“I left him in the garden.” Mr. Wrenn hesitated. “That’s a curious young -man, Kay.” - -“It’s an awful shame that he should be inflicted on you, darling,” said -Kay. “His housekeeper shooed him out of his house, you know. She wanted -to give it a thorough cleaning. And he hates staying at clubs and -hotels, and I’ve known him all my life, and he asked me if we could put -him up, and--well, there you are. But cheer up, it’s only for to-night.” - -“My dear, you know I’m only too glad to put up any friend of yours. But -he’s such a peculiar young fellow. I have been trying to talk to him for -an hour, and all he does is to look at me like a goldfish.” - -“Like a goldfish?” - -“Yes, with his eyes staring and his lips moving without any sound coming -from them.” - -Kay laughed. - -“It’s his speech. I forgot to tell you. The poor lamb has got to make a -speech to-night at the annual dinner of the Old Boys of his school. He’s -never made one before, and it’s weighing on his mind terribly.” - -Mr. Wrenn looked relieved. - -“Oh, I didn’t know. Honestly, my dear, I thought that he must be -mentally deficient.” He looked at his watch. “Well, if you think you can -entertain him, I will be going along.” - -Mr. Wrenn went on his way; and Kay, passing through the five-barred -gate, followed the little gravel path which skirted the house and came -into the garden. - -Like all the gardens in the neighbourhood, it was a credit to its -owner--on the small side, but very green and neat and soothing. The fact -that, though so widely built over, Valley Fields has not altogether lost -its ancient air of rusticity is due entirely to the zeal and devotion of -its amateur horticulturists. More seeds are sold each spring in Valley -Fields, more lawn mowers pushed, more garden rollers borrowed, more -snails destroyed, more green fly squirted with patent mixtures, than in -any other suburb on the Surrey side of the river. Brixton may have its -Bon Marché and Sydenham its Crystal Palace; but when it comes to -pansies, roses, tulips, hollyhocks and nasturtiums, Valley Fields points -with pride. - -In addition to its other attractive features, the garden of San Rafael -contained at this moment a pinkish, stoutish, solemn young man in a -brown suit, who was striding up and down the lawn with a glassy stare in -his eyes. - -“Hullo, Willoughby,” said Kay. - -The young man came out of his trance with a strong physical convulsion. - -“Oh, hullo, Kay.” - -He followed her across the lawn to the tea table which stood in the -shade of a fine tree. For there are trees in this favoured spot as well -as flowers. - -“Tea, Willoughby?” said Kay, sinking gratefully into a deck chair. “Or -have you had yours?” - -“Yes, I had some.... I think----” Mr. Braddock weighed the question -thoughtfully. “Yes.... Yes, I’ve had some.” - -Kay filled her cup and sipped luxuriously. - -“Golly, I’m tired!” she said. - -“Had a bad day?” - -“Much the same as usual.” - -“Mrs. B. not too cordial?” - -“Not very. And, unfortunately, the son and heir was cordiality itself.” - -Mr. Braddock nodded. - -“A bit of a trial, that lad.” - -“A bit.” - -“Wants kicking.” - -“Very badly.” - -Kay gave a little wriggle of distaste. Technically, her duties at -Thurloe Square consisted of reading and writing Mrs. Winnington-Bates’ -letters; but what she was engaged for principally, she sometimes -thought, was to act as a sort of spiritual punching bag for her -employer. To-day that lady had been exceptionally trying. Her son, on -the other hand, who had recently returned to his home after an -unsuccessful attempt to learn poultry farming in Sussex and was lounging -about it, with little to occupy him, had shown himself, in his few -moments of opportunity, more than usually gallant. What life needed to -make it a trifle easier, Kay felt, was for Mrs. Bates to admire her a -little more and for Claude Bates to admire her a little less. - -“I remember him at school,” said Mr. Braddock. “A worm.” - -“Was he at school with you?” - -“Yes. Younger than me. A beastly little kid who stuffed himself with -food and frousted over fires and shirked games. I remember Sam Shotter -licking him once for stealing jam sandwiches at the school shop. By the -way, Sam’s coming over here. I had a letter from him.” - -“Is he? And who is he? You’ve never mentioned his name before.” - -“Haven’t I told you about old Sam Shotter?” asked Mr. Braddock, -surprised. - -“Never. But he sounds wonderfully attractive. Anyone who licked Claude -Bates must have a lot of good in him.” - -“He was at school with me.” - -“What a lot of people seem to have been at school with you!” - -“Well, there were about six hundred fellows at Wrykyn, you know. Sam and -I shared a study. Now there is a chap I envy. He’s knocked about all -over the world, having all sorts of fun. America one day, Australia the -next, Africa the day after.” - -“Quick mover,” said Kay. - -“The last I heard from him he was in his uncle’s office in New York, but -in this letter he says he’s coming over to work at Tilbury House.” - -“Tilbury House? Really? I wonder if uncle will meet him.” - -“Don’t you think it would be a sound move if I gave him a dinner or -something where he could meet a few of the lads? You and your uncle, of -course--and if I could get hold of old Tilbury.” - -“Do you know Lord Tilbury?” - -“Oh, yes; I play bridge with him sometimes at the club. And he took my -shooting last year.” - -“When does Mr. Shotter arrive?” - -“I don’t know. He says it’s uncertain. You see, he’s coming over on a -tramp steamer.” - -“A tramp steamer? Why?” - -“Well, it’s the sort of thing he does. Sort of thing I’d like to do -too.” - -“You?” said Kay, amazed. Willoughby Braddock had always seemed to her a -man to whose well-being the refinements--and even the luxuries--of -civilisation were essential. One of her earliest recollections was of -sitting in a tree and hurling juvenile insults at him, it having come to -her ears through reliable channels that he habitually wore bed socks. -“What nonsense, Willoughby! You would hate roughing it.” - -“I wouldn’t,” said Mr. Braddock stoutly. “I’d love a bit of adventure.” - -“Well, why don’t you have it? You’ve got plenty of money. You could be a -pirate of the Spanish Main if you wanted.” - -Mr. Braddock shook his head wistfully. - -“I can’t get away from Mrs. Lippett.” - -Willoughby Braddock was one of those unfortunate bachelors who are -doomed to live under the thrall of either a housekeeper or a valet. His -particular cross in life was his housekeeper, his servitude being -rendered all the more unescapable by the fact that Mrs. Lippett had been -his nurse in the days of his childhood. There are men who can defy a -woman. There are men who can cope with a faithful old retainer. But if -there are men who can tackle a faithful old female retainer who has -frequently smacked them with the back of a hairbrush, Willoughby -Braddock was not one of them. - -“She would have a fit or go into a decline or something if I tried to -break loose.” - -“Poor old Willoughby! Life can be very hard, can’t it? By the way, I met -my uncle outside. He was complaining that you were not very chummy.” - -“No, was he?” - -“He said you just sat there looking at him like a goldfish.” - -“Oh, I say!” said Mr. Braddock remorsefully. “I’m awfully sorry. I mean, -after he’s been so decent, putting me up and everything. I hope you -explained to him that I was frightfully worried about this speech.” - -“Yes, I did. But I don’t see why you should be. It’s perfectly simple -making a speech. Especially at an Old Boys’ dinner, where they won’t -expect anything very much. If I were you, I should just get up and tell -them one or two funny stories and sit down again.” - -“I’ve got one story,” said Mr. Braddock more hopefully. “It’s about an -Irishman.” - -“Pat or Mike?” - -“I thought of calling him Pat. He’s in New York and he goes down to the -dock and he sees a diver coming up out of the water--in a diving suit, -you know--and he thinks the fellow--the diver, you understand--has -walked across the Atlantic and wishes he had thought of doing the same -himself, so as to have saved the fare, don’t you know.” - -“I see. One of those weak-minded Irishmen.” - -“Do you think it will amuse them?” asked Mr. Braddock anxiously. - -“I should think they would roll off their seats.” - -“No, really?” He broke off and stretched out a hand in alarm. “I say, -you weren’t thinking of having one of those rock cakes, were you?” - -“I was. But I won’t if you don’t want me to. Aren’t they good?” - -“Good? My dear old soul,” said Mr. Braddock earnestly, “they are Clara’s -worst effort--absolutely her very worst. I had to eat one because she -came and stood over me and watched me do it. It beats me why you don’t -sack that girl. She’s a rotten cook.” - -“Sack Claire?” Kay laughed. “You might just as well try to sack her -mother.” - -“I suppose you’re right.” - -“You can’t sack a Lippett.” - -“No, I see what you mean. I wish she wasn’t so dashed familiar with a -fellow, though.” - -“Well, she has known you almost as long as I have. Mrs. Lippett has -always been a sort of mother to you, so I suppose Claire regards herself -as a sort of sister.” - -“Yes, I suppose it can’t be helped,” said Mr. Braddock bravely. He -glanced at his watch. “Ought to be going and dressing. I’ll find you out -here before I leave?” - -“Oh, yes.” - -“Well, I’ll be pushing along. I say, you do think that story about the -Irishman is all right?” - -“Best thing I ever heard,” said Kay loyally. - -For some minutes after he had left her she sat back in her chair with -her eyes closed, relaxing in the evening stillness of this pleasant -garden. - -“Finished with the tea, Miss Kay?” - -Kay opened her eyes. A solid little figure in a print dress was standing -at her side. A jaunty maid’s cap surmounted this person’s tow-coloured -hair. She had a perky nose and a wide, friendly mouth, and she beamed -upon Kay devotedly. - -“Brought you these,” she said, dropping a rug, two cushions and a -footstool, beneath the burden of which she had been staggering across -the lawn like a small pack mule. “Make you nice and comfortable, and -then you can get a nice nap. I can see you’re all tired out.” - -“That’s awfully good of you, Claire. But you shouldn’t have bothered.” - -Claire Lippett, daughter of Willoughby Braddock’s autocratic housekeeper -and cook and maid-of-all-work at San Rafael, was a survivor of the -Midways epoch. She had entered the Derrick household at the age of -twelve, her duties at that time being vague and leaving her plenty of -leisure for surreptitious bird’s-nesting with Kay, then thirteen. On her -eighteenth birthday she had been promoted to the post of Kay’s personal -maid, and from that moment may be said formally to have taken charge. -The Lippett motto was Fidelity, and not even the famous financial crash -had been able to dislodge this worthy daughter of the clan. Resolutely -following Kay into exile, she had become, as stated, Mr. Wrenn’s cook. -And, as Mr. Braddock had justly remarked, a very bad cook too. - -“You oughtn’t to go getting yourself all tired, Miss Kay. You ought to -be sitting at your ease.” - -“Well, so I am,” said Kay. - -There were times when, like Mr. Braddock, she found the Lippett -protectiveness a little cloying. She was a high-spirited girl and wanted -to face the world with a defiant “Who cares?” and it was not easy to do -this with Claire coddling her all the time as if she were a fragile and -sensitive plant. Resistance, however, was useless. Nobody had ever yet -succeeded in curbing the motherly spirit of the Lippetts, and probably -nobody ever would. - -“Meantersay,” explained Claire, adjusting the footstool, “you ought not -to be soiling your hands with work, that’s what I mean. It’s a shame you -should be having to----” - -She stopped abruptly. She had picked up the tea tray and made a wounding -discovery. - -“You haven’t touched my rock cakes,” she said in a voice in which -reproach and disappointment were nicely blended. “And I made them for -you special.” - -“I didn’t want to spoil my dinner,” said Kay hastily. Claire was a -temperamental girl, quick to resent slurs on her handiwork. “I’m sure -you’ve got something nice.” - -Claire considered the point. - -“Well, yes and no,” she said. “If you’re thinking of the pudding, I’m -afraid that’s off. The kitten fell into the custard.” - -“No!” - -“She did. And when I’d fished her out there wasn’t hardly any left. -Seemed to have soaked it into her like as if she was a sponge. Still, -there ’ud be enough for you if Mr. Wrenn didn’t want any.” - -“No, it doesn’t matter, thanks,” said Kay earnestly. - -“Well, I’m trying a new soup, which’ll sort of make up for it. It’s one -I read in a book. It’s called pottage ar lar princess. You’re sure you -won’t have one of these rock cakes, Miss Kay? Put strength into you.” - -“No, thanks, really.” - -“Right-ho; just as you say.” - -Miss Lippett crossed the lawn and disappeared, and a soothing peace fell -upon the garden. A few minutes later, however, just as Kay’s head was -beginning to nod, from an upper window there suddenly blared forth on -the still air a loud and raucous voice, suggestive of costermongers -advertising their Brussels sprouts or those who call the cattle home -across the Sands of Dee. - -“I am reminded by a remark of our worthy president,” roared the voice, -“of a little story which may be new to some of you present here -to-night. It seems that a certain Irishman had gone down to New York--I -mean, he was in New York and had gone down to the docks--and while -there--while there----” - -The voice trailed off. Apparently the lungs were willing but the memory -was weak. Presently it broke out in another place. - -“For the school, gentlemen, our dear old school, occupies a place in -our hearts--a place in our hearts--in the hearts of all of us--in -all our hearts--in our hearts, gentlemen--which nothing else can -fill. It forms, if I may put it that way, Mr. President and -gentlemen--forms--forms--forms a link that links the generations. -Whether we are fifty years old or forty or thirty or twenty, we are none -the less all of us contemporaries. And why? Because, gentlemen, we are -all--er--linked by that link.” - -“Jolly good!” murmured Kay, impressed. - -“That is why, Mr. President and gentlemen, though I am glad, delighted, -pleased, happy and--er--overjoyed to see so many of you responding to -the annual call of our dear old school, I am not surprised.” - -From the kitchen door, a small knife in one hand and a half-peeled onion -in the other, there emerged the stocky figure of Claire Lippett. She -gazed up at the window wrathfully. - -“Hi!” - -“No, not surprised.” - -“Hi!” - -“And talking of being surprised, I am reminded of a little story which -may be new to some of you present here to-night. It seems that a certain -Irishman----” - -From the days when their ancestresses had helped the menfolk of the -tribe to make marauding Danes wish they had stayed in Denmark, the -female members of Claire Lippett’s family had always been women of -action. Having said “Hi!” twice, their twentieth-century descendant -seemed to consider that she had done all that could reasonably be -expected of her in the way of words. With a graceful swing of her right -arm, she sent the onion shooting upward. And such was the never-failing -efficiency of this masterly girl that it whizzed through the open -window, from which, after a brief interval, there appeared, leaning -out, the dress-shirted and white-tied upper portion of Mr. Willoughby -Braddock. He was rubbing his ear. - -“Be quiet, can’t you?” said Miss Lippett. - -Mr. Braddock gazed austerely into the depths. Except that the positions -of the characters were inverted and the tone of the dialogue somewhat -different, it might have been the big scene out of _Romeo and Juliet_. - -“What did you say?” - -“I said be quiet. Miss Kay wants to get a bit of sleep. How can she get -a bit of sleep with that row going on?” - -“Clara!” said Mr. Braddock portentously. - -“Claire,” corrected the girl coldly, insisting on a point for which she -had had to fight all her life. - -Mr. Braddock gulped. - -“I shall--er--I shall speak to your mother,” he said. - -It was a futile threat, and Claire signified as much by jerking her -shoulder in a scornful and derogatory manner before stumping back to the -house with all the honours of war. She knew--and Mr. Braddock knew that -she knew--that complaints respecting her favourite daughter would be -coldly received by Mrs. Lippett. - -Mr. Braddock withdrew from the window, and presently appeared in the -garden, beautifully arrayed. - -“Why, Willoughby,” said Kay admiringly, “you look wonderful!” - -The kindly compliment did much to soothe Mr. Braddock’s wounded -feelings. - -“No, really?” he said; and felt, as he had so often felt before, that -Kay was a girl in a million, and that if only the very idea of -matrimony did not scare a fellow so confoundedly, a fellow might very -well take a chance and see what would happen if he asked her to marry -him. - -“And the speech sounded fine.” - -“Really? You know, I got a sudden fear that my voice might not carry.” - -“It carries,” Kay assured him. - -The clouds which her compliments had chased from Mr. Braddock’s brow -gathered again. - -“I say, Kay, you know, you really ought to do something about that girl -Clara. She’s impossible. I mean, throwing onions at a fellow.” - -“You mustn’t mind. Don’t worry about her; it’ll make you forget your -speech. How long are you supposed to talk?” - -“About ten minutes, I imagine. You know, this is going to just about -kill me.” - -“What you must do is drink lots and lots of champagne.” - -“But it makes me spotty.” - -“Well, be spotty. I shan’t mind.” - -Mr. Braddock considered. - -“I will,” he said. “It’s a very good idea. Well, I suppose I ought to be -going.” - -“You’ve got your key? That’s right. You won’t be back till pretty late, -of course. I’ll go and tell Claire not to bolt the door.” - -When Kay reached the kitchen she found that her faithful follower had -stepped out of the pages of _Romeo and Juliet_ into those of _Macbeth_. -She was bending over a cauldron, dropping things into it. The kitten, -now comparatively dry and decustarded, eyed her with bright interest -from a shelf on the dresser. - -“This is the new soup, Miss Kay,” she announced with modest pride. - -“It smells fine,” said Kay, wincing slightly as a painful aroma of -burning smote her nostrils. “I say, Claire, I wish you wouldn’t throw -onions at Mr. Braddock.” - -“I went up and got it back,” Claire reassured her. “It’s in the soup -now.” - -“You’ll be in the soup if you do that sort of thing. What,” asked Kay -virtuously, “will the neighbours say?” - -“There aren’t any neighbours,” Claire pointed out. A wistful look came -into her perky face. “I wish someone would hurry up and move into Mon -Ree-poss,” she said. “I don’t like not having next-doors. Gets lonely -for a girl all day with no one to talk to.” - -“Well, when you talk to Mr. Braddock, don’t do it at the top of your -voice. Please understand that I don’t like it.” - -“Now,” said Claire simply, “you’re cross with me.” And without further -preamble she burst into a passionate flood of tears. - -It was this sensitiveness of hers that made it so difficult for the -young chatelaine of San Rafael to deal with the domestic staff. Kay was -a warm-hearted girl, and a warm-hearted girl can never be completely at -her ease when she is making cooks cry. It took ten minutes of sedulous -petting to restore the emotional Miss Lippett to her usual cheerfulness. - -“I’ll never raise my voice so much as above a whisper to the man,” she -announced remorsefully at the end of that period. “All the same----” - -Kay had no desire to reopen the Braddock argument. - -“That’s all right, Claire. What I really came to say was--don’t put the -chain up on the front door to-night, because Mr. Braddock is sure to be -late. But he will come in quite quietly and won’t disturb you.” - -“He’d better not,” said Miss Lippett grimly. “I’ve got a revolver.” - -“A revolver!” - -“Ah!” Claire bent darkly over her cauldron. “You never know when there -won’t be burglars in these low parts. The girl at Pontresina down the -road was telling me they’d had a couple of milk cans sneaked off their -doorstep only yesterday. And I’ll tell you another thing, Miss Kay. It’s -my belief there’s been people breaking into Mon Ree-poss.” - -“What would they do that for? It’s empty.” - -“It wasn’t empty last night. I was looking out of the window with one of -my noo-ralgic headaches--must have been between two and three in the -morning--and there was mysterious lights going up and down the -staircase.” - -“You imagined it.” - -“Begging your pardon, Miss Kay, I did not imagine it. There they were, -as plain as plain. Might have been one of these electric torches the -criminal classes use. If you want to know what I think, Miss Kay, that -Mon Ree-poss is what I call a house of mystery, and I shan’t be sorry -when somebody respectable comes and takes it. The way it is now, we’re -just as likely as not to wake up and find ourselves all murdered in our -beds.” - -“You mustn’t be so nervous.” - -“Nervous?” replied Claire indignantly. “Nervous? Take more than a -burglar to make me nervous. All I’m saying is, I’m prepared.” - -“Well, don’t go shooting Mr. Braddock.” - -“That,” said Miss Lippett, declining to commit herself, “is as may be.” - - - - -CHAPTER THREE - -SAILORS DON’T CARE - - -Some five hours after Willoughby Braddock’s departure from San Rafael, a -young man came up Villiers Street, and turning into the Strand, began to -stroll slowly eastward. The Strand, it being the hour when the theatres -had begun to empty themselves, was a roaring torrent of humanity and -vehicles; and he looked upon the bustling scene with the affectionate -eye of one who finds the turmoil of London novel and attractive. He was -a nice-looking young man, but what was most immediately noticeable about -him was his extraordinary shabbiness. Both his shoes were split across -the toe; his hands were in the pockets of a stained and weather-beaten -pair of blue trousers; and he gazed about him from under the brim of a -soft hat which could have been worn without exciting comment by any -scarecrow. - -So striking was his appearance that two exquisites, emerging from the -Savoy Hotel and pausing on the pavement to wait for a vacant taxi, eyed -him with pained disapproval as he approached, and then, starting, stared -in amazement. - -“Good Lord!” said the first exquisite. - -“Good heavens!” said the second. - -“See who that is?” - -“S. P. Shotter! Used to be in the School House.” - -“Captain of football my last year.” - -“But, I say, it can’t be! Dressed like that, I mean.” - -“It is.” - -“Good heavens!” - -“Good Lord!” - -These two were men who had, in the matter of costume, a high standard. -Themselves snappy and conscientious dressers, they judged their fellows -hardly. Yet even an indulgent critic would have found it difficult not -to shake his head over the spectacle presented by Sam Shotter as he -walked the Strand that night. - -The fact is it is not easy for a young man of adventurous and -inquisitive disposition to remain dapper throughout a voyage on a tramp -steamer. The _Araminta_, which had arrived at Millwall Dock that -afternoon, had taken fourteen days to cross the Atlantic, and during -those fourteen days Sam had entered rather fully into the many-sided -life of the ship. He had spent much time in an oily engine room; he had -helped the bos’n with a job of painting; he had accompanied the chief -engineer on his rambles through the coal bunkers; and on more than one -occasion had endeared himself to languid firemen by taking their shovels -and doing a little amateur stoking. One cannot do these things and be -foppish. - -Nevertheless, it would have surprised him greatly had he known that his -appearance was being adversely criticised, for he was in that happy -frame of mind when men forget they have an appearance. He had dined -well, having as his guest his old friend Hash Todhunter. He had seen a -motion picture of squashy sex appeal. And now, having put Hash on an -eastbound tram, he was filled with that pleasant sense of well-being and -content which comes on those rare occasions when the world is just about -right. So far from being abashed by the shabbiness of his exterior Sam -found himself experiencing, as he strolled along the Strand, a -gratifying illusion of having bought the place. He felt like the young -squire returned from his travels and revisiting the old village. - -Nor, though he was by nature a gregarious young man and fond of human -society, did the fact that he was alone depress him. Much as he liked -Hash Todhunter, he had not been sorry to part from him. Usually an -entertaining companion, Hash had been a little tedious to-night, owing -to a tendency to confine the conversation to the subject of a dog -belonging to a publican friend of his which was running in a whippet -race at Hackney Marshes next morning. Hash had, it seemed, betted his -entire savings on this animal, and not content with this, had pestered -Sam to lend him all his remaining cash to add to the investment. And -though Sam had found no difficulty in remaining firm, it is always a -bore to have to keep saying no. - -The two exquisites looked at each other apprehensively. - -“Shift ho, before he touches us, what?” said the first. - -“Shift absolutely ho,” assented the second. - -It was too late. The companion of their boyhood had come up, and after -starting to pass had paused, peering at them from under that dreadful -hat, which seemed to cut them like a knife, in the manner of one trying -to identify half-remembered faces. - -“Bates and Tresidder!” he exclaimed at length. “By Jove!” - -“Hullo,” said the first exquisite. - -“Hullo!” said the second. - -“Well, well!” said Sam. - -There followed one of those awkward silences which so often occur at -these meetings of old schoolmates. The two exquisites were wondering -dismally when the inevitable touch would come, and Sam had just -recollected that these were two blighters whom, when _in statu -pupillari_, he had particularly disliked. Nevertheless, etiquette -demanded that a certain modicum of conversation be made. - -“What have you been doing with yourselves?” asked Sam. “You look very -festive.” - -“Been dining,” said the first exquisite. - -“Old Wrykynian dinner,” said the second. - -“Oh, yes, of course. It always was at this time of year, wasn’t it? Lots -of the lads there, I suppose?” - -“Oh, yes.” - -“Good dinner?” - -“Goodish,” said the first exquisite. - -“Not baddish,” said the second. - -“Rotten speeches, though.” - -“Awful!” - -“Can’t think where they dig these blokes up.” - -“No.” - -“That man Braddock.” - -“Frightful.” - -“Don’t tell me the old Bradder actually made a speech!” said Sam, -pleased. “Was he very bad?” - -“Worst of the lot.” - -“Absolutely!” - -“That story about the Irishman.” - -“Foul!” - -“And all that rot about the dear old school.” - -“Ghastly!” - -“If you ask me,” said the first exquisite severely, “my opinion is that -he was as tight as an owl.” - -“Stewed to the eyebrows,” said the second. - -“I watched him during dinner and he was mopping up the stuff like a -vacuum cleaner.” - -There was a silence. - -“Well,” said the first exquisite uncomfortably, “we must be pushing on.” - -“Dashing off,” said the second exquisite. - -“Got to go to supper at the Angry Cheese.” - -“The where?” asked Sam. - -“Angry Cheese. New night-club in Panton Street. See you sometime, what?” - -“Oh, yes,” said Sam. - -Another silence was about to congeal, when a taxi crawled up and the two -exquisites leaped joyously in. - -“Awful, a fellow going right under like that,” said the first. - -“Ghastly,” said the second. - -“Lucky we got away.” - -“Yes.” - -“He was shaping for a touch,” said the first exquisite. - -“Trembling on his lips,” said the second. - -Sam walked on. Although the Messrs. Bates and Tresidder had never been -favourites of his, they belonged to what Mr. Braddock would have -called--and, indeed, had called no fewer than eleven times in his speech -that night--the dear old school; and the meeting with them had left him -pleasantly stimulated. The feeling of being a _seigneur_ revisiting his -estates after long absence grew as he threaded his way through the -crowd. He eyed the passers-by in a jolly, Laughing Cavalier sort of way, -wishing he knew them well enough to slap them on the back. And when he -reached the corner of Wellington Street and came upon a disheveled -vocalist singing mournfully in the gutter, he could not but feel it a -personal affront that this sort of thing should be going on in his -domain. He was conscious of a sensation of being individually -responsible for this poor fellow’s reduced condition, and the situation -seemed to him to call for largess. - -On setting out that night Sam had divided his money into two portions. -His baggage, together with his letter of credit, had preceded him across -the ocean on the _Mauretania_; and as it might be a day or so before he -could establish connection with it, he had prudently placed the bulk of -his ready money in his note-case, earmarking it for the purchase of new -clothes and other necessaries on the morrow so that he might be enabled -to pay his first visit to Tilbury House in becoming state. The -remainder, sufficient for the evening’s festivities, he had put in his -trousers pockets. - -It was into his right trousers pocket therefore that he now groped. His -fingers closed on a half-crown. He promptly dropped it. He was feeling -_seigneurial_, but not so _seigneurial_ as that. Something more in the -nature of a couple of coppers was what he was looking for, and it -surprised him to find that except for the half-crown the pocket appeared -to be empty. He explored the other pocket. That was empty too. - -The explanation was, of course, that the life of pleasure comes high. -You cannot go stuffing yourself and a voracious sea cook at restaurants, -taking buses and Underground trains all over the place, and finally -winding up at a cinema palace, without cutting into your capital. Sam -was reluctantly forced to the conclusion that the half-crown was his -only remaining spare coin. He was, accordingly, about to abandon the -idea of largess and move on, when the vocalist, having worked his way -through You’re the Sort of a Girl That Men Forget, began to sing that -other popular ballad entitled Sailors Don’t Care. And it was no doubt -the desire to refute the slur implied in these words on the great -brotherhood of which he was an amateur member that decided Sam to be -lavish. - -The half-crown changed hands. - -Sam resumed his walk. At a quarter past eleven at night there is little -to amuse and interest the stroller east of Wellington Street, so he now -crossed the road and turned westward. And he had not been walking more -than a few paces when he found himself looking into the brightly lighted -window of a small restaurant that appeared to specialise in shellfish. -The slab beyond the glass was paved with the most insinuating oysters. -Overcome with emotion, Sam stopped in his tracks. - -There is something about the oyster, nestling in its shell, which in the -hours that come when the theatres are closed and London is beginning to -give itself up to nocturnal revelry stirs right-thinking men like a -bugle. There swept over Sam a sudden gnawing desire for nourishment. -Oysters with brown bread and a little stout were, he perceived, just -what this delightful evening demanded by way of a fitting climax. He -pulled out his note-case. Even if it meant an inferior suit next -morning, one of those Treasury notes which lay there must be broken into -here and now. - -It seemed to Sam, looking back later at this moment, that at the very -first touch the note-case had struck him as being remarkably thin. It -appeared to have lost its old jolly plumpness, as if some wasting fever -had struck it. Indeed, it gave the impression, when he opened it, of -being absolutely empty. - -It was not absolutely empty. It is true that none of the Treasury notes -remained, but there was something inside--a dirty piece of paper on -which were words written in pencil. He read them by the light that -poured from the restaurant window: - - “DEAR SAM,--You will doubtless be surprised, Sam, to learn that I - have borowed your money. Dear Sam, I will send it back tomorow A.M. - prompt. Nothing can beat that wipet, Sam, so I have borowed your - money. - - “Trusting this finds you in the pink, - - “Yrs. Obedtly, - - “C. TODHUNTER.” - -Sam stood staring at this polished communication with sagging jaw. For -an instant it had a certain obscurity, the word “wipet” puzzling him -particularly. - -Then, unlike the missing money, it all came back to him. - -The rush of traffic was diminishing now, and the roar of a few minutes -back had become a mere rumble. It was almost as if London, sympathising -with his sorrow, had delicately hushed its giant voice. To such an -extent, in fact, was its voice hushed that that of the Wellington Street -vocalist was once more plainly audible, and there was in what he was -singing a poignant truth which had not impressed itself upon Sam when he -had first heard it. - -“Sailors don’t care,” chanted the vocalist. “Sailors don’t care. It’s -something to do with the salt in the blood. Sailors don’t care.” - - - - -CHAPTER FOUR - -SCENE OUTSIDE FASHIONABLE NIGHT-CLUB - - -The mental condition of a man who at half past eleven at night suddenly -finds himself penniless and without shelter in the heart of the great -city must necessarily be for a while somewhat confused. Sam’s first -coherent thought was to go back and try to recover that half-crown from -the wandering minstrel. After a very brief reflection, however, he -dismissed this scheme as too visionary for practical consideration. His -acquaintance with the other had been slight, but he had seen enough of -him to gather that he was not one of those rare spiritual fellows who -give half-crowns back. The minstrel was infirm and old, but many years -would have to elapse before he became senile enough for that. No, some -solution on quite different lines was required; and, thinking deeply, -Sam began to move slowly in the direction of Charing Cross. - -He was as yet far from being hopeless. Indeed, his mood at this point -might have been called optimistic; for he realised that, if this -disaster had been decreed by fate from the beginning of time--and he -supposed it had been, though that palmist had made no mention of it--it -could hardly have happened at a more convenient spot. The Old Wrykynian -dinner had only just broken up, which meant that this portion of London -must be full of men who had been at school with him and would doubtless -be delighted to help him out with a temporary loan. At any moment now he -might run into some kindly old schoolfellow. - -And almost immediately he did. Or, rather, the old schoolfellow ran into -him. He had reached the Vaudeville Theatre and had paused, debating -within himself the advisability of crossing the street and seeing how -the hunting was on the other side, when a solid body rammed him in the -back. - -“Oh, sorry! Frightfully sorry! I say, awfully sorry!” - -It was a voice which had been absent from Sam’s life for some years, but -he recognised it almost before he had recovered his balance. He wheeled -joyfully round on the stout and red-faced young man who was with some -difficulty retrieving his hat from the gutter. - -“Excuse me,” he said, “but you are extraordinarily like a man I used to -know named J. W. Braddock.” - -“I am J. W. Braddock.” - -“Ah,” said Sam, “that accounts for the resemblance.” - -He contemplated his erstwhile study companion with affection. He would -have been glad at any time to meet the old Bradder, but he was -particularly glad to meet him now. As Mr. Braddock himself might have -put it, he was glad, delighted, pleased, happy and overjoyed. Willoughby -Braddock, bearing out the words of the two exquisites, was obviously in -a somewhat vinous condition, but Sam was no Puritan and was not offended -by this. The thing about Mr. Braddock that impressed itself upon him to -the exclusion of all else was the fact that he looked remarkably rich. -He had that air, than which there is none more delightful, of being the -sort of man who would lend a fellow a fiver without a moment’s -hesitation. - -Willoughby Braddock had secured his hat, and he now replaced it in a -sketchy fashion on his head. His face was flushed, and his eyes, always -slightly prominent, seemed to protrude like those of a snail--and an -extremely inebriated snail, at that. - -“Imarraspeesh,” he said. - -“I beg your pardon?” said Sam. - -“I made a speesh.” - -“Yes, so I heard.” - -“You heard my speesh?” - -“I heard that you had made one.” - -“How did you hear my speesh?” said Mr. Braddock, plainly mystified. “You -weren’t at the dinner.” - -“No, but----” - -“You couldn’t have been at the dinner,” proceeded Mr. Braddock, -reasoning closely, “because evening dress was obliggery and you aren’t -obliggery. I’ll tell you what--between you and me, I don’t know who the -deuce you are.” - -“You don’t know me?” - -“No, I don’t know you.” - -“Pull yourself together, Bradder. I’m Sam Shotter.” - -“Sham Sotter?” - -“If you prefer it that way certainly. I’ve always pronounced it Sam -Shotter myself.” - -“Sam Shotter?” - -“That’s right.” - -Mr. Braddock eyed him narrowly. - -“Look here,” he said, “I’ll tell you something--something that’ll -interest you--something that’ll interest you very much. You’re Sam -Shotter.” - -“That’s it.” - -“We were at school together.” - -“We were.” - -“The dear old school.” - -“Exactly.” - -Intense delight manifested itself in Mr. Braddock’s face. He seized -Sam’s hand and wrung it warmly. - -“How are you, my dear old chap, how are you?” he cried. “Old Sham -Spotter, by gad! By Jove! By George! My goodness! Fancy that! Well, -good-bye.” - -And with a beaming smile he suddenly swooped across the road and was -lost to sight. - -The stoutest heart may have its black moments. Depression claimed Sam -for its own. There is no agony like that of the man who has intended to -borrow money and finds that he has postponed the request till too late. -With bowed shoulders, he made his way eastward. He turned up Charing -Cross Road, and thence by way of Green Street into Leicester Square. He -moved listlessly along the lower end of the square, and presently, -glancing up, perceived graven upon the wall the words, “Panton Street.” - -He halted. The name seemed somehow familiar. Then he remembered. The -Angry Cheese, that haunt of wealth and fashion to which those fellows, -Bates and Tresidder, had been going, was in Panton Street. - -Hope revived in Sam. An instant before, the iron had seemed to have -entered his soul, but now he squared his shoulder and quickened his -steps. Good old Bates! Splendid old Tresidder! They were the men to help -him out of this mess. - -He saw clearly now how mistaken can be the callow judgments which we -form when young. As an immature lad at school, he had looked upon Bates -and Tresidder with a jaundiced eye. He had summed them up in his mind, -after the hasty fashion of youth, as ticks and blisters. Aye, and even -when he had encountered them half an hour ago after the lapse of years, -their true nobility had not been made plain to him. It was only now, as -he padded along Panton Street like a leopard on the trail, that he -realised what excellent fellows they were and how fond he was of them. -They were great chaps--corkers, both of them. And when he remembered -that with a boy’s blindness to his sterling qualities he had once given -Bates six of the juiciest with a walking stick, he burned with remorse -and shame. - -It was not difficult to find the Angry Cheese. About this newest of -London’s night-clubs there was nothing coy or reticent. Its doorway -stood open to the street, and cabs were drawing up in a constant stream -and discharging fair women and well-tailored men. Furthermore, to render -identification easy for the very dullest, there stood on the pavement -outside a vast commissionaire, brilliantly attired in the full-dress -uniform of a Czecho-Slovakian field-marshal and wearing on his head a -peaked cap circled by a red band, which bore in large letters of gold -the words “Angry Cheese.” - -“Good evening,” said Sam, curvetting buoyantly up to this spectacular -person. “I want to speak to Mr. Bates.” - -The field-marshal eyed him distantly. The man, one would have said, was -not in sympathy with him. Sam could not imagine why. With the prospect -of a loan in sight, he himself was liking everybody. - -“Misteroo?” - -“Mr. Bates.” - -“Mr. Yates?” - -“Mr. Bates. Mr. Bates. You know Mr. Bates?” said Sam. And such was the -stimulating rhythm of the melody into which the unseen orchestra had -just burst that he very nearly added, “He’s a bear, he’s a bear, he’s a -bear.” - -“Bates?” - -“Or Tresidder.” - -“Make up your mind,” said the field-marshal petulantly. - -At this moment, on the opposite side of the street, there appeared the -figure of Mr. Willoughby Braddock, walking with extraordinary swiftness. -His eyes were staring straight in front of him. He had lost his hat. - -“Bradder!” cried Sam. - -Mr. Braddock looked over his shoulder, waved his hand, smiled a smile of -piercing sweetness and passed rapidly into the night. - -Sam was in a state of indecision similar to that of the dog in the -celebrated substance-and-shadow fable. Should he pursue this -will-o’-the-wisp, or should he stick to the sound Conservative policy of -touching the man on the spot? What would Napoleon have done? - -He decided to remain. - -“Fellow who was at school with me,” he remarked explanatorily. - -“Ho!” said the field-marshal, looking like a stuffed sergeant-major. - -“And now,” said Sam, “can I see Mr. Bates?” - -“You cannot.” - -“But he’s in there.” - -“And you’re out ’ere,” said the field-marshal. - -He moved away to assist a young lady of gay exterior to alight from a -taxicab. And as he did so, someone spoke from the steps. - -“Ah, there you are!” - -Sam looked up, relieved. Dear old Bates was standing in the lighted -doorway. - -Of the four persons who made up the little group collected about the -threshold of the Angry Cheese, three now spoke simultaneously. - -Dear old Bates said, “This is topping! Thought you weren’t coming.” - -The lady said, “Awfully sorry I’m late, old cork.” - -Sam said, “Oh, Bates.” - -He was standing some little space removed from the main body when he -spoke, and the words did not register. The lady passed on into the -building. Bates was preparing to follow her, when Sam spoke again. And -this time nobody within any reasonable radius could have failed to hear -him. - -“Hi, Bates!” - -“Hey!” said the field-marshal, massaging his ear with a look of reproach -and dislike. - -Bates turned, and as he saw Sam, there spread itself over his face the -startled look of one who, wandering gayly along some primrose path, sees -gaping before him a frightful chasm or a fearful serpent or some -menacing lion in the undergrowth. In this crisis, Claude Bates did not -hesitate. With a single backward spring--which, if he could have -remembered it and reproduced it later on the dancing floor, would have -made him the admired of all--he disappeared, leaving Sam staring blankly -after him. - -A large fat hand, placed in no cordial spirit on his shoulder, awoke Sam -from his reverie. The field-marshal was gazing at him with a loathing -which he now made no attempt to conceal. - -“You ’op it,” said the field-marshal. “We don’t want none of your sort -’ere.” - -“But I was at school with him,” stammered Sam. The thing had been so -sudden that even now he could not completely realise that what -practically amounted to his own flesh and blood had thrown him down -cold. - -“At school with ’im too, was you?” said the field-marshal. “The only -school you was ever at was Borstal. You ’op it, and quick. That’s what -you do, before I call a policeman.” - -Inside the night-club, Claude Bates, restoring his nervous system with a -whisky and soda, was relating to his friend Tresidder the tale of his -narrow escape. - -“Absolutely lurking on the steps!” said Bates. - -“Ghastly!” said Tresidder. - - - - -CHAPTER FIVE - -PAINFUL AFFAIR AT A COFFEE-STALL - - -London was very quiet. A stillness had fallen upon it, broken only by -the rattle of an occasional cab and the footsteps of some home-seeking -wayfarer. The lamplight shone on glistening streets, on pensive -policemen, on smoothly prowling cats, and on a young man in a shocking -suit of clothes whose faith in human nature was at zero. - -Sam had now no definite objective. He was merely walking aimlessly with -the idea of killing time. He wandered on, and presently found that he -had passed out of the haunts of fashion into a meaner neighbourhood. The -buildings had become dingier, the aspect of the perambulating cats more -sinister and blackguardly. He had in fact reached the district which, in -spite of the efforts of its inhabitants to get it called Lower -Belgravia, is still known as Pimlico. And it was near the beginning of -Lupus Street that he was roused from his meditations by the sight of a -coffee-stall. - -It brought him up standing. Once more he had suddenly become aware of -that gnawing hunger which had afflicted him outside the oyster -restaurant. Why he should be hungry, seeing that not so many hours ago -he had consumed an ample dinner, he could not have said. A -psychologist, had one been present, would have told him that the pangs -of starvation from which he supposed himself to suffer were purely a -figment of the mind, and that it was merely his subconscious self -reacting to the suggestion of food. Sam, however, had positive inside -information to the contrary; and he halted before the coffee-stall, -staring wolfishly. - -There was not a large attendance of patrons. Three only were present. -One was a man in a sort of uniform who seemed to have been cleaning -streets, the two others had the appearance of being gentlemen of -leisure. They were leaning restfully on the counter, eating hard-boiled -eggs. - -Sam eyed them resentfully. It was just this selfish sort of -epicureanism, he felt, that was the canker which destroyed empires. And -when the man in uniform, wearying of eggs, actually went on to -supplement them with a slice of seedcake, it was as if he were watching -the orgies that preceded the fall of Babylon. With gleaming eyes he drew -a step closer, and was thus enabled to overhear the conversation of -these sybarites. - -Like all patrons of coffee-stalls, they were talking about the Royal -family, and for a brief space it seemed that a perfect harmony was to -prevail. Then the man in uniform committed himself to the statement that -the Duke of York wore a moustache, and the gentlemen of leisure united -to form a solid opposition. - -“’E ain’t got no moustache,” said one. - -“Cert’n’ly ’e ain’t got no moustache,” said the other. - -“Wot,” inquired the first gentleman of leisure, “made you get that -silly idea into your ’ead that ’e’s got a moustache?” - -“’E’s got a smorl clipped moustache,” said the man in uniform stoutly. - -“A smorl clipped moustache?” - -“A smorl clipped moustache.” - -“You say he’s got a smorl clipped moustache?” - -“Ah! A smorl clipped moustache.” - -“Well, then,” said the leader of the opposition, with the air of a -cross-examining counsel who has dexterously trapped a reluctant witness -into a damaging admission, “that’s where you make your ruddy error. -Because ’e ain’t got no smorl clipped moustache.” - -It seemed to Sam that a little adroit diplomacy at this point would be -in his best interests. He had not the pleasure of the duke’s -acquaintance and so was not really entitled to speak as an expert, but -he decided to support the man in uniform. The good graces of a fellow of -his careless opulence were worth seeking. In a soaring moment of -optimism it seemed to him that a hard-boiled egg and a cup of coffee -were the smallest reward a loyal supporter might expect. He advanced -into the light of the naphtha flare and spoke with decision. - -“This gentleman is right,” he said. “The Duke of York has a small -clipped moustache.” - -The interruption appeared to come on the three debaters like a -bombshell. It had on them an effect much the same as an uninvited -opinion from a young and newly joined member would have on a group of -bishops and generals in the smoking-room of the Athenæum Club. For an -instant there was a shocked silence; then the man in uniform spoke. - -“Wot do you want, stickin’ your ugly fat ’ead in?” he demanded coldly. - -Shakespeare, who knew too much ever to be surprised at man’s -ingratitude, would probably have accepted this latest evidence of it -with stoicism. It absolutely stunned Sam. A little peevishness from the -two gentlemen of leisure he had expected, but that his sympathy and -support should be received in this fashion by the man in uniform was -simply disintegrating. It seemed to be his fate to-night to lack appeal -for men in uniform. - -“Yus,” agreed the leader of the opposition, “’oo arsked you to shove -in?” - -“Comin’ stickin’ ’is ’ead in!” sniffed the man in uniform. - -All three members of the supper party eyed him with manifest disfavour. -The proprietor of the stall, a silent hairy man, said nothing: but he, -too, cast a chilly glance of hauteur in Sam’s direction. There was a -sense of strain. - -“I only said----” Sam began. - -“And ’oo arsked you to?” retorted the man in uniform. - -The situation was becoming difficult. At this tense moment, however, -there was a rattling and a grinding of brakes and a taxicab drew up at -the kerb, and out of its interior shot Mr. Willoughby Braddock. - -“Getta cuppa coffee,” observed Mr. Braddock explanatorily to the -universe. - - - - -CHAPTER SIX - -A FRIEND IN NEED - - -Of certain supreme moments in life it is not easy to write. The workaday -teller of tales, whose gifts, if any, lie rather in the direction of -recording events than of analysing emotion, finds himself baffled by -them. To say that Sam Shotter was relieved by this sudden reappearance -of his old friend would obviously be inadequate. Yet it is hard to find -words that will effectually meet the case. Perhaps it is simplest to say -that his feelings at this juncture were to all intents and purposes -those of the garrison besieged by savages in the final reel of a -motion-picture super-super-film when the operator flashes on the screen -the subtitle, “Hurrah! Here come the United States Marines!” - -And blended with this heart-shaking thankfulness, came instantaneously -the thought that he must not let the poor fish get away again. - -“Here, I say!” said Mr. Braddock, becoming aware of a clutching hand -upon his coat sleeve. - -“It’s all right, Bradder, old man,” said Sam. “It’s only me.” - -“Who?” - -“Me.” - -“Who are you?” - -“Sam Shotter.” - -“Sam Shotter?” - -“Sam Shotter.” - -“Sam Shotter who used to be at school with me?” - -“The very same.” - -“Are you Sam Shotter?” - -“I am.” - -“Why, so you are!” said Mr. Braddock, completely convinced. He displayed -the utmost delight at this re-union. “Mosestraornary coincidence,” he -said as he kneaded Sam lovingly about the shoulder. “I was talking to a -fellow in the Strand about you only an hour ago.” - -“Were you, Bradder, old man?” - -“Yes; nasty ugly-looking fellow. I bumped into him, and he turned round -and the very first thing he said was, ‘Do you know Sam Shotter?’ He told -me all sorts of interesting things about you too--all sorts of -interesting things. I’ve forgotten what they were, but you see what I -mean.” - -“I follow you perfectly, Bradder. What’s become of your hat?” - -A look of relieved happiness came in to Willoughby Braddock’s face. - -“Have you got my hat? Where is it?” - -“I haven’t got your hat.” - -“You said you had my hat.” - -“No, I didn’t.” - -“Oh!” said Mr. Braddock, disappointed. “Well, then, come and have a -cuppa coffee.” - -It was with the feelings of a voyager who after much buffeting comes -safely at last to journey’s end that Sam ranged himself alongside the -counter which for so long had been but a promised land seen from some -distant Mount Pisgah. The two gentlemen of leisure had melted away into -the night, but the uniformed man remained, eating seedcake with a touch -of bravado. - -“This gentleman a friend of yours, Sam?” asked Mr. Braddock, having -ordered coffee and eggs. - -“I should say not,” said Sam with aversion. “Why, he thinks the Duke of -York has a small clipped moustache!” - -“No!” said Mr. Braddock, shocked. - -“He does.” - -“Man must be a thorough ass.” - -“Dropped on his head when a baby, probably.” - -“Better have nothing to do with him,” said Mr. Braddock in a -confidential bellow. - -The meal proceeded on its delightful course. Sam had always been fond of -Willoughby Braddock, and the spacious manner in which he now ordered -further hard-boiled eggs showed him that his youthful affection had not -been misplaced. A gentle glow began to steal over him. The coffee was -the kind of which, after a preliminary mouthful, you drink a little more -just to see if it is really as bad as it seemed at first, but it was -warm and comforting. It was not long before the world appeared very good -to Sam. He expanded genially. He listened with courteous attention to -Mr. Braddock’s lengthy description of his speech at the Old Wrykynian -dinner, and even melted sufficiently to extend an olive branch to the -man in uniform. - -“Looks like rain,” he said affably. - -“Who does?” asked Mr. Braddock, puzzled. - -“I was addressing the gentleman behind you,” said Sam. - -Mr. Braddock looked cautiously over his shoulder. - -“But are we speaking to him?” he asked gravely. “I thought----” - -“Oh, yes,” said Sam tolerantly. “I fancy he’s quite a good fellow -really. Wants knowing, that’s all.” - -“What makes you think he looks like rain?” asked Mr. Braddock, -interested. - -The chauffeur of the taxicab now added himself to their little group. He -said that he did not know about Mr. Braddock’s plans, but that he -himself was desirous of getting to bed. Mr. Braddock patted him on the -shoulder with radiant bonhomie. - -“This,” he explained to Sam, “is a most delightful chap. I’ve forgotten -his name.” - -The cabman said his name was Evans. - -“Evans! Of course. I knew it was something beginning with a G. This is -my friend Evans, Sam. I forget where we met, but he’s taking me home.” - -“Where do you live, Bradder?” - -“Where do I live, Evans?” - -“Down at Valley Fields, you told me,” said the cabman. - -“Where are you living, Sam?” - -“Nowhere.” - -“How do you mean--nowhere?” - -“I have no home,” said Sam with simple pathos. - -“I’d like to dig you one,” said the man in uniform. - -“No home?” cried Mr. Braddock, deeply moved. “Nowhere to sleep to-night, -do you mean? I say, look here, you must absolutely come back with me. -Evans, old chap, do you think there would be room for one more in that -cab of yours? Because I particularly want this gentleman to come back -with me. My dear old Sam, I won’t listen to any argument.” - -“You won’t have to.” - -“You can sleep on the sofa in the drawing-room. You ready, Evans, old -man? Splendid! Then let’s go.” - -From Lupus Street, Pimlico, to Burberry Road, Valley Fields, is a -distance of several miles, but to Sam the drive seemed a short one. This -illusion was not due so much to the gripping nature of Mr. Braddock’s -conversation, though that rippled on continuously, as to the fact that, -being a trifle weary after his experiences of the night, he dozed off -shortly after they had crossed the river. He awoke to find that the cab -had come to a standstill outside a wooden gate which led by a short -gravel path to a stucco-covered house. A street lamp, shining feebly, -was strong enough to light up the name San Rafael. Mr. Braddock paid the -cabman and ushered Sam through the gate. He produced a key after a -little searching, and having mounted the steps opened the door. Sam -found himself in a small hall, dimly lighted by a turned-down jet of -gas. - -“Go right in,” said Mr. Braddock. “I’ll be back in a moment. Got to see -a man.” - -“Got to what?” said Sam, surprised. - -“Got to see a man for a minute. Fellow named Evans, who was at school -with me. Most important.” - -And with that curious snipelike abruptness which characterised his -movements to-night, Willoughby Braddock slammed the front door violently -and disappeared. - -Sam’s feelings, as the result of his host’s impulsive departure, were -somewhat mixed. To the credit side of the ledger he could place the fact -that he was safely under the shelter of a roof, which he had not -expected to be an hour ago; but he wished that, before leaving, his -friend had given him a clew as to where was situated this drawing-room -with its sofa whereon he was to spend the remainder of the night. - -However, a brief exploration would no doubt reveal the hidden chamber. -It might even be that room whose door faced him across the hall. - -He was turning the handle with the view of testing this theory, when a -voice behind him, speaking softly but with a startling abruptness, said, -“Hands up!” - -At the foot of the stairs, her wide mouth set in a determined line, her -tow-coloured hair adorned with gleaming curling pins, there was standing -a young woman in a pink dressing gown and slippers. In her right hand, -pointed at his head, she held a revolver. - - - - -CHAPTER SEVEN - -SAM AT SAN RAFAEL - - -It is not given to every girl who makes prophecies to find those -prophecies fulfilled within a few short hours of their utterance; and -the emotions of Claire Lippett, as she confronted Sam in the hall of San -Rafael, were akin to those of one who sees the long shot romp in ahead -of the field or who unexpectedly solves the cross-word puzzle. Only that -evening she had predicted that burglars would invade the house, and here -one was, as large as life. Mixed, therefore, with her disapproval of -this midnight marauder, was a feeling almost of gratitude to him for -being there. Of fear she felt no trace. She presented the pistol with a -firm hand. - -One calls it a pistol for the sake of technical accuracy. To Sam’s -startled senses it appeared like a young cannon, and so deeply did he -feel regarding it that he made it the subject of his opening -remark--which, by all the laws of etiquette, should have been a graceful -apology for and explanation of his intrusion. - -“Steady with the howitzer!” he urged. - -“What say?” said Claire coldly. - -“The lethal weapon--be careful with it. It’s pointing at me.” - -“I know it’s pointing at you.” - -“Oh, well, so long as it only points,” said Sam. - -He felt a good deal reassured by the level firmness of her tone. This -was plainly not one of those neurotic, fluttering females whose fingers -cannot safely be permitted within a foot of a pistol trigger. - -There was a pause. Claire, still keeping the weapon poised, turned the -gas up. Upon which, Sam, rightly feeling that the ball of conversation -should be set rolling by himself, spoke again. - -“You are doubtless surprised,” he said, plagiarising the literary style -of Mr. Todhunter, “to see me here.” - -“No, I’m not.” - -“You’re not?” - -“No. You keep those hands of yours up.” - -Sam sighed. - -“You wouldn’t speak to me in that harsh tone,” he said, “if you knew all -I had been through. It is not too much to say that I have been -persecuted this night.” - -“Well, you shouldn’t come breaking into people’s houses,” said Claire -primly. - -“You are labouring under a natural error,” said Sam. “I did not break -into this charming little house. My presence, Mrs. Braddock, strange as -it may seem, is easily explained.” - -“Who are you calling Mrs. Braddock?” - -“Aren’t you Mrs. Braddock?” - -“No.” - -“You aren’t married to Mr. Braddock?” - -“No, I’m not.” - -Sam was a broad-minded young man. - -“Ah, well,” he said, “in the sight of God, no doubt----” - -“I’m the cook.” - -“Oh,” said Sam, relieved, “that explains it.” - -“Explains what?” - -“Well, you know, it seemed a trifle odd for a moment that you should be -popping about here at this time of night with your hair in curlers and -your little white ankles peeping out from under a dressing gown.” - -“Coo!” said Claire in a modest flutter. She performed a swift adjustment -of the garment’s folds. - -“But if you’re Mr. Braddock’s cook----” - -“Who said I was Mr. Braddock’s cook?” - -“You did.” - -“I didn’t any such thing. I’m Mr. Wrenn’s cook.” - -“Mr. who?” - -“Mr. Wrenn.” - -This was a complication which Sam had not anticipated. - -“Let us get this thing straight,” he said. “Am I to understand that this -house does not belong to Mr. Braddock?” - -“Yes, you are. It belongs to Mr. Wrenn.” - -“But Mr. Braddock had a latchkey.” - -“He’s staying here.” - -“Ah!” - -“What do you mean--ah?” - -“I intended to convey that things are not so bad as I thought they were. -I was afraid for a moment that I had got into the wrong house. But it’s -all right. You see, I met Mr. Braddock a short while ago and he brought -me back here to spend the night.” - -“Oh?” said Claire. “Did he? Ho! Oh, indeed?” - -Sam looked at her anxiously. He did not like her manner. - -“You believe me, don’t you?” - -“No, I don’t.” - -“But surely----” - -“If Mr. Braddock brought you here, where is he?” - -“He went away. He was, I regret to say, quite considerably squiffed. -Immediately after letting me in he dashed off, banging the door behind -him.” - -“Likely!” - -“But listen, my dear little girl----” - -“Less of it!” said Claire austerely. “It’s a bit thick if a girl can’t -catch a burglar without having him start to flirt with her.” - -“You wrong me!” said Sam. “You wrong me! I was only saying----” - -“Well, don’t.” - -“But this is absurd. Good heavens, use your intelligence! If my story -wasn’t true, how could I know anything about Mr. Braddock?” - -“You could easily have asked around. What I say is if you were all right -you wouldn’t be going about in a suit of clothes like that. You look -like a tramp.” - -“Well, I’ve just come off a tramp steamer. You mustn’t go judging people -by appearance. I should have thought they would have taught you that at -school.” - -“Never you mind what they taught me at school.” - -“You have got me all wrong. I’m a millionaire--or rather my uncle is.” - -“Mine’s the Shah of Persia.” - -“And a few weeks ago he sent me over to England, the idea being that I -was to sail on the _Mauretania_. But that would have involved sharing a -suite with a certain Lord Tilbury and the scheme didn’t appeal to me. So -I missed the ship and came over on a cargo boat instead.” - -He paused. He had an uncomfortable feeling that the story sounded thin. -He passed it in a swift review before his mind. Yes, thin. - -And it was quite plain from her expression that the resolute young lady -before him shared this opinion. - -She wrinkled her small nose skeptically, and, having finished wrinkling -it, sniffed. - -“I don’t believe a word of it,” she said. - -“I was afraid you wouldn’t,” said Sam. “True though it is, it has a -phony ring. Really to digest that story, you have to know Lord Tilbury. -If you had the doubtful pleasure of the acquaintance of that king of -bores, you would see that I acted in the only possible way. However, if -it’s too much for you, let it go, and we will approach the matter from a -new angle. The whole trouble seems to be my clothes, so I will make you -a sporting offer. Overlook them for the moment, give me your womanly -trust and allow me to sleep on the drawing-room sofa for the rest of the -night, and not only will blessings reward you but I promise you--right -here and now--that in a day or two I will call at this house and let you -see me in the niftiest rig-out that ever man wore. Imagine it! A -brand-new suit, custom-made, silk serge linings, hand-sewed, scallops on -the pocket flaps--and me inside! Is it a bet?” - -“No, it isn’t.” - -“Think well! When you first see that suit you will say to yourself that -the coat doesn’t seem to sit exactly right. You will be correct. The -coat will not sit exactly right. And why? Because there will be in the -side pocket a large box of the very finest mixed chocolates, a present -for a good girl. Come now! The use of the drawing-room for the few -remaining hours of the night. It is not much to ask.” - -Claire shook her head inflexibly. - -“I’m not going to risk it,” she said. “By rights I ought to march you -out into the street and hand you over to the policeman.” - -“And have him see you in curling pins? No, no!” - -“What’s wrong with my curling pins?” demanded Claire fiercely. - -“Nothing, nothing,” said Sam hastily. “I admire them. It only occurred -to me as a passing thought----” - -“The reason I don’t do it is because I’m tender-hearted and don’t want -to be too hard on a feller.” - -“It is a spirit I appreciate,” said Sam. “And would that there had been -more of it abroad in London this night.” - -“So out you go, and don’t let me hear no more of you. Just buzz off, -that’s all I ask. And be quick about it, because I need my sleep.” - -“I was wrong about those chocolates,” said Sam. “Silly mistake to make. -What will really be in that side pocket will be a lovely diamond -brooch.” - -“And a motor car and a ruby ring and a new dress and a house in the -country, I suppose. Outside!” - -Sam accepted defeat. The manly spirit of the Shotters was considerable, -but it could be broken. - -“Oh, all right, I’ll go. One of these days, when my limousine splashes -you with mud, you will be sorry for this.” - -“And don’t bang the door behind you,” ordered the ruthless girl. - - - - -CHAPTER EIGHT - -SAM AT MON REPOS - - -Standing on the steps and gazing out into the blackness, Sam now -perceived that in the interval between his entrance into San Rafael and -his exit therefrom, the night, in addition to being black, had become -wet. A fine rain had begun to fall, complicating the situation to no -small extent. - -For some minutes he remained where he was, hoping for Mr. Braddock’s -return. But the moments passed and no sound of footsteps, however -distant, broke the stillness; so, after going through a brief -commination service in which the names of Hash Todhunter, Claude Bates -and Willoughby Braddock were prominently featured, he decided to make a -move. And it was as he came down from the steps on to the little strip -of gravel that he saw a board leaning drunkenly towards him a few paces -to his left, and read on that board the words “To Let, Furnished.” - -This opened up an entirely new train of thought. It revealed to him what -he had not previously suspected, that the house outside which he stood -was not one house but two houses. It suggested, moreover, that the one -to which the board alluded was unoccupied, and the effect of this was -extraordinarily stimulating. - -He hurried along the gravel; and rounding the angle of the building, -saw dimly through the darkness a structure attached to its side which -looked like a conservatory. He bolted in; and with a pleasant feeling of -having circumvented Fate, sat down on a wooden shelf intended as a -resting place for potted geraniums. - -But Fate is not so easily outmanœuvred. Fate, for its own inscrutable -reasons, had decided that Sam was to be thoroughly persecuted to-night, -and it took up the attack again without delay. There was a sharp -cracking sound and the wooden shelf collapsed in ruin. Sam had many -excellent qualities, but he did not in the least resemble a potted -geranium, and he went through the woodwork as if it had been paper. And -Fate, which observes no rules of the ring and has no hesitation about -hitting a man when he is down, immediately proceeded to pour water down -his neck through a hole in the broken roof. - -Sam rose painfully. He saw now that he had been mistaken in supposing -that this conservatory was a home from home. He turned up his coat -collar and strode wrathfully out into the darkness. He went round to the -back of the house with the object of ascertaining if there was an -outside coal cellar where a man might achieve dryness, if not positive -comfort. And it was as he stumbled along that he saw the open window. - -It was a sight which in the blackness of the night he might well have -missed; but suffering had sharpened his senses, and he saw it -plainly--an open window only a few feet above the ground. Until this -moment the idea of actually breaking into the house had not occurred to -him; but now, regardless of all the laws which discourage such -behaviour, he put his hand on the sill and scrambled through. The rain, -as if furious at the escape of its prey, came lashing down like a shower -bath. - -Sam moved carefully on. Groping his way, he found himself at the foot of -a flight of stairs. He climbed these cautiously and became aware of -doors to left and right. - -The room to the right was empty, but the other one contained a bed. It -was a bed, however, that had been reduced to such a mere scenario that -he decided to leave it and try his luck downstairs. The board outside -had said “To Let, Furnished,” which suggested the possibility of a -drawing-room sofa. He left the room and started to walk down the stairs. - -At first, as he began the descent, the regions below had been in -complete darkness. But now a little beam of light suddenly pierced the -gloom--a light that might have been that of an electric torch. It was -wavering uncertainly, as if whoever was behind it was in the grip of a -strong emotion of some kind. - -Sam also was in the grip of a strong emotion. He stopped and held his -breath. For the space of some seconds there was silence. Then he -breathed again. - -Perfect control of the breathing apparatus is hard to acquire. Singers -spend years learning it. Sam’s skill in that direction was rudimentary. -It had been his intention to let his present supply of breath gently out -and then, very cautiously, to take another supply gently in. Instead of -which, he gave vent to a sound so loud and mournful that it made his -flesh creep. It was half a snort and half a groan, and it echoed -through the empty house like a voice from the tomb. - -This, he felt, was the end. Further concealment was obviously out of the -question. Dully resentful of the curse that seemed to be on him -to-night, he stood waiting for the inevitable challenge from below. - -No challenge came. Instead, there was a sharp clatter of feet, followed -by a distant scrabbling sound. The man behind the torch had made a rapid -exit through the open window. - -For a moment Sam stood perplexed. Then the reasonable explanation came -to him. It was no caretaker who had stood there, but an intruder with as -little right to be on the premises as he himself. And having reached -this conclusion, he gave no further thought to the matter. He was -feeling extraordinarily sleepy now and speculations as to the identity -of burglars had no interest for him. His mind was occupied entirely by -the question of whether or not there was a sofa in the drawing-room. - -There was, and a reasonably comfortable sofa too. Sam had reached the -stage where he could have slept on spikes, and this sofa seemed to him -as inviting as the last word in beds, with all the latest modern springs -and box mattresses. He lay down and sleep poured over him like a healing -wave. - - - - -CHAPTER NINE - -BREAKFAST FOR ONE - - -It was broad daylight when he woke. Splashes of sunlight were on the -floor, and outside a cart clattered cheerfully. Rising stiffly, he was -aware of a crick in the neck and of that unpleasant sensation of -semi-suffocation which comes to those who spend the night in a disused -room with the windows closed. More even than a bath and a shave, he -desired fresh air. He made his way down the passage to the window by -which he had entered. Outside, glimpses of a garden were visible. He -climbed through and drew a deep breath. - -The rain of the night had left the world sweet and clean. The ragged -grass was all jewelled in the sunshine, and birds were singing in the -trees. Sam stood drinking in the freshness of it all, feeling better -every instant. - -Finally, having performed a few of those bending and stretching -exercises which form such an admirable corrective to the effects of a -disturbed night, he strolled down the garden path, wishing he could -somehow and at no very distant date connect with a little breakfast. - -“For goodness sake!” - -He looked up. Over the fence which divided the garden from the one next -door a familiar face was peering. It was his hostess of last night. -But, whereas then she had been curling-pinned and dressing-gowned, she -was now neatly clad in print and wore on her head a becoming cap. Her -face, moreover, which had been hard and hostile, was softened by a -friendly grin. - -“Good morning,” said Sam. - -“How did you get there?” - -“When you turned me out into the night,” said Sam reproachfully, “I took -refuge next door.” - -“I say, I’m sorry about that,” said the girl remorsefully. “But how was -I to know that you were telling the truth?” She giggled happily. “Mr. -Braddock came back half an hour after you had left. He made such a rare -old row that I came down again----” - -“And shot him, I hope. No? A mistake, I think.” - -“Well, then, he asked where you were. He said your name was Evans.” - -“He was a little confused. My name is Shotter. I warned you that he was -not quite himself. What became of him then?” - -“He went up to bed. I’ve just taken him up a tray, but all he did was to -look at it and moan and shut his eyes again. I say, have you had any -breakfast?” - -“Don’t torture me.” - -“Well, hop over the fence then. I’ll get you some in two ticks.” - -Sam hopped. The sun seemed very bright now, and the birds were singing -with a singular sweetness. - -“Would it also run to a shave and a bath?” he asked, as they walked -toward the house. - -“You’ll find Mr. Wrenn’s shaving things in the bathroom.” - -“Is this heaven?” said Sam. “Shall I also find Mr. Wrenn by any chance?” - -“Oh, no, him and Miss Kay have been gone half an hour.” - -“Excellent! Where is this bathroom?” - -“Up those stairs, first door to the left. When you come down, go into -that room there, and I’ll bring the tray in. It’s the drawing-room, but -the dining-room table isn’t cleared yet.” - -“I shall enjoy seeing your drawing-room, of which I have heard so much.” - -“Do you like eggs?” - -“I do--and plenty of them. Also bacon--a good deal of bacon. Oh, and by -the way----” added Sam, leaning over the banisters. - -“Yes?” - -“----toast--lots and lots of toast.” - -“I’ll get you all you can eat.” - -“You will? Tell me,” said Sam, “it has been puzzling me greatly. How do -you manage to get that dress on over your wings?” - - - - -CHAPTER TEN - -SAM FINDS A PHOTOGRAPH - - -Sam, when he came downstairs some twenty minutes later, was definitely -in what Mr. Hash Todhunter would have described as the pink. The night -had been bad, but joy had certainly come in the morning. The sight of -the breakfast tray on a small table by the window set the seal on his -mood of well-being; and for a long, luxurious space he had eyes for -nothing else. It was only after he had consumed the eggs, the bacon, the -toast, the coffee and the marmalade that he yielded to what is usually -the first impulse of a man who finds himself in a strange room and began -to explore. - -It was some half minute later that Claire Lippett, clearing the -dining-room table, was startled to the extent of dropping a butter dish -by a loud shout or cry that seemed to proceed from the room where she -had left her guest. - -Hurrying thither, she found him behaving in a strange manner. He was -pointing at a photograph on the mantelpiece and gesticulating wildly. - -“Who’s that?” he cried as she entered. He seemed to have difficulty with -his vocal cords. - -“Eh?” - -“Who the devil’s that?” - -“Language!” - -“Who is it? That girl--who is she? What’s her name?” - -“You needn’t shout,” said Claire, annoyed. - -The photograph which had so excited this young man was the large one -that stood in the centre of the mantelpiece. It represented a girl in -hunting costume, standing beside her horse, and it was Claire’s -favourite. A dashing and vigorous duster, with an impressive record of -smashed china and broken glass to her name, she always handled this -particular work of art with a gentle tenderness. - -“That?” she said. “Why, that’s Miss Kay, of course.” - -She came forward and flicked a speck of dust off the glass. - -“Taken at Midways, that was,” she said, “two or three years ago, before -the old colonel lost his money. I was Miss Kay’s maid then--personal -maid,” she added with pride. She regarded the photograph wistfully, for -it stood to her for all the pomps and glories of a vanished yesterday, -for the brave days when there had been horses and hunting costumes and -old red chimneys against a blue sky and rabbits in the park and sunlight -on the lake and all the rest of the things that made up Midways and -prosperity. “I remember the day that photograph was took. It was printed -in the papers, that photograph was.” - -Sam continued to be feverish. - -“Miss Kay? Who’s Miss Kay?” - -“Miss Kay Derrick, Mr. Wrenn’s niece.” - -“The man who lives here, do you mean?” - -“Yes. He gave Miss Kay a home when everything went smash. That’s how I -come to be here. I could have stopped at Midways if I’d of liked,” she -said. “The new people who took the place would have kept me on if I’d of -wanted. But I said, ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m going with Miss Kay,’ I said. -‘I’m not going to desert her in her mis-for-chewn,’ I said.” - -Sam started violently. - -“You don’t mean--you can’t mean--you don’t mean she lives here?” - -“Of course she does.” - -“Not actually lives here--not in this very house?” - -“Certainly.” - -“My gosh!” - -Sam quivered from head to foot. A stupendous idea had come to him. - -“My gosh!” he cried again, with bulging eyes. Then, with no more -words--for it was a time not for words but for action--he bounded from -the room. - -To leap out of the front door and clatter down the steps to the board -which stood against the fence was with Sam the work of a moment. Beneath -the large letters of the To Let, Furnished, he now perceived other -smaller letters informing all who might be interested that applications -for the tenancy of that desirable semi-detached residence, Mon Repos, -should be made to Messrs. Matters & Cornelius, House Agents, of Ogilvy -Street, Valley Fields, S. E. He galloped up the steps again and beat -wildly upon the door. - -“Now what?” inquired Claire. - -“Where is Ogilvy Street?” - -“Up the road, first turning to the left.” - -“Thanks.” - -“You’re welcome.” - -Out on the gravel, he paused, pondered and returned. - -“Back again?” said Claire. - -“Did you say left or right?” - -“Left.” - -“Thanks.” - -“Don’t mention it,” said Claire. - -This time Sam performed the descent of the steps in a single leap. But -reaching the gate, he was struck by a thought. - -“Fond of exercise, aren’t you?” said Claire patiently. - -“Suddenly occurred to me,” explained Sam, “that I’d got no money.” - -“What do you want me to do about it?” - -“These house-agent people would expect a bit of money down in advance, -wouldn’t they?” - -“Sounds possible. Are you going to take a house?” - -“I’m going to take Mon Repos,” said Sam. “And I must have money. Where’s -Mr. Braddock?” - -“In bed.” - -“Where’s his room?” - -“Top floor back.” - -“Thanks.” - -“Dee-lighted,” said Claire. - -Her statement that the guest of the house was in bed proved accurate. -Sam, entering the apartment indicated, found his old school friend lying -on his back with open mouth and matted hair. He was snoring -rhythmically. On a chair at his side stood a tray containing a teapot, -toast and a cold poached egg of such raffish and leering aspect that -Sam, moving swiftly to the dressing table, averted his eyes as he -passed. - -The dressing table presented an altogether more pleasing picture. Heaped -beside Mr. Braddock’s collar box and hair-brushes was a small mountain -of notes and silver--a fascinating spectacle with the morning sunshine -playing on them. With twitching fingers, Sam scooped them up; and -finding pencil and paper, paused for a moment, seeking for words. - -It is foolish to attempt to improve on the style of a master. Hash -Todhunter had shown himself in a class of his own at this kind of -literary composition, and Sam was content to take him as a model. He -wrote: - - “DEAR BRADDER: You will doubtless be surprised to learn that I have - borrowed your money. I will return it in God’s good time. - Meanwhile, as Sir Philip Sidney said to the wounded soldier, my - need is greater than yours. - - “Trusting this finds you in the pink, - - “Yrs. Obedtly, - - “S. SHOTTER.” - -Then, having propped the note against the collar box, he left the room. - -A sense of something omitted, some little kindly act forgotten, arrested -him at the head of the stairs. He returned; and taking the poached egg, -placed it gently on the pillow beside his friend’s head. This done, he -went downstairs again, and so out on the broad trail that led to the -premises of Messrs. Matters & Cornelius, House Agents, of Ogilvy -Street. - - - - -CHAPTER ELEVEN - -SAM BECOMES A HOUSEHOLDER - - -What Mr. Matters would have thought of Sam as he charged breezily into -the office a few minutes later we shall never know, for Mr. Matters died -in the year 1910. Mr. Cornelius thought him perfectly foul. After one -swift, appraising stare through his gold-rimmed spectacles, he went so -far as to share this opinion with his visitor. - -“I never give to beggars,” he said. He was a venerable old man with a -white beard and bushy eyebrows, and he spoke with something of the -intonation of a druid priest chanting at the altar previous to sticking -the knife into the human sacrifice. “I do not believe in indiscriminate -charity.” - -“I will fill in your confession book some other time,” said Sam. “For -the moment, let us speak of houses. I want to take Mon Repos in Burberry -Road.” - -The druid was about to recite that ancient rune which consists of the -solemn invocation to a policeman, when he observed with considerable -surprise that his young visitor was spraying currency in great -quantities over the table. He gulped. It was unusual for clients at his -office to conduct business transactions in a manner more suitable to the -Bagdad of the _Arabian Nights_ than a respectable modern suburb. He -could hardly have been more surprised if camels laden with jewels and -spices had paraded down Ogilvy Street. - -“What is all this?” he asked, blinking. - -“Money,” said Sam. - -“Where did you get it?” - -He eyed Sam askance. And Sam, who, as the heady result of a bath, shave, -breakfast and the possession of cash, had once more forgotten that there -was anything noticeable about his appearance, gathered that here was -another of the long line of critics who had failed to recognise his true -worth at first sight. - -“Do not judge me by the outer crust,” he said. “I am shabby because I -have been through much. When I stepped aboard the boat at New York I was -as natty a looking young fellow as you could wish to see. People nudged -one another as I passed along the pier and said, ‘Who is he?’” - -“You come from America?” - -“From America.” - -“Ah!” said Mr. Cornelius, as if that explained everything. - -“My uncle,” said Sam, sensing the change in the atmosphere and pursuing -his advantage, “is Mr. John B. Pynsent, the well-to-do millionaire of -whom you have doubtless heard.... You haven’t? One of our greatest -captains of industry. He made a vast fortune in fur.” - -“In fur? Really?” - -“Got the concession for providing the snakes at the Bronx Zoo with -earmuffs, and from that moment never looked back.” - -“You surprise me,” said Mr. Cornelius. “Most interesting.” - -“A romance of commerce,” agreed Sam. “And now, returning to this matter -of the house----” - -“Ah, yes,” said Mr. Cornelius. His voice, as he eyed the money on the -table, was soft and gentle. He still looked like a druid priest, but a -druid priest on his afternoon off. “For how long a period did you wish -to rent Mon Repos, Mr.--er----” - -“Shotter is the name.... Indefinitely.” - -“Shall we say three months rent in advance?” - -“Let us say just those very words.” - -“And as to references----” - -Sam was on the point of giving Mr. Wrenn’s name, until he recollected -that he had not yet met that gentleman. Using his shaving brush and -razor and eating food from his larder seemed to bring them very close -together. He reflected. - -“Lord Tilbury,” he said. “That’s the baby.” - -“Lord Tilbury, of the Mammoth Publishing Company?” said Mr. Cornelius, -plainly awed. “Do you know him?” - -“Know him? We’re more like brothers than anything. There’s precious -little Lord Tilbury ever does without consulting me. It might be a good -idea to call him up on the phone now. I ought to let him know that I’ve -arrived.” - -Mr. Cornelius turned to the telephone, succeeded after an interval in -getting the number, and after speaking with various unseen underlings, -tottered reverently as he found himself talking to the great man in -person. He handed the instrument to Sam. - -“His Lordship would like to speak to you, Mr. Shotter.” - -“I knew it, I knew it,” said Sam. “Hello! Lord Tilbury? This is Sam. How -are you? I’ve just arrived. I came over in a tramp steamer, and I’ve -been having all sorts of adventures. Give you a good laugh. I’m down at -Valley Fields at the moment, taking a house. I’ve given your name as a -reference. You don’t mind? Splendid! Lunch? Delighted. I’ll be along as -soon as I can. Got to get a new suit first. I slept in my clothes last -night.... Well, good-bye. It’s all right about the references,” he said, -turning to Mr. Cornelius. “Carry on.” - -“I will draw up the lease immediately, Mr. Shotter. If you will tell me -where I am to send it----” - -“Send it?” said Sam surprised. “Why, to Mon Repos, of course.” - -“But----” - -“Can’t I move in at once?” - -“I suppose so, if you wish it. But I fancy the house is hardly ready for -immediate tenancy. You will need linen.” - -“That’s all right. A couple of hours shopping will fix that.” - -Mr. Cornelius smiled indulgently. He was thoroughly pro-Sam by now. - -“True American hustle,” he observed, waggling his white beard. “Well, I -see no objection, if you make a point of it. I will find the key for -you. Tell me, Mr. Shotter,” he asked as he rummaged about in drawers, -“what has caused this great desire on your part to settle in Valley -Fields? Of course, as a patriotic inhabitant, I ought not to be -surprised. I have lived in Valley Fields all my life, and would not live -anywhere else if you offered me a million pounds.” - -“I won’t.” - -“I was born in Valley Fields, Mr. Shotter, and I love the place, and I -am not ashamed to say so. - -“‘Breathes there the man with soul so dead,’” inquired Mr. Cornelius, -“‘Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose -heart hath ne’er within him burned as home his footsteps he hath turn’d -from wandering on a foreign strand?’” - -“Ah!” said Sam. “That’s what we’d all like to know, wouldn’t we?” - -“‘If such there breathe,’” proceeded Mr. Cornelius, “‘go mark him well! -For him no minstrel raptures swell. High though his titles, proud his -name, boundless his wealth as wish can claim, despite those titles, -power, and pelf, the wretch, concentred all in self----’” - -“I have a luncheon engagement at 1:30,” said Sam. - -“‘----Living, shall forfeit fair renown, and, doubly dying, shall go -down to the vile dust from whence he sprung, unwept, unhonour’d and -unsung.’ Those words, Mr. Shotter----” - -“A little thing of your own?” - -“Those words, Mr. Shotter, will appear on the title page of the history -of Valley Fields, which I am compiling--a history dealing not only with -its historical associations, which are numerous, but also with those -aspects of its life which my occupation as house agent has given me -peculiar opportunities of examining. I get some queer clients, Mr. -Shotter.” - -Sam was on the point of saying that the clients got a queer house agent, -thus making the thing symmetrical, but he refrained. - -“It may interest you to know that a very well-known criminal, a man who -might be described as a second Charles Peace, once resided in the very -house which you are renting.” - -“I shall raise the tone.” - -“Like Charles Peace, he was a most respectable man to all outward -appearances. His name was Finglass. Nobody seems to have had any -suspicion of his real character until the police, acting on information -received, endeavoured to arrest him for the perpetration of a great bank -robbery.” - -“Catch him?” said Sam, only faintly interested. - -“No; he escaped and fled the country. But I was asking you what made you -settle on Valley Fields as a place of residence. You would seem to have -made up your mind very quickly.” - -“Well, the fact is, I happened to catch sight of my next-door -neighbours, and it struck me that they would be pleasant people to live -near.” - -Mr. Cornelius nodded. - -“Mr. Wrenn is greatly respected by all who know him.” - -“I liked his razor,” said Sam. - -“If you are going to Tilbury House it is possible that you may meet him. -He is the editor of Pyke’s _Home Companion_.” - -“Is that so?” said Sam. “Pyke’s _Home Companion_, eh?” - -“I take it in regularly.” - -“And Mr. Wrenn’s niece? A charming girl, I thought.” - -“I scarcely know her,” said Mr. Cornelius indifferently. “Young women do -not interest me.” - -The proverb about casting pearls before swine occurred to Sam. - -“I must be going,” he said coldly. “Speed up that lease, will you. And -if anyone else blows in and wants to take the house, bat them over the -head with the office ruler.” - -“Mr. Wrenn and I frequently play a game of chess together,” said Mr. -Cornelius. - -Sam was not interested in his senile diversions. - -“Good morning,” he said stiffly, and passed out into Ogilvy Street. - - - - -CHAPTER TWELVE - -SAM IS MUCH TOO SUDDEN - - -§ 1 - - -The clocks of London were striking twelve when Sam, entering the Strand, -turned to the left and made his way toward Fleet Street to keep his -tryst with Lord Tilbury at the offices of the Mammoth Publishing -Company. - -In the interval which had elapsed since his parting from Mr. Cornelius a -striking change had taken place in his appearance, for he had paid a -visit to that fascinating shop near Covent Garden which displays on its -door the legend, “Cohen Bros., Ready-Made Clothiers,” and is the Mecca -of all who prefer to pluck their garments ripe off the bough instead of -waiting for them to grow. The kindly brethren had fitted him out with a -tweed suit of bold pattern, a shirt of quality, underclothing, socks, a -collar, sock suspenders, a handkerchief, a tie pin and a hat with the -same swift and unemotional efficiency with which, had he desired it, -they would have provided the full costume of an Arctic explorer, a duke -about to visit Buckingham Palace, or a big-game hunter bound for Eastern -Africa. Nor had they failed him in the matter of new shoes and a -wanghee. It was, in short, an edition de luxe of S. Pynsent Shotter, -richly bound and profusely illustrated, that now presented itself to the -notice of the public. - -The tonic of new clothes is recognised by all students of human nature. -Sam walked with a springy jauntiness, and his gay bearing, combined with -the brightness of his exterior, drew many eyes upon him. - -Two of these eyes belonged to a lean and stringy man of mournful -countenance who was moving in the opposite direction, away from London’s -newspaper land. For a moment they rested upon Sam in a stare that had -something of dislike in it, as if their owner resented the intrusion -upon his notice of so much cheerfulness. Then they suddenly widened into -a stare of horror, and the man stopped, spellbound. A hurrying -pedestrian, bumping into him from behind, propelled him forward, and -Sam, coming up at four miles an hour, bumped into him in front. The -result of the collision was a complicated embrace, from which Sam was -extricating himself with apologies when he perceived that this person -with whom he had become entangled was no stranger, but an old friend. - -“Hash!” he cried. - -There was nothing in Mr. Todhunter’s aspect to indicate pleasure at the -encounter. He breathed heavily and spoke no word. - -“Hash, you old devil!” said Sam joyfully. - -Mr. Todhunter licked his lips uncomfortably. He cast a swift glance over -his shoulder, as if debating the practicability of a dive into the -traffic. He endeavoured, without success, to loosen the grip of Sam’s -hand on his coat sleeve. - -“What are you wriggling for?” asked Sam, becoming aware of this. - -“I’m not wriggling,” said Hash. He spoke huskily and in a tone that -seemed timidly ingratiating. If the voice of Mr. Cornelius had resembled -a druid priest’s, Clarence Todhunter’s might have been likened to that -of the victim on the altar. “I’m not wriggling, Sam. What would I want -to wriggle for?” - -“Where did you spring from, Hash?” - -Mr. Todhunter coughed. - -“I was just coming from leaving a note for you, Sam, at that place -Tilbury House, where you told me you’d be.” - -“You’re a great letter writer, aren’t you?” - -The allusion was not lost upon Mr. Todhunter. He gulped and his -breathing became almost stertorous. - -“I want to explain about that, Sam,” he said. “Explain, if I may use the -term, fully. Sam,” said Mr. Todhunter thickly, “what I say and what I -always have said is, when there’s been a little misunderstanding between -pals--pals, if I may use the expression, what have stood together side -by side through thick and through thin--pals what have shared and shared -alike----” He broke off. He was not a man of acute sensibility, but he -could see that the phrase, in the circumstances, was an unhappy one. -“What I say is, Sam, when it’s like that--well, there’s nothing like -letting bygones be bygones and, so to speak, burying the dead past. As a -man of the world, you bein’ one and me bein’ another----” - -“I take it,” said Sam, “from a certain something in your manner, that -that moth-eaten whippet of yours did not win his race.” - -“Sam,” said Mr. Todhunter, “I will not conceal it from you. I will be -frank, open and above board. That whippet did not win.” - -“Your money then--and mine--is now going to support some bookie in the -style to which he has been accustomed?” - -“It’s gorn, Sam,” admitted Mr. Todhunter in a deathbed voice. “Yes, Sam, -it’s gorn.” - -“Then come and have a drink,” said Sam cordially. - -“A drink?” - -“Or two.” - -He led the way to a hostelry that lurked coyly among shops and office -buildings. Hash followed, marvelling. The first stunned horror had -passed, and his mind, such as it was, was wrestling with the insoluble -problem of why Sam, with the facts of the whippet disaster plainly -before him, was so astoundingly amiable. - -The hour being early even for a perpetually thirsty community like that -of Fleet Street, the saloon bar into which they made their way was free -from the crowds which would have interfered with a quiet chat between -friends. Two men who looked like printers were drinking beer in a -corner, while at the counter a haughty barmaid was mixing a cocktail for -a solitary reveller in a velours hat. This individual had just made a -remark about the weather in a rich and attractive voice, and his -intonation was so unmistakably American that Sam glanced at him as he -passed; and, glancing, half stopped, arrested by something strangely -familiar about the man’s face. - -It was not a face which anyone would be likely to forget if they had -seen it often; and the fact that it brought no memories back to him -inclined Sam to think that he could never have met this rather -striking-looking person, but must have seen him somewhere on the street -or in a hotel lobby. He was a handsome, open-faced man of middle-age. - -“I’ve seen that fellow before somewhere,” he said, as he sat with Hash -at a table by the window. - -“’Ave you?” said Hash, and there was such a manifest lack of interest in -his tone that Sam, surprised at his curtness, awoke to the realisation -that he had not yet ordered refreshment. He repaired the omission and -Hash’s drawn face relaxed. - -“Hash,” said Sam, “I owe you a lot.” - -“Me?” said Hash blankly. - -“Yes. You remember that photograph I showed you?” - -“The girl--Nimrod?” - -“Yes. Hash, I’ve found her, and purely owing to you. If you hadn’t taken -that money it would never have happened.” - -Mr. Todhunter, though he was far from understanding, endeavoured to -assume a simper of modest altruism. He listened attentively while Sam -related the events of the night. - -“And I’ve taken the house next door,” concluded Sam, “and I move in -to-day. So, if you want a shore job, the post of cook in the Shotter -household is open. How about it?” - -A sort of spasm passed across Hash’s wooden features. - -“You want me to come and cook?” - -“I’ve got to get a cook somewhere. Can you leave the ship?” - -“Can I leave the ship? Mister, you watch and see how quick I can leave -that ruddy ocean-going steam kettle! I’ve been wanting a shore job ever -since I was cloth-head enough to go to sea.” - -“You surprise me,” said Sam. “I have always looked on you as one of -those tough old salts who can’t be happy away from deep waters. I -thought you sang chanteys in your sleep. Well, that’s splendid. You had -better go straight down to the house and start getting things fixed up. -Here’s the key. Write the address down--Mon Repos, Burberry Road, Valley -Fields.” - -A sharp crash rang through the room. The man at the bar, who had -finished his cocktail and was drinking a whisky and soda, had dropped -his glass. - -“’Ere!” exclaimed the barmaid, startled, a large hand on the left side -of her silken bosom. - -The man paid no attention to her cry. He was staring with marked -agitation at Sam and his companion. - -“How do I get there?” asked Hash. - -“By train or bus--there’s any number of ways.” - -“And I can go straight into the house?” - -“Yes; I’ve taken it from this morning.” - -Sam hurried out. Hash, pausing to write down the address, became aware -that he was being spoken to. - -“Say, pardon me,” said the fine-looking man who was clutching at his -sleeve. “Might I have a word with you, brother?” - -“Well?” said Hash suspiciously. The last time an American had addressed -him as brother it had cost him eleven dollars and seventy-five cents. - -“Did I understand your pal who’s gone out to say that he had rented a -house named Mon Repos down in Valley Fields?” - -“Yes, you did. What of it?” - -The man did not reply. Consternation was writ upon his face, and he -passed a hand feebly across his broad forehead. The silence was broken -by the cold voice of the barmaid. - -“That’ll be threepence I’ll kindly ask you for, for that glass,” said -the barmaid. “And if,” she added with asperity, “you ’ad to pay for the -shock you give me, it ’ud cost you a tenner.” - -“Girlie,” replied the man sadly, watching Hash as he shambled through -the doorway, “you aren’t the only one that’s had a shock.” - - -§ 2 - -While Sam was walking down Fleet Street on his way to Tilbury House, -thrilled with the joy of existence and swishing the air jovially with -his newly purchased wanghee, in Tilbury House itself the proprietor of -the Mammoth Publishing Company was pacing the floor of his private -office, his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, his eyes staring -bleakly before him. - -Lord Tilbury was a short, stout, commanding-looking man, and practically -everything he did had in it something of the Napoleonic quality. His -demeanour now suggested Napoleon in captivity, striding the deck of the -_Bellerophon_ with vultures gnawing at his breast. - -So striking was his attitude that his sister, Mrs. Frances Hammond, who -had called to see him, as was her habit when business took her into the -neighbourhood of Tilbury House, paused aghast in the doorway, while the -obsequious boy in buttons who was ushering her in frankly lost his nerve -and bolted. - -“Good gracious, Georgie!” she cried. “What’s the matter?” - -His Lordship came to a standstill and something faintly resembling -relief appeared in his square-cut face. Ever since the days when he had -been plain George Pyke, starting in business with a small capital and a -large ambition, his sister Frances had always been a rock of support. It -might be that her advice would help him to cope with the problem which -was vexing him now. - -“Sit down, Francie,” he said. “Thank goodness you’ve come. Just the -person I want to talk to.” - -“What’s wrong?” - -“I’m telling you. You remember that when I was in America I met a man -named Pynsent?” - -“Yes.” - -“This man Pynsent was the owner of an island off the coast of Maine.” - -“Yes, I know. And you----” - -“An island,” continued Lord Tilbury, “densely covered with trees. He -used it merely as a place of retirement, for the purpose of shooting and -fishing; but when he invited me there for a week-end I saw its -commercial possibilities in an instant.” - -“Yes, you told me. You----” - -“I said to myself,” proceeded Lord Tilbury, one of whose less engaging -peculiarities it was that he never permitted the fact that his audience -was familiar with a story to keep him from telling it again, “I said to -myself, ‘This island, properly developed, could supply all the paper the -Mammoth needs and save me thousands a year!’ It was my intention to buy -the place and start paper mills.” - -“Yes, and----” - -“Paper mills,” said Lord Tilbury firmly. “I made an offer to Pynsent. He -shilly-shallied. I increased my offer. Still he would give me no -definite answer. Sometimes he seemed willing to sell, and then he would -change his mind. And then, when I was compelled to leave and return to -England, an idea struck me. He had been talking about his nephew and how -he was anxious for him to settle down and do something----” - -“So you offered to take him over here and employ him in the Mammoth,” -said Mrs. Hammond with a touch of impatience. She loved and revered her -brother, but she could not conceal it from herself that he sometimes -tended to be prolix. “You thought it would put him under an obligation.” - -“Exactly. I imagined I was being shrewd. I supposed that I was -introducing into the affair just that little human touch which sometimes -makes all the difference. Well, it will be a bitter warning to me never -again to be too clever. Half the business deals in this world are ruined -by one side or the other trying to be too clever.” - -“But, George, what has happened? What is wrong?” - -Lord Tilbury resumed his patrol of the carpet. - -“I’m telling you. It was all arranged that he should sail back with me -on the _Mauretania_, but when the vessel left he was nowhere to be -found. And then, about the second day out, I received a wireless message -saying, ‘Sorry not to be with you. Coming _Araminta_. Love to all.’ I -could not make head or tail of it.” - -“No,” said Mrs. Hammond thoughtfully; “it is very puzzling. I think it -may possibly have meant----” - -“I know what it meant--now. The solution,” said Lord Tilbury bitterly, -“was vouchsafed to me only an hour ago by the boy himself.” - -“Has he arrived then?” - -“Yes, he has arrived. And he travelled on a tramp steamer.” - -“A tramp steamer! But why?” - -“Why? Why? How should I know why? Last night, he informed me, he slept -in his clothes.” - -“Slept in his clothes? Why?” - -“How should I know why? Who am I to analyse the motives of a boy who -appears to be a perfect imbecile?” - -“But have you seen him?” - -“No. He rang up on the telephone from the office of a house agent in -Valley Fields. He has taken a house there and wished to give my name as -a reference.” - -“Valley Fields? Why Valley Fields?” - -“Don’t keep on saying why,” cried Lord Tilbury tempestuously. “Haven’t I -told you a dozen times that I don’t know why--that I haven’t the least -idea why?” - -“He does seem an eccentric boy.” - -“Eccentric? I feel as if I had allowed myself to be saddled with the -guardianship of a dancing dervish. And when I think that if this young -idiot gets into any sort of trouble while he is under my charge, Pynsent -is sure to hold me responsible. I could kick myself for ever having been -fool enough to bring him over here.” - -“You mustn’t blame yourself, Georgie.” - -“It isn’t a question of blaming myself. It’s a question of Pynsent -blaming me and getting annoyed and breaking off the deal about the -island.” - -And Lord Tilbury, having removed his thumbs from the armholes of his -waistcoat in order the more freely to fling them heavenwards, uttered a -complicated sound which might be rendered phonetically by the word -“Cor!” tenser and more dignified than the “Coo!” of the lower-class -Londoner, but expressing much the same meaning. - -In the hushed silence which followed, the buzzer on the desk sounded. - -“Yes? Eh? Oh, send him up.” Lord Tilbury laid down the instrument and -turned to his sister grimly. “Shotter is downstairs,” he said. “Now you -will be able to see him for yourself.” - -Mrs. Hammond’s first impression when she saw Sam for herself was that -she had been abruptly confronted with something in between a cyclone and -a large Newfoundland puppy dressed in bright tweeds. Sam’s mood of -elation had grown steadily all the way down Fleet Street, and he burst -into the presence of his future employer as if he had just been let off -a chain. - -“Well, how are you?” he cried, seizing Lord Tilbury’s hand in a grip -that drew from him a sharp yelp of protest. - -Then, perceiving for the first time the presence of a fair stranger, he -moderated his exuberance somewhat and stared politely. - -“My sister, Mrs. Hammond,” said Lord Tilbury, straightening his fingers. - -Sam bowed. Mrs. Hammond bowed. - -“Perhaps I had better leave you,” said Mrs. Hammond. “You will want to -talk.” - -“Oh, don’t go,” said Sam hospitably. - -“I have business in Lombard Street,” said Mrs. Hammond, discouraging -with a cold look what seemed to her, rightly or wrongly, a disposition -on the part of this young man to do the honours and behave generally as -if he were trying to suggest that Tilbury House was his personal -property but that any relative of Lord Tilbury was welcome there. “I -have to visit my bank.” - -“I shall have to visit mine pretty soon,” said Sam, “or the wolf will be -scratching at the door.” - -“If you are short of funds----” began Lord Tilbury. - -“Oh, I’m all right for the present, thanks. I pinched close on fifty -pounds from a man this morning.” - -“You did what?” said Lord Tilbury blankly. - -“Pinched fifty pounds. Surprising he should have had so much on him. But -lucky--for me.” - -“Did he make any objection to your remarkable behaviour?” - -“He was asleep at the time, and I didn’t wake him. I just left a poached -egg on his pillow and came away.” - -Lord Tilbury swallowed convulsively and his eye sought that of Mrs. -Hammond in a tortured glare. - -“A poached egg?” he whispered. - -“So that he would find it there when he woke,” explained Sam. - -Mrs. Hammond had abandoned her intention of withdrawing and leaving the -two men together for a cosy chat. Georgie, it seemed to her from his -expression, needed a woman’s loving support. Sam appeared to have -affected him like some unpleasant drug, causing starting of the eyes and -twitching of the muscles. - -“It is a pity you missed the _Mauretania_, Mr. Shotter,” she said. “My -brother had hoped that you would travel with him so that you could have -a good talk about what you were to do when you joined his staff.” - -“Great pity,” said Sam, omitting to point out that it was for that very -reason that he had allowed the _Mauretania_ to depart without him. -“However, it’s all right. I have found my niche.” - -“You have done what?” - -“I have selected my life work.” He pulled out of his pocket a crumpled -paper. “I would like to attach myself to Pyke’s _Home Companion_. I -bought a copy on my way here, and it is the goods. You aren’t reading -the serial by any chance, are you--_Hearts Aflame_, by Cordelia Blair? A -winner. I only had time to glance at the current instalment, but it was -enough to make me decide to dig up the back numbers at the earliest -possible moment. In case you haven’t read it, it is Leslie Mordyke’s -wedding day, and a veiled woman with a foreign accent has just risen in -the body of the church and forbidden the banns. And,” said Sam warmly, -“I don’t blame her. It appears that years ago----” - -Lord Tilbury was making motions of distress, and Mrs. Hammond bent -solicitously, like one at a sick bed, to catch his fevered whisper. - -“My brother,” she announced, “wishes----” - -“----was hoping,” corrected Lord Tilbury. - -“----was hoping,” said Mrs. Hammond, accepting the emendation, “that -you would join the staff of the _Daily Record_ so that you might be -under his personal eye.” - -Sam caught Lord Tilbury’s personal eye, decided that he had no wish to -be under it and shook his head. - -“The _Home Companion_,” said Lord Tilbury, coming to life, “is a very -minor unit of my group of papers.” - -“Though it has a large circulation,” said Mrs. Hammond loyally. - -“A very large circulation, of course,” said Lord Tilbury; “but it offers -little scope for a young man in your position, anxious to start on a -journalistic career. It is not--how shall I put it?--it is not a vital -paper, not a paper that really matters.” - -“In comparison with my brother’s other papers,” said Mrs. Hammond. - -“In comparison with my other papers, of course.” - -“I think you are wrong,” said Sam. “I cannot imagine a nobler life work -for any man than to help produce Pyke’s _Home Companion_. Talk about -spreading sweetness and light, why, Pyke’s _Home Companion_ is the paper -that wrote the words and music. Listen to this; ‘A. M. B. (Brixton). You -ask me for a simple and inexpensive method of curing corns. Get an -ordinary swede, or turnip, cut and dig out a hole in the top, fill the -hole with common salt and allow to stand till dissolved. Soften the corn -morning and night with this liquid.’” - -“Starting on the reportorial staff of the _Daily Record_,” said Lord -Tilbury, “you would be in a position----” - -“Just try to realise what that means,” proceeded Sam. “What it amounts -to is that the writer of that paragraph has with a stroke of the pen -made the world a better place. He has brightened a home. Possibly he has -averted serious trouble between man and wife. A. M. B. gets the ordinary -swede, digs out the top, pushes in the salt, and a week later she has -ceased to bully her husband and beat the baby and is a ray of sunshine -about the house--and all through Pyke’s _Home Companion_.” - -“What my brother means----” said Mrs. Hammond. - -“Similarly,” said Sam, “with G. D. H. (Tulse Hill), who wants to know -how to improve the flavour of prunes. You or I would say that the -flavour of prunes was past praying for, that the only thing to do when -cornered by a prune was to set your teeth and get it over with. Not so -Pyke’s----” - -“He means----” - -“----_Home Companion._ ‘A little vinegar added to stewed prunes,’ says -the writer, ‘greatly improves the flavour. And although it may seem -strange, it causes less sugar to be used.’ What happens? What is the -result? G. D. H.’s husband comes back tired and hungry after a day’s -work. ‘Prunes for dinner again, I suppose?’ he says moodily. ‘Yes, -dear,’ replies G. D. H., ‘but of a greatly improved flavour.’ Well, he -doesn’t believe her, of course. He sits down sullenly. Then, as he -deposits the first stone on his plate, a delighted smile comes into his -face. ‘By Jove!’ he cries. ‘The flavour is greatly improved. They still -taste like brown paper soaked in machine oil, but a much superior grade -of brown paper. How did you manage it?’ ‘It was not I, dearest,’ says G. -D. H., ‘but Pyke’s _Home Companion_. Acting on their advice, I added a -little vinegar, with the result that not only is the flavour greatly -improved but, strange though it may seem, I used less sugar.’ ‘Heaven -bless Pyke’s _Home Companion_!’ cries the husband. With your permission -then,” said Sam, “I will go straight to Mr. Wrenn and inform him that I -have come to fight the good fight under his banner. ‘Mr. Wrenn,’ I shall -say----” - -Lord Tilbury was perplexed. - -“Do you know Wrenn? How do you know Wrenn?” - -“I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting him, but we are next-door -neighbours. I have taken the house adjoining his. Mon Repos, Burberry -Road, is the address. You can see for yourself how convenient this will -be. Not only shall we toil all day in the office to make Pyke’s _Home -Companion_ more and more of a force among the _intelligentsia_ of Great -Britain but in the evenings, as we till our radishes, I shall look over -the fence and say, ‘Wrenn,’ and Wrenn will say, ‘Yes, Shotter?’ And I -shall say, ‘Wrenn, how would it be to run a series on the eradication of -pimples in canaries?’ ‘Shotter,’ he will reply, dropping his spade in -his enthusiasm, ‘this is genius. ’Twas a lucky day, boy, for the old -_Home Companion_ when you came to us.’ But I am wasting time. I should -be about my business. Good-bye, Mrs. Hammond. Good-bye, Lord Tilbury. -Don’t trouble to come with me. I will find my way.” - -He left the room with the purposeful step of the man of affairs, and -Lord Tilbury uttered a sound which was almost a groan. - -“Insane!” he ejaculated. “Perfectly insane!” - -Mrs. Hammond, womanlike, was not satisfied with simple explanation. - -“There is something behind this, George!” - -“And I can’t do a thing,” moaned His Lordship, chafing, as your strong -man will, against the bonds of fate. “I simply must humour this boy, or -the first thing I know he will be running off on some idiotic prank and -Pynsent will be sending me cables asking why he has left me.” - -“There is something behind this,” repeated Mrs. Hammond weightily. “It -stands to reason. Even a boy like this young Shotter would not take a -house next door to Mr. Wrenn the moment he landed unless he had some -motive. George, there is a girl at the bottom of this.” - -Lord Tilbury underwent a sort of minor convulsion. His eyes bulged and -he grasped the arms of his chair. - -“Good God, Francie! Don’t say that! Pynsent took me aside before I left -and warned me most emphatically to be careful how I allowed this boy to -come in contact with--er--members of the opposite sex.” - -“Girls,” said Mrs. Hammond. - -“Yes, girls,” said Lord Tilbury, as if pleasantly surprised at this neat -way of putting it. “He said he had had trouble a year or so ago----” - -“Mr. Wrenn must have a daughter,” said Mrs. Hammond, pursuing her train -of thought. “Has Mr. Wrenn a daughter?” - -“How the devil should I know?” demanded His Lordship, not unnaturally -irritated. “I don’t keep in touch with the home life of every man in -this building.” - -“Ring him up and ask him.” - -“I won’t. I don’t want my staff to think I’ve gone off my head. Besides, -you may be quite wrong.” - -“I shall be extremely surprised if I am,” said Mrs. Hammond. - -Lord Tilbury sat gazing at her pallidly. He knew that Francie had a -sixth sense in these matters. - - -§ 3 - -At about the moment when Sam entered the luxuriously furnished office of -the Mammoth Publishing Company’s proprietor and chief, in a smaller and -less ornate room in the same building Mr. Matthew Wrenn, all unconscious -of the good fortune about to descend upon him in the shape of the -addition to his staff of a live and go-ahead young assistant, was seated -at his desk, busily engaged in promoting the best interests of that -widely read weekly, Pyke’s _Home Companion_. He was, in fact, correcting -the proofs of an article--ably written, but too long to quote -here--entitled What a Young Girl Can Do in Her Spare Time; Number 3, Bee -Keeping. - -He was interrupted in this task by the opening of the door, and looking -up, was surprised to see his niece, Kay Derrick. - -“Why, Kay!” said Mr. Wrenn. She had never visited him at his office so -early as this, for Mrs. Winnington-Bates expected her serfs to remain on -duty till at least four o’clock. In her blue eyes, moreover, there was a -strange glitter that made him subtly uneasy. “Why, Kay, what are you -doing here?” - -Kay sat down on the desk. Having ruffled his grizzled hair with an -affectionate hand, she remained for a while in silent meditation. - -“I hate young men!” she observed at length. “Why isn’t everyone nice and -old--I mean elderly, but frightfully well preserved, like you, darling?” - -“Is anything the matter?” asked Mr. Wrenn anxiously. - -“Nothing much. I’ve left Mrs. Bates.” - -“I’m very glad to hear it, my dear. There is no earthly reason why you -should have to waste your time slaving----” - -“You’re worse than Claire,” said Kay, her eyes ceasing to glitter. “You -both conspire to coddle me. I’m young and strong, and I ought to be -earning my living. But,” she went on, tapping his head with her finger -to emphasise her words, “I will not continue in a job which involves -being kissed by worms like Claude Bates. No, no, no, sir!” - -Mr. Wrenn raised a shocked and wrathful face. - -“He kissed you?” - -“Yes. You had an article in the _Home Companion_ last week, uncle, -saying what a holy and beautiful thing the first kiss is. Well, Claude -Bates’ wasn’t. He hadn’t shaved and he was wearing a dressing gown. -Also, he was pallid and greenish, and looked as if he had been out all -night. Anything less beautiful and holy I never saw.” - -“He kissed you! What did you do?” - -“I hit him very hard with a book which I was taking to read to Mrs. -Bates. It was the Rev. Aubrey Jerningham’s _Is There a Hell?_ and I’ll -bet Claude thought there was. Until then I had always rather disliked -Mrs. Bates’ taste in literature, which shows how foolish I was. If she -had preferred magazines, where would I have been? There were about six -hundred pages of Aubrey Jerningham, bound in stiff cloth, and he blacked -Claude’s eye like a scholar and a gentleman. And at that moment in came -Mrs. Bates.” - -“Yes?” said Mr. Wrenn, enthralled. - -“Well, a boy’s best friend is his mother. Have you ever seen one of -those cowboy films where there is trouble in the bar-room? It was like -that. Mrs. Bates started to dismiss me, but I got in first with my -resignation, shooting from the hip, as it were. And then I came away, -and here I am.” - -“The fellow should be horsewhipped,” said Mr. Wrenn, breathing heavily. - -“He isn’t worth bothering about,” said Kay. - -The riot of emotion into which she had been plunged by the addresses of -the unshaven Bates had puzzled her. But now she understood. It was -galling to suppose so monstrous a thing, but the explanation was, she -felt, that there had been condescension in his embrace. If she had been -Miss Derrick of Midways, he would not have summoned up the nerve to -kiss her in a million years; but his mother’s secretary and companion -had no terror for him. And at the thought a deep thrill of gratitude to -the Rev. Aubrey Jerningham passed through Kay. How many a time, wearied -by his duties about the parish, must that excellent clergyman have been -tempted to scamp his work and shirk the labour of adding that extra -couple of thousand words which just make all the difference to -literature when considered in the light of a missile. - -But he had been strong. He had completed his full six hundred pages and -seen to it that his binding had been heavy and hard and sharp about the -edges. For a moment, as she sat there, the Rev. Aubrey Jerningham seemed -to Kay the one bright spot in a black world. - -She was still meditating upon him when there was a hearty smack on the -door and Sam came in. - -“Good morning, good morning,” he said cheerily. - -And then he saw Kay, and on the instant his eyes widened into a goggling -stare, his mouth fell open, his fingers clutched wildly at nothing, and -he stood there, gaping. - -Kay met his stare with a defiant eye. In her present mood she disliked -all young men, and there seemed nothing about this one to entitle him to -exemption from her loathing. Rather, indeed, the reverse, for his -appearance jarred upon her fastidious taste. - -If the Cohen Bros., of Covent Garden, have a fault, it is that they -sometimes allow their clients to select clothes that are a shade too -prismatic for anyone who is not at the same time purchasing a banjo and -a straw hat with a crimson ribbon. Fittings take place in a dimly lit -interior, with the result that suits destined to make phlegmatic horses -shy in the open street seem in the shop to possess merely a rather -pleasing vivacity. One of these Sam had bought, and it had been a -blunder on his part. If he had intended to sing comic songs from a punt -at Henley Regatta, he would have been suitably, even admirably, attired. -But as a private gentleman he was a little on the bright side. He -looked, in fact, like a bookmaker who won billiard tournaments, and Kay -gazed upon him with repulsion. - -He, on the other hand, gazed at her with a stunned admiration. That -photograph should have prepared him for something notable in the way of -feminine beauty; but it seemed to him, as he raked her with eyes like -small dinner plates, that it had been a libel, an outrage, a gross -caricature. This girl before him was marvellous. Helen of Troy could -have been nothing to her. He loved her shining eyes, unaware that they -shone with loathing. He worshipped her rose-flushed cheeks, not knowing -that they were flushed because he had been staring at her for -thirty-three seconds without blinking and she was growing restive -beneath his gaze. - -Mr. Wrenn was the first to speak. - -“Did you want anything?” he asked. - -“What?” said Sam. - -“Is there anything I can do for you?” - -“Eh?” - -Mr. Wrenn approached the matter from a fresh angle. - -“This is the office of Pyke’s _Home Companion_. I am Mr. Wrenn, the -editor. Did you wish to see me?” - -“Who?” said Sam. - -At this point Kay turned to the window, and the withdrawal of her eyes -had the effect of releasing Sam from his trance. He became aware that a -grey-haired man, whom he dimly remembered having seen on his entry into -the room some hours before, was addressing him. - -“I beg your pardon?” - -“You wished to see me?” - -“Yes,” said Sam; “yes, yes.” - -“What about?” asked Mr. Wrenn patiently. - -The directness and simplicity of the question seemed to clear Sam’s -head. He recalled now what it was that had brought him here. - -“I’ve come over from America to join the staff of Pyke’s _Home -Companion_.” - -“What?” - -“Lord Tilbury wants me to.” - -“Lord Tilbury?” - -“Yes; I’ve just been seeing him.” - -“But he has said nothing to me about this, Mr.----” - -“----Shotter. No, we only arranged it a moment ago.” - -Mr. Wrenn was a courteous man, and though he was under the impression -that his visitor was raving, he did not show it. - -“Perhaps I had better see Lord Tilbury,” he suggested, rising. “By the -way, my niece, Miss Derrick. Kay, my dear, Mr. Shotter.” - -The departure of the third party and the sudden institution of the -intimacies of a _tête-à-tête_ had the usual effect of producing a -momentary silence. Then Kay moved away from the window and came to the -desk. - -“Did you say you had come from America?” she asked, fiddling with Mr. -Wrenn’s editorial pencil. She had no desire to know, but she supposed -she must engage this person in conversation. - -“From America, yes. Yes, from America.” - -“Is this your first visit to England?” asked Kay, stifling a yawn. - -“Oh, no. I was at school in England.” - -“Really? Where?” - -“At Wrykyn.” - -Kay’s attitude of stiff aloofness relaxed. She became interested. - -“Good gracious! Of course!” She looked upon him quite benevolently. “A -friend of yours was talking to me about you only yesterday--Willoughby -Braddock.” - -“Do you know the Bradder?” gulped Sam, astounded. - -“I’ve known him all my life.” - -A most extraordinary sensation flooded over Sam. It was hard to analyse, -but its effects were thoroughly definite. At the discovery that this -wonderful girl knew the old Bradder and that they could pave the way to -a beautiful friendship by talking about the old Bradder, the office of -Pyke’s _Home Companion_ became all at once flooded with brilliant -sunshine. Birds twittered from the ceiling, and blended with their notes -was the soft music of violins and harps. - -“You really know the Bradder?” - -“We were children together.” - -“What a splendid chap!” - -“Yes, he’s a dear.” - -“What a corker!” - -“Yes!” - -“What an egg!” - -“Yes. Tell me, Mr. Shotter,” said Kay wearying of this eulogy, “do you -remember a boy at your school named Bates?” - -Sam’s face darkened. Time had softened the anguish of that moment -outside the Angry Cheese, but the sting still remained. - -“Yes, I do.” - -“Willoughby Braddock told me that you once beat Bates with a walking -stick.” - -“Yes.” - -“A large walking stick?” - -“Yes.” - -“Did you beat him hard?” - -“Yes, as hard as ever I could lay it in.” - -A little sigh of gratification escaped Kay. - -“Ah!” she said. - -In the course of the foregoing conversation the two had been diminishing -inch by inch the gap which had separated them at its outset, so that -they had come to be standing only a short distance apart; and now, as -she heard those beautiful words, Kay looked up into Sam’s face with a -cordial, congratulatory friendliness which caused him to quiver like a -smitten blanc-mange. Then, while he was still reeling, she smiled. And -it is at this point that the task of setting down the sequence of events -becomes difficult for the historian. - -For, briefly, what happened next was that Sam, groping forward in a -bemused fashion and gathering her clumsily into his arms, kissed Kay. - - -§ 4 - -It might, of course, be possible to lay no stress upon this -occurrence--to ignore it and pass. In kissing, as kissing, there is -nothing fundamentally reprehensible. The early Christians used to do it -all the time to everyone they met. But the historian is too conscious of -the raised eyebrows of his audience to attempt this attitude. Some -explanation, he realises, some argument to show why Sam is not to be -condemned out of hand, is imperative. - -In these circumstances the embarrassing nature of the historian’s -position is readily intelligible. Only a short while back he was -inviting the customers to shudder with loathing at the spectacle of -Claude Bates kissing this girl, and now, all in a flash, he finds -himself faced with the task of endeavouring to palliate the behaviour of -Sam Shotter in doing the very same thing. - -Well, he must do the best he can. Let us marshal the facts. - -In the first place, there stood on Mr. Wrenn’s desk, as on every other -editorial desk in Tilbury House, a large framed card bearing the words, -DO IT NOW! Who shall say whether this may not subconsciously have -influenced the young man? - -In the second place, when you have been carrying about a girl’s -photograph in your breast pocket for four months and brooding over it -several times a day with a beating heart, it is difficult for you to -regard that girl, when you eventually meet her, as a perfect stranger. - -And in the third place--and here we approach the very root of the -matter--there was the smile. - -Girls as pretty as Kay Derrick, especially if their faces are by nature -a little grave, should be extremely careful how and when they smile. -There was that about Kay’s face when in repose which, even when she was -merely wondering what trimming to put on a hat, gave strangers the -impression that here was a pure white soul musing wistfully on life’s -sadness. The consequence was that when she smiled it was as if the sun -had suddenly shone out through clouds. Her smile seemed to make the -world on the instant a sweeter and a better place. Policemen, when she -flashed it on them after being told the way somewhere, became of a -sudden gayer, happier policemen and sang as they directed the traffic. -Beggars, receiving it as a supplement to a small donation, perked up -like magic and started to bite the ears of the passers-by with an -abandon that made all the difference. And when they saw that smile, even -babies in their perambulators stopped looking like peevish poached eggs -and became almost human. - -And it was this smile that she had bestowed upon Sam. And Sam, it will -be remembered, had been waiting months and months for it. - -We have made out, we fancy, a pretty good case for Samuel Shotter; and -it was a pity that some kindly person was not present in Mr. Wrenn’s -office at that moment to place these arguments before Kay. For not one -of them occurred to her independently. She could see no excuse whatever -for Sam’s conduct. She had wrenched herself from his grasp and moved to -the other side of the desk, and across this she now regarded him with a -blazing eye. Her fists were clenched and she was breathing quickly. She -had the air of a girl who would have given a year’s pocket money for a -copy of the Rev. Aubrey Jerningham’s _Is There a Hell?_ - -Gone was that delightful spirit of comradeship which, when he had been -telling of his boyish dealings with Claude, had made him seem almost a -kindred soul. Gone was that soft sensation of gratitude which had come -to her on his assurance that he had not risked spoiling that repulsive -youth by sparing the rod. All she felt now was that her first -impressions of this young man had been right, and that she had been -mauled and insulted by a black-hearted bounder whose very clothes should -have warned her of his innate despicableness. It seems almost incredible -that anyone should think such a thing of anybody, but it is a fact that -in that instant Kay Derrick looked upon Sam as something even lower in -the graduated scale of human subspecies than Claude Winnington-Bates. - -As for Sam, he was still under the ether. - -Nothing is more difficult for both parties concerned than to know what -to say immediately after an occurrence like this. An agitated silence -was brooding over the room, when the necessity for speech was removed by -the re-entry of Mr. Wrenn. - -Mr. Wrenn was not an observant man. Nor was he sensitive to atmosphere. -He saw nothing unusual in his niece’s aspect, nothing out of the way in -Sam’s. The fact that the air inside the office of Pyke’s _Home -Companion_ was quivering with charged emotion escaped his notice -altogether. He addressed Sam genially. - -“It is quite all right, Mr. Shotter. Lord Tilbury wishes you to start -work on the _Companion_ at once.” - -Sam turned to him with the vague stare of the newly awakened -sleepwalker. - -“It will be nice having you in the office,” added Mr. Wrenn amiably. “I -have been short-handed. By the way, Lord Tilbury asked me to send you -along to him at once. He is just going out to lunch.” - -“Lunch?” said Sam. - -“He said you were lunching with him.” - -“Oh, yes,” said Sam dully. - -Mr. Wrenn watched him shamble out of the room with a benevolent eye. - -“We’ll go and have a bite to eat too, my dear,” he said, removing the -alpaca coat which it was his custom to wear in the office. “Haven’t had -lunch with you since I don’t know when.” He reached for the hook which -held his other coat. “I shall like having this young Shotter in the -office,” he said. “He seems a nice young fellow.” - -“He is the most utterly loathsome creature I have ever met,” said Kay. - -Mr. Wrenn, startled, dropped his hat. - -“Eh? What do you mean?” - -“Just what I say. He’s horrible.” - -“But, my dear girl, you only met him five minutes ago.” - -“I know.” - -Mr. Wrenn stooped for his hat and smoothed it with some agitation. - -“This is rather awkward,” he said. - -“What is?” - -“Your feeling like that about young Shotter.” - -“I don’t see why. I don’t suppose I shall ever meet him again.” - -“But you will. I don’t see how it can be prevented. Lord Tilbury tells -me that this young man has taken a lease on Mon Repos.” - -“Mon Repos!” Kay clutched at the desk. “You don’t mean Mon Repos next -door to us?” - -“Yes; and it is so difficult to avoid one’s next-door neighbours.” - -Kay’s teeth met with a little click. - -“It can be done,” she said. - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTEEN - -INTRODUCING A SYNDICATE - - -Across the way from Tilbury House, next door to the massive annex -containing the offices of _Tiny Tots_, _Sabbath Jottings_, _British -Girlhood_, the _Boys’ Adventure Weekly_ and others of the more recently -established of the Mammoth Publishing Company’s periodicals, there -stands a ramshackle four-storied building of an almost majestic -dinginess, which Lord Tilbury, but for certain regulations having to do -with ancient lights, would have swallowed up years ago, as he had -swallowed the rest of the street. - -The first three floors of this building are occupied by firms of the -pathetic type which cannot conceivably be supposed to do any business, -and yet hang on with dull persistency for decade after decade. Their -windows are dirty and forlorn and most of the lettering outside has been -worn away, so that on the second floor it would appear that trade is -being carried by the Ja--& Sum--r--Rub--Co., while just above, Messrs. -Smith, R-bi-s-n & G----, that mystic firm, are dealing in something -curtly described as c----. It is not until we reach the fourth and final -floor that we find the modern note struck. - -Here the writing is not only clear and golden but, when read, -stimulating to the imagination. It runs: - - THE TILBURY DETECTIVE AGENCY, LTD. - J. Sheringham Adair, Mgr. - Large and Efficient Staff - -and conjures up visions of a suite of rooms filled with hawk-faced men -examining bloodstains through microscopes or poring tensely over the -papers connected with the singular affair of the theft of the -maharajah’s ruby. - -On the morning, however, on which Sam Shotter paid his visit to Tilbury -House, only one man was sitting in the office of the detective agency. -He was a small and weedy individual, clad in a suit brighter even than -the one which Sam had purchased from the Brothers Cohen. And when it is -stated in addition that he wore a waxed moustache and that his -handkerchief, which was of colored silk, filled the air with a noisome -perfume, further evidence is scarcely required to convince the reader -that he is being introduced to a most undesirable character. -Nevertheless, the final damning fact may as well be revealed. It is -this--the man was not looking out of a window. - -Tilbury Street is very narrow and the fourth-floor windows of this -ramshackle building are immediately opposite those of the fourth floor -of Tilbury House. Alexander Twist therefore was in a position, if he -pleased, to gaze through into the private sanctum of the proprietor of -the Mammoth Publishing Company and obtain the spiritual uplift which -could hardly fail to result from the spectacle of that great man at -work. Alone of London’s millions of inhabitants, he had it in his power -to watch Lord Tilbury pacing up and down, writing at his desk or -speaking into the dictating device who knows what terrific thoughts. - -Yet he preferred to sit at a table playing solitaire--and, one is -prepared to bet, cheating. One need not, one fancies, say more. - -So absorbed was Mr. Twist in his foolish game that the fact that someone -was knocking on the door did not at first penetrate his senses. It was -only when the person outside, growing impatient, rapped the panel with -some hard object which might have been the handle of a lady’s parasol -that he raised his head with a start. He swept the cards into a drawer, -gave his coat a settling tug and rose alertly. The knock sounded like -business, and Mr. Twist, who was not only J. Sheringham Adair, Mgr., but -the large and efficient staff as well, was not the man to be caught -unprepared. - -“Come in,” he shouted. - -With a quick flick of his hand he scattered a top dressing of -important-looking papers about the table and was bending over these with -a thoughtful frown when the door opened. - -At the sight of his visitor he relaxed the preoccupied austerity of his -demeanour. The new-comer was a girl in the middle twenties, of bold but -at the moment rather sullen good looks. She had the bright hazel eyes -which seldom go with a meek and contrite heart. Her colouring was vivid, -and in the light from the window her hair gleamed with a sheen that was -slightly metallic. - -“Why, hello, Dolly,” said Mr. Twist. - -“Hello,” said the girl moodily. - -“Haven’t seen you for a year, Dolly. Never knew you were this side at -all. Take a seat.” - -The visitor took a seat. - -“For the love of pop, Chimp,” she said, eying him with a languid -curiosity, “where did you get the fungus?” - -Mr. Twist moved in candid circles, and the soubriquet Chimp--short for -Chimpanzee--by which he was known not only to his intimates but to -police officials in America who would have liked to become more intimate -than they were, had been bestowed upon him at an early stage of his -career in recognition of a certain simian trend which critics affected -to see in the arrangement of his features. - -“Looks good, don’t you think?” he said, stroking his moustache fondly. -It and money were the only things he loved. - -“Anything you say. And I suppose, when you know you may be in the coop -any moment, you like to have all the hair you can while you can.” - -Mr. Twist felt a little wounded. He did not like badinage about his -moustache. He did not like tactless allusions to the coop. And he was -puzzled by the unwonted brusqueness of the girl’s manner. The Dora Gunn -he had known had been a cheery soul, quite unlike this tight-lipped, -sombre-eyed person now before him. - -The girl was looking about her. She seemed perplexed. - -“What’s all this?” she asked, pointing her parasol at the writing on the -window. - -Mr. Twist smiled indulgently and with a certain pride. He was, he -flattered himself, a man of ideas, and this of presenting himself to the -world as a private investigator he considered one of his happiest. - -“Just camouflage,” he said. “Darned useful to have a label. Keeps people -from asking questions.” - -“It won’t keep me from asking questions. That’s what I’ve come for. Say, -Chimp, can you tell the truth without straining a muscle?” - -“You know me, Dolly.” - -“Yes, that’s why I asked. Well, I’ve come to get you to tell me -something. Nobody listening?” - -“Not a soul.” - -“How about the office boy?” - -“I haven’t got an office boy. Who do you think I am--Pierpont Morgan?” - -Thus reassured, the girl produced a delicate handkerchief, formerly the -property of Harrod’s Stores and parted from unwittingly by that -establishment. - -“Chimp,” she said, brushing away a tear, “I’m sim’ly miserable.” - -Chimp Twist was not the man to stand idly by while beauty in distress -wept before him. He slid up and was placing a tender arm about her -shoulder, when she jerked herself away. - -“You can tie a can to that stuff,” she said with womanly dignity. “I’d -like you to know I’m married.” - -“Married?” - -“Sure. Day before yesterday--to Soapy Molloy.” - -“Soapy!” Mr. Twist started. “What in the world did you want to marry -that slab of Gorgonzola for?” - -“I’ll ask you kindly, if you wouldn’t mind,” said the girl in a cold -voice, “not to go alluding to my husband as slabs of Gorgonzola.” - -“He is a slab of Gorgonzola.” - -“He is not. Well, anyway, I’m hoping he’s not. It’s what I come here to -find out.” - -Mr. Twist’s mind had returned to the perplexing matter of the marriage. - -“I don’t get this,” he said. “I saw Soapy a couple of weeks back and he -didn’t say he’d even met you.” - -“He hadn’t then. We only run into each other ten days ago. I was walking -up the Haymarket and I catch sight of a feller behind me out of the -corner of my eye, so I faint on him, see?” - -“You’re still in that line, eh?” - -“Well, it’s what I do best, isn’t it?” - -Chimp nodded. Dora Molloy--Fainting Dolly to her friends--was -unquestionably an artist in her particular branch of industry. It was -her practice to swoon in the arms of rich-looking strangers in the -public streets and pick their pockets as they bent to render her -assistance. It takes all sorts to do the world’s work. - -“Well, then I seen it was Soapy, and so we go to lunch and have a nice -chat. I always was strong for that boy, and we were both feeling kind of -lonesome over here in London, so we fix it up. And now I’m sim’ly -miserable.” - -“What,” inquired Mr. Twist, “is biting you?” - -“Well, I’ll tell you. This is what’s happened: Last night this bird -Soapy goes out after supper and doesn’t blow in again till four in the -morning. Four in the morning, I’ll trouble you, and us only married two -days. Well, if he thinks a young bride’s going to stand for that sort of -conduct right plumb spang in the middle of what you might call the -honeymoon, he’s got a second guess due him.” - -“What did you do?” asked Mr. Twist sympathetically, but with a touch of -that rather unctuous complacency which bachelors display at moments like -this. - -“I did plenty. And he tried to alibi himself by pulling a story. That -story the grand jury is now going to investigate and investigate -good.... Chimp, did you ever hear of a man named Finglass?” - -There was that in Mr. Twist’s manner that seemed to suggest that he was -a reluctant witness, but he answered after a brief hesitation. - -“Sure!” - -“Oh, you did, eh? Well, who was he then?” - -“He was big,” said Chimp, and there was a note of reverence in his -voice. “One of the very biggest, old Finky was.” - -“How was he big? What did he ever do?” - -“Well, it was before your time and it happened over here, so I guess you -may not have heard of it; but he took a couple of million dollars away -from the New Asiatic Bank.” - -Mrs. Molloy was undeniably impressed. The formidable severity of her -manner seemed to waver. - -“Were you and Soapy mixed up with him?” - -“Sure! We were the best pals he had.” - -“Is he alive?” - -“No; he died in Buenos Aires the other day.” - -Mrs. Molloy bit her lower lip thoughtfully. - -“Say, it’s beginning to look to me like that story of Soapy’s was the -goods after all. Listen, Chimp, I’d best tell you the whole thing. When -I give Soapy the razz for staying out all night like the way he done, he -pulled this long spiel about having had a letter from a guy he used to -know named Finglass, written on his deathbed, saying that this guy -Finglass hadn’t been able to get away with the money he’d swiped from -this New Asiatic Bank on account the bulls being after him, and he’d had -to leave the whole entire lot of it behind, hidden in some house down in -the suburbs somewheres. And he told Soapy where the house was, and Soapy -claims that what kep’ him out so late was he’d been searching the house, -trying to locate the stuff. And what I want to know is, was he telling -the truth or was he off somewheres at one of these here now gilded -night-clubs, cutting up with a bunch of janes and doing me wrong?” - -Again Mr. Twist seemed to resent the necessity of acting as a favourable -witness for a man he obviously disliked. He struggled with his feelings -for a space. - -“Yes, it’s true,” he said at length. - -“But listen here. This don’t seem to me to gee up. If this guy Finglass -wanted Soapy to have the money, why did he wait all this time before -telling him about it?” - -“Thought he might find a chance of sneaking back and getting it himself, -of course. But he got into trouble in Argentina almost as soon as he hit -the place, and they stowed him away in the cooler; and he only got out -in time to write the letters and then make his finish.” - -“How do you know all that?” - -“Finky wrote to me too.” - -“Oh, did he? Well, then, here’s another thing that don’t seem to make -sense: When he did finally get round to telling Soap about this money, -why couldn’t he let him know where it was? I mean, why didn’t he say -it’s under the mat or poked up the chimney or something, ’stead of -leaving him hunt for it like he was playing button, button, where’s the -button--or something?” - -“Because,” said Mr. Twist bitterly, “Soapy and me were both pals of his, -and he wanted us to share. And to make sure we should get together he -told Soapy where the house was and me where the stuff was hidden in the -house.” - -“So you’ve only to pool your info’ to bring home the bacon?” cried -Dolly, wide-eyed. - -“That’s all.” - -“Then why in time haven’t you done it?” - -Mr. Twist snorted. It is not easy to classify snorts, but this was one -which would have been recognised immediately by any expert as the snort -despairing, caused by the contemplation of the depths to which human -nature can sink. - -“Because,” he said, “Soapy, the pig-headed stiff, thinks he can -double-cross me and get it alone.” - -“What?” Mrs. Molloy uttered a cry of wifely pride. “Well, isn’t that -bright of my sweet old pieface! I’d never of thought the dear boy would -have had the sense to think up anything like that.” - -Mr. Twist was unable to share her pretty enthusiasm. - -“A lot it’s going to get him!” he said sourly. - -“Two million smackers it’s going to get him,” retorted Dolly. - -“Two million smackers nothing! The stuff’s hidden in a place where he’d -never think of looking in two million years.” - -“You can’t bluff me, Chimp Twist,” said Dolly, gazing at him with the -cold disdain of a princess confronted with a boll weevil. “If he keeps -on looking, it stands to reason----” - -She broke off. The door had opened and a man was entering. He was a -fine, handsome, open-faced man of early middle age. At the sight of this -person Chimp Twist’s eyes narrowed militantly, but Dolly flung herself -into his arms with a remorseful cry. - -“Oh, Soapy, darling! How I misjudged you!” - -The new-comer had had the air of a man weighed down with the maximum -amount of sorrow which a human being can bear. This demonstration, -however, seemed to remove something of the burden. - -“’S all right, sweetness,” he said, clasping her to his swelling bosom. - -“Was I mean to my angel-face?” - -“There, there, honey lamb!” - -Chimp Twist looked sourly upon this nauseating scene of marital -reconciliation. - -“Ah, cut it out!” he growled. - -“Chimp’s told me everything, baby doll,” proceeded Mrs. Molloy. “I know -all about that money, and you just keep right along, precious, hunting -for it by yourself. I don’t mind how often you stay out nights or how -late you stay out.” - -It was a generous dispensation, for which many husbands would have been -grateful, but Soapy Molloy merely smiled a twisted, tortured smile of -ineffable sadness. He looked like an unsuccessful candidate hearing the -result of a presidential election. - -“It’s all off, honey bunch,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s cold, -petty. We’ll have to let Chimp in on it after all, sweetie-pie. I came -here to put my cards on the table and have a show-down.” - -A quivering silence fell upon the room. Mrs. Molloy was staring at her -husband, aghast. As for Chimp, he was completely bewildered. The theory -that his old comrade had had a change of heart--that his conscience, -putting in some rapid work after getting off to a bad start, had caused -him to regret his intention of double-crossing a friend, was too bizarre -to be tenable. Soapy Molloy was not the sort of man to have changes of -heart. Chimp, in his studies of the motion-picture drama, had once seen -a film where a tough egg had been converted by hearing a church organ, -but he knew Mr. Molloy well enough to be aware that all the organs in -all the churches in London might play in his ear simultaneously without -causing him to do anything more than grumble at the noise. - -“The house has been taken,” said Soapy despondently. - -“Taken? What do you mean?” - -“Rented.” - -“Rented? When?” - -“I heard this morning. I was in a saloon down Fleet Street way, and two -fellows come in and one of them was telling the other how he’d just -rented this joint.” - -Chimp Twist uttered a discordant laugh. - -“So that’s what’s come of your darned smooth double-crossing act!” he -said nastily. “Yes, I guess you better had let Chimp in on it. You want -a man with brains now, not a guy that never thought up anything smarter -than gypping suckers with a phony oil stock.” - -Mr. Molloy bowed his head meekly before the blast. His wife was made of -sterner stuff. - -“You talk a lot, don’t you?” she said coldly. - -“And I can do a lot,” retorted Mr. Twist, fingering his waxed moustache. -“So you’d best come clean, Soapy, and have a show-down, like you say. -Where is this joint?” - -“Don’t you dare tell him before he tells you where the stuff is!” cried -Mrs. Molloy. - -“Just as you say,” said Chimp carelessly. He scribbled a few words on a -piece of paper and covered them with his hand. “There! Now you write -down your end of it and Dolly can read them both out.” - -“Have you really thought up a scheme?” asked Mr. Molloy humbly. - -“I’ve thought up a dozen.” - -Mr. Molloy wrote in his turn and Dolly picked up the two papers. - -“In the cistern!” she read. - -“And the rest of it?” inquired Mr. Twist pressingly. - -“Mon Repos, Burberry Road,” said Mr. Molloy. - -“Ah!” said Chimp. “And if I’d known that a week ago, we’d have been -worth a million dollars apiece by now.” - -“Say, listen,” said Dolly, who was pensive and had begun to eye Mr. -Twist in rather an unpleasant manner. “This stuff old Finglass swiped -from the bank, what is it?” - -“American bearer securities, sweetie,” said her husband, rolling the -words round his tongue as if they were vintage port. “As good as dollar -bills. What’s the dope you’ve thought up, Chimpie?” he asked, -deferentially removing a piece of fluff from his ally’s coat sleeve. - -“Just a minute!” said Dolly sharply. “If that’s so, how can this stuff -be in any cistern? It would have melted, being all that time in the -water.” - -“It’s in a waterproof case, of course,” said Chimp. - -“Oh, it is, is it?” - -“What’s the matter, petty?” inquired Mr. Molloy. “You’re acting -strange.” - -“Am I? Well, if you want to know, I’m wondering if this guy is putting -one over on us. How are we to know he’s telling us the right place?” - -“Dolly!” said Mr. Twist, deeply pained. - -“Dolly!” said Mr. Molloy, not so much pained as apprehensive. He had a -very modest opinion of his own chances of thinking of any way for coping -with the situation which had arisen, and everything, it seemed to him, -depended upon being polite to Chimp Twist, who was admittedly a man of -infinite resource and sagacity. - -“If you think that of me----” began Mr. Twist. - -“We don’t, Chimpie, we don’t,” interrupted Mr. Molloy hastily. “The -madam is a little upset. Don’t listen to her. What is this scheme of -yours, Chimpie?” - -Perhaps Mrs. Molloy’s estimate of her husband’s talents as a strategist -resembled his own. At any rate, she choked down certain words that had -presented themselves to her militant mind and stood eying Chimp -inquiringly. - -“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Chimp. “But first let’s get the business end -straight. How do we divvy?” - -“Why, fifty-fifty, Chimp,” stammered Mr. Molloy, stunned at the -suggestion implied in his words that any other arrangement could be -contemplated. “Me and the madam counting as one, of course.” - -Chimp laughed sardonically. - -“Fifty-fifty nothing! I’m the brains of this concern, and the brains of -a concern always gets paid highest. Look at Henry Ford! Look at the -Archbishop of Canterbury!” - -“Do you mean to say,” demanded Dolly, “that if Soapy was sitting in with -the Archbishop of Canterbury on a plan for skinning a sucker the -archbish wouldn’t split Even Stephen?” - -“It isn’t like that at all,” retorted Mr. Twist with spirit. “It’s more -as if Soapy went to the Archbishop of Canterbury and asked him to slip -him a scheme for skinning the mug.” - -“Well, in that case,” said Mr. Molloy, “I venture to assert that the -archbishop would simply say to me, ‘Molloy,’ he’d say----” - -Dolly wearied of a discussion which seemed to her too academic for the -waste of valuable moments. - -“Sixty-forty,” she said brusquely. - -“Seventy-thirty,” emended Chimp. - -“Sixty-five-thirty-five,” said Mr. Molloy. - -“Right!” said Chimp. “And now I’ll tell you what to do.” I’ll give you -five minutes first to see if you can think of it for yourself, and if -you can’t, I’ll ask you not to start beefing because it’s so simple and -not worth the money.” - -Five minutes’ concentrated meditation produced no brain wave in Mr. -Molloy, who, outside his chosen profession of selling valueless oil -stock to a trusting public, was not a very gifted man. - -“Well, then,” said Chimp, “here you are: You go to that fellow who’s -taken the joint and ask him to let you buy it off him.” - -“Well, of all the fool propositions!” cried Dolly shrilly, and even Mr. -Molloy came near to sneering. - -“Not so good, you don’t think?” continued Chimp, uncrushed. “Well, then, -listen here to the rest of it. Dolly calls on this fellow first. She -acts surprised because her father hasn’t arrived yet.” - -“Her what?” - -“Her father. Then she starts in vamping this guy all she can. If she -hasn’t lost her pep since she last tried that sort of thing, the guy -ought to be in pretty good shape for Act Two by the time the curtain -rings up. That’s when you blow in, Soapy.” - -“Am I her father?” asked Mr. Molloy, a little blankly. - -“Sure, you’re her father. Why not?” - -Mr. Molloy, who was a little sensitive about the difference in age -between his bride and himself, considered that Chimp was not displaying -his usual tact, but muttered something about greying himself up some at -the temples. - -“Then what?” asked Dolly. - -“Then,” said Chimp, “Soapy does a spiel.” - -Mr. Molloy brightened. He knew himself to be at his best when it came to -a spiel. - -“Soapy says he was born in this joint--ages and ages ago.” - -“What do you mean--ages and ages ago?” said Mr. Molloy, starting. - -“Ages and ages ago,” repeated Chimp firmly, “before he had to emigrate -to America and leave the dear old place to be sold. He has loving -childhood recollections of the lawn where he played as a kiddy and -worships every brick in the place. All his favourite relations pegged -out in the rooms upstairs, and all like that. Well, I’m here to say,” -concluded Chimp emphatically, “that if that guy has any sentiment in him -and if Dolly has done the preliminary work properly, he’ll drop.” - -There was a tense silence. - -“It’ll work,” said Soapy. - -“It might work,” said Dolly, more doubtfully. - -“It will work,” said Soapy. “I shall be good. I will have that lobster -weeping into his handkerchief inside three minutes.” - -“A lot depends on Dolly,” Chimp reminded him. - -“Don’t you worry about that,” said the lady stoutly. “I’ll be good too. -But listen here; I’ve got to dress this act. This is where I have to -have that hat with the bird-of-paradise feather that I see in Regent -Street this morning.” - -“How much?” inquired the rest of the syndicate in a single breath. - -“Eighteen guineas.” - -“Eighteen guineas!” said Chimp. - -“Eighteen guineas!” said Soapy. - -They looked at each other wanly, while Dolly, unheeded, spoke of ships -and ha’porths of tar. - -“And a new dress,” she continued, warming to her work. “And new shoes -and a new parasol and new gloves and new----” - -“Have a heart, petty,” pleaded Mr. Molloy. “Exercise a little -discretion, sweetness.” - -Dolly was firm. - -“A girl,” she said, “can’t do herself justice in a tacky lid. You know -that. And you know as well as I do that the first thing a gentleman does -is to look at a dame’s hoofs. And as for gloves, I simply beg you to -cast an eye on these old things I’ve got on now and ask yourselves----” - -“Oh, all right, all right,” said Chimp. - -“All right,” echoed Mr. Molloy. - -Their faces were set grimly. These men were brave, but they were -suffering. - - - - -CHAPTER FOURTEEN - -THE CHIRRUP - - -Mr. Wrenn looked up from his plate with a sudden start, a wild and -febrile glare of horror in his eyes. Old theatregoers, had any such been -present, would have been irresistibly reminded by his demeanour of the -late Sir Henry Irving in _The Bells_. - -It was breakfast time at San Rafael; and, as always at this meal, the -air was charged with an electric unrest. It is ever thus at breakfast in -the suburbs. The specter of a fleeting train broods over the feast, -turning normally placid men into temporary neuropaths. Meeting Mr. Wrenn -in Fleet Street after lunch, you would have set him down as a very -pleasant, quiet, elderly gentleman, rather on the mild side. At -breakfast, Bengal tigers could have picked up hints from him. - -“Zatawittle?” he gasped, speaking in the early morning patois of -Suburbia, which is the English language filtered through toast and -marmalade. - -“Of course, it wasn’t a whistle, darling,” said Kay soothingly. “I keep -telling you you’ve lots of time.” - -Partially reassured, Mr. Wrenn went on with his meal. He finished his -toast and reached for his cup. - -“Wassatie?” - -“Only a quarter-past.” - -“Sure your washrah?” - -“I put it right yesterday.” - -At this moment there came faintly from afar a sweet, musical chiming. - -“There’s the college clock striking the quarter,” said Kay. - -Mr. Wrenn’s fever subsided. If it was only a quarter-past he was on -velvet. He could linger and chat for a while. He could absolutely dally. -He pushed back his chair and lighted a cigarette with the air of a -leisured man. - -“Kay, my dear,” he said, “I’ve been thinking--about this young fellow -Shotter.” - -Kay jumped. By an odd coincidence, she had herself been thinking of Sam -at that moment. It annoyed her to think of Sam, but she constantly found -herself doing it. - -“I really think we ought to invite him to dinner one night.” - -“No!” - -“But he seems so anxious to be friendly. Only yesterday he asked me if -he could drop round some time and borrow the garden roller. He said he -understood that that was always the first move in the suburbs toward -establishing good neighbourly relations.” - -“If you ask him to dinner I shall go out.” - -“I can’t understand why you dislike him so much.” - -“Well, I just do.” - -“He seems to admire you tremendously.” - -“Does he?” - -“He keeps talking about you--asking what you were like as a child and -whether you ever did you hair differently and things of that kind.” - -“Oh!” - -“I rather wish you didn’t object to him so much. I should like to see -something of him out of office hours. I find him a very pleasant fellow -myself, and extremely useful in the office. He has taken that Aunt -Ysobel page off my hands. You remember how I used to hate having to -write that?” - -“Is that all he does?” - -Mr. Wrenn chuckled. - -“By no means,” he said amusedly. - -“What are you laughing at?” - -“I was thinking,” explained Mr. Wrenn, “of something that happened -yesterday. Cordelia Blair called to see me with one of her usual -grievances----” - -“Oh, no!” said Kay sympathetically. Her uncle, she knew, was much -persecuted by female contributors who called with grievances at the -offices of Pyke’s _Home Companion_; and of all these gifted creatures, -Miss Cordelia Blair was the one he feared most. “What was the trouble -this time?” - -“Apparently the artist who is illustrating _Hearts Aflame_ had drawn -Leslie Mordyke in a lounge suit instead of dress clothes.” - -“Why don’t you bite these women’s heads off when they come bothering -you? You shouldn’t be so nice to them.” - -“I can’t, my dear,” said Mr. Wrenn plaintively. “I don’t know why it is, -but the mere sight of a woman novelist who is all upset seems to take -all the heart out of me. I sometimes wish I could edit some paper like -_Tiny Tots_ or _Our Feathered Chums_. I don’t suppose indignant children -come charging in on Mason or outraged canaries on Mortimer.... But I was -telling you--when I heard her voice in the outer office, I acquainted -this young fellow Shotter briefly with the facts, and he most nobly -volunteered to go out and soothe her.” - -“I can’t imagine him soothing anyone.” - -“Well, he certainly had the most remarkable effect on Miss Blair. He -came back ten minutes later to say that all was well and that she had -gone away quite happy.” - -“Did he tell you how he had managed it?” - -“No.” Another chuckle escaped Mr. Wrenn. “Kay, it isn’t possible--you -don’t imagine--you don’t suppose he could conceivably, on such a very -slight acquaintance, have kissed her, do you?” - -“I should think it very probable.” - -“Well, I’m bound to own----” - -“Don’t laugh in that horrible, ghoulish way, uncle!” - -“I can’t help it. I could see nothing, you understand, as I was in the -inner office; but there were most certainly sounds that suggested----” - -Mr. Wrenn broke off. Again that musical chiming had come faintly to his -ears. But this time its effect was the reverse of soothing. He became a -thing of furious activity. He ran to and fro, seizing his hat and -dropping it, picking it up and dropping his brief case, retrieving the -brief case and dropping his stick. By the time he had finally shot out -of the front door with his hat on his head, his brief case in his hand -and his stick dangling from his arm, it was as if a tornado had passed -through the interior of San Rafael, and Kay, having seen him off, went -out into the garden to try to recover. - -It was a pleasant, sunny morning, and she made for her favourite spot, -the shade of the large tree that hung over the edge of the lawn, a noble -tree, as spreading as that which once sheltered the Village Blacksmith. -Technically, this belonged to Mon Repos, its roots being in the latter’s -domain; but its branches had grown out over the fence, and San Rafael, -with that injustice which is so marked a feature of human affairs, got -all the benefit of its shade. - -Seated under this, with a gentle breeze ruffling her hair, Kay gave -herself up to meditation. - -She felt worried and upset and in the grip of one of her rare moods of -despondency. She had schooled herself to pine as little as possible for -the vanished luxury of Midways, but when she did so pine it was always -at this time of the day. For although she had adjusted herself with -almost complete success to the conditions of life at San Rafael, she had -not yet learned to bear up under the suburban breakfast. - -At Midways the meal had been so leisurely, so orderly, so spacious, so -redolent of all that is most delightful in the country life of the -wealthy; a meal of soft murmurs and rustling papers, of sunshine falling -on silver in the summer, of crackling fires in winter; a take-your-time -meal; a thing of dignity and comfort. Breakfast at San Rafael was a mere -brutish bolting of food, and it jarred upon her afresh each morning. - -The breeze continued to play in her hair. Birds hopped upon the grass. -Someone down the road was using a lawn mower. Gradually the feeling of -having been jolted and shaken by some rude force began to pass from Kay, -and she was just reaching the stage where, re-establishing connection -with her sense of humour, she would be able to look upon the amusing -side of the recent scramble, when from somewhere between earth and -heaven there spoke a voice. - -“Oo-oo!” said the voice. - -Kay was puzzled. Though no ornithologist, she had become reasonably -familiar with the distinctive notes of such of our feathered chums as -haunted the garden of San Rafael, and this did not appear to be one of -them. - -“I see you,” proceeded the voice lovingly. “How’s your pore head, -dearie?” - -The solution of the mystery presented itself at last. Kay raised her -eyes and beheld, straddled along a branch almost immediately above her, -a lean, stringy man of ruffianly aspect, his naturally unlovely face -rendered additionally hideous by an arch and sentimental smile. For a -long instant this person goggled at her, and she stared back at him. -Then, with a gasp that sounded confusedly apologetic, he scrambled back -along the branch like an anthropoid ape, and dropping to earth beyond -the fence, galloped blushingly up the garden. - -Kay sprang to her feet. She had been feeling soothed, but now a bubbling -fury had her in its grip. It was bad enough that outcasts like Sam -Shotter should come and camp themselves next door to her. It was bad -enough that they should annoy her uncle, a busy man, with foolish -questions about what she had been like as a child and whether she had -ever done her hair differently. But when their vile retainers went to -the length of climbing trees and chirruping at her out of them, the -situation, it seemed to her, passed beyond the limit up to which a -spirited girl may reasonably be expected to endure. - -She returned to the house, fermenting, and as she reached the hall the -front doorbell rang. - -Technically, when the front doorbell of San Rafael rang, it was Claire -Lippett’s duty to answer it; but Claire was upstairs making beds. Kay -stalked across the hall, and having turned the handle, found confronting -her a young woman of spectacular appearance, clad in gorgeous raiment -and surmounted by a bird-of-paradise-feathered hat so much too good for -her that Kay’s immediate reaction of beholding it was one of simple and -ignoble jealousy. It was the sort of hat she would have liked to be able -to afford herself, and its presence on the dyed hair of another cemented -the prejudice which that other’s face and eyes had aroused within her. - -“Does a guy named Shotter live here?” asked the visitor. Then, with the -air of one remembering a part and with almost excessive refinement, -“Could I see Mr. Shotter, if you please?” - -“Mr. Shotter lives next door,” said Kay frostily. - -“Oh, thank yaw. Thank yaw so much.” - -“Not at all,” said Kay. - -She shut the door and went into the drawing-room. The feeling of being -in a world bounded north, east, south and west by Sam Shotter had -thoroughly poisoned her day. - -She took pen, ink and paper and wrote viciously for a few moments. - -“Claire,” she called. - -“’Ullo!” replied a distant voice. - -“I’m leaving a note on the hall table. Will you take it next door some -time?” - -“Right-ho!” bellowed the obliging Miss Lippett. - - - - -CHAPTER FIFTEEN - -VISITORS AT MON REPOS - - -Sam was preparing to leave for the office when his visitor arrived. He -had, indeed, actually opened the front door. - -“Mr. Shottah?” - -“Yes,” said Sam. He was surprised to see Mrs. Molloy. He had not -expected visitors at so early a period of his tenancy. This, he -supposed, must be the suburban equivalent of the county calling on the -new-comer. Impressed by the hat, he assumed Dolly to be one of the old -aristocracy of Valley Fields. A certain challenging jauntiness in her -bearing forbade the suspicion that she was collecting funds for charity. -“Won’t you come in?” - -“Thank yaw. Thank yaw so much. The house agent told me your name.” - -“Cornelius?” - -“Gink with a full set of white whiskers. Say, somebody ought to put that -baby wise about the wonderful invention of the safety razor.” - -Sam agreed that this might be in the public interest, but he began to -revise his views about the old aristocracy. - -“I’m afraid you’ll find the place in rather a mess,” he said -apologetically, leading the way to the drawing-room. “I’ve only just -moved in.” - -The visitor replied that, on the contrary, she thought it cute. - -“I seem to know this joint by heart,” she said. “I’ve heard so much -about it from old pop.” - -“I don’t think I am acquainted with Mr. Popp.” - -“My father, I mean. He used to live here when he was a tiny kiddy.” - -“Really? I should have taken you for an American.” - -“I am American, and don’t let anyone tell you different.” - -“I won’t.” - -“One hundred per cent, that’s me,” Sam nodded. - -“‘Oh, say, can you see by the dawn’s early light?’” he said reverently. - -“‘What so proudly’--I never can remember any more.” - -“No one,” Sam reminded her, “knows the words but the Argentines....” - -“...And the Portuguese and the Greeks.” The lady beamed. “Say, don’t -tell me you’re American too!” - -“My mother was.” - -“Why, this is fine! Pop’ll be tickled to death.” - -“Is your father coming here too?” - -“Well, I should say so! You don’t think I pay calls on strange gentlemen -all by myself, do you?” said the lady archly. “But listen! If you’re -American, we’re sitting pretty, because it’s only us Americans that’s -got real sentiment in them. Ain’t it the truth?” - -“I don’t quite understand. Why do you want me to have sentiment?” - -“Pop’ll explain all that when he arrives. I’m surprised he hasn’t blown -in yet. I didn’t think I’d get here first.” She looked about her. “It -seems funny to think of pop as a little kiddy in this very room.” - -“Your father was English then?” - -“Born in England--born here--born in this very house. Just to think of -pop playing all them childish games in this very room!” - -Sam began to wish that she would stop. Her conversation was beginning to -give the place a queer feeling. The room had begun to seem haunted by a -peculiar being of middle-aged face and juvenile costume. So much so that -when she suddenly exclaimed, “There’s pop!” he had a momentary -impression that a whiskered elder in Lord Fauntleroy clothes was about -to dance out from behind the sofa. - -Then he saw that his visitor was looking out of the window and, -following her gaze, noted upon the front steps a gentleman of majestic -port. - -“I’ll go and let him in,” he said. - -“Do you live here all alone?” asked the lady, and Sam got the idea that -she spoke eagerly. - -“Oh, no, I’ve a man. But he’s busy somewhere.” - -“I see,” she said disappointedly. - -The glimpse which Sam had caught of the new arrival through the window -had been a sketchy one. It was only as he opened the door that he got a -full view of him. And having done so, he was a little startled. It is -always disconcerting to see a familiar face where one had expected a -strange one. This was the man he had seen in the bar that day when he -had met Hash in Fleet Street. - -“Mr. Shotter?” - -“Yes.” - -It seemed to Sam that the man had aged a good deal since he had seen him -last. The fact was that Mr. Molloy, in greying himself up at the -temples, had rather overdone the treatment. Still, though stricken in -years, he looked a genial, kindly, honest soul. - -“My name is Gunn, Mr. Shotter--Thomas G. Gunn.” - -It had been Mr. Molloy’s intention--for he was an artist and liked to do -a thing, as he said, properly--to adopt for this interview the pseudonym -of J. Felkin Haggenbakker, that seeming to his critical view the sort of -name a sentimental millionaire who had made a fortune in Pittsburgh and -was now revisiting the home of his boyhood ought to have. The proposal -had been vetoed by Dolly, who protested that she did not intend to spend -hours of her time in unnecessary study. - -“Won’t you come in?” said Sam. - -He stood aside to let his visitor pass, wondering again where it was -that he had originally seen the man. He hated to forget a face and -personality which should have been unforgettable. He ushered Mr. Gunn -into the drawing-room, still pondering. - -“So there you are, pop,” said the lady. “Say, pop, isn’t it dandy? Mr. -Shotter’s an American.” - -Mr. Gunn’s frank eyes lit up with gratification. - -“Ah! Then you are a man of sentiment, Mr. Shotter. You will understand. -You will not think it odd that a man should cherish all through his life -a wistful yearning for the place where he was born.” - -“Not at all,” said Sam politely, and might have reminded his visitor -that the feeling, a highly creditable one, was shared by practically all -America’s most eminent song writers. - -“Well, that is how I feel, Mr. Shotter,” said the other bluffly, “and I -am not ashamed to confess it. This house is very dear to me. I was born -in it.” - -“So Miss Gunn was telling me.” - -“Ah, she has told you? Yes, Mr. Shotter, I am a man who has seen men and -cities. I have lived in the hovels of the poor, I have risen till, if I -may say so, I am welcomed in the palaces of the rich. But never, rich or -poor, have I forgotten this old place and the childhood associations -which hallow it.” - -He paused. His voice had trembled and sunk to a whisper in those last -words, and now he turned abruptly and looked out of a window. His -shoulders heaved significantly for an instant and something like a -stifled sob broke the stillness of the room. But when a moment later he -swung round he was himself again, the tough, sturdy old J. Felkin -Haggenbakker--or, rather, Thomas G. Gunn--who was so highly respected, -and perhaps a little feared, at the Rotary Club in Pittsburgh. - -“Well, I must not bore you, Mr. Shotter. You are, no doubt, a busy man. -Let me be brief. Mr. Shotter, I want this house.” - -“You want what?” said Sam, bewildered. He had had no notion that he was -going to be swept into the maelstrom of a business transaction. - -“Yes, sir, I want this house. And let me tell you that money is no -object. I’ve lots of money.” He dismissed money with a gesture. “I have -my whims and I can pay for them. How much for the house, Mr. Shotter?” - -Sam felt that it behooved him to keep his head. He had not the remotest -intention of selling for all the gold in Pittsburgh a house which, in -the first place, did not belong to him and, secondly, was next door to -Kay Derrick. - -“I’m very sorry----” he began. - -Mr. Gunn checked him with an apologetic lift of the hand. - -“I was too abrupt,” he said. “I rushed the thing. A bad habit of mine. -When I was prospecting in Nevada, the boys used to call me Hair-Trigger -Gunn. I ought to have stated my position more clearly.” - -“Oh, I understand your position.” - -“You realise then that this isn’t a house to me; it is a shrine?” - -“Yes, yes; but----” - -“It contains,” said Mr. Gunn with perfect truth, “something very -precious to me.” - -“Yes; but----” - -“It is my boyhood that is enshrined here--my innocent, happy, halcyon -boyhood. I have played games at my mother’s knee in this very room. I -have read tales from the Scriptures with her here. It was here that my -mother, seated at the piano, used to sing--sing----” - -His voice died away again. He blew his nose and turned once more to the -window. But though he was under the impression that he had achieved a -highly artistic aposiopesis, he could hardly have selected a more -unfortunate word to stammer brokenly. Something resembling an electric -thrill ran through Sam. Memory, dormant, had responded to the code word. - -Sing Sing! He knew now where he had seen this man before. - -It is the custom of the Welfare League of America’s most famous -penitentiary to alleviate the monotony of the convict’s lot by giving -periodical performances of plays, produced and acted by the personnel of -the prison. When the enterprising burglar isn’t burgling, in fact, he is -probably memorising the words of some popular lyric for rendition on the -next big night. - -To one of these performances, some eighteen months back, Sam had been -taken by a newspaper friend. The hit of the evening had been this very -Thomas G. Gunn, then a mere number, in the rôle of a senator. - -Mr. Gunn had resumed his address. He was speaking once more of his -mother, and speaking well. But he was not holding his audience. Sam cut -in on his eloquence. - -“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I’m afraid this house is not for sale.” - -“But, Mr. Shotter----” - -“No,” said Sam. “I have a very special reason for wishing to stay here, -and I intend to remain. And now I’m afraid I must ask you----” - -“Suppose I look in this evening and take the matter up again?” pleaded -Mr. Gunn, finding with some surprise that he had been edged out onto the -steps and making a last stand there. - -“It’s no use. Besides, I shan’t be in this evening. I’m dining out.” - -“Will anybody be in?” asked Miss Gunn suddenly, breaking a long silence. - -“Why, yes,” said Sam, somewhat surprised, “the man who works here. Why?” - -“I was only thinking that if we called he might show us over the place.” - -“Oh, I see. Well, good-bye.” - -“But, say now, listen----” - -“Good-bye,” said Sam. - -He closed the door and made his way to the kitchen. Hash, his chair -tilted back against the wall, was smoking a thoughtful pipe. - -“Who was it, Sam?” - -“Somebody wanting to buy the house. Hash, there’s something fishy going -on.” - -“Ur?” - -“Do you remember me pointing out a man to you in that bar in Fleet -Street?” - -“Yes.” - -“Well, it was the same fellow. And do you remember me saying that I was -sure I had seen him before somewhere?” - -“Yes.” - -“Well, I’ve remembered where it was. It was in Sing Sing, and he was -serving a sentence there.” - -Mr. Todhunter’s feet came to the floor with a crash. - -“There’s something darned peculiar about this house, Hash. I slept in it -the night I landed, and there was a fellow creeping around with an -electric torch. And now this man, whom I know to be a crook, puts up a -fake story to make me let him have it. What do you think, Hash?” - -“I’ll tell you what I think,” said Mr. Todhunter, alarmed. “I think I’m -going straight out to buy a good watchdog.” - -“It’s a good idea.” - -“I don’t like these bad characters hanging about. I had a cousin in the -pawnbroking line what was hit on the ’ead by a burglar with a antique -vase. That’s what happened to him, all through hearing a noise in the -night and coming down to see what it was.” - -“But what’s at the back of all this? What do you make of it?” - -“Ah, there you have me,” said Hash frankly. “But that don’t alter the -fact that I’m going to get a dog.” - -“I should. Get something pretty fierce.” - -“I’ll get a dog,” said Hash solemnly, “that’ll feed on nails and bite -his own mother.” - - - - -CHAPTER SIXTEEN - -ASTONISHING STATEMENT OF HASH TODHUNTER - - -§ 1 - -The dinner to which Sam had been bidden that night was at the house of -his old friend, Mr. Willoughby Braddock, in John Street, Mayfair, and at -ten minutes to eight Mr. Braddock was fidgeting about the morning-room, -interviewing his housekeeper, Mrs. Martha Lippett. His guests would be -arriving at any moment, and for the last quarter of an hour, a-twitter -with the nervousness of an anxious host, he had been popping about the -place on a series of tours of inspection, as jumpy, to quote the words -of Sleddon, his butler--whom, by leaping suddenly out from the dimly lit -dining-room, he had caused to bite his tongue and nearly drop a tray of -glasses--as an old hen. The general consensus of opinion below stairs -was that Willoughby Braddock, in his capacity of master of the revels, -was making a thorough pest of himself. - -“You are absolutely certain that everything is all right, Mrs. Lippett?” - -“Everything is quite all right, Master Willie,” replied the housekeeper -equably. - -This redoubtable woman differed from her daughter Claire in being tall -and thin and beaked like an eagle. One of the well-known Bromage family -of Marshott-in-the-Dale, she had watched with complacent pride the -Bromage nose developing in her sons and daughters, and it had always -been a secret grief to her that Claire, her favourite, who inherited so -much of her forceful and determined character, should have been the only -one of her children to take nasally after the inferior, or Lippett, side -of the house. Mr. Lippett had been an undistinguished man, hardly fit to -mate with a Bromage and certainly not worthy to be resembled in -appearance by the best of his daughters. - -“You’re sure there will be enough to eat?” - -“There will be ample to eat.” - -“How about drinks?” said Mr. Braddock, and was reminded by the word of a -grievance which had been rankling within his bosom ever since his last -expedition to the dining room. He pulled down the corners of his white -waistcoat and ran his finger round the inside of his collar. “Mrs. -Lippett,” he said, “I--er--I was outside the dining room just now----” - -“Were you, Master Willie? You must not fuss so. Everything will be quite -all right.” - -“----and I overheard you telling Sleddon not to let me have any -champagne to-night,” said Mr. Braddock, reddening at the outrageous -recollection. - -The housekeeper stiffened. - -“Yes, I did, Master Willie. And your dear mother, if she were still with -us, would have given the very same instructions--after what my daughter -Claire told me of what occurred the other night and the disgraceful -condition you were in. What your dear mother would have said, I don’t -know!” - -Mrs. Lippett’s conversation during the last twenty years of Willoughby -Braddock’s life had dealt largely with speculations as to what his dear -mother would have said of various ventures undertaken or contemplated by -him. - -“You must fight against the craving, Master Willie. Remember your Uncle -George!” - -Mr. Braddock groaned in spirit. One of the things that make these old -retainers so hard to bear is that they are so often walking editions of -the _chroniques scandaleuses_ of the family. It sometimes seemed to Mr. -Braddock that he could not move a step in any direction without having -the awful example of some erring ancestor flung up against him. - -“Well, look here,” he said, with weak defiance, “I want champagne -to-night.” - -“You will have cider, Master Willie.” - -“But I hate cider.” - -“Cider is good for you, Master Willie,” said Mrs. Lippett firmly. - -The argument was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. The -housekeeper left the room, and presently Sleddon, the butler, entered, -escorting Lord Tilbury. - -“Ha, my dear fellow,” said Lord Tilbury, bustling in. - -He beamed upon his host as genially as the Napoleonic cast of his -countenance would permit. He rather liked Willoughby Braddock, as he -rather liked all very rich young men. - -“How are you?” said Mr. Braddock. “Awfully good of you to come at such -short notice.” - -“My dear fellow!” - -He spoke heartily, but he had, as a matter of fact, been a little piqued -at being invited to dinner on the morning of the feast. He considered -that his eminence entitled him to more formal and reverential treatment. -And though he had accepted, having had previous experience of the -excellence of Mr. Braddock’s cook, he felt that something in the nature -of an apology was due to him and was glad that it had been made. - -“I asked you at the last moment,” explained Mr. Braddock, “because I -wasn’t sure till this morning that Sam Shotter would be able to come. I -thought it would be jolly for him, meeting you out of the office, don’t -you know.” - -Lord Tilbury inclined his head. He quite saw the force of the argument -that it would be jolly for anyone, meeting him. - -“So you know young Shotter?” - -“Oh, yes. We were at school together.” - -“A peculiar young fellow.” - -“A great lad.” - -“But--er--a little eccentric, don’t you think?” - -“Oh, Sam always was a bit of nib,” said Mr. Braddock. “At school there -used to be some iron bars across the passage outside our dormitory, the -idea being to coop us up during the night, don’t you know. Sam used to -shin over these and go downstairs to the house master’s study.” - -“With what purpose?” - -“Oh, just to sit.” - -Lord Tilbury was regarding his host blankly. Not a day passed, he was -ruefully reflecting, but he received some further evidence of the light -and unstable character of this young man of whom he had so rashly taken -charge. - -“It sounds a perfectly imbecile proceeding to me,” he said. - -“Oh, I don’t know, you know,” said Mr. Braddock, for the defence. “You -see, occasionally there would be a cigar or a plate of biscuits or -something left out, and then Sam would scoop them. So it wasn’t -altogether a waste of time.” - -Sleddon was entering with a tray. - -“Cocktail?” said Mr. Braddock, taking one himself with a defiant glare -at his faithful servant, who was trying to keep the tray out of his -reach. - -“No, I thank you,” said Lord Tilbury. “My doctor has temporarily -forbidden me the use of alcoholic beverages. I have been troubled of -late with a suspicion of gout.” - -“Tough luck.” - -“No doubt I am better without them. I find cider an excellent -substitute.... Are you expecting many people here to-night?” - -“A fairish number. I don’t think you know any of them--except, of -course, old Wrenn.” - -“Wrenn? You mean the editor of my _Home Companion_?” - -“Yes. He and his niece are coming. She lives with him, you know.” - -Lord Tilbury started as if a bradawl had been thrust through the -cushions of his chair; and for an instant, so powerfully did these words -affect him, he had half a mind to bound at the receding Sleddon and, -regardless of medical warnings, snatch from him that rejected cocktail. -A restorative of some kind seemed to him imperative. - -The statement by Mr. Wrenn, delivered in his office on the morning of -Sam’s arrival, that he possessed no daughter had had the effect of -relieving Lord Tilbury’s mind completely. Francie, generally so unerring -in these matters, had, he decided, wronged Sam in attributing his -occupancy of Mon Repos to a desire to be next door to some designing -girl. And now it appeared that she had been right all the time. - -He was still staring with dismay at his unconscious host when the rest -of the dinner guests began to arrive. They made no impression on his -dazed mind. Through a sort of mist, he was aware of a young man with a -face like a rabbit, another young man with a face like another rabbit; -two small, shingled creatures, one blonde, the other dark, who seemed to -be either wives or sisters of these young men; and an unattached female -whom Mr. Braddock addressed as Aunt Julia. His Lordship remained aloof, -buried in his thoughts and fraternising with none of them. - -Then Sam appeared, and a few moments later Sleddon announced Mr. Wrenn -and Miss Derrick; and Lord Tilbury, who had been examining a picture by -the window, swung round with a jerk. - -In a less prejudiced frame of mind he might have approved of Kay; for, -like so many other great men, he had a nice eye for feminine beauty, and -she was looking particularly attractive in a gold dress which had -survived the wreck of Midways. But now that very beauty merely increased -his disapproval and alarm. He looked at her with horror. He glared as -the good old father in a film glares at the adventuress from whose -clutches he is trying to save his only son. - -At this moment, however, something happened that sent hope and comfort -stealing through his heart. Sam, who had been seized upon by Aunt Julia -and had been talking restively to her for some minutes, now contrived by -an adroit piece of side-stepping to remove himself from her sphere of -influence. He slid swiftly up to Kay, and Lord Tilbury, who was watching -her closely, saw her face freeze. She said a perfunctory word or two, -and then, turning away, began to talk with great animation to one of the -rabbit-faced young men. And Sam, with rather the manner of one who has -bumped into a brick wall in the dark, drifted off and was immediately -gathered in again by Aunt Julia. - -A delightful sensation of relief poured over Lord Tilbury. In the days -of his youth when he had attended subscription dances at the Empress -Rooms, West Kensington, he had sometimes seen that look on the faces of -his partners when he had happened to tread on their dresses. He knew its -significance. Such a look could mean but one thing--that Kay, though -living next door to Sam, did not regard him as one of the pleasant -features of the neighbourhood. In short, felt Lord Tilbury, if there was -anything between these two young people, it was something extremely -one-sided; and he went in to dinner with a light heart, prepared to -enjoy the cooking of Mr. Braddock’s admirable chef as it should be -enjoyed. - -When, on sitting at the table, he found that Kay was on his right, he -was pleased, for he had now come to entertain a feeling of warm esteem -for this excellent and sensible girl. It was his practice never to talk -while he ate caviare; but when that had been consumed in a holy silence -he turned to her, beaming genially. - -“I understand you live at Valley Fields, Miss Derrick.” - -“Yes.” - -“A charming spot.” - -“Very.” - -“The college grounds are very attractive.” - -“Oh, yes.” - -“Have you visited the picture gallery?” - -“Yes, several times.” - -Fish arrived--_sole meunière_. It was Lord Tilbury’s custom never to -talk during the fish course. - -“My young friend Shotter is, I believe, a near neighbour of yours,” he -said, when the _sole meunière_ was no more. - -“He lives next door.” - -“Indeed? Then you see a great deal of him, no doubt?” - -“I never see him.” - -“A most delightful young fellow,” said Lord Tilbury, sipping cider. - -Kay looked at him stonily. - -“Do you think so?” she said. - -Lord Tilbury’s last doubts were removed. He felt that all was for the -best in the best of all possible worlds. Like some joyous reveller out -of Rabelais, he raised his glass with a light-hearted flourish. He -looked as if he were about to start a drinking chorus. - -“Excellent cider, this, Braddock,” he boomed genially. “Most -excellent.” - -Willoughby Braddock, who had been eying his own supply of that wholesome -beverage with sullen dislike, looked at him in pained silence; and Sam, -who had been sitting glumly, listening without interest to the prattle -of one of the shingled girls, took it upon himself to reply. He was -feeling sad and ill used. That incident before dinner had distressed -him. Moreover, only a moment ago he had caught Kay’s eye for an instant -across the table, and it had been cold and disdainful. He welcomed the -opportunity of spoiling somebody’s life, and particularly that of an old -ass like Lord Tilbury, who should have been thinking about the hereafter -instead of being so infernally hearty. - -“I read a very interesting thing about cider the other day,” he said in -a loud, compelling voice that stopped one of the rabbit-faced young men -in mid-anecdote as if he had been smitten with an axe. “It appears that -the farmers down in Devonshire put a dead rat in every barrel----” - -“My dear Shotter!” - -“----to give it body,” went on Sam doggedly. “And the curious thing is -that when the barrels are opened, the rats are always found to have -completely disappeared--showing the power of the juice.” - -A wordless exclamation proceeded from Lord Tilbury. He lowered his -glass. Mr. Braddock was looking like one filled with a sudden great -resolution. - -“I read it in Pyke’s _Home Companion_,” said Sam. “So it must be true.” - -“A little water, please,” said Lord Tilbury stiffly. - -“Sleddon,” said Mr. Braddock in a voice of thunder, “give me some -champagne.” - -“Sir?” quavered the butler. He cast a swift look over his shoulder, as -if seeking the moral support of Mrs. Lippett. But Mrs. Lippett was in -the housekeeper’s room. - -“Sleddon!” - -“Yes, sir,” said the butler meekly. - -Sam was feeling completely restored to his usual sunny self. - -“Talking of Pyke’s _Home Companion_,” he said, “did you take my advice -and read that serial of Cordelia Blair’s, Lord Tilbury?” - -“I did not,” replied His Lordship shortly. - -“You should. Miss Blair is a very remarkable woman.” - -Kay raised her eyes. - -“A great friend of yours, isn’t she?” she said. - -“I would hardly say that. I’ve only met her once.” - -“But you got on very well with her, I heard.” - -“I think I endeared myself to her pretty considerably.” - -“So I understood.” - -“I gave her a plot for a story,” said Sam. - -One of the rabbit-faced young men said that he could never understand -how fellows--or women, for that matter--thought up ideas for stories--or -plays, for the matter of that--or, as a matter of fact, any sort of -ideas, for that matter. - -“This,” Sam explained, “was something that actually happened--to a -friend of mine.” - -The other rabbit-faced young man said that something extremely rummy had -once happened to a pal of his. He had forgotten what it was, but it had -struck him at the time as distinctly rummy. - -“This fellow,” said Sam, “was fishing up in Canada. He lived in a sort -of shack.” - -“A what?” asked the blonde shingled girl. - -“A hut. And tacked up on the wall of the shack was a photograph of a -girl, torn out of an illustrated weekly paper.” - -“Pretty?” asked the dark shingled girl. - -“You bet she was pretty,” said Sam devoutly. “Well, this man spent weeks -in absolute solitude, with not a soul to talk to--nothing, in fact, to -distract his mind from the photograph. The consequence was that he came -to look on this girl as--well, you might say an old friend.” - -“Sleddon,” said Mr. Braddock, “more champagne.” - -“Some months later,” proceeded Sam, “the man came over to England. He -met the girl. And still looking on her as an old friend, you understand, -he lost his head and, two minutes after they had met, he kissed her.” - -“Must have been rather a soppy kind of a silly sort of idiot,” observed -the blonde shingled girl critically. - -“Perhaps you’re right,” agreed Sam. “Still, that’s what happened.” - -“I don’t see where the story comes in,” said one of the rabbit-faced -young men. - -“Well, naturally, you see, not realising the true state of affairs, the -girl was very sore,” said Sam. - -The rabbit-faced young men looked at each other and shook their heads. -The shingled young women raised their eyebrows pityingly. - -“No good,” said the blonde shingled girl. - -“Dud,” said the dark shingled girl. “Who’s going to believe nowadays -that a girl is such a chump as to mind a man kissing her?” - -“Everybody kisses everybody nowadays,” said one of the rabbit-faced -young men profoundly. - -“Girl was making a fuss about nothing,” said the other rabbit-faced -young man. - -“And how does the story end?” asked Aunt Julia. - -“It hasn’t ended,” said Sam. “Not yet.” - -“Sleddon!” said Mr. Braddock, in a quiet, dangerous voice. - - -§ 2 - -It is possible, if you are young and active and in an exhilarated frame -of mind, to walk from John Street, Mayfair, to Burberry Road, Valley -Fields. Sam did so. His frame of mind was extraordinarily exhilarated. -It seemed to him, reviewing recent events, that he had detected in Kay’s -eyes for an instant a look that resembled the first dawning of spring -after a hard winter; and, though not in the costume for athletic feats, -he covered the seven miles that separated him from home at a pace which -drew derisive comment from the proletariat all along the route. The -Surrey-side Londoner is always intrigued by the spectacle of anyone -hurrying, and when that person is in dress clothes and a tall hat he -expresses himself without reserve. - -Sam heard nothing of this ribaldry. Unconscious of the world, he strode -along, brushing through Brixton, hurrying through Herne Hill, and -presently arrived, warm and happy, at the door of Mon Repos. - -He let himself in; and, entering, was aware of a note lying on the hall -table. - -He opened it absently. The handwriting was strange to him, and feminine: - - “DEAR MR. SHOTTER: I should be much obliged if you would ask your - manservant not to chirrup at me out of trees. - - “Yours truly, - - “KAY DERRICK.” - -He had to read this curt communication twice before he was able fully to -grasp its meaning. When he did so a flood of self-pity poured over Sam. -He quivered with commiseration for the hardness of his lot. Here was he, -doing all that a man could to establish pleasant neighbourly relations -with the house next door, and all the while Hash foiling his every -effort by chirruping out of trees from morning till night. It was -bitter, bitter. - -He was standing there, feeding his surging wrath by a third perusal of -the letter, when from the direction of the kitchen there suddenly -sounded a long, loud, agonised cry. It was like the wail of a soul in -torment; and without stopping to pick up his hat, which he had dropped -in the sheer shock of this dreadful sound, he raced down the stairs. - -“’Ullo,” said Hash, looking up from an evening paper. “Back?” - -His placidity amazed Sam. If his ears were any guide, murder had been -done in this room only a few seconds before, and here was this iron man -reading the racing news without having turned a hair. - -“What on earth was that?” - -“What was what?” - -“That noise.” - -“Oh, that was Amy,” said Hash. - -Sam’s eye was diverted by movement in progress in the shadows behind the -table. A vast shape was rising from the floor, revealing itself as an -enormous dog. It finished rising; and having placed its chin upon the -table, stood looking at him with dreamy eyes and a wrinkled forehead, -like a shortsighted person trying to recall a face. - -“Oh, yes,” said Sam, remembering. “So you got him?” - -“Her.” - -“What is he--she?” - -“Gawd knows,” said Hash simply. It was a problem which he himself had -endeavoured idly to solve earlier in the evening. “I’ve named her after -an old aunt of mine. Looks a bit like her.” - -“She must be an attractive woman.” - -“She’s dead.” - -“Perhaps it’s all for the best,” said Sam. He leaned forward and pulled -the animal’s ears in friendly fashion. Amy simpered in a ladylike way, -well pleased. “Would you say she was a bloodhound, Hash?” - -“I wouldn’t say she was anything, not to swear to.” - -“A kind of canine cocktail,” said Sam. “The sort of thing a Cruft’s Show -judge dreams about when he has a nightmare.” - -He observed something lying on the floor; and stooping, found that his -overtures to the animal had caused Kay’s note to slip from his fingers. -He picked it up and eyed Hash sternly. Amy, charmed by his recent -attentions, snuffled like water going down the waste pipe of a bath. - -“Hash!” said Sam. - -“’Ullo?” - -“What the devil,” demanded Sam forcefully, “do you mean by chirruping at -Miss Derrick out of trees?” - -“I only said oo-oo, Sam,” pleaded Mr. Todhunter. - -“You said what?” - -“Oo-oo!” - -“What on earth did you want to say oo-oo for?” - -Much voyaging on the high seas had given Hash’s cheeks the consistency -of teak, but at this point something resembling a blush played about -them. - -“I thought it was the girl.” - -“What girl?” - -“The maid. Clara, ’er name is.” - -“Well, why should you say oo-oo at her?” - -Again that faint, fleeting blush coloured Hash’s face. Before Sam’s -revolted eyes he suddenly looked coy. - -“Well, it’s like this, Sam: The ’ole thing ’ere is, we’re engaged.” - -“What!” - -“Engaged to be married.” - -“Engaged!” - -“Ah!” said Mr. Todhunter. And once more that repellent smirk rendered -his features hideous beyond even Nature’s liberal specifications -concerning them. - -Sam sat down. This extraordinary confession had shaken him deeply. - -“You’re engaged?” - -“Ah!” - -“But I thought you disliked women.” - -“So I do--most of ’em.” - -Another aspect of the matter struck Sam. His astonishment deepened. - -“But how did you manage it so soon?” - -“Soon?” - -“You can’t have seen the girl more than about half a dozen times.” - -Still another mysterious point about this romance presented itself to -Sam. He regarded the great lover with frank curiosity. - -“And what was the attraction?” he asked. “That’s what I can’t -understand.” - -“She’s a nice girl,” argued Hash. - -“I don’t mean in her; I mean in you. What is there about you that could -make this misguided female commit such a rash act? If I were a girl, and -you begged me for one little rose from my hair, I wouldn’t give it to -you.” - -“But----” - -“No,” said Sam firmly, “it’s no use arguing; I just wouldn’t give it to -you. What did she see in you?” - -“Oh, well----” - -“It couldn’t have been your looks--we’ll dismiss that right away, of -course. It couldn’t have been your conversation or your intellect, -because you haven’t any. Then what was it?” - -Mr. Todhunter smirked coyly. - -“Oh, well, I’ve got a way with me, Sam--that’s how it is.” - -“A way?” - -“Ah!” - -“What sort of way?” - -“Oh, just a way.” - -“Have you got it with you now?” - -“Naturally I wouldn’t ’ave it with me now,” said Hash. - -“You keep it for special occasions, eh? Well, you haven’t yet explained -how it all happened.” - -Mr. Todhunter coughed. - -“Well, it was like this, Sam: I see ’er in the garden, and I says -‘Ullo!’ and she says ‘Ullo!’ and then she come to the fence and then I -come to the fence, and she says ‘Ullo!’ and I says ‘Ullo!’ and then I -kiss her.” - -Sam gaped. - -“Didn’t she object?” - -“Object? What would she want to object for? No, indeed! It seemed to -break what you might call the ice, and after that everything got kind of -nice and matey. And then one thing led to another--see what I mean?” - -An aching sense of the injustice of things afflicted Sam. - -“Well, it’s very strange,” he said. - -“What’s strange?” - -“I mean, I knew a man--a fellow--who--er--kissed a girl when he had only -just met her, and she was furious.” - -“Ah,” said Hash, leaping instantly at a plausible solution, “but then ’e -was probably a chap with a face like Gawd-’elpus and hair growing out -of his ears. Naturally, no one wouldn’t like ’aving someone like that -kissing ’em.” - -Sam went upstairs to bed. Before retiring, he looked at himself in the -mirror long and earnestly. He turned his head sideways so that the light -shone upon his ears. He was conscious of a strange despondency. - - -§ 3 - -Kay lay in bed, thinking. Ever and anon a little chuckle escaped her. -She was feeling curiously happy to-night. The world seemed to have -become all of a sudden interesting and amusing. An odd, uncontrollable -impulse urged her to sing. - -She would not in any case have sung for long, for she was a considerate -girl, and the recollection would soon have come to her that there were -people hard by who were trying to get to sleep. But, as a matter of -fact, she sang only a mere bar or two, for even as she began, there came -a muffled banging on the wall--a petulant banging. Hash Todhunter loved -his Claire, but he was not prepared to put up with this sort of thing. -Three doughty buffets he dealt the wall with the heel of a number-eleven -shoe. - -Kay sang no more. She turned out the light and lay in the darkness, her -face set. - -Silence fell upon San Rafael and Mon Repos. And then, from somewhere in -the recesses of the latter, a strange, bansheelike wailing began. Amy -was homesick. - - - - -CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - -ACTIVITIES OF THE DOG AMY - - -The day that followed Mr. Braddock’s dinner party dawned on a world -shrouded in wet white fog. By eight o’clock, however, this had thinned -to a soft, pearly veil that hung clingingly to the tree tops and -lingered about the grass of the lawn in little spiderwebs of moisture. -And when Kay Derrick came out into the garden, a quarter of an hour -later, the September sun was already beginning to pierce the mist with -hints of a wonderful day to come. - -It was the sort of morning which should have bred happiness and quiet -content, but Kay had waked in a mood of irritated hostility which fine -weather could not dispel. What had happened overnight had stung her to a -militant resentment, and sleep had not removed this. - -Possibly this was because her sleep, like that of everyone else in the -neighbourhood, had been disturbed and intermittent. From midnight until -two in the morning the dog Amy had given a spirited imitation of ten -dogs being torn asunder by red-hot pincers. At two, Hash Todhunter had -risen reluctantly from his bed, and arming himself with the -number-eleven shoe mentioned in the previous chapter, had reasoned with -her. This had produced a brief respite, but by a quarter of three large -numbers of dogs were once more being massacred on the premises of Mon -Repos, that ill-named house. - -At three, Sam went down; and being a young man who liked dogs and saw -their point of view, tried diplomacy. This took the shape of the remains -of a leg of mutton and it worked like a charm. Amy finished the leg of -mutton and fell into a surfeited slumber, and peace descended on -Burberry Road. - -Kay paced the gravel path with hard feelings, which were not removed by -the appearance a few moments later of Sam, clad in flannels and a -sweater. Sam, his back to her and his face to the sun, began to fling -himself about in a forceful and hygienic manner; and Kay, interested in -spite of herself, came to the fence to watch him. She was angry with -him, for no girl likes to have her singing criticised by bangs upon the -wall; but nevertheless she could not entirely check a faint feeling of -approval as she watched him. A country-bred girl, Kay liked men to be -strong and of the open air; and Sam, whatever his moral defects, was a -fine physical specimen. He looked fit and hard and sinewy. - -Presently, in the course of a complicated movement which involved -circular swinging from the waist, his eye fell upon her. He straightened -himself and came over to the fence, flushed and tousled and healthy. - -“Good morning,” he said. - -“Good morning,” said Kay coldly. “I want to apologise, Mr. Shotter. I’m -afraid my singing disturbed you last night.” - -“Good Lord!” said Sam. “Was that you? I thought it was the dog.” - -“I stopped directly you banged on the wall.” - -“I didn’t bang on any wall. It must have been Hash.” - -“Hash?” - -“Hash Todhunter, the man who cooks for me--and, oh, yes, who chirrups at -you out of trees. I got your note and spoke to him about it. He -explained that he had mistaken you for your maid, Claire. It’s rather a -romantic story. He’s engaged to her.” - -“Engaged!” - -“That’s just what I said when he told me, and in just that tone of -voice. I was surprised. I gather, however, that Hash is what you would -call a quick worker. He tells me he has a way with him. According to his -story, he kissed her, and after that everything was nice and matey.” - -Kay flushed faintly. - -“Oh!” she said. - -“Yes,” said Sam. - -There was a silence. The San Rafael kitten, which had been playing in -the grass, approached and rubbed a wet head against Kay’s ankle. - -“Well, I must be going in,” said Kay. “Claire is in bed with one of her -neuralgic headaches and I have to cook my uncle’s breakfast.” - -“Oh, no, really? Let me lend you Todhunter.” - -“No, thanks.” - -“Perhaps you’re wise. Apart from dry hash, he’s a rotten cook.” - -“So is Claire.” - -“Really? What a battle of giants it will be when they start cooking for -each other!” - -“Yes.” - -Kay stooped and tickled the kitten under the ear, then walked quickly -toward the house. The kitten, having subjected Sam to a long and -critical scrutiny, decided that he promised little entertainment to an -active-minded cat and galloped off in pursuit of a leaf. Sam sighed and -went in to have a bath. - -Some little time later, the back door of Mon Repos opened from within as -if urged by some irresistible force, and the dog Amy came out to take -the morning air. - -Dogs are creatures of swiftly changing moods. Only a few hours before, -Amy, in the grip of a dreadful depression caused by leaving the public -house where she had spent her girlhood--for, in case the fact is of -interest to anyone, Hash had bought her for five shillings from the -proprietor of the Blue Anchor at Tulse Hill--had been making the night -hideous with her lamentations. Like Rachel, she had mourned and would -not be comforted. But now, to judge from her manner and a certain -jauntiness in her walk, she had completely resigned herself to the life -of exile. She scratched the turf and sniffed the shrubs with the air of -a lady of property taking a stroll round her estates. And when Hash, who -did not easily forgive, flung an egg at her out of the kitchen window so -that it burst before her on the gravel, she ate the remains -lightheartedly, as one who feels that the day is beginning well. - -The only flaw in the scheme of things seemed to her to consist in a -lack of society. By nature sociable, she yearned for company, and for -some minutes roamed the garden in quest of it. She found a snail under a -laurel bush, but snails are reserved creatures, self-centred and -occupied with their own affairs, and this one cut Amy dead, retreating -into its shell with a frigid aloofness which made anything in the nature -of camaraderie out of the question. - -She returned to the path, and became interested in the wooden structure -that ran along it. Rearing herself up to a majestic height and placing -her paws on this, she looked over and immediately experienced all the -emotions of stout Balboa when with eagle eyes he stared at the Pacific. -It is not indeed, too much to say that Amy at that moment felt like some -watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken; for not only -was there a complete new world on the other side of this wooden -structure but on the grass in the middle of it was a fascinating kitten -running round in circles after its tail. - -Amy had seen enough. She would have preferred another dog to chat with; -but failing that, a kitten made an admirable substitute. She adored -kittens. At the Blue Anchor there had been seven, all intimate friends -of hers, who looked upon her body as a recreation ground and her massive -tail as a perpetual object of the chase. With a heave of her powerful -hind legs, she hoisted herself over the fence and, descending on the -other side like the delivery of half a ton of coal, bounded at the -kitten, full of good feeling. And the kitten, after one brief, shocked -stare, charged madly at the fence and scrambled up it into the branches -of the tree from which Hash Todhunter had done his recent chirruping. - -Amy came to the foot of the tree and looked up, perplexed. She could -make nothing of this. It is not given to dogs any more than to men to -see themselves as others see them, and it never occurred to her for an -instant that there was in her appearance anything that might be alarming -to a high-strung young cat. But a dog cannot have a bloodhound-Airedale -father and a Great Dane-Labrador mother without acquiring a certain -physique. The kitten, peering down through the branches, congratulated -itself on a narrow escape from death and climbed higher. And at this -point Kay came out into the garden. - -“Hullo, dog,” said Kay. “What are you doing here?” - -Amy was glad to see Kay. She was a shortsighted dog and took her for the -daughter of the host of the Blue Boar who had been wont to give her her -meals. She left the tree and galloped toward her. And Kay, who had been -brought up with dogs from childhood and knew the correct procedure to be -observed when meeting a strange one, welcomed her becomingly. Hash, -hurrying out on observing Amy leap the fence, found himself a witness of -what practically amounted to a feast of reason and a flow of soul. That -is to say, Amy was lying restfully on her back with her legs in the air -and Kay was thumping her chest. - -“I hope the dog is not annoying you, lady,” said Hash in his best -_preux-chevalier_ manner. - -Kay looked up and perceived the man who had chirruped at her from the -tree. Having contracted to marry into San Rafael, he had ceased to be -an alien and had become something in the nature of one of the family; so -she smiled amiably at him, conscious the while of a passing wonder that -Claire’s heart should have been ensnared by one who, whatever his -merits, was notably deficient in conventional good looks. - -“Not at all, thank you,” she said. “Is he your dog?” - -“She,” corrected Hash. “Yes, miss.” - -“She’s a nice dog.” - -“Yes, miss,” said Hash, but with little heartiness. - -“I hope she won’t frighten my kitten, though. It’s out in the garden -somewhere. I can hear it mewing.” - -Amy could hear the mewing too; and still hopeful that an understanding -might be reached, she at once proceeded to the tree and endeavoured to -jump to the top of it. In this enterprise she fell short by some fifty -feet, but she jumped high enough to send the kitten scrambling into the -upper branches. - -“Oh!” cried Kay, appreciating the situation. - -Hash also appreciated the situation; and being a man of deeds rather -than words, vaulted over the fence and kicked Amy in the lower ribs. -Amy, her womanly feelings wounded, shot back into her own garden, where -she stood looking plaintively on with her forepaws on the fence. -Treatment like this was novel to her, for at the Blue Anchor she had -been something of a popular pet; and it seemed to her that she had -fallen among tough citizens. She expressed a not unnatural pique by -throwing her head back and uttering a loud, moaning cry like an ocean -liner in a fog. Hearing which, the kitten, which had been in two minds -about risking a descent, climbed higher. - -“What shall we do?” said Kay. - -“Shut up!” bellowed Hash. “Not you, miss,” he hastened to add with a -gallant smirk. “I was speaking to the dog.” He found a clod of earth and -flung it peevishly at Amy, who wrinkled her forehead thoughtfully as it -flew by, but made no move. Amy’s whole attitude now was that of one who -has got a front-row seat and means to keep it. “The ’ole thing ’ere,” -explained Hash, “is that that there cat is scared to come down, bein’ -frightened of this ’ere dog.” - -And having cleared up what might otherwise have remained a permanent -mystery, he plucked a blade of grass and chewed reflectively. - -“I wonder,” said Kay, with an ingratiating smile, “if you would mind -climbing up and getting her.” - -Hash stared at her amazedly. Her smile, which was wont to have so much -effect on so many people, left him cold. It was the silliest suggestion -he had ever heard in his life. - -“Me?” he said, marvelling. “You mean me?” - -“Yes.” - -“Climb up this ’ere tree and fetch that there cat?” - -“Yes.” - -“Lady,” said Hash, “do you think I’m an acrobat or something?” - -Kay bit her lips. Then, looking over the fence, she observed Sam -approaching. - -“Anything wrong?” said Sam. - -Kay regarded him with mixed feelings. She had an uneasy foreboding that -it might be injudicious to put herself under an obligation to a young -man so obviously belonging to the class of those who, given an inch, -take an ell. On the other hand, the kitten, mewing piteously, had -plainly got itself into a situation from which only skilled assistance -could release it. She eyed Sam doubtfully. - -“Your dog has frightened my kitten up the tree,” she said. - -A wave of emotion poured over Sam. Only yesterday he had been correcting -the proofs of a short story designed for a forthcoming issue of Pyke’s -_Home Companion_--_Celia’s Airman_, by Louise G. Boffin--and had curled -his lip with superior masculine scorn at what had seemed to him the -naïve sentimentality of its central theme. Celia had quarrelled with her -lover, a young wing commander in the air force, and they had become -reconciled owing to the latter saving her canary. In a mad moment in -which his critical faculties must have been completely blurred, Sam had -thought the situation far-fetched; but now he offered up a silent -apology to Miss Boffin, realising that it was from the sheer, stark -facts of life that she had drawn her inspiration. - -“You want her brought down?” - -“Yes, I do.” - -“Leave it to me,” said Sam. “Leave it absolutely to me--leave the whole -thing entirely and completely to me.” - -“It’s awfully good of you.” - -“Not at all,” said Sam tenderly. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for -you--nothing. I was saying to myself only just now----” - -“I shouldn’t,” said Hash heavily. “Only go breaking your neck. What we -ought to do ’ere is to stand under the tree and chirrup.” - -Sam frowned. - -“You appear to me, Hash,” he said with some severity, “to think that -your mission in life is to chirrup. If you devoted half the time to work -that you do to practicing your chirruping, Mon Repos would be a better -and a sweeter place.” - -He hoisted himself into the tree and began to climb rapidly. So much -progress did he make that when, a few moments later, Kay called to him, -he could not distinguish her words. He scrambled down again. - -“What did you say?” he asked. - -“I only said take care,” said Kay. - -“Oh!” said Sam. - -He resumed his climb. Hash followed him with a pessimistic eye. - -“A cousin of mine broke two ribs playing this sort of silly game,” he -said moodily. “Light-haired feller named George Turner. Had a job -pruning the ellums on a gentleman’s place down Chigwell way. Two ribs he -broke, besides a number of contusions.” - -He was aggrieved to find that Kay was not giving that attention to the -story which its drama and human interest deserved. - -“Two ribs,” he repeated in a louder voice. “Also cuts, scratches and -contusions. Ellums are treacherous things. You think the branches is all -right, but lean your weight on ’em and they snap. That’s an ellum he’s -climbing now.” - -“Oh, be quiet!” said Kay nervously. She was following Sam’s movements as -tensely as ever Celia followed her airman’s. It did look horribly -dangerous, what he was doing. - -“The proper thing we ought to have done ’ere was to have took a blanket -and a ladder and a pole and to have held the blanket spread out and -climbed the ladder and prodded at that there cat with the pole, same as -they do at fires,” said Hash, casting an unwarrantable slur on the -humane methods of the fire brigade. - -“Oh, well done!” cried Kay. - -Sam was now operating in the topmost branches, and the kitten, not being -able to retreat farther, had just come within reach of his groping hand. -Having regarded him suspiciously for some moments and registered a -formal protest against the proceedings by making a noise like an -exploding soda-water bottle, it now allowed itself to be picked up and -buttoned into his coat. - -“Splendid!” shouted Kay. - -“What?” bellowed Sam, peering down. - -“I said splendid!” roared Kay. - -“The lady said splendid!” yelled Hash, in a voice strengthened by long -practice in announcing dinner in the midst of hurricanes. He turned to -Kay with a mournful shaking of the head, his bearing that of the man who -has tried to put a brave face on the matter, but feels the uselessness -of affecting further optimism. “It’s now that’s the dangerous part, -miss,” he said. “The coming down, what I mean. I don’t say the climbing -up of one of these ’ere ellums is safe--not what you would call safe; -but it’s when you’re coming down that the nasty accidents occur. My -cousin was coming down when he broke his two ribs and got all them -contusions. George Turner his name was--a light-haired feller, and he -broke two ribs and had to have seven stitches sewed in him.” - -“Oh!” cried Kay. - -“Ah!” said Hash. - -He spoke with something of the smug self-satisfaction of the prophet -whose predicted disasters come off as per schedule. Half-way down the -tree, Sam, like Mr. Turner, had found proof of the treachery of ellums. -He had rested his weight on a branch which looked solid, felt solid and -should have been solid, and it had snapped under him. For one breathless -moment he seemed to be about to shoot down like Lucifer, then he -snatched at another bough and checked his fall. - -This time the bough held. It was as if the elm, having played its -practical joke and failed, had become discouraged. Hash, with something -of the feelings of a spectator in the gallery at a melodrama who sees -the big scene fall flat, watched his friend and employer reach the -lowest branch and drop safely to the ground. The record of George Turner -still remained a mark for other climbers to shoot at. - -Kay was not a girl who wept easily, but she felt strangely close to -tears. She removed the agitated kitten from Sam’s coat and put it on the -grass, where it immediately made another spirited attempt to climb the -tree. Foiled in this, it raced for the coal cellar and disappeared from -the social life of San Rafael until late in the afternoon. - -“Your poor hands!” said Kay. - -Sam regarded his palms with some surprise. In the excitement of the -recent passage he had been unaware of injury. - -“It’s all right,” he said. “Only skinned a little.” - -Hash would have none of this airy indifference. - -“Ah,” he said, “and the next thing you know you’ll be getting dirt into -’em and going down with lockjaw. I had an uncle what got dirt into a cut -’and, and three days later we were buying our blacks for him.” - -“Oh!” gasped Kay. - -“Two and a half, really,” said Hash. “Because he expired toward -evening.” - -“I’ll run and get a sponge and a basin,” said Kay in agitation. - -“That’s awfully good of you,” said Sam. Oh, woman, he felt, in our hours -of ease uncertain, coy and hard to please; when pain and anguish rack -the brow, a ministering angel thou. And he nearly said as much. - -“You don’t want to do that, miss,” said Hash. “Much simpler for him to -come indoors and put ’em under the tap.” - -“Perhaps that would be better,” agreed Kay. - -Sam regarded his practical-minded subordinate with something of the -injured loathing which his cooking had occasionally caused to appear on -the faces of dainty feeders in the fo’c’sle of the _Araminta_. - -“This isn’t your busy day, Hash, I take it?” he said coldly. - -“Pardon?” - -“I said, you seem to be taking life pretty easily. Why don’t you do a -little work sometimes? If you imagine you’re a lily of the field, look -in the glass and adjust that impression.” - -Hash drew himself up, wounded. - -“I’m only stayin’ ’ere to ’elp and encourage,” he said stiffly. “Now -that what I might call the peril is over, there’s nothing to keep me.” - -“Nothing,” agreed Sam cordially. - -“I’ll be going.” - -“You know your way,” said Sam. He turned to Kay. “Hash is an ass,” he -said. “Put them under the tap, indeed! These hands need careful -dressing.” - -“Perhaps they do,” Kay agreed. - -“They most certainly do.” - -“Shall we go in then?” - -“Without delay,” said Sam. - -“There,” said Kay, some ten minutes later. “I think that will be all -right.” - -The finest efforts of the most skilful surgeon could not have evoked -more enthusiasm from her patient. Sam regarded his bathed and -sticking-plastered hands with an admiration that was almost ecstatic. - -“You’ve had training in this sort of thing,” he said. - -“No.” - -“You’ve never been a nurse?” - -“Never.” - -“Then,” said Sam, “it is pure genius. It is just one of those cases of -an amazing natural gift. You’ve probably saved my life. Oh, yes, you -have! Remember what Hash said about lockjaw.” - -“But I thought you thought Hash was an ass.” - -“In many ways, yes,” said Sam. “But on some points he has a certain -rugged common sense. He----” - -“Won’t you be awfully late for the office?” - -“For the what? Oh! Well, yes, I suppose I ought to be going there. But -I’ve got to have breakfast first.” - -“Well, hurry then. My uncle will be wondering what has become of you.” - -“Yes. What a delightful man your uncle is!” - -“Yes, isn’t he! Good-bye.” - -“I don’t know when I’ve met a man I respected more.” - -“This will be wonderful news for him.” - -“So kind.” - -“Yes.” - -“So patient with me.” - -“I expect he needs to be.” - -“The sort of man it’s a treat to work with.” - -“If you hurry you’ll be able to work with him all the sooner.” - -“Yes,” said Sam; “yes. Er--is there any message I can give him?” - -“No, thanks.” - -“Ah? Well, then look here,” said Sam, “would you care to come and have -lunch somewhere to-day?” - -Kay hesitated. Then her eyes fell on those sticking-plastered hands and -she melted. After all, when a young man has been displaying great -heroism in her service, a girl must do the decent thing. - -“I should like to,” she said. - -“The Savoy Grill at 1:30?” - -“All right. Are you going to bring my uncle along?” - -Sam started. - -“Why--er--that would be splendid, wouldn’t it?” - -“Oh, I forgot. He’s lunching with a man to-day at the Press Club.” - -“Is he?” said Sam. “Is he really?” - -His affection and respect for Mr. Matthew Wrenn increased to an almost -overwhelming degree. He went back to Mon Repos feeling that it was the -presence in the world of men like Matthew Wrenn that gave the lie to -pessimism concerning the future of the human race. - -Kay, meanwhile, in her rôle of understudy to Claire Lippett, who had -just issued a bulletin to the effect that the neuralgic pains were -diminishing and that she hoped to be up and about by midday, proceeded -to an energetic dusting of the house. As a rule, she hated this sort of -work, but to-day a strange feeling of gaiety stimulated her. She found -herself looking forward to the lunch at the Savoy with something of the -eagerness which, as a child, she had felt at the approach of a party. -Reluctant to attribute this to the charms of a young man whom less than -twenty-four hours ago she had heartily disliked, she decided that it -must be the prospect of once more enjoying good cooking in pleasant -surroundings that was causing her excitement. Until recently she had -taken her midday meal at the home of Mrs. Winnington-Bates, and, as with -a celebrated chewing gum, the taste lingered. - -She finished her operations in the dining room and made her way to the -drawing-room. Here the photograph of herself on the mantelpiece -attracted her attention. She picked it up and stood gazing at it -earnestly. - -A sharp double rap on the front door broke in on her reflections. It -was the postman with the second delivery, and he had rapped because -among his letters for San Rafael was one addressed to Kay on which the -writer had omitted to place a stamp. Kay paid the twopence and took the -letter back with her to the drawing-room, hoping that the interest of -its contents would justify the financial outlay. - -Inspecting them, she decided that they did. The letter was from -Willoughby Braddock; and Mr. Braddock, both writing and expressing -himself rather badly, desired to know if Kay could see her way to -marrying him. - - - - -CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - -DISCUSSION AT A LUNCHEON TABLE - - -The little lobby of the Savoy grill-room that opens on to Savoy Court is -a restful place for meditation; and Kay, arriving there at twenty -minutes past one, was glad that she was early. She needed solitude, and -regretted that in another ten minutes Sam would come in and deprive her -of it. Ever since she had received his letter she had been pondering -deeply on the matter of Willoughby Braddock, but had not yet succeeded -in reaching a definite conclusion either in his favour or against him. - -In his favour stood the fact that he had been a pleasant factor in her -life as far back as she could remember. She had bird’s-nested with him -on spring afternoons, she had played the mild card games of childhood -with him on winter evenings, and--as has been stated--she had sat in -trees and criticised with incisive power his habit of wearing bed socks. -These things count. Marrying Willoughby would undeniably impart a sort -of restful continuity to life. On the other hand---- - -“Hullo!” - -A young man, entering the lobby, had halted before her. For a moment she -supposed that it was Sam, come to bid her to the feast; then, emerging -from her thoughts, she looked up and perceived that blot on the body -politic, Claude Winnington-Bates. - -He was looking down at her with a sort of sheepish impudence, as a man -will when he encounters unexpectedly a girl who in the not distant past -has blacked his eye with a heavy volume of theological speculation. He -was a slim young man, dressed in the height of fashion. His mouth was -small and furtive, his eyes flickered with a kind of stupid slyness, and -his hair, which mounted his head in a series of ridges or terraces, -shone with the unguent affected by the young lads of the town. A messy -spectacle. - -“Hullo,” he said. “Waiting for someone?” - -For a brief, wistful instant Kay wished that the years could roll back, -making her young enough to be permitted to say some of the things she -had said to Willoughby Braddock on that summer morning long ago when the -topic of bed socks had come up between them. Being now of an age of -discretion and so debarred from that rich eloquence, she contented -herself with looking through him and saying nothing. - -The treatment was not effective. Claude sat down on the lounge beside -her. - -“I say, you know,” he urged, “there’s no need to be ratty. I mean to -say----” - -Kay abandoned her policy of silence. - -“Mr. Bates,” she said, “do you remember a boy who was at school with you -named Shotter?” - -“Sam Shotter?” said Claude, delighted at her chattiness. “Oh, yes, -rather. I remember Sam Shotter. Rather a bad show, that. I saw him the -other night and he was absolutely----” - -“He’s coming here in a minute or two. And if he finds you sitting on -this lounge and I explain to him that you have been annoying me, he will -probably tear you into little bits. I should go, if I were you.” - -Claude Bates went. Indeed, the verb but feebly expresses the celerity of -his movement. One moment he was lolling on the lounge; the next he had -ceased to be and the lobby was absolutely free from him. Kay, looking -over her shoulder into the grill-room, observed him drop into a chair -and mop his forehead with a handkerchief. - -She returned to her thoughts. - -The advent of Claude had given them a new turn; or, rather, it had -brought prominently before her mind what until then had only lurked at -the back of it--the matter of Willoughby Braddock’s financial status. -Willoughby Braddock was a very rich man; the girl who became Mrs. -Willoughby Braddock would be a very rich woman. She would, that is to -say, step automatically into a position in life where the prowling -Claude Bateses of the world would cease to be an annoyance. And this was -beyond a doubt another point in Mr. Braddock’s favour. - -Willoughby, moreover, was rich in the right way, in the Midways fashion, -with the richness that went with old greystone houses and old green -parks and all the comfortable joy of the English country. He could give -her the kind of life she had grown up in and loved. But on the other -hand---- - -Kay stared thoughtfully before her; and, staring, was aware of Sam -hurrying through the swing door. - -“I’m not late, am I?” said Sam anxiously. - -“No, I don’t think so.” - -“Then come along. Golly, what a corking day!” - -He shepherded her solicitously into the grill-room and made for a table -by the large window that looks out onto the court. A cloakroom waiter, -who had padded silently upon their trail, collected his hat and stick -and withdrew with the air of a leopard that has made a good kill. - -“Nice-looking chap,” said Sam, following him with an appreciative eye. - -“You seem to be approving of everything and everybody this morning.” - -“I am. This is the maddest, merriest day of all the glad New Year, and -you can quote me as saying so. Now then, what is it to be?” - -Having finished his ordering, a task which he approached on a lavish -scale, Sam leaned forward and gazed fondly at his guest. - -“Gosh!” he said rapturously. “I never thought, when I was sitting in -that fishing hut staring at your photograph, that only a month or two -later I’d be having lunch with you at the Savoy.” - -Kay was a little startled. Her brief acquaintance with him had taught -her that Sam was a man of what might be called direct methods, but she -had never expected that he would be quite so direct as this. In his -lexicon there appeared to be no such words as “reticence” and “finesse.” - -“What fishing hut was that?” she asked, feeling rather like a fireman -turning a leaky hose on a briskly burning warehouse full of explosives. - -“You wouldn’t know it. It’s the third on the left as you enter Canada.” - -“Are you fond of fishing?” - -“Yes. But we won’t talk about that, if you don’t mind. Let’s stick to -the photograph.” - -“You keep talking about a photograph and I don’t in the least know what -you mean.” - -“The photograph I was speaking of at the dinner last night.” - -“Oh, the one your friend found--of some girl.” - -“It wasn’t a friend; it was me. And it wasn’t some girl; it was you.” - -Here the waiter intruded, bearing _hors d’œuvres_. Kay lingered over her -selection, but the passage of time had not the effect of diverting her -host from his chosen topic. Kay began to feel that nothing short of an -earthquake would do that, and probably not even an earthquake unless it -completely wrecked the grill-room. - -“I remember the first time I saw that photograph.” - -“I wonder which it was,” said Kay casually. - -“It was----” - -“So long as it wasn’t the one of me sitting in a sea shell at the age of -two, I don’t mind.” - -“It was----” - -“They told me that if I was very good and sat very still, I should see a -bird come out of the camera. I don’t believe it ever did. And why they -let me appear in a costume like that, even at the age of two, I can’t -imagine.” - -“It was the one of you in a riding habit, standing by your horse.” - -“Oh, that one?... I think I will take eggs after all.” - -“Eggs? What eggs?” - -“I don’t know. _Œufs à la_ something, weren’t they?” - -“Wait!” said Sam. He spoke as one groping his way through a maze. -“Somehow or other we seem to have got onto the subject of eggs. I don’t -want to talk about eggs.” - -“Though I’m not positive it was à la something. I believe it was _œufs -Marseillaises_ or some word like that. Anyhow, just call the waiter and -say eggs.” - -Sam called the waiter and said eggs. The waiter appeared not only to -understand but to be gratified. - -“The first time I saw that photograph----” he resumed. - -“I wonder why they call those eggs _œufs Marseillaises_,” said Kay -pensively. “Do you think it’s a special sort of egg they have in -Marseilles.” - -“I couldn’t say. You know,” said Sam, “I’m not really frightfully -interested in eggs.” - -“Have you ever been in Marseilles?” - -“Yes, I went there once with the _Araminta_.” - -“Who is _Araminta_?” - -“The _Araminta_. A tramp steamer I’ve made one or two trips on.” - -“What fun! Tell me all about your trips on the _Araminta_.” - -“There’s nothing to tell.” - -“Was that where you met the man you call Hash?” - -“Yes. He was the cook. Weren’t you surprised,” said Sam, beginning to -see his way, “when you heard that he was engaged to Claire?” - -“Yes,” said Kay, regretting that she had shown interest in tramp -steamers. - -“It just shows----” - -“I suppose the drawback to going about on small boats like that is the -food. It’s difficult to get fresh vegetables, I should think--and eggs.” - -“Life isn’t all eggs,” said Sam desperately. - -The head waiter, a paternal man, halted at the table and inquired if -everything was to the satisfaction of the lady and gentleman. The lady -replied brightly that everything was perfect. The gentleman grunted. - -“They’re very nice here,” said Kay. “They make you feel as if they were -fond of you.” - -“If they weren’t nice to you,” said Sam vehemently, “they ought to be -shot. And I’d like to see the fellow who wouldn’t be fond of you.” - -Kay began to have a sense of defeat, not unlike that which comes to a -scientific boxer who has held off a rushing opponent for several rounds -and feels himself weakening. - -“The first time I saw that photograph,” said Sam, “was one night when I -had come in tired out after a day’s fishing.” - -“Talking about fish----” - -“It was pretty dark in the hut, with only an oil lamp on the table, and -I didn’t notice it at first. Then, when I was having a smoke after -dinner, my eye caught something tacked up on the wall. I went across to -have a look, and, by Jove, I nearly dropped the lamp!” - -“Why?” - -“Why? Because it was such a shock.” - -“So hideous?” - -“So lovely, so radiant, so beautiful, so marvellous.” - -“I see.” - -“So heavenly, so----” - -“Yes? There’s Claude Bates over at that table.” - -The effect of these words on her companion was so electrical that it -seemed to Kay that she had at last discovered a theme which would take -his mind off other and disconcerting topics. Sam turned a dull crimson; -his eyes hardened; his jaw protruded; he struggled for speech. - -“The tick! The blister! The blighter! The worm! The pest! The hound! The -bounder!” he cried. “Where is he?” - -He twisted round in his chair, and having located the companion of his -boyhood, gazed at the back of his ridged and shining head with a -malevolent scowl. Then, taking up a hard and nobby roll, he poised it -lovingly. - -“You mustn’t.” - -“Just this one!” - -“No!” - -“Very well.” - -Sam threw down the roll with a gesture of resignation. Kay looked at him -in alarm. - -“I had no idea you disliked him so much as that!” - -“He ought to have his neck broken.” - -“Haven’t you forgiven him yet for stealing jam sandwiches at school?” - -“It has nothing whatever to do with jam sandwiches. If you really want -to know why I loathe and detest the little beast, it is because he had -the nerve--the audacity--the insolence--the immortal rind -to--to--er”--he choked--“to kiss you. Blast him!” said Sam, wholly -forgetting the dictates of all good etiquette books respecting the kind -of language suitable in the presence of the other sex. - -Kay gasped. It is embarrassing for a girl to find what she had supposed -to be her most intimate private affairs suddenly become, to all -appearance, public property. - -“How do you know that?” she exclaimed. - -“Your uncle told me this morning.” - -“He had no business to.” - -“Well, he did. And what it all boils down to,” said Sam, “is this--will -you marry me?” - -“Will I--what?” - -“Marry me.” - -For a moment Kay stared speechlessly; then, throwing her head back, she -gave out a short, sharp scream of laughter which made a luncher at the -next table stab himself in the cheek with an oyster fork. The luncher -looked at her reproachfully. So did Sam. - -“You seem amused,” he said coldly. - -“Of course I’m amused,” said Kay. - -Her eyes were sparkling, and that little dimple on her chin which had so -excited Sam’s admiration when seen in photographic reproduction had -become a large dimple. Sam tickled her sense of humour. He appealed to -her in precisely the same way as the dog Amy had appealed to her in the -garden that morning. - -“I don’t see why,” said Sam. “There’s nothing funny about it. It’s -monstrous that you should be going about at the mercy of every bounder -who takes it into his head to insult you. The idea of a fellow with -marcelled hair having the crust to----” - -He paused. He simply could not mention that awful word again. - -“----kiss me?” said Kay. “Well, you did.” - -“That,” said Sam with dignity, “was different. That was--er--well, in -short, different. The fact remains that you need somebody to look after -you, to protect you.” - -“And you chivalrously offer to do it? I call that awfully nice of you, -but--well, don’t you think it’s rather absurd?” - -“I see nothing absurd in it at all.” - -“How many times have you seen me in your life?” - -“Thousands!” - -“What? Oh, I was forgetting the photograph. But do photographs really -count?” - -“Yes.” - -“Mine can’t have counted much, if the first thing you did was to tell -your friend Cordelia Blair about it and say she might use it as a -story.” - -“I didn’t. I only said that at dinner to--to introduce the subject. As -if I would have dreamed of talking about you to anybody! And she isn’t a -friend of mine.” - -“But you kissed her.” - -“I did not kiss her.” - -“My uncle insists that you did. He says he heard horrible sounds of -Bohemian revelry going on in the outer office and then you came in and -said the lady was soothed.” - -“Your uncle talks too much,” said Sam severely. - -“Just what I was thinking a little while ago. But still, if he tells you -my secrets, it’s only fair that he should tell me yours.” - -Sam swallowed somewhat convulsively. - -“If you really want to know what happened, I’ll tell you. I did not kiss -that ghastly Blair pipsqueak. She kissed me.” - -“What?” - -“She kissed me,” repeated Sam doggedly. “I had been laying it on pretty -thick about how much I admired her work, and suddenly she said, ‘Oh, you -dear boy!’ and flung her loathsome arms round my neck. What could I do? -I might have uppercut her as she bored in, but, short of that, there -wasn’t any way of stopping her.” - -A look of shocked sympathy came into Kay’s face. - -“It’s monstrous,” she said, “that you should be going about at the mercy -of every female novelist who takes it into her head to insult you. You -need somebody to look after you, to protect you----” - -Sam’s dignity, never a very durable article, collapsed. - -“You’re quite right,” he said. “Well then----” - -Kay shook her head. - -“No, I’m not going to volunteer. Whatever your friend Cordelia Blair may -say in her stories, girls don’t marry men they’ve only seen twice in -their lives.” - -“This is the fourth time you’ve seen me.” - -“Or even four times.” - -“I knew a man in America who met a girl at a party one night and married -her next morning.” - -“And they were divorced the week after, I should think. No, Mr. -Shotter----” - -“You may call me Sam.” - -“I suppose I ought to after this. No, Sam, I will not marry you. Thanks -ever so much for asking me, of course.” - -“Not at all.” - -“I don’t know you well enough.” - -“I feel as if I had known you all my life.” - -“Do you?” - -“I feel as if we had been destined for each other from the beginning of -time.” - -“Perhaps you were a king in Babylon and I was a Christian slave.” - -“I shouldn’t wonder. And what is more, I’ll tell you something. When I -was in America, before I had ever dreamed of coming over to England, a -palmist told me that I was shortly about to take a long journey, at the -end of which I should meet a fair girl.” - -“You can’t believe what those palmists say.” - -“Ah, but everything else that this one told me was absolutely true.” - -“Yes?” - -“Yes. She said I had a rare, spiritual nature and a sterling character -and was beloved by all; but that people meeting me for the first time -sometimes failed to appreciate me----” - -“I certainly did.” - -“----because I had such hidden depths.” - -“Oh, was that the reason?” - -“Well, that shows you.” - -“Did she tell you anything else?” - -“Something about bewaring of a dark man, but nothing of importance. -Still, I don’t call it a bad fifty cents’ worth.” - -“Did she say that you were going to marry this girl?” - -“She did--explicitly.” - -“Then the idea, as I understand it, is that you want me to marry you so -that you won’t feel you wasted your fifty cents. Is that it?” - -“Not precisely. You are overlooking the fact that I love you.” He looked -at her reproachfully. “Don’t laugh.” - -“Was I laughing?” - -“You were.” - -“I’m sorry. I oughtn’t to mock a strong man’s love, ought I?” - -“You oughtn’t to mock anybody’s love. Love’s a very wonderful thing. It -even made Hash look almost beautiful for a moment, and that’s going -some.” - -“When is it going to make you look beautiful?” - -“Hasn’t it?” - -“Not yet.” - -“You must be patient.” - -“I’ll try to be, and in the meantime let us face this situation. Do you -know what a girl in a Cordelia Blair story would do if she were in my -place?” - -“Something darned silly, I expect.” - -“Not at all. She would do something very pretty and touching. She would -look at the man and smile tremulously and say, ‘I’m sorry, so--so sorry. -You have paid me the greatest compliment a man can pay a woman. But it -cannot be. So shall we be pals--just real pals?’” - -“And he would redden and go to Africa, I suppose. - -“No. I should think he would just hang about and hope that some day she -might change her mind. Girls often do, you know.” - -She smiled and put out her hand. Sam, with a cold glance at the head -waiter, whom he considered to be standing much too near and looking much -too paternal, took it. He did more--he squeezed it. And an elderly -gentleman of Napoleonic presence, who had been lunching with a cabinet -minister in the main dining-room and was now walking through the court -on his way back to his office, saw the proceedings through the large -window and halted, spellbound. - -For a long instant he stood there, gaping. He saw Kay smile. He saw Sam -take her hand. He saw Sam smile. He saw Sam hold her hand. And then it -seemed to him that he had seen enough. Abandoning his intention of -walking down Fleet Street, he hailed a cab. - -“There’s Lord Tilbury,” said Kay, looking out. - -“Yes?” said Sam. He was not interested in Lord Tilbury. - -“Going back to work, I suppose. Isn’t it about time you were?” - -“Perhaps it is. You wouldn’t care to come along and have a chat with -your uncle?” - -“I may look in later. Just now I want to go to that messenger-boy office -in Northumberland Avenue and send off a note.” - -“Important?” - -“It is, rather,” said Kay. “Willoughby Braddock wanted me to do -something, and now I find that I shan’t be able to.” - - - - -CHAPTER NINETEEN - -LORD TILBURY ENGAGES AN ALLY - - -§ 1 - -Although Lord Tilbury had not seen much of what had passed between Kay -and Sam at the luncheon table, he had seen quite enough; and as he drove -back to Tilbury House in his cab he was thinking hard and bitter -thoughts of the duplicity of the modern girl. Here, he reflected, was -one who, encountered at dinner on a given night, had as good as stated -in set terms that she thoroughly disliked Sam Shotter. And on the very -next afternoon, there she was, lunching with this same Sam Shotter, -smiling at this same Sam Shotter and allowing this same Shotter to press -her hand. It all looked very black to Lord Tilbury, and the only -solution that presented itself to him was that the girl’s apparent -dislike of Sam on the previous night had been caused by a lovers’ -quarrel. He knew all about lovers’ quarrels, for his papers were full of -stories, both short and in serial form, that dealt with nothing else. -Oh, woman, woman! about summed up Lord Tilbury’s view of the affair. - -He was, he perceived, in an extraordinarily difficult position. As he -had explained to his sister Frances on the occasion of Sam’s first visit -to the Mammoth Publishing Company, a certain tactfulness and diplomacy -in the handling of that disturbing young man were essential. He had not -been able, during his visit to America, to ascertain exactly how Sam -stood in the estimation of his uncle. The impression Lord Tilbury had -got was that Mr. Pynsent was fond of him. If, therefore, any -unpleasantness should occur which might lead to a breach between Sam and -the Mammoth Publishing Company, Mr. Pynsent might be expected to take -his nephew’s side, and this would be disastrous. Any steps, accordingly, -which were to be taken in connection with foiling the young man’s love -affair must be taken subtly and with stealth. - -That such steps were necessary it never occurred to Lord Tilbury for an -instant to doubt. His only standard when it came to judging his fellow -creatures was the money standard, and it would have seemed ridiculous to -him to suppose that any charm or moral worth that Kay might possess -could neutralise the fact that she had not a penny in the world. He took -it for granted that Mr. Pynsent would see eye to eye with him in this -matter. - -In these circumstances the helplessness of his position tormented him. -He paced the room in an agony of spirit. The very first move in his -campaign must obviously be to keep a watchful eye on Sam and note what -progress this deplorable affair of his was having. But Sam was in Valley -Fields and he was in London. What he required, felt Lord Tilbury, as he -ploughed to and fro over the carpet, his thumbs tucked into the armholes -of his waistcoat, his habit when in thought, was an ally. But what ally? - -A secret-service man. But what secret-service man? A properly -accredited spy, who, introduced by some means into the young man’s -house, could look, listen and make daily reports on his behaviour. - -But what spy? - -And then, suddenly, as he continued to perambulate, inspiration came to -Lord Tilbury. It seemed to him that the job in hand might have been -created to order for young Pilbeam. - -Among the numerous publications which had their being in Tilbury House -was that popular weekly, _Society Spice_, a paper devoted to the -exploitation of the shadier side of London life and edited by one whom -the proprietor of the Mammoth had long looked on as the brightest and -most promising of his young men--Percy Pilbeam, to wit, as enterprising -a human ferret as ever wrote a Things-We-Want-to-Know-Don’t-You-Know -paragraph. Young Pilbeam would handle this business as it should be -handled. - -It was the sort of commission which he had undertaken before and carried -through with complete success, reflected Lord Tilbury, recalling how -only a few months back Percy Pilbeam, in order to obtain material for -his paper, had gone for three weeks as valet to one of the smart -set--the happy conclusion of the venture being that admirable -Country-House Cesspools series which had done so much for the rural -circulation of _Society Spice_. - -His hand was on the buzzer to summon this eager young spirit, when a -disturbing thought occurred to him, and instead of sending for Pilbeam, -he sent for Sam Shotter. - -“Ah, Shotter, I--ah---- Do you happen to know young Pilbeam?” said His -Lordship. - -“The editor of _Society Spice_?” - -“Exactly.” - -“I know him by sight.” - -“You know him by sight, eh? Ah? You know him, eh? Exactly. Quite so. I -was only wondering. A charming young fellow. You should cultivate his -acquaintance. That is all, Shotter.” - -Sam, with a passing suspicion that the strain of conducting a great -business had been too much for his employer, returned to his work; and -Lord Tilbury, walking with bent brows to the window, stood looking out, -once more deep in thought. - -The fact that Sam was acquainted with Pilbeam was just one of those -little accidents which so often upset the brilliantly conceived plans of -great generals, and it left His Lordship at something of a loss. Pilbeam -was a man he could have trusted in a delicate affair like this, and now -that he was ruled out, where else was an adequate agent to be found? - -It was at this point in his meditations that his eyes, roving -restlessly, were suddenly attracted by a sign on a window immediately -opposite: - - THE TILBURY DETECTIVE AGENCY, LTD. - J. Sheringham Adair, Mgr. - Large and Efficient Staff - -Such was the sign, and Lord Tilbury read and re-read it with bulging -eyes. It thrilled him like a direct answer to prayer. - -A moment later he had seized his hat, and without pausing to wait for -the lift, was leaping down the stairs like some chamois of the Alps that -bounds from crag to crag. He reached the lobby and, at a rate of speed -almost dangerous in a man of his build and sedentary habits, whizzed -across the street. - - -§ 2 - -Although, with the single exception of a woman who had lost her -Pekingese dog, there had never yet been a client on the premises of the -Tilbury Detective Agency, it was Chimp Twist’s practice to repair daily -to his office and remain there for an hour or two every afternoon. If -questioned, he would have replied that he might just as well be there as -anywhere; and he felt, moreover, that it looked well for him to be seen -going in and out--a theory which was supported by the fact that only a -couple of days back the policeman on the beat had touched his helmet to -him. To have policemen touching themselves on the helmet instead of him -on the shoulder was a novel and agreeable experience to Chimp. - -This afternoon he was sitting, as usual, with the solitaire pack laid -out on the table before him, but his mind was not on the game. He was -musing on Soapy Molloy’s story of his failure to persuade Sam to -evacuate Mon Repos. - -To an extent, this failure had complicated matters; and yet there was a -bright side. To have walked in and collected the late Edward Finglass’ -legacy without let or hindrance would have been agreeable; but, on the -other hand, it would have involved sharing with Soapy and his bride; -and Chimp was by nature one of those men who, when there is money about, -instinctively dislike seeing even a portion of it get away from them. It -seemed to him that a man of his admitted ingenuity might very well -evolve some scheme by which the Molloy family could be successfully -excluded from all participation in the treasure. - -It only required a little thought, felt Chimp; and he was still thinking -when a confused noise without announced the arrival of Lord Tilbury. - -The opening of the door was followed by a silence. Lord Tilbury was not -built for speed, and the rapidity with which he had crossed the street -and mounted four flights of stairs had left him in a condition where he -was able only to sink into a chair and pant like a spent seal. As for -Chimp, he was too deeply moved to speak. Even when lying back in a chair -and saying “Woof!” Lord Tilbury still retained the unmistakable look of -one to whom bank managers grovel, and the sudden apparition of such a -man affected him like a miracle. He felt as if he had been fishing idly -for minnows and landed a tarpon. - -Being, however, a man of resource, he soon recovered himself. Placing a -foot on a button beneath the table, he caused a sharp ringing to pervade -the office. - -“Excuse me,” he said, politely but with a busy man’s curtness, as he -took up the telephone. “Yes? Yes? Yes, this is the Tilbury Detective -Agency.... Scotland Yard? Right, I’ll hold the wire.” - -He placed a hand over the transmitter and turned to Lord Tilbury with a -little rueful grimace. - -“Always bothering me,” he said. - -“Woof!” said Lord Tilbury. - -Mr. Twist renewed his attention to the telephone. - -“Hullo!... Sir John? Good afternoon.... Yes.... Yes.... We are doing our -best, Sir John. We are always anxious to oblige headquarters.... Yes.... -Yes.... Very well, Sir John. Good-bye.” - -He replaced the receiver and was at Lord Tilbury’s disposal. - -“If the Yard would get rid of their antiquated system and give more -scope to men of brains,” he said, not bitterly but with a touch of -annoyance, “they would not always have to be appealing to us to help -them out. Did you know that a man cannot be a detective at Scotland Yard -unless he is over a certain height?” - -“You surprise me,” said Lord Tilbury, who was now feeling better. - -“Five-foot-nine, I believe it is. Could there be an absurder -regulation?” - -“It sounds ridiculous.” - -“And is,” said Chimp severely. “I am five-foot-seven myself. Wilbraham -and Donahue, the best men on my staff, are an inch and half an inch -shorter. You cannot gauge brains by height.” - -“No, indeed,” said Lord Tilbury, who was five-feet-six. “Look at -Napoleon! And Nelson!” - -“Exactly,” said Chimp. “Battling Nelson. A very good case in point. And -Tom Sharkey was a short man too.... Well, what was it you wished to -consult me about, Mr.---- I have not your name.” - -Lord Tilbury hesitated. - -“I take it that I may rely on your complete discretion, Mr. Adair?” - -“Nothing that you tell me in this room will go any farther,” said Chimp, -with dignity. - -“I am Lord Tilbury,” said His Lordship, looking like a man unveiling a -statue of himself. - -“The proprietor of the joint across the way?” - -“Exactly,” said Lord Tilbury a little shortly. - -He had expected his name to cause more emotion, and he did not like -hearing the Mammoth Publishing Company described as “the joint across -the way.” - -He would have been gratified had he known that his companion had -experienced considerable emotion and that it was only by a strong effort -that he had contrived to conceal it. He might have been less pleased if -he had been aware that Chimp was confidently expecting him to reveal -some disgraceful secret which would act as the foundation for future -blackmail. For although, in establishing his detective agency, Chimp -Twist had been animated chiefly by the desire to conceal his more -important movements, he had never lost sight of the fact that there are -possibilities in such an institution. - -“And what can I do for you, Lord Tilbury?” he asked, putting his finger -tips together. - -His Lordship bent closer. - -“I want a man watched.” - -Once again his companion was barely able to conceal his elation. This -sounded exceptionally promising. Though only an imitation private -detective, Chimp Twist had a genuine private detective’s soul. He could -imagine but one reason why men should want men watched. - -“A boy on the staff of Tilbury House.” - -“Ah!” said Chimp, more convinced than ever. “Good-looking fellow, I -suppose?” - -Lord Tilbury considered. He had never had occasion to form an opinion of -Sam’s looks. - -“Yes,” he said. - -“One of these lounge lizards, eh? One of these parlour tarantulas? I -know the sort--know ’em well. One of these slithery young-feller-me-lads -with educated feet and shiny hair. And when did the dirty work start?” - -“I beg your pardon?” - -“When did you first suspect this young man of alienating Lady Tilbury’s -affections?” - -“Lady Tilbury? I don’t understand you. I am a widower.” - -“Eh? Then what’s this fellow done?” said Chimp, feeling at sea again. - -Lord Tilbury coughed. - -“I had better tell you the whole position. This boy is the nephew of a -business acquaintance of mine in America, with whom I am in the process -of conducting some very delicate negotiations. He, the boy, is over here -at the moment, working on my staff, and I am, you will understand, -practically responsible to his uncle for his behaviour. That is to say, -should he do anything of which his uncle might disapprove, the blame -will fall on me, and these negotiations--these very delicate -negotiations--will undoubtedly be broken off. My American acquaintance -is a peculiar man, you understand.” - -“Well?” - -“Well, I have just discovered that the boy is conducting a clandestine -love affair with a girl of humble circumstances who resides in the -suburb.” - -“A tooting tooti-frooti,” translated Chimp, nodding. “I see.” - -“A what?” asked Lord Tilbury, a little blankly. - -“A belle of Balham--Bertha from Brixton.” - -“She lives at Valley Fields. And this boy Shotter has taken the house -next door to her. I beg your pardon?” - -“Nothing,” said Chimp in a thick voice. - -“I thought you spoke.” - -“No.” Chimp swallowed feverishly. “Did you say Shotter?” - -“Shotter.” - -“Taken a house in Valley Fields?” - -“Yes. In Burberry Road. Mon Repos is the name.” - -“Ah!” said Chimp, expelling a deep breath. - -“You see the position? All that can be done at present is to institute a -close watch on the boy. It may be that I have allowed myself to become -unduly alarmed. Possibly he does not contemplate so serious a step as -marriage with this young woman. Nevertheless, I should be decidedly -relieved if I felt that there was someone in his house watching his -movements and making daily reports to me.” - -“I’ll take this case,” said Chimp. - -“Good! You will put a competent man on it?” - -“I wouldn’t trust it to one of my staff, not even Wilbraham or Donahue. -I’ll take it on myself.” - -“That is very good of you, Mr. Adair.” - -“A pleasure,” said Chimp. - -“And now arises a difficult point. How do you propose to make your entry -into young Shotter’s household?” - -“Easy as pie. Odd-job man.” - -“Odd-job man?” - -“They always want odd-job men down in the suburbs. Fellows who’ll do the -dirty work that the help kick at. Listen here, you tell this young man -that I’m a fellow that once worked for you and ask him to engage me as a -personal favour. That’ll cinch it. He won’t like to refuse the -boss--what I mean.” - -“True,” said Lord Tilbury. “True. But it will necessitate something in -the nature of a change of costumes,” he went on, looking at the other’s -shining tweeds. - -“Don’t you fret. I’ll dress the part.” - -“And what name would you suggest taking? Not your own, of course?” - -“I’ve always called myself Twist before.” - -“Twist? Excellent! Then suppose you come to my office in half an hour’s -time.” - -“Sure!” - -“I am much obliged, Mr. Adair.” - -“Not at all,” said Chimp handsomely. “Not a-tall! Don’t mention it. Only -too pleased.” - - -§ 3 - -Sam, when the summons came for him to go to his employer’s office, was -reading with no small complacency a little thing of his own in the issue -of Pyke’s _Home Companion_ which would be on the bookstalls next -morning. It was signed Aunt Ysobel, and it gave some most admirable -counsel to Worried (Upper Sydenham) who had noticed of late a growing -coldness toward her on the part of her betrothed. - -He had just finished reading this, marvelling, as authors will when they -see their work in print, at the purity of his style and the soundness of -his reasoning, when the telephone rang and he learned that Lord Tilbury -desired his presence. He hastened to the holy of holies and found there -not only His Lordship but a little man with a waxed moustache, to which -he took an instant dislike. - -“Ah, Shotter,” said Lord Tilbury. - -There was a pause. Lord Tilbury, one hand resting on the back of his -chair, the fingers of the other in the fold of his waistcoat, stood -looking like a Victorian uncle being photographed. The little man -fingered the waxed moustache. And Sam glanced from Lord Tilbury to the -moustache inquiringly and with distaste. He had never seen a moustache -he disliked more. - -“Ah, Shotter,” said Lord Tilbury, “this is a man named Twist, who was at -one time in my employment.” - -“Odd-job man,” interpolated the waxed-moustached one. - -“As odd-job man,” said Lord Tilbury. - -“Ah?” said Sam. - -“He is now out of work.” - -Sam, looking at Mr. Twist, considered that this spoke well for the -rugged good sense of the employers of London. - -“I have nothing to offer him myself,” continued Lord Tilbury, “so it -occurred to me that you might possibly have room for him in your new -house.” - -“Me?” said Sam. - -“I should take it as a personal favour to myself if you would engage -Twist. I naturally dislike the idea of an old and--er--faithful employee -of mine being out of work.” - -Mr. Twist’s foresight was justified. Put in this way, the request was -one that Sam found it difficult to refuse. - -“Oh, well, in that case----” - -“Excellent! No doubt you will find plenty of little things for him to do -about your house and garden.” - -“He can wash the dog,” said Sam, inspired. The question of the bathing -of Amy was rapidly thrusting itself into the forefront of the domestic -politics of Mon Repos. - -“Exactly! And chop wood and run errands and what not.” - -“There’s just one thing,” said Sam, who had been eying his new assistant -with growing aversion. “That moustache must come off.” - -“What?” cried Chimp, stricken to the core. - -“Right off at the roots,” said Sam sternly. “I will not have a thing -like that about the place, attracting the moths.” - -Lord Tilbury sighed. He found this young man’s eccentricities -increasingly hard to bear. With that sad wistfulness which the Greeks -called _pathos_ and the Romans _desiderium_, he thought of the happy -days, only a few weeks back, when he had been a peaceful, care-free man, -ignorant of Sam’s very existence. He had had his troubles then, no -doubt; but how small and trivial they seemed now. - -“I suppose Twist will shave off his moustache if you wish it,” he said -wearily. - -Chancing to catch that eminent private investigator’s eye, he was -surprised to note its glazed and despairing expression. The man had the -air of one who has received a death sentence. - -“Shave it?” quavered Chimp, fondling the growth tenderly. “Shave my -moustache?” - -“Shave it,” said Sam firmly. “Hew it down. Raze it to the soil and sow -salt upon the foundations.” - -“Very good, sir,” said Chimp lugubriously. - -“That is settled then,” said Lord Tilbury, relieved. “So you will enter -Mr. Shotter’s employment immediately, Twist.” - -Chimp nodded a mournful nod. - -“You will find Twist thoroughly satisfactory, I am sure. He is quiet, -sober, respectful and hard-working.” - -“Ah, that’s bad,” said Sam. - -Lord Tilbury heaved another sigh. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY - -TROUBLE IN THE SYNDICATE - - -When Chimp Twist left Tilbury House, he turned westward along the -Embankment, for he had an appointment to meet his colleagues of the -syndicate at the Lyons tea shop in Green Street, Leicester Square. The -depression which had swept over him on hearing Sam’s dreadful edict had -not lasted long. Men of Mr. Twist’s mode of life are generally -resilient. They have to be. - -After all, he felt, it would be churlish of him, in the face of this -almost supernatural slice of luck, to grumble at the one crumpled rose -leaf. Besides, it would only take him about a couple of days to get away -with the treasure of Mon Repos, and then he could go into retirement and -grow his moustache again. For there is this about moustaches, as about -whiskers--though of these Mr. Twist, to do him justice, had never been -guilty--that, like truth, though crushed to the earth, they will rise. A -little patience and his moustache will rise on stepping-stones of its -dead self to higher things. Yes, when the fields were white with daisies -it would return. Pondering thus, Chimp Twist walked briskly to the end -of the Embankment, turned up Northumberland Avenue, and reaching his -destination, found Mr. and Mrs. Molloy waiting for him at a table in a -far corner. - -It was quiet in the tea shop at this hour, and the tryst had been -arranged with that fact in mind. For this was in all essentials a board -meeting of the syndicate, and business men and women do not like to have -their talk interrupted by noisy strangers clamorous for food. With the -exception of a woman in a black silk dress with bugles who, incredible -as it may seem, had ordered cocoa and sparkling limado simultaneously -and was washing down a meal of Cambridge sausages and pastry with -alternate draughts of both liquids, the place was empty. - -Soapy and his bride, Chimp perceived, were looking grave, even gloomy; -and in the process of crossing the room he forced his own face into an -expression in sympathy with theirs. It would not do, he realised, to -allow his joyous excitement to become manifest at what was practically a -post-mortem. For the meeting had been convened to sit upon the failure -of his recent scheme and he suspected the possibility of a vote of -censure. He therefore sat down with a heavy seriousness befitting the -occasion; and having ordered a cup of coffee, replied to his companions’ -questioning glances with a sorrowful shake of the head. - -“Nothing stirring,” he said. - -“You haven’t doped out another scheme,” said Dolly, bending her shapely -brows in a frown. - -“Not yet.” - -“Then,” demanded the lady heatedly, “where does this -sixty-five-thirty-five stuff come in? That’s what I’d like to know.” - -“Me, too,” said Mr. Molloy with spirit. It occurred to Chimp that a -little informal discussion must have been indulged in by his colleagues -of the board previous to his arrival, for their unanimity was wonderful. - -“You threw a lot of bull about being the brains of the concern,” said -Dolly accusingly, “and said that, being the brains of the concern, you -had ought to be paid highest. And now you blow in and admit that you -haven’t any more ideas than a rabbit.” - -“Not so many,” said Mr. Molloy, who liked rabbits and had kept them as a -child. - -Chimp stirred his coffee thoughtfully. He was meditating on what a -difference a very brief time can make in the fortunes of man. But for -that amazing incursion of Lord Tilbury, he would have been approaching -this interview in an extremely less happy frame of mind. For it was -plain that the temper of the shareholders was stormy. - -“You’re quite right, Dolly,” he said humbly, “quite right. I’m not so -good as I thought I was.” - -This handsome admission should have had the effect proverbially -attributed to soft words, but it served only to fan the flame. - -“Then where do you get off with this sixty-five-thirty-five?” - -“I don’t,” said Chimp. “I don’t, Dolly.” The man’s humility was -touching. “That’s all cold. We split fifty-fifty, that’s what we do.” - -Soft words may fail, but figures never. Dolly uttered a cry that caused -the woman in the bugles to spill her cocoa, and Mr. Molloy shook as with -a palsy. - -“Now you’re talking,” said Dolly. - -“Now,” said Mr. Molloy, “you are talking.” - -“Well, that’s that,” said Chimp. “Now let’s get down to it and see what -we can do.” - -“I might go to the joint again and have another talk with that guy,” -suggested Mr. Molloy. - -“No sense in that,” said Chimp, somewhat perturbed. It did not at all -suit his plans to have his old friend roaming about in the neighbourhood -of Mon Repos while he was in residence. - -“I don’t know so much,” said Mr. Molloy thoughtfully. “I didn’t seem to -get going quite good that last time. The fellow had me out on the -sidewalk before I could pull a real spiel. If I tried again----” - -“It wouldn’t be any use,” said Chimp. “This guy Shotter told you himself -he had a special reason for staying on.” - -“You don’t think he’s wise to the stuff being there?” said Dolly, -alarmed. - -“No, no,” said Chimp. “Nothing like that. There’s a dame next door he’s -kind of stuck on.” - -“How do you know?” - -Chimp gulped. He felt like a man who discovers himself on the brink of a -precipice. - -“I--I was snooping around down there and I saw ’em,” he said. - -“What were you doing down there?” asked Dolly suspiciously. - -“Just looking around, Dolly, just looking around.” - -“Oh?” - -The silence which followed was so embarrassing to a sensitive man that -Chimp swallowed his coffee hastily and rose. - -“Going?” said Mr. Molloy coldly. - -“Just remembered I’ve got a date.” - -“When do we meet again?” - -“No sense in meeting for the next day or two.” - -“Why not?” - -“Well, a fellow wants time to think. I’ll give you a ring.” - -“You’ll be at your office to-morrow?” - -“Not to-morrow.” - -“Day after?” - -“Maybe not the day after. I’m moving around some.” - -“Where?” - -“Oh, all around.” - -“Doing what?” - -Chimp’s self-control gave way. - -“Say, what’s eating you?” he demanded. “Where do you get this stuff of -prying and poking into a man’s affairs? Can’t a fellow have a little -privacy sometimes?” - -“Sure!” said Mr. Molloy. “Sure!” - -“Sure!” said Mrs. Molloy. “Sure!” - -“Well, good-bye,” said Chimp. - -“Good-bye,” said Mr. Molloy. - -“God bless you,” said Mrs. Molloy, with a little click of her teeth. - -Chimp left the tea shop. It was not a dignified exit, and he was aware -of it with every step that he took. He was also aware of the eyes of his -two colleagues boring into his retreating back. Still, what did it -matter, argued Chimp Twist, even if that stiff, Soapy, and his wife had -suspicions of him? They could not know. And all he needed was a clear -day or two and they could suspect all they pleased. Nevertheless, he -regretted that unfortunate slip. - -The door had hardly closed behind him when Dolly put her suspicions into -words. - -“Soapy!” - -“Yes, petty?” - -“That bird is aiming to double-cross us.” - -“You said it!” - -“I wondered why he switched to that fifty-fifty proposition so smooth. -And when he let it out that he’d been snooping around down there, I -knew. He’s got some little game of his own on, that’s what he’s got. -He’s planning to try and scoop that stuff by himself and leave us flat.” - -“The low hound!” said Mr. Molloy virtuously. - -“We got to get action, Soapy, or we’ll be left. To think of that little -Chimp doing us dirt just goes against my better nature. How would it be -if you was to go down to-night and do some more porch climbing? Once you -were in, you could get the stuff easily. It wouldn’t be a case of -hunting around same as last time.” - -“Well, sweetie,” said Mr. Molloy frankly, “I’ll tell you. I’m not so -strong for that burgling stuff. It’s not my line and I don’t like it. -It’s awful dark and lonesome in that joint at three o’clock in the -morning. All the time I was there I kep’ looking over my shoulder, -expecting old Finky’s ghost to sneak up on me and breathe down the back -of my neck.” - -“Be a man, honey!” - -“I’m a man all right, petty, but I’m temperamental.” - -“Well, then----” said Dolly, and breaking off abruptly, plunged into -thought. - -Mr. Molloy watched her fondly and hopefully. He had a great respect for -her woman’s resourcefulness, and it seemed to him from the occasional -gleam in her vivid eyes that something was doing. - -“I’ve got it!” - -“You have?” - -“Yes, sir!” - -“There is none like her, none,” Mr. Molloy’s glistening eye seemed to -say. “Give us an earful, baby,” he begged emotionally. - -Dolly bent closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. The woman in the -bugles, torpid with much limado, was out of ear-shot, but a waitress was -hovering not far away. - -“Listen! We got to wait till the guy Shotter is out of the house.” - -“But he’s got a man. You told me that yourself.” - -“Sure he’s got a man, but if you’ll only listen I’ll tell you. We wait -till this fellow Shotter is out----” - -“How do we know he’s out?” - -“We ask at the front door, of course. Say, listen, Soapy, for the love -of Pete don’t keep interrupting! We go to the house. You go round to the -back door.” - -“Why?” - -“I’ll soak you one in a minute,” exclaimed Dolly despairingly. - -“All right, sweetness. Sorry. Didn’t mean to butt in. Keep talking. You -have the floor.” - -“You go round to the back door and wait, keeping your eye on the front -steps, where I’ll be. I ring the bell and the hired man comes. I say, -‘Is Mr. Shotter at home?’ If he says yes, I’ll go in and make some sort -of spiel about something. But if he’s not, I’ll give you the high sign -and you slip in at the back door; and then when the man comes down into -the kitchen again you’re waiting and you bean him one with a sandbag. -Then you tie him up and come along to the front door and let me in and -we go up and grab that stuff. How about it?” - -“I bean him one?” said Mr. Molloy doubtfully. - -“Cert’nly you bean him one.” - -“I couldn’t do it, petty,” said Mr. Molloy. “I’ve never beaned anyone in -my life.” - -Dolly exhibited the impatience which all wives, from Lady Macbeth -downward through the ages, have felt when their schemes appear in danger -of being thwarted by the pusillanimity of a husband. - -The words, “Infirm of purpose, give me the sandbag!” seemed to be -trembling on her lips. - -“You poor cake eater!” she cried with justifiable vigour. “You talk as -if it needed a college education to lean a stuffed eelskin on a guy’s -head. Of course you can do it. You’re behind the kitchen door, see?--and -he comes in, see?--and you sim’ly bust him one, see? A feller with one -arm and no legs could do it. And, say, if you want something to brace -you up, think of all that money lying in the cistern, just waiting for -us to come and dip for it!” - -“Ah!” said Mr. Molloy, brightening. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - -AUNT YSOBEL POINTS THE WAY - - -§ 1 - -Claire Lippett sat in the kitchen of San Rafael, reading Pyke’s _Home -Companion_. It was Mr. Wrenn’s kindly custom to bring back a copy for -her each week on the day of publication, thus saving her an outlay of -twopence. She was alone in the house, for Kay was up in London doing -some shopping, and Mr. Wrenn, having come in and handed over the current -number, had gone off for a game of chess with his friend, Cornelius. - -She was not expecting to be alone long. Muffins lay on the table, all -ready to be toasted; a cake which she had made herself stood beside -them; and there was also a new tin of anchovy paste--all of which -dainties were designed for the delectation of Hash Todhunter, her -fiancé, who would shortly be coming to tea. - -As a rule, Pyke’s _Home Companion_ absorbed Claire’s undivided -attention, for she was one of its most devoted supporters; but this -evening she found her mind wandering, for there was that upon it which -not even Cordelia Blair’s _Hearts Aflame_ could conjure away. - -Claire was worried. On the previous day a cloud had fallen on her life, -not exactly blotting out the sunshine, but seeming to threaten some such -eclipse in the near future. She had taken Hash to John Street for a -formal presentation to her mother, and it was on the way home that she -had first observed the approach of the cloud. - -Hash’s manner had seemed to her peculiar. A girl who has just become -romantically betrothed to a man does not expect that man, when they are -sitting close together on the top of an omnibus, to talk moodily of the -unwisdom of hasty marriages. - -It pains and surprises her when he mentions friends of his who, plunging -hot-heatedly into matrimony, spent years of subsequent regret. And when, -staring woodenly before him, he bids her look at Samson, Doctor Crippen -and other celebrities who were not fortunate in their domestic lives, -she feels a certain alarm. - -And such had been the trend of Hash Todhunter’s conversation, coming -home from John Street. Claire, recalling the more outstanding of his -dicta, felt puzzled and unhappy, and not even the fact that Cordelia -Blair had got her hero into a ruined mill with villains lurking on the -ground floor and dynamite stored in the basement could enchain her -interest. She turned the page listlessly and found herself confronted by -Aunt Ysobel’s Chats With My Girls. - -In spite of herself, Claire’s spirits rose a little. She never failed to -read every word that Aunt Ysobel wrote, for she considered that lady a -complete guide to all mundane difficulties. Nor was this an unduly -flattering opinion, for Aunt Ysobel was indeed like a wise pilot, -gently steering the storm-tossed barks of her fellow men and women -through the shoals and sunken rocks of the ocean of life. If you wanted -to know whether to blow on your tea or allow it to cool of itself in -God’s good time, Aunt Ysobel would tell you. If, approaching her on a -deeper subject, you desired to ascertain the true significance of the -dark young man’s offer of flowers, she could tell you that too--even -attributing to each individual bloom a hidden and esoteric meaning which -it would have been astonished to find that it possessed. - -Should a lady shake hands or bow on parting with a gentleman whom she -has met only once? Could a gentleman present a lady with a pound of -chocolates without committing himself to anything unduly definite? Must -mother always come along? Did you say “Miss Jones--Mr. Smith” or “Mr. -Smith--Miss Jones,” when introducing friends? And arising from this -question, did Mr. Smith on such an occasion say, “Pleased to meet you” -or “Happy, I’m sure”? - -Aunt Ysobel was right there every time with the correct answer. And -everything she wrote had a universal message. - -It was so to-day. Scarcely had Claire begun to read, when her eye was -caught by a paragraph headed Worried (Upper Sydenham). - -“Coo!” said Claire. - -The passage ran as follows: - - “WORRIED (Upper Sydenham). You tell me, dear, that the man to whom - you are betrothed seems to you to be growing cold, and you ask me - what you had better do. Well, dear, there is only one thing you - can do, and I give this advice to all my girl friends who come to - me with this trouble. You must test this man. You see, he may not - really be growing cold; he may merely have some private business - worry on his mind which causes him to seem distrait. If you test - him you will soon learn the truth. What I suggest may seem to you - at first a wee bit unladylike, but try it all the same. Pretend to - show a liking for some other gentleman friend of yours. Even flirt - with him a teeny-weeny bit. - - “You will soon discover then if this young man really cares for you - still. If he does he will exhibit agitation. He may even go to the - length of becoming violent. In the olden days, you know, knights - used to joust for the love of their lady. Try Herbert or George, or - whatever his name is, out for a week, and see if you can work him - up to the jousting stage.” - -Claire laid down the paper with trembling hands. The thing might have -been written for her personal benefit. There was no getting away from -Aunt Ysobel. She touched the spot every time. - -Of course, there were difficulties. It was all very well for Aunt Ysobel -to recommend flirting with some other male member of your circle, but -suppose your circle was so restricted that there were no available -victims. From the standpoint of dashing male society, Burberry Road was -at the moment passing through rather a lean time. The postman was an -elderly man who, if he stopped to exchange a word, talked only of his -son in Canada. The baker’s representative, on the other hand, was a -mere boy, and so was the butcher’s. Besides, she might smile upon these -by the hour and Hash would never see her. It was all very complex, and -she was still pondering upon the problem when a whistle from without -announced the arrival of her guest. - -The chill of yesterday still hung over Mr. Todhunter’s demeanour. He was -not precisely cold, but he was most certainly not warm. He managed -somehow to achieve a kind of intermediate temperature. He was rather -like a broiled fish that has been lying too long on a plate. - -He kissed Claire. That is to say, technically the thing was a kiss. But -it was not the kiss of other days. - -“What’s up?” asked Claire, hurt. - -“Nothing’s up.” - -“Yes, there is something up.” - -“No, there ain’t anything up.” - -“Yes, there is.” - -“No, there ain’t.” - -“Well, then,” said Claire, “what’s up?” - -These intellectual exchanges seemed to have the effect of cementing Mr. -Todhunter’s gloom. He relapsed into a dark silence, and Claire, her chin -dangerously elevated, prepared tea. - -Tea did not thaw the guest. He ate a muffin, sampled the cake and drank -deeply; but he still remained that strange, moody figure who rather -reminded Claire of the old earl in _Hearts Aflame_. But then the old -earl had had good reason for looking like a man who has drained the wine -of life and is now unwillingly facing the lees, because he had driven -his only daughter from his door, and though mistaken in this view, -supposed that she had died of consumption in Australia. (It was really -another girl.) But why Hash should look like one who has drained the -four ale of life and found a dead mouse at the bottom of the pewter, -Claire did not know, and she quivered with a sense of injury. - -However, she was a hostess. (“A hostess, dears, must never, never permit -her private feelings to get the better of her”--Aunt Ysobel.) - -“Would you like a nice fresh lettuce?” she asked. It might be, she felt, -that this would just make the difference. - -“Ah!” said Hash. He had a weakness for lettuces. - -“I’ll go down the garden and cut you one.” - -He did not offer to accompany her, and that in itself was significant. -It was with a heart bowed down that Claire took her knife and made her -way along the gravel path. So preoccupied was she that she did not cast -even a glance over the fence till she was aware suddenly of a strange -moaning sound proceeding from the domain of Mon Repos. This excited her -curiosity. She stopped, listened, and finally looked. - -The garden of Mon Repos presented an animated spectacle. Sam was -watering a flower bed, and not far away the dog Amy, knee-deep in a tub, -was being bathed by a small, clean-shaven man who was a stranger to -Claire. - -Both of them seemed to be having a rough passage. Amy, as is the habit -of her species on these occasions, was conveying the impression of being -at death’s door and far from resigned. Her mournful eyes stared -hopelessly at the sky, her brow was wrinkled with a perplexed sorrow, -and at intervals she uttered a stricken wail. On these occasions she in -addition shook herself petulantly, and Chimp Twist--for, as Miss Blair -would have said, it was he--was always well within range. - -Claire stopped, transfixed. She had had no notion that the staff of Mon -Repos had been augmented, and it seemed to her that Chimp had been sent -from heaven. Here, right on the spot, in daily association with Hash, -was the desired male. She smiled dazzlingly upon Chimp. - -“Hullo,” she said. - -“Hullo,” said Chimp. - -He spoke moodily, for he was feeling moody. There might be golden -rewards at the end of this venture of his, but he perceived already that -they would have to be earned. Last night Hash Todhunter had won six -shilling from him at stud poker, and Chimp was a thrifty man. Moreover, -Hash slept in the top back room, and when not in it, locked the door. - -This latter fact may seem to offer little material for gloom on Chimp’s -part, but it was, indeed, the root of all his troubles. In informing Mr. -and Mrs. Molloy that the plunder of the late Edward Finglass was hidden -in the cistern of Mon Repos, Chimp Twist had been guilty of -subterfuge--pardonable, perhaps, for your man of affairs must take these -little business precautions, but nevertheless subterfuge. In the letter -which, after carefully memorising, he had just as carefully destroyed, -Mr. Finglass had revealed that the proceeds of his flutter with the New -Asiatic Bank might be found not in the cistern but rather by anyone who -procured a chisel and raised the third board from the window in the top -back room. Chimp had not foreseen that this top back room would be -occupied by a short-tempered cook who, should he discover people prying -up his floor with chisels, would scarcely fail to make himself -unpleasant. That was why Mr. Twist spoke moodily to Claire, and who -shall blame him? - -Claire was not discouraged. She had cast Chimp for the rôle of stalking -horse and he was going to be it. - -“Is the doggie having his bath?” she asked archly. - -“I think they’re splitting it about fifty-fifty,” said Sam, adding -himself to the conversation. - -Claire perceived that this was, indeed, so. - -“Oh, you are wet,” she cried. “You’ll catch cold. Would you like a nice -cup of hot tea?” - -Something approaching gratitude appeared in Chimp’s mournful face. - -“Thank you, miss,” he said. “I would.” - -“We’re spoiling you,” said Sam. - -He sauntered down the garden, plying his hose, and Claire hurried back -to her kitchen. - -“Where’s my nice lettuce?” demanded Hash. - -“Haven’t got it yet. I’ve come in to get a cup of hot tea and a slice of -cake for that young man next door. He’s got so wet washing that big -dog.” - -It was some little time before she returned. - -“I’ve been having a talk with that young man,” she said. “He liked his -tea very much.” - -“Did he?” said Hash shortly. “Ho, did he? Where’s my lettuce?” - -Claire uttered an exclamation. - -“There! If I haven’t gone and forgotten it!” - -Hash rose, a set look on his face. - -“Never mind,” he said. “Never mind.” - -“You aren’t going?” - -“Yes, I am.” - -“What, already?” - -“Yes, already.” - -“Well, if you must,” said Claire. “I like Mr. Twist,” she went on -pensively. “He’s what I call a perfect gentleman.” - -“He’s what I call a perisher,” said Hash sourly. - -“Nice way he’s got of speaking. His Christian name’s Alexander. Do you -call him that or Aleck?” - -“If you care to ’ear what I call him,” replied Hash with frigid -politeness, “you can come and listen at our kitchen door.” - -“Why, you surely aren’t jealous!” cried Claire, wide-eyed. - -“Who, me?” said Hash bitterly. - -It was some few minutes later that Sam, watering his garden like a good -householder, heard sounds of tumult from within. Turning off his hose, -he hastened toward the house and reached it in time to observe the back -door open with some violence and his new odd-job man emerge at a high -rate of speed. A crockery implement of the kind used in kitchens -followed the odd-job man, bursting like a shell against the brick wall -which bounded the estate of Mon Repos. The odd-job man himself, heading -for the street, disappeared, and Sam, going into the kitchen, found Mr. -Todhunter fuming. - -“Little tiff?” inquired Sam. - -Hash gave vent to a few sailorly oaths. - -“He’s been flirting with my girl and I’ve been telling him off.” - -Sam clicked his tongue. - -“Boys will be boys,” he said. “But, Hash, didn’t I gather from certain -words you let fall when you came home last night that your ardour was -beginning to wane a trifle?” - -“Ur?” - -“I say, from the way you spoke last night about the folly of hasty -marriages, I imagined that you had begun to experience certain regrets. -In other words, you gave me the impression of a man who would be glad to -be free from sentimental entanglements. Yet here you are -positively--yes, by Jove, positively jousting!” - -“What say?” - -“I was quoting from a little thing I dashed off up at the office -recently. Have you changed your mind about hasty marriages then?” - -Hash frowned perplexedly at the stove. He was not a man who found it -easy to put his thoughts into words. - -“Well, it’s like this: I saw her mother yesterday.” - -“Ah! That is a treat I have not had.” - -“Do you think girls get like their mothers, Sam?” - -“Sometimes.” - -Hash shivered. - -“Well, the ’ole thing is, when I’m away from the girl, I get to thinking -about her.” - -“Very properly,” said Sam. “Absence, it has been well said, makes the -heart grow fonder.” - -“Thinking of her mother, I mean.” - -“Oh, of her mother?” - -“And then I wish I was well out of it all, you understand. But then -again, when I’m settin’ with ’er with my arm round ’er little waist----” - -“You are still speaking of the mother?” - -“No, the girl.” - -“Oh, the girl?” - -“And when I’m lookin’ at her and she’s lookin’ at me, it’s different. -It’s--well, it’s what I may call different. She’s got a way of tossing -her chin up, Sam, and waggling of ’er ’air----” - -Sam nodded. - -“I know,” he said, “I know. They have, haven’t they? Confirmed hair -wagglers, all of them. Well, Hash, if you will listen to the advice of -an old lady with girl friends in every part of England--and Scotland, -too, for that matter; you will find a communication from Bonnie Lassie -(Glasgow) in this very issue--I would say, Risk the mother. And -meanwhile, Hash, refrain, if possible, from slaying our odd-job man. He -may not be much to look at, but he is uncommonly useful. Never forget -that in a few days we may want Amy washed again.” - -He bestowed an encouraging nod upon his companion and went out into the -garden. He was just picking up his hose when a scuffling sound from the -other side of the fence attracted his attention. It was followed by a -sharp exclamation, and he recognised Kay’s voice. - -It was growing dark now, but it was not too dark for Sam to see, if only -sketchily, what was in progress in the garden of San Rafael. Shrouded -though the whole scene was in an evening mist, he perceived a male -figure. He also perceived the figure of Kay. The male figure appeared -either to be giving Kay a lesson in jiujitsu or else embracing her -against her will. From the sound of her voice, he put the latter -construction on the affair, and it seemed to him that, in the inspired -words of the typewriter, now was the time for all good men to come to -the aid of the party. - -Sam was a man of action. Several policies were open to him. He could -ignore the affair altogether; he could shout reproof at the aggressor -from a distance; he could climb the fence and run to the rescue. None of -these operations appealed to him. It was his rule in life to act swiftly -and to think, if at all, later. In his simple, direct fashion, -therefore, he lifted the hose and sent a stream of water shooting at the -now closely entangled pair. - - -§ 2 - -The treatment was instantaneously effective. The male member of the -combination, receiving several gallons of the Valley Fields Water -Company’s best stuff on the side of his head and then distributed at -random over his person, seemed to understand with a lightning quickness -that something in the nature of reinforcements had arrived. Hastily -picking up his hat, which had fallen off, he stood not upon the order of -his going, but ran. The darkness closed upon him, and Sam, with a -certain smug complacency inevitable in your knight errant who has borne -himself notably well in a difficult situation, turned off the hose and -stood waiting while Kay crossed the lawn. - -“Who was our guest?” he asked. - -Kay seemed a little shaken. She was breathing quickly. - -“It was Claude Bates,” she said, and her voice quivered. So did Sam’s. - -“Claude Bates!” he cried distractedly. “If I had known that, I would -have chased him all the way back to London, kicking him violently.” - -“I wish you had.” - -“How on earth did that fellow come to be here?” - -“I met him outside Victoria Station. I suppose he got into the train and -followed me.” - -“The hound!” - -“I suddenly found him out here in the garden.” - -“The blister!” - -“Do you think somebody will kill him some day?” asked Kay wistfully. - -“I shall have a very poor opinion of the public spirit of the modern -Englishman,” Sam assured her, “if that loathsome leprous growth is -permitted to infest London for long. But in the meantime,” he said, -lowering his voice tenderly, “doesn’t it occur to you that this thing -has been sent for a purpose? Surely it is intended as a proof of the -truth of what I was saying at lunch, that you need----” - -“Yes,” said Kay; “but we’ll talk about that some other time, if you -don’t mind. I suppose you know you’ve soaked me to the skin.” - -“You?” said Sam incredulously. - -“Yes, me.” - -“You don’t mean Bates?” - -“No, I do not mean Bates. Feel my arm if you don’t believe me.” - -Sam extended a reverent hand. - -“What an extraordinarily beautiful arm you have,” he said. - -“An extraordinarily wet arm.” - -“Yes, you are wet,” Sam acknowledged. “Well, all I can say is that I am -extremely sorry. I acted for the best; impulsively, let us -say--mistakenly, it may be--but still with the best intentions.” - -“I should hate to be anywhere near when you are doing your worst. Well, -things like this, I suppose, must be----” - -“----after a famous victory. Exactly!” - -“I must run in and change.” - -“Wait!” said Sam. “We must get this thing straight. You will admit now, -I imagine, that you need a strong man’s protection?” - -“I don’t admit anything of the kind.” - -“You don’t?” - -“No.” - -“But surely, with Claude Bateses surging around you on every side, -dogging your footsteps, forcing their way into your very garden, you -must acknowledge----” - -“I shall catch cold.” - -“Of course! What am I thinking of? You must run in at once.” - -“Yes.” - -“But wait!” said Sam. “I want to get to the bottom of this. What makes -you think that you and I were not designed for each other from the -beginning of time? I’ve been thinking very deeply about the whole thing, -and it beats me why you can’t see it. To start with, we are so much -alike, we have the same tastes----” - -“Have we?” - -“Most certainly. To take a single instance, we both dislike Claude -Bates. Then there is your love, which I share, for a life in the -country. The birds, the breezes, the trees, the bees--you love them and -so do I. It is my one ambition to amass enough money to enable me to buy -a farm and settle down. You would like that.” - -“You seem to know a lot about me.” - -“I have my information from your uncle.” - -“Don’t you and uncle ever do any work at the office? You seem to spend -your whole time talking.” - -“In the process of getting together a paper like Pyke’s _Home -Companion_, there come times when a little rest, a little folding of the -hands, is essential. Otherwise the machine would break down. On these -occasions we chat, and when we chat we naturally talk about you.” - -“Why?” - -“Because there is no other subject in which I am in the least -interested. Well, then, returning to what I was saying, we are so much -alike----” - -“They say that people should marry their opposites.” - -“Pyke’s _Home Companion_ has exploded that view. Replying to Anxious -(Wigan) in this very issue, Aunt Ysobel says just the contrary.” - -“I’ve often wondered who Aunt Ysobel was.” - -“It would be foreign to the policy of Pyke’s _Home Companion_ to reveal -office secrets. You may take it from me that Aunt Ysobel is the goods. -She knows. You might say she knows everything.” - -“I wonder if she knows I’m getting pneumonia.” - -“Good heavens! I was forgetting. I mustn’t keep you standing here for -another instant.” - -“No. Good-bye.” - -“Wait!” said Sam. “While we are on the subject of Aunt Ysobel, I wonder -if you have seen her ruling this week in the case of Romeo -(Middlesbrough)?” - -“I haven’t read this week’s number.” - -“Ah! Well, the gist of what she says--I quote from memory--is that there -is nothing wrong in a young man taking a girl to the theatre, provided -that it is a matinée performance. On the contrary, the girl will -consider it a pretty and delicate attention. Now to-morrow will be -Saturday, and I have in my possession two seats for the Winter Garden. -Will you come?” - -“Does Aunt Ysobel say what the significance is if the girl accepts?” - -“It implies that she is beginning to return--slightly, it may be, but -nevertheless perceptibly--the gentleman’s esteem.” - -“I see. Rather serious. I must think this over.” - -“Certainly. And now, if I may suggest it, you really ought to be going -in and changing your dress. You are very wet.” - -“So I am. You seem to know everything--like Aunt Ysobel.” - -“There is a resemblance, perhaps,” said Sam. - -Hash Todhunter met Sam as he re-entered Mon Repos. - -“Oh, there you are,” said Hash. “There was some people calling, wanting -to see you, a minute ago.” - -“Really? Who?” - -“Well, it was a young female party that come to the door, but I thought -I saw a kind of thickset feller hanging about down on the drive.” - -“My old friends, Thomas G. and Miss Gunn, no doubt. A persistent couple. -Did they leave any message?” - -“No. She asked if you was in, and when I told her you was around -somewhere she said it didn’t matter.” - - -§ 3 - -That night. The apartments of Lord Tilbury. - -“Yes? Yes? This is Lord Tilbury speaking.... Ah, is that you, Twist? -Have you anything to report?” - -“The young woman’s cook has just been round with a message. The young -woman is going with Mr. Shotter to the theatre to-morrow afternoon.” - -“Cor!” said Lord Tilbury. - -He replaced the receiver. He remained for a moment in the deepest -thought. Then, swiftly reaching a decision, he went to the desk and took -out a cable form. - -The wording of the cable gave him some little trouble. The first version -was so condensed that he could not understand it himself. He destroyed -the form and decided that this was no time for that economy which is -instinctive even to the richest men when writing cables. Taking another -form and recklessly dashing the expense, he informed Mr. Pynsent that, -in spite of the writer’s almost fatherly care, his nephew Samuel had -most unfortunately sneaked off surreptitiously and become entangled with -a young woman residing in the suburbs. He desired Mr. Pynsent to -instruct him in this matter. - -The composition satisfied him. It was a good piece of work. He rang for -an underling and sent him with it to the cable office. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - -STORMY TIMES AT MON REPOS - - -§ 1 - - -There are few pleasanter things in life than to sit under one’s own -rooftree and smoke the first pipe of the morning which so sets the seal -on the charms of breakfast. Sam, as he watched Hash clearing away the -remains of as goodly a dish of bacon and eggs and as fragrant a pot of -coffee as ever man had consumed, felt an uplifted thrill of well-being. -It was Saturday morning, and a darned good Saturday morning at -that--mild enough to permit of an open window, yet crisp enough to -justify a glowing fire. - -“Hash,” said Sam, “have you ever felt an almost overwhelming desire to -break into song?” - -“No,” said Hash, after consideration. - -“You have never found yourself irresistibly compelled to render some old -Provençal _chansonnette_ breathing of love and youth and romance?” - -“No, I ain’t.” - -“Perhaps it’s as well. You wouldn’t be good at it, and one must consider -the neighbours. But I may tell you that I am feeling the urge to-day. -What’s that thing of Browning’s that you’re always quoting? Ah, yes! - - ‘The morning’s at seven; - The hillside’s dew-pearled. - God’s in his heaven; - All’s right with the world.’ - -That is how I feel.” - -“How’d you like this bacon?” inquired Hash, picking up a derelict slice -and holding it against the light as if it were some rare _objet d’art_. - -Sam perceived that his audience was not attuned to the lyrical note. - -“I am too spiritual to be much of a judge of these things,” he said, -“but as far as I could gather it seemed all right.” - -“Ha’penny a pound cheaper than the last,” said Hash with sober triumph. - -“Indeed? Well, as I was saying, life seems decidedly tolerable to-day. I -am taking Miss Derrick to the theatre this afternoon, so I shall not be -back until lateish. Before I go, therefore, I have something to say to -you, Hash. I noticed a disposition on your part yesterday to try to -disintegrate our odd-job man. This must not be allowed to grow upon you. -When I return this evening I shall expect to find him all in one piece.” - -“That’s all right, Sam,” replied Mr. Todhunter cordially. “All that -’appened there was that I let myself get what I might call rather ’asty. -I been thinking it over, and I’ve got nothing against the feller.” - -This was true. Sleep, which knits up the ravelled sleeve of care, had -done much to soothe the troubled spirit of Hash Todhunter. The healing -effect of a night’s slumber had been to convince him that he had -wronged Claire. He proceeded to get Sam’s expert views on this. - -“Suppose it was this way, Sam: Suppose a feller’s young lady went and -give another feller a cup of hot tea and cut him a slice of cake. That -wouldn’t ’ave to mean that she was flirting with ’im, would it?” - -“Not at all,” said Sam warmly. “Far from it. I would call it evidence of -the kind heart rather than the frivolous mind.” - -“Ah!” - -“I may be dangerously modern,” said Sam, “but my view--and I give it -fearlessly--is that a girl may cut many a slice of cake and still remain -a good, sweet, womanly woman.” - -“You see,” argued Hash, “he was wet.” - -“Who was wet?” - -“This feller Twist. Along of washing the dog. And Claire, she took and -give him a nice cup of hot tea and a slice of cake. Upset me at the -time, I’ll own, but I see where maybe I done ’er an injustice.” - -“You certainly did, Hash. That girl is always doing that sort of thing -out of pure nobility of nature. Why, the first morning I was here she -gave me a complete breakfast--eggs, bacon, toast, coffee, marmalade and -everything.” - -“No, did she?” - -“You bet she did. She’s a jewel, and you’re lucky to get her.” - -“Ah!” said Hash with fervour. - -He gathered up the tray alertly and bore it downstairs to the kitchen, -where Chimp Twist eyed him warily. Although on his return to the house -on the previous night Chimp had suffered no injury at Hash’s hands, he -attributed this solely to the intervention of Sam, who had insisted on a -formal reconciliation; and he had just heard the front door bang behind -Sam. A nervous man who shrank from personal violence, particularly when -it promised to be so one-sided as in his present society, Chimp felt -apprehensive. - -He was reassured by the geniality of his companion’s manner. - -“Nice day,” said Hash. - -“Lovely,” said Chimp, relieved. - -“’As that dog ’ad ’er breakfast?” - -“She was eating a shoe when I saw her last.” - -“Ah, well, maybe that’ll do her till dinnertime. Nice dog.” - -“Yes, yes.” - -“Nice weather.” - -“Yes, yes.” - -“If the rain ’olds off, it’ll be a regular nice day.” - -“It certainly will.” - -“And if it rains,” continued Hash, sunnily optimistic, “I see by the -paper that the farmers need it.” - -It was a scene which would have rejoiced the heart of Henry Ford or any -other confirmed peacemaker; and Chimp, swift, in his canny fashion, to -take advantage of his companion’s miraculous cordiality, put a tentative -question. - -“Sleep well last night?” - -“Like a top.” - -“So did I. Say,” said Chimp enthusiastically, “that’s a swell bed I’ve -got.” - -“Ah?” - -“Yes, sir, that’s one swell bed. And a dandy room too. And I been -thinking it over, and it don’t seem right that I should have that dandy -room and that swell bed, seeing that I came here after you. So what say -we exchange?” - -“Change rooms?” - -“Yes, sir; you have my swell big front room and I have your poky little -back room.” - -The one fault which undoes diplomatists more than any other is the -temptation to be too elaborate. If it had been merely a case of -exchanging rooms, as two medieval monarchs, celebrating a truce, might -have exchanged chargers and suits of armour, Hash would probably have -consented. He would have thought it silly, but he would have done it by -way of a gesture indicating his opinion of the world’s excellence this -morning and of his desire to show Mr. Twist that he had forgiven him and -wished him well. But the way the other put it made it impossible for any -man feeling as generous and amiable as he did to become a party to a -scheme for turning this charming fellow out of a swell front room and -putting him in a poky back one. - -“Couldn’t do it,” he said. - -“I cert’nly wish you would.” - -“No,” said Hash. “No; couldn’t do it.” - -Chimp sighed and returned to his solitaire. Hash, full of the milk of -human kindness, went out into the garden. It had occurred to him that at -about this time of day Claire generally took a breather in the open -after the rough work of making the beds. She was strolling up and down -the gravel path. - -“Hullo,” she said. - -“Hullo,” said Hash. “Nice day.” - -A considerable proportion of the pathos of life comes from the -misunderstandings that arise between male and female through the -inability of a man with an untrained voice to convey the emotions -underlying his words. Hash supposed that he had spoken in a way that -would show Claire that he considered her an angel of light and a credit -to her sex. If he was slightly more formal than usual, that was because -he was feeling embarrassed at the thought of the injustice he had done -her at their last meeting. - -Claire, however, noting the formality--for it was customary with him to -couch his morning’s greeting in some such phrase as “Hullo, ugly!” or -“What cheer, face!”--attributed it to that growing coldness of which she -had recently become aware. Her heart sank. She became provocative. - -“How’s Mr. Twist this morning?” - -“Oh, he’s fine.” - -“Not been quarrelling with him, have you?” - -“Who, me?” cried Hash, shocked. “Why, him and me is the best of -friends!” - -“Oh?” - -“We just been having a chat.” - -“About me?” - -“No; about the weather and the dog and how well we slept last night.” - -Claire scraped at the gravel with the toe of her shoe. - -“Oh! Well, I’ve got to go and wash the dishes,” she said. “Goo’ -mornin’.” - - -§ 2 - -Hash Todhunter was not a swift-thinking man. Nor was he one of those -practised amateurs of the sex who can read volumes in a woman’s glance -and see in a flash exactly what she means when she scrapes arabesques on -a gravel path with the toe of her shoe. For some three hours and more, -therefore, he remained in a state of perfect content. And then suddenly, -while smoking a placid after-luncheon pipe, his mood changed and there -began to seep into the hinterlands of his mind the idea that in Claire’s -manner at their recent meeting there had been something decidedly -peculiar. - -He brooded over this; and as the lunch which he had cooked and eaten -fought what was for the moment a winning battle with his organs of -digestion, there crept over him a sombre alarm. Slowly, but with a -persistence not to be denied, the jealousy of which sleep had cured him -began to return. He blew out a cloud of tobacco smoke and through it -stared bleakly at Chimp Twist, who was in a reverie on the other side of -the kitchen table. - -It came to him, not for the first time, that he did not like Chimp’s -looks. Handsome not even his mother could have called Chimp Twist; and -yet there was about him a certain something calculated to inspire -uneasiness in an engaged man. He had that expression in his eyes which -home wreckers wear in the movies. A human snake, if ever there was one, -felt Hash, as his interior mechanism strove vainly to overcome that -which he had thrust upon it. - -Nor did his recollection of Claire’s conversation bring any reassurance. -So brief it had been that he could remember everything she had said. -And it had all been about that black-hearted little object across the -table. - -“How’s Mr. Twist this morning?” A significant question. “Not been -quarrelling with him, have you?” A fishy remark. And then he had said -that they had been having a chat, and she had asked, “About me?” - -So moved was Hash by the recollection of this that he took the pipe out -of his mouth and addressed his companion with an abruptness that was -almost violent: - -“Hey!” - -Chimp looked up with a start. He had been pondering whether it might not -possibly come within the scope of an odd-job man’s duties to put a -ladder against the back of the house and climb up it and slap a coat of -paint on the window frame of the top back room. Then, when Hash was -cooking dinner---- - -“Hullo?” he said, blinking. He was surprised to see that the other, who -had been geniality itself during lunch, was regarding him with a cold -and suspicious hostility. - -“Want to ask you something,” said Hash. - -“Spill it,” said Chimp, and smiled nervously. - -It was an unfortunate thing for him to have done, for he did not look -his best when smiling. It seemed to Hash that his smile was furtive and -cunning. - -“Want to know,” said Hash, “if there are any larks on?” - -“Eh?” - -“You and my young lady next door--there’s nothing what you might call -between you, is there?” - -“’Course not!” cried Chimp in agitation. - -“Well,” said Hash weightily, “there better hadn’t be. See?” - -He rose, feeling a little better, and, his suspicions momentarily -quieted, he proceeded to the garden, where he chirruped for a while over -the fence. This producing no response, he climbed the fence and peeped -in through the kitchen window of San Rafael. The kitchen was empty. - -“Gone for a walk,” diagnosed Hash, and felt a sense of injury. If Claire -wanted to go for a walk, why hadn’t she asked him to come too? He did -not like it. It seemed to him that love must have grown cold. He -returned to Mon Repos and embarrassed the sensitive Mr. Twist by staring -at him for twenty minutes almost without a blink. - -Claire had not gone for a walk. She had taken the 12:10 train to -Victoria and had proceeded thence to Mr. Braddock’s house in John -Street. It was her intention to put the facts before her mother and from -that experienced woman to seek advice in this momentous crisis of her -life. Her faith in Aunt Ysobel had not weakened, but there is never any -harm done by getting the opinion of a second specialist. For Claire’s -uneasiness had been growing ever since that talk with Hash across the -fence that morning. His manner had seemed to her peculiar. Nor did her -recollection of his conversation bring any reassurance. - -“How’s Mr. Twist this morning?” she had asked. And instead of looking -like one about to joust, he had replied heartily, “Oh, he’s fine.” A -disturbing remark. - -And then he had gone on to say that he and Chimp were the best of -friends. It was with tight lips and hard eyes that Claire, replying -absently to the paternal badinage of Sleddon, the butler, made her way -into her mother’s presence. Mrs. Lippett, consulted, proved -uncompromisingly pro-Aunt Ysobel. - -“That’s what I call a sensible woman, Clara.” - -“Claire,” corrected her daughter mechanically. - -“She knows.” - -“That’s what I think.” - -“Ah, she’s suffered, that woman has,” said Mrs. Lippett. “You can see -that. Stands to reason she couldn’t know so much about life if she -hadn’t suffered.” - -“Then you’d go on testing him?” said Claire anxiously. - -“Test him more and more,” said Mrs. Lippett. “There’s no other way. -You’ve got to remember, dearie, that your Clarence is a sailor, and -sailors has to be handled firm. They say sailors don’t care. I say they -must be made to care. That’s what I say.” - -Claire made the return journey on an omnibus. For purposes of thought -there is nothing like a ride on the top of an omnibus. By four o’clock, -when the vehicle put her down at the corner of Burberry Road, her -resolution was as chilled steel and she had got her next move all -planned out. She went into the kitchen for a few moments, and coming out -into the garden, perceived Hash roaming the lawn of Mon Repos. - -“Hi!” she called, and into her voice managed to project a note of -care-free liveliness. - -“Where you been?” inquired Hash. - -“I been up seeing mother.... Is Mr. Twist indoors?” - -“What do you want with Mr. Twist?” - -“Just wanted to give him this--something I promised him.” - -This was an envelope, lilac in colour and scent, and Hash, taking it and -gazing upon it as he might have gazed upon an adder nestling in his -palm, made a disturbing discovery. - -“There’s something inside this.” - -“Of course there is. If there wasn’t, what ’ud I be giving it him for?” - -Hash’s fingers kneaded the envelope restlessly. - -“What you writing to him about?” - -“Never mind.” - -“There’s something else inside this ’ere envelope besides a letter. -There’s something that sort of crinkles when you squeeze it.” - -“Just a little present I promised to give him.” - -A monstrous suspicion flamed in Hash Todhunter’s mind. It seemed -inconceivable, and yet---- He tore open the envelope and found his -suspicion fulfilled. Between his fingers there dangled a lock of -tow-coloured hair. - -“When you’ve finished opening other people’s letters----” said Claire. - -She looked at him, hopefully at first, and then with a growing despair. -For Hash’s face was wooden and expressionless. - -“I’m glad,” said Hash huskily at length. “I been worried, but now I’m -not worried. I been worried because I been worrying about you and me not -being suited to one another and ’aving acted ’asty; but now I’m not -worried, because I see there’s another feller you’re fond of, so the -worry about what was to be done and everything don’t worry me no more. -He’s in the kitchen,” said Hash in a gentle rumble. “I’ll give him this -and explain ’ow it come to be opened in error.” - -Nothing could have exceeded the dignity of his manner, but there are -moments when women chafe at masculine dignity. - -“Aren’t you going to knock his head off?” demanded Claire distractedly. - -“Me?” said Hash, looking as nearly as he could like the picture of Saint -Sebastian in the Louvre. “Me? Why should I knock the pore feller’s ’ead -off? I’m glad. Because I was worried, and now I’m not worried--see what -I mean?” - -Before Claire’s horrified eyes and through a world that rocked and -danced, he strode toward the kitchen of Mon Repos, bearing the envelope -daintily between finger and thumb. He seemed calm and at peace. He -looked as if he might be humming. - -Inside the kitchen, however, his manner changed. Chimp Twist, glancing -up from his solitaire, observed in the doorway, staring down at him, a -face that seemed to his excited imagination to have been equipped with -searchlights instead of eyes. Beneath these searchlights was a mouth -that appeared to be gnashing its teeth. And from this mouth, in a brief -interval of gnashing, proceeded dreadful words. - -The first that can be printed were the words “Put ’em up!” - -Mr. Twist, rising, slid like an eel to the other side of the table. - -“What’s the matter?” he demanded in considerable agitation. - -“I’ll show you what’s the matter,” said Hash, after another verbal -interlude which no compositor would be allowed by his union to set up. -“Come out from behind that table like a man and put your ’ands up!” - -Mr. Twist rejected this invitation. - -“I’m going to take your ’ead,” continued Hash, sketching out his plans, -“and I’m going to pull it off, and then----” - -What he proposed to do after this did not intrigue Chimp. He foiled a -sudden dash with an inspired leap. - -“Come ’ere,” said Hash coaxingly. - -His mind clearing a little, he perceived that the root of the trouble, -the obstacle which was standing in the way of his aims, was the table. -It was a heavy table, but with a sharp heave he tilted it on its side -and pushed it toward the stove. Chimp, his first line of defense thus -demolished, shot into the open, and Hash was about to make another -offensive movement when the dog Amy, who had been out in the garden -making a connoisseur’s inspection of the dustbin, strolled in and -observed with pleasure that a romp was in progress. - -Amy was by nature a thoughtful dog. Most of her time, when she was not -eating or sleeping, she spent in wandering about with wrinkled forehead, -puzzling over the cosmos. But she could unbend. Like so many -philosophers, she loved an occasional frolic, and this one appeared to -be of exceptional promise. - -The next moment Hash, leaping forward, found his movements impeded by -what seemed like several yards of dog. It was hard for him to tell -without sorting the tangle out whether she was between his legs or -leaning on his shoulder. Certainly she was licking his face; but on the -other hand, he had just kicked her with a good deal of violence, which -seemed to indicate that she was on a lower level. - -“Get out!” cried Hash. - -The remark was addressed to Amy, but the advice it contained was so -admirable that Chimp Twist acted on it without hesitation. In the swirl -of events he had found himself with a clear path to the door, and along -this path he shot without delay. And not until he had put the entire -length of Burberry Road between him and his apparently insane aggressor -did he pause. - -Then he mopped his forehead and said, “Gee!” - -It seemed to Chimp Twist that a long walk was indicated--a walk so long -that by the time he reached Mon Repos again, Sam, his preserver, would -have returned and would be on the spot to protect him. - -Hash, meanwhile, raged, baffled. He had extricated himself from Amy and -had rushed out into the road, but long ere that his victim had -disappeared. He went back to try to find Amy and rebuke her, but Amy had -disappeared too. In spite of her general dreaminess, there was sterling -common sense in Amy. She knew when and when not to be among those -present. - -Hash returned to his kitchen and remained there, seething. He had been -seething for perhaps a quarter of an hour, when the front doorbell rang. -He climbed the stairs gloomily; and such was his disturbed frame of -mind that not even the undeniable good looks of the visitor who had rung -could soothe him. - -“Mr. Shotter in?” - -He recognised her now. It was the young party that had called on the -previous evening, asking for Sam. And, as on that occasion, he seemed to -see through the growing darkness the same sturdy male person hovering -about in the shadows. - -“No, miss, he ain’t.” - -“Expecting him back soon?” - -“No, miss, I ain’t. He’s gone to the theatre, to a mat-i-nay.” - -“Ah,” said the lady, “is that so?” And she made a sudden, curious -gesture with her parasol. - -“Sorry,” said Hash, melting a little, for her eyes were very bright. - -“Can’t be helped. You all alone here then?” - -“Yes.” - -“Tough luck.” - -“Oh, I don’t mind, miss,” said Hash, pleased by her sympathy. - -“Well, I won’t keep you. ’Devening.” - -“’Evening, miss.” - -Hash closed the door. Whistling a little, for his visitor had lightened -somehow the depression which was gnawing at him, he descended the stairs -and entered the kitchen. - -Something which appeared at first acquaintance to be the ceiling, the -upper part of the house and a ton of bricks thrown in for good measure -hit Hash on the head and he subsided gently on the floor. - - -§ 3 - -Soapy Molloy came to the front door and opened it. He was a little pale, -and he breathed heavily. - -“All right?” said his wife eagerly. - -“All right.” - -“Tied him up?” - -“With a clothesline.” - -“How about if he hollers?” - -“I’ve put a duster in his mouth.” - -“At-a-boy!” said Mrs. Molloy. “Then let’s get action.” - -They climbed the stairs to where the cistern stood, and Mr. Molloy, -removing his coat, rolled up his sleeves. - -Some minutes passed, and then Mr. Molloy, red in the face and wet in the -arm, made a remark. - -“But it must be there!” cried his wife. - -“It isn’t.” - -“You haven’t looked.” - -“I’ve looked everywhere. There couldn’t be a toothpick in that thing -without I’d have found it.” He expelled a long breath and his face grew -bleak. “Know what I think?” - -“What?” - -“That little oil can, Chimp, has slipped one over on us--told us the -wrong place.” - -The plausibility of this theory was so obvious that Mrs. Molloy made no -attempt to refute it. She bit her lip in silence. - -“Then let’s you and me get busy and find the right place,” she said at -length, with the splendid fortitude of a great woman. “We know the -stuff’s in the house somewheres, and we got the place to ourselves.” - -“It’s taking a chance,” said Mr. Molloy doubtfully. “Suppose somebody -was to come and find us here.” - -“Well, then, all you would do would be to just simply haul off and bust -them one, same as you did the hired man.” - -“’M, yes,” said Mr. Molloy. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - -SOAPY MOLLOY’S BUSY AFTERNOON - - -§ 1 - - -The unwelcome discovery of the perfidy of Chimp Twist had been made by -Mr. Molloy and his bride at about twenty minutes past four. At 4:30 a -natty two-seater car drew up at the gate of San Rafael and Willoughby -Braddock alighted. Driving aimlessly about the streets of London some -forty minutes earlier, and feeling rather at a loose end, it had -occurred to him that a pleasant way of passing the evening would be to -go down to Valley Fields and get Kay to give him a cup of tea. - -Mr. Braddock was in a mood of the serenest happiness. And if this seems -strange, seeing that only recently he had had a proposal of marriage -rejected, it should be explained that he had regretted that hasty -proposal within two seconds of dropping the letter in the letter box. -And he had come to the conclusion that, much as he liked Kay, what had -induced him to offer her his hand and heart had been the fact that he -had had a good deal of champagne at dinner and that its after effects -had consisted of a sort of wistful melancholy which had removed for the -time his fundamental distaste for matrimony. He did not want matrimony; -he wanted adventure. He had not yet entirely abandoned hope that some -miracle might occur to remove Mrs. Lippett from the scheme of things; -and when that happened, he wished to be free. - -Yes, felt Willoughby Braddock, everything had turned out extremely well. -He pushed open the gate of San Rafael with the debonair flourish of a -man without entanglements. As he did so, the front door opened and Mr. -Wrenn came out. - -“Oh, hullo,” said Mr. Braddock. “Kay in?” - -“I am afraid not,” said Mr. Wrenn. “She has gone to the theatre.” -Politeness to a visitor wrestled with the itch to be away. “I fear I -have an engagement also, for which I am already a little late. I -promised Cornelius----” - -“That’s all right. I’ll go in next door and have a chat with Sam -Shotter.” - -“He has gone to the theatre with Kay.” - -“A washout, in short,” said Mr. Braddock with undiminished cheerfulness. -“Right-ho! Then I’ll pop.” - -“But, my dear fellow, you mustn’t run away like this,” said Mr. Wrenn -with remorse. “Why don’t you come in and have a cup of tea and wait for -Kay? Claire will bring you some if you ring.” - -“Something in that,” agreed Mr. Braddock. “Sound, very sound.” - -He spoke a few genial words of farewell and proceeded to the -drawing-room, where he rang the bell. Nothing ensuing, he went to the -top of the kitchen stairs and called down. - -“I say!” Silence from below. “I say!” fluted Mr. Braddock once more, and -now it seemed to him that the silence had been broken by a sound--a -rummy sound--a sound that was like somebody sobbing. - -He went down the stairs. It was somebody sobbing. Bunched up on a chair, -with her face buried in her arms, that weird girl Claire was crying like -the dickens. - -“I say!” said Mr. Braddock. - -There is this peculiar quality about tears--that they can wash away in a -moment the animosity of a lifetime. For years Willoughby Braddock had -been on terms of distant hostility with this girl. Even apart from the -fact that that affair of the onion had not ceased to rankle in his -bosom, there had been other causes of war between them. Mr. Braddock -still suspected that it was Claire who, when on the occasion of his -eighteenth birthday he had called at Midways in a top hat, had flung a -stone at that treasured object from the recesses of a shrubbery. One of -those things impossible of proof, the outrage had been allowed to become -a historic mystery; but Willoughby Braddock had always believed the -hidden hand to be Claire’s, and his attitude toward her from that day -had been one of stiff disapproval. - -But now, seeing her weeping and broken before him, with all the infernal -cheek which he so deprecated swept away on a wave of woe, his heart -softened. It has been a matter of much speculation among historians what -Wellington would have done if Napoleon had cried at Waterloo. - -“I say,” said Mr. Braddock, “what’s the matter? Anything up?” - -The sound of his voice seemed to penetrate Claire’s grief. She sat up -and looked at him damply. - -“Oh, Mr. Braddock,” she moaned, “I’m so wretched! I am so miserable, Mr. -Braddock!” - -“There, there!” said Willoughby Braddock. - -“How was I to know?” - -“Know what?” - -“I couldn’t tell.” - -“Tell which?” - -“I never had a notion he would act like that.” - -“Who would like what?” - -“Hash.” - -“You’ve spoiled the hash?” said Mr. Braddock, still out of his depth. - -“My Hash--Clarence. He took it the wrong way.” - -At last Mr. Braddock began to see daylight. She had cooked hash for this -Clarence, whoever he might be, and he had swallowed it in so erratic a -manner that it had choked him. - -“Is he dead?” he asked in a hushed voice. - -A piercing scream rang through the kitchen. - -“Oh! Oh! Oh!” - -“My dear old soul!” - -“He wouldn’t do that, would he?” - -“Do what?” - -“Oh, Mr. Braddock, do say he wouldn’t do that!” - -“What do you mean by ‘that’?” - -“Go and kill himself.” - -“Who?” - -“Hash.” - -Mr. Braddock removed the perfectly folded silk handkerchief from his -breast pocket and passed it across his forehead. - -“Look here,” he said limply, “you couldn’t tell me the whole thing from -the beginning in a few simple words, could you?” - -He listened with interest as Claire related the events of the day. - -“Then Clarence is Hash?” he said. - -“Yes.” - -“And Hash is Clarence?” - -“Yes; everyone calls him Hash.” - -“That was what was puzzling me,” said Mr. Braddock, relieved. “That was -the snag that I got up against all the time. Now that is clear, we can -begin to examine this thing in a calm and judicial spirit. Let’s see if -I’ve got it straight. You read this stuff in the paper and started -testing him--is that right?” - -“Yes. And instead of jousting, he just turned all cold-like and broke -off the engagement.” - -“I see. Well, dash it, the thing’s simple. All you want is for some -polished man of the world to take the blighter aside and apprise him of -the facts. Shall I pop round and see him now?” - -Claire’s tear-stained face lit up as if a light had been switched on -behind her eyes. She eyed Mr. Braddock devotedly. - -“Oh, if you only would!” - -“Of course I will--like a shot.” - -“Oh, you are good! I’m sorry I threw that onion at you, Mr. Braddock.” - -“Fault’s on both sides,” said Mr. Braddock magnanimously. “Now you stop -crying, like a good girl, and powder your nose and all that, and I’ll -have the lad round all pleasant and correct in a couple of minutes.” - -He patted Claire’s head in a brotherly fashion and trotted out through -the back door. - -A few minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. Molloy, searching feverishly in the -drawing-room of Mon Repos, heard a distant tinkle and looked at each -other with a wild surmise. - -“It’s the back doorbell,” said Dolly. - -“I told you,” said Mr. Molloy sombrely. “I knew this would happen. -What’ll we do?” - -Mrs. Molloy was not the woman to be shaken for long. - -“Why, go downstairs and answer it,” she said. “It’s prob’ly only a -tradesman come with a loaf of bread or something. He’ll think you’re the -help.” - -“And if he doesn’t,” replied Mr. Molloy with some bitterness, “I suppose -I bust him one with the meat ax. Looks to me as if I shall have to lay -out the whole darned population of this blamed place before I’m -through.” - -“Sweetie mustn’t be cross.” - -“Sweetie’s about fed up,” said Mr. Molloy sombrely. - - -§ 2 - -Expecting, when he opened the back door, to see a tradesman with a -basket on his arm, Soapy Molloy found no balm to his nervous system in -the apparition of a young man of the leisured classes in a faultlessly -cut grey suit. He gaped at Mr. Braddock. - -“Hullo,” said Mr. Braddock. - -“Hullo,” said Soapy. - -“Are you Hash?” inquired the ambassador. - -“Pardon?” - -“Is your name Clarence?” - -In happier circumstances Soapy would have denied the charge indignantly; -but now he decided that it was politic to be whatever anyone wished him -to be. - -“That’s me, brother,” he said. - -Mr. Braddock greatly disliked being called brother, but he made no -comment. - -“Well, I just buzzed round,” he said, “to tell you that everything’s all -right.” - -Soapy was far from agreeing with him. He was almost equally far from -understanding a word that this inexplicable visitor was saying. He -coughed loudly, to drown a strangled sound that had proceeded from the -gagged and bound Hash, whom he had deposited in a corner by the range. - -“That’s good,” he said. - -“About the girl, I mean. Claire, you know. I was in the kitchen next -door a moment ago, and she was crying and howling and all that because -she thought you didn’t love her any more.” - -“Too bad,” said Mr. Molloy. - -“It seems,” went on Mr. Braddock, “that she read something in a paper, -written by some silly ass, which said that she ought to test your -affection by pretending to flirt with some other cove. And when she did, -you broke off the engagement. And the gist, if you understand me, of -what I buzzed round to say is that she loves you still and was only -fooling when she sent that other bloke the lock of hair.” - -“Ah?” said Mr. Molloy. - -“So it’s all right, isn’t it?” - -“It’s all right by me,” said Mr. Molloy, wishing--for it sounded -interesting--that he knew what all this was about. - -“Then that’s that, what?” - -“You said it, brother.” - -Mr. Braddock paused. He seemed disappointed at a certain lack of emotion -on his companion’s part. - -“She’s rather expecting you to dash round right away, you know--fold her -in your arms, and all that.” - -This was a complication which Soapy had not foreseen. - -“Well, I’ll tell you,” he said. “I’ve a lot of work to do around this -house and I don’t quite see how I can get away. Say, listen, brother, -you tell her I’ll be round later on in the evening.” - -“All right. I’m glad everything’s satisfactory. She’s a nice girl -really.” - -“None better,” said Mr. Molloy generously. - -“I still think she threw a stone at my top hat that day, but dash it,” -said Mr. Braddock warmly, “let the dead past bury its dead, what?” - -“Couldn’t do a wiser thing,” said Mr. Molloy. - - * * * * * - -He closed the door; and having breathed a little stertorously, mounted -the stairs. - -“Who was it?” called Dolly from the first landing. - -“Some nut babbling about a girl.” - -“Oh? Well, I’m having a hunt round in the best bedroom. You go on -looking in the drawing-room.” - -Soapy turned his steps towards the drawing-room, but he did not reach -it. For as he was preparing to cross the threshold, the front doorbell -rang. - -It seemed to Soapy that he was being called upon to endure more than man -was ever intended to bear. That, at least, was his view as he dragged -his reluctant feet to the door. It was only when he opened it that he -realised that he had underestimated the malevolence of fate. Standing on -the top step was a policeman. - -“Hell!” cried Soapy. And while we blame him for the intemperate -ejaculation, we must in fairness admit that the situation seemed to call -for some such remark. He stood goggling, a chill like the stroke of an -icy finger running down his spine. - -“’Evening, sir,” said the policeman. “Mr. Shotter?” - -Soapy’s breath returned. - -“That’s me,” he said huskily. This thing, coming so soon after his -unrehearsed impersonation of Hash Todhunter, made him feel the sort of -dizzy feeling which a small-part actor must experience who has to open a -play as Jervis, a footman, and then rush up to his dressing room, make a -complete change and return five minutes later as Lord George Spelvin, -one of Lady Hemmingway’s guests at The Towers. - -The policeman fumbled in the recesses of his costume. - -“Noo resident, sir, I think?” - -“Yes.” - -“Then you will doubtless be glad,” said the policeman, shutting -his eyes and beginning to speak with great rapidity, as if he -were giving evidence in court, “of the opportunity to support a -charitibulorganization which is not only most deserving in itself but -is connected with a body of men to ’oom you as a house-’older will be -the first to admit that you owe the safety of your person and the -tranquillity of your home--the police,” explained the officer, opening -his eyes. - -Mr. Molloy did not look on the force in quite this light, but he could -not hurt the man’s feelings by saying so. - -“This charitibulorganizationtowhichIallude,” resumed the constable, -shutting his eyes again, “is the Policeman’s Orphanage, for which I have -been told of--one of several others--to sell tickets for the annual -concert of, to be ’eld at the Oddfellows ‘All in Ogilvy Street on the -coming sixteenth prox. Tickets, which may be purchased in any quantity -or number, consist of the five-shilling ticket, the half-crown ticket, -the two-shilling ticket, the shilling ticket and the sixpenny ticket.” -He opened his eyes. “May I have the pleasure of selling you and your -good lady a couple of the five-shilling?” - -“If I may add such weight as I possess to the request, I should -certainly advocate the purchase, Mr. Shotter. It is a most excellent and -deserving charity.” - -The speaker was a gentleman in clerical dress who had appeared from -nowhere and was standing at the constable’s side. His voice caused Soapy -a certain relief; for when, a moment before, a second dark figure had -suddenly manifested itself on the top step, he had feared that the -strain of the larger life was causing him to see double. - -“I take it that I am addressing Mr. Shotter?” continued the new-comer. -He was a hatchet-faced man with penetrating eyes and for one awful -moment he had looked to Soapy exactly like Sherlock Holmes. “I have just -taken up my duties as vicar of this parish, and I am making a little -preliminary round of visits so that I may become acquainted with my -parishioners. Mr. Cornelius, the house agent, very kindly gave me a list -of names. May I introduce myself?--the Rev. Aubrey Jerningham.” - -It has been well said that the world knows little of its greatest men. -This name, which would have thrilled Kay Derrick, made no impression -upon Soapy Molloy. He was not a great reader; and when he did read, it -was something a little lighter and more on the zippy side than _Is There -a Hell?_ - -“How do?” he said gruffly. - -“And ’ow many of the five-shilling may I sell you and your good lady?” -inquired the constable. His respect for the cloth had kept him silent -through the recent conversation, but now he seemed to imply that -business is business. - -“It is a most excellent charity,” said the Rev. Aubrey, edging past -Soapy in spite of that sufferer’s feeble effort to block the way. “And I -understand that several highly competent performers will appear on the -platform. I am right, am I not, officer?” - -“Yes, sir, you are quite right. In the first part of the program -Constable Purvis will render the ’Oly City--no, I’m a liar, Asleep on -the Deep; Constable Jukes will render imitations of well-known footlight -celebrities ’oo are familiartoyouall; Inspector Oakshott will render -conjuring tricks; Constable----” - -“An excellent evening’s entertainment, in fact,” said the Rev. Aubrey. -“I am taking the chair, I may mention.” - -“And the vicar is taking the chair,” said the policeman, swift to seize -upon this added attraction. “So ’ow many of the five-shilling may I sell -you and your good lady, sir?” - -Soapy, like Chimp, was a thrifty man; and apart from the expense, his -whole soul shrank from doing anything even remotely calculated to -encourage the force. Nevertheless, he perceived that there was no escape -and decided that it remained only to save as much as possible from the -wreck. - -“Gimme one,” he said, and the words seemed to be torn from him. - -“One only?” said the constable disappointedly. “’Ow about your good -lady?” - -“I’m not married.” - -“’Ow about your sister?” - -“I haven’t a sister.” - -“Then ’ow about if you ’appen to meet one of your gentlemen friends at -the club and he expresses a wish to come along?” - -“Gimme one!” said Soapy. - -The policeman gave him one, received the money, returned a few genial -words of thanks and withdrew. Soapy, going back into the house, was -acutely disturbed to find that the vicar had come too. - -“A most deserving charity,” said the vicar. - -Soapy eyed him bleakly. How did one get rid of vicars? Short of -employing his bride’s universal panacea and hauling off and busting him -one, Soapy could not imagine. - -“Have you been a resident of Valley Fields long, Mr. Shotter?” - -“No.” - -“I hope we shall see much of each other.” - -“Do you?” said Soapy wanly. - -“The first duty of a clergyman, in my opinion----” - -Mr. Molloy had no notion of what constituted the first duty of a -clergyman, and he was destined never to find out. For at this moment -there came from the regions above the clear, musical voice of a woman. - -“Sweet-ee!” - -Mr. Molloy started violently. So did the Rev. Aubrey Jerningham. - -“I’m in the bedroom, honey bunch. Come right on up.” - -A dull flush reddened the Rev. Aubrey’s ascetic face. - -“I understood you to say that you were not married, Mr. Shotter,” he -said in a metallic voice. - -“No--er--ah----” - -He caught the Rev. Aubrey’s eye. He was looking as Sherlock Holmes might -have looked had he discovered Doctor Watson stealing his watch. - -“No--I--er--ah----” - -It is not given to every man always to do the right thing in trying -circumstances. Mr. Molloy may be said at this point definitely to have -committed a social blunder. Winking a hideous, distorted wink, he raised -the forefinger of his right hand and with a gruesome archness drove it -smartly in between his visitor’s third and fourth ribs. - -“Oh, well, you know how it is,” he said thickly. - -The Rev. Aubrey Jerningham quivered from head to heel. He drew himself -up and looked at Soapy. The finger had given him considerable physical -pain, but it was the spiritual anguish that hurt the more. - -“I do, indeed, know how it is,” he said. - -“Man of the world,” said Soapy, relieved. - -“I will wish you good evening, Mr. Shotter,” said the Rev. Aubrey. - -The front door banged. Dolly appeared on the landing. - -“Why don’t you come up?” she said. - -“Because I’m going to lie down,” said Soapy, breathing heavily. - -“What do you mean?” - -“I want a rest. I need a rest, and I’m going to have it.” Dolly -descended to the hall. - -“Why, you’re looking all in, precious!” - -“‘All in’ is right. If I don’t ease off for a coupla minutes, you’ll -have to send for an ambulance.” - -“Well, I don’t know as I won’t take a spell myself. It’s kinda dusty -work, hunting around. I’ll go take a breath of air outside at the -back.... Was that somebody else calling just now?” - -“Yes, it was.” - -“Gee! These people round these parts don’t seem to have any homes of -their own, do they? Well, I’ll be back in a moment, honey. There’s a -sort of greenhouse place by the back door. Quite likely old Finglass may -have buried the stuff there.” - - -§ 3 - -The Rev. Aubrey Jerningham crossed the little strip of gravel that -served both Mon Repos and San Rafael as a drive and mounted the steps -to Mr. Wrenn’s front door. He was still quivering. - -“Mr. Wrenn?” he asked of the well-dressed young man who answered the -ring. - -Mr. Braddock shook his head. This was the second time in the last five -minutes that he had been taken for the owner of San Rafael; for while -the vicar had worked down Burberry Road from the top, the policeman had -started at the bottom and worked up. - -“Sorry,” he said, “Mr. Wrenn’s out.” - -“I will come in and wait,” said the Rev. Aubrey. - -“Absolutely,” said Mr. Braddock. - -He led the way to the drawing-room, feeling something of the -embarrassment, though in a slighter degree, which this holy man had -inspired in Soapy Molloy. He did not know much about vicars, and rather -wondered how he was to keep the conversation going. - -“Offer you a cup of tea?” - -“No, thank you.” - -“I’m afraid,” said Mr. Braddock apologetically, “I don’t know where they -keep the whisky.” - -“I never touch spirits.” - -Conversation languished. Willoughby Braddock began to find his companion -a little damping. Not matey. Seemed to be brooding on something, or Mr. -Braddock was very much mistaken. - -“You’re a clergyman, aren’t you, and all that?” he said, after a pause -of some moments. - -“I am. My name is the Rev. Aubrey Jerningham. I have just taken up my -duties as vicar of this parish.” - -“Ah? Jolly spot.” - -“Where every prospect pleases,” said the Rev. Aubrey, “and only man is -vile.” - -Silence fell once more. Mr. Braddock searched in his mind for genial -chatter, and found that he was rather short on clerical small talk. - -He thought for a moment of asking his visitor why it was that bishops -wore those rummy bootlace-looking things on their hats--a problem that -had always perplexed him; but decided that the other might take offence -at being urged to give away professional secrets. - -“How’s the choir coming along?” he asked. - -“The choir is quite satisfactory.” - -“That’s good. Organ all right?” - -“Quite, thank you.” - -“Fine!” said Mr. Braddock, feeling that things were beginning to move. -“You know, down where I live, in Wiltshire, the local padres always seem -to have the deuce of a lot of trouble with their organs. Their church -organs, I mean, of course. I’m always getting touched for contributions -to organ funds. Why is that? I’ve often wondered.” - -The Rev. Aubrey Jerningham forbore to follow him into this field of -speculation. - -“Then you do not live here, Mr.----” - -“Braddock’s my name--Willoughby Braddock. Oh, no, I don’t live here. -Just calling. Friend of the family.” - -“Ah? Then you are not acquainted with the--gentleman who lives next -door--Mr. Shotter?” - -“Oh, yes, I am! Sam Shotter? He’s one of my best pals. Known him for -years and years and years.” - -“Indeed? I cannot compliment you upon your choice of associates.” - -“Why, what’s wrong with Sam?” - -“Only this, Mr. Braddock,” said the Rev. Aubrey, his suppressed wrath -boiling over like a kettle: “He is living a life of open sin.” - -“Open which?” - -“Open sin. In the heart of my parish.” - -“I don’t get this. How do you mean--open sin?” - -“I have it from this man Shotter’s own lips that he is a bachelor.” - -“Yes, that’s right.” - -“And yet a few minutes ago I called at his house and found that there -was a woman residing there.” - -“A woman?” - -“A woman.” - -“But there can’t be. Sam’s not that sort of chap. Did you see her?” - -“I did not wait to see her. I heard her voice.” - -“I’ve got it,” said Mr. Braddock acutely. “She must have been a caller; -some casual popper-in, you know.” - -“In that case, what would she be doing in his bedroom?” - -“In his bedroom?” - -“In--his--bedroom! I came here to warn Mr. Wrenn, who, I understand from -Mr. Cornelius, has a young niece, to be most careful to allow nothing in -the shape of neighbourly relations between the two houses. Do you think -that Mr. Wrenn will be returning shortly?” - -“I couldn’t say. But look here,” said Mr. Braddock, troubled, “there -must be some mistake.” - -“You do not know where he is, by any chance?” - -“No--yes, I do, though. He said something about going to see Cornelius. -I think they play chess together or something. A game,” said Mr. -Braddock, “which I have never been able to get the hang of. But then I’m -not awfully good at those brainy games.” - -“I will go to Mr. Cornelius’ house,” said the Rev. Aubrey, rising. - -“You don’t play mah-jongg, do you?” asked Mr. Braddock. “Now, there’s a -game that I----” - -“If he is not there, I will return.” - -Left alone, Willoughby Braddock found that his appetite for tea had -deserted him. Claire, grateful for his services, had rather extended -herself over the buttered toast, but it had no appeal for him. He -lighted a cigarette and went out to fiddle with the machinery of his -two-seater, always an assistance to thought. - -But even the carburettor, which had one of those fascinating ailments to -which carburettors are subject, yielded him no balm. He was thoroughly -upset and worried. - -He climbed into the car and gave himself up to gloomy meditation, and -presently voices down the road announced the return of Kay and Sam. They -were chatting away in the friendliest possible fashion--from where he -sat, Willoughby Braddock could hear Kay’s clear laugh ringing out -happily--and it seemed to Mr. Braddock, though he was no austerer -moralist than the rest of his generation, that things were in a position -only to be described as a bit thick. He climbed down and waited on the -pavement. - -“Why, hullo, Willoughby,” said Kay. “This is fine. Have you just -arrived? Come in and have some tea.” - -“I’ve had tea, thanks. That girl Claire gave me some, thanks.... I say, -Sam, could I have a word with you?” - -“Say on,” said Sam. - -“In private, I mean. You don’t mind, Kay?” - -“Not a bit. I’ll go in and order tea.” - -Kay disappeared into the house; and Sam, looking at Mr. Braddock, -observed with some surprise that his face had turned a vivid red and -that his eyes were fastened upon him in a reproachful stare. - -“What’s up?” he asked, concerned. - -Willoughby Braddock cleared his throat. - -“You know, Sam----” - -“But I don’t,” said Sam, as he paused. - -“----you know, Sam, I’m not a--nobody would call me a---- Dash it, now -I’ve forgotten the word!” - -“Beauty?” hazarded Sam. - -“It’s on the tip of my tongue--Puritan. That’s the word I want. I’m not -a Puritan. Not strait-laced, you know. But, really, honestly, Sam, old -man--I mean, dash it all!” - -Sam stroked his chin thoughtfully. - -“I still don’t quite get it, Bradder,” he said. “What exactly is the -trouble?” - -“Well, I mean, on the premises, old boy, absolutely on the premises--is -it playing the game? I mean, next door to people who are pals of mine -and taking Kay to the theatre and generally going on as if nothing was -wrong.” - -“Well, what is wrong?” asked Sam patiently. - -“Well, when it comes to the vicar beetling in and complaining about -women in your bedroom----” - -“What?” - -“He said he heard her.” - -“Heard a woman in my bedroom?” - -“Yes.” - -“He must be crazy. When?” - -“Just now.” - -“This beats me.” - -“Well, that was what he said, anyway. Dashed unpleasant he was about it -too. Oh, and there’s another thing, Sam. I wish you’d ask that man of -yours not to call me brother. He----” - -“Great Cæsar!” said Sam. - -He took Willoughby Braddock by the arm and urged him toward the steps. -His face wore a purposeful look. - -“You go in, like a good chap, and talk to Kay,” he said. “Tell her I’ll -be in in a minute. There’s something I’ve got to look into.” - -“Yes, but listen----” - -“Run along!” - -“But I don’t understand.” - -“Push off!” - -Yielding to superior force, Willoughby Braddock entered San Rafael, -walking pensively. And Sam, stepping off the gravel onto the grass, -moved with a stealthy tread toward his home. Vague but lively suspicions -were filling his mind. - -He had reached the foot of the steps and paused to listen, when the -evening air was suddenly split by a sharp feminine scream. This was -followed by a joyous barking. And this in its turn was followed by the -abrupt appearance of a flying figure, racing toward the gate. It was -moving swiftly and the light was dim, but Sam had no difficulty in -recognising his old acquaintance Miss Gunn, of Pittsburgh. She fled -rapidly through the gate and out into Burberry Road, while Amy, looking -in the dusk like a small elephant, gambolled about her, uttering strange -canine noises. Dolly slammed the gate, but gates meant nothing to Amy. -She poured herself over it and the two passed into the darkness. - -Sam’s jaw set grimly. He moved with noiseless steps to the door of Mon -Repos and took out his key. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - -MAINLY ABOUT TROUSERS - - -§ 1 - -The meeting between Amy and Mrs. Molloy had taken place owing to the -resolve of the latter to search the small conservatory which stood -outside the back door. She had told Soapy that she thought the missing -bonds might be hidden there. They were not, but Amy was. The -conservatory was a favourite sleeping porch of Amy’s, and thither she -had repaired on discovering that her frolicsome overtures to Hash had -been taken in the wrong spirit. - -Mrs. Molloy’s feelings, on groping about in the dark and suddenly poking -her hand into the cavernous mouth of the largest dog she had ever -encountered, have perhaps been sufficiently indicated by the description -of her subsequent movements. Iron-nerved woman though she was, this was -too much for her. - -The single scream which she emitted, previous to saving her breath for -the race for life, penetrated only faintly to where Mr. Molloy sat -taking a rest on the sofa in the drawing-room. He heard it, but it had -no message for him. He was feeling a little better now, and his -ganglions, though not having ceased to vibrate with uncomfortable -rapidity, were beginning to simmer down. He decided that he would give -himself another couple of minutes of repose. - -It was toward the middle of the second minute that the door opened -quietly and Sam came in. He stood looking at the recumbent Mr. Molloy -for a moment. - -“Comfortable?” he said. - -Soapy shot off the sofa with a sort of gurgling whoop. Of all the -disturbing events of that afternoon, this one had got more surely in -amongst his nerve centres than any other. He had not heard the door -open, and Sam’s voice had been the first intimation that he was no -longer alone. - -“I’m afraid I startled you,” said Sam. - -The exigencies of a difficult profession had made Soapy Molloy a quick -thinker. Frequently in the course of a busy life he had found himself in -positions where a split second was all that was allowed him for forming -a complete plan of action. His trained mind answered to the present -emergency like a machine. - -“You certainly did startle me,” he said bluffly, in his best Thomas G. -Gunn manner. “You startled the daylights out of me. So here you are at -last, Mr. Shotter.” - -“Yes, here I am.” - -“I have been waiting quite some little time. I’m afraid you caught me on -the point of going to sleep.” - -He chuckled, as a man will when the laugh is on him. - -“I should imagine,” said Sam, “that it would take a smart man to catch -you asleep.” - -Mr. Molloy chuckled again. - -“Just what the boys used to say of me in Denver City.” He paused and -looked at Sam a little anxiously. “Say, you do remember me, Mr. -Shotter?” - -“I certainly do.” - -“You remember my calling here the other day to see my old home?” - -“I remember you before that--when you were in Sing Sing.” - -He turned away to light the gas, and Mr. Molloy was glad of the interval -for thought afforded by this action. - -“Sing Sing?” - -“Yes.” - -“You were never there.” - -“I went there to see a show, in which you took an important part. I -forget what your number was.” - -“And what of it?” - -“Eh?” - -Mr. Molloy drew himself up with considerable dignity. - -“What of it?” he repeated. “What if I was for a brief period--owing to a -prejudiced judge and a packed jury--in the place you mention? I decline -to have the fact taken as a slur on my character. You are an American, -Mr. Shotter, and you know that there is unfortunately a dark side to -American politics. My fearless efforts on behalf of the party of reform -and progress brought me into open hostility with a gang of unscrupulous -men, who did not hesitate to have me arrested on a trumped-up charge -and----” - -“All this,” said Sam, “would go a lot stronger with me if I hadn’t found -you burgling my house.” - -It would have been difficult to say whether the expression that swept -over Mr. Molloy’s fine face was more largely indignation or amazement. - -“Burgling your house? Are you insane? I called here in the hope of -seeing you, was informed that you were not at home, and was invited by -your manservant, a most civil fellow, to await your return. Burgling -your house, indeed! If I were, would you have found me lying on the -sofa?” - -“Hash let you in?” - -Such was the magnetic quality of the personality of one who had often -sold large blocks of shares in nonexistent oil wells to Scotchmen, that -Sam was beginning in spite of himself to be doubtful. - -“If Hash is the name of your manservant, most certainly he let me in. He -admitted me by the front door in the perfectly normal and conventional -manner customary when gentlemen pay calls.” - -“Where is Hash?” - -“Why ask me?” - -Sam went to the door. The generous indignation of his visitor had caused -him to waver, but it had not altogether convinced him. - -“Hash!” he called. - -“He appears to be out.” - -“Hash!” - -“Gone for a walk, no doubt.” - -“Hash!” shouted Sam. - -From the regions below there came an answering cry. - -“Hi! Help!” - -It had been a long and arduous task for Hash Todhunter to expel from his -mouth the duster which Soapy Molloy had rammed into it with such -earnest care, but he had accomplished it at last, and his voice sounded -to Mr. Molloy like a knell. - -“He appears to be in, after all,” he said feebly. - -Sam had turned and was regarding him fixedly, and Soapy noted with a -sinking heart the athletic set of his shoulders and the large -muscularity of his hands. “Haul off and bust him one!” his wife’s gentle -voice seemed to whisper in his ear; but eying Sam, he knew that any such -project was but a Utopian dream. Sam had the unmistakable look of one -who, if busted, would infallibly bust in return and bust -disintegratingly. - -“You tied him up, I suppose,” said Sam, with a menacing calm. - -Soapy said nothing. There is a time for words and a time for silence. - -Sam looked at him in some perplexity. He had begun to see that he was -faced with the rather delicate problem of how to be in two places at the -same time. He must, of course, at once go down to the kitchen and -release Hash. But if he did that, would not this marauder immediately -escape by the front door? And if he took him down with him to the -kitchen, the probability was that he would escape by the back door. -While if he merely left him in this room and locked the door, he would -proceed at once to depart by the window. - -It was a nice problem, but all problems are capable of solution. Sam -solved this one in a spasm of pure inspiration. He pointed a menacing -finger at Soapy. - -“Take off those trousers!” he said. - -Soapy gaped. The intellectual pressure of the conversation had become -too much for him. - -“Trousers?” he faltered. - -“Trousers. You know perfectly well what trousers are,” said Sam, “and -it’s no good pretending you don’t. Take them off!” - -“Take off my trousers?” - -“Good Lord!” said Sam with sudden petulance. “What’s the matter with the -man. You do it every night, don’t you? You do it when you take a Turkish -bath, don’t you? Where’s the difficulty? Peel them off and don’t waste -time.” - -“But----” - -“Listen!” said Sam. “If those trousers are not delivered to me f. o. b. -in thirty seconds, I’ll bust you one!” - -He had them in eighteen. - -“Now,” said Sam, “I think you’ll find it a little difficult to get -away.” - -He gathered up the garments, draped them over his arm and went down to -the kitchen. - - -§ 2 - -Love is the master passion. It had come to Hash Todhunter late, but, -like measles, the more violent for the delay. A natural inclination to -go upstairs and rend his recent aggressor limb from limb faded before -the more imperious urge to dash across to San Rafael and see Claire. It -was the first thing of which he spoke when Sam, with the aid of a -carving knife, had cut his bonds. - -“I got to see ’er!” - -“Are you hurt, Hash?” - -“No, ’e only ’it me on the ’ead. I got to see ’er, Sam.” - -“Claire?” - -“Ah! The pore little angel, crying ’er ruddy eyes out. The gentleman was -saying all about it.” - -“What gentleman?” - -“A gentleman come to the back door and told that perisher all about how -the pore little thing was howling and weeping and all, thinking ’e was -me.” - -“Have you had a quarrel with Claire?” - -“We ’ad words. I got to see ’er.” - -“You shall. Can you walk?” - -“Of course I can walk. Why shouldn’t I walk?” - -“Come along then.” - -In spite of his assurance, however, Hash found his cramped limbs hard to -steer. Sam had to lend an arm, and their progress was slow. - -“Sam,” said Hash, after a pause which had been intended primarily for -massage, but which had plainly been accompanied by thought, “do you know -anything about getting married?” - -“Only that it is an excellent thing to do.” - -“I mean, ’ow quick can a feller get married?” - -“Like a flash, I believe. At any rate, if he goes to a registrar’s.” - -“I’m going to a registrar’s then. I’ve ’ad enough of these what I might -call misunderstandings.” - -“Brave words, Hash! How are the legs?” - -“The legs are all right. It’s her mother I’m thinking of.” - -“You always seem to be thinking of her mother. Are you quite sure -you’ve picked the right one of the family?” - -Hash had halted again, and his face was that of a man whose soul was a -battlefield. - -“Sam, ’er mother wants to come and live with us when we’re married.” - -“Well, why not?” - -“Ah, you ain’t seen her, Sam! She’s got a hooked nose and an eye like -one of these animal trainers. Still----” - -The battle appeared to be resumed once more. - -“Oh, well!” said Hash. He mused for a while. “You’ve got to look at it -all round, you know.” - -“Exactly.” - -“And there’s this to think of: She says she’ll buy a pub for us.” - -“Pubs are pubs,” agreed Sam. - -“I’ve always wanted to have a pub of my own.” - -“Then I shouldn’t hesitate.” - -Hash suddenly saw the poetic side of the vision. - -“Won’t my little Clara look a treat standing behind a bar, serving the -drinks and singing out, ‘Time, gentlemen, please!’ Can’t you see her -scraping the froth off the mugs?” - -He fell into a rapt silence, and said no more while Sam escorted him -through the back door of San Rafael and led him into the kitchen. - -There, rightly considering that the sacred scene of re-union was not for -his eyes, Sam turned away. Gently depositing the nether garments of Mr. -Molloy on the table, he left them together and made his way to the -drawing-room. - - -§ 3 - -The first thing he heard as he opened the door was Kay’s voice. - -“I don’t care,” she was saying. “I simply don’t believe it.” - -He went in and discovered that she was addressing her uncle, Mr. Wrenn, -and the white-bearded Mr. Cornelius. They were standing together by the -mantelpiece, their attitude the sheepish and browbeaten one of men who -have been rash enough to argue with a woman. Mr. Wrenn was fiddling with -his tie, and Mr. Cornelius looked like a druid who is having a little -unpleasantness with the widow of the deceased. - -Sam’s entrance was the signal for an awkward silence. - -“Hullo, Mr. Wrenn,” said Sam. “Good evening, Mr. Cornelius.” - -Mr. Wrenn looked at Mr. Cornelius. Mr. Cornelius looked at Mr. Wrenn. - -“Say something,” said Mr. Cornelius’ eye to Mr. Wrenn. “You are her -uncle.” - -“You say something,” retorted Mr. Wrenn’s eye to Mr. Cornelius. “You -have a white beard.” - -“I’m sorry I’ve been such a time,” said Sam to Kay. “I have had a little -domestic trouble. I found a gentleman burgling my house.” - -“What?” - -“There had been a lady there, too, but she was leaving as I arrived.” - -“A lady!” - -“Well, let us call her a young female party.” - -Kay swung round on Mr. Wrenn, her eyes gleaming with the light that -shines only in the eyes of girls who are entitled to say “I told you -so!” to elderly relatives. Mr. Wrenn avoided her gaze. Mr. Cornelius -plucked at his beard and registered astonishment. - -“Burgling your house? What for?” - -“That’s what’s puzzling me. These two people seem extraordinarily -interested in Mon Repos. They called some days ago and wanted to buy the -place, and now I find them burgling it.” - -“Good heavens!” cried Mr. Cornelius. “I wonder! Can it be possible?” - -“I shouldn’t wonder. It might,” said Sam. “What?” - -“Do you remember my telling you, Mr. Shotter, when you came to me about -the lease of the house that a well-known criminal had once lived there?” - -“Yes.” - -“A man named Finglass. Do you remember Finglass, Wrenn?” - -“No; he must have been before my time.” - -“How long have you been here?” - -“About three years and a half.” - -“Ah, then it was before your time. This man robbed the New Asiatic Bank -of something like four hundred thousand pounds’ worth of securities. He -was never caught, and presumably fled the country. You will find the -whole story in my history of Valley Fields. Can it be possible that -Finglass hid the bonds in Mon Repos and was unable to get back there and -remove them?” - -“You said it!” cried Sam enthusiastically. - -“It would account for the anxiety of these people to obtain access to -the house.” - -“Why, of course!” said Kay. - -“It sounds extremely likely,” said Mr. Wrenn. - -“Was the man tall and thin, with a strong cast in the left eye?” - -“No; a square-faced sort of fellow.” - -“Then it would not be Finglass himself. No doubt some other criminal, -some associate of his, who had learned from him that the bonds were -hidden in the house. I wish I had my history here,” said Mr. Cornelius. -“Several pages of it are devoted to Finglass.” - -“I’ll tell you what,” said Sam, “go and get it.” - -“Shall I?” - -“Yes, do.” - -“Very well. Will you come with me, Wrenn?” - -“Certainly he will,” said Sam warmly. “Mr. Wrenn would like a breath of -fresh air.” - -With considerable satisfaction he heard the front door close on the -non-essential members of the party. - -“What an extraordinary thing!” said Kay. - -“Yes,” said Sam, drawing his chair closer. “The aspect of the affair -that strikes me----” - -“What became of the man?” - -“He’s all right. I left him in the drawing-room.” - -“But he’ll escape.” - -“Oh, no.” - -“Why not?” - -“Well, he won’t.” - -“But all he’s got to do is walk out of the door.” - -“Yes, but he won’t do it.” Sam drew his chair still closer. “I was -saying that the aspect of the affair that strikes me most forcibly is -that now I shall be in a position to marry and do it properly.” - -“Are you thinking of marrying someone?” - -“I think of nothing else. Well, now, to look into this. The bank will -probably give a ten per cent reward for the return of the stuff. Even -five per cent would be a nice little sum. That fixes the financial end -of the thing. So now----” - -“You seem very certain that you will find this money.” - -“Oh, I shall find it, have no fear. If it’s there----” - -“Yes, but perhaps it isn’t.” - -“I feel sure that it is. So now let’s make our plans. We will buy a farm -somewhere, don’t you think?” - -“I have no objection to your buying a farm.” - -“I said we. We will buy a farm, and there settle down and live to a ripe -old age on milk, honey and the produce of the soil. You will wear a -gingham gown, I shall grow a beard. We will keep dogs, pigeons, cats, -sheep, fowls, horses, cows, and a tortoise to keep in the garden. Good -for the snails,” explained Sam. - -“Bad for them, I should think. Are you fond of tortoises?” - -“Aren’t you?” - -“Not very.” - -“Then,” said Sam magnanimously, “we will waive the tortoise.” - -“It sounds like a forgotten sport of the past--Waving the Tortoise.” - -“To resume. We decide on the farm. Right! Now where is it to be? You are -a Wiltshire girl, so no doubt will prefer that county. I can’t afford -to buy back Midways for you, I’m afraid, unless on second thoughts I -decide to stick to the entire proceeds instead of handing them back to -the bank--we shall have to talk that over later--but isn’t there some -old greystone, honeysuckle-covered place in the famous Braddock -estates?” - -“Good heavens!” - -“What’s the matter?” - -“You said you had left that man in your drawing-room.” - -“Well?” - -“I’ve suddenly remembered that I sent Willoughby over to Mon Repos ten -minutes ago to find out why you were so long. He’s probably being -murdered.” - -“Oh, I shouldn’t think so. To go back to what I was saying----” - -“You must go and see at once.” - -“Do you really think it’s necessary?” - -“Of course it is.” - -“Oh, very well.” - -Sam rose reluctantly. Life, he felt with considerable peevishness, was -one long round of interruptions. He went round to the door of Mon Repos -and let himself in with his key. A rumble of voices proceeding from the -drawing-room greeted him as he entered. He banged the door, and a moment -later Mr. Braddock came out, looking a little flustered. - -“Oh, there you are, Sam! I was just coming round to fetch you.” - -“Anything wrong?” - -“It depends on what you call wrong.” Mr. Braddock closed the -drawing-room door carefully. “You know Lord Tilbury?” - -“Of course I know Lord Tilbury.” - -“Well, he’s in there,” said Willoughby Braddock, jerking an awed thumb -toward the drawing-room, “and he hasn’t got any trousers on.” - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - -SAM HEARS BAD NEWS - - -Sam uttered a cry of exceeding bitterness. Nothing is more galling to -your strategist than to find that some small, unforeseen accident has -occurred and undone all his schemes. The one thing for which he had -omitted to allow was the possibility of some trousered caller wandering -in during his absence and supplying Mr. Molloy with the means of escape. - -“So he’s gone, I suppose?” he said morosely. - -“No, he’s still here,” said Mr. Braddock. “In the drawing-room.” - -“The man, I mean.” - -“What man?” - -“The other man.” - -“What other man?” asked Mr. Braddock, whose exacting afternoon had begun -to sap his mental powers. - -“Oh, never mind,” said Sam impatiently. “What did Lord Tilbury want, -coming down here, confound him?” - -“Came to see you about something, I should think,” surmised Mr. -Braddock. - -“Didn’t he tell you what it was?” - -“No. As a matter of fact, we’ve been chatting mostly about trousers. You -haven’t got a spare pair in the house by any chance, have you?” - -“Of course I have--upstairs.” - -“Then I wish,” said Mr. Braddock earnestly, “that you would dig them out -and give them to the old boy. He’s been trying for the last ten minutes -to get me to lend him mine, and it simply can’t be done. I’ve got to be -getting back to town soon to dress for dinner, and you can say what you -like, a fellow buzzing along in a two-seater without any trousers on -looks conspicuous.” - -“Darn that fool, coming down here at just this time!” said Sam, still -aggrieved. “What exactly happened?” - -“Well, he’s a bit on the incoherent side; but as far as I can make out, -that man of yours, the chap who called me brother, seems to have gone -completely off his onion. Old Tilbury rang the front doorbell, and there -was a bit of a pause, and then this chap opened the door and old Tilbury -went in, and then he happened to look at him and saw that he hadn’t any -trousers on.” - -“That struck him as strange, of course.” - -“Apparently he hadn’t much time to think about it, for the bloke -immediately proceeded to hold him up with a gun.” - -“He hadn’t got a gun.” - -“Well, old Tilbury asserts that he was shoving something against his -pocket from inside.” - -“His finger, or a pipe.” - -“No, I say, really!” Mr. Braddock’s voice betrayed the utmost -astonishment and admiration. “Would that be it? I call that clever.” - -“Well, he hadn’t a gun when I caught him or he would have used it on me. -What happened then?” - -“How do you mean--caught him?” - -“I found him burgling the house.” - -“Was that chap who called me brother a burglar?” cried Mr. Braddock, -amazed. “I thought he was your man.” - -“Well, he wasn’t. What happened next?” - -“The bloke proceeded to de-bag old Tilbury. Then shoving on the -trousers, he started to leg it. Old Tilbury at this juncture appears to -have said ‘Hi! What about me?’ or words to that effect; upon which the -bloke replied, ‘Use your own judgment!’ and passed into the night. When -I came in, old Tilbury was in the drawing-room, wearing the evening -paper as a sort of kilt and not looking too dashed pleased with things -in general.” - -“Well, come along and see him.” - -“Not me,” said Mr. Braddock. “I’ve had ten minutes of him and it has -sufficed. Also, I’ve got to be buzzing up to town. I’m dining out. -Besides, it’s you he wants to see, not me.” - -“I wonder what he wants to see me about.” - -“Must be something important to bring him charging down here. Well, I’ll -be moving, old boy. Mustn’t keep you. Thanks for a very pleasant -afternoon.” - -Willoughby Braddock took his departure; and Sam, having gone to his -bedroom and found a pair of grey flannel trousers, returned to the lower -regions and went into the drawing-room. - - * * * * * - -He had not expected to find his visitor in anything approaching a mood -of sunniness, but he was unprepared for the red glare of hate and -hostility in the eyes which seared their way through him as he entered. -It almost seemed as if Lord Tilbury imagined the distressing happenings -of the last quarter of an hour to be Sam’s fault. - -“So there you are!” said Lord Tilbury. - -He had been standing with an air of coyness behind the sofa; but now, as -he observed the trousers over Sam’s arm, he swooped forward feverishly -and wrenched them from him. He pulled them on, muttering thickly to -himself; and this done, drew himself up and glared at his host once more -with that same militant expression of loathing in his eyes. - -He seemed keenly alive to the fact that he was not looking his best. Sam -was a long-legged man, and in the case of Lord Tilbury, Nature, having -equipped him with an outsize in brains, had not bothered much about his -lower limbs. The borrowed trousers fell in loose folds about his ankles, -brushing the floor. Nor did they harmonise very satisfactorily with the -upper portion of a morning suit. Seeing him, Sam could not check a faint -smile of appreciation. - -Lord Tilbury saw the smile, and it had the effect of increasing his fury -to the point where bubbling rage becomes a sort of frozen calm. - -“You are amused,” he said tensely. - -Sam repudiated the dreadful charge. - -“No, no! Just thinking of something.” - -“Cor!” said Lord Tilbury. - -Sam perceived that a frank and soothing explanation must be his first -step. After that, and only after that, could he begin to institute -inquiries as to why His Lordship had honoured him with this visit. - -“That fellow who stole your trousers----” - -“I have no wish to discuss him,” said Lord Tilbury with hauteur. “The -fact that you employ a lunatic manservant causes me no surprise.” - -“He wasn’t my manservant. He was a burglar.” - -“A burglar? Roaming at large about the house? Did you know he was here?” - -“Oh, yes. I caught him and I made him take his trousers off, and then I -went next door to tea.” - -Lord Tilbury expelled a long breath. - -“Indeed? You went next door to tea?” - -“Yes.” - -“Leaving this--this criminal----” - -“Well, I knew he couldn’t get away. Oh, I had reasoned it all out. Your -happening to turn up was just a bit of bad luck. Was there anything you -wanted to see me about?” asked Sam, feeling that the sooner this -interview terminated the pleasanter it would be. - -Lord Tilbury puffed out his cheeks and stood smouldering for a moment. -In the agitation of the recent occurrences, he had almost forgotten the -tragedy which had sent him hurrying down to Mon Repos. - -“Yes, there was,” he said. He sizzled for another brief instant. “I may -begin by telling you,” he said, “that your uncle, Mr. Pynsent, when he -sent you over here to join my staff, practically placed me _in loco -parentis_ with respect to you.” - -“An excellent idea,” said Sam courteously. - -“An abominable idea! It was an iniquitous thing to demand of a busy man -that he should take charge of a person of a character so erratic, so -undisciplined, so--er--eccentric as to border closely upon the insane.” - -“Insane?” said Sam. He was wounded to the quick by the injustice of -these harsh words. From first to last, he could think of no action of -his that had not been inspired and guided throughout by the dictates of -pure reason. “Who, me?” - -“Yes, you! It was a monstrous responsibility to give any man, and I -consented to undertake it only because--er----” - -“I know. My uncle told me,” said Sam, to help him out. “You had some -business deal on, and you wanted to keep in with him.” - -Lord Tilbury showed no gratitude for this kindly prompting. - -“Well,” he said bitterly, “it may interest you to know that the deal to -which you refer has fallen through.” - -“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” said Sam sympathetically. “That’s tough -luck. I’m afraid my uncle is a queer sort of fellow to do business -with.” - -“I received a cable from him this afternoon, informing me that he had -changed his mind and would be unable to meet me in the matter.” - -“Too bad,” said Sam. “I really am sorry.” - -“And it is entirely owing to you, you may be pleased to learn.” - -“Me? Why, what have I done?” - -“I will tell you what you have done. Mr. Pynsent’s cable was in answer -to one from me, in which I informed him that you were in the process of -becoming entangled with a girl.” - -“What?” - -“You need not trouble to deny it. I saw you with my own eyes lunching -together at the Savoy, and I happen to know that this afternoon you took -her to the theatre.” - -Sam looked at him dizzily. - -“You aren’t--you can’t by any chance be referring to Miss Derrick?” - -“Of course I am referring to Miss Derrick.” - -So stupendous was Sam’s amazement that anybody could describe what was -probably the world’s greatest and most beautiful romance as “becoming -entangled with a girl” that he could only gape. - -“I cabled to Mr. Pynsent, informing him of the circumstances and asking -for instructions.” - -“You did what?” Sam’s stupor of astonishment had passed away, whirled to -the four winds on a tempestuous rush of homicidal fury. “You mean to -tell me that you had the--the nerve--the insolence----” He gulped. Being -a young man usually quick to express his rare bursts of anger in terms -of action, he looked longingly at Lord Tilbury, regretting that the -latter’s age and physique disqualified him as a candidate for assault -and battery. “Do you mean to tell me----” He swallowed rapidly. The -thought of this awful little man spying upon Kay and smirching her with -his loathly innuendoes made mere words inadequate. - -“I informed Mr. Pynsent that you were conducting a clandestine love -affair and asked him what I was to do.” - -To Sam, like some blessed inspiration, there came a memory of a scene -that had occurred in his presence abaft the fiddley of the tramp steamer -_Araminta_ when that vessel was two days out of New York. A dreamy -able-bodied seaman, thoughts of home or beer having temporarily taken -his mind off his job, had chanced to wander backward onto the foot of -the bos’n while the latter was crossing the deck with a full pot of -paint in his hands. And the bos’n, recovering his breath, had condensed -his feelings into two epithets so elastic and comprehensive that, while -they were an exact description of the able-bodied seaman, they applied -equally well to Lord Tilbury. Indeed, it seemed to Sam that they might -have been invented expressly for Lord Tilbury’s benefit. - -A moment before he had been deploring the inadequacy of mere words. But -these were not mere words. They were verbal dynamite. - -“You so-and-so!” said Sam. “You such-and-such!” - -Sailors are toughened by early training and long usage to bear -themselves phlegmatically beneath abuse. Lord Tilbury had had no such -advantages. He sprang backward as if he had been scalded by a sudden jet -of boiling water. - -“You pernicious little bounder!” said Sam. He strode to the door and -flung it open. “Get out!” - -If ever there was an occasion on which a man might excusably have said -“Sir!” this was it; and no doubt, had he been able to speak, this was -the word which Lord Tilbury would have used. Nearly a quarter of a -century had passed since he had been addressed in this fashion to his -face, and the thing staggered him. - -“Get out!” repeated Sam. “What the devil,” he inquired peevishly, “are -you doing here, poisoning the air?” - -Lord Tilbury felt no inclination to embark upon a battle of words in -which he appeared to be in opposition to an expert. Dazedly he flapped -out into the hall, the grey flannel trousers swirling about his feet. At -the front door, however, it suddenly occurred to him that he had not yet -fired the most important shell in his ammunition wagon. He turned at -bay. - -“Wait!” he cried. “I may add----” - -“No, you mayn’t,” said Sam. - -“I wish to add----” - -“Keep moving!” - -“I insist on informing you,” shouted Lord Tilbury, plucking at the -trousers with a nautical twitch, “of this one thing: Your uncle said in -his cable that you were to take the next boat back to America.” - -It had not been Sam’s intention to permit anything to shake the stern -steeliness of his attitude, but this information did it. He stopped -midway in an offensive sniff designed to afford a picturesque -illustration of his view on the other’s air-poisoning qualities and -gazed at him blankly. - -“Did he say that?” - -“Yes, he did.” Sam scratched his chin thoughtfully. Lord Tilbury began -to feel a little better. “And,” he continued, “as I should imagine that -a young man of your intellectual attainments has little scope for making -a living except by sponging on his rich relatives, I presume that you -will accede to his wishes. In case you may still suppose that you are a -member of the staff of Tilbury House, I will disabuse you of that view. -You are not.” - -Sam remained silent; and Lord Tilbury, expanding and beginning to -realise that there is nothing unpleasant about a battle of words -provided that the battling is done in the right quarter, proceeded. - -“I only engaged you as a favour to your uncle. On your merits you could -not have entered Tilbury House as an office boy. I say,” he repeated in -a louder voice, “that, had there been no question of obliging Mr. -Pynsent, I would not have engaged you as an office boy.” - -Sam came out of his trance. - -“Are you still here?” he said, annoyed. - -“Yes, I am still here. And let me tell you----” - -“Listen!” said Sam. “If you aren’t out of this house in two seconds, -I’ll take those trousers back.” - -Every Achilles has his heel. Of all the possible threats that Sam could -have used, this was probably the only one to which Lord Tilbury, in his -dangerously elevated and hostile frame of mind, would have paid heed. -For one moment he stood swelling like a toy balloon, then he slid out -and the door banged behind him. - -A dark shape loomed up before Lord Tilbury as he stood upon the gravel -outside the portal of Mon Repos. Beside this shape there frolicked -another and a darker one. - -“’Evening, sir.” - -Lord Tilbury perceived through the gloom that he was being addressed by -a member of the force. He made no reply. He was not in the mood for -conversation with policemen. - -“Bringing your dog back,” said the officer genially. “Found ’er roaming -about at the top of the street.” - -“It is not my dog,” said Lord Tilbury between set teeth, repelling Amy -as she endeavoured in her affable way to climb on to his neck. - -“Not a member of the ’ousehold, sir? Just a neighbour making a friendly -call? I see. Now I wonder,” said the policeman, “if any of my mates ’ave -approached you on the matter of this concert in aid of a -charitubulorganisation which is not only most deserving in itself but is -connected with a body of men to ’oom you as a nouse’older will----” - -“G-r-r-h!” said Lord Tilbury. - -He bounded out of the gate. Dimly, as he waddled down Burberry Road, the -grey flannel trousers brushing the pavement with a musical swishing -sound, there came to him, faint but pursuing, the voice of the -indefatigable policeman: - -“This charitubulorganisationtowhichIallude----” - -Out of the night, sent from heaven, there came a crawling taxicab. Lord -Tilbury poured himself in and sank back on the seat, a spent force. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - -SAM HEARS GOOD NEWS - - -Kay came out into the garden of San Rafael. Darkness had fallen now, and -the world was full of the sweet, wet scents of an autumn night. She -stood still for a moment, sniffing, and a little pang of home-sickness -shot through her. The garden smelled just like Midways. This was how she -always remembered Midways most vividly, with the shadows cloaking the -flower beds, the trees dripping and the good earth sending up its -incense to a starlit sky. - -When she shut her eyes she could almost imagine that she was back there. -Then somebody began to whistle in the road and a train clanked into the -station and the vision faded. - -A faint odour of burning tobacco came to her, and on the lawn next door -she saw the glow of a pipe. - -“Sam!” she called. - -His footsteps crunched on the gravel and he joined her at the fence. - -“You’re a nice sort of person, aren’t you?” said Kay. “Why didn’t you -come back?” - -“I had one or two things to think about.” - -“Willoughby dashed in for a minute and told me an incoherent story. So -the man got away?” - -“Yes.” - -“Poor Lord Tilbury!” said Kay, with a sudden silvery little bubble of -laughter. - -Sam said nothing. - -“What did he want, by the way?” - -“He came to tell me that he had had a cable from my uncle saying that I -was to go back at once.” - -“Oh!” said Kay with a little gasp, and there was silence. “Go back--to -America?” - -“Yes.” - -“At once?” - -“Wednesday’s boat, I suppose.” - -“Not this very next Wednesday?” - -“Yes.” - -There was another silence. The night was as still as if the clock had -slipped back and Valley Fields had become the remote country spot of two -hundred years ago. - -“Are you going?” - -“I suppose so.” - -From far away, out in the darkness, came the faint grunting of a train -as it climbed the steep gradient of Sydenham Hill. An odd forlorn -feeling swept over Kay. - -“Yes, I suppose you must,” she said. “You can’t afford to offend your -uncle, can you?” - -Sam moved restlessly, and there was a tiny rasping sound as his hand -scraped along the fence. - -“It isn’t that,” he said. - -“But your uncle’s very rich, isn’t he?” - -“What does that matter?” Sam’s voice shook. “Lord Tilbury was good -enough to inform me that my only way of making a living was to sponge on -my uncle, but I’m not going to have you thinking it.” - -“But--well, why are you going then?” - -Sam choked. - -“I’ll tell you why I’m going. Simply because I might as well be in New -York as anywhere. If there was the slightest hope that by staying on -here I could get you to--to marry me----” His hand rasped on the fence -again. “Of course, I know there isn’t. I know you don’t take me -seriously. I haven’t any illusions about myself. I know just what I -amount to in your eyes. I’m the fellow who blunders about and trips over -himself and is rather amusing when you’re in the mood. But I don’t -count. I don’t amount to anything.” Kay stirred in the darkness, but she -did not speak. “You think I’m kidding all the time. Well, I just want -you to know this--that I’m not kidding about the way I feel about you. I -used to dream over that photograph before I’d ever met you. And when I -met you I knew one thing for certain, and that was there wasn’t ever -going to be anyone except you ever. I know you don’t care about me and -never will. Why should you? What on earth is there about me that could -make you? I’m just a----” - -A little ripple of laughter came from the shadows. - -“Poor old Sam!” said Kay. - -“Yes! There you are--in a nutshell! Poor old Sam!” - -“I’m sorry I laughed. But it was so funny to hear you denouncing -yourself in that grand way.” - -“Exactly! Funny!” - -“Well, what’s wrong with being funny? I like funny people. I’d no notion -you had such hidden depths, Sam. Though, of course, the palmist said -you had, didn’t she?” - -The train had climbed the hill and was now rumbling off into the -distance. A smell of burning leaves came floating over the gardens. - -“I don’t blame you for laughing,” said Sam. “Pray laugh if you wish to.” - -Kay availed herself of the permission. - -“Oh, Sam, you are a pompous old ass, aren’t you? ‘Pray laugh if you wish -to’!... Sam!” - -“Well?” - -“Do you really mean that you would stay on in England if I promised to -marry you?” - -“Yes.” - -“And offend your rich uncle for life and get cut off with a dollar or -whatever they cut nephews off with in America?” - -“Yes.” - -Kay reached up at Sam’s head and gave his hair a little proprietorial -tug. - -“Well, why don’t you, Sambo?” she said softly. - -It seemed to Sam that in some strange way his powers of breathing had -become temporarily suspended. A curious dry feeling had invaded his -throat. He could hear his heart thumping. - -“What?” he croaked huskily. - -“I said why--do--you--not, Samivel?” whispered Kay, punctuating the -words with little tugs. - -Sam found himself on the other side of the fence. How he had got there -he did not know. Presumably he had scrambled over. A much abraded shin -bone was to show him later that this theory was the correct one, but at -the moment bruised shins had no meaning for him. He stood churning the -mould of the flower bed on which he had alighted, staring at the -indistinct whiteness which was Kay. - -“But look here,” said Sam thickly. “But look here----” A bird stirred -sleepily in the tree. - -“But look here----” - -And then somehow--things were happening mysteriously to-night, and -apparently of their own volition--he found that Kay was in his arms. It -seemed to him also, though his faculties were greatly clouded, that he -was kissing Kay. - -“But look here----” he said thickly. They were now, in some peculiar -manner, walking together up the gravel path, and he, unless his senses -deceived him, was holding her hand tucked very tightly under his arm. At -least, somebody, at whom he seemed to be looking from a long distance, -was doing this. This individual, who appeared to be in a confused frame -of mind, was holding that hand with a sort of frenzied determination, as -if he were afraid she might get away from him. “But look here, this -isn’t possible!” - -“What isn’t possible?” - -“All this. A girl like you--a wonderful, splendid, marvellous girl like -you can’t possibly love”--the word seemed to hold all the magic of all -the magicians, and he repeated it dazedly--“love--love--can’t possibly -love a fellow like me.” He paused, finding the wonder of the thing -oppressive. “It--it doesn’t make sense.” - -“Why not?” - -“Well, a fellow--a man--a fellow--oh, I don’t know.” - -Kay chuckled. It came upon Sam with an overwhelming sense of personal -loss that she was smiling and that he could not see that smile. Other, -future smiles he would see, but not that particular one, and it seemed -to him that he would never be able to make up for having missed it. - -“Would you like to to know something, Sam?” - -“What?” - -“Well, if you’ll listen, I’ll explain exactly how I feel. Have you ever -had a very exciting book taken away from you just when you were in the -middle of it?” - -“No, I don’t think so.” - -“Well, I have. It was at Midways, when I was nine. I had borrowed it -from the page boy, who was a great friend of mine, and it was about a -man called Cincinnati Kit, who went round most of the time in a mask, -with lots of revolvers. I had just got half-way in it when my governess -caught me and I was sent to bed and the book was burned. So I never -found out what happened in the little room with the steel walls behind -the bar at the Blue Gulch Saloon. I didn’t get over the disappointment -for years. Well, when you told me you were going away, I suddenly -realised that this awful thing was on the point of happening to me -again, and this time I knew I would never get over it. It suddenly -flashed upon me that there was absolutely nothing worth while in life -except to be with you and watch you and wonder what perfectly mad thing -you would be up to next. Would Aunt Ysobel say that that was love?” - -“She would,” said Sam with conviction. - -“Well, it’s my form of it, anyhow. I just want to be with you for years -and years and years, wondering what you’re going to do next.” - -“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do at this moment,” said Sam. “I’m -going to kiss you.” - -Time passed. - -“Kay,” said Sam. - -“Yes?” - -“Do you know---- No, you’ll laugh.” - -“I promise I won’t. What were you going to say?” - -“That photograph of you--the one I found in the fishing hut.” - -“What about it?” - -“I kissed it once.” - -“Only once?” - -“No,” said Sam stoutly. “If you really want the truth, every day; every -blessed single day, and several times a day. Now laugh!” - -“No; I’m going to laugh at you all the rest of my life, but not -to-night. You’re a darling, and I suppose,” said Kay thoughtfully, “I’d -better go and tell uncle so, hadn’t I, if he has got back?” - -“Tell your uncle?” - -“Well, he likes to know what’s going on around him in the home.” - -“But that means that you’ll have to go in.” - -“Only for a minute. I shall just pop my head in at the door and say ‘Oh, -uncle, talking of Sam, I love him.’” - -“Look here,” said Sam earnestly, “if you will swear on your word of -honour--your sacred word of honour--not to be gone more than thirty -seconds----” - -“As if I could keep away from you longer than that!” said Kay. - -Left alone in a bleak world, Sam found his thoughts taking for a while a -sombre turn. In the exhilaration of the recent miracle which had altered -the whole face of the planet, he had tended somewhat to overlook the -fact that for a man about to enter upon the sacred state of matrimony he -was a little ill equipped with the means of supporting a home. His -weekly salary was in his pocket, and a small sum stood to his credit in -a Lombard Street bank; but he could not, he realised, be considered an -exceptionally good match for the least exacting of girls. Indeed, at the -moment, like the gentleman in the song, all he was in a position to -offer his bride was a happy disposition and a wild desire to succeed. - -These are damping reflections for a young man to whom the keys of heaven -have just been given, and they made Sam pensive. But his natural -ebullience was not long in coming to the rescue. One turn up and down -the garden and he was happy again in the possession of lavish rewards -bestowed upon him by beaming bank managers, rejoicing in their hearty -City fashion as they saw those missing bonds restored to them after many -years. He refused absolutely to consider the possibility of failure to -unearth the treasure. It must be somewhere in Mon Repos, and if it was -in Mon Repos he would find it--even if, in direct contravention of the -terms of Clause 8 in his lease, he had to tear the house to pieces. - -He strode, full of a great purpose, to the window of the kitchen. A -light shone there, and he could hear the rumbling voice of his faithful -henchman. He tapped upon the window, and presently the blind shot up and -Hash’s face appeared. In the background Claire, a little flushed, was -smoothing her hair. The window opened. - -“Who’s there?” said Hash gruffly. - -“Only me, Hash. I want a word with you.” - -“Ur?” - -“Listen, Hash. Tear yourself away shortly, and come back to Mon Repos. -There is man’s work to do there.” - -“Eh?” - -“We’ve got to search that house from top to bottom. I’ve just found out -that it’s full of bonds.” - -“You don’t say!” - -“I do say.” - -“Nasty things,” said Hash reflectively. “Go off in your ’ands as likely -as not.” - -At this moment the quiet night was rent by a strident voice. - -“Sam! Hi, Sam! Come quick!” - -It was the voice of Willoughby Braddock, and it appeared to proceed from -one of the upper rooms of Mon Repos. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - -SPIRITED BEHAVIOUR OF MR. BRADDOCK - - -When Willoughby Braddock, some ten minutes earlier, had parted from Kay -and come out on to the gravel walk in front of San Rafael, he was in a -condition of mind which it is seldom given to man to achieve until well -through the second quart of champagne. So stirred was his soul, so -churned up by a whirlwind of powerful emotions, that he could have -stepped straight into any hospital as a fever patient and no questions -asked. - -For the world had become of a sudden amazingly vivid to Willoughby. -After a quarter of a century in which absolutely nothing had occurred to -ruffle the placid surface of his somewhat stagnant existence, strange -and exhilarating things had begun to happen to him with a startling -abruptness. - -When he reflected that he had actually stood chatting face to face with -a member of the criminal classes, interrupting him in the very act of -burgling a house, and on top of that had found Lord Tilbury, a man who -was on the committee of his club, violently transformed into a -sans-culotte, it seemed to him that life in the true meaning of the word -had at last begun. - -But it was something that Kay had said that had set the seal on the -thrills of this great day. Quite casually she had mentioned that Mrs. -Lippett proposed, as soon as her daughter Claire was married to Hash -Todhunter, to go and live with the young couple. It was as if somebody, -strolling with stout Balboa, had jerked his thumb at a sheet of water -shining through the trees and observed nonchalantly, “By the way, -there’s the Pacific.” It was this, even more than the other events of -the afternoon, that had induced in Mr. Braddock the strange, yeasty -feeling of unreality which was causing him now to stand gulping on the -gravel. For years he had felt that only a miracle could rid him of Mrs. -Lippett’s limpet-like devotion, and now that miracle had happened. - -He removed his hat and allowed the cool night air to soothe his flaming -forehead. He regretted that he had pledged himself to dinner that night -at the house of his Aunt Julia. Aunt Julia was no bad sort, as aunts go, -but dinner at her house was scarcely likely to provide him with -melodrama, and it was melodrama that Mr. Braddock’s drugged soul now -craved, and nothing but melodrama. It irked him to be compelled to leave -this suburban maelstrom of swift events and return to a London which -could not but seem mild and tame by comparison. - -However, he had so pledged himself, and the word of a Braddock was his -bond. Moreover, if he were late, Aunt Julia would be shirty to a degree. -Reluctantly he started to move toward the two-seater, and had nearly -reached it when he congealed again into a motionless statue. For, even -as he prepared to open the gate of San Rafael, he beheld slinking in at -the gate of Mon Repos a furtive figure. - -In his present uplifted frame of mind a figure required to possess only -the minimum of furtiveness to excitement Willoughby Braddock’s -suspicions, and this one was well up in what might be called the Class A -of furtiveness. It wavered and it crept. It hesitated and it slunk. And -as the rays from the street lamp shone momentarily upon its face, Mr. -Braddock perceived that it was a drawn and anxious face, the face of one -who nerves himself to desperate deeds. - -And, indeed, the other was feeling nervous. He walked warily, like some -not too courageous explorer picking his way through a jungle in which he -suspects the presence of unpleasant wild beasts. Drawn by the lure of -gain to revisit Mon Repos, Chimp Twist was wondering pallidly if each -moment might not not bring Hash ravening out at him from the shadows. - -He passed round the angle of the house, and Willoughby Braddock, -reckless of whether or no this postponement of his return to London -would make him late for dinner at Aunt Julia’s and so cause him to be -properly ticked off by that punctuality-loving lady, flitted silently -after him and was in time to see him peer through the kitchen window. A -moment later, his peering seeming to have had a reassuring effect, he -had opened the back door and was inside the house. - -Willoughby Braddock did not hesitate. The idea of being alone in a small -semi-detached house with a desperate criminal who was probably armed to -the gills meant nothing to him now. In fact, he rather preferred it. He -slid silently through the back door in the fellow’s wake; and having -removed his shoes, climbed the kitchen stairs. A noise from above told -him that he was on the right track. Whatever it was that the furtive -bloke was doing, he was doing it upstairs. - -As for Chimp Twist, he was now going nicely. The operations which he was -conducting were swift and simple. Once he had ascertained by a survey -through the kitchen window that his enemy, Hash, was not on the -premises, all his nervousness had vanished. Possessing himself of the -chisel which he had placed in the drawer of the kitchen table in -readiness for just such an emergency, he went briskly upstairs. The -light was burning in the hall and also in the drawing-room; but the -absence of sounds encouraged him to believe that Sam, like Hash, was -out. This proved to be the case, and he went on his way completely -reassured. All he wanted was five minutes alone and undisturbed, for the -directions contained in Mr. Finglass’ letter had been specific; and once -he had broken through the door of the top back bedroom, he anticipated -no difficulty in unearthing the buried treasure. It was, Mr. Finglass -had definitely stated, a mere matter of lifting a board. Chimp Twist did -not sing as he climbed the stairs, for he was a prudent man, but he felt -like singing. - -A sharp cracking noise came to Willoughby Braddock’s ears as he halted -snakily on the first landing. It sounded like the breaking open of a -door. - -And so it was. Chimp, had the conditions been favourable, would have -preferred to insinuate himself into Hash’s boudoir in a manner involving -less noise; but in this enterprise of his time was of the essence and he -had no leisure for niggling at locks with a chisel. Arriving on the -threshold, he raised his boot and drove it like a battering-ram. - -The doors of suburban villas are not constructed to stand rough -treatment. If they fit within an inch or two and do not fall down when -the cat rubs against them, the architect, builder and surveyor shake -hands and congratulate themselves on a good bit of work. And Chimp, -though a small man, had a large foot. The lock yielded before him and -the door swung open. He went in and lit the gas. Then he took a rapid -survey of his surroundings. - -Half-way up the second flight of stairs, Willoughby Braddock stood -listening. His face was pink and determined. As far as he was concerned, -Aunt Julia might go and boil herself. Dinner or no dinner, he meant to -see this thing through. - -Chimp wasted no time. - -“The stuff,” his friend, the late Edward Finglass, had written, “is in -the top back bedroom. You’ve only to lift the third board from the -window and put your hand in, Chimpie, and there it is.” And after this -had come a lot of foolish stuff about sharing with Soapy Molloy. A -trifle maudlin old Finky had become on his deathbed, it seemed to Chimp. - -And, hurried though he was, Chimp Twist had time to indulge in a brief -smile as he thought of Soapy Molloy. He also managed to fit in a brief -moment of complacent meditation, the trend of which was that when it -comes to a show-down brains will tell. He, Chimp Twist, was the guy with -the brains, and the result was that in about another half minute he -would be in possession of American-bearer securities to the value of -two million dollars. Whereas poor old Soapy, who had just about enough -intelligence to open his mouth when he wished to eat, would go through -life eking out a precarious existence, selling fictitious oil stock to -members of the public who were one degree more cloth-headed than -himself. There was a moral to be drawn from this, felt Chimp, but his -time was too valuable to permit him to stand there drawing it. He -gripped his chisel and got to work. - -Mr. Braddock, peering in at the door with the caution of a red Indian -stalking a relative by marriage with a tomahawk, saw that the intruder -had lifted a board and was groping in the cavity. His heart beat like a -motor-bicycle. It gave him some little surprise that the fellow did not -hear it. - -Presumably the fellow was too occupied. Certainly he seemed like a man -whose mind was on his job. Having groped for some moments, he now -uttered a sound that was half an oath and half a groan, and as if seized -with a frenzy, began tearing up other boards, first one, then another, -after that a third. It was as though this business of digging up boards -had begun to grip him like some drug. Starting in a modest way with a -single board he had been unable to check the craving, and it now -appeared to be his intention to excavate the entire floor. - -But he was not allowed to proceed with this work uninterrupted. Possibly -this wholesale demolition of bedrooms jarred upon Mr. Braddock’s -sensibilities as a householder. At any rate, he chose this moment to -intervene. - -“I say, look here!” he said. - -It had been his intention, for he was an enthusiastic reader of -sensational fiction and knew the formulæ as well as anyone, to say -“Hands up!” But the words had slipped from him without his volition. He -hastily corrected himself. - -“I mean, Hands up!” he said. - -Then backing to the window, he flung it open and shouted into the night. - -“Sam! Hi, Sam! Come quick!” - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - -THE MISSING MILLIONS - - -Those captious critics who are always on the alert to catch the -historian napping and expose in his relation of events some damaging -flaw will no doubt have seized avidly on what appears to be a blunder in -the incident just recorded. Where, they will ask, did Willoughby -Braddock get the revolver, without which a man may say “Hands up!” till -he is hoarse and achieve no result? For of all the indispensable -articles of costume which the well-dressed man must wear if he wishes to -go about saying “Hands up!” to burglars, a revolver is the one which can -least easily be omitted. - -We have no secrets from posterity. Willoughby Braddock possessed no -revolver. But he had four fingers on his right hand, and two of these he -was now thrusting earnestly against the inside of his coat pocket. Wax -to receive and marble to retain, Willoughby Braddock had not forgotten -the ingenious subterfuge by means of which Soapy Molloy had been enabled -to intimidate Lord Tilbury, and he employed it now upon Chimp Twist. - -“You low blister!” said Mr. Braddock. - -Whether this simple device would have been effective with a person of -ferocious and hard-boiled temperament, one cannot say; but fortunately -Chimp was not of this description. His strength was rather of the head -than of the heart. He was a man who shrank timidly from even the -appearance of violence; and though he may have had doubts as to the -genuineness of Mr. Braddock’s pistol, he had none concerning the -latter’s physique. Willoughby Braddock was no Hercules, but he was some -four inches taller and some sixty pounds heavier than Chimp, and it was -not in Mr. Twist’s character to embark upon a rough-and-tumble with such -odds against him. - -Indeed, Chimp would not lightly have embarked on a rough-and-tumble with -anyone who was not an infant in arms or a member of the personnel of -Singer’s Troupe of Midgets. - -He tottered against the wall and stood there, blinking. The sudden -materialisation of Willoughby Braddock, apparently out of thin air, had -given him a violent shock, from which he had not even begun to recover. - -“You man of wrath!” said Mr. Braddock. - -The footsteps of one leaping from stair to stair made themselves heard. -Sam charged in. - -“What’s up?” - -Mr. Braddock, with pardonable unction, directed his notice to the -captive. - -“Another of the gang,” he said. “I caught him.” - -Sam gazed at Chimp and looked away, disappointed. - -“You poor idiot,” he said peevishly. “That’s my odd-job man.” - -“What?” - -“My odd-job man.” - -Willoughby Braddock felt for an instant damped. Then his spirits rose -again. He knew little of the duties of odd-job men; but whatever they -were, this one, he felt, had surely exceeded them. - -“Well, why was he digging up the floor?” - -And Sam, glancing down, saw that this was what his eccentric employee -had, indeed, been doing; and suspicion blazed up within him. - -“What’s the game?” he demanded, eying Chimp. - -“Exactly,” said Mr. Braddock. “The game--what is it?” - -Chimp’s nerves had recovered a little of their tone. His agile brain was -stirring once more. - -“You can’t do anything,” he said. “It wasn’t breaking and entering. I -live here. I know the law.” - -“Never mind about that. What were you up to?” - -“Looking for something,” said Chimp sullenly. “And it wasn’t there.” - -“Did you know Finglass?” asked Sam keenly. - -Chimp gave a short laugh of intense bitterness. - -“I thought I did. But I didn’t know he was so fond of a joke.” - -“Bradder,” said Sam urgently, “a crook named Finglass used to live in -this house, and he buried a lot of his swag somewhere in it.” - -“Good gosh!” exclaimed Mr. Braddock. “You don’t say so!” - -“Did this fellow take anything from under the floor?” - -“You bet your sweet life I didn’t,” said Chimp with feeling. “It wasn’t -there. You seem to know all about it, so I don’t mind telling you that -Finky wrote me that the stuff was under the third board from the window -in this room. Whether he was off his damned head or was just stringing -me, I don’t know. But I do know it isn’t there. And now I’m going.” - -“Oh, no, you aren’t, by Jove!” said Mr. Braddock. - -“Oh, let him go,” said Sam wearily. “What’s the use of keeping him -hanging round?” He turned to Chimp. His own disappointment was so keen -that he could almost sympathise with him. “So you think Finglass really -got away with the stuff, after all?” - -“Looks like it.” - -“Then why on earth did he write to you?” - -Chimp shrugged his shoulders. - -“Off his nut, I guess. He always was a loony sort of bird, outside of -business.” - -“You don’t think the other chap found the stuff, Sam?” suggested Mr. -Braddock. - -Sam shook his head. - -“I doubt it. It’s much more likely it was never here at all. We had a -friend of yours here this evening,” he said to Chimp. “At least, I -suppose he was a friend of yours. Thomas G. Gunn he called himself.” - -“I know who you mean--that poor dumb brick, Soapy. He wouldn’t have -found anything. If it isn’t here it isn’t anywhere. And now I’m going.” - -Mr. Braddock eyed him a little wistfully as he slouched through the -doorway. It was galling to see the only burglar he had ever caught -walking out as if he had finished paying a friendly call. However, he -supposed there was nothing to be done about it. Sam had gone to the -window and was leaning out, looking into the night. - -“I must go and see Kay,” he said at length, turning. - -“I must get up to town,” said Mr. Braddock. “By Jove, I shall be most -frightfully late if I don’t rush. I’m dining with my Aunt Julia.” - -“This is going to be bad news for her.” - -“Oh, no, she’ll be most awfully interested. She’s a very sporting old -party.” - -“What the devil are you talking about?” - -“My Aunt Julia.” - -“Oh? Well, good-bye.” - -Sam left the room, and Willoughby Braddock, following him at some little -distance, for his old friend seemed disinclined for company and -conversation, heard the front door bang. He sat down on the stairs and -began to put on his shoes, which he had cached on the first landing. -While he was engaged in this task, the front doorbell rang. He went down -to open it, one shoe off and one shoe on, and found on the steps an aged -gentleman with a white beard. - -“Is Mr. Shotter here?” asked the aged gentleman. - -“Just gone round next door. Mr. Cornelius, isn’t it? I expect you’ve -forgotten me--Willoughby Braddock. I met you for a minute or two when I -was staying with Mr. Wrenn.” - -“Ah, yes. And how is the world using you, Mr. Braddock?” - -Willoughby was only too glad to tell him. A confidant was precisely what -in his exalted frame of mind he most desired. - -“Everything’s absolutely topping, thanks. What with burglars floating in -every two minutes and Lord Tilbury getting de-bagged and all that, -life’s just about right. And my housekeeper is leaving me.” - -“I am sorry to hear that.” - -“I wasn’t. What it means is that now I shall at last be able to buzz off -and see life. Have all sorts of adventures, you know. I’m frightfully -keen on adventure.” - -“You should come and live in Valley Fields, Mr. Braddock. There is -always some excitement going on here.” - -“Yes, you’re not far wrong. Still, what I meant was more the biffing off -on the out-trail stuff. I’m going to see the world. I’m going to be one -of those fellows Kipling writes about. I was talking to a chap of that -sort at the club the other day. He said he could remember Uganda when -there wasn’t a white man there.” - -“I can remember Valley Fields when it had not a single cinema house.” - -“This fellow was once treed by a rhinoceros for six hours.” - -“A similar thing happened to a Mr. Walkinshaw, who lived at Balmoral, in -Acacia Road. He came back from London one Saturday afternoon in a new -tweed suit, and his dog, failing to recognise him, chased him on to the -roof of the summer house.... Well, I must be getting along, Mr. -Braddock. I promised to read extracts from my history of Valley Fields -to Mr. Shotter. Perhaps you would care to hear them too.” - -“I should love it, but I’ve got to dash off and dine with my Aunt -Julia.” - -“Some other time perhaps?” - -“Absolutely.... By the way, that man I was telling you about. He was as -near as a toucher bitten by a shark once.” - -“Nothing to what happens in Valley Fields,” said Mr. Cornelius -patriotically. “The occupant of the Firs at the corner of Buller Street -and Myrtle Avenue--a Mr. Phillimore--perhaps you have heard of him?” - -“No.” - -“Mr. Edwin Phillimore. Connected with the firm of Birkett, Birkett, -Birkett, Son, Podmarsh, Podmarsh & Birkett, the solicitors.” - -“What about him?” - -“Last summer,” said Mr. Cornelius, “he was bitten by a guinea pig.” - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - -MR. CORNELIUS READS HIS HISTORY - - -§ 1 - -It is a curious fact, and one frequently noted by philosophers, that -every woman in this world cherishes within herself a deep-rooted belief, -from which nothing can shake her, that the particular man to whom she -has plighted her love is to be held personally blameworthy for -practically all of the untoward happenings of life. The vapid and -irreflective would call these things accidents, but she knows better. If -she arrives at a station at five minutes past nine to catch a train -which has already left at nine minutes past five, she knows that it is -her Henry who is responsible, just as he was responsible the day before -for a shower of rain coming on when she was wearing her new hat. - -But there was sterling stuff in Kay Derrick. Although no doubt she felt -in her secret heart that the omission of the late Mr. Edward Finglass to -deposit his ill-gotten gains beneath the floor of the top back bedroom -of Mon Repos could somehow have been avoided if Sam had shown a little -enterprise and common sense, she uttered no word of reproach. Her -reception of the bad news, indeed, when, coming out into the garden, he -saw her waiting for him on the lawn of San Rafael and climbed the fence -to deliver it, was such as to confirm once and for all his enthusiastic -view of her splendid qualities. Where others would have blamed, she -sympathised. And not content with mere sympathy, she went on to minimise -the disaster with soothing argument. - -“What does it matter?” she said. “We have each other.” - -The mind of man, no less than that of woman, works strangely. When, a -few days before, Sam had read that identical sentiment, couched in -almost exactly the same words, as part of the speech addressed by Leslie -Mordyke to the girl of his choice in the third galley of Cordelia -Blair’s gripping serial, _Hearts Aflame_, he had actually gone so far as -to write in the margin the words, “Silly fool!” Now he felt that he had -never heard anything not merely so beautiful but so thoroughly sensible, -practical and inspired. - -“That’s right!” he cried. - -If he had been standing by a table he would have banged it with his -fist. Situated as he was, in the middle of a garden, all he could do was -to kiss Kay. This he did. - -“Of course,” he said, when the first paroxysm of enthusiasm had passed, -“there’s just this one point to be taken into consideration. I’ve lost -my job, and I don’t know how I’m to get another.” - -“Of course you’ll get another!” - -“Why, so I will!” said Sam, astounded by the clearness of her reasoning. -The idea that the female intelligence was inferior to the male seemed to -him a gross fallacy. How few men could have thought a thing all out in -a flash like that. - -“It may not be a big job, but that will be all the more fun.” - -“So it will.” - -“I always think that people who marry on practically nothing have a -wonderful time.” - -“Terrific!” - -“So exciting.” - -“Yes.” - -“I can cook a bit.” - -“I can wash dishes.” - -“If you’re poor, you enjoy occasional treats. If you’re rich, you just -get bored with pleasure.” - -“Bored stiff.” - -“And probably drift apart.” - -Sam could not follow her here. Loth as he was to disagree with her -lightest word, this was going too far. - -“No,” he said firmly, “if I had a million I wouldn’t drift apart from -you.” - -“You might.” - -“No, I wouldn’t.” - -“I’m only saying you might.” - -“But I shouldn’t.” - -“Well, anyhow,” said Kay, yielding the point, “all I’m saying is that it -will be much more fun being awfully hard up and watching the pennies and -going out to the Palais de Dance at Hammersmith on Saturday night, or if -it was my birthday or something, and cooking our own dinner and making -my own clothes, than--than----” - -“----living in a gilded cage, watching love stifle,” said Sam, -remembering Leslie Mordyke’s remarks on the subject. - -“Yes. So, honestly, I’m very glad it was all a fairy story about that -money being in Mon Repos.” - -“So am I. Darned glad.” - -“I’d have hated to have it.” - -“So would I.” - -“And I think it’s jolly, your uncle disinheriting you.” - -“Absolutely corking.” - -“It would have spoiled everything, having a big allowance from him.” - -“Everything.” - -“I mean, we should have missed all the fun we’re going to have, and we -shouldn’t have felt so close together and----” - -“Exactly. Do you know, I knew a wretched devil in America who came into -about twenty million dollars when his father died, and he went and -married a girl with about double that in her own right.” - -“What became of him?” asked Kay, shocked. - -“I don’t know. We lost touch. But just imagine that marriage!” - -“Awful!” - -“What possible fun could they have had?” - -“None. What was his name?” - -“Blenkiron,” said Sam in a hushed voice. “And hers was Poskitt.” - -For some moments, deeply affected by the tragedy of these two poor bits -of human wreckage, they stood in silence. Sam felt near to tears, and he -thought Kay was bearing up only with some difficulty. - -The door leading into the garden opened. Light from the house flashed -upon them. - -“Somebody’s coming out,” said Kay, giving a little start as though she -had been awakened from a dream. - -“Curse them!” said Sam. “Or rather, no,” he corrected himself. “I think -it’s your uncle.” - -Even at such a moment as this, he could harbour no harsh thought toward -any relative of hers. - -It was Mr. Wrenn. He stood on the steps, peering out. - -“Kay!” he called. - -“Yes?” - -“Oh, you’re there. Is Shotter with you?” - -“Yes.” - -“Could you both come in for a minute?” inquired Mr. Wrenn, his -voice--for he was a man of feeling--conveying a touch of apology. -“Cornelius is here. He wants to read you that chapter from his history -of Valley Fields.” - -Sam groaned in spirit. On such a night as this young Troilus had climbed -the walls of Troy and stood gazing at the Grecian tents where lay his -Cressida, and he himself had got to go into a stuffy house and listen to -a bore with a white beard drooling on about the mouldy past of a London -suburb. - -“Well, yes, I know; but----” he began doubtfully. - -Kay laid a hand upon his arm. - -“We can’t disappoint the poor old man,” she whispered. “He would take it -to heart so.” - -“Yes, but I mean----” - -“No.” - -“Just as you say,” said Sam. - -He was going to make a good husband. - -Mr. Cornelius was in the drawing-room. From under his thick white brows -he peered at them, as they entered, with the welcoming eyes of a man -who, loving the sound of his own voice, sees a docile audience -assembling. He took from the floor a large brown paper parcel and, -having carefully unfastened the string which tied it, revealed a second -and lighter wrapping of brown paper. Removing this, he disclosed a layer -of newspaper, then another, and finally a formidable typescript bound -about with lilac ribbon. - -“The matter having to do with the man Finglass occurs in Chapter Seven -of my book,” he said. - -“Just one chapter?” said Sam, with a touch of hope. - -“That chapter describes the man’s first visit to my office, my early -impressions of him, his words as nearly as I can remember them, and a -few other preliminary details. In Chapter Nine----” - -“Chapter Nine!” echoed Sam, aghast. “You know, as a matter of fact, -there really isn’t any need to read all that, because it turns out that -Finglass never----” - -“In Chapter Nine,” proceeded Mr. Cornelius, adjusting a large pair of -horn-rimmed spectacles, “I show him accepted perfectly unsuspiciously by -the residents of the suburb, and I have described at some length, -because it is important as indicating how completely his outward -respectability deceived those with whom he came in contact, a garden -party given by Mrs. Bellamy-North, of Beau Rivage, in Burberry Road, at -which he appeared and spoke a few words on the subject of the -forthcoming election for the district council.” - -“We shall love to hear that,” said Kay brightly. Her eye, wandering -aside, met Sam’s. Sam, who had opened his mouth, closed it again. - -“I remember that day very distinctly,” said Mr. Cornelius. “It was a -beautiful afternoon in June, and the garden of Beau Rivage was looking -extraordinarily attractive. It was larger, of course, in those days. The -house which I call Beau Rivage in my history has since been converted -into two semi-detached houses, known as Beau Rivage and Sans Souci. That -is a change which has taken place in a great number of cases in this -neighbourhood. Five years ago Burberry Road was a more fashionable -quarter, and the majority of the houses were detached. This house where -we are now sitting, for example, and its neighbour, Mon Repos, were a -single residence when Edward Finglass came to Valley Fields. Its name -was then Mon Repos, and it was only some eighteen months later that San -Rafael came into existence as a separate----” - -He broke off; and breaking off, bit his tongue, for that had occurred -which had startled him considerably. One unit in his audience, until -that moment apparently as quiet and well-behaved as the other units, had -suddenly, to all appearances, gone off his head. The young man Shotter, -uttering a piercing cry, had leaped to his feet and was exhibiting -strange emotion. - -“What’s that?” cried Sam. “What did you say?” - -Mr. Cornelius regarded him through a mist of tears. His tongue was -giving him considerable pain. - -“Did you say,” demanded Sam, “that in Finglass’ time San Rafael was part -of Mon Repos?” - -“Yeh,” said Mr. Cornelius, rubbing the wound tenderly against the roof -of his mouth. - -“Give me a chisel!” bellowed Sam. “Where’s a chisel? I want a chisel!” - - -§ 2 - -“Bleck my soul!” said Mr. Cornelius. He spoke a little thickly, for his -tongue was still painful. But its anguish was forgotten under the spell -of a stronger emotion. Five minutes had passed since Sam’s remarkable -outburst in the drawing-room; and now, with Mr. Wrenn and Kay, he was -standing in the top back bedroom of San Rafael, watching the young man -as he drew up from the chasm in which he had been groping a very -yellowed, very dusty package which crackled and crumbled in his fingers. - -“Bleck my soul!” said Mr. Cornelius. - -“Good heavens!” said Mr. Wrenn. - -“Sam!” cried Kay. - -Sam did not hear their voices. With the look of a mother bending over -her sleeping babe, he was staring at the parcel. - -“Two million!” said Sam, choking. “Two million--count ’em--two million!” - -A light of pure avarice shone in his eyes. He looked like a man who had -never heard of the unhappy fate of Dwight Blenkiron, of Chicago, -Illinois, and Genevieve, his bride, _née_ Poskitt; or who, having heard, -did not give a whoop. - -“What’s ten per cent on two million?” asked Sam. - - -§ 3 - -Valley Fields lay asleep. Clocks had been wound, cats put out of back -doors, front doors bolted and chained. In a thousand homes a thousand -good householders were restoring their tissues against the labours of -another day. The silver-voiced clock on the big tower over the college -struck the hour of two. - -But though most of its inhabitants were prudently getting their eight -hours and insuring that schoolgirl complexion, footsteps still made -themselves heard in the silence of Burberry Road. They were those of Sam -Shotter of Mon Repos, pacing up and down outside the gate of San Rafael. -Long since had Mr. Wrenn, who slept in the front of that house, begun to -wish Sam Shotter in bed or dead; but he was a mild and kindly man, loth -to shout winged words out of windows. So Sam paced, unrebuked, until -presently other footsteps joined in chorus with his and he perceived -that he was no longer alone. - -A lantern shone upon him. - -“Out late, sir,” said the sleepless guardian of the peace behind him. - -“Late?” said Sam. Trifles like time meant nothing to him. “Is it late?” - -“Just gone two, sir.” - -“Oh? Then perhaps I had better be going to bed.” - -“Suit yourself, sir. Resident here, sir?” - -“Yes.” - -“Then I wonder,” said the constable, “if I can interest you in a concert -which is shortly to take place in aid of a charitubulorganisation -connection with a body of men to ’oom you as a nouse’older will----” - -“Do you believe in palmists?” - -“No, sir---- be the first to admit that you owe the safety of your -person and the tranquillity of your ’ome--the police.” - -“Well, let me tell you this,” said Sam warmly: “Some time ago a palmist -told me that I was shortly about to be married, and I am shortly about -to be married.” - -“Wish you luck, sir. Then perhaps I can ’ave the pleasure of selling you -and your good lady to be a couple of tickets for this concert in aid of -the Policemen’s Orphanage. Tickets, which may be ’ad in any quantity, -consist of the five-shilling ticket----” - -“Are you married?” - -“Yes sir---- the three-shilling ticket, the half-crown ticket, the -shilling ticket, and the sixpenny ticket.” - -“It’s the only life, isn’t it?” said Sam. - -“That of the policeman, sir, or the orphan?” - -“Married life.” - -The constable ruminated. - -“Well, sir,” he replied judicially, “it’s like most things--’as its -advantages and its disadvantages.” - -“Of course,” said Sam, “I can see that if two people married without -having any money, it might lead to a lot of unhappiness. But if you’ve -plenty of money, nothing can possibly go wrong.” - -“Have you plenty of money, sir?” - -“Pots of it.” - -“In that case, sir, I recommend the five-shilling tickets. Say, one for -yourself, one for your good lady to be and--to make up the round -sovereign--a couple for any gentlemen friends you may meet at the club -’oo may desire to be present at what you can take it from me will be a -slap-up entertainment, high class from start to finish. Constable -Purvis will render Asleep on the Deep----” - -“Look here,” said Sam, suddenly becoming aware that the man was babbling -about something, “what on earth are you talking about?” - -“Tickets, sir.” - -“But you don’t need tickets to get married.” - -“You need tickets to be present at the annual concert in aid of the -Policemen’s Orphanage, and I strongly advocate the purchase of ’alf a -dozen of the five-shilling.” - -“How much are the five-shilling?” - -“Five shillings, sir.” - -“But I’ve only got a ten-pound note on me.” - -“Bring your change to your ’ome to-morrow.” - -Sam became aware with a shudder of self-loathing that he was allowing -this night of nights to be marred by sordid huckstering. - -“Never mind the change,” he said. - -“Sir?” - -“Keep it all. I’m going to be married,” he added in explanation. - -“Keep the ’ole ten pounds, sir?” quavered the stupefied officer. - -“Certainly. What’s ten pounds?” - -There was a silence. - -“If everybody was like you, sir,” said the constable at length, in a -deep, throaty voice, “the world would be a better place.” - -“The world couldn’t be a better place,” said Sam. “Good night.” - -“Good night, sir,” said the constable reverently. - - - (THE END) - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAM IN THE SUBURBS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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G. Wodehouse</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Sam in the Suburbs</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: P. G. Wodehouse</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 10, 2022 [eBook #67368]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Emmanuel Ackerman, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAM IN THE SUBURBS ***</div> -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" height="500" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1" id="page_1">{1}</a></span>  </p> - -<div class="bk"> -<p class="cb"><span class="un">SAM IN THE SUBURBS</span><br /> -P. G. WODEHOUSE</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_2" id="page_2">{2}</a></span></p> - -<table> -<tr><td><span class="big">By P. G. WODEHOUSE</span><br />  </td></tr> -<tr><td> -SAM IN THE SUBURBS<br /> -BILL THE CONQUEROR<br /> -LEAVE IT TO PSMITH<br /> -GOLF WITHOUT TEARS<br /> -JEEVES<br /> -MOSTLY SALLY<br /> -THREE MEN AND A MAID<br /> -INDISCRETIONS OF ARCHIE<br /> -THE LITTLE WARRIOR<br /> -A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS</td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_3" id="page_3">{3}</a></span>  </p> - -<div class="bbox1"> -<div class="bbox2"> -<h1> -SAM IN<br /> -THE SUBURBS</h1> - -<p class="cb"><small>BY</small><br /> -<br /> -P. G. WODEHOUSE<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -NEW -<img src="images/colophon.png" -width="30" -alt="" /> -YORK<br /> -GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY<br />  </p> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4">{4}</a></span>  </p> - -<p class="c"><small>COPYRIGHT, 1925<br /> -BY P. G. WODEHOUSE<br /> - -<img src="images/colophon2.png" -width="30" -alt="" /> -<br /> -<br /> -THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY, 1925.<br /> -SAM IN THE SUBURBS<br /> -—Q—<br /> -PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA<br /></small> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5">{5}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Chapter</span></td><td></td><td> <span class="smcap">Page</span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#I">I.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#I">Sam Starts on a Journey</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_9">9</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#II">II.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#II">Kay of Valley Fields</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_24">24</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#III">III.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#III">Sailors Don’t Care</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_44">44</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#IV">IV.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#IV">Scene Outside Fashionable Night-Club</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_53">53</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#V">V.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#V">Painful Affair at a Coffee-Stall</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_61">61</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#VI">VI.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#VI">A Friend in Need</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_65">65</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#VII">VII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#VII">Sam at San Rafael</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_71">71</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#VIII">VIII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#VIII">Sam at Mon Repos</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_78">78</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#IX">IX.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#IX">Breakfast for One</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_82">82</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#X">X.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#X">Sam Finds a Photograph</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_85">85</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XI">XI.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XI">Sam Becomes a Householder</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_90">90</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XII">XII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XII">Sam is Much Too Sudden</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_97">97</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XIII">XIII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XIII">Introducing a Syndicate</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_127">127</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XIV">XIV.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XIV">The Chirrup</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_144">144</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XV">XV.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XV">Visitors at Mon Repos</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_152">152</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XVI">XVI.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XVI">Astonishing Statement of Hash Todhunter</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_161">161</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XVII">XVII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XVII">Activities of the Dog Amy</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_179">179</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XVIII">XVIII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XVIII">Discussion at a Luncheon Table</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_196">196</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_6" id="page_6">{6}</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XIX">XIX.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XIX">Lord Tilbury Engages an Ally</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_210">210</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XX">XX.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XX">Trouble in the Syndicate</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_224">224</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXI">XXI.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXI">Aunt Ysobel Points the Way</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_232">232</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXII">XXII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXII">Stormy Times at Mon Repos</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_250">250</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXIII">XXIII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXIII">Soapy Molloy’s Busy Afternoon</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_267">267</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXIV">XXIV.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXIV">Mainly About Trousers</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_288">288</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXV">XXV.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXV">Sam Hears Bad News</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_302">302</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXVI">XXVI.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXVI">Sam Hears Good News</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_313">313</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXVII">XXVII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXVII">Spirited Behaviour of Mr. Braddock</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_322">322</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXVIII">XXVIII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXVIII">The Missing Millions</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_329">329</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXIX">XXIX.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXIX">Mr. Cornelius Reads His History</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_336">336</a></td></tr> -</table> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7">{7}</a></span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8">{8}</a></span>  </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9">{9}</a></span>  </p> - -<h1>SAM IN THE SUBURBS</h1> - -<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>CHAPTER ONE<br /><br /> -<small>SAM STARTS ON A JOURNEY</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">A</span>LL day long, New York, stewing in the rays of a late August sun, had -been growing warmer and warmer; until now, at three o’clock in the -afternoon, its inhabitants, with the exception of a little group -gathered together on the tenth floor of the Wilmot Building on Upper -Broadway, had divided themselves by a sort of natural cleavage into two -main bodies—the one crawling about and asking those they met if this -was hot enough for them, the other maintaining that what they minded was -not so much the heat as the humidity.</p> - -<p>The reason for the activity prevailing on the tenth floor of the Wilmot -was that a sporting event of the first magnitude was being pulled off -there—Spike Murphy, of the John B. Pynsent Import and Export Company, -being in the act of contesting the final of the Office Boys’ -High-Kicking Championship against a willowy youth from the Consolidated -Eyebrow Tweezer and Nail File Corporation. The affair was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10">{10}</a></span> taking place -on the premises of a few stenographers, chewing gum; some male wage -slaves in shirt sleeves; and Mr. John B. Pynsent’s nephew, Samuel -Shotter, a young man of agreeable features, who was acting as referee.</p> - -<p>In addition to being referee, Sam Shotter was also the patron and -promoter of the tourney; the man but for whose vision and enterprise a -wealth of young talent would have lain undeveloped, thereby jeopardising -America’s chances should an event of this kind ever be added to the -program of the Olympic Games. It was he who, wandering about the office -in a restless search for methods of sweetening an uncongenial round of -toil, had come upon Master Murphy practicing kicks against the wall of a -remote corridor and had encouraged him to kick higher. It was he who had -arranged matches with representatives of other firms throughout the -building. And it was he who out of his own pocket had provided the purse -which, as the lad’s foot crashed against the plaster a full inch above -his rival’s best effort, he now handed to Spike together with a few -well-chosen words.</p> - -<p>“Murphy,” said Sam, “is the winner. After a contest conducted throughout -in accordance with the best traditions of American high kicking, he has -upheld the honour of the John B. Pynsent Ex and Imp and retained his -title. In the absence of the boss, therefore, who has unfortunately been -called away to Philadelphia and so is unable to preside at this meeting, -I take much pleasure in presenting him with the guerdon of victory, this -handsome dollar bill. Take it, Spike, and in after years, when you are a -grey-haired<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11">{11}</a></span> alderman or something, look back to this moment and say to -yourself——”</p> - -<p>Sam stopped, a little hurt. He thought he had been speaking rather well, -yet already his audience was walking out on him. Spike Murphy, indeed, -was running.</p> - -<p>“Say to yourself——”</p> - -<p>“When you are at leisure, Samuel,” observed a voice behind him, “I -should be glad of a word with you in my office.”</p> - -<p>Sam turned.</p> - -<p>“Oh, hullo, uncle,” he said.</p> - -<p>He coughed; Mr. Pynsent coughed.</p> - -<p>“I thought you had gone to Philadelphia,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>“Indeed?” said Mr. Pynsent.</p> - -<p>He made no further remark, but proceeded sedately to his room, from -which he emerged again a moment later with a patient look of inquiry on -his face.</p> - -<p>“Come here, Sam,” he said. “Who,” he asked, pointing, “is this?”</p> - -<p>Sam peeped through the doorway and perceived, tilted back in a swivel -chair, a long, lean man of repellent aspect. His large feet rested -comfortably on the desk, his head hung sideways and his mouth was open. -From his mouth, which was of generous proportions, there came a gurgling -snore.</p> - -<p>“Who,” repeated Mr. Pynsent, “is this gentleman?”</p> - -<p>Sam could not help admiring his uncle’s unerring instinct—that amazing -intuition which had led him straight to the realisation that if an -uninvited stranger was slumbering in his pet chair, the responsibility -must of necessity be his nephew Samuel’s.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12">{12}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Good Lord!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t know he was there.”</p> - -<p>“A friend of yours?”</p> - -<p>“It’s Hash.”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon?”</p> - -<p>“Hash Todhunter, you know, the cook of the <i>Araminta</i>. You remember I -took a trip a year ago on a tramp steamer? This fellow was the cook. I -met him on Broadway this afternoon and gave him lunch. I brought him -back here because he wanted to see the place where I work.”</p> - -<p>“Work?” said Mr. Pynsent, puzzled.</p> - -<p>“I had no notion he had strayed into your room.”</p> - -<p>Sam spoke apologetically, but he would have liked to point out that the -blame for all these embarrassing occurrences was really Mr. Pynsent’s. -If a man creates the impression that he is going to Philadelphia and -then does not go, he has only himself to thank for any complications -that may ensue. However, this was a technicality with which he did not -bother his uncle.</p> - -<p>“Shall I wake him?”</p> - -<p>“If you would be so good. And having done so, take him away and store -him somewhere and then come back. I have much to say to you.”</p> - -<p>Shaken by a vigorous hand, the sleeper opened his eyes. Hauled to his -feet, he permitted himself to be led, still in a trancelike condition, -out of the room and down the passage to the cubbyhole where Sam -performed his daily duties. Here, sinking into a chair, he fell asleep -again; and Sam left him and went back to his uncle. Mr. Pynsent was -staring thoughtfully out of the window as he entered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13">{13}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Sit down, Sam,” he said.</p> - -<p>Sam sat down.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry about all that, uncle.”</p> - -<p>“All what?”</p> - -<p>“All that business that was going on when you came in.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes. What was it, by the way?”</p> - -<p>“Spike Murphy was seeing if he could kick higher than a kid from a firm -downstairs.”</p> - -<p>“And did he?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Good boy,” said Mr. Pynsent approvingly. “You arranged the competition, -no doubt?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”</p> - -<p>“You would. You have been in my employment,” proceeded Mr. Pynsent -evenly, “three months. In that time you have succeeded in thoroughly -demoralising the finest office force in New York.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, uncle!” said Sam reproachfully.</p> - -<p>“Thoroughly,” repeated Mr. Pynsent. “The office boys call you by your -Christian name.”</p> - -<p>“They will do it,” sighed Sam. “I clump their heads, but the habit -persists.”</p> - -<p>“Last Wednesday I observed you kissing my stenographer.”</p> - -<p>“The poor little thing had toothache.”</p> - -<p>“Also, Mr. Ellaby informs me that your work is a disgrace to the firm.” -There was a pause. “The English public school is the curse of the age,” -said Mr. Pynsent dreamily.</p> - -<p>To a stranger the remark might have sounded ir<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14">{14}</a></span>relevant, but Sam -understood the import. He appreciated it for what it was—a nasty crack.</p> - -<p>“Did they teach you anything at Wrykyn, Sam, except football?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes.”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, lots of things.”</p> - -<p>“I have seen no evidence of it. Why your mother sent you to that place, -instead of to some good business college, I cannot imagine.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you see, father had been there——”</p> - -<p>Sam broke off. Mr. Pynsent, he was aware, had not been fond of the late -Anthony Shotter—considering, and possibly correctly, that his dead -sister had, in marrying that amiable but erratic person, been guilty of -the crowning folly of a frivolous and fluffy-headed life.</p> - -<p>“A strong recommendation,” said Mr. Pynsent dryly.</p> - -<p>Sam had nothing to say to this.</p> - -<p>“You are very like your father in a great many ways,” said Mr. Pynsent.</p> - -<p>Sam let this one go by too. They were coming off the bat a bit fast this -morning, but there was nothing to be done about it.</p> - -<p>“And yet I am fond of you, Sam,” resumed Mr. Pynsent after a brief -pause.</p> - -<p>This was more the stuff.</p> - -<p>“And I am fond of you, uncle,” said Sam in a hearty voice. “When I think -of all you have done for me——”</p> - -<p>“But,” went on Mr. Pynsent, “I feel that I shall<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15">{15}</a></span> like you even better -three thousand miles away from the offices of the Pynsent Export and -Import Company. We are parting, Sam—and immediately.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry.”</p> - -<p>“I, on the other hand,” said Mr. Pynsent, “am glad.”</p> - -<p>There was a silence. Sam, feeling that the interview, having reached -this point, might be considered over, got up.</p> - -<p>“Wait a moment,” said Mr. Pynsent. “I want to tell you what plans I have -made for your future.”</p> - -<p>Sam was agreeably surprised. He had not supposed that his future would -be of interest to Mr. Pynsent.</p> - -<p>“Have you made plans?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; everything is settled.”</p> - -<p>“This is fine, uncle,” said Sam cordially. “I thought you were going to -drive me out into the snow.”</p> - -<p>“Do you remember meeting an Englishman named Lord Tilbury at dinner at -my house?”</p> - -<p>Sam did indeed. His Lordship had got him wedged into a corner after the -meal and had talked without a pause for more than half an hour.</p> - -<p>“He is the proprietor of the Mammoth Publishing Company, a concern which -produces a great many daily and weekly papers in London.”</p> - -<p>Sam was aware of this. Lord Tilbury’s conversation had been almost -entirely autobiographical.</p> - -<p>“Well, he is returning to England on Saturday on the <i>Mauretania</i>, and -you are going with him.”</p> - -<p>“Eh?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16">{16}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“He has offered to employ you in his business.”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t know anything about newspaper work.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t know anything about anything,” Mr. Pynsent pointed out -gently. “It is the effect of your English public-school education. -However, you certainly cannot be a greater failure with Lord Tilbury -than you have been with me. That wastepaper basket over there has been -in my office only four days, and already it knows more about the export -and import business than you would learn if you stayed here fifty -years.”</p> - -<p>Sam made plaintive noises. Fifty years, he considered, was an -overstatement.</p> - -<p>“I concealed nothing of this from Lord Tilbury, but nevertheless he -insists on engaging you.”</p> - -<p>“Odd,” said Sam. He could not help feeling a little flattered at this -intense desire for his services on the part of a man who had met him -only once. Lord Tilbury might be a bore, but there was no getting away -from the fact that he had that gift without which no one can amass a -large fortune—that strange, almost uncanny gift for spotting the good -man when he saw him.</p> - -<p>“Not at all odd,” said Mr. Pynsent. “He and I are in the middle of a -business deal. He is trying to persuade me to do something which at -present I have not made up my mind to do. He thinks that by taking you -off my hands he will put me under an obligation. So he will.”</p> - -<p>“Uncle,” said Sam impressively, “I will make good.”</p> - -<p>“You’d better,” returned Mr. Pynsent, unmelted.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17">{17}</a></span> “It is your last -chance. There is no earthly reason why I should go on supporting you for -the rest of your life, and I do not intend to do it. If you make a mess -of things at Tilbury House, don’t think that you can come running back -to me. There will be no fatted calf. Remember that.”</p> - -<p>“I will, uncle, I will. But don’t worry. Something tells me I am going -to be good. I shall like going to England.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad to hear that. Well, that is all. Good afternoon.”</p> - -<p>“You know, it’s rather strange that you should be sending me over -there,” said Sam meditatively.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think so. I am glad to have the chance.”</p> - -<p>“What I mean is—do you believe in palmists?”</p> - -<p>“I do not. Good-bye.”</p> - -<p>“Because a palmist told me——”</p> - -<p>“The door,” said Mr. Pynsent, “is one of those which close automatically -when the handle is released.”</p> - -<p>Having tested this statement and proved it correct, Sam went back to his -own quarters, where he found Mr. Clarence (Hash) Todhunter, the popular -and energetic chef of the tramp steamer <i>Araminta</i>, awake and smoking a -short pipe.</p> - -<p>“Who was the old boy?” inquired Mr. Todhunter.</p> - -<p>“That was my uncle, the head of the firm.”</p> - -<p>“Did I go to sleep in his room?”</p> - -<p>“You did.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry about that, Sam,” said Hash, with manly regret. “I had a late -night last night.”</p> - -<p>He yawned spaciously. Hash Todhunter was a lean, stringy man in the -early thirties, with a high forehead<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18">{18}</a></span> and a ruminative eye. Irritated -messmates who had played poker with him had sometimes compared this eye -to that of a perishing fish; but to the critic whose judgment was not -biased and inflamed by recent pecuniary losses it would have been more -suggestive of a parrot which has looked on life and found it full of -disillusionment. There was a strong pessimistic streak in Hash, and in -his cups he was accustomed to hint darkly that if everyone had their -rights he would have been in the direct line of succession to an -earldom. It was a long and involved story, casting great discredit on -all the parties concerned; but as he never told it twice in the same -way, little credence was accorded to it by a discriminating fo’c’sle. -For the rest, he cooked the best dry hash on the Western Ocean, but was -not proud.</p> - -<p>“Hash,” said Sam, “I’m going over to England.”</p> - -<p>“Me too. We sail Monday.”</p> - -<p>“Do you, by Jove!” said Sam thoughtfully. “I’m supposed to be going on -the <i>Mauretania</i> on Saturday, but I’ve half a mind to come with you -instead. I don’t like the idea of six days <i>tête-à-tête</i> with Lord -Tilbury.”</p> - -<p>“Who’s he?”</p> - -<p>“The proprietor of the Mammoth Publishing Company, where I am going to -work.”</p> - -<p>“Have you got the push here then?”</p> - -<p>It piqued Sam a little that this untutored man should so readily have -divined the facts. He also considered that Hash had failed in tact. He -might at least have pretended that he supposed it to be a case of -handing in a resignation.</p> - -<p>“Yes, you might perhaps put it that way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19">{19}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Not because of me sittin’ in his chair?”</p> - -<p>“No. There are, apparently, a number of reasons. Hash, it’s a curious -thing, my uncle taking it into his head to shoot me over to England like -this. The other day a palmist told me that I was shortly going to take a -long journey, at the end of which I should meet a fair girl.... Hash!”</p> - -<p>“Ur?”</p> - -<p>“I want to show you something.”</p> - -<p>He fumbled in his pocket and produced a note-case. Having done this, he -paused. Then, seeming to overcome a momentary hesitation, he opened the -case and from it, with the delicacy of an Indian priest at a shrine -handling a precious relic, extracted a folded piece of paper.</p> - -<p>A casual observer, deceived by a certain cheery irresponsibility that -marked his behaviour, might have set Sam Shotter down as one of those -essentially material young men in whose armour romance does not easily -find a chink. He would have erred in this assumption. For all that he -weighed a hundred and seventy pounds of bone and sinew and had when -amused—which was often—a laugh like that of the hyena in its native -jungle, there was sentiment in Sam. Otherwise this paper would scarcely -have been in his possession.</p> - -<p>“But before showing it to you,” he said, eying Hash intently, “I would -like to ask you a question. Do you see anything funny, anything -laughable, anything at all ludicrous, in a fellow going for a fishing -trip to Canada and being stuck in a hut miles from anywhere with nothing -to read and nothing to listen to except the wild duck calling to its -mate and the nifties of a French-<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20">{20}</a></span>Canadian guide who couldn’t speak more -than three words of English——”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Hash.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t finished. Do you—to proceed—see anything absurd in the fact -that such a fellow, in such a situation, finding the photograph of a -beautiful girl tacked up on the wall of the hut by some previous visitor -and having nothing else to look at for five weeks, should have fallen in -love with this photograph? Think before you answer.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Hash, after consideration. He was not a man who readily -detected the humorous aspect of anything.</p> - -<p>“That’s good,” said Sam. “And lucky for you. Because had you let one -snicker out of yourself—just one—I would have smitten you rather -forcibly on the beezer. Well, I did.”</p> - -<p>“Did what?”</p> - -<p>“Found this picture tacked up on the wall and fell in love with it. -Look!”</p> - -<p>He unfolded the paper reverently. It now revealed itself as a portion of -a page torn from one of those illustrated journals which brighten the -middle of the Englishman’s week. Its sojourn on the wall of the fishing -hut had not improved it. It was faded and yellow, and over one corner a -dark stain had spread itself, seeming to indicate that some occupant of -the hut had at one time or another done a piece of careless carving. -Nevertheless, he gazed at it as a young knight might have gazed upon the -Holy Grail.</p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>Hash surveyed the paper closely.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21">{21}</a></span></p> - -<p>“That’s mutton gravy,” he said, pointing at the stain and forming a -professional man’s swift diagnosis. “Beef wouldn’t be so dark.”</p> - -<p>Sam regarded him with a glance of concentrated loathing which would have -embarrassed a more sensitive man.</p> - -<p>“I show you this lovely face, all aglow with youth and the joy of life,” -he cried, “and all that seems to interest you is that some foul vandal, -whose neck I should like to wring, has splashed his beastly dinner over -it. Heavens, man, look at that girl! Have you ever seen such a girl?”</p> - -<p>“She’s not bad.”</p> - -<p>“Not bad! Can’t you see she’s simply marvellous?”</p> - -<p>The photograph did, indeed, to a great extent justify Sam’s enthusiasm. -It represented a girl in hunting costume, standing beside her horse. She -was a trim, boyish-looking girl of about eighteen, slightly above the -medium height; and she gazed out of the picture with clear, grave, -steady eyes. At the corner of her mouth there was a little thoughtful -droop. It was a pretty mouth; but Sam, who had made a study of the -picture and considered himself the world’s leading authority upon it, -was of opinion that it would look even prettier when smiling.</p> - -<p>Under the photograph, in leaded capitals, ran the words:</p> - -<p class="c"> -A FAIR DAUGHTER OF NIMROD.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Beneath this poetical caption, it is to be presumed, there had -originally been more definite information as<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22">{22}</a></span> to the subject’s identity, -but the coarse hand which had wrenched the page from its setting had -unfortunately happened to tear off the remainder of the letterpress.</p> - -<p>“Simply marvellous,” said Sam emotionally. “What’s that thing of -Tennyson’s about a little English rosebud, she?”</p> - -<p>“Tennyson? There was a feller when I was on the <i>Sea Bird</i>, called -Pennyman——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, shut up! Isn’t she a wonder, Hash! And what is more—fair, wouldn’t -you say?”</p> - -<p>Hash scratched his chin. He was a man who liked to think things over.</p> - -<p>“Or dark,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Idiot! Don’t tell me those eyes aren’t blue.”</p> - -<p>“Might be,” admitted Hash grudgingly.</p> - -<p>“And that hair would be golden, or possibly a very light brown.”</p> - -<p>“How’m I to know?”</p> - -<p>“Hash,” said Sam, “the very first thing I do when I get to England is to -find out who that girl is.”</p> - -<p>“Easy enough.” Hash pointed the stem of his pipe at the caption. -“Daughter of Nimrod. All you got to do is get a telephone directory and -look him up. It’ll give the address as well.”</p> - -<p>“How do you think of these things?” said Sam admiringly. “The only -trouble is, suppose old man Nimrod lives in the country. He sounds like -a hunting man.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said Hash. “There’s that, o’ course.”</p> - -<p>“No, my best scheme will be to find out what paper<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23">{23}</a></span> this is torn out of, -and then search back through the files for the picture.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe,” said Hash. He had plainly lost interest in the subject.</p> - -<p>Sam was gazing dreamily at the picture.</p> - -<p>“Do you see that little dimple just by the chin, Hash? My goodness, I’d -give something to see that girl smile!” He replaced the paper in his -note-case and sighed. “Love is a wonderful thing, Hash.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Todhunter’s ample mouth curled sardonically.</p> - -<p>“When you’ve seen as much of life as I have,” he replied, “you’d rather -have a cup of tea.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24">{24}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>CHAPTER TWO<br /><br /> -<small>KAY OF VALLEY FIELDS</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HE nameless individual who had torn from its setting the photograph -which had so excited the admiration of Sam Shotter had, as has been -already indicated, torn untidily. Had he exercised a little more care, -that lovelorn young man would have seen beneath the picture the -following legend:</p> - -<p class="c"> -<span class="smcap">Miss Kay Derrick, Daughter of Col. Eustace<br /> -Derrick, of Midways Hall, Wilts.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>And if he had happened to be in Piccadilly Circus on a certain afternoon -some three weeks after his conversation with Hash Todhunter, he might -have observed Miss Derrick in person. For she was standing on the island -there waiting for a Number Three omnibus.</p> - -<p>His first impression, had he so beheld her, would certainly have been -that the photograph, attractive though it was, did not do her justice. -Four years had passed since it had been taken, and between the ages of -eighteen and twenty-two many girls gain appreciably in looks. Kay -Derrick was one of them. He would then have observed that his views on -her appearance had been sound. Her eyes, as he had predicted, were -blue—a very dark, warm blue like the sky<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25">{25}</a></span> on a summer night—and her -hair, such of it as was visible beneath a becoming little hat, was of a -soft golden brown. The third thing he would have noticed about her was -that she looked tired. And, indeed, she was. It was her daily task to -present herself at the house of a certain Mrs. Winnington-Bates in -Thurloe Square, South Kensington, to read to that lady and to attend to -her voluminous correspondence. And nobody who knew Mrs. Winnington-Bates -at all intimately would have disputed the right of any girl who did this -to look as tired as she pleased.</p> - -<p>The omnibus arrived and Kay climbed the steps to the roof. The conductor -presented himself, punch in hand.</p> - -<p>“Fez, pliz.”</p> - -<p>“Valley Fields,” said Kay.</p> - -<p>“Q,” said the conductor.</p> - -<p>He displayed no excitement as he handed her the ticket, none of that -anxious concern exhibited by those who met the young man with the banner -marked Excelsior; for the days are long past when it was considered -rather a dashing adventure to journey to Valley Fields. Two hundred -years ago, when highwaymen roved West Kensington and snipe were shot in -Regent Street, this pleasant suburb in the Postal Division S. E. 21 was -a remote spot to which jaded bucks and beaux would ride when they wanted -to get really close to Nature. But now that vast lake of brick and -asphalt which is London has flooded its banks and engulfed it. The -Valley Fields of to-day is a mass of houses, and you may reach it not -only by omnibus but by train, and even by tram.</p> - -<p>It was a place very familiar to Kay now, so that at<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26">{26}</a></span> times she seemed to -have been there all her life; and yet actually only a few months had -elapsed since she had been washed up on its shores like a piece of -flotsam; or, to put the facts with less imagery, since Mr. Wrenn, of San -Rafael, Burberry Road, had come forward on the death of her parents and -offered her a home there. This Mr. Wrenn being the bad Uncle Matthew who -in the dim past—somewhere around the year 1905—splashed a hideous blot -on the Derrick escutcheon by eloping with Kay’s Aunt Enid.</p> - -<p>Kay had been a child of two at the time, and it was not till she was -eight that she heard the story, her informant being young Willoughby -Braddock, the stout boy who, with the aid of a trustee, owned the great -house and estates adjoining Midways. It was a romantic story—of a young -man who had come down to do Midways for the Stately-Homes-of-England -series appearing in the then newly established Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i>; -who in the process of doing it had made the acquaintance of the sister -of its owner; and who only a few weeks later had induced her to run away -and marry him, thereby—according to the viewpoint of the -family—ruining her chances in this world and her prospects in the next.</p> - -<p>For twenty years Matthew Wrenn had been the family outcast, and now time -had accomplished one more of its celebrated revenges. The death of -Colonel Derrick, which had followed that of his wife by a few months, -had revealed the fact that in addition to Norman blood he had also had -the simple faith which the poet ranks so much more highly—it taking the -form of trusting prospectuses which should not have de<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27">{27}</a></span>ceived a child -and endeavouring to make up losses caused by the diminishing value of -land with a series of speculations, each of them more futile and -disastrous than the last. His capital had gone to the four winds, -Midways had gone to the mortgagees, and Kay, apprised of these facts by -a sympathetic family lawyer, had gone to Mr. Matthew Wrenn, now for many -years the editor of that same Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i> of which he had -once been the mere representative.</p> - -<p>The omnibus stopped at the corner of Burberry Road, and Kay, alighting, -walked toward San Rafael. Burberry Road is not one of the more -fashionable and wealthy districts of Valley Fields, and most of the -houses in it are semi-detached. San Rafael belonged to this class, being -joined, like a stucco Siamese Twin, in indissoluble union to its -next-door neighbour, Mon Repos. It had in front of it a strip of gravel, -two apologetic-looking flower beds with evergreens in them, a fence, and -in the fence a gate, modelled on the five-barred gates of the country.</p> - -<p>Out of this gate, as Kay drew near, there came an elderly gentleman, -tall, with grey hair and a scholarly stoop.</p> - -<p>“Why, hullo, darling,” said Kay. “Where are you off to?”</p> - -<p>She kissed her uncle affectionately, for she had grown very fond of him -in the months of their companionship.</p> - -<p>“Just popping round to have a chat with Cornelius,” said Mr. Wrenn. “I -thought I might get a game of chess.”</p> - -<p>In actual years Matthew Wrenn was on the right<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28">{28}</a></span> side of fifty; but as -editors of papers like Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i> are apt to do, he looked -older than he really was. He was a man of mild and dreamy aspect, and it -being difficult to imagine him in any dashing rôle, Kay rather supposed -that the energy and fire which had produced the famous elopement must -have come from the lady’s side.</p> - -<p>“Well, don’t be late for dinner,” she said. “Is Willoughby in?”</p> - -<p>“I left him in the garden.” Mr. Wrenn hesitated. “That’s a curious young -man, Kay.”</p> - -<p>“It’s an awful shame that he should be inflicted on you, darling,” said -Kay. “His housekeeper shooed him out of his house, you know. She wanted -to give it a thorough cleaning. And he hates staying at clubs and -hotels, and I’ve known him all my life, and he asked me if we could put -him up, and—well, there you are. But cheer up, it’s only for to-night.”</p> - -<p>“My dear, you know I’m only too glad to put up any friend of yours. But -he’s such a peculiar young fellow. I have been trying to talk to him for -an hour, and all he does is to look at me like a goldfish.”</p> - -<p>“Like a goldfish?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, with his eyes staring and his lips moving without any sound coming -from them.”</p> - -<p>Kay laughed.</p> - -<p>“It’s his speech. I forgot to tell you. The poor lamb has got to make a -speech to-night at the annual dinner of the Old Boys of his school. He’s -never made one before, and it’s weighing on his mind terribly.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Wrenn looked relieved.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I didn’t know. Honestly, my dear, I thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29">{29}</a></span> that he must be -mentally deficient.” He looked at his watch. “Well, if you think you can -entertain him, I will be going along.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Wrenn went on his way; and Kay, passing through the five-barred -gate, followed the little gravel path which skirted the house and came -into the garden.</p> - -<p>Like all the gardens in the neighbourhood, it was a credit to its -owner—on the small side, but very green and neat and soothing. The fact -that, though so widely built over, Valley Fields has not altogether lost -its ancient air of rusticity is due entirely to the zeal and devotion of -its amateur horticulturists. More seeds are sold each spring in Valley -Fields, more lawn mowers pushed, more garden rollers borrowed, more -snails destroyed, more green fly squirted with patent mixtures, than in -any other suburb on the Surrey side of the river. Brixton may have its -Bon Marché and Sydenham its Crystal Palace; but when it comes to -pansies, roses, tulips, hollyhocks and nasturtiums, Valley Fields points -with pride.</p> - -<p>In addition to its other attractive features, the garden of San Rafael -contained at this moment a pinkish, stoutish, solemn young man in a -brown suit, who was striding up and down the lawn with a glassy stare in -his eyes.</p> - -<p>“Hullo, Willoughby,” said Kay.</p> - -<p>The young man came out of his trance with a strong physical convulsion.</p> - -<p>“Oh, hullo, Kay.”</p> - -<p>He followed her across the lawn to the tea table which stood in the -shade of a fine tree. For there are trees in this favoured spot as well -as flowers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30">{30}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Tea, Willoughby?” said Kay, sinking gratefully into a deck chair. “Or -have you had yours?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I had some.... I think——” Mr. Braddock weighed the question -thoughtfully. “Yes.... Yes, I’ve had some.”</p> - -<p>Kay filled her cup and sipped luxuriously.</p> - -<p>“Golly, I’m tired!” she said.</p> - -<p>“Had a bad day?”</p> - -<p>“Much the same as usual.”</p> - -<p>“Mrs. B. not too cordial?”</p> - -<p>“Not very. And, unfortunately, the son and heir was cordiality itself.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock nodded.</p> - -<p>“A bit of a trial, that lad.”</p> - -<p>“A bit.”</p> - -<p>“Wants kicking.”</p> - -<p>“Very badly.”</p> - -<p>Kay gave a little wriggle of distaste. Technically, her duties at -Thurloe Square consisted of reading and writing Mrs. Winnington-Bates’ -letters; but what she was engaged for principally, she sometimes -thought, was to act as a sort of spiritual punching bag for her -employer. To-day that lady had been exceptionally trying. Her son, on -the other hand, who had recently returned to his home after an -unsuccessful attempt to learn poultry farming in Sussex and was lounging -about it, with little to occupy him, had shown himself, in his few -moments of opportunity, more than usually gallant. What life needed to -make it a trifle easier, Kay felt, was for Mrs. Bates to admire her a -little more and for Claude Bates to admire her a little less.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31">{31}</a></span></p> - -<p>“I remember him at school,” said Mr. Braddock. “A worm.”</p> - -<p>“Was he at school with you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Younger than me. A beastly little kid who stuffed himself with -food and frousted over fires and shirked games. I remember Sam Shotter -licking him once for stealing jam sandwiches at the school shop. By the -way, Sam’s coming over here. I had a letter from him.”</p> - -<p>“Is he? And who is he? You’ve never mentioned his name before.”</p> - -<p>“Haven’t I told you about old Sam Shotter?” asked Mr. Braddock, -surprised.</p> - -<p>“Never. But he sounds wonderfully attractive. Anyone who licked Claude -Bates must have a lot of good in him.”</p> - -<p>“He was at school with me.”</p> - -<p>“What a lot of people seem to have been at school with you!”</p> - -<p>“Well, there were about six hundred fellows at Wrykyn, you know. Sam and -I shared a study. Now there is a chap I envy. He’s knocked about all -over the world, having all sorts of fun. America one day, Australia the -next, Africa the day after.”</p> - -<p>“Quick mover,” said Kay.</p> - -<p>“The last I heard from him he was in his uncle’s office in New York, but -in this letter he says he’s coming over to work at Tilbury House.”</p> - -<p>“Tilbury House? Really? I wonder if uncle will meet him.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you think it would be a sound move if I gave him a dinner or -something where he could meet a few<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32">{32}</a></span> of the lads? You and your uncle, of -course—and if I could get hold of old Tilbury.”</p> - -<p>“Do you know Lord Tilbury?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes; I play bridge with him sometimes at the club. And he took my -shooting last year.”</p> - -<p>“When does Mr. Shotter arrive?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. He says it’s uncertain. You see, he’s coming over on a -tramp steamer.”</p> - -<p>“A tramp steamer? Why?”</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s the sort of thing he does. Sort of thing I’d like to do -too.”</p> - -<p>“You?” said Kay, amazed. Willoughby Braddock had always seemed to her a -man to whose well-being the refinements—and even the luxuries—of -civilisation were essential. One of her earliest recollections was of -sitting in a tree and hurling juvenile insults at him, it having come to -her ears through reliable channels that he habitually wore bed socks. -“What nonsense, Willoughby! You would hate roughing it.”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t,” said Mr. Braddock stoutly. “I’d love a bit of adventure.”</p> - -<p>“Well, why don’t you have it? You’ve got plenty of money. You could be a -pirate of the Spanish Main if you wanted.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock shook his head wistfully.</p> - -<p>“I can’t get away from Mrs. Lippett.”</p> - -<p>Willoughby Braddock was one of those unfortunate bachelors who are -doomed to live under the thrall of either a housekeeper or a valet. His -particular cross in life was his housekeeper, his servitude being -rendered all the more unescapable by the fact that Mrs. Lippett had been -his nurse in the days of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33">{33}</a></span> his childhood. There are men who can defy a -woman. There are men who can cope with a faithful old retainer. But if -there are men who can tackle a faithful old female retainer who has -frequently smacked them with the back of a hairbrush, Willoughby -Braddock was not one of them.</p> - -<p>“She would have a fit or go into a decline or something if I tried to -break loose.”</p> - -<p>“Poor old Willoughby! Life can be very hard, can’t it? By the way, I met -my uncle outside. He was complaining that you were not very chummy.”</p> - -<p>“No, was he?”</p> - -<p>“He said you just sat there looking at him like a goldfish.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I say!” said Mr. Braddock remorsefully. “I’m awfully sorry. I mean, -after he’s been so decent, putting me up and everything. I hope you -explained to him that I was frightfully worried about this speech.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I did. But I don’t see why you should be. It’s perfectly simple -making a speech. Especially at an Old Boys’ dinner, where they won’t -expect anything very much. If I were you, I should just get up and tell -them one or two funny stories and sit down again.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve got one story,” said Mr. Braddock more hopefully. “It’s about an -Irishman.”</p> - -<p>“Pat or Mike?”</p> - -<p>“I thought of calling him Pat. He’s in New York and he goes down to the -dock and he sees a diver coming up out of the water—in a diving suit, -you know—and he thinks the fellow—the diver, you understand—has -walked across the Atlantic and wishes he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34">{34}</a></span> thought of doing the same -himself, so as to have saved the fare, don’t you know.”</p> - -<p>“I see. One of those weak-minded Irishmen.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think it will amuse them?” asked Mr. Braddock anxiously.</p> - -<p>“I should think they would roll off their seats.”</p> - -<p>“No, really?” He broke off and stretched out a hand in alarm. “I say, -you weren’t thinking of having one of those rock cakes, were you?”</p> - -<p>“I was. But I won’t if you don’t want me to. Aren’t they good?”</p> - -<p>“Good? My dear old soul,” said Mr. Braddock earnestly, “they are Clara’s -worst effort—absolutely her very worst. I had to eat one because she -came and stood over me and watched me do it. It beats me why you don’t -sack that girl. She’s a rotten cook.”</p> - -<p>“Sack Claire?” Kay laughed. “You might just as well try to sack her -mother.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose you’re right.”</p> - -<p>“You can’t sack a Lippett.”</p> - -<p>“No, I see what you mean. I wish she wasn’t so dashed familiar with a -fellow, though.”</p> - -<p>“Well, she has known you almost as long as I have. Mrs. Lippett has -always been a sort of mother to you, so I suppose Claire regards herself -as a sort of sister.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I suppose it can’t be helped,” said Mr. Braddock bravely. He -glanced at his watch. “Ought to be going and dressing. I’ll find you out -here before I leave?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll be pushing along. I say, you do think that story about the -Irishman is all right?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35">{35}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Best thing I ever heard,” said Kay loyally.</p> - -<p>For some minutes after he had left her she sat back in her chair with -her eyes closed, relaxing in the evening stillness of this pleasant -garden.</p> - -<p>“Finished with the tea, Miss Kay?”</p> - -<p>Kay opened her eyes. A solid little figure in a print dress was standing -at her side. A jaunty maid’s cap surmounted this person’s tow-coloured -hair. She had a perky nose and a wide, friendly mouth, and she beamed -upon Kay devotedly.</p> - -<p>“Brought you these,” she said, dropping a rug, two cushions and a -footstool, beneath the burden of which she had been staggering across -the lawn like a small pack mule. “Make you nice and comfortable, and -then you can get a nice nap. I can see you’re all tired out.”</p> - -<p>“That’s awfully good of you, Claire. But you shouldn’t have bothered.”</p> - -<p>Claire Lippett, daughter of Willoughby Braddock’s autocratic housekeeper -and cook and maid-of-all-work at San Rafael, was a survivor of the -Midways epoch. She had entered the Derrick household at the age of -twelve, her duties at that time being vague and leaving her plenty of -leisure for surreptitious bird’s-nesting with Kay, then thirteen. On her -eighteenth birthday she had been promoted to the post of Kay’s personal -maid, and from that moment may be said formally to have taken charge. -The Lippett motto was Fidelity, and not even the famous financial crash -had been able to dislodge this worthy daughter of the clan. Resolutely -following Kay into exile, she had become, as stated, Mr. Wrenn’s cook. -And, as Mr. Braddock had justly remarked, a very bad cook too.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36">{36}</a></span></p> - -<p>“You oughtn’t to go getting yourself all tired, Miss Kay. You ought to -be sitting at your ease.”</p> - -<p>“Well, so I am,” said Kay.</p> - -<p>There were times when, like Mr. Braddock, she found the Lippett -protectiveness a little cloying. She was a high-spirited girl and wanted -to face the world with a defiant “Who cares?” and it was not easy to do -this with Claire coddling her all the time as if she were a fragile and -sensitive plant. Resistance, however, was useless. Nobody had ever yet -succeeded in curbing the motherly spirit of the Lippetts, and probably -nobody ever would.</p> - -<p>“Meantersay,” explained Claire, adjusting the footstool, “you ought not -to be soiling your hands with work, that’s what I mean. It’s a shame you -should be having to——”</p> - -<p>She stopped abruptly. She had picked up the tea tray and made a wounding -discovery.</p> - -<p>“You haven’t touched my rock cakes,” she said in a voice in which -reproach and disappointment were nicely blended. “And I made them for -you special.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t want to spoil my dinner,” said Kay hastily. Claire was a -temperamental girl, quick to resent slurs on her handiwork. “I’m sure -you’ve got something nice.”</p> - -<p>Claire considered the point.</p> - -<p>“Well, yes and no,” she said. “If you’re thinking of the pudding, I’m -afraid that’s off. The kitten fell into the custard.”</p> - -<p>“No!”</p> - -<p>“She did. And when I’d fished her out there wasn’t hardly any left. -Seemed to have soaked it into her like<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37">{37}</a></span> as if she was a sponge. Still, -there ’ud be enough for you if Mr. Wrenn didn’t want any.”</p> - -<p>“No, it doesn’t matter, thanks,” said Kay earnestly.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m trying a new soup, which’ll sort of make up for it. It’s one -I read in a book. It’s called pottage ar lar princess. You’re sure you -won’t have one of these rock cakes, Miss Kay? Put strength into you.”</p> - -<p>“No, thanks, really.”</p> - -<p>“Right-ho; just as you say.”</p> - -<p>Miss Lippett crossed the lawn and disappeared, and a soothing peace fell -upon the garden. A few minutes later, however, just as Kay’s head was -beginning to nod, from an upper window there suddenly blared forth on -the still air a loud and raucous voice, suggestive of costermongers -advertising their Brussels sprouts or those who call the cattle home -across the Sands of Dee.</p> - -<p>“I am reminded by a remark of our worthy president,” roared the voice, -“of a little story which may be new to some of you present here -to-night. It seems that a certain Irishman had gone down to New York—I -mean, he was in New York and had gone down to the docks—and while -there—while there——”</p> - -<p>The voice trailed off. Apparently the lungs were willing but the memory -was weak. Presently it broke out in another place.</p> - -<p>“For the school, gentlemen, our dear old school, occupies a place in our -hearts—a place in our hearts—in the hearts of all of us—in all our -hearts—in our hearts, gentlemen—which nothing else can fill. It forms, -if I may put it that way, Mr. President and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38">{38}</a></span> -gentlemen—forms—forms—forms a link that links the generations. -Whether we are fifty years old or forty or thirty or twenty, we are none -the less all of us contemporaries. And why? Because, gentlemen, we are -all—er—linked by that link.”</p> - -<p>“Jolly good!” murmured Kay, impressed.</p> - -<p>“That is why, Mr. President and gentlemen, though I am glad, delighted, -pleased, happy and—er—overjoyed to see so many of you responding to -the annual call of our dear old school, I am not surprised.”</p> - -<p>From the kitchen door, a small knife in one hand and a half-peeled onion -in the other, there emerged the stocky figure of Claire Lippett. She -gazed up at the window wrathfully.</p> - -<p>“Hi!”</p> - -<p>“No, not surprised.”</p> - -<p>“Hi!”</p> - -<p>“And talking of being surprised, I am reminded of a little story which -may be new to some of you present here to-night. It seems that a certain -Irishman——”</p> - -<p>From the days when their ancestresses had helped the menfolk of the -tribe to make marauding Danes wish they had stayed in Denmark, the -female members of Claire Lippett’s family had always been women of -action. Having said “Hi!” twice, their twentieth-century descendant -seemed to consider that she had done all that could reasonably be -expected of her in the way of words. With a graceful swing of her right -arm, she sent the onion shooting upward. And such was the never-failing -efficiency of this masterly girl that it whizzed through the open -window, from which, after a brief interval, there appeared, leaning<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39">{39}</a></span> -out, the dress-shirted and white-tied upper portion of Mr. Willoughby -Braddock. He was rubbing his ear.</p> - -<p>“Be quiet, can’t you?” said Miss Lippett.</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock gazed austerely into the depths. Except that the positions -of the characters were inverted and the tone of the dialogue somewhat -different, it might have been the big scene out of <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>.</p> - -<p>“What did you say?”</p> - -<p>“I said be quiet. Miss Kay wants to get a bit of sleep. How can she get -a bit of sleep with that row going on?”</p> - -<p>“Clara!” said Mr. Braddock portentously.</p> - -<p>“Claire,” corrected the girl coldly, insisting on a point for which she -had had to fight all her life.</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock gulped.</p> - -<p>“I shall—er—I shall speak to your mother,” he said.</p> - -<p>It was a futile threat, and Claire signified as much by jerking her -shoulder in a scornful and derogatory manner before stumping back to the -house with all the honours of war. She knew—and Mr. Braddock knew that -she knew—that complaints respecting her favourite daughter would be -coldly received by Mrs. Lippett.</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock withdrew from the window, and presently appeared in the -garden, beautifully arrayed.</p> - -<p>“Why, Willoughby,” said Kay admiringly, “you look wonderful!”</p> - -<p>The kindly compliment did much to soothe Mr. Braddock’s wounded -feelings.</p> - -<p>“No, really?” he said; and felt, as he had so often felt before, that -Kay was a girl in a million, and that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40">{40}</a></span> if only the very idea of -matrimony did not scare a fellow so confoundedly, a fellow might very -well take a chance and see what would happen if he asked her to marry -him.</p> - -<p>“And the speech sounded fine.”</p> - -<p>“Really? You know, I got a sudden fear that my voice might not carry.”</p> - -<p>“It carries,” Kay assured him.</p> - -<p>The clouds which her compliments had chased from Mr. Braddock’s brow -gathered again.</p> - -<p>“I say, Kay, you know, you really ought to do something about that girl -Clara. She’s impossible. I mean, throwing onions at a fellow.”</p> - -<p>“You mustn’t mind. Don’t worry about her; it’ll make you forget your -speech. How long are you supposed to talk?”</p> - -<p>“About ten minutes, I imagine. You know, this is going to just about -kill me.”</p> - -<p>“What you must do is drink lots and lots of champagne.”</p> - -<p>“But it makes me spotty.”</p> - -<p>“Well, be spotty. I shan’t mind.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock considered.</p> - -<p>“I will,” he said. “It’s a very good idea. Well, I suppose I ought to be -going.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve got your key? That’s right. You won’t be back till pretty late, -of course. I’ll go and tell Claire not to bolt the door.”</p> - -<p>When Kay reached the kitchen she found that her faithful follower had -stepped out of the pages of <i>Romeo and Juliet</i> into those of <i>Macbeth</i>. -She was bending over a cauldron, dropping things into it. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41">{41}</a></span> kitten, -now comparatively dry and decustarded, eyed her with bright interest -from a shelf on the dresser.</p> - -<p>“This is the new soup, Miss Kay,” she announced with modest pride.</p> - -<p>“It smells fine,” said Kay, wincing slightly as a painful aroma of -burning smote her nostrils. “I say, Claire, I wish you wouldn’t throw -onions at Mr. Braddock.”</p> - -<p>“I went up and got it back,” Claire reassured her. “It’s in the soup -now.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll be in the soup if you do that sort of thing. What,” asked Kay -virtuously, “will the neighbours say?”</p> - -<p>“There aren’t any neighbours,” Claire pointed out. A wistful look came -into her perky face. “I wish someone would hurry up and move into Mon -Ree-poss,” she said. “I don’t like not having next-doors. Gets lonely -for a girl all day with no one to talk to.”</p> - -<p>“Well, when you talk to Mr. Braddock, don’t do it at the top of your -voice. Please understand that I don’t like it.”</p> - -<p>“Now,” said Claire simply, “you’re cross with me.” And without further -preamble she burst into a passionate flood of tears.</p> - -<p>It was this sensitiveness of hers that made it so difficult for the -young chatelaine of San Rafael to deal with the domestic staff. Kay was -a warm-hearted girl, and a warm-hearted girl can never be completely at -her ease when she is making cooks cry. It took ten minutes of sedulous -petting to restore the emotional Miss Lippett to her usual cheerfulness.</p> - -<p>“I’ll never raise my voice so much as above a whis<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42">{42}</a></span>per to the man,” she -announced remorsefully at the end of that period. “All the same——”</p> - -<p>Kay had no desire to reopen the Braddock argument.</p> - -<p>“That’s all right, Claire. What I really came to say was—don’t put the -chain up on the front door to-night, because Mr. Braddock is sure to be -late. But he will come in quite quietly and won’t disturb you.”</p> - -<p>“He’d better not,” said Miss Lippett grimly. “I’ve got a revolver.”</p> - -<p>“A revolver!”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” Claire bent darkly over her cauldron. “You never know when there -won’t be burglars in these low parts. The girl at Pontresina down the -road was telling me they’d had a couple of milk cans sneaked off their -doorstep only yesterday. And I’ll tell you another thing, Miss Kay. It’s -my belief there’s been people breaking into Mon Ree-poss.”</p> - -<p>“What would they do that for? It’s empty.”</p> - -<p>“It wasn’t empty last night. I was looking out of the window with one of -my noo-ralgic headaches—must have been between two and three in the -morning—and there was mysterious lights going up and down the -staircase.”</p> - -<p>“You imagined it.”</p> - -<p>“Begging your pardon, Miss Kay, I did not imagine it. There they were, -as plain as plain. Might have been one of these electric torches the -criminal classes use. If you want to know what I think, Miss Kay, that -Mon Ree-poss is what I call a house of mystery, and I shan’t be sorry -when somebody respectable comes and takes it. The way it is now, we’re -just as likely<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43">{43}</a></span> as not to wake up and find ourselves all murdered in our -beds.”</p> - -<p>“You mustn’t be so nervous.”</p> - -<p>“Nervous?” replied Claire indignantly. “Nervous? Take more than a -burglar to make me nervous. All I’m saying is, I’m prepared.”</p> - -<p>“Well, don’t go shooting Mr. Braddock.”</p> - -<p>“That,” said Miss Lippett, declining to commit herself, “is as may be.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44">{44}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>CHAPTER THREE<br /><br /> -<small>SAILORS DON’T CARE</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">S</span>OME five hours after Willoughby Braddock’s departure from San Rafael, a -young man came up Villiers Street, and turning into the Strand, began to -stroll slowly eastward. The Strand, it being the hour when the theatres -had begun to empty themselves, was a roaring torrent of humanity and -vehicles; and he looked upon the bustling scene with the affectionate -eye of one who finds the turmoil of London novel and attractive. He was -a nice-looking young man, but what was most immediately noticeable about -him was his extraordinary shabbiness. Both his shoes were split across -the toe; his hands were in the pockets of a stained and weather-beaten -pair of blue trousers; and he gazed about him from under the brim of a -soft hat which could have been worn without exciting comment by any -scarecrow.</p> - -<p>So striking was his appearance that two exquisites, emerging from the -Savoy Hotel and pausing on the pavement to wait for a vacant taxi, eyed -him with pained disapproval as he approached, and then, starting, stared -in amazement.</p> - -<p>“Good Lord!” said the first exquisite.</p> - -<p>“Good heavens!” said the second.</p> - -<p>“See who that is?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45">{45}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“S. P. Shotter! Used to be in the School House.”</p> - -<p>“Captain of football my last year.”</p> - -<p>“But, I say, it can’t be! Dressed like that, I mean.”</p> - -<p>“It is.”</p> - -<p>“Good heavens!”</p> - -<p>“Good Lord!”</p> - -<p>These two were men who had, in the matter of costume, a high standard. -Themselves snappy and conscientious dressers, they judged their fellows -hardly. Yet even an indulgent critic would have found it difficult not -to shake his head over the spectacle presented by Sam Shotter as he -walked the Strand that night.</p> - -<p>The fact is it is not easy for a young man of adventurous and -inquisitive disposition to remain dapper throughout a voyage on a tramp -steamer. The <i>Araminta</i>, which had arrived at Millwall Dock that -afternoon, had taken fourteen days to cross the Atlantic, and during -those fourteen days Sam had entered rather fully into the many-sided -life of the ship. He had spent much time in an oily engine room; he had -helped the bos’n with a job of painting; he had accompanied the chief -engineer on his rambles through the coal bunkers; and on more than one -occasion had endeared himself to languid firemen by taking their shovels -and doing a little amateur stoking. One cannot do these things and be -foppish.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, it would have surprised him greatly had he known that his -appearance was being adversely criticised, for he was in that happy -frame of mind when men forget they have an appearance. He had dined -well, having as his guest his old friend Hash Todhunter. He had seen a -motion picture of squashy<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46">{46}</a></span> sex appeal. And now, having put Hash on an -eastbound tram, he was filled with that pleasant sense of well-being and -content which comes on those rare occasions when the world is just about -right. So far from being abashed by the shabbiness of his exterior Sam -found himself experiencing, as he strolled along the Strand, a -gratifying illusion of having bought the place. He felt like the young -squire returned from his travels and revisiting the old village.</p> - -<p>Nor, though he was by nature a gregarious young man and fond of human -society, did the fact that he was alone depress him. Much as he liked -Hash Todhunter, he had not been sorry to part from him. Usually an -entertaining companion, Hash had been a little tedious to-night, owing -to a tendency to confine the conversation to the subject of a dog -belonging to a publican friend of his which was running in a whippet -race at Hackney Marshes next morning. Hash had, it seemed, betted his -entire savings on this animal, and not content with this, had pestered -Sam to lend him all his remaining cash to add to the investment. And -though Sam had found no difficulty in remaining firm, it is always a -bore to have to keep saying no.</p> - -<p>The two exquisites looked at each other apprehensively.</p> - -<p>“Shift ho, before he touches us, what?” said the first.</p> - -<p>“Shift absolutely ho,” assented the second.</p> - -<p>It was too late. The companion of their boyhood had come up, and after -starting to pass had paused, peering at them from under that dreadful -hat, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_47" id="page_47">{47}</a></span> seemed to cut them like a knife, in the manner of one trying -to identify half-remembered faces.</p> - -<p>“Bates and Tresidder!” he exclaimed at length. “By Jove!”</p> - -<p>“Hullo,” said the first exquisite.</p> - -<p>“Hullo!” said the second.</p> - -<p>“Well, well!” said Sam.</p> - -<p>There followed one of those awkward silences which so often occur at -these meetings of old schoolmates. The two exquisites were wondering -dismally when the inevitable touch would come, and Sam had just -recollected that these were two blighters whom, when <i>in statu -pupillari</i>, he had particularly disliked. Nevertheless, etiquette -demanded that a certain modicum of conversation be made.</p> - -<p>“What have you been doing with yourselves?” asked Sam. “You look very -festive.”</p> - -<p>“Been dining,” said the first exquisite.</p> - -<p>“Old Wrykynian dinner,” said the second.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, of course. It always was at this time of year, wasn’t it? Lots -of the lads there, I suppose?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes.”</p> - -<p>“Good dinner?”</p> - -<p>“Goodish,” said the first exquisite.</p> - -<p>“Not baddish,” said the second.</p> - -<p>“Rotten speeches, though.”</p> - -<p>“Awful!”</p> - -<p>“Can’t think where they dig these blokes up.”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“That man Braddock.”</p> - -<p>“Frightful.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t tell me the old Bradder actually made a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_48" id="page_48">{48}</a></span> speech!” said Sam, -pleased. “Was he very bad?”</p> - -<p>“Worst of the lot.”</p> - -<p>“Absolutely!”</p> - -<p>“That story about the Irishman.”</p> - -<p>“Foul!”</p> - -<p>“And all that rot about the dear old school.”</p> - -<p>“Ghastly!”</p> - -<p>“If you ask me,” said the first exquisite severely, “my opinion is that -he was as tight as an owl.”</p> - -<p>“Stewed to the eyebrows,” said the second.</p> - -<p>“I watched him during dinner and he was mopping up the stuff like a -vacuum cleaner.”</p> - -<p>There was a silence.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said the first exquisite uncomfortably, “we must be pushing on.”</p> - -<p>“Dashing off,” said the second exquisite.</p> - -<p>“Got to go to supper at the Angry Cheese.”</p> - -<p>“The where?” asked Sam.</p> - -<p>“Angry Cheese. New night-club in Panton Street. See you sometime, what?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>Another silence was about to congeal, when a taxi crawled up and the two -exquisites leaped joyously in.</p> - -<p>“Awful, a fellow going right under like that,” said the first.</p> - -<p>“Ghastly,” said the second.</p> - -<p>“Lucky we got away.”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“He was shaping for a touch,” said the first exquisite.</p> - -<p>“Trembling on his lips,” said the second.</p> - -<p>Sam walked on. Although the Messrs. Bates and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_49" id="page_49">{49}</a></span> Tresidder had never been -favourites of his, they belonged to what Mr. Braddock would have -called—and, indeed, had called no fewer than eleven times in his speech -that night—the dear old school; and the meeting with them had left him -pleasantly stimulated. The feeling of being a <i>seigneur</i> revisiting his -estates after long absence grew as he threaded his way through the -crowd. He eyed the passers-by in a jolly, Laughing Cavalier sort of way, -wishing he knew them well enough to slap them on the back. And when he -reached the corner of Wellington Street and came upon a disheveled -vocalist singing mournfully in the gutter, he could not but feel it a -personal affront that this sort of thing should be going on in his -domain. He was conscious of a sensation of being individually -responsible for this poor fellow’s reduced condition, and the situation -seemed to him to call for largess.</p> - -<p>On setting out that night Sam had divided his money into two portions. -His baggage, together with his letter of credit, had preceded him across -the ocean on the <i>Mauretania</i>; and as it might be a day or so before he -could establish connection with it, he had prudently placed the bulk of -his ready money in his note-case, earmarking it for the purchase of new -clothes and other necessaries on the morrow so that he might be enabled -to pay his first visit to Tilbury House in becoming state. The -remainder, sufficient for the evening’s festivities, he had put in his -trousers pockets.</p> - -<p>It was into his right trousers pocket therefore that he now groped. His -fingers closed on a half-crown. He promptly dropped it. He was feeling -<i>seigneurial</i>, but not so <i>seigneurial</i> as that. Something more in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50">{50}</a></span> -nature of a couple of coppers was what he was looking for, and it -surprised him to find that except for the half-crown the pocket appeared -to be empty. He explored the other pocket. That was empty too.</p> - -<p>The explanation was, of course, that the life of pleasure comes high. -You cannot go stuffing yourself and a voracious sea cook at restaurants, -taking buses and Underground trains all over the place, and finally -winding up at a cinema palace, without cutting into your capital. Sam -was reluctantly forced to the conclusion that the half-crown was his -only remaining spare coin. He was, accordingly, about to abandon the -idea of largess and move on, when the vocalist, having worked his way -through You’re the Sort of a Girl That Men Forget, began to sing that -other popular ballad entitled Sailors Don’t Care. And it was no doubt -the desire to refute the slur implied in these words on the great -brotherhood of which he was an amateur member that decided Sam to be -lavish.</p> - -<p>The half-crown changed hands.</p> - -<p>Sam resumed his walk. At a quarter past eleven at night there is little -to amuse and interest the stroller east of Wellington Street, so he now -crossed the road and turned westward. And he had not been walking more -than a few paces when he found himself looking into the brightly lighted -window of a small restaurant that appeared to specialise in shellfish. -The slab beyond the glass was paved with the most insinuating oysters. -Overcome with emotion, Sam stopped in his tracks.</p> - -<p>There is something about the oyster, nestling in its shell, which in the -hours that come when the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51">{51}</a></span> theatres are closed and London is beginning to -give itself up to nocturnal revelry stirs right-thinking men like a -bugle. There swept over Sam a sudden gnawing desire for nourishment. -Oysters with brown bread and a little stout were, he perceived, just -what this delightful evening demanded by way of a fitting climax. He -pulled out his note-case. Even if it meant an inferior suit next -morning, one of those Treasury notes which lay there must be broken into -here and now.</p> - -<p>It seemed to Sam, looking back later at this moment, that at the very -first touch the note-case had struck him as being remarkably thin. It -appeared to have lost its old jolly plumpness, as if some wasting fever -had struck it. Indeed, it gave the impression, when he opened it, of -being absolutely empty.</p> - -<p>It was not absolutely empty. It is true that none of the Treasury notes -remained, but there was something inside—a dirty piece of paper on -which were words written in pencil. He read them by the light that -poured from the restaurant window:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Sam</span>,—You will doubtless be surprised, Sam, to learn that I -have borowed your money. Dear Sam, I will send it back tomorow <small>A.M.</small> -prompt. Nothing can beat that wipet, Sam, so I have borowed your -money.</p> - -<p>“Trusting this finds you in the pink,</p> - -<p class="c"> -“Yrs. Obedtly,<br /><span style="margin-left: 20%;"> -“<span class="smcap">C. Todhunter</span>.”</span><br /> -</p></div> - -<p>Sam stood staring at this polished communication<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52">{52}</a></span> with sagging jaw. For -an instant it had a certain obscurity, the word “wipet” puzzling him -particularly.</p> - -<p>Then, unlike the missing money, it all came back to him.</p> - -<p>The rush of traffic was diminishing now, and the roar of a few minutes -back had become a mere rumble. It was almost as if London, sympathising -with his sorrow, had delicately hushed its giant voice. To such an -extent, in fact, was its voice hushed that that of the Wellington Street -vocalist was once more plainly audible, and there was in what he was -singing a poignant truth which had not impressed itself upon Sam when he -had first heard it.</p> - -<p>“Sailors don’t care,” chanted the vocalist. “Sailors don’t care. It’s -something to do with the salt in the blood. Sailors don’t care.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_53" id="page_53">{53}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>CHAPTER FOUR<br /><br /> -<small>SCENE OUTSIDE FASHIONABLE NIGHT-CLUB</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HE mental condition of a man who at half past eleven at night suddenly -finds himself penniless and without shelter in the heart of the great -city must necessarily be for a while somewhat confused. Sam’s first -coherent thought was to go back and try to recover that half-crown from -the wandering minstrel. After a very brief reflection, however, he -dismissed this scheme as too visionary for practical consideration. His -acquaintance with the other had been slight, but he had seen enough of -him to gather that he was not one of those rare spiritual fellows who -give half-crowns back. The minstrel was infirm and old, but many years -would have to elapse before he became senile enough for that. No, some -solution on quite different lines was required; and, thinking deeply, -Sam began to move slowly in the direction of Charing Cross.</p> - -<p>He was as yet far from being hopeless. Indeed, his mood at this point -might have been called optimistic; for he realised that, if this -disaster had been decreed by fate from the beginning of time—and he -supposed it had been, though that palmist had made no mention of it—it -could hardly have happened at a more convenient spot. The Old Wrykynian -dinner had<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_54" id="page_54">{54}</a></span> only just broken up, which meant that this portion of London -must be full of men who had been at school with him and would doubtless -be delighted to help him out with a temporary loan. At any moment now he -might run into some kindly old schoolfellow.</p> - -<p>And almost immediately he did. Or, rather, the old schoolfellow ran into -him. He had reached the Vaudeville Theatre and had paused, debating -within himself the advisability of crossing the street and seeing how -the hunting was on the other side, when a solid body rammed him in the -back.</p> - -<p>“Oh, sorry! Frightfully sorry! I say, awfully sorry!”</p> - -<p>It was a voice which had been absent from Sam’s life for some years, but -he recognised it almost before he had recovered his balance. He wheeled -joyfully round on the stout and red-faced young man who was with some -difficulty retrieving his hat from the gutter.</p> - -<p>“Excuse me,” he said, “but you are extraordinarily like a man I used to -know named J. W. Braddock.”</p> - -<p>“I am J. W. Braddock.”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” said Sam, “that accounts for the resemblance.”</p> - -<p>He contemplated his erstwhile study companion with affection. He would -have been glad at any time to meet the old Bradder, but he was -particularly glad to meet him now. As Mr. Braddock himself might have -put it, he was glad, delighted, pleased, happy and overjoyed. Willoughby -Braddock, bearing out the words of the two exquisites, was obviously in -a somewhat vinous condition, but Sam was no Puritan and was not offended -by this. The thing about Mr. Braddock that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_55" id="page_55">{55}</a></span> impressed itself upon him to -the exclusion of all else was the fact that he looked remarkably rich. -He had that air, than which there is none more delightful, of being the -sort of man who would lend a fellow a fiver without a moment’s -hesitation.</p> - -<p>Willoughby Braddock had secured his hat, and he now replaced it in a -sketchy fashion on his head. His face was flushed, and his eyes, always -slightly prominent, seemed to protrude like those of a snail—and an -extremely inebriated snail, at that.</p> - -<p>“Imarraspeesh,” he said.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon?” said Sam.</p> - -<p>“I made a speesh.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, so I heard.”</p> - -<p>“You heard my speesh?”</p> - -<p>“I heard that you had made one.”</p> - -<p>“How did you hear my speesh?” said Mr. Braddock, plainly mystified. “You -weren’t at the dinner.”</p> - -<p>“No, but——”</p> - -<p>“You couldn’t have been at the dinner,” proceeded Mr. Braddock, -reasoning closely, “because evening dress was obliggery and you aren’t -obliggery. I’ll tell you what—between you and me, I don’t know who the -deuce you are.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t know me?”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t know you.”</p> - -<p>“Pull yourself together, Bradder. I’m Sam Shotter.”</p> - -<p>“Sham Sotter?”</p> - -<p>“If you prefer it that way certainly. I’ve always pronounced it Sam -Shotter myself.”</p> - -<p>“Sam Shotter?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_56" id="page_56">{56}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“That’s right.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock eyed him narrowly.</p> - -<p>“Look here,” he said, “I’ll tell you something—something that’ll -interest you—something that’ll interest you very much. You’re Sam -Shotter.”</p> - -<p>“That’s it.”</p> - -<p>“We were at school together.”</p> - -<p>“We were.”</p> - -<p>“The dear old school.”</p> - -<p>“Exactly.”</p> - -<p>Intense delight manifested itself in Mr. Braddock’s face. He seized -Sam’s hand and wrung it warmly.</p> - -<p>“How are you, my dear old chap, how are you?” he cried. “Old Sham -Spotter, by gad! By Jove! By George! My goodness! Fancy that! Well, -good-bye.”</p> - -<p>And with a beaming smile he suddenly swooped across the road and was -lost to sight.</p> - -<p>The stoutest heart may have its black moments. Depression claimed Sam -for its own. There is no agony like that of the man who has intended to -borrow money and finds that he has postponed the request till too late. -With bowed shoulders, he made his way eastward. He turned up Charing -Cross Road, and thence by way of Green Street into Leicester Square. He -moved listlessly along the lower end of the square, and presently, -glancing up, perceived graven upon the wall the words, “Panton Street.”</p> - -<p>He halted. The name seemed somehow familiar. Then he remembered. The -Angry Cheese, that haunt of wealth and fashion to which those fellows, -Bates and Tresidder, had been going, was in Panton Street.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_57" id="page_57">{57}</a></span></p> - -<p>Hope revived in Sam. An instant before, the iron had seemed to have -entered his soul, but now he squared his shoulder and quickened his -steps. Good old Bates! Splendid old Tresidder! They were the men to help -him out of this mess.</p> - -<p>He saw clearly now how mistaken can be the callow judgments which we -form when young. As an immature lad at school, he had looked upon Bates -and Tresidder with a jaundiced eye. He had summed them up in his mind, -after the hasty fashion of youth, as ticks and blisters. Aye, and even -when he had encountered them half an hour ago after the lapse of years, -their true nobility had not been made plain to him. It was only now, as -he padded along Panton Street like a leopard on the trail, that he -realised what excellent fellows they were and how fond he was of them. -They were great chaps—corkers, both of them. And when he remembered -that with a boy’s blindness to his sterling qualities he had once given -Bates six of the juiciest with a walking stick, he burned with remorse -and shame.</p> - -<p>It was not difficult to find the Angry Cheese. About this newest of -London’s night-clubs there was nothing coy or reticent. Its doorway -stood open to the street, and cabs were drawing up in a constant stream -and discharging fair women and well-tailored men. Furthermore, to render -identification easy for the very dullest, there stood on the pavement -outside a vast commissionaire, brilliantly attired in the full-dress -uniform of a Czecho-Slovakian field-marshal and wearing on his head a -peaked cap circled by a red band,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_58" id="page_58">{58}</a></span> which bore in large letters of gold -the words “Angry Cheese.”</p> - -<p>“Good evening,” said Sam, curvetting buoyantly up to this spectacular -person. “I want to speak to Mr. Bates.”</p> - -<p>The field-marshal eyed him distantly. The man, one would have said, was -not in sympathy with him. Sam could not imagine why. With the prospect -of a loan in sight, he himself was liking everybody.</p> - -<p>“Misteroo?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Bates.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Yates?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Bates. Mr. Bates. You know Mr. Bates?” said Sam. And such was the -stimulating rhythm of the melody into which the unseen orchestra had -just burst that he very nearly added, “He’s a bear, he’s a bear, he’s a -bear.”</p> - -<p>“Bates?”</p> - -<p>“Or Tresidder.”</p> - -<p>“Make up your mind,” said the field-marshal petulantly.</p> - -<p>At this moment, on the opposite side of the street, there appeared the -figure of Mr. Willoughby Braddock, walking with extraordinary swiftness. -His eyes were staring straight in front of him. He had lost his hat.</p> - -<p>“Bradder!” cried Sam.</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock looked over his shoulder, waved his hand, smiled a smile of -piercing sweetness and passed rapidly into the night.</p> - -<p>Sam was in a state of indecision similar to that of the dog in the -celebrated substance-and-shadow fable.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_59" id="page_59">{59}</a></span> Should he pursue this -will-o’-the-wisp, or should he stick to the sound Conservative policy of -touching the man on the spot? What would Napoleon have done?</p> - -<p>He decided to remain.</p> - -<p>“Fellow who was at school with me,” he remarked explanatorily.</p> - -<p>“Ho!” said the field-marshal, looking like a stuffed sergeant-major.</p> - -<p>“And now,” said Sam, “can I see Mr. Bates?”</p> - -<p>“You cannot.”</p> - -<p>“But he’s in there.”</p> - -<p>“And you’re out ’ere,” said the field-marshal.</p> - -<p>He moved away to assist a young lady of gay exterior to alight from a -taxicab. And as he did so, someone spoke from the steps.</p> - -<p>“Ah, there you are!”</p> - -<p>Sam looked up, relieved. Dear old Bates was standing in the lighted -doorway.</p> - -<p>Of the four persons who made up the little group collected about the -threshold of the Angry Cheese, three now spoke simultaneously.</p> - -<p>Dear old Bates said, “This is topping! Thought you weren’t coming.”</p> - -<p>The lady said, “Awfully sorry I’m late, old cork.”</p> - -<p>Sam said, “Oh, Bates.”</p> - -<p>He was standing some little space removed from the main body when he -spoke, and the words did not register. The lady passed on into the -building. Bates was preparing to follow her, when Sam spoke again. And -this time nobody within any reasonable radius could have failed to hear -him.</p> - -<p>“Hi, Bates!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_60" id="page_60">{60}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Hey!” said the field-marshal, massaging his ear with a look of reproach -and dislike.</p> - -<p>Bates turned, and as he saw Sam, there spread itself over his face the -startled look of one who, wandering gayly along some primrose path, sees -gaping before him a frightful chasm or a fearful serpent or some -menacing lion in the undergrowth. In this crisis, Claude Bates did not -hesitate. With a single backward spring—which, if he could have -remembered it and reproduced it later on the dancing floor, would have -made him the admired of all—he disappeared, leaving Sam staring blankly -after him.</p> - -<p>A large fat hand, placed in no cordial spirit on his shoulder, awoke Sam -from his reverie. The field-marshal was gazing at him with a loathing -which he now made no attempt to conceal.</p> - -<p>“You ’op it,” said the field-marshal. “We don’t want none of your sort -’ere.”</p> - -<p>“But I was at school with him,” stammered Sam. The thing had been so -sudden that even now he could not completely realise that what -practically amounted to his own flesh and blood had thrown him down -cold.</p> - -<p>“At school with ’im too, was you?” said the field-marshal. “The only -school you was ever at was Borstal. You ’op it, and quick. That’s what -you do, before I call a policeman.”</p> - -<p>Inside the night-club, Claude Bates, restoring his nervous system with a -whisky and soda, was relating to his friend Tresidder the tale of his -narrow escape.</p> - -<p>“Absolutely lurking on the steps!” said Bates.</p> - -<p>“Ghastly!” said Tresidder.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_61" id="page_61">{61}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>CHAPTER FIVE<br /><br /> -<small>PAINFUL AFFAIR AT A COFFEE-STALL</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">L</span>ONDON was very quiet. A stillness had fallen upon it, broken only by -the rattle of an occasional cab and the footsteps of some home-seeking -wayfarer. The lamplight shone on glistening streets, on pensive -policemen, on smoothly prowling cats, and on a young man in a shocking -suit of clothes whose faith in human nature was at zero.</p> - -<p>Sam had now no definite objective. He was merely walking aimlessly with -the idea of killing time. He wandered on, and presently found that he -had passed out of the haunts of fashion into a meaner neighbourhood. The -buildings had become dingier, the aspect of the perambulating cats more -sinister and blackguardly. He had in fact reached the district which, in -spite of the efforts of its inhabitants to get it called Lower -Belgravia, is still known as Pimlico. And it was near the beginning of -Lupus Street that he was roused from his meditations by the sight of a -coffee-stall.</p> - -<p>It brought him up standing. Once more he had suddenly become aware of -that gnawing hunger which had afflicted him outside the oyster -restaurant. Why he should be hungry, seeing that not so many hours ago -he had consumed an ample dinner, he could not have<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_62" id="page_62">{62}</a></span> said. A -psychologist, had one been present, would have told him that the pangs -of starvation from which he supposed himself to suffer were purely a -figment of the mind, and that it was merely his subconscious self -reacting to the suggestion of food. Sam, however, had positive inside -information to the contrary; and he halted before the coffee-stall, -staring wolfishly.</p> - -<p>There was not a large attendance of patrons. Three only were present. -One was a man in a sort of uniform who seemed to have been cleaning -streets, the two others had the appearance of being gentlemen of -leisure. They were leaning restfully on the counter, eating hard-boiled -eggs.</p> - -<p>Sam eyed them resentfully. It was just this selfish sort of -epicureanism, he felt, that was the canker which destroyed empires. And -when the man in uniform, wearying of eggs, actually went on to -supplement them with a slice of seedcake, it was as if he were watching -the orgies that preceded the fall of Babylon. With gleaming eyes he drew -a step closer, and was thus enabled to overhear the conversation of -these sybarites.</p> - -<p>Like all patrons of coffee-stalls, they were talking about the Royal -family, and for a brief space it seemed that a perfect harmony was to -prevail. Then the man in uniform committed himself to the statement that -the Duke of York wore a moustache, and the gentlemen of leisure united -to form a solid opposition.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>E ain’t got no moustache,” said one.</p> - -<p>“Cert’n’ly ’e ain’t got no moustache,” said the other.</p> - -<p>“Wot,” inquired the first gentleman of leisure,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_63" id="page_63">{63}</a></span> “made you get that -silly idea into your ’ead that ’e’s got a moustache?”</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>E’s got a smorl clipped moustache,” said the man in uniform stoutly.</p> - -<p>“A smorl clipped moustache?”</p> - -<p>“A smorl clipped moustache.”</p> - -<p>“You say he’s got a smorl clipped moustache?”</p> - -<p>“Ah! A smorl clipped moustache.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then,” said the leader of the opposition, with the air of a -cross-examining counsel who has dexterously trapped a reluctant witness -into a damaging admission, “that’s where you make your ruddy error. -Because ’e ain’t got no smorl clipped moustache.”</p> - -<p>It seemed to Sam that a little adroit diplomacy at this point would be -in his best interests. He had not the pleasure of the duke’s -acquaintance and so was not really entitled to speak as an expert, but -he decided to support the man in uniform. The good graces of a fellow of -his careless opulence were worth seeking. In a soaring moment of -optimism it seemed to him that a hard-boiled egg and a cup of coffee -were the smallest reward a loyal supporter might expect. He advanced -into the light of the naphtha flare and spoke with decision.</p> - -<p>“This gentleman is right,” he said. “The Duke of York has a small -clipped moustache.”</p> - -<p>The interruption appeared to come on the three debaters like a -bombshell. It had on them an effect much the same as an uninvited -opinion from a young and newly joined member would have on a group of -bishops and generals in the smoking-room of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_64" id="page_64">{64}</a></span> Athenæum Club. For an -instant there was a shocked silence; then the man in uniform spoke.</p> - -<p>“Wot do you want, stickin’ your ugly fat ’ead in?” he demanded coldly.</p> - -<p>Shakespeare, who knew too much ever to be surprised at man’s -ingratitude, would probably have accepted this latest evidence of it -with stoicism. It absolutely stunned Sam. A little peevishness from the -two gentlemen of leisure he had expected, but that his sympathy and -support should be received in this fashion by the man in uniform was -simply disintegrating. It seemed to be his fate to-night to lack appeal -for men in uniform.</p> - -<p>“Yus,” agreed the leader of the opposition, “<span class="lftspc">’</span>oo arsked you to shove -in?”</p> - -<p>“Comin’ stickin’ ’is ’ead in!” sniffed the man in uniform.</p> - -<p>All three members of the supper party eyed him with manifest disfavour. -The proprietor of the stall, a silent hairy man, said nothing: but he, -too, cast a chilly glance of hauteur in Sam’s direction. There was a -sense of strain.</p> - -<p>“I only said——” Sam began.</p> - -<p>“And ’oo arsked you to?” retorted the man in uniform.</p> - -<p>The situation was becoming difficult. At this tense moment, however, -there was a rattling and a grinding of brakes and a taxicab drew up at -the kerb, and out of its interior shot Mr. Willoughby Braddock.</p> - -<p>“Getta cuppa coffee,” observed Mr. Braddock explanatorily to the -universe.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_65" id="page_65">{65}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>CHAPTER SIX<br /><br /> -<small>A FRIEND IN NEED</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">O</span>F certain supreme moments in life it is not easy to write. The workaday -teller of tales, whose gifts, if any, lie rather in the direction of -recording events than of analysing emotion, finds himself baffled by -them. To say that Sam Shotter was relieved by this sudden reappearance -of his old friend would obviously be inadequate. Yet it is hard to find -words that will effectually meet the case. Perhaps it is simplest to say -that his feelings at this juncture were to all intents and purposes -those of the garrison besieged by savages in the final reel of a -motion-picture super-super-film when the operator flashes on the screen -the subtitle, “Hurrah! Here come the United States Marines!”</p> - -<p>And blended with this heart-shaking thankfulness, came instantaneously -the thought that he must not let the poor fish get away again.</p> - -<p>“Here, I say!” said Mr. Braddock, becoming aware of a clutching hand -upon his coat sleeve.</p> - -<p>“It’s all right, Bradder, old man,” said Sam. “It’s only me.”</p> - -<p>“Who?”</p> - -<p>“Me.”</p> - -<p>“Who are you?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_66" id="page_66">{66}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Sam Shotter.”</p> - -<p>“Sam Shotter?”</p> - -<p>“Sam Shotter.”</p> - -<p>“Sam Shotter who used to be at school with me?”</p> - -<p>“The very same.”</p> - -<p>“Are you Sam Shotter?”</p> - -<p>“I am.”</p> - -<p>“Why, so you are!” said Mr. Braddock, completely convinced. He displayed -the utmost delight at this re-union. “Mosestraornary coincidence,” he -said as he kneaded Sam lovingly about the shoulder. “I was talking to a -fellow in the Strand about you only an hour ago.”</p> - -<p>“Were you, Bradder, old man?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; nasty ugly-looking fellow. I bumped into him, and he turned round -and the very first thing he said was, ‘Do you know Sam Shotter?’ He told -me all sorts of interesting things about you too—all sorts of -interesting things. I’ve forgotten what they were, but you see what I -mean.”</p> - -<p>“I follow you perfectly, Bradder. What’s become of your hat?”</p> - -<p>A look of relieved happiness came in to Willoughby Braddock’s face.</p> - -<p>“Have you got my hat? Where is it?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t got your hat.”</p> - -<p>“You said you had my hat.”</p> - -<p>“No, I didn’t.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” said Mr. Braddock, disappointed. “Well, then, come and have a -cuppa coffee.”</p> - -<p>It was with the feelings of a voyager who after much buffeting comes -safely at last to journey’s end<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_67" id="page_67">{67}</a></span> that Sam ranged himself alongside the -counter which for so long had been but a promised land seen from some -distant Mount Pisgah. The two gentlemen of leisure had melted away into -the night, but the uniformed man remained, eating seedcake with a touch -of bravado.</p> - -<p>“This gentleman a friend of yours, Sam?” asked Mr. Braddock, having -ordered coffee and eggs.</p> - -<p>“I should say not,” said Sam with aversion. “Why, he thinks the Duke of -York has a small clipped moustache!”</p> - -<p>“No!” said Mr. Braddock, shocked.</p> - -<p>“He does.”</p> - -<p>“Man must be a thorough ass.”</p> - -<p>“Dropped on his head when a baby, probably.”</p> - -<p>“Better have nothing to do with him,” said Mr. Braddock in a -confidential bellow.</p> - -<p>The meal proceeded on its delightful course. Sam had always been fond of -Willoughby Braddock, and the spacious manner in which he now ordered -further hard-boiled eggs showed him that his youthful affection had not -been misplaced. A gentle glow began to steal over him. The coffee was -the kind of which, after a preliminary mouthful, you drink a little more -just to see if it is really as bad as it seemed at first, but it was -warm and comforting. It was not long before the world appeared very good -to Sam. He expanded genially. He listened with courteous attention to -Mr. Braddock’s lengthy description of his speech at the Old Wrykynian -dinner, and even melted sufficiently to extend an olive branch to the -man in uniform.</p> - -<p>“Looks like rain,” he said affably.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_68" id="page_68">{68}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Who does?” asked Mr. Braddock, puzzled.</p> - -<p>“I was addressing the gentleman behind you,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock looked cautiously over his shoulder.</p> - -<p>“But are we speaking to him?” he asked gravely. “I thought——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said Sam tolerantly. “I fancy he’s quite a good fellow -really. Wants knowing, that’s all.”</p> - -<p>“What makes you think he looks like rain?” asked Mr. Braddock, -interested.</p> - -<p>The chauffeur of the taxicab now added himself to their little group. He -said that he did not know about Mr. Braddock’s plans, but that he -himself was desirous of getting to bed. Mr. Braddock patted him on the -shoulder with radiant bonhomie.</p> - -<p>“This,” he explained to Sam, “is a most delightful chap. I’ve forgotten -his name.”</p> - -<p>The cabman said his name was Evans.</p> - -<p>“Evans! Of course. I knew it was something beginning with a G. This is -my friend Evans, Sam. I forget where we met, but he’s taking me home.”</p> - -<p>“Where do you live, Bradder?”</p> - -<p>“Where do I live, Evans?”</p> - -<p>“Down at Valley Fields, you told me,” said the cabman.</p> - -<p>“Where are you living, Sam?”</p> - -<p>“Nowhere.”</p> - -<p>“How do you mean—nowhere?”</p> - -<p>“I have no home,” said Sam with simple pathos.</p> - -<p>“I’d like to dig you one,” said the man in uniform.</p> - -<p>“No home?” cried Mr. Braddock, deeply moved. “Nowhere to sleep to-night, -do you mean? I say, look<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_69" id="page_69">{69}</a></span> here, you must absolutely come back with me. -Evans, old chap, do you think there would be room for one more in that -cab of yours? Because I particularly want this gentleman to come back -with me. My dear old Sam, I won’t listen to any argument.”</p> - -<p>“You won’t have to.”</p> - -<p>“You can sleep on the sofa in the drawing-room. You ready, Evans, old -man? Splendid! Then let’s go.”</p> - -<p>From Lupus Street, Pimlico, to Burberry Road, Valley Fields, is a -distance of several miles, but to Sam the drive seemed a short one. This -illusion was not due so much to the gripping nature of Mr. Braddock’s -conversation, though that rippled on continuously, as to the fact that, -being a trifle weary after his experiences of the night, he dozed off -shortly after they had crossed the river. He awoke to find that the cab -had come to a standstill outside a wooden gate which led by a short -gravel path to a stucco-covered house. A street lamp, shining feebly, -was strong enough to light up the name San Rafael. Mr. Braddock paid the -cabman and ushered Sam through the gate. He produced a key after a -little searching, and having mounted the steps opened the door. Sam -found himself in a small hall, dimly lighted by a turned-down jet of -gas.</p> - -<p>“Go right in,” said Mr. Braddock. “I’ll be back in a moment. Got to see -a man.”</p> - -<p>“Got to what?” said Sam, surprised.</p> - -<p>“Got to see a man for a minute. Fellow named Evans, who was at school -with me. Most important.”</p> - -<p>And with that curious snipelike abruptness which<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_70" id="page_70">{70}</a></span> characterised his -movements to-night, Willoughby Braddock slammed the front door violently -and disappeared.</p> - -<p>Sam’s feelings, as the result of his host’s impulsive departure, were -somewhat mixed. To the credit side of the ledger he could place the fact -that he was safely under the shelter of a roof, which he had not -expected to be an hour ago; but he wished that, before leaving, his -friend had given him a clew as to where was situated this drawing-room -with its sofa whereon he was to spend the remainder of the night.</p> - -<p>However, a brief exploration would no doubt reveal the hidden chamber. -It might even be that room whose door faced him across the hall.</p> - -<p>He was turning the handle with the view of testing this theory, when a -voice behind him, speaking softly but with a startling abruptness, said, -“Hands up!”</p> - -<p>At the foot of the stairs, her wide mouth set in a determined line, her -tow-coloured hair adorned with gleaming curling pins, there was standing -a young woman in a pink dressing gown and slippers. In her right hand, -pointed at his head, she held a revolver.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_71" id="page_71">{71}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>CHAPTER SEVEN<br /><br /> -<small>SAM AT SAN RAFAEL</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span>T is not given to every girl who makes prophecies to find those -prophecies fulfilled within a few short hours of their utterance; and -the emotions of Claire Lippett, as she confronted Sam in the hall of San -Rafael, were akin to those of one who sees the long shot romp in ahead -of the field or who unexpectedly solves the cross-word puzzle. Only that -evening she had predicted that burglars would invade the house, and here -one was, as large as life. Mixed, therefore, with her disapproval of -this midnight marauder, was a feeling almost of gratitude to him for -being there. Of fear she felt no trace. She presented the pistol with a -firm hand.</p> - -<p>One calls it a pistol for the sake of technical accuracy. To Sam’s -startled senses it appeared like a young cannon, and so deeply did he -feel regarding it that he made it the subject of his opening -remark—which, by all the laws of etiquette, should have been a graceful -apology for and explanation of his intrusion.</p> - -<p>“Steady with the howitzer!” he urged.</p> - -<p>“What say?” said Claire coldly.</p> - -<p>“The lethal weapon—be careful with it. It’s pointing at me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_72" id="page_72">{72}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“I know it’s pointing at you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, so long as it only points,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>He felt a good deal reassured by the level firmness of her tone. This -was plainly not one of those neurotic, fluttering females whose fingers -cannot safely be permitted within a foot of a pistol trigger.</p> - -<p>There was a pause. Claire, still keeping the weapon poised, turned the -gas up. Upon which, Sam, rightly feeling that the ball of conversation -should be set rolling by himself, spoke again.</p> - -<p>“You are doubtless surprised,” he said, plagiarising the literary style -of Mr. Todhunter, “to see me here.”</p> - -<p>“No, I’m not.”</p> - -<p>“You’re not?”</p> - -<p>“No. You keep those hands of yours up.”</p> - -<p>Sam sighed.</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t speak to me in that harsh tone,” he said, “if you knew all -I had been through. It is not too much to say that I have been -persecuted this night.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you shouldn’t come breaking into people’s houses,” said Claire -primly.</p> - -<p>“You are labouring under a natural error,” said Sam. “I did not break -into this charming little house. My presence, Mrs. Braddock, strange as -it may seem, is easily explained.”</p> - -<p>“Who are you calling Mrs. Braddock?”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you Mrs. Braddock?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“You aren’t married to Mr. Braddock?”</p> - -<p>“No, I’m not.”</p> - -<p>Sam was a broad-minded young man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_73" id="page_73">{73}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Ah, well,” he said, “in the sight of God, no doubt——”</p> - -<p>“I’m the cook.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” said Sam, relieved, “that explains it.”</p> - -<p>“Explains what?”</p> - -<p>“Well, you know, it seemed a trifle odd for a moment that you should be -popping about here at this time of night with your hair in curlers and -your little white ankles peeping out from under a dressing gown.”</p> - -<p>“Coo!” said Claire in a modest flutter. She performed a swift adjustment -of the garment’s folds.</p> - -<p>“But if you’re Mr. Braddock’s cook——”</p> - -<p>“Who said I was Mr. Braddock’s cook?”</p> - -<p>“You did.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t any such thing. I’m Mr. Wrenn’s cook.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. who?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Wrenn.”</p> - -<p>This was a complication which Sam had not anticipated.</p> - -<p>“Let us get this thing straight,” he said. “Am I to understand that this -house does not belong to Mr. Braddock?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you are. It belongs to Mr. Wrenn.”</p> - -<p>“But Mr. Braddock had a latchkey.”</p> - -<p>“He’s staying here.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean—ah?”</p> - -<p>“I intended to convey that things are not so bad as I thought they were. -I was afraid for a moment that I had got into the wrong house. But it’s -all right. You see, I met Mr. Braddock a short while ago and he brought -me back here to spend the night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_74" id="page_74">{74}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Oh?” said Claire. “Did he? Ho! Oh, indeed?”</p> - -<p>Sam looked at her anxiously. He did not like her manner.</p> - -<p>“You believe me, don’t you?”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t.”</p> - -<p>“But surely——”</p> - -<p>“If Mr. Braddock brought you here, where is he?”</p> - -<p>“He went away. He was, I regret to say, quite considerably squiffed. -Immediately after letting me in he dashed off, banging the door behind -him.”</p> - -<p>“Likely!”</p> - -<p>“But listen, my dear little girl——”</p> - -<p>“Less of it!” said Claire austerely. “It’s a bit thick if a girl can’t -catch a burglar without having him start to flirt with her.”</p> - -<p>“You wrong me!” said Sam. “You wrong me! I was only saying——”</p> - -<p>“Well, don’t.”</p> - -<p>“But this is absurd. Good heavens, use your intelligence! If my story -wasn’t true, how could I know anything about Mr. Braddock?”</p> - -<p>“You could easily have asked around. What I say is if you were all right -you wouldn’t be going about in a suit of clothes like that. You look -like a tramp.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ve just come off a tramp steamer. You mustn’t go judging people -by appearance. I should have thought they would have taught you that at -school.”</p> - -<p>“Never you mind what they taught me at school.”</p> - -<p>“You have got me all wrong. I’m a millionaire—or rather my uncle is.”</p> - -<p>“Mine’s the Shah of Persia.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_75" id="page_75">{75}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“And a few weeks ago he sent me over to England, the idea being that I -was to sail on the <i>Mauretania</i>. But that would have involved sharing a -suite with a certain Lord Tilbury and the scheme didn’t appeal to me. So -I missed the ship and came over on a cargo boat instead.”</p> - -<p>He paused. He had an uncomfortable feeling that the story sounded thin. -He passed it in a swift review before his mind. Yes, thin.</p> - -<p>And it was quite plain from her expression that the resolute young lady -before him shared this opinion.</p> - -<p>She wrinkled her small nose skeptically, and, having finished wrinkling -it, sniffed.</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe a word of it,” she said.</p> - -<p>“I was afraid you wouldn’t,” said Sam. “True though it is, it has a -phony ring. Really to digest that story, you have to know Lord Tilbury. -If you had the doubtful pleasure of the acquaintance of that king of -bores, you would see that I acted in the only possible way. However, if -it’s too much for you, let it go, and we will approach the matter from a -new angle. The whole trouble seems to be my clothes, so I will make you -a sporting offer. Overlook them for the moment, give me your womanly -trust and allow me to sleep on the drawing-room sofa for the rest of the -night, and not only will blessings reward you but I promise you—right -here and now—that in a day or two I will call at this house and let you -see me in the niftiest rig-out that ever man wore. Imagine it! A -brand-new suit, custom-made, silk serge linings, hand-sewed, scallops on -the pocket flaps—and me inside! Is it a bet?”</p> - -<p>“No, it isn’t.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_76" id="page_76">{76}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Think well! When you first see that suit you will say to yourself that -the coat doesn’t seem to sit exactly right. You will be correct. The -coat will not sit exactly right. And why? Because there will be in the -side pocket a large box of the very finest mixed chocolates, a present -for a good girl. Come now! The use of the drawing-room for the few -remaining hours of the night. It is not much to ask.”</p> - -<p>Claire shook her head inflexibly.</p> - -<p>“I’m not going to risk it,” she said. “By rights I ought to march you -out into the street and hand you over to the policeman.”</p> - -<p>“And have him see you in curling pins? No, no!”</p> - -<p>“What’s wrong with my curling pins?” demanded Claire fiercely.</p> - -<p>“Nothing, nothing,” said Sam hastily. “I admire them. It only occurred -to me as a passing thought——”</p> - -<p>“The reason I don’t do it is because I’m tender-hearted and don’t want -to be too hard on a feller.”</p> - -<p>“It is a spirit I appreciate,” said Sam. “And would that there had been -more of it abroad in London this night.”</p> - -<p>“So out you go, and don’t let me hear no more of you. Just buzz off, -that’s all I ask. And be quick about it, because I need my sleep.”</p> - -<p>“I was wrong about those chocolates,” said Sam. “Silly mistake to make. -What will really be in that side pocket will be a lovely diamond -brooch.”</p> - -<p>“And a motor car and a ruby ring and a new dress and a house in the -country, I suppose. Outside!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_77" id="page_77">{77}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Sam accepted defeat. The manly spirit of the Shotters was considerable, -but it could be broken.</p> - -<p>“Oh, all right, I’ll go. One of these days, when my limousine splashes -you with mud, you will be sorry for this.”</p> - -<p>“And don’t bang the door behind you,” ordered the ruthless girl.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_78" id="page_78">{78}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>CHAPTER EIGHT<br /><br /> -<small>SAM AT MON REPOS</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">S</span>TANDING on the steps and gazing out into the blackness, Sam now -perceived that in the interval between his entrance into San Rafael and -his exit therefrom, the night, in addition to being black, had become -wet. A fine rain had begun to fall, complicating the situation to no -small extent.</p> - -<p>For some minutes he remained where he was, hoping for Mr. Braddock’s -return. But the moments passed and no sound of footsteps, however -distant, broke the stillness; so, after going through a brief -commination service in which the names of Hash Todhunter, Claude Bates -and Willoughby Braddock were prominently featured, he decided to make a -move. And it was as he came down from the steps on to the little strip -of gravel that he saw a board leaning drunkenly towards him a few paces -to his left, and read on that board the words “To Let, Furnished.”</p> - -<p>This opened up an entirely new train of thought. It revealed to him what -he had not previously suspected, that the house outside which he stood -was not one house but two houses. It suggested, moreover, that the one -to which the board alluded was unoccupied, and the effect of this was -extraordinarily stimulating.</p> - -<p>He hurried along the gravel; and rounding the angle<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_79" id="page_79">{79}</a></span> of the building, -saw dimly through the darkness a structure attached to its side which -looked like a conservatory. He bolted in; and with a pleasant feeling of -having circumvented Fate, sat down on a wooden shelf intended as a -resting place for potted geraniums.</p> - -<p>But Fate is not so easily outmanœuvred. Fate, for its own inscrutable -reasons, had decided that Sam was to be thoroughly persecuted to-night, -and it took up the attack again without delay. There was a sharp -cracking sound and the wooden shelf collapsed in ruin. Sam had many -excellent qualities, but he did not in the least resemble a potted -geranium, and he went through the woodwork as if it had been paper. And -Fate, which observes no rules of the ring and has no hesitation about -hitting a man when he is down, immediately proceeded to pour water down -his neck through a hole in the broken roof.</p> - -<p>Sam rose painfully. He saw now that he had been mistaken in supposing -that this conservatory was a home from home. He turned up his coat -collar and strode wrathfully out into the darkness. He went round to the -back of the house with the object of ascertaining if there was an -outside coal cellar where a man might achieve dryness, if not positive -comfort. And it was as he stumbled along that he saw the open window.</p> - -<p>It was a sight which in the blackness of the night he might well have -missed; but suffering had sharpened his senses, and he saw it -plainly—an open window only a few feet above the ground. Until this -moment the idea of actually breaking into the house had not occurred to -him; but now, regardless of all the laws<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_80" id="page_80">{80}</a></span> which discourage such -behaviour, he put his hand on the sill and scrambled through. The rain, -as if furious at the escape of its prey, came lashing down like a shower -bath.</p> - -<p>Sam moved carefully on. Groping his way, he found himself at the foot of -a flight of stairs. He climbed these cautiously and became aware of -doors to left and right.</p> - -<p>The room to the right was empty, but the other one contained a bed. It -was a bed, however, that had been reduced to such a mere scenario that -he decided to leave it and try his luck downstairs. The board outside -had said “To Let, Furnished,” which suggested the possibility of a -drawing-room sofa. He left the room and started to walk down the stairs.</p> - -<p>At first, as he began the descent, the regions below had been in -complete darkness. But now a little beam of light suddenly pierced the -gloom—a light that might have been that of an electric torch. It was -wavering uncertainly, as if whoever was behind it was in the grip of a -strong emotion of some kind.</p> - -<p>Sam also was in the grip of a strong emotion. He stopped and held his -breath. For the space of some seconds there was silence. Then he -breathed again.</p> - -<p>Perfect control of the breathing apparatus is hard to acquire. Singers -spend years learning it. Sam’s skill in that direction was rudimentary. -It had been his intention to let his present supply of breath gently out -and then, very cautiously, to take another supply gently in. Instead of -which, he gave vent to a sound so loud and mournful that it made his -flesh creep. It was half a snort and half a groan, and it echoed<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_81" id="page_81">{81}</a></span> -through the empty house like a voice from the tomb.</p> - -<p>This, he felt, was the end. Further concealment was obviously out of the -question. Dully resentful of the curse that seemed to be on him -to-night, he stood waiting for the inevitable challenge from below.</p> - -<p>No challenge came. Instead, there was a sharp clatter of feet, followed -by a distant scrabbling sound. The man behind the torch had made a rapid -exit through the open window.</p> - -<p>For a moment Sam stood perplexed. Then the reasonable explanation came -to him. It was no caretaker who had stood there, but an intruder with as -little right to be on the premises as he himself. And having reached -this conclusion, he gave no further thought to the matter. He was -feeling extraordinarily sleepy now and speculations as to the identity -of burglars had no interest for him. His mind was occupied entirely by -the question of whether or not there was a sofa in the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>There was, and a reasonably comfortable sofa too. Sam had reached the -stage where he could have slept on spikes, and this sofa seemed to him -as inviting as the last word in beds, with all the latest modern springs -and box mattresses. He lay down and sleep poured over him like a healing -wave.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_82" id="page_82">{82}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>CHAPTER NINE<br /><br /> -<small>BREAKFAST FOR ONE</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span>T was broad daylight when he woke. Splashes of sunlight were on the -floor, and outside a cart clattered cheerfully. Rising stiffly, he was -aware of a crick in the neck and of that unpleasant sensation of -semi-suffocation which comes to those who spend the night in a disused -room with the windows closed. More even than a bath and a shave, he -desired fresh air. He made his way down the passage to the window by -which he had entered. Outside, glimpses of a garden were visible. He -climbed through and drew a deep breath.</p> - -<p>The rain of the night had left the world sweet and clean. The ragged -grass was all jewelled in the sunshine, and birds were singing in the -trees. Sam stood drinking in the freshness of it all, feeling better -every instant.</p> - -<p>Finally, having performed a few of those bending and stretching -exercises which form such an admirable corrective to the effects of a -disturbed night, he strolled down the garden path, wishing he could -somehow and at no very distant date connect with a little breakfast.</p> - -<p>“For goodness sake!”</p> - -<p>He looked up. Over the fence which divided the garden from the one next -door a familiar face was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_83" id="page_83">{83}</a></span> peering. It was his hostess of last night. -But, whereas then she had been curling-pinned and dressing-gowned, she -was now neatly clad in print and wore on her head a becoming cap. Her -face, moreover, which had been hard and hostile, was softened by a -friendly grin.</p> - -<p>“Good morning,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>“How did you get there?”</p> - -<p>“When you turned me out into the night,” said Sam reproachfully, “I took -refuge next door.”</p> - -<p>“I say, I’m sorry about that,” said the girl remorsefully. “But how was -I to know that you were telling the truth?” She giggled happily. “Mr. -Braddock came back half an hour after you had left. He made such a rare -old row that I came down again——”</p> - -<p>“And shot him, I hope. No? A mistake, I think.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, he asked where you were. He said your name was Evans.”</p> - -<p>“He was a little confused. My name is Shotter. I warned you that he was -not quite himself. What became of him then?”</p> - -<p>“He went up to bed. I’ve just taken him up a tray, but all he did was to -look at it and moan and shut his eyes again. I say, have you had any -breakfast?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t torture me.”</p> - -<p>“Well, hop over the fence then. I’ll get you some in two ticks.”</p> - -<p>Sam hopped. The sun seemed very bright now, and the birds were singing -with a singular sweetness.</p> - -<p>“Would it also run to a shave and a bath?” he asked, as they walked -toward the house.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_84" id="page_84">{84}</a></span></p> - -<p>“You’ll find Mr. Wrenn’s shaving things in the bathroom.”</p> - -<p>“Is this heaven?” said Sam. “Shall I also find Mr. Wrenn by any chance?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, him and Miss Kay have been gone half an hour.”</p> - -<p>“Excellent! Where is this bathroom?”</p> - -<p>“Up those stairs, first door to the left. When you come down, go into -that room there, and I’ll bring the tray in. It’s the drawing-room, but -the dining-room table isn’t cleared yet.”</p> - -<p>“I shall enjoy seeing your drawing-room, of which I have heard so much.”</p> - -<p>“Do you like eggs?”</p> - -<p>“I do—and plenty of them. Also bacon—a good deal of bacon. Oh, and by -the way——” added Sam, leaning over the banisters.</p> - -<p>“Yes?”</p> - -<p>“——toast—lots and lots of toast.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll get you all you can eat.”</p> - -<p>“You will? Tell me,” said Sam, “it has been puzzling me greatly. How do -you manage to get that dress on over your wings?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_85" id="page_85">{85}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>CHAPTER TEN<br /><br /> -<small>SAM FINDS A PHOTOGRAPH</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">S</span>AM, when he came downstairs some twenty minutes later, was definitely -in what Mr. Hash Todhunter would have described as the pink. The night -had been bad, but joy had certainly come in the morning. The sight of -the breakfast tray on a small table by the window set the seal on his -mood of well-being; and for a long, luxurious space he had eyes for -nothing else. It was only after he had consumed the eggs, the bacon, the -toast, the coffee and the marmalade that he yielded to what is usually -the first impulse of a man who finds himself in a strange room and began -to explore.</p> - -<p>It was some half minute later that Claire Lippett, clearing the -dining-room table, was startled to the extent of dropping a butter dish -by a loud shout or cry that seemed to proceed from the room where she -had left her guest.</p> - -<p>Hurrying thither, she found him behaving in a strange manner. He was -pointing at a photograph on the mantelpiece and gesticulating wildly.</p> - -<p>“Who’s that?” he cried as she entered. He seemed to have difficulty with -his vocal cords.</p> - -<p>“Eh?”</p> - -<p>“Who the devil’s that?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_86" id="page_86">{86}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Language!”</p> - -<p>“Who is it? That girl—who is she? What’s her name?”</p> - -<p>“You needn’t shout,” said Claire, annoyed.</p> - -<p>The photograph which had so excited this young man was the large one -that stood in the centre of the mantelpiece. It represented a girl in -hunting costume, standing beside her horse, and it was Claire’s -favourite. A dashing and vigorous duster, with an impressive record of -smashed china and broken glass to her name, she always handled this -particular work of art with a gentle tenderness.</p> - -<p>“That?” she said. “Why, that’s Miss Kay, of course.”</p> - -<p>She came forward and flicked a speck of dust off the glass.</p> - -<p>“Taken at Midways, that was,” she said, “two or three years ago, before -the old colonel lost his money. I was Miss Kay’s maid then—personal -maid,” she added with pride. She regarded the photograph wistfully, for -it stood to her for all the pomps and glories of a vanished yesterday, -for the brave days when there had been horses and hunting costumes and -old red chimneys against a blue sky and rabbits in the park and sunlight -on the lake and all the rest of the things that made up Midways and -prosperity. “I remember the day that photograph was took. It was printed -in the papers, that photograph was.”</p> - -<p>Sam continued to be feverish.</p> - -<p>“Miss Kay? Who’s Miss Kay?”</p> - -<p>“Miss Kay Derrick, Mr. Wrenn’s niece.”</p> - -<p>“The man who lives here, do you mean?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_87" id="page_87">{87}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Yes. He gave Miss Kay a home when everything went smash. That’s how I -come to be here. I could have stopped at Midways if I’d of liked,” she -said. “The new people who took the place would have kept me on if I’d of -wanted. But I said, ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m going with Miss Kay,’ I said. -‘I’m not going to desert her in her mis-for-chewn,’ I said.”</p> - -<p>Sam started violently.</p> - -<p>“You don’t mean—you can’t mean—you don’t mean she lives here?”</p> - -<p>“Of course she does.”</p> - -<p>“Not actually lives here—not in this very house?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly.”</p> - -<p>“My gosh!”</p> - -<p>Sam quivered from head to foot. A stupendous idea had come to him.</p> - -<p>“My gosh!” he cried again, with bulging eyes. Then, with no more -words—for it was a time not for words but for action—he bounded from -the room.</p> - -<p>To leap out of the front door and clatter down the steps to the board -which stood against the fence was with Sam the work of a moment. Beneath -the large letters of the To Let, Furnished, he now perceived other -smaller letters informing all who might be interested that applications -for the tenancy of that desirable semi-detached residence, Mon Repos, -should be made to Messrs. Matters & Cornelius, House Agents, of Ogilvy -Street, Valley Fields, S. E. He galloped up the steps again and beat -wildly upon the door.</p> - -<p>“Now what?” inquired Claire.</p> - -<p>“Where is Ogilvy Street?”</p> - -<p>“Up the road, first turning to the left.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_88" id="page_88">{88}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Thanks.”</p> - -<p>“You’re welcome.”</p> - -<p>Out on the gravel, he paused, pondered and returned.</p> - -<p>“Back again?” said Claire.</p> - -<p>“Did you say left or right?”</p> - -<p>“Left.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t mention it,” said Claire.</p> - -<p>This time Sam performed the descent of the steps in a single leap. But -reaching the gate, he was struck by a thought.</p> - -<p>“Fond of exercise, aren’t you?” said Claire patiently.</p> - -<p>“Suddenly occurred to me,” explained Sam, “that I’d got no money.”</p> - -<p>“What do you want me to do about it?”</p> - -<p>“These house-agent people would expect a bit of money down in advance, -wouldn’t they?”</p> - -<p>“Sounds possible. Are you going to take a house?”</p> - -<p>“I’m going to take Mon Repos,” said Sam. “And I must have money. Where’s -Mr. Braddock?”</p> - -<p>“In bed.”</p> - -<p>“Where’s his room?”</p> - -<p>“Top floor back.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks.”</p> - -<p>“Dee-lighted,” said Claire.</p> - -<p>Her statement that the guest of the house was in bed proved accurate. -Sam, entering the apartment indicated, found his old school friend lying -on his back with open mouth and matted hair. He was snoring -rhythmically. On a chair at his side stood a tray containing a teapot, -toast and a cold poached egg of such<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_89" id="page_89">{89}</a></span> raffish and leering aspect that -Sam, moving swiftly to the dressing table, averted his eyes as he -passed.</p> - -<p>The dressing table presented an altogether more pleasing picture. Heaped -beside Mr. Braddock’s collar box and hair-brushes was a small mountain -of notes and silver—a fascinating spectacle with the morning sunshine -playing on them. With twitching fingers, Sam scooped them up; and -finding pencil and paper, paused for a moment, seeking for words.</p> - -<p>It is foolish to attempt to improve on the style of a master. Hash -Todhunter had shown himself in a class of his own at this kind of -literary composition, and Sam was content to take him as a model. He -wrote:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Bradder</span>: You will doubtless be surprised to learn that I have -borrowed your money. I will return it in God’s good time. -Meanwhile, as Sir Philip Sidney said to the wounded soldier, my -need is greater than yours.</p> - -<p>“Trusting this finds you in the pink,</p> - -<p class="c"> -“Yrs. Obedtly,<br /><span style="margin-left: 20%;"> -“<span class="smcap">S. Shotter</span>.”</span><br /> -</p></div> - -<p>Then, having propped the note against the collar box, he left the room.</p> - -<p>A sense of something omitted, some little kindly act forgotten, arrested -him at the head of the stairs. He returned; and taking the poached egg, -placed it gently on the pillow beside his friend’s head. This done, he -went downstairs again, and so out on the broad trail that led to the -premises of Messrs. Matters & Cornelius, House Agents, of Ogilvy -Street.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_90" id="page_90">{90}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>CHAPTER ELEVEN<br /><br /> -<small>SAM BECOMES A HOUSEHOLDER</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">W</span>HAT Mr. Matters would have thought of Sam as he charged breezily into -the office a few minutes later we shall never know, for Mr. Matters died -in the year 1910. Mr. Cornelius thought him perfectly foul. After one -swift, appraising stare through his gold-rimmed spectacles, he went so -far as to share this opinion with his visitor.</p> - -<p>“I never give to beggars,” he said. He was a venerable old man with a -white beard and bushy eyebrows, and he spoke with something of the -intonation of a druid priest chanting at the altar previous to sticking -the knife into the human sacrifice. “I do not believe in indiscriminate -charity.”</p> - -<p>“I will fill in your confession book some other time,” said Sam. “For -the moment, let us speak of houses. I want to take Mon Repos in Burberry -Road.”</p> - -<p>The druid was about to recite that ancient rune which consists of the -solemn invocation to a policeman, when he observed with considerable -surprise that his young visitor was spraying currency in great -quantities over the table. He gulped. It was unusual for clients at his -office to conduct business transactions in a manner more suitable to the -Bagdad of the <i>Arabian Nights</i> than a respectable modern suburb. He -could<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_91" id="page_91">{91}</a></span> hardly have been more surprised if camels laden with jewels and -spices had paraded down Ogilvy Street.</p> - -<p>“What is all this?” he asked, blinking.</p> - -<p>“Money,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>“Where did you get it?”</p> - -<p>He eyed Sam askance. And Sam, who, as the heady result of a bath, shave, -breakfast and the possession of cash, had once more forgotten that there -was anything noticeable about his appearance, gathered that here was -another of the long line of critics who had failed to recognise his true -worth at first sight.</p> - -<p>“Do not judge me by the outer crust,” he said. “I am shabby because I -have been through much. When I stepped aboard the boat at New York I was -as natty a looking young fellow as you could wish to see. People nudged -one another as I passed along the pier and said, ‘Who is he?’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“You come from America?”</p> - -<p>“From America.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said Mr. Cornelius, as if that explained everything.</p> - -<p>“My uncle,” said Sam, sensing the change in the atmosphere and pursuing -his advantage, “is Mr. John B. Pynsent, the well-to-do millionaire of -whom you have doubtless heard.... You haven’t? One of our greatest -captains of industry. He made a vast fortune in fur.”</p> - -<p>“In fur? Really?”</p> - -<p>“Got the concession for providing the snakes at the Bronx Zoo with -earmuffs, and from that moment never looked back.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_92" id="page_92">{92}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“You surprise me,” said Mr. Cornelius. “Most interesting.”</p> - -<p>“A romance of commerce,” agreed Sam. “And now, returning to this matter -of the house——”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes,” said Mr. Cornelius. His voice, as he eyed the money on the -table, was soft and gentle. He still looked like a druid priest, but a -druid priest on his afternoon off. “For how long a period did you wish -to rent Mon Repos, Mr.—er——”</p> - -<p>“Shotter is the name.... Indefinitely.”</p> - -<p>“Shall we say three months rent in advance?”</p> - -<p>“Let us say just those very words.”</p> - -<p>“And as to references——”</p> - -<p>Sam was on the point of giving Mr. Wrenn’s name, until he recollected -that he had not yet met that gentleman. Using his shaving brush and -razor and eating food from his larder seemed to bring them very close -together. He reflected.</p> - -<p>“Lord Tilbury,” he said. “That’s the baby.”</p> - -<p>“Lord Tilbury, of the Mammoth Publishing Company?” said Mr. Cornelius, -plainly awed. “Do you know him?”</p> - -<p>“Know him? We’re more like brothers than anything. There’s precious -little Lord Tilbury ever does without consulting me. It might be a good -idea to call him up on the phone now. I ought to let him know that I’ve -arrived.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Cornelius turned to the telephone, succeeded after an interval in -getting the number, and after speaking with various unseen underlings, -tottered reverently as he found himself talking to the great man in -person. He handed the instrument to Sam.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_93" id="page_93">{93}</a></span></p> - -<p>“His Lordship would like to speak to you, Mr. Shotter.”</p> - -<p>“I knew it, I knew it,” said Sam. “Hello! Lord Tilbury? This is Sam. How -are you? I’ve just arrived. I came over in a tramp steamer, and I’ve -been having all sorts of adventures. Give you a good laugh. I’m down at -Valley Fields at the moment, taking a house. I’ve given your name as a -reference. You don’t mind? Splendid! Lunch? Delighted. I’ll be along as -soon as I can. Got to get a new suit first. I slept in my clothes last -night.... Well, good-bye. It’s all right about the references,” he said, -turning to Mr. Cornelius. “Carry on.”</p> - -<p>“I will draw up the lease immediately, Mr. Shotter. If you will tell me -where I am to send it——”</p> - -<p>“Send it?” said Sam surprised. “Why, to Mon Repos, of course.”</p> - -<p>“But——”</p> - -<p>“Can’t I move in at once?”</p> - -<p>“I suppose so, if you wish it. But I fancy the house is hardly ready for -immediate tenancy. You will need linen.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right. A couple of hours shopping will fix that.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Cornelius smiled indulgently. He was thoroughly pro-Sam by now.</p> - -<p>“True American hustle,” he observed, waggling his white beard. “Well, I -see no objection, if you make a point of it. I will find the key for -you. Tell me, Mr. Shotter,” he asked as he rummaged about in drawers, -“what has caused this great desire on your part to settle in Valley -Fields? Of course, as a patriotic inhabitant,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_94" id="page_94">{94}</a></span> I ought not to be -surprised. I have lived in Valley Fields all my life, and would not live -anywhere else if you offered me a million pounds.”</p> - -<p>“I won’t.”</p> - -<p>“I was born in Valley Fields, Mr. Shotter, and I love the place, and I -am not ashamed to say so.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Breathes there the man with soul so dead,’<span class="lftspc">”</span> inquired Mr. Cornelius, -“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose -heart hath ne’er within him burned as home his footsteps he hath turn’d -from wandering on a foreign strand?’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“Ah!” said Sam. “That’s what we’d all like to know, wouldn’t we?”</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>If such there breathe,’<span class="lftspc">”</span> proceeded Mr. Cornelius, “<span class="lftspc">‘</span>go mark him well! -For him no minstrel raptures swell. High though his titles, proud his -name, boundless his wealth as wish can claim, despite those titles, -power, and pelf, the wretch, concentred all in self——’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“I have a luncheon engagement at 1:30,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>——Living, shall forfeit fair renown, and, doubly dying, shall go -down to the vile dust from whence he sprung, unwept, unhonour’d and -unsung.’ Those words, Mr. Shotter——”</p> - -<p>“A little thing of your own?”</p> - -<p>“Those words, Mr. Shotter, will appear on the title page of the history -of Valley Fields, which I am compiling—a history dealing not only with -its historical associations, which are numerous, but also with those -aspects of its life which my occupation as house agent has given me -peculiar opportunities of examining. I get some queer clients, Mr. -Shotter.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_95" id="page_95">{95}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Sam was on the point of saying that the clients got a queer house agent, -thus making the thing symmetrical, but he refrained.</p> - -<p>“It may interest you to know that a very well-known criminal, a man who -might be described as a second Charles Peace, once resided in the very -house which you are renting.”</p> - -<p>“I shall raise the tone.”</p> - -<p>“Like Charles Peace, he was a most respectable man to all outward -appearances. His name was Finglass. Nobody seems to have had any -suspicion of his real character until the police, acting on information -received, endeavoured to arrest him for the perpetration of a great bank -robbery.”</p> - -<p>“Catch him?” said Sam, only faintly interested.</p> - -<p>“No; he escaped and fled the country. But I was asking you what made you -settle on Valley Fields as a place of residence. You would seem to have -made up your mind very quickly.”</p> - -<p>“Well, the fact is, I happened to catch sight of my next-door -neighbours, and it struck me that they would be pleasant people to live -near.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Cornelius nodded.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Wrenn is greatly respected by all who know him.”</p> - -<p>“I liked his razor,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>“If you are going to Tilbury House it is possible that you may meet him. -He is the editor of Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Is that so?” said Sam. “Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i>, eh?”</p> - -<p>“I take it in regularly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_96" id="page_96">{96}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“And Mr. Wrenn’s niece? A charming girl, I thought.”</p> - -<p>“I scarcely know her,” said Mr. Cornelius indifferently. “Young women do -not interest me.”</p> - -<p>The proverb about casting pearls before swine occurred to Sam.</p> - -<p>“I must be going,” he said coldly. “Speed up that lease, will you. And -if anyone else blows in and wants to take the house, bat them over the -head with the office ruler.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Wrenn and I frequently play a game of chess together,” said Mr. -Cornelius.</p> - -<p>Sam was not interested in his senile diversions.</p> - -<p>“Good morning,” he said stiffly, and passed out into Ogilvy Street.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_97" id="page_97">{97}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>CHAPTER TWELVE<br /><br /> -<small>SAM IS MUCH TOO SUDDEN</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p class="c"><span class="letra">T</span>HE clocks of London were striking twelve when Sam, entering the Strand, -turned to the left and made his way toward Fleet Street to keep his -tryst with Lord Tilbury at the offices of the Mammoth Publishing -Company.</p> - -<p>In the interval which had elapsed since his parting from Mr. Cornelius a -striking change had taken place in his appearance, for he had paid a -visit to that fascinating shop near Covent Garden which displays on its -door the legend, “Cohen Bros., Ready-Made Clothiers,” and is the Mecca -of all who prefer to pluck their garments ripe off the bough instead of -waiting for them to grow. The kindly brethren had fitted him out with a -tweed suit of bold pattern, a shirt of quality, underclothing, socks, a -collar, sock suspenders, a handkerchief, a tie pin and a hat with the -same swift and unemotional efficiency with which, had he desired it, -they would have provided the full costume of an Arctic explorer, a duke -about to visit Buckingham Palace, or a big-game hunter bound for Eastern -Africa. Nor had they failed him in the matter of new shoes and a -wanghee. It was, in short, an edition de luxe of S.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_98" id="page_98">{98}</a></span> Pynsent Shotter, -richly bound and profusely illustrated, that now presented itself to the -notice of the public.</p> - -<p>The tonic of new clothes is recognised by all students of human nature. -Sam walked with a springy jauntiness, and his gay bearing, combined with -the brightness of his exterior, drew many eyes upon him.</p> - -<p>Two of these eyes belonged to a lean and stringy man of mournful -countenance who was moving in the opposite direction, away from London’s -newspaper land. For a moment they rested upon Sam in a stare that had -something of dislike in it, as if their owner resented the intrusion -upon his notice of so much cheerfulness. Then they suddenly widened into -a stare of horror, and the man stopped, spellbound. A hurrying -pedestrian, bumping into him from behind, propelled him forward, and -Sam, coming up at four miles an hour, bumped into him in front. The -result of the collision was a complicated embrace, from which Sam was -extricating himself with apologies when he perceived that this person -with whom he had become entangled was no stranger, but an old friend.</p> - -<p>“Hash!” he cried.</p> - -<p>There was nothing in Mr. Todhunter’s aspect to indicate pleasure at the -encounter. He breathed heavily and spoke no word.</p> - -<p>“Hash, you old devil!” said Sam joyfully.</p> - -<p>Mr. Todhunter licked his lips uncomfortably. He cast a swift glance over -his shoulder, as if debating the practicability of a dive into the -traffic. He endeavoured, without success, to loosen the grip of Sam’s -hand on his coat sleeve.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_99" id="page_99">{99}</a></span></p> - -<p>“What are you wriggling for?” asked Sam, becoming aware of this.</p> - -<p>“I’m not wriggling,” said Hash. He spoke huskily and in a tone that -seemed timidly ingratiating. If the voice of Mr. Cornelius had resembled -a druid priest’s, Clarence Todhunter’s might have been likened to that -of the victim on the altar. “I’m not wriggling, Sam. What would I want -to wriggle for?”</p> - -<p>“Where did you spring from, Hash?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Todhunter coughed.</p> - -<p>“I was just coming from leaving a note for you, Sam, at that place -Tilbury House, where you told me you’d be.”</p> - -<p>“You’re a great letter writer, aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>The allusion was not lost upon Mr. Todhunter. He gulped and his -breathing became almost stertorous.</p> - -<p>“I want to explain about that, Sam,” he said. “Explain, if I may use the -term, fully. Sam,” said Mr. Todhunter thickly, “what I say and what I -always have said is, when there’s been a little misunderstanding between -pals—pals, if I may use the expression, what have stood together side -by side through thick and through thin—pals what have shared and shared -alike——” He broke off. He was not a man of acute sensibility, but he -could see that the phrase, in the circumstances, was an unhappy one. -“What I say is, Sam, when it’s like that—well, there’s nothing like -letting bygones be bygones and, so to speak, burying the dead past. As a -man of the world, you bein’ one and me bein’ another——”</p> - -<p>“I take it,” said Sam, “from a certain something in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100">{100}</a></span> your manner, that -that moth-eaten whippet of yours did not win his race.”</p> - -<p>“Sam,” said Mr. Todhunter, “I will not conceal it from you. I will be -frank, open and above board. That whippet did not win.”</p> - -<p>“Your money then—and mine—is now going to support some bookie in the -style to which he has been accustomed?”</p> - -<p>“It’s gorn, Sam,” admitted Mr. Todhunter in a deathbed voice. “Yes, Sam, -it’s gorn.”</p> - -<p>“Then come and have a drink,” said Sam cordially.</p> - -<p>“A drink?”</p> - -<p>“Or two.”</p> - -<p>He led the way to a hostelry that lurked coyly among shops and office -buildings. Hash followed, marvelling. The first stunned horror had -passed, and his mind, such as it was, was wrestling with the insoluble -problem of why Sam, with the facts of the whippet disaster plainly -before him, was so astoundingly amiable.</p> - -<p>The hour being early even for a perpetually thirsty community like that -of Fleet Street, the saloon bar into which they made their way was free -from the crowds which would have interfered with a quiet chat between -friends. Two men who looked like printers were drinking beer in a -corner, while at the counter a haughty barmaid was mixing a cocktail for -a solitary reveller in a velours hat. This individual had just made a -remark about the weather in a rich and attractive voice, and his -intonation was so unmistakably American that Sam glanced at him as he -passed; and, glancing, half stopped, arrested by something strangely -familiar about the man’s face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101">{101}</a></span></p> - -<p>It was not a face which anyone would be likely to forget if they had -seen it often; and the fact that it brought no memories back to him -inclined Sam to think that he could never have met this rather -striking-looking person, but must have seen him somewhere on the street -or in a hotel lobby. He was a handsome, open-faced man of middle-age.</p> - -<p>“I’ve seen that fellow before somewhere,” he said, as he sat with Hash -at a table by the window.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Ave you?” said Hash, and there was such a manifest lack of interest in -his tone that Sam, surprised at his curtness, awoke to the realisation -that he had not yet ordered refreshment. He repaired the omission and -Hash’s drawn face relaxed.</p> - -<p>“Hash,” said Sam, “I owe you a lot.”</p> - -<p>“Me?” said Hash blankly.</p> - -<p>“Yes. You remember that photograph I showed you?”</p> - -<p>“The girl—Nimrod?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Hash, I’ve found her, and purely owing to you. If you hadn’t taken -that money it would never have happened.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Todhunter, though he was far from understanding, endeavoured to -assume a simper of modest altruism. He listened attentively while Sam -related the events of the night.</p> - -<p>“And I’ve taken the house next door,” concluded Sam, “and I move in -to-day. So, if you want a shore job, the post of cook in the Shotter -household is open. How about it?”</p> - -<p>A sort of spasm passed across Hash’s wooden features.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102">{102}</a></span></p> - -<p>“You want me to come and cook?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve got to get a cook somewhere. Can you leave the ship?”</p> - -<p>“Can I leave the ship? Mister, you watch and see how quick I can leave -that ruddy ocean-going steam kettle! I’ve been wanting a shore job ever -since I was cloth-head enough to go to sea.”</p> - -<p>“You surprise me,” said Sam. “I have always looked on you as one of -those tough old salts who can’t be happy away from deep waters. I -thought you sang chanteys in your sleep. Well, that’s splendid. You had -better go straight down to the house and start getting things fixed up. -Here’s the key. Write the address down—Mon Repos, Burberry Road, Valley -Fields.”</p> - -<p>A sharp crash rang through the room. The man at the bar, who had -finished his cocktail and was drinking a whisky and soda, had dropped -his glass.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Ere!” exclaimed the barmaid, startled, a large hand on the left side -of her silken bosom.</p> - -<p>The man paid no attention to her cry. He was staring with marked -agitation at Sam and his companion.</p> - -<p>“How do I get there?” asked Hash.</p> - -<p>“By train or bus—there’s any number of ways.”</p> - -<p>“And I can go straight into the house?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; I’ve taken it from this morning.”</p> - -<p>Sam hurried out. Hash, pausing to write down the address, became aware -that he was being spoken to.</p> - -<p>“Say, pardon me,” said the fine-looking man who was clutching at his -sleeve. “Might I have a word with you, brother?”</p> - -<p>“Well?” said Hash suspiciously. The last time an<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103">{103}</a></span> American had addressed -him as brother it had cost him eleven dollars and seventy-five cents.</p> - -<p>“Did I understand your pal who’s gone out to say that he had rented a -house named Mon Repos down in Valley Fields?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you did. What of it?”</p> - -<p>The man did not reply. Consternation was writ upon his face, and he -passed a hand feebly across his broad forehead. The silence was broken -by the cold voice of the barmaid.</p> - -<p>“That’ll be threepence I’ll kindly ask you for, for that glass,” said -the barmaid. “And if,” she added with asperity, “you ’ad to pay for the -shock you give me, it ’ud cost you a tenner.”</p> - -<p>“Girlie,” replied the man sadly, watching Hash as he shambled through -the doorway, “you aren’t the only one that’s had a shock.”</p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p>While Sam was walking down Fleet Street on his way to Tilbury House, -thrilled with the joy of existence and swishing the air jovially with -his newly purchased wanghee, in Tilbury House itself the proprietor of -the Mammoth Publishing Company was pacing the floor of his private -office, his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, his eyes staring -bleakly before him.</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury was a short, stout, commanding-looking man, and practically -everything he did had in it something of the Napoleonic quality. His -demeanour now suggested Napoleon in captivity, striding the deck of the -<i>Bellerophon</i> with vultures gnawing at his breast.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104">{104}</a></span></p> - -<p>So striking was his attitude that his sister, Mrs. Frances Hammond, who -had called to see him, as was her habit when business took her into the -neighbourhood of Tilbury House, paused aghast in the doorway, while the -obsequious boy in buttons who was ushering her in frankly lost his nerve -and bolted.</p> - -<p>“Good gracious, Georgie!” she cried. “What’s the matter?”</p> - -<p>His Lordship came to a standstill and something faintly resembling -relief appeared in his square-cut face. Ever since the days when he had -been plain George Pyke, starting in business with a small capital and a -large ambition, his sister Frances had always been a rock of support. It -might be that her advice would help him to cope with the problem which -was vexing him now.</p> - -<p>“Sit down, Francie,” he said. “Thank goodness you’ve come. Just the -person I want to talk to.”</p> - -<p>“What’s wrong?”</p> - -<p>“I’m telling you. You remember that when I was in America I met a man -named Pynsent?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“This man Pynsent was the owner of an island off the coast of Maine.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know. And you——”</p> - -<p>“An island,” continued Lord Tilbury, “densely covered with trees. He -used it merely as a place of retirement, for the purpose of shooting and -fishing; but when he invited me there for a week-end I saw its -commercial possibilities in an instant.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you told me. You——”</p> - -<p>“I said to myself,” proceeded Lord Tilbury, one of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105">{105}</a></span> whose less engaging -peculiarities it was that he never permitted the fact that his audience -was familiar with a story to keep him from telling it again, “I said to -myself, ‘This island, properly developed, could supply all the paper the -Mammoth needs and save me thousands a year!’ It was my intention to buy -the place and start paper mills.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and——”</p> - -<p>“Paper mills,” said Lord Tilbury firmly. “I made an offer to Pynsent. He -shilly-shallied. I increased my offer. Still he would give me no -definite answer. Sometimes he seemed willing to sell, and then he would -change his mind. And then, when I was compelled to leave and return to -England, an idea struck me. He had been talking about his nephew and how -he was anxious for him to settle down and do something——”</p> - -<p>“So you offered to take him over here and employ him in the Mammoth,” -said Mrs. Hammond with a touch of impatience. She loved and revered her -brother, but she could not conceal it from herself that he sometimes -tended to be prolix. “You thought it would put him under an obligation.”</p> - -<p>“Exactly. I imagined I was being shrewd. I supposed that I was -introducing into the affair just that little human touch which sometimes -makes all the difference. Well, it will be a bitter warning to me never -again to be too clever. Half the business deals in this world are ruined -by one side or the other trying to be too clever.”</p> - -<p>“But, George, what has happened? What is wrong?”</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury resumed his patrol of the carpet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106">{106}</a></span></p> - -<p>“I’m telling you. It was all arranged that he should sail back with me -on the <i>Mauretania</i>, but when the vessel left he was nowhere to be -found. And then, about the second day out, I received a wireless message -saying, ‘Sorry not to be with you. Coming <i>Araminta</i>. Love to all.’ I -could not make head or tail of it.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Mrs. Hammond thoughtfully; “it is very puzzling. I think it -may possibly have meant——”</p> - -<p>“I know what it meant—now. The solution,” said Lord Tilbury bitterly, -“was vouchsafed to me only an hour ago by the boy himself.”</p> - -<p>“Has he arrived then?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he has arrived. And he travelled on a tramp steamer.”</p> - -<p>“A tramp steamer! But why?”</p> - -<p>“Why? Why? How should I know why? Last night, he informed me, he slept -in his clothes.”</p> - -<p>“Slept in his clothes? Why?”</p> - -<p>“How should I know why? Who am I to analyse the motives of a boy who -appears to be a perfect imbecile?”</p> - -<p>“But have you seen him?”</p> - -<p>“No. He rang up on the telephone from the office of a house agent in -Valley Fields. He has taken a house there and wished to give my name as -a reference.”</p> - -<p>“Valley Fields? Why Valley Fields?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t keep on saying why,” cried Lord Tilbury tempestuously. “Haven’t I -told you a dozen times that I don’t know why—that I haven’t the least -idea why?”</p> - -<p>“He does seem an eccentric boy.”</p> - -<p>“Eccentric? I feel as if I had allowed myself to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107">{107}</a></span> be saddled with the -guardianship of a dancing dervish. And when I think that if this young -idiot gets into any sort of trouble while he is under my charge, Pynsent -is sure to hold me responsible. I could kick myself for ever having been -fool enough to bring him over here.”</p> - -<p>“You mustn’t blame yourself, Georgie.”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t a question of blaming myself. It’s a question of Pynsent -blaming me and getting annoyed and breaking off the deal about the -island.”</p> - -<p>And Lord Tilbury, having removed his thumbs from the armholes of his -waistcoat in order the more freely to fling them heavenwards, uttered a -complicated sound which might be rendered phonetically by the word -“Cor!” tenser and more dignified than the “Coo!” of the lower-class -Londoner, but expressing much the same meaning.</p> - -<p>In the hushed silence which followed, the buzzer on the desk sounded.</p> - -<p>“Yes? Eh? Oh, send him up.” Lord Tilbury laid down the instrument and -turned to his sister grimly. “Shotter is downstairs,” he said. “Now you -will be able to see him for yourself.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hammond’s first impression when she saw Sam for herself was that -she had been abruptly confronted with something in between a cyclone and -a large Newfoundland puppy dressed in bright tweeds. Sam’s mood of -elation had grown steadily all the way down Fleet Street, and he burst -into the presence of his future employer as if he had just been let off -a chain.</p> - -<p>“Well, how are you?” he cried, seizing Lord Til<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108">{108}</a></span>bury’s hand in a grip -that drew from him a sharp yelp of protest.</p> - -<p>Then, perceiving for the first time the presence of a fair stranger, he -moderated his exuberance somewhat and stared politely.</p> - -<p>“My sister, Mrs. Hammond,” said Lord Tilbury, straightening his fingers.</p> - -<p>Sam bowed. Mrs. Hammond bowed.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps I had better leave you,” said Mrs. Hammond. “You will want to -talk.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t go,” said Sam hospitably.</p> - -<p>“I have business in Lombard Street,” said Mrs. Hammond, discouraging -with a cold look what seemed to her, rightly or wrongly, a disposition -on the part of this young man to do the honours and behave generally as -if he were trying to suggest that Tilbury House was his personal -property but that any relative of Lord Tilbury was welcome there. “I -have to visit my bank.”</p> - -<p>“I shall have to visit mine pretty soon,” said Sam, “or the wolf will be -scratching at the door.”</p> - -<p>“If you are short of funds——” began Lord Tilbury.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m all right for the present, thanks. I pinched close on fifty -pounds from a man this morning.”</p> - -<p>“You did what?” said Lord Tilbury blankly.</p> - -<p>“Pinched fifty pounds. Surprising he should have had so much on him. But -lucky—for me.”</p> - -<p>“Did he make any objection to your remarkable behaviour?”</p> - -<p>“He was asleep at the time, and I didn’t wake him. I just left a poached -egg on his pillow and came away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109">{109}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury swallowed convulsively and his eye sought that of Mrs. -Hammond in a tortured glare.</p> - -<p>“A poached egg?” he whispered.</p> - -<p>“So that he would find it there when he woke,” explained Sam.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hammond had abandoned her intention of withdrawing and leaving the -two men together for a cosy chat. Georgie, it seemed to her from his -expression, needed a woman’s loving support. Sam appeared to have -affected him like some unpleasant drug, causing starting of the eyes and -twitching of the muscles.</p> - -<p>“It is a pity you missed the <i>Mauretania</i>, Mr. Shotter,” she said. “My -brother had hoped that you would travel with him so that you could have -a good talk about what you were to do when you joined his staff.”</p> - -<p>“Great pity,” said Sam, omitting to point out that it was for that very -reason that he had allowed the <i>Mauretania</i> to depart without him. -“However, it’s all right. I have found my niche.”</p> - -<p>“You have done what?”</p> - -<p>“I have selected my life work.” He pulled out of his pocket a crumpled -paper. “I would like to attach myself to Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i>. I -bought a copy on my way here, and it is the goods. You aren’t reading -the serial by any chance, are you—<i>Hearts Aflame</i>, by Cordelia Blair? A -winner. I only had time to glance at the current instalment, but it was -enough to make me decide to dig up the back numbers at the earliest -possible moment. In case you haven’t read it, it is Leslie Mordyke’s -wedding day, and a veiled woman with a foreign accent has just risen in -the body of the church and forbidden the banns. And,” said<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110">{110}</a></span> Sam warmly, -“I don’t blame her. It appears that years ago——”</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury was making motions of distress, and Mrs. Hammond bent -solicitously, like one at a sick bed, to catch his fevered whisper.</p> - -<p>“My brother,” she announced, “wishes——”</p> - -<p>“——was hoping,” corrected Lord Tilbury.</p> - -<p>“——was hoping,” said Mrs. Hammond, accepting the emendation, “that -you would join the staff of the <i>Daily Record</i> so that you might be -under his personal eye.”</p> - -<p>Sam caught Lord Tilbury’s personal eye, decided that he had no wish to -be under it and shook his head.</p> - -<p>“The <i>Home Companion</i>,” said Lord Tilbury, coming to life, “is a very -minor unit of my group of papers.”</p> - -<p>“Though it has a large circulation,” said Mrs. Hammond loyally.</p> - -<p>“A very large circulation, of course,” said Lord Tilbury; “but it offers -little scope for a young man in your position, anxious to start on a -journalistic career. It is not—how shall I put it?—it is not a vital -paper, not a paper that really matters.”</p> - -<p>“In comparison with my brother’s other papers,” said Mrs. Hammond.</p> - -<p>“In comparison with my other papers, of course.”</p> - -<p>“I think you are wrong,” said Sam. “I cannot imagine a nobler life work -for any man than to help produce Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i>. Talk about -spreading sweetness and light, why, Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i> is the paper -that wrote the words and music. Listen to this; ‘A. M. B. (Brixton). You -ask me for a simple and inexpensive method of curing corns. Get an -ordi<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111">{111}</a></span>nary swede, or turnip, cut and dig out a hole in the top, fill the -hole with common salt and allow to stand till dissolved. Soften the corn -morning and night with this liquid.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“Starting on the reportorial staff of the <i>Daily Record</i>,” said Lord -Tilbury, “you would be in a position——”</p> - -<p>“Just try to realise what that means,” proceeded Sam. “What it amounts -to is that the writer of that paragraph has with a stroke of the pen -made the world a better place. He has brightened a home. Possibly he has -averted serious trouble between man and wife. A. M. B. gets the ordinary -swede, digs out the top, pushes in the salt, and a week later she has -ceased to bully her husband and beat the baby and is a ray of sunshine -about the house—and all through Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i>.”</p> - -<p>“What my brother means——” said Mrs. Hammond.</p> - -<p>“Similarly,” said Sam, “with G. D. H. (Tulse Hill), who wants to know -how to improve the flavour of prunes. You or I would say that the -flavour of prunes was past praying for, that the only thing to do when -cornered by a prune was to set your teeth and get it over with. Not so -Pyke’s——”</p> - -<p>“He means——”</p> - -<p>“——<i>Home Companion.</i> ‘A little vinegar added to stewed prunes,’ says -the writer, ‘greatly improves the flavour. And although it may seem -strange, it causes less sugar to be used.’ What happens? What is the -result? G. D. H.’s husband comes back tired and hungry after a day’s -work. ‘Prunes for dinner again,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112">{112}</a></span> I suppose?’ he says moodily. ‘Yes, -dear,’ replies G. D. H., ‘but of a greatly improved flavour.’ Well, he -doesn’t believe her, of course. He sits down sullenly. Then, as he -deposits the first stone on his plate, a delighted smile comes into his -face. ‘By Jove!’ he cries. ‘The flavour is greatly improved. They still -taste like brown paper soaked in machine oil, but a much superior grade -of brown paper. How did you manage it?’ ‘It was not I, dearest,’ says G. -D. H., ‘but Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i>. Acting on their advice, I added a -little vinegar, with the result that not only is the flavour greatly -improved but, strange though it may seem, I used less sugar.’ ‘Heaven -bless Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i>!’ cries the husband. With your permission -then,” said Sam, “I will go straight to Mr. Wrenn and inform him that I -have come to fight the good fight under his banner. ‘Mr. Wrenn,’ I shall -say——”</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury was perplexed.</p> - -<p>“Do you know Wrenn? How do you know Wrenn?”</p> - -<p>“I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting him, but we are next-door -neighbours. I have taken the house adjoining his. Mon Repos, Burberry -Road, is the address. You can see for yourself how convenient this will -be. Not only shall we toil all day in the office to make Pyke’s <i>Home -Companion</i> more and more of a force among the <i>intelligentsia</i> of Great -Britain but in the evenings, as we till our radishes, I shall look over -the fence and say, ‘Wrenn,’ and Wrenn will say, ‘Yes, Shotter?’ And I -shall say, ‘Wrenn, how would it be to run a series on the eradication of -pimples in canaries?’ ‘Shotter,’ he will reply, dropping his spade in -his en<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113">{113}</a></span>thusiasm, ‘this is genius. ’Twas a lucky day, boy, for the old -<i>Home Companion</i> when you came to us.’ But I am wasting time. I should -be about my business. Good-bye, Mrs. Hammond. Good-bye, Lord Tilbury. -Don’t trouble to come with me. I will find my way.”</p> - -<p>He left the room with the purposeful step of the man of affairs, and -Lord Tilbury uttered a sound which was almost a groan.</p> - -<p>“Insane!” he ejaculated. “Perfectly insane!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hammond, womanlike, was not satisfied with simple explanation.</p> - -<p>“There is something behind this, George!”</p> - -<p>“And I can’t do a thing,” moaned His Lordship, chafing, as your strong -man will, against the bonds of fate. “I simply must humour this boy, or -the first thing I know he will be running off on some idiotic prank and -Pynsent will be sending me cables asking why he has left me.”</p> - -<p>“There is something behind this,” repeated Mrs. Hammond weightily. “It -stands to reason. Even a boy like this young Shotter would not take a -house next door to Mr. Wrenn the moment he landed unless he had some -motive. George, there is a girl at the bottom of this.”</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury underwent a sort of minor convulsion. His eyes bulged and -he grasped the arms of his chair.</p> - -<p>“Good God, Francie! Don’t say that! Pynsent took me aside before I left -and warned me most emphatically to be careful how I allowed this boy to -come in contact with—er—members of the opposite sex.”</p> - -<p>“Girls,” said Mrs. Hammond.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114">{114}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Yes, girls,” said Lord Tilbury, as if pleasantly surprised at this neat -way of putting it. “He said he had had trouble a year or so ago——”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Wrenn must have a daughter,” said Mrs. Hammond, pursuing her train -of thought. “Has Mr. Wrenn a daughter?”</p> - -<p>“How the devil should I know?” demanded His Lordship, not unnaturally -irritated. “I don’t keep in touch with the home life of every man in -this building.”</p> - -<p>“Ring him up and ask him.”</p> - -<p>“I won’t. I don’t want my staff to think I’ve gone off my head. Besides, -you may be quite wrong.”</p> - -<p>“I shall be extremely surprised if I am,” said Mrs. Hammond.</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury sat gazing at her pallidly. He knew that Francie had a -sixth sense in these matters.</p> - -<h3>§ 3</h3> - -<p>At about the moment when Sam entered the luxuriously furnished office of -the Mammoth Publishing Company’s proprietor and chief, in a smaller and -less ornate room in the same building Mr. Matthew Wrenn, all unconscious -of the good fortune about to descend upon him in the shape of the -addition to his staff of a live and go-ahead young assistant, was seated -at his desk, busily engaged in promoting the best interests of that -widely read weekly, Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i>. He was, in fact, correcting -the proofs of an article—ably written, but too long to quote -here—entitled What a Young Girl Can Do in Her Spare Time; Number 3, Bee -Keeping.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115">{115}</a></span></p> - -<p>He was interrupted in this task by the opening of the door, and looking -up, was surprised to see his niece, Kay Derrick.</p> - -<p>“Why, Kay!” said Mr. Wrenn. She had never visited him at his office so -early as this, for Mrs. Winnington-Bates expected her serfs to remain on -duty till at least four o’clock. In her blue eyes, moreover, there was a -strange glitter that made him subtly uneasy. “Why, Kay, what are you -doing here?”</p> - -<p>Kay sat down on the desk. Having ruffled his grizzled hair with an -affectionate hand, she remained for a while in silent meditation.</p> - -<p>“I hate young men!” she observed at length. “Why isn’t everyone nice and -old—I mean elderly, but frightfully well preserved, like you, darling?”</p> - -<p>“Is anything the matter?” asked Mr. Wrenn anxiously.</p> - -<p>“Nothing much. I’ve left Mrs. Bates.”</p> - -<p>“I’m very glad to hear it, my dear. There is no earthly reason why you -should have to waste your time slaving——”</p> - -<p>“You’re worse than Claire,” said Kay, her eyes ceasing to glitter. “You -both conspire to coddle me. I’m young and strong, and I ought to be -earning my living. But,” she went on, tapping his head with her finger -to emphasise her words, “I will not continue in a job which involves -being kissed by worms like Claude Bates. No, no, no, sir!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Wrenn raised a shocked and wrathful face.</p> - -<p>“He kissed you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. You had an article in the <i>Home Companion</i> last week, uncle, -saying what a holy and beautiful thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116">{116}</a></span> the first kiss is. Well, Claude -Bates’ wasn’t. He hadn’t shaved and he was wearing a dressing gown. -Also, he was pallid and greenish, and looked as if he had been out all -night. Anything less beautiful and holy I never saw.”</p> - -<p>“He kissed you! What did you do?”</p> - -<p>“I hit him very hard with a book which I was taking to read to Mrs. -Bates. It was the Rev. Aubrey Jerningham’s <i>Is There a Hell?</i> and I’ll -bet Claude thought there was. Until then I had always rather disliked -Mrs. Bates’ taste in literature, which shows how foolish I was. If she -had preferred magazines, where would I have been? There were about six -hundred pages of Aubrey Jerningham, bound in stiff cloth, and he blacked -Claude’s eye like a scholar and a gentleman. And at that moment in came -Mrs. Bates.”</p> - -<p>“Yes?” said Mr. Wrenn, enthralled.</p> - -<p>“Well, a boy’s best friend is his mother. Have you ever seen one of -those cowboy films where there is trouble in the bar-room? It was like -that. Mrs. Bates started to dismiss me, but I got in first with my -resignation, shooting from the hip, as it were. And then I came away, -and here I am.”</p> - -<p>“The fellow should be horsewhipped,” said Mr. Wrenn, breathing heavily.</p> - -<p>“He isn’t worth bothering about,” said Kay.</p> - -<p>The riot of emotion into which she had been plunged by the addresses of -the unshaven Bates had puzzled her. But now she understood. It was -galling to suppose so monstrous a thing, but the explanation was, she -felt, that there had been condescension in his embrace. If she had been -Miss Derrick of Midways, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117">{117}</a></span> would not have summoned up the nerve to -kiss her in a million years; but his mother’s secretary and companion -had no terror for him. And at the thought a deep thrill of gratitude to -the Rev. Aubrey Jerningham passed through Kay. How many a time, wearied -by his duties about the parish, must that excellent clergyman have been -tempted to scamp his work and shirk the labour of adding that extra -couple of thousand words which just make all the difference to -literature when considered in the light of a missile.</p> - -<p>But he had been strong. He had completed his full six hundred pages and -seen to it that his binding had been heavy and hard and sharp about the -edges. For a moment, as she sat there, the Rev. Aubrey Jerningham seemed -to Kay the one bright spot in a black world.</p> - -<p>She was still meditating upon him when there was a hearty smack on the -door and Sam came in.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, good morning,” he said cheerily.</p> - -<p>And then he saw Kay, and on the instant his eyes widened into a goggling -stare, his mouth fell open, his fingers clutched wildly at nothing, and -he stood there, gaping.</p> - -<p>Kay met his stare with a defiant eye. In her present mood she disliked -all young men, and there seemed nothing about this one to entitle him to -exemption from her loathing. Rather, indeed, the reverse, for his -appearance jarred upon her fastidious taste.</p> - -<p>If the Cohen Bros., of Covent Garden, have a fault, it is that they -sometimes allow their clients to select clothes that are a shade too -prismatic for anyone who is not at the same time purchasing a banjo and -a straw<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118">{118}</a></span> hat with a crimson ribbon. Fittings take place in a dimly lit -interior, with the result that suits destined to make phlegmatic horses -shy in the open street seem in the shop to possess merely a rather -pleasing vivacity. One of these Sam had bought, and it had been a -blunder on his part. If he had intended to sing comic songs from a punt -at Henley Regatta, he would have been suitably, even admirably, attired. -But as a private gentleman he was a little on the bright side. He -looked, in fact, like a bookmaker who won billiard tournaments, and Kay -gazed upon him with repulsion.</p> - -<p>He, on the other hand, gazed at her with a stunned admiration. That -photograph should have prepared him for something notable in the way of -feminine beauty; but it seemed to him, as he raked her with eyes like -small dinner plates, that it had been a libel, an outrage, a gross -caricature. This girl before him was marvellous. Helen of Troy could -have been nothing to her. He loved her shining eyes, unaware that they -shone with loathing. He worshipped her rose-flushed cheeks, not knowing -that they were flushed because he had been staring at her for -thirty-three seconds without blinking and she was growing restive -beneath his gaze.</p> - -<p>Mr. Wrenn was the first to speak.</p> - -<p>“Did you want anything?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“What?” said Sam.</p> - -<p>“Is there anything I can do for you?”</p> - -<p>“Eh?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Wrenn approached the matter from a fresh angle.</p> - -<p>“This is the office of Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i>. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119">{119}</a></span> am Mr. Wrenn, the -editor. Did you wish to see me?”</p> - -<p>“Who?” said Sam.</p> - -<p>At this point Kay turned to the window, and the withdrawal of her eyes -had the effect of releasing Sam from his trance. He became aware that a -grey-haired man, whom he dimly remembered having seen on his entry into -the room some hours before, was addressing him.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon?”</p> - -<p>“You wished to see me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Sam; “yes, yes.”</p> - -<p>“What about?” asked Mr. Wrenn patiently.</p> - -<p>The directness and simplicity of the question seemed to clear Sam’s -head. He recalled now what it was that had brought him here.</p> - -<p>“I’ve come over from America to join the staff of Pyke’s <i>Home -Companion</i>.”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“Lord Tilbury wants me to.”</p> - -<p>“Lord Tilbury?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; I’ve just been seeing him.”</p> - -<p>“But he has said nothing to me about this, Mr.——”</p> - -<p>“——Shotter. No, we only arranged it a moment ago.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Wrenn was a courteous man, and though he was under the impression -that his visitor was raving, he did not show it.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps I had better see Lord Tilbury,” he suggested, rising. “By the -way, my niece, Miss Derrick. Kay, my dear, Mr. Shotter.”</p> - -<p>The departure of the third party and the sudden institution of the -intimacies of a <i>tête-à-tête</i> had the usual<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120">{120}</a></span> effect of producing a -momentary silence. Then Kay moved away from the window and came to the -desk.</p> - -<p>“Did you say you had come from America?” she asked, fiddling with Mr. -Wrenn’s editorial pencil. She had no desire to know, but she supposed -she must engage this person in conversation.</p> - -<p>“From America, yes. Yes, from America.”</p> - -<p>“Is this your first visit to England?” asked Kay, stifling a yawn.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no. I was at school in England.”</p> - -<p>“Really? Where?”</p> - -<p>“At Wrykyn.”</p> - -<p>Kay’s attitude of stiff aloofness relaxed. She became interested.</p> - -<p>“Good gracious! Of course!” She looked upon him quite benevolently. “A -friend of yours was talking to me about you only yesterday—Willoughby -Braddock.”</p> - -<p>“Do you know the Bradder?” gulped Sam, astounded.</p> - -<p>“I’ve known him all my life.”</p> - -<p>A most extraordinary sensation flooded over Sam. It was hard to analyse, -but its effects were thoroughly definite. At the discovery that this -wonderful girl knew the old Bradder and that they could pave the way to -a beautiful friendship by talking about the old Bradder, the office of -Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i> became all at once flooded with brilliant -sunshine. Birds twittered from the ceiling, and blended with their notes -was the soft music of violins and harps.</p> - -<p>“You really know the Bradder?”</p> - -<p>“We were children together.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121">{121}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“What a splendid chap!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he’s a dear.”</p> - -<p>“What a corker!”</p> - -<p>“Yes!”</p> - -<p>“What an egg!”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Tell me, Mr. Shotter,” said Kay wearying of this eulogy, “do you -remember a boy at your school named Bates?”</p> - -<p>Sam’s face darkened. Time had softened the anguish of that moment -outside the Angry Cheese, but the sting still remained.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I do.”</p> - -<p>“Willoughby Braddock told me that you once beat Bates with a walking -stick.”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“A large walking stick?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Did you beat him hard?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, as hard as ever I could lay it in.”</p> - -<p>A little sigh of gratification escaped Kay.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” she said.</p> - -<p>In the course of the foregoing conversation the two had been diminishing -inch by inch the gap which had separated them at its outset, so that -they had come to be standing only a short distance apart; and now, as -she heard those beautiful words, Kay looked up into Sam’s face with a -cordial, congratulatory friendliness which caused him to quiver like a -smitten blanc-mange. Then, while he was still reeling, she smiled. And -it is at this point that the task of setting down the sequence of events -becomes difficult for the historian.</p> - -<p>For, briefly, what happened next was that Sam,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122">{122}</a></span> groping forward in a -bemused fashion and gathering her clumsily into his arms, kissed Kay.</p> - -<h3>§ 4</h3> - -<p>It might, of course, be possible to lay no stress upon this -occurrence—to ignore it and pass. In kissing, as kissing, there is -nothing fundamentally reprehensible. The early Christians used to do it -all the time to everyone they met. But the historian is too conscious of -the raised eyebrows of his audience to attempt this attitude. Some -explanation, he realises, some argument to show why Sam is not to be -condemned out of hand, is imperative.</p> - -<p>In these circumstances the embarrassing nature of the historian’s -position is readily intelligible. Only a short while back he was -inviting the customers to shudder with loathing at the spectacle of -Claude Bates kissing this girl, and now, all in a flash, he finds -himself faced with the task of endeavouring to palliate the behaviour of -Sam Shotter in doing the very same thing.</p> - -<p>Well, he must do the best he can. Let us marshal the facts.</p> - -<p>In the first place, there stood on Mr. Wrenn’s desk, as on every other -editorial desk in Tilbury House, a large framed card bearing the words, -<span class="smcap">Do it Now!</span> Who shall say whether this may not subconsciously have -influenced the young man?</p> - -<p>In the second place, when you have been carrying about a girl’s -photograph in your breast pocket for four months and brooding over it -several times a day with a beating heart, it is difficult for you to -regard<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123">{123}</a></span> that girl, when you eventually meet her, as a perfect stranger.</p> - -<p>And in the third place—and here we approach the very root of the -matter—there was the smile.</p> - -<p>Girls as pretty as Kay Derrick, especially if their faces are by nature -a little grave, should be extremely careful how and when they smile. -There was that about Kay’s face when in repose which, even when she was -merely wondering what trimming to put on a hat, gave strangers the -impression that here was a pure white soul musing wistfully on life’s -sadness. The consequence was that when she smiled it was as if the sun -had suddenly shone out through clouds. Her smile seemed to make the -world on the instant a sweeter and a better place. Policemen, when she -flashed it on them after being told the way somewhere, became of a -sudden gayer, happier policemen and sang as they directed the traffic. -Beggars, receiving it as a supplement to a small donation, perked up -like magic and started to bite the ears of the passers-by with an -abandon that made all the difference. And when they saw that smile, even -babies in their perambulators stopped looking like peevish poached eggs -and became almost human.</p> - -<p>And it was this smile that she had bestowed upon Sam. And Sam, it will -be remembered, had been waiting months and months for it.</p> - -<p>We have made out, we fancy, a pretty good case for Samuel Shotter; and -it was a pity that some kindly person was not present in Mr. Wrenn’s -office at that moment to place these arguments before Kay. For not one -of them occurred to her independently. She could<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124">{124}</a></span> see no excuse whatever -for Sam’s conduct. She had wrenched herself from his grasp and moved to -the other side of the desk, and across this she now regarded him with a -blazing eye. Her fists were clenched and she was breathing quickly. She -had the air of a girl who would have given a year’s pocket money for a -copy of the Rev. Aubrey Jerningham’s <i>Is There a Hell?</i></p> - -<p>Gone was that delightful spirit of comradeship which, when he had been -telling of his boyish dealings with Claude, had made him seem almost a -kindred soul. Gone was that soft sensation of gratitude which had come -to her on his assurance that he had not risked spoiling that repulsive -youth by sparing the rod. All she felt now was that her first -impressions of this young man had been right, and that she had been -mauled and insulted by a black-hearted bounder whose very clothes should -have warned her of his innate despicableness. It seems almost incredible -that anyone should think such a thing of anybody, but it is a fact that -in that instant Kay Derrick looked upon Sam as something even lower in -the graduated scale of human subspecies than Claude Winnington-Bates.</p> - -<p>As for Sam, he was still under the ether.</p> - -<p>Nothing is more difficult for both parties concerned than to know what -to say immediately after an occurrence like this. An agitated silence -was brooding over the room, when the necessity for speech was removed by -the re-entry of Mr. Wrenn.</p> - -<p>Mr. Wrenn was not an observant man. Nor was he sensitive to atmosphere. -He saw nothing unusual in his niece’s aspect, nothing out of the way in -Sam’s.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125">{125}</a></span> The fact that the air inside the office of Pyke’s <i>Home -Companion</i> was quivering with charged emotion escaped his notice -altogether. He addressed Sam genially.</p> - -<p>“It is quite all right, Mr. Shotter. Lord Tilbury wishes you to start -work on the <i>Companion</i> at once.”</p> - -<p>Sam turned to him with the vague stare of the newly awakened -sleepwalker.</p> - -<p>“It will be nice having you in the office,” added Mr. Wrenn amiably. “I -have been short-handed. By the way, Lord Tilbury asked me to send you -along to him at once. He is just going out to lunch.”</p> - -<p>“Lunch?” said Sam.</p> - -<p>“He said you were lunching with him.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said Sam dully.</p> - -<p>Mr. Wrenn watched him shamble out of the room with a benevolent eye.</p> - -<p>“We’ll go and have a bite to eat too, my dear,” he said, removing the -alpaca coat which it was his custom to wear in the office. “Haven’t had -lunch with you since I don’t know when.” He reached for the hook which -held his other coat. “I shall like having this young Shotter in the -office,” he said. “He seems a nice young fellow.”</p> - -<p>“He is the most utterly loathsome creature I have ever met,” said Kay.</p> - -<p>Mr. Wrenn, startled, dropped his hat.</p> - -<p>“Eh? What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Just what I say. He’s horrible.”</p> - -<p>“But, my dear girl, you only met him five minutes ago.”</p> - -<p>“I know.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126">{126}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Mr. Wrenn stooped for his hat and smoothed it with some agitation.</p> - -<p>“This is rather awkward,” he said.</p> - -<p>“What is?”</p> - -<p>“Your feeling like that about young Shotter.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see why. I don’t suppose I shall ever meet him again.”</p> - -<p>“But you will. I don’t see how it can be prevented. Lord Tilbury tells -me that this young man has taken a lease on Mon Repos.”</p> - -<p>“Mon Repos!” Kay clutched at the desk. “You don’t mean Mon Repos next -door to us?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; and it is so difficult to avoid one’s next-door neighbours.”</p> - -<p>Kay’s teeth met with a little click.</p> - -<p>“It can be done,” she said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127">{127}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>CHAPTER THIRTEEN<br /><br /> -<small>INTRODUCING A SYNDICATE</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">A</span>CROSS the way from Tilbury House, next door to the massive annex -containing the offices of <i>Tiny Tots</i>, <i>Sabbath Jottings</i>, <i>British -Girlhood</i>, the <i>Boys’ Adventure Weekly</i> and others of the more recently -established of the Mammoth Publishing Company’s periodicals, there -stands a ramshackle four-storied building of an almost majestic -dinginess, which Lord Tilbury, but for certain regulations having to do -with ancient lights, would have swallowed up years ago, as he had -swallowed the rest of the street.</p> - -<p>The first three floors of this building are occupied by firms of the -pathetic type which cannot conceivably be supposed to do any business, -and yet hang on with dull persistency for decade after decade. Their -windows are dirty and forlorn and most of the lettering outside has been -worn away, so that on the second floor it would appear that trade is -being carried by the Ja—& Sum—r—Rub—Co., while just above, Messrs. -Smith, R-bi-s-n & G——, that mystic firm, are dealing in something -curtly described as c——. It is not until we reach the fourth and final -floor that we find the modern note struck.</p> - -<p>Here the writing is not only clear and golden but, when read, -stimulating to the imagination. It runs:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128">{128}</a></span></p> - -<p class="c"> -<span class="smcap">The Tilbury Detective Agency, Ltd.</span><br /> -J. Sheringham Adair, Mgr.<br /> -Large and Efficient Staff<br /> -</p> - -<p class="nind">and conjures up visions of a suite of rooms filled with hawk-faced men -examining bloodstains through microscopes or poring tensely over the -papers connected with the singular affair of the theft of the -maharajah’s ruby.</p> - -<p>On the morning, however, on which Sam Shotter paid his visit to Tilbury -House, only one man was sitting in the office of the detective agency. -He was a small and weedy individual, clad in a suit brighter even than -the one which Sam had purchased from the Brothers Cohen. And when it is -stated in addition that he wore a waxed moustache and that his -handkerchief, which was of colored silk, filled the air with a noisome -perfume, further evidence is scarcely required to convince the reader -that he is being introduced to a most undesirable character. -Nevertheless, the final damning fact may as well be revealed. It is -this—the man was not looking out of a window.</p> - -<p>Tilbury Street is very narrow and the fourth-floor windows of this -ramshackle building are immediately opposite those of the fourth floor -of Tilbury House. Alexander Twist therefore was in a position, if he -pleased, to gaze through into the private sanctum of the proprietor of -the Mammoth Publishing Company and obtain the spiritual uplift which -could hardly fail to result from the spectacle of that great man at -work. Alone of London’s millions of inhabitants, he had it in his power -to watch Lord Tilbury pacing up and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129">{129}</a></span> down, writing at his desk or -speaking into the dictating device who knows what terrific thoughts.</p> - -<p>Yet he preferred to sit at a table playing solitaire—and, one is -prepared to bet, cheating. One need not, one fancies, say more.</p> - -<p>So absorbed was Mr. Twist in his foolish game that the fact that someone -was knocking on the door did not at first penetrate his senses. It was -only when the person outside, growing impatient, rapped the panel with -some hard object which might have been the handle of a lady’s parasol -that he raised his head with a start. He swept the cards into a drawer, -gave his coat a settling tug and rose alertly. The knock sounded like -business, and Mr. Twist, who was not only J. Sheringham Adair, Mgr., but -the large and efficient staff as well, was not the man to be caught -unprepared.</p> - -<p>“Come in,” he shouted.</p> - -<p>With a quick flick of his hand he scattered a top dressing of -important-looking papers about the table and was bending over these with -a thoughtful frown when the door opened.</p> - -<p>At the sight of his visitor he relaxed the preoccupied austerity of his -demeanour. The new-comer was a girl in the middle twenties, of bold but -at the moment rather sullen good looks. She had the bright hazel eyes -which seldom go with a meek and contrite heart. Her colouring was vivid, -and in the light from the window her hair gleamed with a sheen that was -slightly metallic.</p> - -<p>“Why, hello, Dolly,” said Mr. Twist.</p> - -<p>“Hello,” said the girl moodily.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130">{130}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Haven’t seen you for a year, Dolly. Never knew you were this side at -all. Take a seat.”</p> - -<p>The visitor took a seat.</p> - -<p>“For the love of pop, Chimp,” she said, eying him with a languid -curiosity, “where did you get the fungus?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Twist moved in candid circles, and the soubriquet Chimp—short for -Chimpanzee—by which he was known not only to his intimates but to -police officials in America who would have liked to become more intimate -than they were, had been bestowed upon him at an early stage of his -career in recognition of a certain simian trend which critics affected -to see in the arrangement of his features.</p> - -<p>“Looks good, don’t you think?” he said, stroking his moustache fondly. -It and money were the only things he loved.</p> - -<p>“Anything you say. And I suppose, when you know you may be in the coop -any moment, you like to have all the hair you can while you can.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Twist felt a little wounded. He did not like badinage about his -moustache. He did not like tactless allusions to the coop. And he was -puzzled by the unwonted brusqueness of the girl’s manner. The Dora Gunn -he had known had been a cheery soul, quite unlike this tight-lipped, -sombre-eyed person now before him.</p> - -<p>The girl was looking about her. She seemed perplexed.</p> - -<p>“What’s all this?” she asked, pointing her parasol at the writing on the -window.</p> - -<p>Mr. Twist smiled indulgently and with a certain<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131">{131}</a></span> pride. He was, he -flattered himself, a man of ideas, and this of presenting himself to the -world as a private investigator he considered one of his happiest.</p> - -<p>“Just camouflage,” he said. “Darned useful to have a label. Keeps people -from asking questions.”</p> - -<p>“It won’t keep me from asking questions. That’s what I’ve come for. Say, -Chimp, can you tell the truth without straining a muscle?”</p> - -<p>“You know me, Dolly.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s why I asked. Well, I’ve come to get you to tell me -something. Nobody listening?”</p> - -<p>“Not a soul.”</p> - -<p>“How about the office boy?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t got an office boy. Who do you think I am—Pierpont Morgan?”</p> - -<p>Thus reassured, the girl produced a delicate handkerchief, formerly the -property of Harrod’s Stores and parted from unwittingly by that -establishment.</p> - -<p>“Chimp,” she said, brushing away a tear, “I’m sim’ly miserable.”</p> - -<p>Chimp Twist was not the man to stand idly by while beauty in distress -wept before him. He slid up and was placing a tender arm about her -shoulder, when she jerked herself away.</p> - -<p>“You can tie a can to that stuff,” she said with womanly dignity. “I’d -like you to know I’m married.”</p> - -<p>“Married?”</p> - -<p>“Sure. Day before yesterday—to Soapy Molloy.”</p> - -<p>“Soapy!” Mr. Twist started. “What in the world did you want to marry -that slab of Gorgonzola for?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll ask you kindly, if you wouldn’t mind,” said<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132">{132}</a></span> the girl in a cold -voice, “not to go alluding to my husband as slabs of Gorgonzola.”</p> - -<p>“He is a slab of Gorgonzola.”</p> - -<p>“He is not. Well, anyway, I’m hoping he’s not. It’s what I come here to -find out.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Twist’s mind had returned to the perplexing matter of the marriage.</p> - -<p>“I don’t get this,” he said. “I saw Soapy a couple of weeks back and he -didn’t say he’d even met you.”</p> - -<p>“He hadn’t then. We only run into each other ten days ago. I was walking -up the Haymarket and I catch sight of a feller behind me out of the -corner of my eye, so I faint on him, see?”</p> - -<p>“You’re still in that line, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s what I do best, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>Chimp nodded. Dora Molloy—Fainting Dolly to her friends—was -unquestionably an artist in her particular branch of industry. It was -her practice to swoon in the arms of rich-looking strangers in the -public streets and pick their pockets as they bent to render her -assistance. It takes all sorts to do the world’s work.</p> - -<p>“Well, then I seen it was Soapy, and so we go to lunch and have a nice -chat. I always was strong for that boy, and we were both feeling kind of -lonesome over here in London, so we fix it up. And now I’m sim’ly -miserable.”</p> - -<p>“What,” inquired Mr. Twist, “is biting you?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll tell you. This is what’s happened: Last night this bird -Soapy goes out after supper and doesn’t blow in again till four in the -morning. Four in the morning, I’ll trouble you, and us only married two<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133">{133}</a></span> -days. Well, if he thinks a young bride’s going to stand for that sort of -conduct right plumb spang in the middle of what you might call the -honeymoon, he’s got a second guess due him.”</p> - -<p>“What did you do?” asked Mr. Twist sympathetically, but with a touch of -that rather unctuous complacency which bachelors display at moments like -this.</p> - -<p>“I did plenty. And he tried to alibi himself by pulling a story. That -story the grand jury is now going to investigate and investigate -good.... Chimp, did you ever hear of a man named Finglass?”</p> - -<p>There was that in Mr. Twist’s manner that seemed to suggest that he was -a reluctant witness, but he answered after a brief hesitation.</p> - -<p>“Sure!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you did, eh? Well, who was he then?”</p> - -<p>“He was big,” said Chimp, and there was a note of reverence in his -voice. “One of the very biggest, old Finky was.”</p> - -<p>“How was he big? What did he ever do?”</p> - -<p>“Well, it was before your time and it happened over here, so I guess you -may not have heard of it; but he took a couple of million dollars away -from the New Asiatic Bank.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Molloy was undeniably impressed. The formidable severity of her -manner seemed to waver.</p> - -<p>“Were you and Soapy mixed up with him?”</p> - -<p>“Sure! We were the best pals he had.”</p> - -<p>“Is he alive?”</p> - -<p>“No; he died in Buenos Aires the other day.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Molloy bit her lower lip thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“Say, it’s beginning to look to me like that story of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134">{134}</a></span> Soapy’s was the -goods after all. Listen, Chimp, I’d best tell you the whole thing. When -I give Soapy the razz for staying out all night like the way he done, he -pulled this long spiel about having had a letter from a guy he used to -know named Finglass, written on his deathbed, saying that this guy -Finglass hadn’t been able to get away with the money he’d swiped from -this New Asiatic Bank on account the bulls being after him, and he’d had -to leave the whole entire lot of it behind, hidden in some house down in -the suburbs somewheres. And he told Soapy where the house was, and Soapy -claims that what kep’ him out so late was he’d been searching the house, -trying to locate the stuff. And what I want to know is, was he telling -the truth or was he off somewheres at one of these here now gilded -night-clubs, cutting up with a bunch of janes and doing me wrong?”</p> - -<p>Again Mr. Twist seemed to resent the necessity of acting as a favourable -witness for a man he obviously disliked. He struggled with his feelings -for a space.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it’s true,” he said at length.</p> - -<p>“But listen here. This don’t seem to me to gee up. If this guy Finglass -wanted Soapy to have the money, why did he wait all this time before -telling him about it?”</p> - -<p>“Thought he might find a chance of sneaking back and getting it himself, -of course. But he got into trouble in Argentina almost as soon as he hit -the place, and they stowed him away in the cooler; and he only got out -in time to write the letters and then make his finish.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know all that?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135">{135}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Finky wrote to me too.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, did he? Well, then, here’s another thing that don’t seem to make -sense: When he did finally get round to telling Soap about this money, -why couldn’t he let him know where it was? I mean, why didn’t he say -it’s under the mat or poked up the chimney or something, ’stead of -leaving him hunt for it like he was playing button, button, where’s the -button—or something?”</p> - -<p>“Because,” said Mr. Twist bitterly, “Soapy and me were both pals of his, -and he wanted us to share. And to make sure we should get together he -told Soapy where the house was and me where the stuff was hidden in the -house.”</p> - -<p>“So you’ve only to pool your info’ to bring home the bacon?” cried -Dolly, wide-eyed.</p> - -<p>“That’s all.”</p> - -<p>“Then why in time haven’t you done it?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Twist snorted. It is not easy to classify snorts, but this was one -which would have been recognised immediately by any expert as the snort -despairing, caused by the contemplation of the depths to which human -nature can sink.</p> - -<p>“Because,” he said, “Soapy, the pig-headed stiff, thinks he can -double-cross me and get it alone.”</p> - -<p>“What?” Mrs. Molloy uttered a cry of wifely pride. “Well, isn’t that -bright of my sweet old pieface! I’d never of thought the dear boy would -have had the sense to think up anything like that.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Twist was unable to share her pretty enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>“A lot it’s going to get him!” he said sourly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136">{136}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Two million smackers it’s going to get him,” retorted Dolly.</p> - -<p>“Two million smackers nothing! The stuff’s hidden in a place where he’d -never think of looking in two million years.”</p> - -<p>“You can’t bluff me, Chimp Twist,” said Dolly, gazing at him with the -cold disdain of a princess confronted with a boll weevil. “If he keeps -on looking, it stands to reason——”</p> - -<p>She broke off. The door had opened and a man was entering. He was a -fine, handsome, open-faced man of early middle age. At the sight of this -person Chimp Twist’s eyes narrowed militantly, but Dolly flung herself -into his arms with a remorseful cry.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Soapy, darling! How I misjudged you!”</p> - -<p>The new-comer had had the air of a man weighed down with the maximum -amount of sorrow which a human being can bear. This demonstration, -however, seemed to remove something of the burden.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>S all right, sweetness,” he said, clasping her to his swelling bosom.</p> - -<p>“Was I mean to my angel-face?”</p> - -<p>“There, there, honey lamb!”</p> - -<p>Chimp Twist looked sourly upon this nauseating scene of marital -reconciliation.</p> - -<p>“Ah, cut it out!” he growled.</p> - -<p>“Chimp’s told me everything, baby doll,” proceeded Mrs. Molloy. “I know -all about that money, and you just keep right along, precious, hunting -for it by yourself. I don’t mind how often you stay out nights or how -late you stay out.”</p> - -<p>It was a generous dispensation, for which many<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137">{137}</a></span> husbands would have been -grateful, but Soapy Molloy merely smiled a twisted, tortured smile of -ineffable sadness. He looked like an unsuccessful candidate hearing the -result of a presidential election.</p> - -<p>“It’s all off, honey bunch,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s cold, -petty. We’ll have to let Chimp in on it after all, sweetie-pie. I came -here to put my cards on the table and have a show-down.”</p> - -<p>A quivering silence fell upon the room. Mrs. Molloy was staring at her -husband, aghast. As for Chimp, he was completely bewildered. The theory -that his old comrade had had a change of heart—that his conscience, -putting in some rapid work after getting off to a bad start, had caused -him to regret his intention of double-crossing a friend, was too bizarre -to be tenable. Soapy Molloy was not the sort of man to have changes of -heart. Chimp, in his studies of the motion-picture drama, had once seen -a film where a tough egg had been converted by hearing a church organ, -but he knew Mr. Molloy well enough to be aware that all the organs in -all the churches in London might play in his ear simultaneously without -causing him to do anything more than grumble at the noise.</p> - -<p>“The house has been taken,” said Soapy despondently.</p> - -<p>“Taken? What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Rented.”</p> - -<p>“Rented? When?”</p> - -<p>“I heard this morning. I was in a saloon down Fleet Street way, and two -fellows come in and one of them was telling the other how he’d just -rented this joint.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138">{138}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Chimp Twist uttered a discordant laugh.</p> - -<p>“So that’s what’s come of your darned smooth double-crossing act!” he -said nastily. “Yes, I guess you better had let Chimp in on it. You want -a man with brains now, not a guy that never thought up anything smarter -than gypping suckers with a phony oil stock.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Molloy bowed his head meekly before the blast. His wife was made of -sterner stuff.</p> - -<p>“You talk a lot, don’t you?” she said coldly.</p> - -<p>“And I can do a lot,” retorted Mr. Twist, fingering his waxed moustache. -“So you’d best come clean, Soapy, and have a show-down, like you say. -Where is this joint?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you dare tell him before he tells you where the stuff is!” cried -Mrs. Molloy.</p> - -<p>“Just as you say,” said Chimp carelessly. He scribbled a few words on a -piece of paper and covered them with his hand. “There! Now you write -down your end of it and Dolly can read them both out.”</p> - -<p>“Have you really thought up a scheme?” asked Mr. Molloy humbly.</p> - -<p>“I’ve thought up a dozen.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Molloy wrote in his turn and Dolly picked up the two papers.</p> - -<p>“In the cistern!” she read.</p> - -<p>“And the rest of it?” inquired Mr. Twist pressingly.</p> - -<p>“Mon Repos, Burberry Road,” said Mr. Molloy.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said Chimp. “And if I’d known that a week ago, we’d have been -worth a million dollars apiece by now.”</p> - -<p>“Say, listen,” said Dolly, who was pensive and had<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139">{139}</a></span> begun to eye Mr. -Twist in rather an unpleasant manner. “This stuff old Finglass swiped -from the bank, what is it?”</p> - -<p>“American bearer securities, sweetie,” said her husband, rolling the -words round his tongue as if they were vintage port. “As good as dollar -bills. What’s the dope you’ve thought up, Chimpie?” he asked, -deferentially removing a piece of fluff from his ally’s coat sleeve.</p> - -<p>“Just a minute!” said Dolly sharply. “If that’s so, how can this stuff -be in any cistern? It would have melted, being all that time in the -water.”</p> - -<p>“It’s in a waterproof case, of course,” said Chimp.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it is, is it?”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter, petty?” inquired Mr. Molloy. “You’re acting -strange.”</p> - -<p>“Am I? Well, if you want to know, I’m wondering if this guy is putting -one over on us. How are we to know he’s telling us the right place?”</p> - -<p>“Dolly!” said Mr. Twist, deeply pained.</p> - -<p>“Dolly!” said Mr. Molloy, not so much pained as apprehensive. He had a -very modest opinion of his own chances of thinking of any way for coping -with the situation which had arisen, and everything, it seemed to him, -depended upon being polite to Chimp Twist, who was admittedly a man of -infinite resource and sagacity.</p> - -<p>“If you think that of me——” began Mr. Twist.</p> - -<p>“We don’t, Chimpie, we don’t,” interrupted Mr. Molloy hastily. “The -madam is a little upset. Don’t listen to her. What is this scheme of -yours, Chimpie?”</p> - -<p>Perhaps Mrs. Molloy’s estimate of her husban<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140">{140}</a></span>d’s talents as a strategist -resembled his own. At any rate, she choked down certain words that had -presented themselves to her militant mind and stood eying Chimp -inquiringly.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Chimp. “But first let’s get the business end -straight. How do we divvy?”</p> - -<p>“Why, fifty-fifty, Chimp,” stammered Mr. Molloy, stunned at the -suggestion implied in his words that any other arrangement could be -contemplated. “Me and the madam counting as one, of course.”</p> - -<p>Chimp laughed sardonically.</p> - -<p>“Fifty-fifty nothing! I’m the brains of this concern, and the brains of -a concern always gets paid highest. Look at Henry Ford! Look at the -Archbishop of Canterbury!”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean to say,” demanded Dolly, “that if Soapy was sitting in with -the Archbishop of Canterbury on a plan for skinning a sucker the -archbish wouldn’t split Even Stephen?”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t like that at all,” retorted Mr. Twist with spirit. “It’s more -as if Soapy went to the Archbishop of Canterbury and asked him to slip -him a scheme for skinning the mug.”</p> - -<p>“Well, in that case,” said Mr. Molloy, “I venture to assert that the -archbishop would simply say to me, ‘Molloy,’ he’d say——”</p> - -<p>Dolly wearied of a discussion which seemed to her too academic for the -waste of valuable moments.</p> - -<p>“Sixty-forty,” she said brusquely.</p> - -<p>“Seventy-thirty,” emended Chimp.</p> - -<p>“Sixty-five-thirty-five,” said Mr. Molloy.</p> - -<p>“Right!” said Chimp. “And now I’ll tell you what<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141">{141}</a></span> to do.” I’ll give you -five minutes first to see if you can think of it for yourself, and if -you can’t, I’ll ask you not to start beefing because it’s so simple and -not worth the money.”</p> - -<p>Five minutes’ concentrated meditation produced no brain wave in Mr. -Molloy, who, outside his chosen profession of selling valueless oil -stock to a trusting public, was not a very gifted man.</p> - -<p>“Well, then,” said Chimp, “here you are: You go to that fellow who’s -taken the joint and ask him to let you buy it off him.”</p> - -<p>“Well, of all the fool propositions!” cried Dolly shrilly, and even Mr. -Molloy came near to sneering.</p> - -<p>“Not so good, you don’t think?” continued Chimp, uncrushed. “Well, then, -listen here to the rest of it. Dolly calls on this fellow first. She -acts surprised because her father hasn’t arrived yet.”</p> - -<p>“Her what?”</p> - -<p>“Her father. Then she starts in vamping this guy all she can. If she -hasn’t lost her pep since she last tried that sort of thing, the guy -ought to be in pretty good shape for Act Two by the time the curtain -rings up. That’s when you blow in, Soapy.”</p> - -<p>“Am I her father?” asked Mr. Molloy, a little blankly.</p> - -<p>“Sure, you’re her father. Why not?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Molloy, who was a little sensitive about the difference in age -between his bride and himself, considered that Chimp was not displaying -his usual tact, but muttered something about greying himself up some at -the temples.</p> - -<p>“Then what?” asked Dolly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142">{142}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Then,” said Chimp, “Soapy does a spiel.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Molloy brightened. He knew himself to be at his best when it came to -a spiel.</p> - -<p>“Soapy says he was born in this joint—ages and ages ago.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean—ages and ages ago?” said Mr. Molloy, starting.</p> - -<p>“Ages and ages ago,” repeated Chimp firmly, “before he had to emigrate -to America and leave the dear old place to be sold. He has loving -childhood recollections of the lawn where he played as a kiddy and -worships every brick in the place. All his favourite relations pegged -out in the rooms upstairs, and all like that. Well, I’m here to say,” -concluded Chimp emphatically, “that if that guy has any sentiment in him -and if Dolly has done the preliminary work properly, he’ll drop.”</p> - -<p>There was a tense silence.</p> - -<p>“It’ll work,” said Soapy.</p> - -<p>“It might work,” said Dolly, more doubtfully.</p> - -<p>“It will work,” said Soapy. “I shall be good. I will have that lobster -weeping into his handkerchief inside three minutes.”</p> - -<p>“A lot depends on Dolly,” Chimp reminded him.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you worry about that,” said the lady stoutly. “I’ll be good too. -But listen here; I’ve got to dress this act. This is where I have to -have that hat with the bird-of-paradise feather that I see in Regent -Street this morning.”</p> - -<p>“How much?” inquired the rest of the syndicate in a single breath.</p> - -<p>“Eighteen guineas.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143">{143}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Eighteen guineas!” said Chimp.</p> - -<p>“Eighteen guineas!” said Soapy.</p> - -<p>They looked at each other wanly, while Dolly, unheeded, spoke of ships -and ha’porths of tar.</p> - -<p>“And a new dress,” she continued, warming to her work. “And new shoes -and a new parasol and new gloves and new——”</p> - -<p>“Have a heart, petty,” pleaded Mr. Molloy. “Exercise a little -discretion, sweetness.”</p> - -<p>Dolly was firm.</p> - -<p>“A girl,” she said, “can’t do herself justice in a tacky lid. You know -that. And you know as well as I do that the first thing a gentleman does -is to look at a dame’s hoofs. And as for gloves, I simply beg you to -cast an eye on these old things I’ve got on now and ask yourselves——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, all right, all right,” said Chimp.</p> - -<p>“All right,” echoed Mr. Molloy.</p> - -<p>Their faces were set grimly. These men were brave, but they were -suffering.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144">{144}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>CHAPTER FOURTEEN<br /><br /> -<small>THE CHIRRUP</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">M</span>R. WRENN looked up from his plate with a sudden start, a wild and -febrile glare of horror in his eyes. Old theatregoers, had any such been -present, would have been irresistibly reminded by his demeanour of the -late Sir Henry Irving in <i>The Bells</i>.</p> - -<p>It was breakfast time at San Rafael; and, as always at this meal, the -air was charged with an electric unrest. It is ever thus at breakfast in -the suburbs. The specter of a fleeting train broods over the feast, -turning normally placid men into temporary neuropaths. Meeting Mr. Wrenn -in Fleet Street after lunch, you would have set him down as a very -pleasant, quiet, elderly gentleman, rather on the mild side. At -breakfast, Bengal tigers could have picked up hints from him.</p> - -<p>“Zatawittle?” he gasped, speaking in the early morning patois of -Suburbia, which is the English language filtered through toast and -marmalade.</p> - -<p>“Of course, it wasn’t a whistle, darling,” said Kay soothingly. “I keep -telling you you’ve lots of time.”</p> - -<p>Partially reassured, Mr. Wrenn went on with his meal. He finished his -toast and reached for his cup.</p> - -<p>“Wassatie?”</p> - -<p>“Only a quarter-past.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145">{145}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Sure your washrah?”</p> - -<p>“I put it right yesterday.”</p> - -<p>At this moment there came faintly from afar a sweet, musical chiming.</p> - -<p>“There’s the college clock striking the quarter,” said Kay.</p> - -<p>Mr. Wrenn’s fever subsided. If it was only a quarter-past he was on -velvet. He could linger and chat for a while. He could absolutely dally. -He pushed back his chair and lighted a cigarette with the air of a -leisured man.</p> - -<p>“Kay, my dear,” he said, “I’ve been thinking—about this young fellow -Shotter.”</p> - -<p>Kay jumped. By an odd coincidence, she had herself been thinking of Sam -at that moment. It annoyed her to think of Sam, but she constantly found -herself doing it.</p> - -<p>“I really think we ought to invite him to dinner one night.”</p> - -<p>“No!”</p> - -<p>“But he seems so anxious to be friendly. Only yesterday he asked me if -he could drop round some time and borrow the garden roller. He said he -understood that that was always the first move in the suburbs toward -establishing good neighbourly relations.”</p> - -<p>“If you ask him to dinner I shall go out.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t understand why you dislike him so much.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I just do.”</p> - -<p>“He seems to admire you tremendously.”</p> - -<p>“Does he?”</p> - -<p>“He keeps talking about you—asking what you were<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146">{146}</a></span> like as a child and -whether you ever did you hair differently and things of that kind.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!”</p> - -<p>“I rather wish you didn’t object to him so much. I should like to see -something of him out of office hours. I find him a very pleasant fellow -myself, and extremely useful in the office. He has taken that Aunt -Ysobel page off my hands. You remember how I used to hate having to -write that?”</p> - -<p>“Is that all he does?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Wrenn chuckled.</p> - -<p>“By no means,” he said amusedly.</p> - -<p>“What are you laughing at?”</p> - -<p>“I was thinking,” explained Mr. Wrenn, “of something that happened -yesterday. Cordelia Blair called to see me with one of her usual -grievances——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no!” said Kay sympathetically. Her uncle, she knew, was much -persecuted by female contributors who called with grievances at the -offices of Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i>; and of all these gifted creatures, -Miss Cordelia Blair was the one he feared most. “What was the trouble -this time?”</p> - -<p>“Apparently the artist who is illustrating <i>Hearts Aflame</i> had drawn -Leslie Mordyke in a lounge suit instead of dress clothes.”</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you bite these women’s heads off when they come bothering -you? You shouldn’t be so nice to them.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t, my dear,” said Mr. Wrenn plaintively. “I don’t know why it is, -but the mere sight of a woman novelist who is all upset seems to take -all the heart out of me. I sometimes wish I could edit some paper like<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147">{147}</a></span> -<i>Tiny Tots</i> or <i>Our Feathered Chums</i>. I don’t suppose indignant children -come charging in on Mason or outraged canaries on Mortimer.... But I was -telling you—when I heard her voice in the outer office, I acquainted -this young fellow Shotter briefly with the facts, and he most nobly -volunteered to go out and soothe her.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t imagine him soothing anyone.”</p> - -<p>“Well, he certainly had the most remarkable effect on Miss Blair. He -came back ten minutes later to say that all was well and that she had -gone away quite happy.”</p> - -<p>“Did he tell you how he had managed it?”</p> - -<p>“No.” Another chuckle escaped Mr. Wrenn. “Kay, it isn’t possible—you -don’t imagine—you don’t suppose he could conceivably, on such a very -slight acquaintance, have kissed her, do you?”</p> - -<p>“I should think it very probable.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m bound to own——”</p> - -<p>“Don’t laugh in that horrible, ghoulish way, uncle!”</p> - -<p>“I can’t help it. I could see nothing, you understand, as I was in the -inner office; but there were most certainly sounds that suggested——”</p> - -<p>Mr. Wrenn broke off. Again that musical chiming had come faintly to his -ears. But this time its effect was the reverse of soothing. He became a -thing of furious activity. He ran to and fro, seizing his hat and -dropping it, picking it up and dropping his brief case, retrieving the -brief case and dropping his stick. By the time he had finally shot out -of the front door with his hat on his head, his brief case in his hand -and his stick dangling from his arm, it was as if a tornado<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148">{148}</a></span> had passed -through the interior of San Rafael, and Kay, having seen him off, went -out into the garden to try to recover.</p> - -<p>It was a pleasant, sunny morning, and she made for her favourite spot, -the shade of the large tree that hung over the edge of the lawn, a noble -tree, as spreading as that which once sheltered the Village Blacksmith. -Technically, this belonged to Mon Repos, its roots being in the latter’s -domain; but its branches had grown out over the fence, and San Rafael, -with that injustice which is so marked a feature of human affairs, got -all the benefit of its shade.</p> - -<p>Seated under this, with a gentle breeze ruffling her hair, Kay gave -herself up to meditation.</p> - -<p>She felt worried and upset and in the grip of one of her rare moods of -despondency. She had schooled herself to pine as little as possible for -the vanished luxury of Midways, but when she did so pine it was always -at this time of the day. For although she had adjusted herself with -almost complete success to the conditions of life at San Rafael, she had -not yet learned to bear up under the suburban breakfast.</p> - -<p>At Midways the meal had been so leisurely, so orderly, so spacious, so -redolent of all that is most delightful in the country life of the -wealthy; a meal of soft murmurs and rustling papers, of sunshine falling -on silver in the summer, of crackling fires in winter; a take-your-time -meal; a thing of dignity and comfort. Breakfast at San Rafael was a mere -brutish bolting of food, and it jarred upon her afresh each morning.</p> - -<p>The breeze continued to play in her hair. Birds hopped upon the grass. -Someone down the road was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149">{149}</a></span> using a lawn mower. Gradually the feeling of -having been jolted and shaken by some rude force began to pass from Kay, -and she was just reaching the stage where, re-establishing connection -with her sense of humour, she would be able to look upon the amusing -side of the recent scramble, when from somewhere between earth and -heaven there spoke a voice.</p> - -<p>“Oo-oo!” said the voice.</p> - -<p>Kay was puzzled. Though no ornithologist, she had become reasonably -familiar with the distinctive notes of such of our feathered chums as -haunted the garden of San Rafael, and this did not appear to be one of -them.</p> - -<p>“I see you,” proceeded the voice lovingly. “How’s your pore head, -dearie?”</p> - -<p>The solution of the mystery presented itself at last. Kay raised her -eyes and beheld, straddled along a branch almost immediately above her, -a lean, stringy man of ruffianly aspect, his naturally unlovely face -rendered additionally hideous by an arch and sentimental smile. For a -long instant this person goggled at her, and she stared back at him. -Then, with a gasp that sounded confusedly apologetic, he scrambled back -along the branch like an anthropoid ape, and dropping to earth beyond -the fence, galloped blushingly up the garden.</p> - -<p>Kay sprang to her feet. She had been feeling soothed, but now a bubbling -fury had her in its grip. It was bad enough that outcasts like Sam -Shotter should come and camp themselves next door to her. It was bad -enough that they should annoy her uncle, a busy man, with foolish -questions about what she had<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150">{150}</a></span> been like as a child and whether she had -ever done her hair differently. But when their vile retainers went to -the length of climbing trees and chirruping at her out of them, the -situation, it seemed to her, passed beyond the limit up to which a -spirited girl may reasonably be expected to endure.</p> - -<p>She returned to the house, fermenting, and as she reached the hall the -front doorbell rang.</p> - -<p>Technically, when the front doorbell of San Rafael rang, it was Claire -Lippett’s duty to answer it; but Claire was upstairs making beds. Kay -stalked across the hall, and having turned the handle, found confronting -her a young woman of spectacular appearance, clad in gorgeous raiment -and surmounted by a bird-of-paradise-feathered hat so much too good for -her that Kay’s immediate reaction of beholding it was one of simple and -ignoble jealousy. It was the sort of hat she would have liked to be able -to afford herself, and its presence on the dyed hair of another cemented -the prejudice which that other’s face and eyes had aroused within her.</p> - -<p>“Does a guy named Shotter live here?” asked the visitor. Then, with the -air of one remembering a part and with almost excessive refinement, -“Could I see Mr. Shotter, if you please?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Shotter lives next door,” said Kay frostily.</p> - -<p>“Oh, thank yaw. Thank yaw so much.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all,” said Kay.</p> - -<p>She shut the door and went into the drawing-room. The feeling of being -in a world bounded north, east, south and west by Sam Shotter had -thoroughly poisoned her day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151">{151}</a></span></p> - -<p>She took pen, ink and paper and wrote viciously for a few moments.</p> - -<p>“Claire,” she called.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Ullo!” replied a distant voice.</p> - -<p>“I’m leaving a note on the hall table. Will you take it next door some -time?”</p> - -<p>“Right-ho!” bellowed the obliging Miss Lippett.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152">{152}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>CHAPTER FIFTEEN<br /><br /> -<small>VISITORS AT MON REPOS</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">S</span>AM was preparing to leave for the office when his visitor arrived. He -had, indeed, actually opened the front door.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Shottah?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Sam. He was surprised to see Mrs. Molloy. He had not -expected visitors at so early a period of his tenancy. This, he -supposed, must be the suburban equivalent of the county calling on the -new-comer. Impressed by the hat, he assumed Dolly to be one of the old -aristocracy of Valley Fields. A certain challenging jauntiness in her -bearing forbade the suspicion that she was collecting funds for charity. -“Won’t you come in?”</p> - -<p>“Thank yaw. Thank yaw so much. The house agent told me your name.”</p> - -<p>“Cornelius?”</p> - -<p>“Gink with a full set of white whiskers. Say, somebody ought to put that -baby wise about the wonderful invention of the safety razor.”</p> - -<p>Sam agreed that this might be in the public interest, but he began to -revise his views about the old aristocracy.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid you’ll find the place in rather a mess,” he said -apologetically, leading the way to the drawing-room. “I’ve only just -moved in.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153">{153}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>The visitor replied that, on the contrary, she thought it cute.</p> - -<p>“I seem to know this joint by heart,” she said. “I’ve heard so much -about it from old pop.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think I am acquainted with Mr. Popp.”</p> - -<p>“My father, I mean. He used to live here when he was a tiny kiddy.”</p> - -<p>“Really? I should have taken you for an American.”</p> - -<p>“I am American, and don’t let anyone tell you different.”</p> - -<p>“I won’t.”</p> - -<p>“One hundred per cent, that’s me,” Sam nodded.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Oh, say, can you see by the dawn’s early light?’<span class="lftspc">”</span> he said reverently.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>What so proudly’—I never can remember any more.”</p> - -<p>“No one,” Sam reminded her, “knows the words but the Argentines....”</p> - -<p>“...And the Portuguese and the Greeks.” The lady beamed. “Say, don’t -tell me you’re American too!”</p> - -<p>“My mother was.”</p> - -<p>“Why, this is fine! Pop’ll be tickled to death.”</p> - -<p>“Is your father coming here too?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I should say so! You don’t think I pay calls on strange gentlemen -all by myself, do you?” said the lady archly. “But listen! If you’re -American, we’re sitting pretty, because it’s only us Americans that’s -got real sentiment in them. Ain’t it the truth?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t quite understand. Why do you want me to have sentiment?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154">{154}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Pop’ll explain all that when he arrives. I’m surprised he hasn’t blown -in yet. I didn’t think I’d get here first.” She looked about her. “It -seems funny to think of pop as a little kiddy in this very room.”</p> - -<p>“Your father was English then?”</p> - -<p>“Born in England—born here—born in this very house. Just to think of -pop playing all them childish games in this very room!”</p> - -<p>Sam began to wish that she would stop. Her conversation was beginning to -give the place a queer feeling. The room had begun to seem haunted by a -peculiar being of middle-aged face and juvenile costume. So much so that -when she suddenly exclaimed, “There’s pop!” he had a momentary -impression that a whiskered elder in Lord Fauntleroy clothes was about -to dance out from behind the sofa.</p> - -<p>Then he saw that his visitor was looking out of the window and, -following her gaze, noted upon the front steps a gentleman of majestic -port.</p> - -<p>“I’ll go and let him in,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Do you live here all alone?” asked the lady, and Sam got the idea that -she spoke eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, I’ve a man. But he’s busy somewhere.”</p> - -<p>“I see,” she said disappointedly.</p> - -<p>The glimpse which Sam had caught of the new arrival through the window -had been a sketchy one. It was only as he opened the door that he got a -full view of him. And having done so, he was a little startled. It is -always disconcerting to see a familiar face where one had expected a -strange one. This was the man he had seen in the bar that day when he -had met Hash in Fleet Street.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155">{155}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Mr. Shotter?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>It seemed to Sam that the man had aged a good deal since he had seen him -last. The fact was that Mr. Molloy, in greying himself up at the -temples, had rather overdone the treatment. Still, though stricken in -years, he looked a genial, kindly, honest soul.</p> - -<p>“My name is Gunn, Mr. Shotter—Thomas G. Gunn.”</p> - -<p>It had been Mr. Molloy’s intention—for he was an artist and liked to do -a thing, as he said, properly—to adopt for this interview the pseudonym -of J. Felkin Haggenbakker, that seeming to his critical view the sort of -name a sentimental millionaire who had made a fortune in Pittsburgh and -was now revisiting the home of his boyhood ought to have. The proposal -had been vetoed by Dolly, who protested that she did not intend to spend -hours of her time in unnecessary study.</p> - -<p>“Won’t you come in?” said Sam.</p> - -<p>He stood aside to let his visitor pass, wondering again where it was -that he had originally seen the man. He hated to forget a face and -personality which should have been unforgettable. He ushered Mr. Gunn -into the drawing-room, still pondering.</p> - -<p>“So there you are, pop,” said the lady. “Say, pop, isn’t it dandy? Mr. -Shotter’s an American.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Gunn’s frank eyes lit up with gratification.</p> - -<p>“Ah! Then you are a man of sentiment, Mr. Shotter. You will understand. -You will not think it odd that a man should cherish all through his life -a wistful yearning for the place where he was born.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all,” said Sam politely, and might have re<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156">{156}</a></span>minded his visitor -that the feeling, a highly creditable one, was shared by practically all -America’s most eminent song writers.</p> - -<p>“Well, that is how I feel, Mr. Shotter,” said the other bluffly, “and I -am not ashamed to confess it. This house is very dear to me. I was born -in it.”</p> - -<p>“So Miss Gunn was telling me.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, she has told you? Yes, Mr. Shotter, I am a man who has seen men and -cities. I have lived in the hovels of the poor, I have risen till, if I -may say so, I am welcomed in the palaces of the rich. But never, rich or -poor, have I forgotten this old place and the childhood associations -which hallow it.”</p> - -<p>He paused. His voice had trembled and sunk to a whisper in those last -words, and now he turned abruptly and looked out of a window. His -shoulders heaved significantly for an instant and something like a -stifled sob broke the stillness of the room. But when a moment later he -swung round he was himself again, the tough, sturdy old J. Felkin -Haggenbakker—or, rather, Thomas G. Gunn—who was so highly respected, -and perhaps a little feared, at the Rotary Club in Pittsburgh.</p> - -<p>“Well, I must not bore you, Mr. Shotter. You are, no doubt, a busy man. -Let me be brief. Mr. Shotter, I want this house.”</p> - -<p>“You want what?” said Sam, bewildered. He had had no notion that he was -going to be swept into the maelstrom of a business transaction.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, I want this house. And let me tell you that money is no -object. I’ve lots of money.” He dismissed money with a gesture. “I have -my whims and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157">{157}</a></span> I can pay for them. How much for the house, Mr. Shotter?”</p> - -<p>Sam felt that it behooved him to keep his head. He had not the remotest -intention of selling for all the gold in Pittsburgh a house which, in -the first place, did not belong to him and, secondly, was next door to -Kay Derrick.</p> - -<p>“I’m very sorry——” he began.</p> - -<p>Mr. Gunn checked him with an apologetic lift of the hand.</p> - -<p>“I was too abrupt,” he said. “I rushed the thing. A bad habit of mine. -When I was prospecting in Nevada, the boys used to call me Hair-Trigger -Gunn. I ought to have stated my position more clearly.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I understand your position.”</p> - -<p>“You realise then that this isn’t a house to me; it is a shrine?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes; but——”</p> - -<p>“It contains,” said Mr. Gunn with perfect truth, “something very -precious to me.”</p> - -<p>“Yes; but——”</p> - -<p>“It is my boyhood that is enshrined here—my innocent, happy, halcyon -boyhood. I have played games at my mother’s knee in this very room. I -have read tales from the Scriptures with her here. It was here that my -mother, seated at the piano, used to sing—sing——”</p> - -<p>His voice died away again. He blew his nose and turned once more to the -window. But though he was under the impression that he had achieved a -highly artistic aposiopesis, he could hardly have selected a more -unfortunate word to stammer brokenly. Some<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158">{158}</a></span>thing resembling an electric -thrill ran through Sam. Memory, dormant, had responded to the code word.</p> - -<p>Sing Sing! He knew now where he had seen this man before.</p> - -<p>It is the custom of the Welfare League of America’s most famous -penitentiary to alleviate the monotony of the convict’s lot by giving -periodical performances of plays, produced and acted by the personnel of -the prison. When the enterprising burglar isn’t burgling, in fact, he is -probably memorising the words of some popular lyric for rendition on the -next big night.</p> - -<p>To one of these performances, some eighteen months back, Sam had been -taken by a newspaper friend. The hit of the evening had been this very -Thomas G. Gunn, then a mere number, in the rôle of a senator.</p> - -<p>Mr. Gunn had resumed his address. He was speaking once more of his -mother, and speaking well. But he was not holding his audience. Sam cut -in on his eloquence.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I’m afraid this house is not for sale.”</p> - -<p>“But, Mr. Shotter——”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Sam. “I have a very special reason for wishing to stay here, -and I intend to remain. And now I’m afraid I must ask you——”</p> - -<p>“Suppose I look in this evening and take the matter up again?” pleaded -Mr. Gunn, finding with some surprise that he had been edged out onto the -steps and making a last stand there.</p> - -<p>“It’s no use. Besides, I shan’t be in this evening. I’m dining out.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159">{159}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Will anybody be in?” asked Miss Gunn suddenly, breaking a long silence.</p> - -<p>“Why, yes,” said Sam, somewhat surprised, “the man who works here. Why?”</p> - -<p>“I was only thinking that if we called he might show us over the place.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I see. Well, good-bye.”</p> - -<p>“But, say now, listen——”</p> - -<p>“Good-bye,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>He closed the door and made his way to the kitchen. Hash, his chair -tilted back against the wall, was smoking a thoughtful pipe.</p> - -<p>“Who was it, Sam?”</p> - -<p>“Somebody wanting to buy the house. Hash, there’s something fishy going -on.”</p> - -<p>“Ur?”</p> - -<p>“Do you remember me pointing out a man to you in that bar in Fleet -Street?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it was the same fellow. And do you remember me saying that I was -sure I had seen him before somewhere?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ve remembered where it was. It was in Sing Sing, and he was -serving a sentence there.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Todhunter’s feet came to the floor with a crash.</p> - -<p>“There’s something darned peculiar about this house, Hash. I slept in it -the night I landed, and there was a fellow creeping around with an -electric torch. And now this man, whom I know to be a crook, puts up a -fake story to make me let him have it. What do you think, Hash?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160">{160}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you what I think,” said Mr. Todhunter, alarmed. “I think I’m -going straight out to buy a good watchdog.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a good idea.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t like these bad characters hanging about. I had a cousin in the -pawnbroking line what was hit on the ’ead by a burglar with a antique -vase. That’s what happened to him, all through hearing a noise in the -night and coming down to see what it was.”</p> - -<p>“But what’s at the back of all this? What do you make of it?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, there you have me,” said Hash frankly. “But that don’t alter the -fact that I’m going to get a dog.”</p> - -<p>“I should. Get something pretty fierce.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll get a dog,” said Hash solemnly, “that’ll feed on nails and bite -his own mother.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161">{161}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>CHAPTER SIXTEEN<br /><br /> -<small>ASTONISHING STATEMENT OF HASH TODHUNTER</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HE dinner to which Sam had been bidden that night was at the house of -his old friend, Mr. Willoughby Braddock, in John Street, Mayfair, and at -ten minutes to eight Mr. Braddock was fidgeting about the morning-room, -interviewing his housekeeper, Mrs. Martha Lippett. His guests would be -arriving at any moment, and for the last quarter of an hour, a-twitter -with the nervousness of an anxious host, he had been popping about the -place on a series of tours of inspection, as jumpy, to quote the words -of Sleddon, his butler—whom, by leaping suddenly out from the dimly lit -dining-room, he had caused to bite his tongue and nearly drop a tray of -glasses—as an old hen. The general consensus of opinion below stairs -was that Willoughby Braddock, in his capacity of master of the revels, -was making a thorough pest of himself.</p> - -<p>“You are absolutely certain that everything is all right, Mrs. Lippett?”</p> - -<p>“Everything is quite all right, Master Willie,” replied the housekeeper -equably.</p> - -<p>This redoubtable woman differed from her daughter Claire in being tall -and thin and beaked like an eagle. One of the well-known Bromage family -of Marshott-<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162">{162}</a></span>in-the-Dale, she had watched with complacent pride the -Bromage nose developing in her sons and daughters, and it had always -been a secret grief to her that Claire, her favourite, who inherited so -much of her forceful and determined character, should have been the only -one of her children to take nasally after the inferior, or Lippett, side -of the house. Mr. Lippett had been an undistinguished man, hardly fit to -mate with a Bromage and certainly not worthy to be resembled in -appearance by the best of his daughters.</p> - -<p>“You’re sure there will be enough to eat?”</p> - -<p>“There will be ample to eat.”</p> - -<p>“How about drinks?” said Mr. Braddock, and was reminded by the word of a -grievance which had been rankling within his bosom ever since his last -expedition to the dining room. He pulled down the corners of his white -waistcoat and ran his finger round the inside of his collar. “Mrs. -Lippett,” he said, “I—er—I was outside the dining room just now——”</p> - -<p>“Were you, Master Willie? You must not fuss so. Everything will be quite -all right.”</p> - -<p>“——and I overheard you telling Sleddon not to let me have any -champagne to-night,” said Mr. Braddock, reddening at the outrageous -recollection.</p> - -<p>The housekeeper stiffened.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I did, Master Willie. And your dear mother, if she were still with -us, would have given the very same instructions—after what my daughter -Claire told me of what occurred the other night and the disgraceful -condition you were in. What your dear mother would have said, I don’t -know!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Lippett’s conversation during the last twenty<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163">{163}</a></span> years of Willoughby -Braddock’s life had dealt largely with speculations as to what his dear -mother would have said of various ventures undertaken or contemplated by -him.</p> - -<p>“You must fight against the craving, Master Willie. Remember your Uncle -George!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock groaned in spirit. One of the things that make these old -retainers so hard to bear is that they are so often walking editions of -the <i>chroniques scandaleuses</i> of the family. It sometimes seemed to Mr. -Braddock that he could not move a step in any direction without having -the awful example of some erring ancestor flung up against him.</p> - -<p>“Well, look here,” he said, with weak defiance, “I want champagne -to-night.”</p> - -<p>“You will have cider, Master Willie.”</p> - -<p>“But I hate cider.”</p> - -<p>“Cider is good for you, Master Willie,” said Mrs. Lippett firmly.</p> - -<p>The argument was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. The -housekeeper left the room, and presently Sleddon, the butler, entered, -escorting Lord Tilbury.</p> - -<p>“Ha, my dear fellow,” said Lord Tilbury, bustling in.</p> - -<p>He beamed upon his host as genially as the Napoleonic cast of his -countenance would permit. He rather liked Willoughby Braddock, as he -rather liked all very rich young men.</p> - -<p>“How are you?” said Mr. Braddock. “Awfully good of you to come at such -short notice.”</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164">{164}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>He spoke heartily, but he had, as a matter of fact, been a little piqued -at being invited to dinner on the morning of the feast. He considered -that his eminence entitled him to more formal and reverential treatment. -And though he had accepted, having had previous experience of the -excellence of Mr. Braddock’s cook, he felt that something in the nature -of an apology was due to him and was glad that it had been made.</p> - -<p>“I asked you at the last moment,” explained Mr. Braddock, “because I -wasn’t sure till this morning that Sam Shotter would be able to come. I -thought it would be jolly for him, meeting you out of the office, don’t -you know.”</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury inclined his head. He quite saw the force of the argument -that it would be jolly for anyone, meeting him.</p> - -<p>“So you know young Shotter?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes. We were at school together.”</p> - -<p>“A peculiar young fellow.”</p> - -<p>“A great lad.”</p> - -<p>“But—er—a little eccentric, don’t you think?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Sam always was a bit of nib,” said Mr. Braddock. “At school there -used to be some iron bars across the passage outside our dormitory, the -idea being to coop us up during the night, don’t you know. Sam used to -shin over these and go downstairs to the house master’s study.”</p> - -<p>“With what purpose?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, just to sit.”</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury was regarding his host blankly. Not a day passed, he was -ruefully reflecting, but he received some further evidence of the light -and unstable char<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165">{165}</a></span>acter of this young man of whom he had so rashly taken -charge.</p> - -<p>“It sounds a perfectly imbecile proceeding to me,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t know, you know,” said Mr. Braddock, for the defence. “You -see, occasionally there would be a cigar or a plate of biscuits or -something left out, and then Sam would scoop them. So it wasn’t -altogether a waste of time.”</p> - -<p>Sleddon was entering with a tray.</p> - -<p>“Cocktail?” said Mr. Braddock, taking one himself with a defiant glare -at his faithful servant, who was trying to keep the tray out of his -reach.</p> - -<p>“No, I thank you,” said Lord Tilbury. “My doctor has temporarily -forbidden me the use of alcoholic beverages. I have been troubled of -late with a suspicion of gout.”</p> - -<p>“Tough luck.”</p> - -<p>“No doubt I am better without them. I find cider an excellent -substitute.... Are you expecting many people here to-night?”</p> - -<p>“A fairish number. I don’t think you know any of them—except, of -course, old Wrenn.”</p> - -<p>“Wrenn? You mean the editor of my <i>Home Companion</i>?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. He and his niece are coming. She lives with him, you know.”</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury started as if a bradawl had been thrust through the -cushions of his chair; and for an instant, so powerfully did these words -affect him, he had half a mind to bound at the receding Sleddon and, -regardless of medical warnings, snatch from him that rejected<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166">{166}</a></span> cocktail. -A restorative of some kind seemed to him imperative.</p> - -<p>The statement by Mr. Wrenn, delivered in his office on the morning of -Sam’s arrival, that he possessed no daughter had had the effect of -relieving Lord Tilbury’s mind completely. Francie, generally so unerring -in these matters, had, he decided, wronged Sam in attributing his -occupancy of Mon Repos to a desire to be next door to some designing -girl. And now it appeared that she had been right all the time.</p> - -<p>He was still staring with dismay at his unconscious host when the rest -of the dinner guests began to arrive. They made no impression on his -dazed mind. Through a sort of mist, he was aware of a young man with a -face like a rabbit, another young man with a face like another rabbit; -two small, shingled creatures, one blonde, the other dark, who seemed to -be either wives or sisters of these young men; and an unattached female -whom Mr. Braddock addressed as Aunt Julia. His Lordship remained aloof, -buried in his thoughts and fraternising with none of them.</p> - -<p>Then Sam appeared, and a few moments later Sleddon announced Mr. Wrenn -and Miss Derrick; and Lord Tilbury, who had been examining a picture by -the window, swung round with a jerk.</p> - -<p>In a less prejudiced frame of mind he might have approved of Kay; for, -like so many other great men, he had a nice eye for feminine beauty, and -she was looking particularly attractive in a gold dress which had -survived the wreck of Midways. But now that very beauty merely increased -his disapproval and alarm. He looked at her with horror. He glared as<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167">{167}</a></span> -the good old father in a film glares at the adventuress from whose -clutches he is trying to save his only son.</p> - -<p>At this moment, however, something happened that sent hope and comfort -stealing through his heart. Sam, who had been seized upon by Aunt Julia -and had been talking restively to her for some minutes, now contrived by -an adroit piece of side-stepping to remove himself from her sphere of -influence. He slid swiftly up to Kay, and Lord Tilbury, who was watching -her closely, saw her face freeze. She said a perfunctory word or two, -and then, turning away, began to talk with great animation to one of the -rabbit-faced young men. And Sam, with rather the manner of one who has -bumped into a brick wall in the dark, drifted off and was immediately -gathered in again by Aunt Julia.</p> - -<p>A delightful sensation of relief poured over Lord Tilbury. In the days -of his youth when he had attended subscription dances at the Empress -Rooms, West Kensington, he had sometimes seen that look on the faces of -his partners when he had happened to tread on their dresses. He knew its -significance. Such a look could mean but one thing—that Kay, though -living next door to Sam, did not regard him as one of the pleasant -features of the neighbourhood. In short, felt Lord Tilbury, if there was -anything between these two young people, it was something extremely -one-sided; and he went in to dinner with a light heart, prepared to -enjoy the cooking of Mr. Braddock’s admirable chef as it should be -enjoyed.</p> - -<p>When, on sitting at the table, he found that Kay was on his right, he -was pleased, for he had now come to entertain a feeling of warm esteem -for this excellent<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168">{168}</a></span> and sensible girl. It was his practice never to talk -while he ate caviare; but when that had been consumed in a holy silence -he turned to her, beaming genially.</p> - -<p>“I understand you live at Valley Fields, Miss Derrick.”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“A charming spot.”</p> - -<p>“Very.”</p> - -<p>“The college grounds are very attractive.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes.”</p> - -<p>“Have you visited the picture gallery?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, several times.”</p> - -<p>Fish arrived—<i>sole meunière</i>. It was Lord Tilbury’s custom never to -talk during the fish course.</p> - -<p>“My young friend Shotter is, I believe, a near neighbour of yours,” he -said, when the <i>sole meunière</i> was no more.</p> - -<p>“He lives next door.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed? Then you see a great deal of him, no doubt?”</p> - -<p>“I never see him.”</p> - -<p>“A most delightful young fellow,” said Lord Tilbury, sipping cider.</p> - -<p>Kay looked at him stonily.</p> - -<p>“Do you think so?” she said.</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury’s last doubts were removed. He felt that all was for the -best in the best of all possible worlds. Like some joyous reveller out -of Rabelais, he raised his glass with a light-hearted flourish. He -looked as if he were about to start a drinking chorus.</p> - -<p>“Excellent cider, this, Braddock,” he boomed genially. “Most -excellent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169">{169}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Willoughby Braddock, who had been eying his own supply of that wholesome -beverage with sullen dislike, looked at him in pained silence; and Sam, -who had been sitting glumly, listening without interest to the prattle -of one of the shingled girls, took it upon himself to reply. He was -feeling sad and ill used. That incident before dinner had distressed -him. Moreover, only a moment ago he had caught Kay’s eye for an instant -across the table, and it had been cold and disdainful. He welcomed the -opportunity of spoiling somebody’s life, and particularly that of an old -ass like Lord Tilbury, who should have been thinking about the hereafter -instead of being so infernally hearty.</p> - -<p>“I read a very interesting thing about cider the other day,” he said in -a loud, compelling voice that stopped one of the rabbit-faced young men -in mid-anecdote as if he had been smitten with an axe. “It appears that -the farmers down in Devonshire put a dead rat in every barrel——”</p> - -<p>“My dear Shotter!”</p> - -<p>“——to give it body,” went on Sam doggedly. “And the curious thing is -that when the barrels are opened, the rats are always found to have -completely disappeared—showing the power of the juice.”</p> - -<p>A wordless exclamation proceeded from Lord Tilbury. He lowered his -glass. Mr. Braddock was looking like one filled with a sudden great -resolution.</p> - -<p>“I read it in Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i>,” said Sam. “So it must be true.”</p> - -<p>“A little water, please,” said Lord Tilbury stiffly.</p> - -<p>“Sleddon,” said Mr. Braddock in a voice of thunder, “give me some -champagne.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170">{170}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Sir?” quavered the butler. He cast a swift look over his shoulder, as -if seeking the moral support of Mrs. Lippett. But Mrs. Lippett was in -the housekeeper’s room.</p> - -<p>“Sleddon!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” said the butler meekly.</p> - -<p>Sam was feeling completely restored to his usual sunny self.</p> - -<p>“Talking of Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i>,” he said, “did you take my advice -and read that serial of Cordelia Blair’s, Lord Tilbury?”</p> - -<p>“I did not,” replied His Lordship shortly.</p> - -<p>“You should. Miss Blair is a very remarkable woman.”</p> - -<p>Kay raised her eyes.</p> - -<p>“A great friend of yours, isn’t she?” she said.</p> - -<p>“I would hardly say that. I’ve only met her once.”</p> - -<p>“But you got on very well with her, I heard.”</p> - -<p>“I think I endeared myself to her pretty considerably.”</p> - -<p>“So I understood.”</p> - -<p>“I gave her a plot for a story,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>One of the rabbit-faced young men said that he could never understand -how fellows—or women, for that matter—thought up ideas for stories—or -plays, for the matter of that—or, as a matter of fact, any sort of -ideas, for that matter.</p> - -<p>“This,” Sam explained, “was something that actually happened—to a -friend of mine.”</p> - -<p>The other rabbit-faced young man said that something extremely rummy had -once happened to a pal of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171">{171}</a></span> his. He had forgotten what it was, but it had -struck him at the time as distinctly rummy.</p> - -<p>“This fellow,” said Sam, “was fishing up in Canada. He lived in a sort -of shack.”</p> - -<p>“A what?” asked the blonde shingled girl.</p> - -<p>“A hut. And tacked up on the wall of the shack was a photograph of a -girl, torn out of an illustrated weekly paper.”</p> - -<p>“Pretty?” asked the dark shingled girl.</p> - -<p>“You bet she was pretty,” said Sam devoutly. “Well, this man spent weeks -in absolute solitude, with not a soul to talk to—nothing, in fact, to -distract his mind from the photograph. The consequence was that he came -to look on this girl as—well, you might say an old friend.”</p> - -<p>“Sleddon,” said Mr. Braddock, “more champagne.”</p> - -<p>“Some months later,” proceeded Sam, “the man came over to England. He -met the girl. And still looking on her as an old friend, you understand, -he lost his head and, two minutes after they had met, he kissed her.”</p> - -<p>“Must have been rather a soppy kind of a silly sort of idiot,” observed -the blonde shingled girl critically.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you’re right,” agreed Sam. “Still, that’s what happened.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see where the story comes in,” said one of the rabbit-faced -young men.</p> - -<p>“Well, naturally, you see, not realising the true state of affairs, the -girl was very sore,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>The rabbit-faced young men looked at each other and shook their heads. -The shingled young women raised their eyebrows pityingly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172">{172}</a></span></p> - -<p>“No good,” said the blonde shingled girl.</p> - -<p>“Dud,” said the dark shingled girl. “Who’s going to believe nowadays -that a girl is such a chump as to mind a man kissing her?”</p> - -<p>“Everybody kisses everybody nowadays,” said one of the rabbit-faced -young men profoundly.</p> - -<p>“Girl was making a fuss about nothing,” said the other rabbit-faced -young man.</p> - -<p>“And how does the story end?” asked Aunt Julia.</p> - -<p>“It hasn’t ended,” said Sam. “Not yet.”</p> - -<p>“Sleddon!” said Mr. Braddock, in a quiet, dangerous voice.</p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p>It is possible, if you are young and active and in an exhilarated frame -of mind, to walk from John Street, Mayfair, to Burberry Road, Valley -Fields. Sam did so. His frame of mind was extraordinarily exhilarated. -It seemed to him, reviewing recent events, that he had detected in Kay’s -eyes for an instant a look that resembled the first dawning of spring -after a hard winter; and, though not in the costume for athletic feats, -he covered the seven miles that separated him from home at a pace which -drew derisive comment from the proletariat all along the route. The -Surrey-side Londoner is always intrigued by the spectacle of anyone -hurrying, and when that person is in dress clothes and a tall hat he -expresses himself without reserve.</p> - -<p>Sam heard nothing of this ribaldry. Unconscious of the world, he strode -along, brushing through Brixton, hurrying through Herne Hill, and -presently ar<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173">{173}</a></span>rived, warm and happy, at the door of Mon Repos.</p> - -<p>He let himself in; and, entering, was aware of a note lying on the hall -table.</p> - -<p>He opened it absently. The handwriting was strange to him, and feminine:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Shotter</span>: I should be much obliged if you would ask your -manservant not to chirrup at me out of trees.</p> - -<p class="c"> -“Yours truly,<br /><span style="margin-left: 20%;"> -“<span class="smcap">Kay Derrick</span>.”</span><br /> -</p></div> - -<p>He had to read this curt communication twice before he was able fully to -grasp its meaning. When he did so a flood of self-pity poured over Sam. -He quivered with commiseration for the hardness of his lot. Here was he, -doing all that a man could to establish pleasant neighbourly relations -with the house next door, and all the while Hash foiling his every -effort by chirruping out of trees from morning till night. It was -bitter, bitter.</p> - -<p>He was standing there, feeding his surging wrath by a third perusal of -the letter, when from the direction of the kitchen there suddenly -sounded a long, loud, agonised cry. It was like the wail of a soul in -torment; and without stopping to pick up his hat, which he had dropped -in the sheer shock of this dreadful sound, he raced down the stairs.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Ullo,” said Hash, looking up from an evening paper. “Back?”</p> - -<p>His placidity amazed Sam. If his ears were any guide, murder had been -done in this room only a few<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174">{174}</a></span> seconds before, and here was this iron man -reading the racing news without having turned a hair.</p> - -<p>“What on earth was that?”</p> - -<p>“What was what?”</p> - -<p>“That noise.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that was Amy,” said Hash.</p> - -<p>Sam’s eye was diverted by movement in progress in the shadows behind the -table. A vast shape was rising from the floor, revealing itself as an -enormous dog. It finished rising; and having placed its chin upon the -table, stood looking at him with dreamy eyes and a wrinkled forehead, -like a shortsighted person trying to recall a face.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said Sam, remembering. “So you got him?”</p> - -<p>“Her.”</p> - -<p>“What is he—she?”</p> - -<p>“Gawd knows,” said Hash simply. It was a problem which he himself had -endeavoured idly to solve earlier in the evening. “I’ve named her after -an old aunt of mine. Looks a bit like her.”</p> - -<p>“She must be an attractive woman.”</p> - -<p>“She’s dead.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it’s all for the best,” said Sam. He leaned forward and pulled -the animal’s ears in friendly fashion. Amy simpered in a ladylike way, -well pleased. “Would you say she was a bloodhound, Hash?”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t say she was anything, not to swear to.”</p> - -<p>“A kind of canine cocktail,” said Sam. “The sort of thing a Cruft’s Show -judge dreams about when he has a nightmare.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175">{175}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>He observed something lying on the floor; and stooping, found that his -overtures to the animal had caused Kay’s note to slip from his fingers. -He picked it up and eyed Hash sternly. Amy, charmed by his recent -attentions, snuffled like water going down the waste pipe of a bath.</p> - -<p>“Hash!” said Sam.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Ullo?”</p> - -<p>“What the devil,” demanded Sam forcefully, “do you mean by chirruping at -Miss Derrick out of trees?”</p> - -<p>“I only said oo-oo, Sam,” pleaded Mr. Todhunter.</p> - -<p>“You said what?”</p> - -<p>“Oo-oo!”</p> - -<p>“What on earth did you want to say oo-oo for?”</p> - -<p>Much voyaging on the high seas had given Hash’s cheeks the consistency -of teak, but at this point something resembling a blush played about -them.</p> - -<p>“I thought it was the girl.”</p> - -<p>“What girl?”</p> - -<p>“The maid. Clara, ’er name is.”</p> - -<p>“Well, why should you say oo-oo at her?”</p> - -<p>Again that faint, fleeting blush coloured Hash’s face. Before Sam’s -revolted eyes he suddenly looked coy.</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s like this, Sam: The ’ole thing ’ere is, we’re engaged.”</p> - -<p>“What!”</p> - -<p>“Engaged to be married.”</p> - -<p>“Engaged!”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said Mr. Todhunter. And once more that repellent smirk rendered -his features hideous beyond even Nature’s liberal specifications -concerning them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176">{176}</a></span></p> - -<p>Sam sat down. This extraordinary confession had shaken him deeply.</p> - -<p>“You’re engaged?”</p> - -<p>“Ah!”</p> - -<p>“But I thought you disliked women.”</p> - -<p>“So I do—most of ’em.”</p> - -<p>Another aspect of the matter struck Sam. His astonishment deepened.</p> - -<p>“But how did you manage it so soon?”</p> - -<p>“Soon?”</p> - -<p>“You can’t have seen the girl more than about half a dozen times.”</p> - -<p>Still another mysterious point about this romance presented itself to -Sam. He regarded the great lover with frank curiosity.</p> - -<p>“And what was the attraction?” he asked. “That’s what I can’t -understand.”</p> - -<p>“She’s a nice girl,” argued Hash.</p> - -<p>“I don’t mean in her; I mean in you. What is there about you that could -make this misguided female commit such a rash act? If I were a girl, and -you begged me for one little rose from my hair, I wouldn’t give it to -you.”</p> - -<p>“But——”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Sam firmly, “it’s no use arguing; I just wouldn’t give it to -you. What did she see in you?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well——”</p> - -<p>“It couldn’t have been your looks—we’ll dismiss that right away, of -course. It couldn’t have been your conversation or your intellect, -because you haven’t any. Then what was it?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Todhunter smirked coyly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177">{177}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh, well, I’ve got a way with me, Sam—that’s how it is.”</p> - -<p>“A way?”</p> - -<p>“Ah!”</p> - -<p>“What sort of way?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, just a way.”</p> - -<p>“Have you got it with you now?”</p> - -<p>“Naturally I wouldn’t ’ave it with me now,” said Hash.</p> - -<p>“You keep it for special occasions, eh? Well, you haven’t yet explained -how it all happened.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Todhunter coughed.</p> - -<p>“Well, it was like this, Sam: I see ’er in the garden, and I says -‘Ullo!’ and she says ‘Ullo!’ and then she come to the fence and then I -come to the fence, and she says ‘Ullo!’ and I says ‘Ullo!’ and then I -kiss her.”</p> - -<p>Sam gaped.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t she object?”</p> - -<p>“Object? What would she want to object for? No, indeed! It seemed to -break what you might call the ice, and after that everything got kind of -nice and matey. And then one thing led to another—see what I mean?”</p> - -<p>An aching sense of the injustice of things afflicted Sam.</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s very strange,” he said.</p> - -<p>“What’s strange?”</p> - -<p>“I mean, I knew a man—a fellow—who—er—kissed a girl when he had only -just met her, and she was furious.”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” said Hash, leaping instantly at a plausible solution, “but then ’e -was probably a chap with a face<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_178" id="page_178">{178}</a></span> like Gawd-’elpus and hair growing out -of his ears. Naturally, no one wouldn’t like ’aving someone like that -kissing ’em.”</p> - -<p>Sam went upstairs to bed. Before retiring, he looked at himself in the -mirror long and earnestly. He turned his head sideways so that the light -shone upon his ears. He was conscious of a strange despondency.</p> - -<h3>§ 3</h3> - -<p>Kay lay in bed, thinking. Ever and anon a little chuckle escaped her. -She was feeling curiously happy to-night. The world seemed to have -become all of a sudden interesting and amusing. An odd, uncontrollable -impulse urged her to sing.</p> - -<p>She would not in any case have sung for long, for she was a considerate -girl, and the recollection would soon have come to her that there were -people hard by who were trying to get to sleep. But, as a matter of -fact, she sang only a mere bar or two, for even as she began, there came -a muffled banging on the wall—a petulant banging. Hash Todhunter loved -his Claire, but he was not prepared to put up with this sort of thing. -Three doughty buffets he dealt the wall with the heel of a number-eleven -shoe.</p> - -<p>Kay sang no more. She turned out the light and lay in the darkness, her -face set.</p> - -<p>Silence fell upon San Rafael and Mon Repos. And then, from somewhere in -the recesses of the latter, a strange, bansheelike wailing began. Amy -was homesick.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179">{179}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN<br /><br /> -<small>ACTIVITIES OF THE DOG AMY</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HE day that followed Mr. Braddock’s dinner party dawned on a world -shrouded in wet white fog. By eight o’clock, however, this had thinned -to a soft, pearly veil that hung clingingly to the tree tops and -lingered about the grass of the lawn in little spiderwebs of moisture. -And when Kay Derrick came out into the garden, a quarter of an hour -later, the September sun was already beginning to pierce the mist with -hints of a wonderful day to come.</p> - -<p>It was the sort of morning which should have bred happiness and quiet -content, but Kay had waked in a mood of irritated hostility which fine -weather could not dispel. What had happened overnight had stung her to a -militant resentment, and sleep had not removed this.</p> - -<p>Possibly this was because her sleep, like that of everyone else in the -neighbourhood, had been disturbed and intermittent. From midnight until -two in the morning the dog Amy had given a spirited imitation of ten -dogs being torn asunder by red-hot pincers. At two, Hash Todhunter had -risen reluctantly from his bed, and arming himself with the -number-eleven shoe mentioned in the previous chapter, had reasoned with -her. This had produced a brief respite, but by a quar<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_180" id="page_180">{180}</a></span>ter of three large -numbers of dogs were once more being massacred on the premises of Mon -Repos, that ill-named house.</p> - -<p>At three, Sam went down; and being a young man who liked dogs and saw -their point of view, tried diplomacy. This took the shape of the remains -of a leg of mutton and it worked like a charm. Amy finished the leg of -mutton and fell into a surfeited slumber, and peace descended on -Burberry Road.</p> - -<p>Kay paced the gravel path with hard feelings, which were not removed by -the appearance a few moments later of Sam, clad in flannels and a -sweater. Sam, his back to her and his face to the sun, began to fling -himself about in a forceful and hygienic manner; and Kay, interested in -spite of herself, came to the fence to watch him. She was angry with -him, for no girl likes to have her singing criticised by bangs upon the -wall; but nevertheless she could not entirely check a faint feeling of -approval as she watched him. A country-bred girl, Kay liked men to be -strong and of the open air; and Sam, whatever his moral defects, was a -fine physical specimen. He looked fit and hard and sinewy.</p> - -<p>Presently, in the course of a complicated movement which involved -circular swinging from the waist, his eye fell upon her. He straightened -himself and came over to the fence, flushed and tousled and healthy.</p> - -<p>“Good morning,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Good morning,” said Kay coldly. “I want to apologise, Mr. Shotter. I’m -afraid my singing disturbed you last night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181">{181}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Good Lord!” said Sam. “Was that you? I thought it was the dog.”</p> - -<p>“I stopped directly you banged on the wall.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t bang on any wall. It must have been Hash.”</p> - -<p>“Hash?”</p> - -<p>“Hash Todhunter, the man who cooks for me—and, oh, yes, who chirrups at -you out of trees. I got your note and spoke to him about it. He -explained that he had mistaken you for your maid, Claire. It’s rather a -romantic story. He’s engaged to her.”</p> - -<p>“Engaged!”</p> - -<p>“That’s just what I said when he told me, and in just that tone of -voice. I was surprised. I gather, however, that Hash is what you would -call a quick worker. He tells me he has a way with him. According to his -story, he kissed her, and after that everything was nice and matey.”</p> - -<p>Kay flushed faintly.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” she said.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>There was a silence. The San Rafael kitten, which had been playing in -the grass, approached and rubbed a wet head against Kay’s ankle.</p> - -<p>“Well, I must be going in,” said Kay. “Claire is in bed with one of her -neuralgic headaches and I have to cook my uncle’s breakfast.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, really? Let me lend you Todhunter.”</p> - -<p>“No, thanks.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you’re wise. Apart from dry hash, he’s a rotten cook.”</p> - -<p>“So is Claire.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182">{182}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Really? What a battle of giants it will be when they start cooking for -each other!”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>Kay stooped and tickled the kitten under the ear, then walked quickly -toward the house. The kitten, having subjected Sam to a long and -critical scrutiny, decided that he promised little entertainment to an -active-minded cat and galloped off in pursuit of a leaf. Sam sighed and -went in to have a bath.</p> - -<p>Some little time later, the back door of Mon Repos opened from within as -if urged by some irresistible force, and the dog Amy came out to take -the morning air.</p> - -<p>Dogs are creatures of swiftly changing moods. Only a few hours before, -Amy, in the grip of a dreadful depression caused by leaving the public -house where she had spent her girlhood—for, in case the fact is of -interest to anyone, Hash had bought her for five shillings from the -proprietor of the Blue Anchor at Tulse Hill—had been making the night -hideous with her lamentations. Like Rachel, she had mourned and would -not be comforted. But now, to judge from her manner and a certain -jauntiness in her walk, she had completely resigned herself to the life -of exile. She scratched the turf and sniffed the shrubs with the air of -a lady of property taking a stroll round her estates. And when Hash, who -did not easily forgive, flung an egg at her out of the kitchen window so -that it burst before her on the gravel, she ate the remains -lightheartedly, as one who feels that the day is beginning well.</p> - -<p>The only flaw in the scheme of things seemed to her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183">{183}</a></span> to consist in a -lack of society. By nature sociable, she yearned for company, and for -some minutes roamed the garden in quest of it. She found a snail under a -laurel bush, but snails are reserved creatures, self-centred and -occupied with their own affairs, and this one cut Amy dead, retreating -into its shell with a frigid aloofness which made anything in the nature -of camaraderie out of the question.</p> - -<p>She returned to the path, and became interested in the wooden structure -that ran along it. Rearing herself up to a majestic height and placing -her paws on this, she looked over and immediately experienced all the -emotions of stout Balboa when with eagle eyes he stared at the Pacific. -It is not indeed, too much to say that Amy at that moment felt like some -watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken; for not only -was there a complete new world on the other side of this wooden -structure but on the grass in the middle of it was a fascinating kitten -running round in circles after its tail.</p> - -<p>Amy had seen enough. She would have preferred another dog to chat with; -but failing that, a kitten made an admirable substitute. She adored -kittens. At the Blue Anchor there had been seven, all intimate friends -of hers, who looked upon her body as a recreation ground and her massive -tail as a perpetual object of the chase. With a heave of her powerful -hind legs, she hoisted herself over the fence and, descending on the -other side like the delivery of half a ton of coal, bounded at the -kitten, full of good feeling. And the kitten, after one brief, shocked -stare, charged madly at the fence and scrambled up it into the branches -of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184">{184}</a></span> the tree from which Hash Todhunter had done his recent chirruping.</p> - -<p>Amy came to the foot of the tree and looked up, perplexed. She could -make nothing of this. It is not given to dogs any more than to men to -see themselves as others see them, and it never occurred to her for an -instant that there was in her appearance anything that might be alarming -to a high-strung young cat. But a dog cannot have a bloodhound-Airedale -father and a Great Dane-Labrador mother without acquiring a certain -physique. The kitten, peering down through the branches, congratulated -itself on a narrow escape from death and climbed higher. And at this -point Kay came out into the garden.</p> - -<p>“Hullo, dog,” said Kay. “What are you doing here?”</p> - -<p>Amy was glad to see Kay. She was a shortsighted dog and took her for the -daughter of the host of the Blue Boar who had been wont to give her her -meals. She left the tree and galloped toward her. And Kay, who had been -brought up with dogs from childhood and knew the correct procedure to be -observed when meeting a strange one, welcomed her becomingly. Hash, -hurrying out on observing Amy leap the fence, found himself a witness of -what practically amounted to a feast of reason and a flow of soul. That -is to say, Amy was lying restfully on her back with her legs in the air -and Kay was thumping her chest.</p> - -<p>“I hope the dog is not annoying you, lady,” said Hash in his best -<i>preux-chevalier</i> manner.</p> - -<p>Kay looked up and perceived the man who had chirruped at her from the -tree. Having contracted to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185">{185}</a></span> marry into San Rafael, he had ceased to be -an alien and had become something in the nature of one of the family; so -she smiled amiably at him, conscious the while of a passing wonder that -Claire’s heart should have been ensnared by one who, whatever his -merits, was notably deficient in conventional good looks.</p> - -<p>“Not at all, thank you,” she said. “Is he your dog?”</p> - -<p>“She,” corrected Hash. “Yes, miss.”</p> - -<p>“She’s a nice dog.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, miss,” said Hash, but with little heartiness.</p> - -<p>“I hope she won’t frighten my kitten, though. It’s out in the garden -somewhere. I can hear it mewing.”</p> - -<p>Amy could hear the mewing too; and still hopeful that an understanding -might be reached, she at once proceeded to the tree and endeavoured to -jump to the top of it. In this enterprise she fell short by some fifty -feet, but she jumped high enough to send the kitten scrambling into the -upper branches.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” cried Kay, appreciating the situation.</p> - -<p>Hash also appreciated the situation; and being a man of deeds rather -than words, vaulted over the fence and kicked Amy in the lower ribs. -Amy, her womanly feelings wounded, shot back into her own garden, where -she stood looking plaintively on with her forepaws on the fence. -Treatment like this was novel to her, for at the Blue Anchor she had -been something of a popular pet; and it seemed to her that she had -fallen among tough citizens. She expressed a not unnatural pique by -throwing her head back and uttering a loud, moaning cry like an ocean -liner in a fog. Hearing which, the kitten, which had been in two minds -about risking a descent, climbed higher.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186">{186}</a></span></p> - -<p>“What shall we do?” said Kay.</p> - -<p>“Shut up!” bellowed Hash. “Not you, miss,” he hastened to add with a -gallant smirk. “I was speaking to the dog.” He found a clod of earth and -flung it peevishly at Amy, who wrinkled her forehead thoughtfully as it -flew by, but made no move. Amy’s whole attitude now was that of one who -has got a front-row seat and means to keep it. “The ’ole thing ’ere,” -explained Hash, “is that that there cat is scared to come down, bein’ -frightened of this ’ere dog.”</p> - -<p>And having cleared up what might otherwise have remained a permanent -mystery, he plucked a blade of grass and chewed reflectively.</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” said Kay, with an ingratiating smile, “if you would mind -climbing up and getting her.”</p> - -<p>Hash stared at her amazedly. Her smile, which was wont to have so much -effect on so many people, left him cold. It was the silliest suggestion -he had ever heard in his life.</p> - -<p>“Me?” he said, marvelling. “You mean me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Climb up this ’ere tree and fetch that there cat?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Lady,” said Hash, “do you think I’m an acrobat or something?”</p> - -<p>Kay bit her lips. Then, looking over the fence, she observed Sam -approaching.</p> - -<p>“Anything wrong?” said Sam.</p> - -<p>Kay regarded him with mixed feelings. She had an uneasy foreboding that -it might be injudicious to put herself under an obligation to a young -man so obviously belonging to the class of those who, given<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187">{187}</a></span> an inch, -take an ell. On the other hand, the kitten, mewing piteously, had -plainly got itself into a situation from which only skilled assistance -could release it. She eyed Sam doubtfully.</p> - -<p>“Your dog has frightened my kitten up the tree,” she said.</p> - -<p>A wave of emotion poured over Sam. Only yesterday he had been correcting -the proofs of a short story designed for a forthcoming issue of Pyke’s -<i>Home Companion</i>—<i>Celia’s Airman</i>, by Louise G. Boffin—and had curled -his lip with superior masculine scorn at what had seemed to him the -naïve sentimentality of its central theme. Celia had quarrelled with her -lover, a young wing commander in the air force, and they had become -reconciled owing to the latter saving her canary. In a mad moment in -which his critical faculties must have been completely blurred, Sam had -thought the situation far-fetched; but now he offered up a silent -apology to Miss Boffin, realising that it was from the sheer, stark -facts of life that she had drawn her inspiration.</p> - -<p>“You want her brought down?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I do.”</p> - -<p>“Leave it to me,” said Sam. “Leave it absolutely to me—leave the whole -thing entirely and completely to me.”</p> - -<p>“It’s awfully good of you.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all,” said Sam tenderly. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for -you—nothing. I was saying to myself only just now——”</p> - -<p>“I shouldn’t,” said Hash heavily. “Only go break<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188">{188}</a></span>ing your neck. What we -ought to do ’ere is to stand under the tree and chirrup.”</p> - -<p>Sam frowned.</p> - -<p>“You appear to me, Hash,” he said with some severity, “to think that -your mission in life is to chirrup. If you devoted half the time to work -that you do to practicing your chirruping, Mon Repos would be a better -and a sweeter place.”</p> - -<p>He hoisted himself into the tree and began to climb rapidly. So much -progress did he make that when, a few moments later, Kay called to him, -he could not distinguish her words. He scrambled down again.</p> - -<p>“What did you say?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“I only said take care,” said Kay.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” said Sam.</p> - -<p>He resumed his climb. Hash followed him with a pessimistic eye.</p> - -<p>“A cousin of mine broke two ribs playing this sort of silly game,” he -said moodily. “Light-haired feller named George Turner. Had a job -pruning the ellums on a gentleman’s place down Chigwell way. Two ribs he -broke, besides a number of contusions.”</p> - -<p>He was aggrieved to find that Kay was not giving that attention to the -story which its drama and human interest deserved.</p> - -<p>“Two ribs,” he repeated in a louder voice. “Also cuts, scratches and -contusions. Ellums are treacherous things. You think the branches is all -right, but lean your weight on ’em and they snap. That’s an ellum he’s -climbing now.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, be quiet!” said Kay nervously. She was following Sam’s movements as -tensely as ever Celia fol<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_189" id="page_189">{189}</a></span>lowed her airman’s. It did look horribly -dangerous, what he was doing.</p> - -<p>“The proper thing we ought to have done ’ere was to have took a blanket -and a ladder and a pole and to have held the blanket spread out and -climbed the ladder and prodded at that there cat with the pole, same as -they do at fires,” said Hash, casting an unwarrantable slur on the -humane methods of the fire brigade.</p> - -<p>“Oh, well done!” cried Kay.</p> - -<p>Sam was now operating in the topmost branches, and the kitten, not being -able to retreat farther, had just come within reach of his groping hand. -Having regarded him suspiciously for some moments and registered a -formal protest against the proceedings by making a noise like an -exploding soda-water bottle, it now allowed itself to be picked up and -buttoned into his coat.</p> - -<p>“Splendid!” shouted Kay.</p> - -<p>“What?” bellowed Sam, peering down.</p> - -<p>“I said splendid!” roared Kay.</p> - -<p>“The lady said splendid!” yelled Hash, in a voice strengthened by long -practice in announcing dinner in the midst of hurricanes. He turned to -Kay with a mournful shaking of the head, his bearing that of the man who -has tried to put a brave face on the matter, but feels the uselessness -of affecting further optimism. “It’s now that’s the dangerous part, -miss,” he said. “The coming down, what I mean. I don’t say the climbing -up of one of these ’ere ellums is safe—not what you would call safe; -but it’s when you’re coming down that the nasty accidents occur. My -cousin was coming down when he broke his two ribs and got all<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_190" id="page_190">{190}</a></span> them -contusions. George Turner his name was—a light-haired feller, and he -broke two ribs and had to have seven stitches sewed in him.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” cried Kay.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said Hash.</p> - -<p>He spoke with something of the smug self-satisfaction of the prophet -whose predicted disasters come off as per schedule. Half-way down the -tree, Sam, like Mr. Turner, had found proof of the treachery of ellums. -He had rested his weight on a branch which looked solid, felt solid and -should have been solid, and it had snapped under him. For one breathless -moment he seemed to be about to shoot down like Lucifer, then he -snatched at another bough and checked his fall.</p> - -<p>This time the bough held. It was as if the elm, having played its -practical joke and failed, had become discouraged. Hash, with something -of the feelings of a spectator in the gallery at a melodrama who sees -the big scene fall flat, watched his friend and employer reach the -lowest branch and drop safely to the ground. The record of George Turner -still remained a mark for other climbers to shoot at.</p> - -<p>Kay was not a girl who wept easily, but she felt strangely close to -tears. She removed the agitated kitten from Sam’s coat and put it on the -grass, where it immediately made another spirited attempt to climb the -tree. Foiled in this, it raced for the coal cellar and disappeared from -the social life of San Rafael until late in the afternoon.</p> - -<p>“Your poor hands!” said Kay.</p> - -<p>Sam regarded his palms with some surprise. In the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_191" id="page_191">{191}</a></span> excitement of the -recent passage he had been unaware of injury.</p> - -<p>“It’s all right,” he said. “Only skinned a little.”</p> - -<p>Hash would have none of this airy indifference.</p> - -<p>“Ah,” he said, “and the next thing you know you’ll be getting dirt into -’em and going down with lockjaw. I had an uncle what got dirt into a cut -’and, and three days later we were buying our blacks for him.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” gasped Kay.</p> - -<p>“Two and a half, really,” said Hash. “Because he expired toward -evening.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll run and get a sponge and a basin,” said Kay in agitation.</p> - -<p>“That’s awfully good of you,” said Sam. Oh, woman, he felt, in our hours -of ease uncertain, coy and hard to please; when pain and anguish rack -the brow, a ministering angel thou. And he nearly said as much.</p> - -<p>“You don’t want to do that, miss,” said Hash. “Much simpler for him to -come indoors and put ’em under the tap.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps that would be better,” agreed Kay.</p> - -<p>Sam regarded his practical-minded subordinate with something of the -injured loathing which his cooking had occasionally caused to appear on -the faces of dainty feeders in the fo’c’sle of the <i>Araminta</i>.</p> - -<p>“This isn’t your busy day, Hash, I take it?” he said coldly.</p> - -<p>“Pardon?”</p> - -<p>“I said, you seem to be taking life pretty easily. Why don’t you do a -little work sometimes? If you imagine you’re a lily of the field, look -in the glass and adjust that impression.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_192" id="page_192">{192}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Hash drew himself up, wounded.</p> - -<p>“I’m only stayin’ ’ere to ’elp and encourage,” he said stiffly. “Now -that what I might call the peril is over, there’s nothing to keep me.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing,” agreed Sam cordially.</p> - -<p>“I’ll be going.”</p> - -<p>“You know your way,” said Sam. He turned to Kay. “Hash is an ass,” he -said. “Put them under the tap, indeed! These hands need careful -dressing.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps they do,” Kay agreed.</p> - -<p>“They most certainly do.”</p> - -<p>“Shall we go in then?”</p> - -<p>“Without delay,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>“There,” said Kay, some ten minutes later. “I think that will be all -right.”</p> - -<p>The finest efforts of the most skilful surgeon could not have evoked -more enthusiasm from her patient. Sam regarded his bathed and -sticking-plastered hands with an admiration that was almost ecstatic.</p> - -<p>“You’ve had training in this sort of thing,” he said.</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve never been a nurse?”</p> - -<p>“Never.”</p> - -<p>“Then,” said Sam, “it is pure genius. It is just one of those cases of -an amazing natural gift. You’ve probably saved my life. Oh, yes, you -have! Remember what Hash said about lockjaw.”</p> - -<p>“But I thought you thought Hash was an ass.”</p> - -<p>“In many ways, yes,” said Sam. “But on some points he has a certain -rugged common sense. He——”</p> - -<p>“Won’t you be awfully late for the office?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_193" id="page_193">{193}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“For the what? Oh! Well, yes, I suppose I ought to be going there. But -I’ve got to have breakfast first.”</p> - -<p>“Well, hurry then. My uncle will be wondering what has become of you.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. What a delightful man your uncle is!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, isn’t he! Good-bye.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know when I’ve met a man I respected more.”</p> - -<p>“This will be wonderful news for him.”</p> - -<p>“So kind.”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“So patient with me.”</p> - -<p>“I expect he needs to be.”</p> - -<p>“The sort of man it’s a treat to work with.”</p> - -<p>“If you hurry you’ll be able to work with him all the sooner.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Sam; “yes. Er—is there any message I can give him?”</p> - -<p>“No, thanks.”</p> - -<p>“Ah? Well, then look here,” said Sam, “would you care to come and have -lunch somewhere to-day?”</p> - -<p>Kay hesitated. Then her eyes fell on those sticking-plastered hands and -she melted. After all, when a young man has been displaying great -heroism in her service, a girl must do the decent thing.</p> - -<p>“I should like to,” she said.</p> - -<p>“The Savoy Grill at 1:30?”</p> - -<p>“All right. Are you going to bring my uncle along?”</p> - -<p>Sam started.</p> - -<p>“Why—er—that would be splendid, wouldn’t it?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_194" id="page_194">{194}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I forgot. He’s lunching with a man to-day at the Press Club.”</p> - -<p>“Is he?” said Sam. “Is he really?”</p> - -<p>His affection and respect for Mr. Matthew Wrenn increased to an almost -overwhelming degree. He went back to Mon Repos feeling that it was the -presence in the world of men like Matthew Wrenn that gave the lie to -pessimism concerning the future of the human race.</p> - -<p>Kay, meanwhile, in her rôle of understudy to Claire Lippett, who had -just issued a bulletin to the effect that the neuralgic pains were -diminishing and that she hoped to be up and about by midday, proceeded -to an energetic dusting of the house. As a rule, she hated this sort of -work, but to-day a strange feeling of gaiety stimulated her. She found -herself looking forward to the lunch at the Savoy with something of the -eagerness which, as a child, she had felt at the approach of a party. -Reluctant to attribute this to the charms of a young man whom less than -twenty-four hours ago she had heartily disliked, she decided that it -must be the prospect of once more enjoying good cooking in pleasant -surroundings that was causing her excitement. Until recently she had -taken her midday meal at the home of Mrs. Winnington-Bates, and, as with -a celebrated chewing gum, the taste lingered.</p> - -<p>She finished her operations in the dining room and made her way to the -drawing-room. Here the photograph of herself on the mantelpiece -attracted her attention. She picked it up and stood gazing at it -earnestly.</p> - -<p>A sharp double rap on the front door broke in on<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_195" id="page_195">{195}</a></span> her reflections. It -was the postman with the second delivery, and he had rapped because -among his letters for San Rafael was one addressed to Kay on which the -writer had omitted to place a stamp. Kay paid the twopence and took the -letter back with her to the drawing-room, hoping that the interest of -its contents would justify the financial outlay.</p> - -<p>Inspecting them, she decided that they did. The letter was from -Willoughby Braddock; and Mr. Braddock, both writing and expressing -himself rather badly, desired to know if Kay could see her way to -marrying him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_196" id="page_196">{196}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN<br /><br /> -<small>DISCUSSION AT A LUNCHEON TABLE</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HE little lobby of the Savoy grill-room that opens on to Savoy Court is -a restful place for meditation; and Kay, arriving there at twenty -minutes past one, was glad that she was early. She needed solitude, and -regretted that in another ten minutes Sam would come in and deprive her -of it. Ever since she had received his letter she had been pondering -deeply on the matter of Willoughby Braddock, but had not yet succeeded -in reaching a definite conclusion either in his favour or against him.</p> - -<p>In his favour stood the fact that he had been a pleasant factor in her -life as far back as she could remember. She had bird’s-nested with him -on spring afternoons, she had played the mild card games of childhood -with him on winter evenings, and—as has been stated—she had sat in -trees and criticised with incisive power his habit of wearing bed socks. -These things count. Marrying Willoughby would undeniably impart a sort -of restful continuity to life. On the other hand——</p> - -<p>“Hullo!”</p> - -<p>A young man, entering the lobby, had halted before her. For a moment she -supposed that it was Sam, come to bid her to the feast; then, emerging -from her thoughts, she looked up and perceived that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_197" id="page_197">{197}</a></span> blot on the body -politic, Claude Winnington-Bates.</p> - -<p>He was looking down at her with a sort of sheepish impudence, as a man -will when he encounters unexpectedly a girl who in the not distant past -has blacked his eye with a heavy volume of theological speculation. He -was a slim young man, dressed in the height of fashion. His mouth was -small and furtive, his eyes flickered with a kind of stupid slyness, and -his hair, which mounted his head in a series of ridges or terraces, -shone with the unguent affected by the young lads of the town. A messy -spectacle.</p> - -<p>“Hullo,” he said. “Waiting for someone?”</p> - -<p>For a brief, wistful instant Kay wished that the years could roll back, -making her young enough to be permitted to say some of the things she -had said to Willoughby Braddock on that summer morning long ago when the -topic of bed socks had come up between them. Being now of an age of -discretion and so debarred from that rich eloquence, she contented -herself with looking through him and saying nothing.</p> - -<p>The treatment was not effective. Claude sat down on the lounge beside -her.</p> - -<p>“I say, you know,” he urged, “there’s no need to be ratty. I mean to -say——”</p> - -<p>Kay abandoned her policy of silence.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Bates,” she said, “do you remember a boy who was at school with you -named Shotter?”</p> - -<p>“Sam Shotter?” said Claude, delighted at her chattiness. “Oh, yes, -rather. I remember Sam Shotter. Rather a bad show, that. I saw him the -other night and he was absolutely——”</p> - -<p>“He’s coming here in a minute or two. And if he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_198" id="page_198">{198}</a></span> finds you sitting on -this lounge and I explain to him that you have been annoying me, he will -probably tear you into little bits. I should go, if I were you.”</p> - -<p>Claude Bates went. Indeed, the verb but feebly expresses the celerity of -his movement. One moment he was lolling on the lounge; the next he had -ceased to be and the lobby was absolutely free from him. Kay, looking -over her shoulder into the grill-room, observed him drop into a chair -and mop his forehead with a handkerchief.</p> - -<p>She returned to her thoughts.</p> - -<p>The advent of Claude had given them a new turn; or, rather, it had -brought prominently before her mind what until then had only lurked at -the back of it—the matter of Willoughby Braddock’s financial status. -Willoughby Braddock was a very rich man; the girl who became Mrs. -Willoughby Braddock would be a very rich woman. She would, that is to -say, step automatically into a position in life where the prowling -Claude Bateses of the world would cease to be an annoyance. And this was -beyond a doubt another point in Mr. Braddock’s favour.</p> - -<p>Willoughby, moreover, was rich in the right way, in the Midways fashion, -with the richness that went with old greystone houses and old green -parks and all the comfortable joy of the English country. He could give -her the kind of life she had grown up in and loved. But on the other -hand——</p> - -<p>Kay stared thoughtfully before her; and, staring, was aware of Sam -hurrying through the swing door.</p> - -<p>“I’m not late, am I?” said Sam anxiously.</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t think so.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_199" id="page_199">{199}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Then come along. Golly, what a corking day!”</p> - -<p>He shepherded her solicitously into the grill-room and made for a table -by the large window that looks out onto the court. A cloakroom waiter, -who had padded silently upon their trail, collected his hat and stick -and withdrew with the air of a leopard that has made a good kill.</p> - -<p>“Nice-looking chap,” said Sam, following him with an appreciative eye.</p> - -<p>“You seem to be approving of everything and everybody this morning.”</p> - -<p>“I am. This is the maddest, merriest day of all the glad New Year, and -you can quote me as saying so. Now then, what is it to be?”</p> - -<p>Having finished his ordering, a task which he approached on a lavish -scale, Sam leaned forward and gazed fondly at his guest.</p> - -<p>“Gosh!” he said rapturously. “I never thought, when I was sitting in -that fishing hut staring at your photograph, that only a month or two -later I’d be having lunch with you at the Savoy.”</p> - -<p>Kay was a little startled. Her brief acquaintance with him had taught -her that Sam was a man of what might be called direct methods, but she -had never expected that he would be quite so direct as this. In his -lexicon there appeared to be no such words as “reticence” and “finesse.”</p> - -<p>“What fishing hut was that?” she asked, feeling rather like a fireman -turning a leaky hose on a briskly burning warehouse full of explosives.</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t know it. It’s the third on the left as you enter Canada.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_200" id="page_200">{200}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Are you fond of fishing?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. But we won’t talk about that, if you don’t mind. Let’s stick to -the photograph.”</p> - -<p>“You keep talking about a photograph and I don’t in the least know what -you mean.”</p> - -<p>“The photograph I was speaking of at the dinner last night.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, the one your friend found—of some girl.”</p> - -<p>“It wasn’t a friend; it was me. And it wasn’t some girl; it was you.”</p> - -<p>Here the waiter intruded, bearing <i>hors d’œuvres</i>. Kay lingered over her -selection, but the passage of time had not the effect of diverting her -host from his chosen topic. Kay began to feel that nothing short of an -earthquake would do that, and probably not even an earthquake unless it -completely wrecked the grill-room.</p> - -<p>“I remember the first time I saw that photograph.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder which it was,” said Kay casually.</p> - -<p>“It was——”</p> - -<p>“So long as it wasn’t the one of me sitting in a sea shell at the age of -two, I don’t mind.”</p> - -<p>“It was——”</p> - -<p>“They told me that if I was very good and sat very still, I should see a -bird come out of the camera. I don’t believe it ever did. And why they -let me appear in a costume like that, even at the age of two, I can’t -imagine.”</p> - -<p>“It was the one of you in a riding habit, standing by your horse.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that one?... I think I will take eggs after all.”</p> - -<p>“Eggs? What eggs?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_201" id="page_201">{201}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. <i>Œufs à la</i> something, weren’t they?”</p> - -<p>“Wait!” said Sam. He spoke as one groping his way through a maze. -“Somehow or other we seem to have got onto the subject of eggs. I don’t -want to talk about eggs.”</p> - -<p>“Though I’m not positive it was à la something. I believe it was <i>œufs -Marseillaises</i> or some word like that. Anyhow, just call the waiter and -say eggs.”</p> - -<p>Sam called the waiter and said eggs. The waiter appeared not only to -understand but to be gratified.</p> - -<p>“The first time I saw that photograph——” he resumed.</p> - -<p>“I wonder why they call those eggs <i>œufs Marseillaises</i>,” said Kay -pensively. “Do you think it’s a special sort of egg they have in -Marseilles.”</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t say. You know,” said Sam, “I’m not really frightfully -interested in eggs.”</p> - -<p>“Have you ever been in Marseilles?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I went there once with the <i>Araminta</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Who is <i>Araminta</i>?”</p> - -<p>“The <i>Araminta</i>. A tramp steamer I’ve made one or two trips on.”</p> - -<p>“What fun! Tell me all about your trips on the <i>Araminta</i>.”</p> - -<p>“There’s nothing to tell.”</p> - -<p>“Was that where you met the man you call Hash?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. He was the cook. Weren’t you surprised,” said Sam, beginning to -see his way, “when you heard that he was engaged to Claire?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Kay, regretting that she had shown interest in tramp -steamers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_202" id="page_202">{202}</a></span></p> - -<p>“It just shows——”</p> - -<p>“I suppose the drawback to going about on small boats like that is the -food. It’s difficult to get fresh vegetables, I should think—and eggs.”</p> - -<p>“Life isn’t all eggs,” said Sam desperately.</p> - -<p>The head waiter, a paternal man, halted at the table and inquired if -everything was to the satisfaction of the lady and gentleman. The lady -replied brightly that everything was perfect. The gentleman grunted.</p> - -<p>“They’re very nice here,” said Kay. “They make you feel as if they were -fond of you.”</p> - -<p>“If they weren’t nice to you,” said Sam vehemently, “they ought to be -shot. And I’d like to see the fellow who wouldn’t be fond of you.”</p> - -<p>Kay began to have a sense of defeat, not unlike that which comes to a -scientific boxer who has held off a rushing opponent for several rounds -and feels himself weakening.</p> - -<p>“The first time I saw that photograph,” said Sam, “was one night when I -had come in tired out after a day’s fishing.”</p> - -<p>“Talking about fish——”</p> - -<p>“It was pretty dark in the hut, with only an oil lamp on the table, and -I didn’t notice it at first. Then, when I was having a smoke after -dinner, my eye caught something tacked up on the wall. I went across to -have a look, and, by Jove, I nearly dropped the lamp!”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“Why? Because it was such a shock.”</p> - -<p>“So hideous?”</p> - -<p>“So lovely, so radiant, so beautiful, so marvellous.”</p> - -<p>“I see.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_203" id="page_203">{203}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“So heavenly, so——”</p> - -<p>“Yes? There’s Claude Bates over at that table.”</p> - -<p>The effect of these words on her companion was so electrical that it -seemed to Kay that she had at last discovered a theme which would take -his mind off other and disconcerting topics. Sam turned a dull crimson; -his eyes hardened; his jaw protruded; he struggled for speech.</p> - -<p>“The tick! The blister! The blighter! The worm! The pest! The hound! The -bounder!” he cried. “Where is he?”</p> - -<p>He twisted round in his chair, and having located the companion of his -boyhood, gazed at the back of his ridged and shining head with a -malevolent scowl. Then, taking up a hard and nobby roll, he poised it -lovingly.</p> - -<p>“You mustn’t.”</p> - -<p>“Just this one!”</p> - -<p>“No!”</p> - -<p>“Very well.”</p> - -<p>Sam threw down the roll with a gesture of resignation. Kay looked at him -in alarm.</p> - -<p>“I had no idea you disliked him so much as that!”</p> - -<p>“He ought to have his neck broken.”</p> - -<p>“Haven’t you forgiven him yet for stealing jam sandwiches at school?”</p> - -<p>“It has nothing whatever to do with jam sandwiches. If you really want -to know why I loathe and detest the little beast, it is because he had -the nerve—the audacity—the insolence—the immortal rind -to—to—er”—he choked—“to kiss you. Blast him!” said Sam, wholly -forgetting the dictates of all good eti<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_204" id="page_204">{204}</a></span>quette books respecting the kind -of language suitable in the presence of the other sex.</p> - -<p>Kay gasped. It is embarrassing for a girl to find what she had supposed -to be her most intimate private affairs suddenly become, to all -appearance, public property.</p> - -<p>“How do you know that?” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Your uncle told me this morning.”</p> - -<p>“He had no business to.”</p> - -<p>“Well, he did. And what it all boils down to,” said Sam, “is this—will -you marry me?”</p> - -<p>“Will I—what?”</p> - -<p>“Marry me.”</p> - -<p>For a moment Kay stared speechlessly; then, throwing her head back, she -gave out a short, sharp scream of laughter which made a luncher at the -next table stab himself in the cheek with an oyster fork. The luncher -looked at her reproachfully. So did Sam.</p> - -<p>“You seem amused,” he said coldly.</p> - -<p>“Of course I’m amused,” said Kay.</p> - -<p>Her eyes were sparkling, and that little dimple on her chin which had so -excited Sam’s admiration when seen in photographic reproduction had -become a large dimple. Sam tickled her sense of humour. He appealed to -her in precisely the same way as the dog Amy had appealed to her in the -garden that morning.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see why,” said Sam. “There’s nothing funny about it. It’s -monstrous that you should be going about at the mercy of every bounder -who takes it into his head to insult you. The idea of a fellow with -marcelled hair having the crust to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_205" id="page_205">{205}</a></span>——”</p> - -<p>He paused. He simply could not mention that awful word again.</p> - -<p>“——kiss me?” said Kay. “Well, you did.”</p> - -<p>“That,” said Sam with dignity, “was different. That was—er—well, in -short, different. The fact remains that you need somebody to look after -you, to protect you.”</p> - -<p>“And you chivalrously offer to do it? I call that awfully nice of you, -but—well, don’t you think it’s rather absurd?”</p> - -<p>“I see nothing absurd in it at all.”</p> - -<p>“How many times have you seen me in your life?”</p> - -<p>“Thousands!”</p> - -<p>“What? Oh, I was forgetting the photograph. But do photographs really -count?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Mine can’t have counted much, if the first thing you did was to tell -your friend Cordelia Blair about it and say she might use it as a -story.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t. I only said that at dinner to—to introduce the subject. As -if I would have dreamed of talking about you to anybody! And she isn’t a -friend of mine.”</p> - -<p>“But you kissed her.”</p> - -<p>“I did not kiss her.”</p> - -<p>“My uncle insists that you did. He says he heard horrible sounds of -Bohemian revelry going on in the outer office and then you came in and -said the lady was soothed.”</p> - -<p>“Your uncle talks too much,” said Sam severely.</p> - -<p>“Just what I was thinking a little while ago. But still, if he tells you -my secrets, it’s only fair that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_206" id="page_206">{206}</a></span> should tell me yours.”</p> - -<p>Sam swallowed somewhat convulsively.</p> - -<p>“If you really want to know what happened, I’ll tell you. I did not kiss -that ghastly Blair pipsqueak. She kissed me.”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“She kissed me,” repeated Sam doggedly. “I had been laying it on pretty -thick about how much I admired her work, and suddenly she said, ‘Oh, you -dear boy!’ and flung her loathsome arms round my neck. What could I do? -I might have uppercut her as she bored in, but, short of that, there -wasn’t any way of stopping her.”</p> - -<p>A look of shocked sympathy came into Kay’s face.</p> - -<p>“It’s monstrous,” she said, “that you should be going about at the mercy -of every female novelist who takes it into her head to insult you. You -need somebody to look after you, to protect you——”</p> - -<p>Sam’s dignity, never a very durable article, collapsed.</p> - -<p>“You’re quite right,” he said. “Well then——”</p> - -<p>Kay shook her head.</p> - -<p>“No, I’m not going to volunteer. Whatever your friend Cordelia Blair may -say in her stories, girls don’t marry men they’ve only seen twice in -their lives.”</p> - -<p>“This is the fourth time you’ve seen me.”</p> - -<p>“Or even four times.”</p> - -<p>“I knew a man in America who met a girl at a party one night and married -her next morning.”</p> - -<p>“And they were divorced the week after, I should think. No, Mr. -Shotter——”</p> - -<p>“You may call me Sam.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_207" id="page_207">{207}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“I suppose I ought to after this. No, Sam, I will not marry you. Thanks -ever so much for asking me, of course.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know you well enough.”</p> - -<p>“I feel as if I had known you all my life.”</p> - -<p>“Do you?”</p> - -<p>“I feel as if we had been destined for each other from the beginning of -time.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you were a king in Babylon and I was a Christian slave.”</p> - -<p>“I shouldn’t wonder. And what is more, I’ll tell you something. When I -was in America, before I had ever dreamed of coming over to England, a -palmist told me that I was shortly about to take a long journey, at the -end of which I should meet a fair girl.”</p> - -<p>“You can’t believe what those palmists say.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, but everything else that this one told me was absolutely true.”</p> - -<p>“Yes?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. She said I had a rare, spiritual nature and a sterling character -and was beloved by all; but that people meeting me for the first time -sometimes failed to appreciate me——”</p> - -<p>“I certainly did.”</p> - -<p>“——because I had such hidden depths.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, was that the reason?”</p> - -<p>“Well, that shows you.”</p> - -<p>“Did she tell you anything else?”</p> - -<p>“Something about bewaring of a dark man, but nothing of importance. -Still, I don’t call it a bad fifty<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_208" id="page_208">{208}</a></span> cents’ worth.”</p> - -<p>“Did she say that you were going to marry this girl?”</p> - -<p>“She did—explicitly.”</p> - -<p>“Then the idea, as I understand it, is that you want me to marry you so -that you won’t feel you wasted your fifty cents. Is that it?”</p> - -<p>“Not precisely. You are overlooking the fact that I love you.” He looked -at her reproachfully. “Don’t laugh.”</p> - -<p>“Was I laughing?”</p> - -<p>“You were.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry. I oughtn’t to mock a strong man’s love, ought I?”</p> - -<p>“You oughtn’t to mock anybody’s love. Love’s a very wonderful thing. It -even made Hash look almost beautiful for a moment, and that’s going -some.”</p> - -<p>“When is it going to make you look beautiful?”</p> - -<p>“Hasn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Not yet.”</p> - -<p>“You must be patient.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll try to be, and in the meantime let us face this situation. Do you -know what a girl in a Cordelia Blair story would do if she were in my -place?”</p> - -<p>“Something darned silly, I expect.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all. She would do something very pretty and touching. She would -look at the man and smile tremulously and say, ‘I’m sorry, so—so sorry. -You have paid me the greatest compliment a man can pay a woman. But it -cannot be. So shall we be pals—just real pals?’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“And he would redden and go to Africa, I suppose.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_209" id="page_209">{209}</a></span></p> - -<p>“No. I should think he would just hang about and hope that some day she -might change her mind. Girls often do, you know.”</p> - -<p>She smiled and put out her hand. Sam, with a cold glance at the head -waiter, whom he considered to be standing much too near and looking much -too paternal, took it. He did more—he squeezed it. And an elderly -gentleman of Napoleonic presence, who had been lunching with a cabinet -minister in the main dining-room and was now walking through the court -on his way back to his office, saw the proceedings through the large -window and halted, spellbound.</p> - -<p>For a long instant he stood there, gaping. He saw Kay smile. He saw Sam -take her hand. He saw Sam smile. He saw Sam hold her hand. And then it -seemed to him that he had seen enough. Abandoning his intention of -walking down Fleet Street, he hailed a cab.</p> - -<p>“There’s Lord Tilbury,” said Kay, looking out.</p> - -<p>“Yes?” said Sam. He was not interested in Lord Tilbury.</p> - -<p>“Going back to work, I suppose. Isn’t it about time you were?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it is. You wouldn’t care to come along and have a chat with -your uncle?”</p> - -<p>“I may look in later. Just now I want to go to that messenger-boy office -in Northumberland Avenue and send off a note.”</p> - -<p>“Important?”</p> - -<p>“It is, rather,” said Kay. “Willoughby Braddock wanted me to do -something, and now I find that I shan’t be able to.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_210" id="page_210">{210}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>CHAPTER NINETEEN<br /><br /> -<small>LORD TILBURY ENGAGES AN ALLY</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">A</span>LTHOUGH Lord Tilbury had not seen much of what had passed between Kay -and Sam at the luncheon table, he had seen quite enough; and as he drove -back to Tilbury House in his cab he was thinking hard and bitter -thoughts of the duplicity of the modern girl. Here, he reflected, was -one who, encountered at dinner on a given night, had as good as stated -in set terms that she thoroughly disliked Sam Shotter. And on the very -next afternoon, there she was, lunching with this same Sam Shotter, -smiling at this same Sam Shotter and allowing this same Shotter to press -her hand. It all looked very black to Lord Tilbury, and the only -solution that presented itself to him was that the girl’s apparent -dislike of Sam on the previous night had been caused by a lovers’ -quarrel. He knew all about lovers’ quarrels, for his papers were full of -stories, both short and in serial form, that dealt with nothing else. -Oh, woman, woman! about summed up Lord Tilbury’s view of the affair.</p> - -<p>He was, he perceived, in an extraordinarily difficult position. As he -had explained to his sister Frances on the occasion of Sam’s first visit -to the Mammoth Publishing Company, a certain tactfulness and diplomacy<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_211" id="page_211">{211}</a></span> -in the handling of that disturbing young man were essential. He had not -been able, during his visit to America, to ascertain exactly how Sam -stood in the estimation of his uncle. The impression Lord Tilbury had -got was that Mr. Pynsent was fond of him. If, therefore, any -unpleasantness should occur which might lead to a breach between Sam and -the Mammoth Publishing Company, Mr. Pynsent might be expected to take -his nephew’s side, and this would be disastrous. Any steps, accordingly, -which were to be taken in connection with foiling the young man’s love -affair must be taken subtly and with stealth.</p> - -<p>That such steps were necessary it never occurred to Lord Tilbury for an -instant to doubt. His only standard when it came to judging his fellow -creatures was the money standard, and it would have seemed ridiculous to -him to suppose that any charm or moral worth that Kay might possess -could neutralise the fact that she had not a penny in the world. He took -it for granted that Mr. Pynsent would see eye to eye with him in this -matter.</p> - -<p>In these circumstances the helplessness of his position tormented him. -He paced the room in an agony of spirit. The very first move in his -campaign must obviously be to keep a watchful eye on Sam and note what -progress this deplorable affair of his was having. But Sam was in Valley -Fields and he was in London. What he required, felt Lord Tilbury, as he -ploughed to and fro over the carpet, his thumbs tucked into the armholes -of his waistcoat, his habit when in thought, was an ally. But what ally?</p> - -<p>A secret-service man. But what secret-service man?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_212" id="page_212">{212}</a></span> A properly -accredited spy, who, introduced by some means into the young man’s -house, could look, listen and make daily reports on his behaviour.</p> - -<p>But what spy?</p> - -<p>And then, suddenly, as he continued to perambulate, inspiration came to -Lord Tilbury. It seemed to him that the job in hand might have been -created to order for young Pilbeam.</p> - -<p>Among the numerous publications which had their being in Tilbury House -was that popular weekly, <i>Society Spice</i>, a paper devoted to the -exploitation of the shadier side of London life and edited by one whom -the proprietor of the Mammoth had long looked on as the brightest and -most promising of his young men—Percy Pilbeam, to wit, as enterprising -a human ferret as ever wrote a Things-We-Want-to-Know-Don’t-You-Know -paragraph. Young Pilbeam would handle this business as it should be -handled.</p> - -<p>It was the sort of commission which he had undertaken before and carried -through with complete success, reflected Lord Tilbury, recalling how -only a few months back Percy Pilbeam, in order to obtain material for -his paper, had gone for three weeks as valet to one of the smart -set—the happy conclusion of the venture being that admirable -Country-House Cesspools series which had done so much for the rural -circulation of <i>Society Spice</i>.</p> - -<p>His hand was on the buzzer to summon this eager young spirit, when a -disturbing thought occurred to him, and instead of sending for Pilbeam, -he sent for Sam Shotter.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_213" id="page_213">{213}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Ah, Shotter, I—ah—— Do you happen to know young Pilbeam?” said His -Lordship.</p> - -<p>“The editor of <i>Society Spice</i>?”</p> - -<p>“Exactly.”</p> - -<p>“I know him by sight.”</p> - -<p>“You know him by sight, eh? Ah? You know him, eh? Exactly. Quite so. I -was only wondering. A charming young fellow. You should cultivate his -acquaintance. That is all, Shotter.”</p> - -<p>Sam, with a passing suspicion that the strain of conducting a great -business had been too much for his employer, returned to his work; and -Lord Tilbury, walking with bent brows to the window, stood looking out, -once more deep in thought.</p> - -<p>The fact that Sam was acquainted with Pilbeam was just one of those -little accidents which so often upset the brilliantly conceived plans of -great generals, and it left His Lordship at something of a loss. Pilbeam -was a man he could have trusted in a delicate affair like this, and now -that he was ruled out, where else was an adequate agent to be found?</p> - -<p>It was at this point in his meditations that his eyes, roving -restlessly, were suddenly attracted by a sign on a window immediately -opposite:</p> - -<p class="c"> -<span class="smcap">The Tilbury Detective Agency, Ltd.</span><br /> -J. Sheringham Adair, Mgr.<br /> -Large and Efficient Staff<br /> -</p> - -<p>Such was the sign, and Lord Tilbury read and re-read it with bulging -eyes. It thrilled him like a direct answer to prayer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_214" id="page_214">{214}</a></span></p> - -<p>A moment later he had seized his hat, and without pausing to wait for -the lift, was leaping down the stairs like some chamois of the Alps that -bounds from crag to crag. He reached the lobby and, at a rate of speed -almost dangerous in a man of his build and sedentary habits, whizzed -across the street.</p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p>Although, with the single exception of a woman who had lost her -Pekingese dog, there had never yet been a client on the premises of the -Tilbury Detective Agency, it was Chimp Twist’s practice to repair daily -to his office and remain there for an hour or two every afternoon. If -questioned, he would have replied that he might just as well be there as -anywhere; and he felt, moreover, that it looked well for him to be seen -going in and out—a theory which was supported by the fact that only a -couple of days back the policeman on the beat had touched his helmet to -him. To have policemen touching themselves on the helmet instead of him -on the shoulder was a novel and agreeable experience to Chimp.</p> - -<p>This afternoon he was sitting, as usual, with the solitaire pack laid -out on the table before him, but his mind was not on the game. He was -musing on Soapy Molloy’s story of his failure to persuade Sam to -evacuate Mon Repos.</p> - -<p>To an extent, this failure had complicated matters; and yet there was a -bright side. To have walked in and collected the late Edward Finglass’ -legacy without let or hindrance would have been agreeable; but, on the -other hand, it would have involved sharing with<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_215" id="page_215">{215}</a></span> Soapy and his bride; -and Chimp was by nature one of those men who, when there is money about, -instinctively dislike seeing even a portion of it get away from them. It -seemed to him that a man of his admitted ingenuity might very well -evolve some scheme by which the Molloy family could be successfully -excluded from all participation in the treasure.</p> - -<p>It only required a little thought, felt Chimp; and he was still thinking -when a confused noise without announced the arrival of Lord Tilbury.</p> - -<p>The opening of the door was followed by a silence. Lord Tilbury was not -built for speed, and the rapidity with which he had crossed the street -and mounted four flights of stairs had left him in a condition where he -was able only to sink into a chair and pant like a spent seal. As for -Chimp, he was too deeply moved to speak. Even when lying back in a chair -and saying “Woof!” Lord Tilbury still retained the unmistakable look of -one to whom bank managers grovel, and the sudden apparition of such a -man affected him like a miracle. He felt as if he had been fishing idly -for minnows and landed a tarpon.</p> - -<p>Being, however, a man of resource, he soon recovered himself. Placing a -foot on a button beneath the table, he caused a sharp ringing to pervade -the office.</p> - -<p>“Excuse me,” he said, politely but with a busy man’s curtness, as he -took up the telephone. “Yes? Yes? Yes, this is the Tilbury Detective -Agency.... Scotland Yard? Right, I’ll hold the wire.”</p> - -<p>He placed a hand over the transmitter and turned to Lord Tilbury with a -little rueful grimace.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_216" id="page_216">{216}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Always bothering me,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Woof!” said Lord Tilbury.</p> - -<p>Mr. Twist renewed his attention to the telephone.</p> - -<p>“Hullo!... Sir John? Good afternoon.... Yes.... Yes.... We are doing our -best, Sir John. We are always anxious to oblige headquarters.... Yes.... -Yes.... Very well, Sir John. Good-bye.”</p> - -<p>He replaced the receiver and was at Lord Tilbury’s disposal.</p> - -<p>“If the Yard would get rid of their antiquated system and give more -scope to men of brains,” he said, not bitterly but with a touch of -annoyance, “they would not always have to be appealing to us to help -them out. Did you know that a man cannot be a detective at Scotland Yard -unless he is over a certain height?”</p> - -<p>“You surprise me,” said Lord Tilbury, who was now feeling better.</p> - -<p>“Five-foot-nine, I believe it is. Could there be an absurder -regulation?”</p> - -<p>“It sounds ridiculous.”</p> - -<p>“And is,” said Chimp severely. “I am five-foot-seven myself. Wilbraham -and Donahue, the best men on my staff, are an inch and half an inch -shorter. You cannot gauge brains by height.”</p> - -<p>“No, indeed,” said Lord Tilbury, who was five-feet-six. “Look at -Napoleon! And Nelson!”</p> - -<p>“Exactly,” said Chimp. “Battling Nelson. A very good case in point. And -Tom Sharkey was a short man too.... Well, what was it you wished to -consult me about, Mr.—— I have not your name.”</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury hesitated.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_217" id="page_217">{217}</a></span></p> - -<p>“I take it that I may rely on your complete discretion, Mr. Adair?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing that you tell me in this room will go any farther,” said Chimp, -with dignity.</p> - -<p>“I am Lord Tilbury,” said His Lordship, looking like a man unveiling a -statue of himself.</p> - -<p>“The proprietor of the joint across the way?”</p> - -<p>“Exactly,” said Lord Tilbury a little shortly.</p> - -<p>He had expected his name to cause more emotion, and he did not like -hearing the Mammoth Publishing Company described as “the joint across -the way.”</p> - -<p>He would have been gratified had he known that his companion had -experienced considerable emotion and that it was only by a strong effort -that he had contrived to conceal it. He might have been less pleased if -he had been aware that Chimp was confidently expecting him to reveal -some disgraceful secret which would act as the foundation for future -blackmail. For although, in establishing his detective agency, Chimp -Twist had been animated chiefly by the desire to conceal his more -important movements, he had never lost sight of the fact that there are -possibilities in such an institution.</p> - -<p>“And what can I do for you, Lord Tilbury?” he asked, putting his finger -tips together.</p> - -<p>His Lordship bent closer.</p> - -<p>“I want a man watched.”</p> - -<p>Once again his companion was barely able to conceal his elation. This -sounded exceptionally promising. Though only an imitation private -detective, Chimp Twist had a genuine private detective’s soul. He could -imagine but one reason why men should want men watched.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_218" id="page_218">{218}</a></span></p> - -<p>“A boy on the staff of Tilbury House.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said Chimp, more convinced than ever. “Good-looking fellow, I -suppose?”</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury considered. He had never had occasion to form an opinion of -Sam’s looks.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said.</p> - -<p>“One of these lounge lizards, eh? One of these parlour tarantulas? I -know the sort—know ’em well. One of these slithery young-feller-me-lads -with educated feet and shiny hair. And when did the dirty work start?”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon?”</p> - -<p>“When did you first suspect this young man of alienating Lady Tilbury’s -affections?”</p> - -<p>“Lady Tilbury? I don’t understand you. I am a widower.”</p> - -<p>“Eh? Then what’s this fellow done?” said Chimp, feeling at sea again.</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury coughed.</p> - -<p>“I had better tell you the whole position. This boy is the nephew of a -business acquaintance of mine in America, with whom I am in the process -of conducting some very delicate negotiations. He, the boy, is over here -at the moment, working on my staff, and I am, you will understand, -practically responsible to his uncle for his behaviour. That is to say, -should he do anything of which his uncle might disapprove, the blame -will fall on me, and these negotiations—these very delicate -negotiations—will undoubtedly be broken off. My American acquaintance -is a peculiar man, you understand.”</p> - -<p>“Well?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_219" id="page_219">{219}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Well, I have just discovered that the boy is conducting a clandestine -love affair with a girl of humble circumstances who resides in the -suburb.”</p> - -<p>“A tooting tooti-frooti,” translated Chimp, nodding. “I see.”</p> - -<p>“A what?” asked Lord Tilbury, a little blankly.</p> - -<p>“A belle of Balham—Bertha from Brixton.”</p> - -<p>“She lives at Valley Fields. And this boy Shotter has taken the house -next door to her. I beg your pardon?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing,” said Chimp in a thick voice.</p> - -<p>“I thought you spoke.”</p> - -<p>“No.” Chimp swallowed feverishly. “Did you say Shotter?”</p> - -<p>“Shotter.”</p> - -<p>“Taken a house in Valley Fields?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. In Burberry Road. Mon Repos is the name.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said Chimp, expelling a deep breath.</p> - -<p>“You see the position? All that can be done at present is to institute a -close watch on the boy. It may be that I have allowed myself to become -unduly alarmed. Possibly he does not contemplate so serious a step as -marriage with this young woman. Nevertheless, I should be decidedly -relieved if I felt that there was someone in his house watching his -movements and making daily reports to me.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll take this case,” said Chimp.</p> - -<p>“Good! You will put a competent man on it?”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t trust it to one of my staff, not even Wilbraham or Donahue. -I’ll take it on myself.”</p> - -<p>“That is very good of you, Mr. Adair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_220" id="page_220">{220}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“A pleasure,” said Chimp.</p> - -<p>“And now arises a difficult point. How do you propose to make your entry -into young Shotter’s household?”</p> - -<p>“Easy as pie. Odd-job man.”</p> - -<p>“Odd-job man?”</p> - -<p>“They always want odd-job men down in the suburbs. Fellows who’ll do the -dirty work that the help kick at. Listen here, you tell this young man -that I’m a fellow that once worked for you and ask him to engage me as a -personal favour. That’ll cinch it. He won’t like to refuse the -boss—what I mean.”</p> - -<p>“True,” said Lord Tilbury. “True. But it will necessitate something in -the nature of a change of costumes,” he went on, looking at the other’s -shining tweeds.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you fret. I’ll dress the part.”</p> - -<p>“And what name would you suggest taking? Not your own, of course?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve always called myself Twist before.”</p> - -<p>“Twist? Excellent! Then suppose you come to my office in half an hour’s -time.”</p> - -<p>“Sure!”</p> - -<p>“I am much obliged, Mr. Adair.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all,” said Chimp handsomely. “Not a-tall! Don’t mention it. Only -too pleased.”</p> - -<h3>§ 3</h3> - -<p>Sam, when the summons came for him to go to his employer’s office, was -reading with no small complacency a little thing of his own in the issue -of Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i> which would be on the bookstalls<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_221" id="page_221">{221}</a></span> next -morning. It was signed Aunt Ysobel, and it gave some most admirable -counsel to Worried (Upper Sydenham) who had noticed of late a growing -coldness toward her on the part of her betrothed.</p> - -<p>He had just finished reading this, marvelling, as authors will when they -see their work in print, at the purity of his style and the soundness of -his reasoning, when the telephone rang and he learned that Lord Tilbury -desired his presence. He hastened to the holy of holies and found there -not only His Lordship but a little man with a waxed moustache, to which -he took an instant dislike.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Shotter,” said Lord Tilbury.</p> - -<p>There was a pause. Lord Tilbury, one hand resting on the back of his -chair, the fingers of the other in the fold of his waistcoat, stood -looking like a Victorian uncle being photographed. The little man -fingered the waxed moustache. And Sam glanced from Lord Tilbury to the -moustache inquiringly and with distaste. He had never seen a moustache -he disliked more.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Shotter,” said Lord Tilbury, “this is a man named Twist, who was at -one time in my employment.”</p> - -<p>“Odd-job man,” interpolated the waxed-moustached one.</p> - -<p>“As odd-job man,” said Lord Tilbury.</p> - -<p>“Ah?” said Sam.</p> - -<p>“He is now out of work.”</p> - -<p>Sam, looking at Mr. Twist, considered that this spoke well for the -rugged good sense of the employers of London.</p> - -<p>“I have nothing to offer him myself,” continued<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_222" id="page_222">{222}</a></span> Lord Tilbury, “so it -occurred to me that you might possibly have room for him in your new -house.”</p> - -<p>“Me?” said Sam.</p> - -<p>“I should take it as a personal favour to myself if you would engage -Twist. I naturally dislike the idea of an old and—er—faithful employee -of mine being out of work.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Twist’s foresight was justified. Put in this way, the request was -one that Sam found it difficult to refuse.</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, in that case——”</p> - -<p>“Excellent! No doubt you will find plenty of little things for him to do -about your house and garden.”</p> - -<p>“He can wash the dog,” said Sam, inspired. The question of the bathing -of Amy was rapidly thrusting itself into the forefront of the domestic -politics of Mon Repos.</p> - -<p>“Exactly! And chop wood and run errands and what not.”</p> - -<p>“There’s just one thing,” said Sam, who had been eying his new assistant -with growing aversion. “That moustache must come off.”</p> - -<p>“What?” cried Chimp, stricken to the core.</p> - -<p>“Right off at the roots,” said Sam sternly. “I will not have a thing -like that about the place, attracting the moths.”</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury sighed. He found this young man’s eccentricities -increasingly hard to bear. With that sad wistfulness which the Greeks -called <i>pathos</i> and the Romans <i>desiderium</i>, he thought of the happy -days, only a few weeks back, when he had been a peaceful, care-free man, -ignorant of Sam’s very existence. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_223" id="page_223">{223}</a></span> had had his troubles then, no -doubt; but how small and trivial they seemed now.</p> - -<p>“I suppose Twist will shave off his moustache if you wish it,” he said -wearily.</p> - -<p>Chancing to catch that eminent private investigator’s eye, he was -surprised to note its glazed and despairing expression. The man had the -air of one who has received a death sentence.</p> - -<p>“Shave it?” quavered Chimp, fondling the growth tenderly. “Shave my -moustache?”</p> - -<p>“Shave it,” said Sam firmly. “Hew it down. Raze it to the soil and sow -salt upon the foundations.”</p> - -<p>“Very good, sir,” said Chimp lugubriously.</p> - -<p>“That is settled then,” said Lord Tilbury, relieved. “So you will enter -Mr. Shotter’s employment immediately, Twist.”</p> - -<p>Chimp nodded a mournful nod.</p> - -<p>“You will find Twist thoroughly satisfactory, I am sure. He is quiet, -sober, respectful and hard-working.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, that’s bad,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury heaved another sigh.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_224" id="page_224">{224}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY<br /><br /> -<small>TROUBLE IN THE SYNDICATE</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN Chimp Twist left Tilbury House, he turned westward along the -Embankment, for he had an appointment to meet his colleagues of the -syndicate at the Lyons tea shop in Green Street, Leicester Square. The -depression which had swept over him on hearing Sam’s dreadful edict had -not lasted long. Men of Mr. Twist’s mode of life are generally -resilient. They have to be.</p> - -<p>After all, he felt, it would be churlish of him, in the face of this -almost supernatural slice of luck, to grumble at the one crumpled rose -leaf. Besides, it would only take him about a couple of days to get away -with the treasure of Mon Repos, and then he could go into retirement and -grow his moustache again. For there is this about moustaches, as about -whiskers—though of these Mr. Twist, to do him justice, had never been -guilty—that, like truth, though crushed to the earth, they will rise. A -little patience and his moustache will rise on stepping-stones of its -dead self to higher things. Yes, when the fields were white with daisies -it would return. Pondering thus, Chimp Twist walked briskly to the end -of the Embankment, turned up Northumberland Avenue, and reaching his -destination, found Mr. and Mrs. Molloy waiting for him at a table in a -far corner.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_225" id="page_225">{225}</a></span></p> - -<p>It was quiet in the tea shop at this hour, and the tryst had been -arranged with that fact in mind. For this was in all essentials a board -meeting of the syndicate, and business men and women do not like to have -their talk interrupted by noisy strangers clamorous for food. With the -exception of a woman in a black silk dress with bugles who, incredible -as it may seem, had ordered cocoa and sparkling limado simultaneously -and was washing down a meal of Cambridge sausages and pastry with -alternate draughts of both liquids, the place was empty.</p> - -<p>Soapy and his bride, Chimp perceived, were looking grave, even gloomy; -and in the process of crossing the room he forced his own face into an -expression in sympathy with theirs. It would not do, he realised, to -allow his joyous excitement to become manifest at what was practically a -post-mortem. For the meeting had been convened to sit upon the failure -of his recent scheme and he suspected the possibility of a vote of -censure. He therefore sat down with a heavy seriousness befitting the -occasion; and having ordered a cup of coffee, replied to his companions’ -questioning glances with a sorrowful shake of the head.</p> - -<p>“Nothing stirring,” he said.</p> - -<p>“You haven’t doped out another scheme,” said Dolly, bending her shapely -brows in a frown.</p> - -<p>“Not yet.”</p> - -<p>“Then,” demanded the lady heatedly, “where does this -sixty-five-thirty-five stuff come in? That’s what I’d like to know.”</p> - -<p>“Me, too,” said Mr. Molloy with spirit. It occurred to Chimp that a -little informal discussion must<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_226" id="page_226">{226}</a></span> have been indulged in by his colleagues -of the board previous to his arrival, for their unanimity was wonderful.</p> - -<p>“You threw a lot of bull about being the brains of the concern,” said -Dolly accusingly, “and said that, being the brains of the concern, you -had ought to be paid highest. And now you blow in and admit that you -haven’t any more ideas than a rabbit.”</p> - -<p>“Not so many,” said Mr. Molloy, who liked rabbits and had kept them as a -child.</p> - -<p>Chimp stirred his coffee thoughtfully. He was meditating on what a -difference a very brief time can make in the fortunes of man. But for -that amazing incursion of Lord Tilbury, he would have been approaching -this interview in an extremely less happy frame of mind. For it was -plain that the temper of the shareholders was stormy.</p> - -<p>“You’re quite right, Dolly,” he said humbly, “quite right. I’m not so -good as I thought I was.”</p> - -<p>This handsome admission should have had the effect proverbially -attributed to soft words, but it served only to fan the flame.</p> - -<p>“Then where do you get off with this sixty-five-thirty-five?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t,” said Chimp. “I don’t, Dolly.” The man’s humility was -touching. “That’s all cold. We split fifty-fifty, that’s what we do.”</p> - -<p>Soft words may fail, but figures never. Dolly uttered a cry that caused -the woman in the bugles to spill her cocoa, and Mr. Molloy shook as with -a palsy.</p> - -<p>“Now you’re talking,” said Dolly.</p> - -<p>“Now,” said Mr. Molloy, “you are talking.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_227" id="page_227">{227}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s that,” said Chimp. “Now let’s get down to it and see what -we can do.”</p> - -<p>“I might go to the joint again and have another talk with that guy,” -suggested Mr. Molloy.</p> - -<p>“No sense in that,” said Chimp, somewhat perturbed. It did not at all -suit his plans to have his old friend roaming about in the neighbourhood -of Mon Repos while he was in residence.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know so much,” said Mr. Molloy thoughtfully. “I didn’t seem to -get going quite good that last time. The fellow had me out on the -sidewalk before I could pull a real spiel. If I tried again——”</p> - -<p>“It wouldn’t be any use,” said Chimp. “This guy Shotter told you himself -he had a special reason for staying on.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t think he’s wise to the stuff being there?” said Dolly, -alarmed.</p> - -<p>“No, no,” said Chimp. “Nothing like that. There’s a dame next door he’s -kind of stuck on.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know?”</p> - -<p>Chimp gulped. He felt like a man who discovers himself on the brink of a -precipice.</p> - -<p>“I—I was snooping around down there and I saw ’em,” he said.</p> - -<p>“What were you doing down there?” asked Dolly suspiciously.</p> - -<p>“Just looking around, Dolly, just looking around.”</p> - -<p>“Oh?”</p> - -<p>The silence which followed was so embarrassing to a sensitive man that -Chimp swallowed his coffee hastily and rose.</p> - -<p>“Going?” said Mr. Molloy coldly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_228" id="page_228">{228}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Just remembered I’ve got a date.”</p> - -<p>“When do we meet again?”</p> - -<p>“No sense in meeting for the next day or two.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>“Well, a fellow wants time to think. I’ll give you a ring.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll be at your office to-morrow?”</p> - -<p>“Not to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Day after?”</p> - -<p>“Maybe not the day after. I’m moving around some.”</p> - -<p>“Where?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, all around.”</p> - -<p>“Doing what?”</p> - -<p>Chimp’s self-control gave way.</p> - -<p>“Say, what’s eating you?” he demanded. “Where do you get this stuff of -prying and poking into a man’s affairs? Can’t a fellow have a little -privacy sometimes?”</p> - -<p>“Sure!” said Mr. Molloy. “Sure!”</p> - -<p>“Sure!” said Mrs. Molloy. “Sure!”</p> - -<p>“Well, good-bye,” said Chimp.</p> - -<p>“Good-bye,” said Mr. Molloy.</p> - -<p>“God bless you,” said Mrs. Molloy, with a little click of her teeth.</p> - -<p>Chimp left the tea shop. It was not a dignified exit, and he was aware -of it with every step that he took. He was also aware of the eyes of his -two colleagues boring into his retreating back. Still, what did it -matter, argued Chimp Twist, even if that stiff, Soapy, and his wife had -suspicions of him? They could not know. And all he needed was a clear -day<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_229" id="page_229">{229}</a></span> or two and they could suspect all they pleased. Nevertheless, he -regretted that unfortunate slip.</p> - -<p>The door had hardly closed behind him when Dolly put her suspicions into -words.</p> - -<p>“Soapy!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, petty?”</p> - -<p>“That bird is aiming to double-cross us.”</p> - -<p>“You said it!”</p> - -<p>“I wondered why he switched to that fifty-fifty proposition so smooth. -And when he let it out that he’d been snooping around down there, I -knew. He’s got some little game of his own on, that’s what he’s got. -He’s planning to try and scoop that stuff by himself and leave us flat.”</p> - -<p>“The low hound!” said Mr. Molloy virtuously.</p> - -<p>“We got to get action, Soapy, or we’ll be left. To think of that little -Chimp doing us dirt just goes against my better nature. How would it be -if you was to go down to-night and do some more porch climbing? Once you -were in, you could get the stuff easily. It wouldn’t be a case of -hunting around same as last time.”</p> - -<p>“Well, sweetie,” said Mr. Molloy frankly, “I’ll tell you. I’m not so -strong for that burgling stuff. It’s not my line and I don’t like it. -It’s awful dark and lonesome in that joint at three o’clock in the -morning. All the time I was there I kep’ looking over my shoulder, -expecting old Finky’s ghost to sneak up on me and breathe down the back -of my neck.”</p> - -<p>“Be a man, honey!”</p> - -<p>“I’m a man all right, petty, but I’m temperamental.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_230" id="page_230">{230}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Well, then——” said Dolly, and breaking off abruptly, plunged into -thought.</p> - -<p>Mr. Molloy watched her fondly and hopefully. He had a great respect for -her woman’s resourcefulness, and it seemed to him from the occasional -gleam in her vivid eyes that something was doing.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got it!”</p> - -<p>“You have?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir!”</p> - -<p>“There is none like her, none,” Mr. Molloy’s glistening eye seemed to -say. “Give us an earful, baby,” he begged emotionally.</p> - -<p>Dolly bent closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. The woman in the -bugles, torpid with much limado, was out of ear-shot, but a waitress was -hovering not far away.</p> - -<p>“Listen! We got to wait till the guy Shotter is out of the house.”</p> - -<p>“But he’s got a man. You told me that yourself.”</p> - -<p>“Sure he’s got a man, but if you’ll only listen I’ll tell you. We wait -till this fellow Shotter is out——”</p> - -<p>“How do we know he’s out?”</p> - -<p>“We ask at the front door, of course. Say, listen, Soapy, for the love -of Pete don’t keep interrupting! We go to the house. You go round to the -back door.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll soak you one in a minute,” exclaimed Dolly despairingly.</p> - -<p>“All right, sweetness. Sorry. Didn’t mean to butt in. Keep talking. You -have the floor.”</p> - -<p>“You go round to the back door and wait, keeping your eye on the front -steps, where I’ll be. I ring the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_231" id="page_231">{231}</a></span> bell and the hired man comes. I say, -‘Is Mr. Shotter at home?’ If he says yes, I’ll go in and make some sort -of spiel about something. But if he’s not, I’ll give you the high sign -and you slip in at the back door; and then when the man comes down into -the kitchen again you’re waiting and you bean him one with a sandbag. -Then you tie him up and come along to the front door and let me in and -we go up and grab that stuff. How about it?”</p> - -<p>“I bean him one?” said Mr. Molloy doubtfully.</p> - -<p>“Cert’nly you bean him one.”</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t do it, petty,” said Mr. Molloy. “I’ve never beaned anyone in -my life.”</p> - -<p>Dolly exhibited the impatience which all wives, from Lady Macbeth -downward through the ages, have felt when their schemes appear in danger -of being thwarted by the pusillanimity of a husband.</p> - -<p>The words, “Infirm of purpose, give me the sandbag!” seemed to be -trembling on her lips.</p> - -<p>“You poor cake eater!” she cried with justifiable vigour. “You talk as -if it needed a college education to lean a stuffed eelskin on a guy’s -head. Of course you can do it. You’re behind the kitchen door, see?—and -he comes in, see?—and you sim’ly bust him one, see? A feller with one -arm and no legs could do it. And, say, if you want something to brace -you up, think of all that money lying in the cistern, just waiting for -us to come and dip for it!”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said Mr. Molloy, brightening.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_232" id="page_232">{232}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE<br /><br /> -<small>AUNT YSOBEL POINTS THE WAY</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">C</span>LAIRE LIPPETT sat in the kitchen of San Rafael, reading Pyke’s <i>Home -Companion</i>. It was Mr. Wrenn’s kindly custom to bring back a copy for -her each week on the day of publication, thus saving her an outlay of -twopence. She was alone in the house, for Kay was up in London doing -some shopping, and Mr. Wrenn, having come in and handed over the current -number, had gone off for a game of chess with his friend, Cornelius.</p> - -<p>She was not expecting to be alone long. Muffins lay on the table, all -ready to be toasted; a cake which she had made herself stood beside -them; and there was also a new tin of anchovy paste—all of which -dainties were designed for the delectation of Hash Todhunter, her -fiancé, who would shortly be coming to tea.</p> - -<p>As a rule, Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i> absorbed Claire’s undivided -attention, for she was one of its most devoted supporters; but this -evening she found her mind wandering, for there was that upon it which -not even Cordelia Blair’s <i>Hearts Aflame</i> could conjure away.</p> - -<p>Claire was worried. On the previous day a cloud<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_233" id="page_233">{233}</a></span> had fallen on her life, -not exactly blotting out the sunshine, but seeming to threaten some such -eclipse in the near future. She had taken Hash to John Street for a -formal presentation to her mother, and it was on the way home that she -had first observed the approach of the cloud.</p> - -<p>Hash’s manner had seemed to her peculiar. A girl who has just become -romantically betrothed to a man does not expect that man, when they are -sitting close together on the top of an omnibus, to talk moodily of the -unwisdom of hasty marriages.</p> - -<p>It pains and surprises her when he mentions friends of his who, plunging -hot-heatedly into matrimony, spent years of subsequent regret. And when, -staring woodenly before him, he bids her look at Samson, Doctor Crippen -and other celebrities who were not fortunate in their domestic lives, -she feels a certain alarm.</p> - -<p>And such had been the trend of Hash Todhunter’s conversation, coming -home from John Street. Claire, recalling the more outstanding of his -dicta, felt puzzled and unhappy, and not even the fact that Cordelia -Blair had got her hero into a ruined mill with villains lurking on the -ground floor and dynamite stored in the basement could enchain her -interest. She turned the page listlessly and found herself confronted by -Aunt Ysobel’s Chats With My Girls.</p> - -<p>In spite of herself, Claire’s spirits rose a little. She never failed to -read every word that Aunt Ysobel wrote, for she considered that lady a -complete guide to all mundane difficulties. Nor was this an unduly -flattering opinion, for Aunt Ysobel was indeed like<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_234" id="page_234">{234}</a></span> a wise pilot, -gently steering the storm-tossed barks of her fellow men and women -through the shoals and sunken rocks of the ocean of life. If you wanted -to know whether to blow on your tea or allow it to cool of itself in -God’s good time, Aunt Ysobel would tell you. If, approaching her on a -deeper subject, you desired to ascertain the true significance of the -dark young man’s offer of flowers, she could tell you that too—even -attributing to each individual bloom a hidden and esoteric meaning which -it would have been astonished to find that it possessed.</p> - -<p>Should a lady shake hands or bow on parting with a gentleman whom she -has met only once? Could a gentleman present a lady with a pound of -chocolates without committing himself to anything unduly definite? Must -mother always come along? Did you say “Miss Jones—Mr. Smith” or “Mr. -Smith—Miss Jones,” when introducing friends? And arising from this -question, did Mr. Smith on such an occasion say, “Pleased to meet you” -or “Happy, I’m sure”?</p> - -<p>Aunt Ysobel was right there every time with the correct answer. And -everything she wrote had a universal message.</p> - -<p>It was so to-day. Scarcely had Claire begun to read, when her eye was -caught by a paragraph headed Worried (Upper Sydenham).</p> - -<p>“Coo!” said Claire.</p> - -<p>The passage ran as follows:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“<span class="smcap">Worried</span> (Upper Sydenham). You tell me, dear, that the man to whom -you are betrothed seems to you to be growing cold, and you ask me -what you had <span class="pagenum"><a name="page_235" id="page_235">{235}</a></span>better do. Well, dear, there is only one thing you -can do, and I give this advice to all my girl friends who come to -me with this trouble. You must test this man. You see, he may not -really be growing cold; he may merely have some private business -worry on his mind which causes him to seem distrait. If you test -him you will soon learn the truth. What I suggest may seem to you -at first a wee bit unladylike, but try it all the same. Pretend to -show a liking for some other gentleman friend of yours. Even flirt -with him a teeny-weeny bit.</p> - -<p>“You will soon discover then if this young man really cares for you -still. If he does he will exhibit agitation. He may even go to the -length of becoming violent. In the olden days, you know, knights -used to joust for the love of their lady. Try Herbert or George, or -whatever his name is, out for a week, and see if you can work him -up to the jousting stage.”</p></div> - -<p>Claire laid down the paper with trembling hands. The thing might have -been written for her personal benefit. There was no getting away from -Aunt Ysobel. She touched the spot every time.</p> - -<p>Of course, there were difficulties. It was all very well for Aunt Ysobel -to recommend flirting with some other male member of your circle, but -suppose your circle was so restricted that there were no available -victims. From the standpoint of dashing male society, Burberry Road was -at the moment passing through rather a lean time. The postman was an -elderly man who, if he stopped to exchange a word, talked only of his -son in Canada. The baker’s repre<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_236" id="page_236">{236}</a></span>sentative, on the other hand, was a -mere boy, and so was the butcher’s. Besides, she might smile upon these -by the hour and Hash would never see her. It was all very complex, and -she was still pondering upon the problem when a whistle from without -announced the arrival of her guest.</p> - -<p>The chill of yesterday still hung over Mr. Todhunter’s demeanour. He was -not precisely cold, but he was most certainly not warm. He managed -somehow to achieve a kind of intermediate temperature. He was rather -like a broiled fish that has been lying too long on a plate.</p> - -<p>He kissed Claire. That is to say, technically the thing was a kiss. But -it was not the kiss of other days.</p> - -<p>“What’s up?” asked Claire, hurt.</p> - -<p>“Nothing’s up.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, there is something up.”</p> - -<p>“No, there ain’t anything up.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, there is.”</p> - -<p>“No, there ain’t.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then,” said Claire, “what’s up?”</p> - -<p>These intellectual exchanges seemed to have the effect of cementing Mr. -Todhunter’s gloom. He relapsed into a dark silence, and Claire, her chin -dangerously elevated, prepared tea.</p> - -<p>Tea did not thaw the guest. He ate a muffin, sampled the cake and drank -deeply; but he still remained that strange, moody figure who rather -reminded Claire of the old earl in <i>Hearts Aflame</i>. But then the old -earl had had good reason for looking like a man who has drained the wine -of life and is now unwillingly facing the lees, because he had driven -his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_237" id="page_237">{237}</a></span> only daughter from his door, and though mistaken in this view, -supposed that she had died of consumption in Australia. (It was really -another girl.) But why Hash should look like one who has drained the -four ale of life and found a dead mouse at the bottom of the pewter, -Claire did not know, and she quivered with a sense of injury.</p> - -<p>However, she was a hostess. (“A hostess, dears, must never, never permit -her private feelings to get the better of her”—Aunt Ysobel.)</p> - -<p>“Would you like a nice fresh lettuce?” she asked. It might be, she felt, -that this would just make the difference.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said Hash. He had a weakness for lettuces.</p> - -<p>“I’ll go down the garden and cut you one.”</p> - -<p>He did not offer to accompany her, and that in itself was significant. -It was with a heart bowed down that Claire took her knife and made her -way along the gravel path. So preoccupied was she that she did not cast -even a glance over the fence till she was aware suddenly of a strange -moaning sound proceeding from the domain of Mon Repos. This excited her -curiosity. She stopped, listened, and finally looked.</p> - -<p>The garden of Mon Repos presented an animated spectacle. Sam was -watering a flower bed, and not far away the dog Amy, knee-deep in a tub, -was being bathed by a small, clean-shaven man who was a stranger to -Claire.</p> - -<p>Both of them seemed to be having a rough passage. Amy, as is the habit -of her species on these occasions, was conveying the impression of being -at death’s door and far from resigned. Her mournful eyes stared<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_238" id="page_238">{238}</a></span> -hopelessly at the sky, her brow was wrinkled with a perplexed sorrow, -and at intervals she uttered a stricken wail. On these occasions she in -addition shook herself petulantly, and Chimp Twist—for, as Miss Blair -would have said, it was he—was always well within range.</p> - -<p>Claire stopped, transfixed. She had had no notion that the staff of Mon -Repos had been augmented, and it seemed to her that Chimp had been sent -from heaven. Here, right on the spot, in daily association with Hash, -was the desired male. She smiled dazzlingly upon Chimp.</p> - -<p>“Hullo,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Hullo,” said Chimp.</p> - -<p>He spoke moodily, for he was feeling moody. There might be golden -rewards at the end of this venture of his, but he perceived already that -they would have to be earned. Last night Hash Todhunter had won six -shilling from him at stud poker, and Chimp was a thrifty man. Moreover, -Hash slept in the top back room, and when not in it, locked the door.</p> - -<p>This latter fact may seem to offer little material for gloom on Chimp’s -part, but it was, indeed, the root of all his troubles. In informing Mr. -and Mrs. Molloy that the plunder of the late Edward Finglass was hidden -in the cistern of Mon Repos, Chimp Twist had been guilty of -subterfuge—pardonable, perhaps, for your man of affairs must take these -little business precautions, but nevertheless subterfuge. In the letter -which, after carefully memorising, he had just as carefully destroyed, -Mr. Finglass had revealed that the proceeds of his flutter with the New -Asiatic Bank<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_239" id="page_239">{239}</a></span> might be found not in the cistern but rather by anyone who -procured a chisel and raised the third board from the window in the top -back room. Chimp had not foreseen that this top back room would be -occupied by a short-tempered cook who, should he discover people prying -up his floor with chisels, would scarcely fail to make himself -unpleasant. That was why Mr. Twist spoke moodily to Claire, and who -shall blame him?</p> - -<p>Claire was not discouraged. She had cast Chimp for the rôle of stalking -horse and he was going to be it.</p> - -<p>“Is the doggie having his bath?” she asked archly.</p> - -<p>“I think they’re splitting it about fifty-fifty,” said Sam, adding -himself to the conversation.</p> - -<p>Claire perceived that this was, indeed, so.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you are wet,” she cried. “You’ll catch cold. Would you like a nice -cup of hot tea?”</p> - -<p>Something approaching gratitude appeared in Chimp’s mournful face.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, miss,” he said. “I would.”</p> - -<p>“We’re spoiling you,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>He sauntered down the garden, plying his hose, and Claire hurried back -to her kitchen.</p> - -<p>“Where’s my nice lettuce?” demanded Hash.</p> - -<p>“Haven’t got it yet. I’ve come in to get a cup of hot tea and a slice of -cake for that young man next door. He’s got so wet washing that big -dog.”</p> - -<p>It was some little time before she returned.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been having a talk with that young man,” she said. “He liked his -tea very much.”</p> - -<p>“Did he?” said Hash shortly. “Ho, did he? Where’s my lettuce?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_240" id="page_240">{240}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Claire uttered an exclamation.</p> - -<p>“There! If I haven’t gone and forgotten it!”</p> - -<p>Hash rose, a set look on his face.</p> - -<p>“Never mind,” he said. “Never mind.”</p> - -<p>“You aren’t going?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I am.”</p> - -<p>“What, already?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, already.”</p> - -<p>“Well, if you must,” said Claire. “I like Mr. Twist,” she went on -pensively. “He’s what I call a perfect gentleman.”</p> - -<p>“He’s what I call a perisher,” said Hash sourly.</p> - -<p>“Nice way he’s got of speaking. His Christian name’s Alexander. Do you -call him that or Aleck?”</p> - -<p>“If you care to ’ear what I call him,” replied Hash with frigid -politeness, “you can come and listen at our kitchen door.”</p> - -<p>“Why, you surely aren’t jealous!” cried Claire, wide-eyed.</p> - -<p>“Who, me?” said Hash bitterly.</p> - -<p>It was some few minutes later that Sam, watering his garden like a good -householder, heard sounds of tumult from within. Turning off his hose, -he hastened toward the house and reached it in time to observe the back -door open with some violence and his new odd-job man emerge at a high -rate of speed. A crockery implement of the kind used in kitchens -followed the odd-job man, bursting like a shell against the brick wall -which bounded the estate of Mon Repos. The odd-job man himself, heading -for the street, disappeared, and Sam, going into the kitchen, found Mr. -Todhunter fuming.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_241" id="page_241">{241}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Little tiff?” inquired Sam.</p> - -<p>Hash gave vent to a few sailorly oaths.</p> - -<p>“He’s been flirting with my girl and I’ve been telling him off.”</p> - -<p>Sam clicked his tongue.</p> - -<p>“Boys will be boys,” he said. “But, Hash, didn’t I gather from certain -words you let fall when you came home last night that your ardour was -beginning to wane a trifle?”</p> - -<p>“Ur?”</p> - -<p>“I say, from the way you spoke last night about the folly of hasty -marriages, I imagined that you had begun to experience certain regrets. -In other words, you gave me the impression of a man who would be glad to -be free from sentimental entanglements. Yet here you are -positively—yes, by Jove, positively jousting!”</p> - -<p>“What say?”</p> - -<p>“I was quoting from a little thing I dashed off up at the office -recently. Have you changed your mind about hasty marriages then?”</p> - -<p>Hash frowned perplexedly at the stove. He was not a man who found it -easy to put his thoughts into words.</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s like this: I saw her mother yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! That is a treat I have not had.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think girls get like their mothers, Sam?”</p> - -<p>“Sometimes.”</p> - -<p>Hash shivered.</p> - -<p>“Well, the ’ole thing is, when I’m away from the girl, I get to thinking -about her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_242" id="page_242">{242}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Very properly,” said Sam. “Absence, it has been well said, makes the -heart grow fonder.”</p> - -<p>“Thinking of her mother, I mean.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, of her mother?”</p> - -<p>“And then I wish I was well out of it all, you understand. But then -again, when I’m settin’ with ’er with my arm round ’er little waist——”</p> - -<p>“You are still speaking of the mother?”</p> - -<p>“No, the girl.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, the girl?”</p> - -<p>“And when I’m lookin’ at her and she’s lookin’ at me, it’s different. -It’s—well, it’s what I may call different. She’s got a way of tossing -her chin up, Sam, and waggling of ’er ’air——”</p> - -<p>Sam nodded.</p> - -<p>“I know,” he said, “I know. They have, haven’t they? Confirmed hair -wagglers, all of them. Well, Hash, if you will listen to the advice of -an old lady with girl friends in every part of England—and Scotland, -too, for that matter; you will find a communication from Bonnie Lassie -(Glasgow) in this very issue—I would say, Risk the mother. And -meanwhile, Hash, refrain, if possible, from slaying our odd-job man. He -may not be much to look at, but he is uncommonly useful. Never forget -that in a few days we may want Amy washed again.”</p> - -<p>He bestowed an encouraging nod upon his companion and went out into the -garden. He was just picking up his hose when a scuffling sound from the -other side of the fence attracted his attention. It was followed by a -sharp exclamation, and he recognised Kay’s voice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_243" id="page_243">{243}</a></span></p> - -<p>It was growing dark now, but it was not too dark for Sam to see, if only -sketchily, what was in progress in the garden of San Rafael. Shrouded -though the whole scene was in an evening mist, he perceived a male -figure. He also perceived the figure of Kay. The male figure appeared -either to be giving Kay a lesson in jiujitsu or else embracing her -against her will. From the sound of her voice, he put the latter -construction on the affair, and it seemed to him that, in the inspired -words of the typewriter, now was the time for all good men to come to -the aid of the party.</p> - -<p>Sam was a man of action. Several policies were open to him. He could -ignore the affair altogether; he could shout reproof at the aggressor -from a distance; he could climb the fence and run to the rescue. None of -these operations appealed to him. It was his rule in life to act swiftly -and to think, if at all, later. In his simple, direct fashion, -therefore, he lifted the hose and sent a stream of water shooting at the -now closely entangled pair.</p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p>The treatment was instantaneously effective. The male member of the -combination, receiving several gallons of the Valley Fields Water -Company’s best stuff on the side of his head and then distributed at -random over his person, seemed to understand with a lightning quickness -that something in the nature of reinforcements had arrived. Hastily -picking up his hat, which had fallen off, he stood not upon the order of -his going, but ran. The darkness closed upon him, and Sam, with a -certain smug complacency in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_244" id="page_244">{244}</a></span>evitable in your knight errant who has borne -himself notably well in a difficult situation, turned off the hose and -stood waiting while Kay crossed the lawn.</p> - -<p>“Who was our guest?” he asked.</p> - -<p>Kay seemed a little shaken. She was breathing quickly.</p> - -<p>“It was Claude Bates,” she said, and her voice quivered. So did Sam’s.</p> - -<p>“Claude Bates!” he cried distractedly. “If I had known that, I would -have chased him all the way back to London, kicking him violently.”</p> - -<p>“I wish you had.”</p> - -<p>“How on earth did that fellow come to be here?”</p> - -<p>“I met him outside Victoria Station. I suppose he got into the train and -followed me.”</p> - -<p>“The hound!”</p> - -<p>“I suddenly found him out here in the garden.”</p> - -<p>“The blister!”</p> - -<p>“Do you think somebody will kill him some day?” asked Kay wistfully.</p> - -<p>“I shall have a very poor opinion of the public spirit of the modern -Englishman,” Sam assured her, “if that loathsome leprous growth is -permitted to infest London for long. But in the meantime,” he said, -lowering his voice tenderly, “doesn’t it occur to you that this thing -has been sent for a purpose? Surely it is intended as a proof of the -truth of what I was saying at lunch, that you need——”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Kay; “but we’ll talk about that some other time, if you -don’t mind. I suppose you know you’ve soaked me to the skin.”</p> - -<p>“You?” said Sam incredulously.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_245" id="page_245">{245}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Yes, me.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t mean Bates?”</p> - -<p>“No, I do not mean Bates. Feel my arm if you don’t believe me.”</p> - -<p>Sam extended a reverent hand.</p> - -<p>“What an extraordinarily beautiful arm you have,” he said.</p> - -<p>“An extraordinarily wet arm.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you are wet,” Sam acknowledged. “Well, all I can say is that I am -extremely sorry. I acted for the best; impulsively, let us -say—mistakenly, it may be—but still with the best intentions.”</p> - -<p>“I should hate to be anywhere near when you are doing your worst. Well, -things like this, I suppose, must be——”</p> - -<p>“——after a famous victory. Exactly!”</p> - -<p>“I must run in and change.”</p> - -<p>“Wait!” said Sam. “We must get this thing straight. You will admit now, -I imagine, that you need a strong man’s protection?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t admit anything of the kind.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“But surely, with Claude Bateses surging around you on every side, -dogging your footsteps, forcing their way into your very garden, you -must acknowledge——”</p> - -<p>“I shall catch cold.”</p> - -<p>“Of course! What am I thinking of? You must run in at once.”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“But wait!” said Sam. “I want to get to the bottom<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_246" id="page_246">{246}</a></span> of this. What makes -you think that you and I were not designed for each other from the -beginning of time? I’ve been thinking very deeply about the whole thing, -and it beats me why you can’t see it. To start with, we are so much -alike, we have the same tastes——”</p> - -<p>“Have we?”</p> - -<p>“Most certainly. To take a single instance, we both dislike Claude -Bates. Then there is your love, which I share, for a life in the -country. The birds, the breezes, the trees, the bees—you love them and -so do I. It is my one ambition to amass enough money to enable me to buy -a farm and settle down. You would like that.”</p> - -<p>“You seem to know a lot about me.”</p> - -<p>“I have my information from your uncle.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you and uncle ever do any work at the office? You seem to spend -your whole time talking.”</p> - -<p>“In the process of getting together a paper like Pyke’s <i>Home -Companion</i>, there come times when a little rest, a little folding of the -hands, is essential. Otherwise the machine would break down. On these -occasions we chat, and when we chat we naturally talk about you.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“Because there is no other subject in which I am in the least -interested. Well, then, returning to what I was saying, we are so much -alike——”</p> - -<p>“They say that people should marry their opposites.”</p> - -<p>“Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i> has exploded that view. Replying to Anxious -(Wigan) in this very issue, Aunt Ysobel says just the contrary.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_247" id="page_247">{247}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“I’ve often wondered who Aunt Ysobel was.”</p> - -<p>“It would be foreign to the policy of Pyke’s <i>Home Companion</i> to reveal -office secrets. You may take it from me that Aunt Ysobel is the goods. -She knows. You might say she knows everything.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder if she knows I’m getting pneumonia.”</p> - -<p>“Good heavens! I was forgetting. I mustn’t keep you standing here for -another instant.”</p> - -<p>“No. Good-bye.”</p> - -<p>“Wait!” said Sam. “While we are on the subject of Aunt Ysobel, I wonder -if you have seen her ruling this week in the case of Romeo -(Middlesbrough)?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t read this week’s number.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! Well, the gist of what she says—I quote from memory—is that there -is nothing wrong in a young man taking a girl to the theatre, provided -that it is a matinée performance. On the contrary, the girl will -consider it a pretty and delicate attention. Now to-morrow will be -Saturday, and I have in my possession two seats for the Winter Garden. -Will you come?”</p> - -<p>“Does Aunt Ysobel say what the significance is if the girl accepts?”</p> - -<p>“It implies that she is beginning to return—slightly, it may be, but -nevertheless perceptibly—the gentleman’s esteem.”</p> - -<p>“I see. Rather serious. I must think this over.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly. And now, if I may suggest it, you really ought to be going -in and changing your dress. You are very wet.”</p> - -<p>“So I am. You seem to know everything—like Aunt Ysobel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_248" id="page_248">{248}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“There is a resemblance, perhaps,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>Hash Todhunter met Sam as he re-entered Mon Repos.</p> - -<p>“Oh, there you are,” said Hash. “There was some people calling, wanting -to see you, a minute ago.”</p> - -<p>“Really? Who?”</p> - -<p>“Well, it was a young female party that come to the door, but I thought -I saw a kind of thickset feller hanging about down on the drive.”</p> - -<p>“My old friends, Thomas G. and Miss Gunn, no doubt. A persistent couple. -Did they leave any message?”</p> - -<p>“No. She asked if you was in, and when I told her you was around -somewhere she said it didn’t matter.”</p> - -<h3>§ 3</h3> - -<p>That night. The apartments of Lord Tilbury.</p> - -<p>“Yes? Yes? This is Lord Tilbury speaking.... Ah, is that you, Twist? -Have you anything to report?”</p> - -<p>“The young woman’s cook has just been round with a message. The young -woman is going with Mr. Shotter to the theatre to-morrow afternoon.”</p> - -<p>“Cor!” said Lord Tilbury.</p> - -<p>He replaced the receiver. He remained for a moment in the deepest -thought. Then, swiftly reaching a decision, he went to the desk and took -out a cable form.</p> - -<p>The wording of the cable gave him some little trouble. The first version -was so condensed that he could not understand it himself. He destroyed -the form and decided that this was no time for that economy which is -instinctive even to the richest men when<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_249" id="page_249">{249}</a></span> writing cables. Taking another -form and recklessly dashing the expense, he informed Mr. Pynsent that, -in spite of the writer’s almost fatherly care, his nephew Samuel had -most unfortunately sneaked off surreptitiously and become entangled with -a young woman residing in the suburbs. He desired Mr. Pynsent to -instruct him in this matter.</p> - -<p>The composition satisfied him. It was a good piece of work. He rang for -an underling and sent him with it to the cable office.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_250" id="page_250">{250}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO<br /><br /> -<small>STORMY TIMES AT MON REPOS</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE are few pleasanter things in life than to sit under one’s own -rooftree and smoke the first pipe of the morning which so sets the seal -on the charms of breakfast. Sam, as he watched Hash clearing away the -remains of as goodly a dish of bacon and eggs and as fragrant a pot of -coffee as ever man had consumed, felt an uplifted thrill of well-being. -It was Saturday morning, and a darned good Saturday morning at -that—mild enough to permit of an open window, yet crisp enough to -justify a glowing fire.</p> - -<p>“Hash,” said Sam, “have you ever felt an almost overwhelming desire to -break into song?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Hash, after consideration.</p> - -<p>“You have never found yourself irresistibly compelled to render some old -Provençal <i>chansonnette</i> breathing of love and youth and romance?”</p> - -<p>“No, I ain’t.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it’s as well. You wouldn’t be good at it, and one must consider -the neighbours. But I may tell you that I am feeling the urge to-day. -What’s that thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_251" id="page_251">{251}</a></span> of Browning’s that you’re always quoting? Ah, yes!</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘The morning’s at seven;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hillside’s dew-pearled.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God’s in his heaven;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All’s right with the world.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>That is how I feel.”</p> - -<p>“How’d you like this bacon?” inquired Hash, picking up a derelict slice -and holding it against the light as if it were some rare <i>objet d’art</i>.</p> - -<p>Sam perceived that his audience was not attuned to the lyrical note.</p> - -<p>“I am too spiritual to be much of a judge of these things,” he said, -“but as far as I could gather it seemed all right.”</p> - -<p>“Ha’penny a pound cheaper than the last,” said Hash with sober triumph.</p> - -<p>“Indeed? Well, as I was saying, life seems decidedly tolerable to-day. I -am taking Miss Derrick to the theatre this afternoon, so I shall not be -back until lateish. Before I go, therefore, I have something to say to -you, Hash. I noticed a disposition on your part yesterday to try to -disintegrate our odd-job man. This must not be allowed to grow upon you. -When I return this evening I shall expect to find him all in one piece.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right, Sam,” replied Mr. Todhunter cordially. “All that -’appened there was that I let myself get what I might call rather ’asty. -I been thinking it over, and I’ve got nothing against the feller.”</p> - -<p>This was true. Sleep, which knits up the ravelled sleeve of care, had -done much to soothe the troubled spirit of Hash Todhunter. The healing -effect of a night’s slumber had been to convince him that he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_252" id="page_252">{252}</a></span> -wronged Claire. He proceeded to get Sam’s expert views on this.</p> - -<p>“Suppose it was this way, Sam: Suppose a feller’s young lady went and -give another feller a cup of hot tea and cut him a slice of cake. That -wouldn’t ’ave to mean that she was flirting with ’im, would it?”</p> - -<p>“Not at all,” said Sam warmly. “Far from it. I would call it evidence of -the kind heart rather than the frivolous mind.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!”</p> - -<p>“I may be dangerously modern,” said Sam, “but my view—and I give it -fearlessly—is that a girl may cut many a slice of cake and still remain -a good, sweet, womanly woman.”</p> - -<p>“You see,” argued Hash, “he was wet.”</p> - -<p>“Who was wet?”</p> - -<p>“This feller Twist. Along of washing the dog. And Claire, she took and -give him a nice cup of hot tea and a slice of cake. Upset me at the -time, I’ll own, but I see where maybe I done ’er an injustice.”</p> - -<p>“You certainly did, Hash. That girl is always doing that sort of thing -out of pure nobility of nature. Why, the first morning I was here she -gave me a complete breakfast—eggs, bacon, toast, coffee, marmalade and -everything.”</p> - -<p>“No, did she?”</p> - -<p>“You bet she did. She’s a jewel, and you’re lucky to get her.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said Hash with fervour.</p> - -<p>He gathered up the tray alertly and bore it downstairs to the kitchen, -where Chimp Twist eyed him warily. Although on his return to the house -on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_253" id="page_253">{253}</a></span> previous night Chimp had suffered no injury at Hash’s hands, he -attributed this solely to the intervention of Sam, who had insisted on a -formal reconciliation; and he had just heard the front door bang behind -Sam. A nervous man who shrank from personal violence, particularly when -it promised to be so one-sided as in his present society, Chimp felt -apprehensive.</p> - -<p>He was reassured by the geniality of his companion’s manner.</p> - -<p>“Nice day,” said Hash.</p> - -<p>“Lovely,” said Chimp, relieved.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>As that dog ’ad ’er breakfast?”</p> - -<p>“She was eating a shoe when I saw her last.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, well, maybe that’ll do her till dinnertime. Nice dog.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes.”</p> - -<p>“Nice weather.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes.”</p> - -<p>“If the rain ’olds off, it’ll be a regular nice day.”</p> - -<p>“It certainly will.”</p> - -<p>“And if it rains,” continued Hash, sunnily optimistic, “I see by the -paper that the farmers need it.”</p> - -<p>It was a scene which would have rejoiced the heart of Henry Ford or any -other confirmed peacemaker; and Chimp, swift, in his canny fashion, to -take advantage of his companion’s miraculous cordiality, put a tentative -question.</p> - -<p>“Sleep well last night?”</p> - -<p>“Like a top.”</p> - -<p>“So did I. Say,” said Chimp enthusiastically, “that’s a swell bed I’ve -got.”</p> - -<p>“Ah?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_254" id="page_254">{254}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, that’s one swell bed. And a dandy room too. And I been -thinking it over, and it don’t seem right that I should have that dandy -room and that swell bed, seeing that I came here after you. So what say -we exchange?”</p> - -<p>“Change rooms?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; you have my swell big front room and I have your poky little -back room.”</p> - -<p>The one fault which undoes diplomatists more than any other is the -temptation to be too elaborate. If it had been merely a case of -exchanging rooms, as two medieval monarchs, celebrating a truce, might -have exchanged chargers and suits of armour, Hash would probably have -consented. He would have thought it silly, but he would have done it by -way of a gesture indicating his opinion of the world’s excellence this -morning and of his desire to show Mr. Twist that he had forgiven him and -wished him well. But the way the other put it made it impossible for any -man feeling as generous and amiable as he did to become a party to a -scheme for turning this charming fellow out of a swell front room and -putting him in a poky back one.</p> - -<p>“Couldn’t do it,” he said.</p> - -<p>“I cert’nly wish you would.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Hash. “No; couldn’t do it.”</p> - -<p>Chimp sighed and returned to his solitaire. Hash, full of the milk of -human kindness, went out into the garden. It had occurred to him that at -about this time of day Claire generally took a breather in the open -after the rough work of making the beds. She was strolling up and down -the gravel path.</p> - -<p>“Hullo,” she said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_255" id="page_255">{255}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Hullo,” said Hash. “Nice day.”</p> - -<p>A considerable proportion of the pathos of life comes from the -misunderstandings that arise between male and female through the -inability of a man with an untrained voice to convey the emotions -underlying his words. Hash supposed that he had spoken in a way that -would show Claire that he considered her an angel of light and a credit -to her sex. If he was slightly more formal than usual, that was because -he was feeling embarrassed at the thought of the injustice he had done -her at their last meeting.</p> - -<p>Claire, however, noting the formality—for it was customary with him to -couch his morning’s greeting in some such phrase as “Hullo, ugly!” or -“What cheer, face!”—attributed it to that growing coldness of which she -had recently become aware. Her heart sank. She became provocative.</p> - -<p>“How’s Mr. Twist this morning?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he’s fine.”</p> - -<p>“Not been quarrelling with him, have you?”</p> - -<p>“Who, me?” cried Hash, shocked. “Why, him and me is the best of -friends!”</p> - -<p>“Oh?”</p> - -<p>“We just been having a chat.”</p> - -<p>“About me?”</p> - -<p>“No; about the weather and the dog and how well we slept last night.”</p> - -<p>Claire scraped at the gravel with the toe of her shoe.</p> - -<p>“Oh! Well, I’ve got to go and wash the dishes,” she said. “Goo’ -mornin’.”</p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p>Hash Todhunter was not a swift-thinking man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_256" id="page_256">{256}</a></span> Nor was he one of those -practised amateurs of the sex who can read volumes in a woman’s glance -and see in a flash exactly what she means when she scrapes arabesques on -a gravel path with the toe of her shoe. For some three hours and more, -therefore, he remained in a state of perfect content. And then suddenly, -while smoking a placid after-luncheon pipe, his mood changed and there -began to seep into the hinterlands of his mind the idea that in Claire’s -manner at their recent meeting there had been something decidedly -peculiar.</p> - -<p>He brooded over this; and as the lunch which he had cooked and eaten -fought what was for the moment a winning battle with his organs of -digestion, there crept over him a sombre alarm. Slowly, but with a -persistence not to be denied, the jealousy of which sleep had cured him -began to return. He blew out a cloud of tobacco smoke and through it -stared bleakly at Chimp Twist, who was in a reverie on the other side of -the kitchen table.</p> - -<p>It came to him, not for the first time, that he did not like Chimp’s -looks. Handsome not even his mother could have called Chimp Twist; and -yet there was about him a certain something calculated to inspire -uneasiness in an engaged man. He had that expression in his eyes which -home wreckers wear in the movies. A human snake, if ever there was one, -felt Hash, as his interior mechanism strove vainly to overcome that -which he had thrust upon it.</p> - -<p>Nor did his recollection of Claire’s conversation bring any reassurance. -So brief it had been that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_257" id="page_257">{257}</a></span> could remember everything she had said. -And it had all been about that black-hearted little object across the -table.</p> - -<p>“How’s Mr. Twist this morning?” A significant question. “Not been -quarrelling with him, have you?” A fishy remark. And then he had said -that they had been having a chat, and she had asked, “About me?”</p> - -<p>So moved was Hash by the recollection of this that he took the pipe out -of his mouth and addressed his companion with an abruptness that was -almost violent:</p> - -<p>“Hey!”</p> - -<p>Chimp looked up with a start. He had been pondering whether it might not -possibly come within the scope of an odd-job man’s duties to put a -ladder against the back of the house and climb up it and slap a coat of -paint on the window frame of the top back room. Then, when Hash was -cooking dinner——</p> - -<p>“Hullo?” he said, blinking. He was surprised to see that the other, who -had been geniality itself during lunch, was regarding him with a cold -and suspicious hostility.</p> - -<p>“Want to ask you something,” said Hash.</p> - -<p>“Spill it,” said Chimp, and smiled nervously.</p> - -<p>It was an unfortunate thing for him to have done, for he did not look -his best when smiling. It seemed to Hash that his smile was furtive and -cunning.</p> - -<p>“Want to know,” said Hash, “if there are any larks on?”</p> - -<p>“Eh?”</p> - -<p>“You and my young lady next door—there’s nothing what you might call -between you, is there?”</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Course not!” cried Chimp in agitation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_258" id="page_258">{258}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Well,” said Hash weightily, “there better hadn’t be. See?”</p> - -<p>He rose, feeling a little better, and, his suspicions momentarily -quieted, he proceeded to the garden, where he chirruped for a while over -the fence. This producing no response, he climbed the fence and peeped -in through the kitchen window of San Rafael. The kitchen was empty.</p> - -<p>“Gone for a walk,” diagnosed Hash, and felt a sense of injury. If Claire -wanted to go for a walk, why hadn’t she asked him to come too? He did -not like it. It seemed to him that love must have grown cold. He -returned to Mon Repos and embarrassed the sensitive Mr. Twist by staring -at him for twenty minutes almost without a blink.</p> - -<p>Claire had not gone for a walk. She had taken the 12:10 train to -Victoria and had proceeded thence to Mr. Braddock’s house in John -Street. It was her intention to put the facts before her mother and from -that experienced woman to seek advice in this momentous crisis of her -life. Her faith in Aunt Ysobel had not weakened, but there is never any -harm done by getting the opinion of a second specialist. For Claire’s -uneasiness had been growing ever since that talk with Hash across the -fence that morning. His manner had seemed to her peculiar. Nor did her -recollection of his conversation bring any reassurance.</p> - -<p>“How’s Mr. Twist this morning?” she had asked. And instead of looking -like one about to joust, he had replied heartily, “Oh, he’s fine.” A -disturbing remark.</p> - -<p>And then he had gone on to say that he and Chimp were the best of -friends. It was with tight lips and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_259" id="page_259">{259}</a></span> hard eyes that Claire, replying -absently to the paternal badinage of Sleddon, the butler, made her way -into her mother’s presence. Mrs. Lippett, consulted, proved -uncompromisingly pro-Aunt Ysobel.</p> - -<p>“That’s what I call a sensible woman, Clara.”</p> - -<p>“Claire,” corrected her daughter mechanically.</p> - -<p>“She knows.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I think.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, she’s suffered, that woman has,” said Mrs. Lippett. “You can see -that. Stands to reason she couldn’t know so much about life if she -hadn’t suffered.”</p> - -<p>“Then you’d go on testing him?” said Claire anxiously.</p> - -<p>“Test him more and more,” said Mrs. Lippett. “There’s no other way. -You’ve got to remember, dearie, that your Clarence is a sailor, and -sailors has to be handled firm. They say sailors don’t care. I say they -must be made to care. That’s what I say.”</p> - -<p>Claire made the return journey on an omnibus. For purposes of thought -there is nothing like a ride on the top of an omnibus. By four o’clock, -when the vehicle put her down at the corner of Burberry Road, her -resolution was as chilled steel and she had got her next move all -planned out. She went into the kitchen for a few moments, and coming out -into the garden, perceived Hash roaming the lawn of Mon Repos.</p> - -<p>“Hi!” she called, and into her voice managed to project a note of -care-free liveliness.</p> - -<p>“Where you been?” inquired Hash.</p> - -<p>“I been up seeing mother.... Is Mr. Twist indoors?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_260" id="page_260">{260}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“What do you want with Mr. Twist?”</p> - -<p>“Just wanted to give him this—something I promised him.”</p> - -<p>This was an envelope, lilac in colour and scent, and Hash, taking it and -gazing upon it as he might have gazed upon an adder nestling in his -palm, made a disturbing discovery.</p> - -<p>“There’s something inside this.”</p> - -<p>“Of course there is. If there wasn’t, what ’ud I be giving it him for?”</p> - -<p>Hash’s fingers kneaded the envelope restlessly.</p> - -<p>“What you writing to him about?”</p> - -<p>“Never mind.”</p> - -<p>“There’s something else inside this ’ere envelope besides a letter. -There’s something that sort of crinkles when you squeeze it.”</p> - -<p>“Just a little present I promised to give him.”</p> - -<p>A monstrous suspicion flamed in Hash Todhunter’s mind. It seemed -inconceivable, and yet—— He tore open the envelope and found his -suspicion fulfilled. Between his fingers there dangled a lock of -tow-coloured hair.</p> - -<p>“When you’ve finished opening other people’s letters——” said Claire.</p> - -<p>She looked at him, hopefully at first, and then with a growing despair. -For Hash’s face was wooden and expressionless.</p> - -<p>“I’m glad,” said Hash huskily at length. “I been worried, but now I’m -not worried. I been worried because I been worrying about you and me not -being suited to one another and ’aving acted ’asty; but now I’m not -worried, because I see there’s another feller<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_261" id="page_261">{261}</a></span> you’re fond of, so the -worry about what was to be done and everything don’t worry me no more. -He’s in the kitchen,” said Hash in a gentle rumble. “I’ll give him this -and explain ’ow it come to be opened in error.”</p> - -<p>Nothing could have exceeded the dignity of his manner, but there are -moments when women chafe at masculine dignity.</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you going to knock his head off?” demanded Claire distractedly.</p> - -<p>“Me?” said Hash, looking as nearly as he could like the picture of Saint -Sebastian in the Louvre. “Me? Why should I knock the pore feller’s ’ead -off? I’m glad. Because I was worried, and now I’m not worried—see what -I mean?”</p> - -<p>Before Claire’s horrified eyes and through a world that rocked and -danced, he strode toward the kitchen of Mon Repos, bearing the envelope -daintily between finger and thumb. He seemed calm and at peace. He -looked as if he might be humming.</p> - -<p>Inside the kitchen, however, his manner changed. Chimp Twist, glancing -up from his solitaire, observed in the doorway, staring down at him, a -face that seemed to his excited imagination to have been equipped with -searchlights instead of eyes. Beneath these searchlights was a mouth -that appeared to be gnashing its teeth. And from this mouth, in a brief -interval of gnashing, proceeded dreadful words.</p> - -<p>The first that can be printed were the words “Put ’em up!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Twist, rising, slid like an eel to the other side of the table.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_262" id="page_262">{262}</a></span></p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” he demanded in considerable agitation.</p> - -<p>“I’ll show you what’s the matter,” said Hash, after another verbal -interlude which no compositor would be allowed by his union to set up. -“Come out from behind that table like a man and put your ’ands up!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Twist rejected this invitation.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to take your ’ead,” continued Hash, sketching out his plans, -“and I’m going to pull it off, and then——”</p> - -<p>What he proposed to do after this did not intrigue Chimp. He foiled a -sudden dash with an inspired leap.</p> - -<p>“Come ’ere,” said Hash coaxingly.</p> - -<p>His mind clearing a little, he perceived that the root of the trouble, -the obstacle which was standing in the way of his aims, was the table. -It was a heavy table, but with a sharp heave he tilted it on its side -and pushed it toward the stove. Chimp, his first line of defense thus -demolished, shot into the open, and Hash was about to make another -offensive movement when the dog Amy, who had been out in the garden -making a connoisseur’s inspection of the dustbin, strolled in and -observed with pleasure that a romp was in progress.</p> - -<p>Amy was by nature a thoughtful dog. Most of her time, when she was not -eating or sleeping, she spent in wandering about with wrinkled forehead, -puzzling over the cosmos. But she could unbend. Like so many -philosophers, she loved an occasional frolic, and this one appeared to -be of exceptional promise.</p> - -<p>The next moment Hash, leaping forward, found his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_263" id="page_263">{263}</a></span> movements impeded by -what seemed like several yards of dog. It was hard for him to tell -without sorting the tangle out whether she was between his legs or -leaning on his shoulder. Certainly she was licking his face; but on the -other hand, he had just kicked her with a good deal of violence, which -seemed to indicate that she was on a lower level.</p> - -<p>“Get out!” cried Hash.</p> - -<p>The remark was addressed to Amy, but the advice it contained was so -admirable that Chimp Twist acted on it without hesitation. In the swirl -of events he had found himself with a clear path to the door, and along -this path he shot without delay. And not until he had put the entire -length of Burberry Road between him and his apparently insane aggressor -did he pause.</p> - -<p>Then he mopped his forehead and said, “Gee!”</p> - -<p>It seemed to Chimp Twist that a long walk was indicated—a walk so long -that by the time he reached Mon Repos again, Sam, his preserver, would -have returned and would be on the spot to protect him.</p> - -<p>Hash, meanwhile, raged, baffled. He had extricated himself from Amy and -had rushed out into the road, but long ere that his victim had -disappeared. He went back to try to find Amy and rebuke her, but Amy had -disappeared too. In spite of her general dreaminess, there was sterling -common sense in Amy. She knew when and when not to be among those -present.</p> - -<p>Hash returned to his kitchen and remained there, seething. He had been -seething for perhaps a quarter of an hour, when the front doorbell rang. -He climbed the stairs gloomily; and such was his disturbed frame<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_264" id="page_264">{264}</a></span> of -mind that not even the undeniable good looks of the visitor who had rung -could soothe him.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Shotter in?”</p> - -<p>He recognised her now. It was the young party that had called on the -previous evening, asking for Sam. And, as on that occasion, he seemed to -see through the growing darkness the same sturdy male person hovering -about in the shadows.</p> - -<p>“No, miss, he ain’t.”</p> - -<p>“Expecting him back soon?”</p> - -<p>“No, miss, I ain’t. He’s gone to the theatre, to a mat-i-nay.”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” said the lady, “is that so?” And she made a sudden, curious -gesture with her parasol.</p> - -<p>“Sorry,” said Hash, melting a little, for her eyes were very bright.</p> - -<p>“Can’t be helped. You all alone here then?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Tough luck.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t mind, miss,” said Hash, pleased by her sympathy.</p> - -<p>“Well, I won’t keep you. ’Devening.”</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Evening, miss.”</p> - -<p>Hash closed the door. Whistling a little, for his visitor had lightened -somehow the depression which was gnawing at him, he descended the stairs -and entered the kitchen.</p> - -<p>Something which appeared at first acquaintance to be the ceiling, the -upper part of the house and a ton of bricks thrown in for good measure -hit Hash on the head and he subsided gently on the floor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_265" id="page_265">{265}</a></span></p> - -<h3>§ 3</h3> - -<p>Soapy Molloy came to the front door and opened it. He was a little pale, -and he breathed heavily.</p> - -<p>“All right?” said his wife eagerly.</p> - -<p>“All right.”</p> - -<p>“Tied him up?”</p> - -<p>“With a clothesline.”</p> - -<p>“How about if he hollers?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve put a duster in his mouth.”</p> - -<p>“At-a-boy!” said Mrs. Molloy. “Then let’s get action.”</p> - -<p>They climbed the stairs to where the cistern stood, and Mr. Molloy, -removing his coat, rolled up his sleeves.</p> - -<p>Some minutes passed, and then Mr. Molloy, red in the face and wet in the -arm, made a remark.</p> - -<p>“But it must be there!” cried his wife.</p> - -<p>“It isn’t.”</p> - -<p>“You haven’t looked.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve looked everywhere. There couldn’t be a toothpick in that thing -without I’d have found it.” He expelled a long breath and his face grew -bleak. “Know what I think?”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“That little oil can, Chimp, has slipped one over on us—told us the -wrong place.”</p> - -<p>The plausibility of this theory was so obvious that Mrs. Molloy made no -attempt to refute it. She bit her lip in silence.</p> - -<p>“Then let’s you and me get busy and find the right place,” she said at -length, with the splendid fortitude<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_266" id="page_266">{266}</a></span> of a great woman. “We know the -stuff’s in the house somewheres, and we got the place to ourselves.”</p> - -<p>“It’s taking a chance,” said Mr. Molloy doubtfully. “Suppose somebody -was to come and find us here.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, all you would do would be to just simply haul off and bust -them one, same as you did the hired man.”</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>M, yes,” said Mr. Molloy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_267" id="page_267">{267}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE<br /><br /> -<small>SOAPY MOLLOY’S BUSY AFTERNOON</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HE unwelcome discovery of the perfidy of Chimp Twist had been made by -Mr. Molloy and his bride at about twenty minutes past four. At 4:30 a -natty two-seater car drew up at the gate of San Rafael and Willoughby -Braddock alighted. Driving aimlessly about the streets of London some -forty minutes earlier, and feeling rather at a loose end, it had -occurred to him that a pleasant way of passing the evening would be to -go down to Valley Fields and get Kay to give him a cup of tea.</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock was in a mood of the serenest happiness. And if this seems -strange, seeing that only recently he had had a proposal of marriage -rejected, it should be explained that he had regretted that hasty -proposal within two seconds of dropping the letter in the letter box. -And he had come to the conclusion that, much as he liked Kay, what had -induced him to offer her his hand and heart had been the fact that he -had had a good deal of champagne at dinner and that its after effects -had consisted of a sort of wistful melancholy which had removed for the -time his fundamental distaste for matrimony. He did not want mat<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_268" id="page_268">{268}</a></span>rimony; -he wanted adventure. He had not yet entirely abandoned hope that some -miracle might occur to remove Mrs. Lippett from the scheme of things; -and when that happened, he wished to be free.</p> - -<p>Yes, felt Willoughby Braddock, everything had turned out extremely well. -He pushed open the gate of San Rafael with the debonair flourish of a -man without entanglements. As he did so, the front door opened and Mr. -Wrenn came out.</p> - -<p>“Oh, hullo,” said Mr. Braddock. “Kay in?”</p> - -<p>“I am afraid not,” said Mr. Wrenn. “She has gone to the theatre.” -Politeness to a visitor wrestled with the itch to be away. “I fear I -have an engagement also, for which I am already a little late. I -promised Cornelius——”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right. I’ll go in next door and have a chat with Sam -Shotter.”</p> - -<p>“He has gone to the theatre with Kay.”</p> - -<p>“A washout, in short,” said Mr. Braddock with undiminished cheerfulness. -“Right-ho! Then I’ll pop.”</p> - -<p>“But, my dear fellow, you mustn’t run away like this,” said Mr. Wrenn -with remorse. “Why don’t you come in and have a cup of tea and wait for -Kay? Claire will bring you some if you ring.”</p> - -<p>“Something in that,” agreed Mr. Braddock. “Sound, very sound.”</p> - -<p>He spoke a few genial words of farewell and proceeded to the -drawing-room, where he rang the bell. Nothing ensuing, he went to the -top of the kitchen stairs and called down.</p> - -<p>“I say!” Silence from below. “I say!” fluted Mr. Braddock once more, and -now it seemed to him that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_269" id="page_269">{269}</a></span> the silence had been broken by a sound—a -rummy sound—a sound that was like somebody sobbing.</p> - -<p>He went down the stairs. It was somebody sobbing. Bunched up on a chair, -with her face buried in her arms, that weird girl Claire was crying like -the dickens.</p> - -<p>“I say!” said Mr. Braddock.</p> - -<p>There is this peculiar quality about tears—that they can wash away in a -moment the animosity of a lifetime. For years Willoughby Braddock had -been on terms of distant hostility with this girl. Even apart from the -fact that that affair of the onion had not ceased to rankle in his -bosom, there had been other causes of war between them. Mr. Braddock -still suspected that it was Claire who, when on the occasion of his -eighteenth birthday he had called at Midways in a top hat, had flung a -stone at that treasured object from the recesses of a shrubbery. One of -those things impossible of proof, the outrage had been allowed to become -a historic mystery; but Willoughby Braddock had always believed the -hidden hand to be Claire’s, and his attitude toward her from that day -had been one of stiff disapproval.</p> - -<p>But now, seeing her weeping and broken before him, with all the infernal -cheek which he so deprecated swept away on a wave of woe, his heart -softened. It has been a matter of much speculation among historians what -Wellington would have done if Napoleon had cried at Waterloo.</p> - -<p>“I say,” said Mr. Braddock, “what’s the matter? Anything up?”</p> - -<p>The sound of his voice seemed to penetrate Clair<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_270" id="page_270">{270}</a></span>e’s grief. She sat up -and looked at him damply.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Braddock,” she moaned, “I’m so wretched! I am so miserable, Mr. -Braddock!”</p> - -<p>“There, there!” said Willoughby Braddock.</p> - -<p>“How was I to know?”</p> - -<p>“Know what?”</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t tell.”</p> - -<p>“Tell which?”</p> - -<p>“I never had a notion he would act like that.”</p> - -<p>“Who would like what?”</p> - -<p>“Hash.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve spoiled the hash?” said Mr. Braddock, still out of his depth.</p> - -<p>“My Hash—Clarence. He took it the wrong way.”</p> - -<p>At last Mr. Braddock began to see daylight. She had cooked hash for this -Clarence, whoever he might be, and he had swallowed it in so erratic a -manner that it had choked him.</p> - -<p>“Is he dead?” he asked in a hushed voice.</p> - -<p>A piercing scream rang through the kitchen.</p> - -<p>“Oh! Oh! Oh!”</p> - -<p>“My dear old soul!”</p> - -<p>“He wouldn’t do that, would he?”</p> - -<p>“Do what?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Braddock, do say he wouldn’t do that!”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean by ‘that’?”</p> - -<p>“Go and kill himself.”</p> - -<p>“Who?”</p> - -<p>“Hash.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock removed the perfectly folded silk handkerchief from his -breast pocket and passed it across his forehead.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_271" id="page_271">{271}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Look here,” he said limply, “you couldn’t tell me the whole thing from -the beginning in a few simple words, could you?”</p> - -<p>He listened with interest as Claire related the events of the day.</p> - -<p>“Then Clarence is Hash?” he said.</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“And Hash is Clarence?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; everyone calls him Hash.”</p> - -<p>“That was what was puzzling me,” said Mr. Braddock, relieved. “That was -the snag that I got up against all the time. Now that is clear, we can -begin to examine this thing in a calm and judicial spirit. Let’s see if -I’ve got it straight. You read this stuff in the paper and started -testing him—is that right?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. And instead of jousting, he just turned all cold-like and broke -off the engagement.”</p> - -<p>“I see. Well, dash it, the thing’s simple. All you want is for some -polished man of the world to take the blighter aside and apprise him of -the facts. Shall I pop round and see him now?”</p> - -<p>Claire’s tear-stained face lit up as if a light had been switched on -behind her eyes. She eyed Mr. Braddock devotedly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, if you only would!”</p> - -<p>“Of course I will—like a shot.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you are good! I’m sorry I threw that onion at you, Mr. Braddock.”</p> - -<p>“Fault’s on both sides,” said Mr. Braddock magnanimously. “Now you stop -crying, like a good girl, and powder your nose and all that, and I’ll -have the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_272" id="page_272">{272}</a></span> lad round all pleasant and correct in a couple of minutes.”</p> - -<p>He patted Claire’s head in a brotherly fashion and trotted out through -the back door.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. Molloy, searching feverishly in the -drawing-room of Mon Repos, heard a distant tinkle and looked at each -other with a wild surmise.</p> - -<p>“It’s the back doorbell,” said Dolly.</p> - -<p>“I told you,” said Mr. Molloy sombrely. “I knew this would happen. -What’ll we do?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Molloy was not the woman to be shaken for long.</p> - -<p>“Why, go downstairs and answer it,” she said. “It’s prob’ly only a -tradesman come with a loaf of bread or something. He’ll think you’re the -help.”</p> - -<p>“And if he doesn’t,” replied Mr. Molloy with some bitterness, “I suppose -I bust him one with the meat ax. Looks to me as if I shall have to lay -out the whole darned population of this blamed place before I’m -through.”</p> - -<p>“Sweetie mustn’t be cross.”</p> - -<p>“Sweetie’s about fed up,” said Mr. Molloy sombrely.</p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p>Expecting, when he opened the back door, to see a tradesman with a -basket on his arm, Soapy Molloy found no balm to his nervous system in -the apparition of a young man of the leisured classes in a faultlessly -cut grey suit. He gaped at Mr. Braddock.</p> - -<p>“Hullo,” said Mr. Braddock.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_273" id="page_273">{273}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Hullo,” said Soapy.</p> - -<p>“Are you Hash?” inquired the ambassador.</p> - -<p>“Pardon?”</p> - -<p>“Is your name Clarence?”</p> - -<p>In happier circumstances Soapy would have denied the charge indignantly; -but now he decided that it was politic to be whatever anyone wished him -to be.</p> - -<p>“That’s me, brother,” he said.</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock greatly disliked being called brother, but he made no -comment.</p> - -<p>“Well, I just buzzed round,” he said, “to tell you that everything’s all -right.”</p> - -<p>Soapy was far from agreeing with him. He was almost equally far from -understanding a word that this inexplicable visitor was saying. He -coughed loudly, to drown a strangled sound that had proceeded from the -gagged and bound Hash, whom he had deposited in a corner by the range.</p> - -<p>“That’s good,” he said.</p> - -<p>“About the girl, I mean. Claire, you know. I was in the kitchen next -door a moment ago, and she was crying and howling and all that because -she thought you didn’t love her any more.”</p> - -<p>“Too bad,” said Mr. Molloy.</p> - -<p>“It seems,” went on Mr. Braddock, “that she read something in a paper, -written by some silly ass, which said that she ought to test your -affection by pretending to flirt with some other cove. And when she did, -you broke off the engagement. And the gist, if you understand me, of -what I buzzed round to say is that she loves you still and was only -fooling when she sent that other bloke the lock of hair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_274" id="page_274">{274}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Ah?” said Mr. Molloy.</p> - -<p>“So it’s all right, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“It’s all right by me,” said Mr. Molloy, wishing—for it sounded -interesting—that he knew what all this was about.</p> - -<p>“Then that’s that, what?”</p> - -<p>“You said it, brother.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock paused. He seemed disappointed at a certain lack of emotion -on his companion’s part.</p> - -<p>“She’s rather expecting you to dash round right away, you know—fold her -in your arms, and all that.”</p> - -<p>This was a complication which Soapy had not foreseen.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll tell you,” he said. “I’ve a lot of work to do around this -house and I don’t quite see how I can get away. Say, listen, brother, -you tell her I’ll be round later on in the evening.”</p> - -<p>“All right. I’m glad everything’s satisfactory. She’s a nice girl -really.”</p> - -<p>“None better,” said Mr. Molloy generously.</p> - -<p>“I still think she threw a stone at my top hat that day, but dash it,” -said Mr. Braddock warmly, “let the dead past bury its dead, what?”</p> - -<p>“Couldn’t do a wiser thing,” said Mr. Molloy.</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>He closed the door; and having breathed a little stertorously, mounted -the stairs.</p> - -<p>“Who was it?” called Dolly from the first landing.</p> - -<p>“Some nut babbling about a girl.”</p> - -<p>“Oh? Well, I’m having a hunt round in the best bedroom. You go on -looking in the drawing-room.”</p> - -<p>Soapy turned his steps towards the drawing-room,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_275" id="page_275">{275}</a></span> but he did not reach -it. For as he was preparing to cross the threshold, the front doorbell -rang.</p> - -<p>It seemed to Soapy that he was being called upon to endure more than man -was ever intended to bear. That, at least, was his view as he dragged -his reluctant feet to the door. It was only when he opened it that he -realised that he had underestimated the malevolence of fate. Standing on -the top step was a policeman.</p> - -<p>“Hell!” cried Soapy. And while we blame him for the intemperate -ejaculation, we must in fairness admit that the situation seemed to call -for some such remark. He stood goggling, a chill like the stroke of an -icy finger running down his spine.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Evening, sir,” said the policeman. “Mr. Shotter?”</p> - -<p>Soapy’s breath returned.</p> - -<p>“That’s me,” he said huskily. This thing, coming so soon after his -unrehearsed impersonation of Hash Todhunter, made him feel the sort of -dizzy feeling which a small-part actor must experience who has to open a -play as Jervis, a footman, and then rush up to his dressing room, make a -complete change and return five minutes later as Lord George Spelvin, -one of Lady Hemmingway’s guests at The Towers.</p> - -<p>The policeman fumbled in the recesses of his costume.</p> - -<p>“Noo resident, sir, I think?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Then you will doubtless be glad,” said the policeman, shutting his eyes -and beginning to speak with great rapidity, as if he were giving -evidence in court, “of the opportunity to support a -charitibulorganiza<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_276" id="page_276">{276}</a></span>tion which is not only most deserving in itself but -is connected with a body of men to ’oom you as a house-’older will be -the first to admit that you owe the safety of your person and the -tranquillity of your home—the police,” explained the officer, opening -his eyes.</p> - -<p>Mr. Molloy did not look on the force in quite this light, but he could -not hurt the man’s feelings by saying so.</p> - -<p>“This charitibulorganizationtowhichIallude,” resumed the constable, -shutting his eyes again, “is the Policeman’s Orphanage, for which I have -been told of—one of several others—to sell tickets for the annual -concert of, to be ’eld at the Oddfellows ‘All in Ogilvy Street on the -coming sixteenth prox. Tickets, which may be purchased in any quantity -or number, consist of the five-shilling ticket, the half-crown ticket, -the two-shilling ticket, the shilling ticket and the sixpenny ticket.” -He opened his eyes. “May I have the pleasure of selling you and your -good lady a couple of the five-shilling?”</p> - -<p>“If I may add such weight as I possess to the request, I should -certainly advocate the purchase, Mr. Shotter. It is a most excellent and -deserving charity.”</p> - -<p>The speaker was a gentleman in clerical dress who had appeared from -nowhere and was standing at the constable’s side. His voice caused Soapy -a certain relief; for when, a moment before, a second dark figure had -suddenly manifested itself on the top step, he had feared that the -strain of the larger life was causing him to see double.</p> - -<p>“I take it that I am addressing Mr. Shotter?” continued the new-comer. -He was a hatchet-faced man<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_277" id="page_277">{277}</a></span> with penetrating eyes and for one awful -moment he had looked to Soapy exactly like Sherlock Holmes. “I have just -taken up my duties as vicar of this parish, and I am making a little -preliminary round of visits so that I may become acquainted with my -parishioners. Mr. Cornelius, the house agent, very kindly gave me a list -of names. May I introduce myself?—the Rev. Aubrey Jerningham.”</p> - -<p>It has been well said that the world knows little of its greatest men. -This name, which would have thrilled Kay Derrick, made no impression -upon Soapy Molloy. He was not a great reader; and when he did read, it -was something a little lighter and more on the zippy side than <i>Is There -a Hell?</i></p> - -<p>“How do?” he said gruffly.</p> - -<p>“And ’ow many of the five-shilling may I sell you and your good lady?” -inquired the constable. His respect for the cloth had kept him silent -through the recent conversation, but now he seemed to imply that -business is business.</p> - -<p>“It is a most excellent charity,” said the Rev. Aubrey, edging past -Soapy in spite of that sufferer’s feeble effort to block the way. “And I -understand that several highly competent performers will appear on the -platform. I am right, am I not, officer?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, you are quite right. In the first part of the program -Constable Purvis will render the ’Oly City—no, I’m a liar, Asleep on -the Deep; Constable Jukes will render imitations of well-known footlight -celebrities ’oo are familiartoyouall; Inspector Oakshott will render -conjuring tricks; Constable——”</p> - -<p>“An excellent evening’s entertainment, in fact,” said<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_278" id="page_278">{278}</a></span> the Rev. Aubrey. -“I am taking the chair, I may mention.”</p> - -<p>“And the vicar is taking the chair,” said the policeman, swift to seize -upon this added attraction. “So ’ow many of the five-shilling may I sell -you and your good lady, sir?”</p> - -<p>Soapy, like Chimp, was a thrifty man; and apart from the expense, his -whole soul shrank from doing anything even remotely calculated to -encourage the force. Nevertheless, he perceived that there was no escape -and decided that it remained only to save as much as possible from the -wreck.</p> - -<p>“Gimme one,” he said, and the words seemed to be torn from him.</p> - -<p>“One only?” said the constable disappointedly. “<span class="lftspc">’</span>Ow about your good -lady?”</p> - -<p>“I’m not married.”</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Ow about your sister?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t a sister.”</p> - -<p>“Then ’ow about if you ’appen to meet one of your gentlemen friends at -the club and he expresses a wish to come along?”</p> - -<p>“Gimme one!” said Soapy.</p> - -<p>The policeman gave him one, received the money, returned a few genial -words of thanks and withdrew. Soapy, going back into the house, was -acutely disturbed to find that the vicar had come too.</p> - -<p>“A most deserving charity,” said the vicar.</p> - -<p>Soapy eyed him bleakly. How did one get rid of vicars? Short of -employing his bride’s universal panacea and hauling off and busting him -one, Soapy could not imagine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_279" id="page_279">{279}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Have you been a resident of Valley Fields long, Mr. Shotter?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“I hope we shall see much of each other.”</p> - -<p>“Do you?” said Soapy wanly.</p> - -<p>“The first duty of a clergyman, in my opinion——”</p> - -<p>Mr. Molloy had no notion of what constituted the first duty of a -clergyman, and he was destined never to find out. For at this moment -there came from the regions above the clear, musical voice of a woman.</p> - -<p>“Sweet-ee!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Molloy started violently. So did the Rev. Aubrey Jerningham.</p> - -<p>“I’m in the bedroom, honey bunch. Come right on up.”</p> - -<p>A dull flush reddened the Rev. Aubrey’s ascetic face.</p> - -<p>“I understood you to say that you were not married, Mr. Shotter,” he -said in a metallic voice.</p> - -<p>“No—er—ah——”</p> - -<p>He caught the Rev. Aubrey’s eye. He was looking as Sherlock Holmes might -have looked had he discovered Doctor Watson stealing his watch.</p> - -<p>“No—I—er—ah——”</p> - -<p>It is not given to every man always to do the right thing in trying -circumstances. Mr. Molloy may be said at this point definitely to have -committed a social blunder. Winking a hideous, distorted wink, he raised -the forefinger of his right hand and with a gruesome archness drove it -smartly in between his visitor’s third and fourth ribs.</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, you know how it is,” he said thickly.</p> - -<p>The Rev. Aubrey Jerningham quivered from head<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_280" id="page_280">{280}</a></span> to heel. He drew himself -up and looked at Soapy. The finger had given him considerable physical -pain, but it was the spiritual anguish that hurt the more.</p> - -<p>“I do, indeed, know how it is,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Man of the world,” said Soapy, relieved.</p> - -<p>“I will wish you good evening, Mr. Shotter,” said the Rev. Aubrey.</p> - -<p>The front door banged. Dolly appeared on the landing.</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you come up?” she said.</p> - -<p>“Because I’m going to lie down,” said Soapy, breathing heavily.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“I want a rest. I need a rest, and I’m going to have it.” Dolly -descended to the hall.</p> - -<p>“Why, you’re looking all in, precious!”</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>All in’ is right. If I don’t ease off for a coupla minutes, you’ll -have to send for an ambulance.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t know as I won’t take a spell myself. It’s kinda dusty -work, hunting around. I’ll go take a breath of air outside at the -back.... Was that somebody else calling just now?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it was.”</p> - -<p>“Gee! These people round these parts don’t seem to have any homes of -their own, do they? Well, I’ll be back in a moment, honey. There’s a -sort of greenhouse place by the back door. Quite likely old Finglass may -have buried the stuff there.”</p> - -<h3>§ 3</h3> - -<p>The Rev. Aubrey Jerningham crossed the little strip of gravel that -served both Mon Repos and San Rafael<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_281" id="page_281">{281}</a></span> as a drive and mounted the steps -to Mr. Wrenn’s front door. He was still quivering.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Wrenn?” he asked of the well-dressed young man who answered the -ring.</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock shook his head. This was the second time in the last five -minutes that he had been taken for the owner of San Rafael; for while -the vicar had worked down Burberry Road from the top, the policeman had -started at the bottom and worked up.</p> - -<p>“Sorry,” he said, “Mr. Wrenn’s out.”</p> - -<p>“I will come in and wait,” said the Rev. Aubrey.</p> - -<p>“Absolutely,” said Mr. Braddock.</p> - -<p>He led the way to the drawing-room, feeling something of the -embarrassment, though in a slighter degree, which this holy man had -inspired in Soapy Molloy. He did not know much about vicars, and rather -wondered how he was to keep the conversation going.</p> - -<p>“Offer you a cup of tea?”</p> - -<p>“No, thank you.”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid,” said Mr. Braddock apologetically, “I don’t know where they -keep the whisky.”</p> - -<p>“I never touch spirits.”</p> - -<p>Conversation languished. Willoughby Braddock began to find his companion -a little damping. Not matey. Seemed to be brooding on something, or Mr. -Braddock was very much mistaken.</p> - -<p>“You’re a clergyman, aren’t you, and all that?” he said, after a pause -of some moments.</p> - -<p>“I am. My name is the Rev. Aubrey Jerningham. I have just taken up my -duties as vicar of this parish.”</p> - -<p>“Ah? Jolly spot.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_282" id="page_282">{282}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Where every prospect pleases,” said the Rev. Aubrey, “and only man is -vile.”</p> - -<p>Silence fell once more. Mr. Braddock searched in his mind for genial -chatter, and found that he was rather short on clerical small talk.</p> - -<p>He thought for a moment of asking his visitor why it was that bishops -wore those rummy bootlace-looking things on their hats—a problem that -had always perplexed him; but decided that the other might take offence -at being urged to give away professional secrets.</p> - -<p>“How’s the choir coming along?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“The choir is quite satisfactory.”</p> - -<p>“That’s good. Organ all right?”</p> - -<p>“Quite, thank you.”</p> - -<p>“Fine!” said Mr. Braddock, feeling that things were beginning to move. -“You know, down where I live, in Wiltshire, the local padres always seem -to have the deuce of a lot of trouble with their organs. Their church -organs, I mean, of course. I’m always getting touched for contributions -to organ funds. Why is that? I’ve often wondered.”</p> - -<p>The Rev. Aubrey Jerningham forbore to follow him into this field of -speculation.</p> - -<p>“Then you do not live here, Mr.——”</p> - -<p>“Braddock’s my name—Willoughby Braddock. Oh, no, I don’t live here. -Just calling. Friend of the family.”</p> - -<p>“Ah? Then you are not acquainted with the—gentleman who lives next -door—Mr. Shotter?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I am! Sam Shotter? He’s one of my best pals. Known him for -years and years and years.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_283" id="page_283">{283}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Indeed? I cannot compliment you upon your choice of associates.”</p> - -<p>“Why, what’s wrong with Sam?”</p> - -<p>“Only this, Mr. Braddock,” said the Rev. Aubrey, his suppressed wrath -boiling over like a kettle: “He is living a life of open sin.”</p> - -<p>“Open which?”</p> - -<p>“Open sin. In the heart of my parish.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t get this. How do you mean—open sin?”</p> - -<p>“I have it from this man Shotter’s own lips that he is a bachelor.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s right.”</p> - -<p>“And yet a few minutes ago I called at his house and found that there -was a woman residing there.”</p> - -<p>“A woman?”</p> - -<p>“A woman.”</p> - -<p>“But there can’t be. Sam’s not that sort of chap. Did you see her?”</p> - -<p>“I did not wait to see her. I heard her voice.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve got it,” said Mr. Braddock acutely. “She must have been a caller; -some casual popper-in, you know.”</p> - -<p>“In that case, what would she be doing in his bedroom?”</p> - -<p>“In his bedroom?”</p> - -<p>“In—his—bedroom! I came here to warn Mr. Wrenn, who, I understand from -Mr. Cornelius, has a young niece, to be most careful to allow nothing in -the shape of neighbourly relations between the two houses. Do you think -that Mr. Wrenn will be returning shortly?”</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t say. But look here,” said Mr. Braddock, troubled, “there -must be some mistake.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_284" id="page_284">{284}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“You do not know where he is, by any chance?”</p> - -<p>“No—yes, I do, though. He said something about going to see Cornelius. -I think they play chess together or something. A game,” said Mr. -Braddock, “which I have never been able to get the hang of. But then I’m -not awfully good at those brainy games.”</p> - -<p>“I will go to Mr. Cornelius’ house,” said the Rev. Aubrey, rising.</p> - -<p>“You don’t play mah-jongg, do you?” asked Mr. Braddock. “Now, there’s a -game that I——”</p> - -<p>“If he is not there, I will return.”</p> - -<p>Left alone, Willoughby Braddock found that his appetite for tea had -deserted him. Claire, grateful for his services, had rather extended -herself over the buttered toast, but it had no appeal for him. He -lighted a cigarette and went out to fiddle with the machinery of his -two-seater, always an assistance to thought.</p> - -<p>But even the carburettor, which had one of those fascinating ailments to -which carburettors are subject, yielded him no balm. He was thoroughly -upset and worried.</p> - -<p>He climbed into the car and gave himself up to gloomy meditation, and -presently voices down the road announced the return of Kay and Sam. They -were chatting away in the friendliest possible fashion—from where he -sat, Willoughby Braddock could hear Kay’s clear laugh ringing out -happily—and it seemed to Mr. Braddock, though he was no austerer -moralist than the rest of his generation, that things were in a position -only to be described as a bit thick. He climbed down and waited on the -pavement.</p> - -<p>“Why, hullo, Willoughby,” said Kay. “This is fine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_285" id="page_285">{285}</a></span> Have you just -arrived? Come in and have some tea.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve had tea, thanks. That girl Claire gave me some, thanks.... I say, -Sam, could I have a word with you?”</p> - -<p>“Say on,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>“In private, I mean. You don’t mind, Kay?”</p> - -<p>“Not a bit. I’ll go in and order tea.”</p> - -<p>Kay disappeared into the house; and Sam, looking at Mr. Braddock, -observed with some surprise that his face had turned a vivid red and -that his eyes were fastened upon him in a reproachful stare.</p> - -<p>“What’s up?” he asked, concerned.</p> - -<p>Willoughby Braddock cleared his throat.</p> - -<p>“You know, Sam——”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t,” said Sam, as he paused.</p> - -<p>“——you know, Sam, I’m not a—nobody would call me a—— Dash it, now -I’ve forgotten the word!”</p> - -<p>“Beauty?” hazarded Sam.</p> - -<p>“It’s on the tip of my tongue—Puritan. That’s the word I want. I’m not -a Puritan. Not strait-laced, you know. But, really, honestly, Sam, old -man—I mean, dash it all!”</p> - -<p>Sam stroked his chin thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“I still don’t quite get it, Bradder,” he said. “What exactly is the -trouble?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I mean, on the premises, old boy, absolutely on the premises—is -it playing the game? I mean, next door to people who are pals of mine -and taking Kay to the theatre and generally going on as if nothing was -wrong.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what is wrong?” asked Sam patiently.</p> - -<p>“Well, when it comes to the vicar beetling in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_286" id="page_286">{286}</a></span> and complaining about -women in your bedroom——”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“He said he heard her.”</p> - -<p>“Heard a woman in my bedroom?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“He must be crazy. When?”</p> - -<p>“Just now.”</p> - -<p>“This beats me.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that was what he said, anyway. Dashed unpleasant he was about it -too. Oh, and there’s another thing, Sam. I wish you’d ask that man of -yours not to call me brother. He——”</p> - -<p>“Great Cæsar!” said Sam.</p> - -<p>He took Willoughby Braddock by the arm and urged him toward the steps. -His face wore a purposeful look.</p> - -<p>“You go in, like a good chap, and talk to Kay,” he said. “Tell her I’ll -be in in a minute. There’s something I’ve got to look into.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but listen——”</p> - -<p>“Run along!”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t understand.”</p> - -<p>“Push off!”</p> - -<p>Yielding to superior force, Willoughby Braddock entered San Rafael, -walking pensively. And Sam, stepping off the gravel onto the grass, -moved with a stealthy tread toward his home. Vague but lively suspicions -were filling his mind.</p> - -<p>He had reached the foot of the steps and paused to listen, when the -evening air was suddenly split by a sharp feminine scream. This was -followed by a joyous barking. And this in its turn was followed<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_287" id="page_287">{287}</a></span> by the -abrupt appearance of a flying figure, racing toward the gate. It was -moving swiftly and the light was dim, but Sam had no difficulty in -recognising his old acquaintance Miss Gunn, of Pittsburgh. She fled -rapidly through the gate and out into Burberry Road, while Amy, looking -in the dusk like a small elephant, gambolled about her, uttering strange -canine noises. Dolly slammed the gate, but gates meant nothing to Amy. -She poured herself over it and the two passed into the darkness.</p> - -<p>Sam’s jaw set grimly. He moved with noiseless steps to the door of Mon -Repos and took out his key.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_288" id="page_288">{288}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR<br /><br /> -<small>MAINLY ABOUT TROUSERS</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HE meeting between Amy and Mrs. Molloy had taken place owing to the -resolve of the latter to search the small conservatory which stood -outside the back door. She had told Soapy that she thought the missing -bonds might be hidden there. They were not, but Amy was. The -conservatory was a favourite sleeping porch of Amy’s, and thither she -had repaired on discovering that her frolicsome overtures to Hash had -been taken in the wrong spirit.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Molloy’s feelings, on groping about in the dark and suddenly poking -her hand into the cavernous mouth of the largest dog she had ever -encountered, have perhaps been sufficiently indicated by the description -of her subsequent movements. Iron-nerved woman though she was, this was -too much for her.</p> - -<p>The single scream which she emitted, previous to saving her breath for -the race for life, penetrated only faintly to where Mr. Molloy sat -taking a rest on the sofa in the drawing-room. He heard it, but it had -no message for him. He was feeling a little better now, and his -ganglions, though not having ceased to vibrate with uncomfortable -rapidity, were beginning<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_289" id="page_289">{289}</a></span> to simmer down. He decided that he would give -himself another couple of minutes of repose.</p> - -<p>It was toward the middle of the second minute that the door opened -quietly and Sam came in. He stood looking at the recumbent Mr. Molloy -for a moment.</p> - -<p>“Comfortable?” he said.</p> - -<p>Soapy shot off the sofa with a sort of gurgling whoop. Of all the -disturbing events of that afternoon, this one had got more surely in -amongst his nerve centres than any other. He had not heard the door -open, and Sam’s voice had been the first intimation that he was no -longer alone.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid I startled you,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>The exigencies of a difficult profession had made Soapy Molloy a quick -thinker. Frequently in the course of a busy life he had found himself in -positions where a split second was all that was allowed him for forming -a complete plan of action. His trained mind answered to the present -emergency like a machine.</p> - -<p>“You certainly did startle me,” he said bluffly, in his best Thomas G. -Gunn manner. “You startled the daylights out of me. So here you are at -last, Mr. Shotter.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, here I am.”</p> - -<p>“I have been waiting quite some little time. I’m afraid you caught me on -the point of going to sleep.”</p> - -<p>He chuckled, as a man will when the laugh is on him.</p> - -<p>“I should imagine,” said Sam, “that it would take a smart man to catch -you asleep.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Molloy chuckled again.</p> - -<p>“Just what the boys used to say of me in Denver City.” He paused and -looked at Sam a little anx<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_290" id="page_290">{290}</a></span>iously. “Say, you do remember me, Mr. -Shotter?”</p> - -<p>“I certainly do.”</p> - -<p>“You remember my calling here the other day to see my old home?”</p> - -<p>“I remember you before that—when you were in Sing Sing.”</p> - -<p>He turned away to light the gas, and Mr. Molloy was glad of the interval -for thought afforded by this action.</p> - -<p>“Sing Sing?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“You were never there.”</p> - -<p>“I went there to see a show, in which you took an important part. I -forget what your number was.”</p> - -<p>“And what of it?”</p> - -<p>“Eh?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Molloy drew himself up with considerable dignity.</p> - -<p>“What of it?” he repeated. “What if I was for a brief period—owing to a -prejudiced judge and a packed jury—in the place you mention? I decline -to have the fact taken as a slur on my character. You are an American, -Mr. Shotter, and you know that there is unfortunately a dark side to -American politics. My fearless efforts on behalf of the party of reform -and progress brought me into open hostility with a gang of unscrupulous -men, who did not hesitate to have me arrested on a trumped-up charge -and——”</p> - -<p>“All this,” said Sam, “would go a lot stronger with me if I hadn’t found -you burgling my house.”</p> - -<p>It would have been difficult to say whether the ex<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_291" id="page_291">{291}</a></span>pression that swept -over Mr. Molloy’s fine face was more largely indignation or amazement.</p> - -<p>“Burgling your house? Are you insane? I called here in the hope of -seeing you, was informed that you were not at home, and was invited by -your manservant, a most civil fellow, to await your return. Burgling -your house, indeed! If I were, would you have found me lying on the -sofa?”</p> - -<p>“Hash let you in?”</p> - -<p>Such was the magnetic quality of the personality of one who had often -sold large blocks of shares in nonexistent oil wells to Scotchmen, that -Sam was beginning in spite of himself to be doubtful.</p> - -<p>“If Hash is the name of your manservant, most certainly he let me in. He -admitted me by the front door in the perfectly normal and conventional -manner customary when gentlemen pay calls.”</p> - -<p>“Where is Hash?”</p> - -<p>“Why ask me?”</p> - -<p>Sam went to the door. The generous indignation of his visitor had caused -him to waver, but it had not altogether convinced him.</p> - -<p>“Hash!” he called.</p> - -<p>“He appears to be out.”</p> - -<p>“Hash!”</p> - -<p>“Gone for a walk, no doubt.”</p> - -<p>“Hash!” shouted Sam.</p> - -<p>From the regions below there came an answering cry.</p> - -<p>“Hi! Help!”</p> - -<p>It had been a long and arduous task for Hash Todhunter to expel from his -mouth the duster which<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_292" id="page_292">{292}</a></span> Soapy Molloy had rammed into it with such -earnest care, but he had accomplished it at last, and his voice sounded -to Mr. Molloy like a knell.</p> - -<p>“He appears to be in, after all,” he said feebly.</p> - -<p>Sam had turned and was regarding him fixedly, and Soapy noted with a -sinking heart the athletic set of his shoulders and the large -muscularity of his hands. “Haul off and bust him one!” his wife’s gentle -voice seemed to whisper in his ear; but eying Sam, he knew that any such -project was but a Utopian dream. Sam had the unmistakable look of one -who, if busted, would infallibly bust in return and bust -disintegratingly.</p> - -<p>“You tied him up, I suppose,” said Sam, with a menacing calm.</p> - -<p>Soapy said nothing. There is a time for words and a time for silence.</p> - -<p>Sam looked at him in some perplexity. He had begun to see that he was -faced with the rather delicate problem of how to be in two places at the -same time. He must, of course, at once go down to the kitchen and -release Hash. But if he did that, would not this marauder immediately -escape by the front door? And if he took him down with him to the -kitchen, the probability was that he would escape by the back door. -While if he merely left him in this room and locked the door, he would -proceed at once to depart by the window.</p> - -<p>It was a nice problem, but all problems are capable of solution. Sam -solved this one in a spasm of pure inspiration. He pointed a menacing -finger at Soapy.</p> - -<p>“Take off those trousers!” he said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_293" id="page_293">{293}</a></span></p> - -<p>Soapy gaped. The intellectual pressure of the conversation had become -too much for him.</p> - -<p>“Trousers?” he faltered.</p> - -<p>“Trousers. You know perfectly well what trousers are,” said Sam, “and -it’s no good pretending you don’t. Take them off!”</p> - -<p>“Take off my trousers?”</p> - -<p>“Good Lord!” said Sam with sudden petulance. “What’s the matter with the -man. You do it every night, don’t you? You do it when you take a Turkish -bath, don’t you? Where’s the difficulty? Peel them off and don’t waste -time.”</p> - -<p>“But——”</p> - -<p>“Listen!” said Sam. “If those trousers are not delivered to me f. o. b. -in thirty seconds, I’ll bust you one!”</p> - -<p>He had them in eighteen.</p> - -<p>“Now,” said Sam, “I think you’ll find it a little difficult to get -away.”</p> - -<p>He gathered up the garments, draped them over his arm and went down to -the kitchen.</p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p>Love is the master passion. It had come to Hash Todhunter late, but, -like measles, the more violent for the delay. A natural inclination to -go upstairs and rend his recent aggressor limb from limb faded before -the more imperious urge to dash across to San Rafael and see Claire. It -was the first thing of which he spoke when Sam, with the aid of a -carving knife, had cut his bonds.</p> - -<p>“I got to see ’er!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_294" id="page_294">{294}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Are you hurt, Hash?”</p> - -<p>“No, ’e only ’it me on the ’ead. I got to see ’er, Sam.”</p> - -<p>“Claire?”</p> - -<p>“Ah! The pore little angel, crying ’er ruddy eyes out. The gentleman was -saying all about it.”</p> - -<p>“What gentleman?”</p> - -<p>“A gentleman come to the back door and told that perisher all about how -the pore little thing was howling and weeping and all, thinking ’e was -me.”</p> - -<p>“Have you had a quarrel with Claire?”</p> - -<p>“We ’ad words. I got to see ’er.”</p> - -<p>“You shall. Can you walk?”</p> - -<p>“Of course I can walk. Why shouldn’t I walk?”</p> - -<p>“Come along then.”</p> - -<p>In spite of his assurance, however, Hash found his cramped limbs hard to -steer. Sam had to lend an arm, and their progress was slow.</p> - -<p>“Sam,” said Hash, after a pause which had been intended primarily for -massage, but which had plainly been accompanied by thought, “do you know -anything about getting married?”</p> - -<p>“Only that it is an excellent thing to do.”</p> - -<p>“I mean, ’ow quick can a feller get married?”</p> - -<p>“Like a flash, I believe. At any rate, if he goes to a registrar’s.”</p> - -<p>“I’m going to a registrar’s then. I’ve ’ad enough of these what I might -call misunderstandings.”</p> - -<p>“Brave words, Hash! How are the legs?”</p> - -<p>“The legs are all right. It’s her mother I’m thinking of.”</p> - -<p>“You always seem to be thinking of her mother.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_295" id="page_295">{295}</a></span> Are you quite sure -you’ve picked the right one of the family?”</p> - -<p>Hash had halted again, and his face was that of a man whose soul was a -battlefield.</p> - -<p>“Sam, ’er mother wants to come and live with us when we’re married.”</p> - -<p>“Well, why not?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, you ain’t seen her, Sam! She’s got a hooked nose and an eye like -one of these animal trainers. Still——”</p> - -<p>The battle appeared to be resumed once more.</p> - -<p>“Oh, well!” said Hash. He mused for a while. “You’ve got to look at it -all round, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Exactly.”</p> - -<p>“And there’s this to think of: She says she’ll buy a pub for us.”</p> - -<p>“Pubs are pubs,” agreed Sam.</p> - -<p>“I’ve always wanted to have a pub of my own.”</p> - -<p>“Then I shouldn’t hesitate.”</p> - -<p>Hash suddenly saw the poetic side of the vision.</p> - -<p>“Won’t my little Clara look a treat standing behind a bar, serving the -drinks and singing out, ‘Time, gentlemen, please!’ Can’t you see her -scraping the froth off the mugs?”</p> - -<p>He fell into a rapt silence, and said no more while Sam escorted him -through the back door of San Rafael and led him into the kitchen.</p> - -<p>There, rightly considering that the sacred scene of re-union was not for -his eyes, Sam turned away. Gently depositing the nether garments of Mr. -Molloy on the table, he left them together and made his way to the -drawing-room.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_296" id="page_296">{296}</a></span></p> - -<h3>§ 3</h3> - -<p>The first thing he heard as he opened the door was Kay’s voice.</p> - -<p>“I don’t care,” she was saying. “I simply don’t believe it.”</p> - -<p>He went in and discovered that she was addressing her uncle, Mr. Wrenn, -and the white-bearded Mr. Cornelius. They were standing together by the -mantelpiece, their attitude the sheepish and browbeaten one of men who -have been rash enough to argue with a woman. Mr. Wrenn was fiddling with -his tie, and Mr. Cornelius looked like a druid who is having a little -unpleasantness with the widow of the deceased.</p> - -<p>Sam’s entrance was the signal for an awkward silence.</p> - -<p>“Hullo, Mr. Wrenn,” said Sam. “Good evening, Mr. Cornelius.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Wrenn looked at Mr. Cornelius. Mr. Cornelius looked at Mr. Wrenn.</p> - -<p>“Say something,” said Mr. Cornelius’ eye to Mr. Wrenn. “You are her -uncle.”</p> - -<p>“You say something,” retorted Mr. Wrenn’s eye to Mr. Cornelius. “You -have a white beard.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry I’ve been such a time,” said Sam to Kay. “I have had a little -domestic trouble. I found a gentleman burgling my house.”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“There had been a lady there, too, but she was leaving as I arrived.”</p> - -<p>“A lady!”</p> - -<p>“Well, let us call her a young female party.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_297" id="page_297">{297}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Kay swung round on Mr. Wrenn, her eyes gleaming with the light that -shines only in the eyes of girls who are entitled to say “I told you -so!” to elderly relatives. Mr. Wrenn avoided her gaze. Mr. Cornelius -plucked at his beard and registered astonishment.</p> - -<p>“Burgling your house? What for?”</p> - -<p>“That’s what’s puzzling me. These two people seem extraordinarily -interested in Mon Repos. They called some days ago and wanted to buy the -place, and now I find them burgling it.”</p> - -<p>“Good heavens!” cried Mr. Cornelius. “I wonder! Can it be possible?”</p> - -<p>“I shouldn’t wonder. It might,” said Sam. “What?”</p> - -<p>“Do you remember my telling you, Mr. Shotter, when you came to me about -the lease of the house that a well-known criminal had once lived there?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“A man named Finglass. Do you remember Finglass, Wrenn?”</p> - -<p>“No; he must have been before my time.”</p> - -<p>“How long have you been here?”</p> - -<p>“About three years and a half.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, then it was before your time. This man robbed the New Asiatic Bank -of something like four hundred thousand pounds’ worth of securities. He -was never caught, and presumably fled the country. You will find the -whole story in my history of Valley Fields. Can it be possible that -Finglass hid the bonds in Mon Repos and was unable to get back there and -remove them?”</p> - -<p>“You said it!” cried Sam enthusiastically.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_298" id="page_298">{298}</a></span></p> - -<p>“It would account for the anxiety of these people to obtain access to -the house.”</p> - -<p>“Why, of course!” said Kay.</p> - -<p>“It sounds extremely likely,” said Mr. Wrenn.</p> - -<p>“Was the man tall and thin, with a strong cast in the left eye?”</p> - -<p>“No; a square-faced sort of fellow.”</p> - -<p>“Then it would not be Finglass himself. No doubt some other criminal, -some associate of his, who had learned from him that the bonds were -hidden in the house. I wish I had my history here,” said Mr. Cornelius. -“Several pages of it are devoted to Finglass.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you what,” said Sam, “go and get it.”</p> - -<p>“Shall I?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, do.”</p> - -<p>“Very well. Will you come with me, Wrenn?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly he will,” said Sam warmly. “Mr. Wrenn would like a breath of -fresh air.”</p> - -<p>With considerable satisfaction he heard the front door close on the -non-essential members of the party.</p> - -<p>“What an extraordinary thing!” said Kay.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Sam, drawing his chair closer. “The aspect of the affair -that strikes me——”</p> - -<p>“What became of the man?”</p> - -<p>“He’s all right. I left him in the drawing-room.”</p> - -<p>“But he’ll escape.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>“Well, he won’t.”</p> - -<p>“But all he’s got to do is walk out of the door.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but he won’t do it.” Sam drew his chair still closer. “I was -saying that the aspect of the affair that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_299" id="page_299">{299}</a></span> strikes me most forcibly is -that now I shall be in a position to marry and do it properly.”</p> - -<p>“Are you thinking of marrying someone?”</p> - -<p>“I think of nothing else. Well, now, to look into this. The bank will -probably give a ten per cent reward for the return of the stuff. Even -five per cent would be a nice little sum. That fixes the financial end -of the thing. So now——”</p> - -<p>“You seem very certain that you will find this money.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I shall find it, have no fear. If it’s there——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but perhaps it isn’t.”</p> - -<p>“I feel sure that it is. So now let’s make our plans. We will buy a farm -somewhere, don’t you think?”</p> - -<p>“I have no objection to your buying a farm.”</p> - -<p>“I said we. We will buy a farm, and there settle down and live to a ripe -old age on milk, honey and the produce of the soil. You will wear a -gingham gown, I shall grow a beard. We will keep dogs, pigeons, cats, -sheep, fowls, horses, cows, and a tortoise to keep in the garden. Good -for the snails,” explained Sam.</p> - -<p>“Bad for them, I should think. Are you fond of tortoises?”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Not very.”</p> - -<p>“Then,” said Sam magnanimously, “we will waive the tortoise.”</p> - -<p>“It sounds like a forgotten sport of the past—Waving the Tortoise.”</p> - -<p>“To resume. We decide on the farm. Right! Now where is it to be? You are -a Wiltshire girl, so no doubt will prefer that county. I can’t afford -to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_300" id="page_300">{300}</a></span> buy back Midways for you, I’m afraid, unless on second thoughts I -decide to stick to the entire proceeds instead of handing them back to -the bank—we shall have to talk that over later—but isn’t there some -old greystone, honeysuckle-covered place in the famous Braddock -estates?”</p> - -<p>“Good heavens!”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?”</p> - -<p>“You said you had left that man in your drawing-room.”</p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve suddenly remembered that I sent Willoughby over to Mon Repos ten -minutes ago to find out why you were so long. He’s probably being -murdered.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I shouldn’t think so. To go back to what I was saying——”</p> - -<p>“You must go and see at once.”</p> - -<p>“Do you really think it’s necessary?”</p> - -<p>“Of course it is.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, very well.”</p> - -<p>Sam rose reluctantly. Life, he felt with considerable peevishness, was -one long round of interruptions. He went round to the door of Mon Repos -and let himself in with his key. A rumble of voices proceeding from the -drawing-room greeted him as he entered. He banged the door, and a moment -later Mr. Braddock came out, looking a little flustered.</p> - -<p>“Oh, there you are, Sam! I was just coming round to fetch you.”</p> - -<p>“Anything wrong?”</p> - -<p>“It depends on what you call wrong.” Mr. Brad<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_301" id="page_301">{301}</a></span>dock closed the -drawing-room door carefully. “You know Lord Tilbury?”</p> - -<p>“Of course I know Lord Tilbury.”</p> - -<p>“Well, he’s in there,” said Willoughby Braddock, jerking an awed thumb -toward the drawing-room, “and he hasn’t got any trousers on.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_302" id="page_302">{302}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE<br /><br /> -<small>SAM HEARS BAD NEWS</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">S</span>AM uttered a cry of exceeding bitterness. Nothing is more galling to -your strategist than to find that some small, unforeseen accident has -occurred and undone all his schemes. The one thing for which he had -omitted to allow was the possibility of some trousered caller wandering -in during his absence and supplying Mr. Molloy with the means of escape.</p> - -<p>“So he’s gone, I suppose?” he said morosely.</p> - -<p>“No, he’s still here,” said Mr. Braddock. “In the drawing-room.”</p> - -<p>“The man, I mean.”</p> - -<p>“What man?”</p> - -<p>“The other man.”</p> - -<p>“What other man?” asked Mr. Braddock, whose exacting afternoon had begun -to sap his mental powers.</p> - -<p>“Oh, never mind,” said Sam impatiently. “What did Lord Tilbury want, -coming down here, confound him?”</p> - -<p>“Came to see you about something, I should think,” surmised Mr. -Braddock.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t he tell you what it was?”</p> - -<p>“No. As a matter of fact, we’ve been chatting mostly about trousers. You -haven’t got a spare pair in the house by any chance, have you?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_303" id="page_303">{303}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Of course I have—upstairs.”</p> - -<p>“Then I wish,” said Mr. Braddock earnestly, “that you would dig them out -and give them to the old boy. He’s been trying for the last ten minutes -to get me to lend him mine, and it simply can’t be done. I’ve got to be -getting back to town soon to dress for dinner, and you can say what you -like, a fellow buzzing along in a two-seater without any trousers on -looks conspicuous.”</p> - -<p>“Darn that fool, coming down here at just this time!” said Sam, still -aggrieved. “What exactly happened?”</p> - -<p>“Well, he’s a bit on the incoherent side; but as far as I can make out, -that man of yours, the chap who called me brother, seems to have gone -completely off his onion. Old Tilbury rang the front doorbell, and there -was a bit of a pause, and then this chap opened the door and old Tilbury -went in, and then he happened to look at him and saw that he hadn’t any -trousers on.”</p> - -<p>“That struck him as strange, of course.”</p> - -<p>“Apparently he hadn’t much time to think about it, for the bloke -immediately proceeded to hold him up with a gun.”</p> - -<p>“He hadn’t got a gun.”</p> - -<p>“Well, old Tilbury asserts that he was shoving something against his -pocket from inside.”</p> - -<p>“His finger, or a pipe.”</p> - -<p>“No, I say, really!” Mr. Braddock’s voice betrayed the utmost -astonishment and admiration. “Would that be it? I call that clever.”</p> - -<p>“Well, he hadn’t a gun when I caught him or he would have used it on me. -What happened then?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_304" id="page_304">{304}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“How do you mean—caught him?”</p> - -<p>“I found him burgling the house.”</p> - -<p>“Was that chap who called me brother a burglar?” cried Mr. Braddock, -amazed. “I thought he was your man.”</p> - -<p>“Well, he wasn’t. What happened next?”</p> - -<p>“The bloke proceeded to de-bag old Tilbury. Then shoving on the -trousers, he started to leg it. Old Tilbury at this juncture appears to -have said ‘Hi! What about me?’ or words to that effect; upon which the -bloke replied, ‘Use your own judgment!’ and passed into the night. When -I came in, old Tilbury was in the drawing-room, wearing the evening -paper as a sort of kilt and not looking too dashed pleased with things -in general.”</p> - -<p>“Well, come along and see him.”</p> - -<p>“Not me,” said Mr. Braddock. “I’ve had ten minutes of him and it has -sufficed. Also, I’ve got to be buzzing up to town. I’m dining out. -Besides, it’s you he wants to see, not me.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder what he wants to see me about.”</p> - -<p>“Must be something important to bring him charging down here. Well, I’ll -be moving, old boy. Mustn’t keep you. Thanks for a very pleasant -afternoon.”</p> - -<p>Willoughby Braddock took his departure; and Sam, having gone to his -bedroom and found a pair of grey flannel trousers, returned to the lower -regions and went into the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>He had not expected to find his visitor in anything approaching a mood -of sunniness, but he was unprepared for the red glare of hate and -hostility in the eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_305" id="page_305">{305}</a></span> which seared their way through him as he entered. -It almost seemed as if Lord Tilbury imagined the distressing happenings -of the last quarter of an hour to be Sam’s fault.</p> - -<p>“So there you are!” said Lord Tilbury.</p> - -<p>He had been standing with an air of coyness behind the sofa; but now, as -he observed the trousers over Sam’s arm, he swooped forward feverishly -and wrenched them from him. He pulled them on, muttering thickly to -himself; and this done, drew himself up and glared at his host once more -with that same militant expression of loathing in his eyes.</p> - -<p>He seemed keenly alive to the fact that he was not looking his best. Sam -was a long-legged man, and in the case of Lord Tilbury, Nature, having -equipped him with an outsize in brains, had not bothered much about his -lower limbs. The borrowed trousers fell in loose folds about his ankles, -brushing the floor. Nor did they harmonise very satisfactorily with the -upper portion of a morning suit. Seeing him, Sam could not check a faint -smile of appreciation.</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury saw the smile, and it had the effect of increasing his fury -to the point where bubbling rage becomes a sort of frozen calm.</p> - -<p>“You are amused,” he said tensely.</p> - -<p>Sam repudiated the dreadful charge.</p> - -<p>“No, no! Just thinking of something.”</p> - -<p>“Cor!” said Lord Tilbury.</p> - -<p>Sam perceived that a frank and soothing explanation must be his first -step. After that, and only after that, could he begin to institute -inquiries as to why His Lordship had honoured him with this visit.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_306" id="page_306">{306}</a></span></p> - -<p>“That fellow who stole your trousers——”</p> - -<p>“I have no wish to discuss him,” said Lord Tilbury with hauteur. “The -fact that you employ a lunatic manservant causes me no surprise.”</p> - -<p>“He wasn’t my manservant. He was a burglar.”</p> - -<p>“A burglar? Roaming at large about the house? Did you know he was here?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes. I caught him and I made him take his trousers off, and then I -went next door to tea.”</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury expelled a long breath.</p> - -<p>“Indeed? You went next door to tea?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Leaving this—this criminal——”</p> - -<p>“Well, I knew he couldn’t get away. Oh, I had reasoned it all out. Your -happening to turn up was just a bit of bad luck. Was there anything you -wanted to see me about?” asked Sam, feeling that the sooner this -interview terminated the pleasanter it would be.</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury puffed out his cheeks and stood smouldering for a moment. -In the agitation of the recent occurrences, he had almost forgotten the -tragedy which had sent him hurrying down to Mon Repos.</p> - -<p>“Yes, there was,” he said. He sizzled for another brief instant. “I may -begin by telling you,” he said, “that your uncle, Mr. Pynsent, when he -sent you over here to join my staff, practically placed me <i>in loco -parentis</i> with respect to you.”</p> - -<p>“An excellent idea,” said Sam courteously.</p> - -<p>“An abominable idea! It was an iniquitous thing to demand of a busy man -that he should take charge of a person of a character so erratic, so -undisciplined, so—er—eccentric as to border closely upon the insane.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_307" id="page_307">{307}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Insane?” said Sam. He was wounded to the quick by the injustice of -these harsh words. From first to last, he could think of no action of -his that had not been inspired and guided throughout by the dictates of -pure reason. “Who, me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you! It was a monstrous responsibility to give any man, and I -consented to undertake it only because—er——”</p> - -<p>“I know. My uncle told me,” said Sam, to help him out. “You had some -business deal on, and you wanted to keep in with him.”</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury showed no gratitude for this kindly prompting.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said bitterly, “it may interest you to know that the deal to -which you refer has fallen through.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” said Sam sympathetically. “That’s tough -luck. I’m afraid my uncle is a queer sort of fellow to do business -with.”</p> - -<p>“I received a cable from him this afternoon, informing me that he had -changed his mind and would be unable to meet me in the matter.”</p> - -<p>“Too bad,” said Sam. “I really am sorry.”</p> - -<p>“And it is entirely owing to you, you may be pleased to learn.”</p> - -<p>“Me? Why, what have I done?”</p> - -<p>“I will tell you what you have done. Mr. Pynsent’s cable was in answer -to one from me, in which I informed him that you were in the process of -becoming entangled with a girl.”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“You need not trouble to deny it. I saw you with<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_308" id="page_308">{308}</a></span> my own eyes lunching -together at the Savoy, and I happen to know that this afternoon you took -her to the theatre.”</p> - -<p>Sam looked at him dizzily.</p> - -<p>“You aren’t—you can’t by any chance be referring to Miss Derrick?”</p> - -<p>“Of course I am referring to Miss Derrick.”</p> - -<p>So stupendous was Sam’s amazement that anybody could describe what was -probably the world’s greatest and most beautiful romance as “becoming -entangled with a girl” that he could only gape.</p> - -<p>“I cabled to Mr. Pynsent, informing him of the circumstances and asking -for instructions.”</p> - -<p>“You did what?” Sam’s stupor of astonishment had passed away, whirled to -the four winds on a tempestuous rush of homicidal fury. “You mean to -tell me that you had the—the nerve—the insolence——” He gulped. Being -a young man usually quick to express his rare bursts of anger in terms -of action, he looked longingly at Lord Tilbury, regretting that the -latter’s age and physique disqualified him as a candidate for assault -and battery. “Do you mean to tell me——” He swallowed rapidly. The -thought of this awful little man spying upon Kay and smirching her with -his loathly innuendoes made mere words inadequate.</p> - -<p>“I informed Mr. Pynsent that you were conducting a clandestine love -affair and asked him what I was to do.”</p> - -<p>To Sam, like some blessed inspiration, there came a memory of a scene -that had occurred in his presence abaft the fiddley of the tramp steamer -<i>Araminta</i> when<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_309" id="page_309">{309}</a></span> that vessel was two days out of New York. A dreamy -able-bodied seaman, thoughts of home or beer having temporarily taken -his mind off his job, had chanced to wander backward onto the foot of -the bos’n while the latter was crossing the deck with a full pot of -paint in his hands. And the bos’n, recovering his breath, had condensed -his feelings into two epithets so elastic and comprehensive that, while -they were an exact description of the able-bodied seaman, they applied -equally well to Lord Tilbury. Indeed, it seemed to Sam that they might -have been invented expressly for Lord Tilbury’s benefit.</p> - -<p>A moment before he had been deploring the inadequacy of mere words. But -these were not mere words. They were verbal dynamite.</p> - -<p>“You so-and-so!” said Sam. “You such-and-such!”</p> - -<p>Sailors are toughened by early training and long usage to bear -themselves phlegmatically beneath abuse. Lord Tilbury had had no such -advantages. He sprang backward as if he had been scalded by a sudden jet -of boiling water.</p> - -<p>“You pernicious little bounder!” said Sam. He strode to the door and -flung it open. “Get out!”</p> - -<p>If ever there was an occasion on which a man might excusably have said -“Sir!” this was it; and no doubt, had he been able to speak, this was -the word which Lord Tilbury would have used. Nearly a quarter of a -century had passed since he had been addressed in this fashion to his -face, and the thing staggered him.</p> - -<p>“Get out!” repeated Sam. “What the devil,” he inquired peevishly, “are -you doing here, poisoning the air?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_310" id="page_310">{310}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury felt no inclination to embark upon a battle of words in -which he appeared to be in opposition to an expert. Dazedly he flapped -out into the hall, the grey flannel trousers swirling about his feet. At -the front door, however, it suddenly occurred to him that he had not yet -fired the most important shell in his ammunition wagon. He turned at -bay.</p> - -<p>“Wait!” he cried. “I may add——”</p> - -<p>“No, you mayn’t,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>“I wish to add——”</p> - -<p>“Keep moving!”</p> - -<p>“I insist on informing you,” shouted Lord Tilbury, plucking at the -trousers with a nautical twitch, “of this one thing: Your uncle said in -his cable that you were to take the next boat back to America.”</p> - -<p>It had not been Sam’s intention to permit anything to shake the stern -steeliness of his attitude, but this information did it. He stopped -midway in an offensive sniff designed to afford a picturesque -illustration of his view on the other’s air-poisoning qualities and -gazed at him blankly.</p> - -<p>“Did he say that?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he did.” Sam scratched his chin thoughtfully. Lord Tilbury began -to feel a little better. “And,” he continued, “as I should imagine that -a young man of your intellectual attainments has little scope for making -a living except by sponging on his rich relatives, I presume that you -will accede to his wishes. In case you may still suppose that you are a -member of the staff of Tilbury House, I will disabuse you of that view. -You are not.”</p> - -<p>Sam remained silent; and Lord Tilbury, expanding<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_311" id="page_311">{311}</a></span> and beginning to -realise that there is nothing unpleasant about a battle of words -provided that the battling is done in the right quarter, proceeded.</p> - -<p>“I only engaged you as a favour to your uncle. On your merits you could -not have entered Tilbury House as an office boy. I say,” he repeated in -a louder voice, “that, had there been no question of obliging Mr. -Pynsent, I would not have engaged you as an office boy.”</p> - -<p>Sam came out of his trance.</p> - -<p>“Are you still here?” he said, annoyed.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I am still here. And let me tell you——”</p> - -<p>“Listen!” said Sam. “If you aren’t out of this house in two seconds, -I’ll take those trousers back.”</p> - -<p>Every Achilles has his heel. Of all the possible threats that Sam could -have used, this was probably the only one to which Lord Tilbury, in his -dangerously elevated and hostile frame of mind, would have paid heed. -For one moment he stood swelling like a toy balloon, then he slid out -and the door banged behind him.</p> - -<p>A dark shape loomed up before Lord Tilbury as he stood upon the gravel -outside the portal of Mon Repos. Beside this shape there frolicked -another and a darker one.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Evening, sir.”</p> - -<p>Lord Tilbury perceived through the gloom that he was being addressed by -a member of the force. He made no reply. He was not in the mood for -conversation with policemen.</p> - -<p>“Bringing your dog back,” said the officer genially. “Found ’er roaming -about at the top of the street.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_312" id="page_312">{312}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“It is not my dog,” said Lord Tilbury between set teeth, repelling Amy -as she endeavoured in her affable way to climb on to his neck.</p> - -<p>“Not a member of the ’ousehold, sir? Just a neighbour making a friendly -call? I see. Now I wonder,” said the policeman, “if any of my mates ’ave -approached you on the matter of this concert in aid of a -charitubulorganisation which is not only most deserving in itself but is -connected with a body of men to ’oom you as a nouse’older will——”</p> - -<p>“G-r-r-h!” said Lord Tilbury.</p> - -<p>He bounded out of the gate. Dimly, as he waddled down Burberry Road, the -grey flannel trousers brushing the pavement with a musical swishing -sound, there came to him, faint but pursuing, the voice of the -indefatigable policeman:</p> - -<p>“This charitubulorganisationtowhichIallude——”</p> - -<p>Out of the night, sent from heaven, there came a crawling taxicab. Lord -Tilbury poured himself in and sank back on the seat, a spent force.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_313" id="page_313">{313}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX<br /><br /> -<small>SAM HEARS GOOD NEWS</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">K</span>AY came out into the garden of San Rafael. Darkness had fallen now, and -the world was full of the sweet, wet scents of an autumn night. She -stood still for a moment, sniffing, and a little pang of home-sickness -shot through her. The garden smelled just like Midways. This was how she -always remembered Midways most vividly, with the shadows cloaking the -flower beds, the trees dripping and the good earth sending up its -incense to a starlit sky.</p> - -<p>When she shut her eyes she could almost imagine that she was back there. -Then somebody began to whistle in the road and a train clanked into the -station and the vision faded.</p> - -<p>A faint odour of burning tobacco came to her, and on the lawn next door -she saw the glow of a pipe.</p> - -<p>“Sam!” she called.</p> - -<p>His footsteps crunched on the gravel and he joined her at the fence.</p> - -<p>“You’re a nice sort of person, aren’t you?” said Kay. “Why didn’t you -come back?”</p> - -<p>“I had one or two things to think about.”</p> - -<p>“Willoughby dashed in for a minute and told me an incoherent story. So -the man got away?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_314" id="page_314">{314}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Poor Lord Tilbury!” said Kay, with a sudden silvery little bubble of -laughter.</p> - -<p>Sam said nothing.</p> - -<p>“What did he want, by the way?”</p> - -<p>“He came to tell me that he had had a cable from my uncle saying that I -was to go back at once.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” said Kay with a little gasp, and there was silence. “Go back—to -America?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“At once?”</p> - -<p>“Wednesday’s boat, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>“Not this very next Wednesday?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>There was another silence. The night was as still as if the clock had -slipped back and Valley Fields had become the remote country spot of two -hundred years ago.</p> - -<p>“Are you going?”</p> - -<p>“I suppose so.”</p> - -<p>From far away, out in the darkness, came the faint grunting of a train -as it climbed the steep gradient of Sydenham Hill. An odd forlorn -feeling swept over Kay.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I suppose you must,” she said. “You can’t afford to offend your -uncle, can you?”</p> - -<p>Sam moved restlessly, and there was a tiny rasping sound as his hand -scraped along the fence.</p> - -<p>“It isn’t that,” he said.</p> - -<p>“But your uncle’s very rich, isn’t he?”</p> - -<p>“What does that matter?” Sam’s voice shook. “Lord Tilbury was good -enough to inform me that my only way of making a living was to sponge on -my<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_315" id="page_315">{315}</a></span> uncle, but I’m not going to have you thinking it.”</p> - -<p>“But—well, why are you going then?”</p> - -<p>Sam choked.</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you why I’m going. Simply because I might as well be in New -York as anywhere. If there was the slightest hope that by staying on -here I could get you to—to marry me——” His hand rasped on the fence -again. “Of course, I know there isn’t. I know you don’t take me -seriously. I haven’t any illusions about myself. I know just what I -amount to in your eyes. I’m the fellow who blunders about and trips over -himself and is rather amusing when you’re in the mood. But I don’t -count. I don’t amount to anything.” Kay stirred in the darkness, but she -did not speak. “You think I’m kidding all the time. Well, I just want -you to know this—that I’m not kidding about the way I feel about you. I -used to dream over that photograph before I’d ever met you. And when I -met you I knew one thing for certain, and that was there wasn’t ever -going to be anyone except you ever. I know you don’t care about me and -never will. Why should you? What on earth is there about me that could -make you? I’m just a——”</p> - -<p>A little ripple of laughter came from the shadows.</p> - -<p>“Poor old Sam!” said Kay.</p> - -<p>“Yes! There you are—in a nutshell! Poor old Sam!”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry I laughed. But it was so funny to hear you denouncing -yourself in that grand way.”</p> - -<p>“Exactly! Funny!”</p> - -<p>“Well, what’s wrong with being funny? I like funny people. I’d no notion -you had such hidden<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_316" id="page_316">{316}</a></span> depths, Sam. Though, of course, the palmist said -you had, didn’t she?”</p> - -<p>The train had climbed the hill and was now rumbling off into the -distance. A smell of burning leaves came floating over the gardens.</p> - -<p>“I don’t blame you for laughing,” said Sam. “Pray laugh if you wish to.”</p> - -<p>Kay availed herself of the permission.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Sam, you are a pompous old ass, aren’t you? ‘Pray laugh if you wish -to’!... Sam!”</p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>“Do you really mean that you would stay on in England if I promised to -marry you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“And offend your rich uncle for life and get cut off with a dollar or -whatever they cut nephews off with in America?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>Kay reached up at Sam’s head and gave his hair a little proprietorial -tug.</p> - -<p>“Well, why don’t you, Sambo?” she said softly.</p> - -<p>It seemed to Sam that in some strange way his powers of breathing had -become temporarily suspended. A curious dry feeling had invaded his -throat. He could hear his heart thumping.</p> - -<p>“What?” he croaked huskily.</p> - -<p>“I said why—do—you—not, Samivel?” whispered Kay, punctuating the -words with little tugs.</p> - -<p>Sam found himself on the other side of the fence. How he had got there -he did not know. Presumably he had scrambled over. A much abraded shin -bone was to show him later that this theory was the correct<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_317" id="page_317">{317}</a></span> one, but at -the moment bruised shins had no meaning for him. He stood churning the -mould of the flower bed on which he had alighted, staring at the -indistinct whiteness which was Kay.</p> - -<p>“But look here,” said Sam thickly. “But look here——” A bird stirred -sleepily in the tree.</p> - -<p>“But look here——”</p> - -<p>And then somehow—things were happening mysteriously to-night, and -apparently of their own volition—he found that Kay was in his arms. It -seemed to him also, though his faculties were greatly clouded, that he -was kissing Kay.</p> - -<p>“But look here——” he said thickly. They were now, in some peculiar -manner, walking together up the gravel path, and he, unless his senses -deceived him, was holding her hand tucked very tightly under his arm. At -least, somebody, at whom he seemed to be looking from a long distance, -was doing this. This individual, who appeared to be in a confused frame -of mind, was holding that hand with a sort of frenzied determination, as -if he were afraid she might get away from him. “But look here, this -isn’t possible!”</p> - -<p>“What isn’t possible?”</p> - -<p>“All this. A girl like you—a wonderful, splendid, marvellous girl like -you can’t possibly love”—the word seemed to hold all the magic of all -the magicians, and he repeated it dazedly—“love—love—can’t possibly -love a fellow like me.” He paused, finding the wonder of the thing -oppressive. “It—it doesn’t make sense.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_318" id="page_318">{318}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Well, a fellow—a man—a fellow—oh, I don’t know.”</p> - -<p>Kay chuckled. It came upon Sam with an overwhelming sense of personal -loss that she was smiling and that he could not see that smile. Other, -future smiles he would see, but not that particular one, and it seemed -to him that he would never be able to make up for having missed it.</p> - -<p>“Would you like to to know something, Sam?”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“Well, if you’ll listen, I’ll explain exactly how I feel. Have you ever -had a very exciting book taken away from you just when you were in the -middle of it?”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t think so.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I have. It was at Midways, when I was nine. I had borrowed it -from the page boy, who was a great friend of mine, and it was about a -man called Cincinnati Kit, who went round most of the time in a mask, -with lots of revolvers. I had just got half-way in it when my governess -caught me and I was sent to bed and the book was burned. So I never -found out what happened in the little room with the steel walls behind -the bar at the Blue Gulch Saloon. I didn’t get over the disappointment -for years. Well, when you told me you were going away, I suddenly -realised that this awful thing was on the point of happening to me -again, and this time I knew I would never get over it. It suddenly -flashed upon me that there was absolutely nothing worth while in life -except to be with you and watch you and wonder what perfectly mad<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_319" id="page_319">{319}</a></span> thing -you would be up to next. Would Aunt Ysobel say that that was love?”</p> - -<p>“She would,” said Sam with conviction.</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s my form of it, anyhow. I just want to be with you for years -and years and years, wondering what you’re going to do next.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do at this moment,” said Sam. “I’m -going to kiss you.”</p> - -<p>Time passed.</p> - -<p>“Kay,” said Sam.</p> - -<p>“Yes?”</p> - -<p>“Do you know—— No, you’ll laugh.”</p> - -<p>“I promise I won’t. What were you going to say?”</p> - -<p>“That photograph of you—the one I found in the fishing hut.”</p> - -<p>“What about it?”</p> - -<p>“I kissed it once.”</p> - -<p>“Only once?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Sam stoutly. “If you really want the truth, every day; every -blessed single day, and several times a day. Now laugh!”</p> - -<p>“No; I’m going to laugh at you all the rest of my life, but not -to-night. You’re a darling, and I suppose,” said Kay thoughtfully, “I’d -better go and tell uncle so, hadn’t I, if he has got back?”</p> - -<p>“Tell your uncle?”</p> - -<p>“Well, he likes to know what’s going on around him in the home.”</p> - -<p>“But that means that you’ll have to go in.”</p> - -<p>“Only for a minute. I shall just pop my head in at the door and say ‘Oh, -uncle, talking of Sam, I love him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_320" id="page_320">{320}</a></span>’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“Look here,” said Sam earnestly, “if you will swear on your word of -honour—your sacred word of honour—not to be gone more than thirty -seconds——”</p> - -<p>“As if I could keep away from you longer than that!” said Kay.</p> - -<p>Left alone in a bleak world, Sam found his thoughts taking for a while a -sombre turn. In the exhilaration of the recent miracle which had altered -the whole face of the planet, he had tended somewhat to overlook the -fact that for a man about to enter upon the sacred state of matrimony he -was a little ill equipped with the means of supporting a home. His -weekly salary was in his pocket, and a small sum stood to his credit in -a Lombard Street bank; but he could not, he realised, be considered an -exceptionally good match for the least exacting of girls. Indeed, at the -moment, like the gentleman in the song, all he was in a position to -offer his bride was a happy disposition and a wild desire to succeed.</p> - -<p>These are damping reflections for a young man to whom the keys of heaven -have just been given, and they made Sam pensive. But his natural -ebullience was not long in coming to the rescue. One turn up and down -the garden and he was happy again in the possession of lavish rewards -bestowed upon him by beaming bank managers, rejoicing in their hearty -City fashion as they saw those missing bonds restored to them after many -years. He refused absolutely to consider the possibility of failure to -unearth the treasure. It must be somewhere in Mon Repos, and if it was -in Mon Repos he would find it—even if, in direct<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_321" id="page_321">{321}</a></span> contravention of the -terms of Clause 8 in his lease, he had to tear the house to pieces.</p> - -<p>He strode, full of a great purpose, to the window of the kitchen. A -light shone there, and he could hear the rumbling voice of his faithful -henchman. He tapped upon the window, and presently the blind shot up and -Hash’s face appeared. In the background Claire, a little flushed, was -smoothing her hair. The window opened.</p> - -<p>“Who’s there?” said Hash gruffly.</p> - -<p>“Only me, Hash. I want a word with you.”</p> - -<p>“Ur?”</p> - -<p>“Listen, Hash. Tear yourself away shortly, and come back to Mon Repos. -There is man’s work to do there.”</p> - -<p>“Eh?”</p> - -<p>“We’ve got to search that house from top to bottom. I’ve just found out -that it’s full of bonds.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t say!”</p> - -<p>“I do say.”</p> - -<p>“Nasty things,” said Hash reflectively. “Go off in your ’ands as likely -as not.”</p> - -<p>At this moment the quiet night was rent by a strident voice.</p> - -<p>“Sam! Hi, Sam! Come quick!”</p> - -<p>It was the voice of Willoughby Braddock, and it appeared to proceed from -one of the upper rooms of Mon Repos.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_322" id="page_322">{322}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN<br /><br /> -<small>SPIRITED BEHAVIOUR OF MR. BRADDOCK</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN Willoughby Braddock, some ten minutes earlier, had parted from Kay -and come out on to the gravel walk in front of San Rafael, he was in a -condition of mind which it is seldom given to man to achieve until well -through the second quart of champagne. So stirred was his soul, so -churned up by a whirlwind of powerful emotions, that he could have -stepped straight into any hospital as a fever patient and no questions -asked.</p> - -<p>For the world had become of a sudden amazingly vivid to Willoughby. -After a quarter of a century in which absolutely nothing had occurred to -ruffle the placid surface of his somewhat stagnant existence, strange -and exhilarating things had begun to happen to him with a startling -abruptness.</p> - -<p>When he reflected that he had actually stood chatting face to face with -a member of the criminal classes, interrupting him in the very act of -burgling a house, and on top of that had found Lord Tilbury, a man who -was on the committee of his club, violently transformed into a -sans-culotte, it seemed to him that life in the true meaning of the word -had at last begun.</p> - -<p>But it was something that Kay had said that had set the seal on the -thrills of this great day. Quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_323" id="page_323">{323}</a></span> casually she had mentioned that Mrs. -Lippett proposed, as soon as her daughter Claire was married to Hash -Todhunter, to go and live with the young couple. It was as if somebody, -strolling with stout Balboa, had jerked his thumb at a sheet of water -shining through the trees and observed nonchalantly, “By the way, -there’s the Pacific.” It was this, even more than the other events of -the afternoon, that had induced in Mr. Braddock the strange, yeasty -feeling of unreality which was causing him now to stand gulping on the -gravel. For years he had felt that only a miracle could rid him of Mrs. -Lippett’s limpet-like devotion, and now that miracle had happened.</p> - -<p>He removed his hat and allowed the cool night air to soothe his flaming -forehead. He regretted that he had pledged himself to dinner that night -at the house of his Aunt Julia. Aunt Julia was no bad sort, as aunts go, -but dinner at her house was scarcely likely to provide him with -melodrama, and it was melodrama that Mr. Braddock’s drugged soul now -craved, and nothing but melodrama. It irked him to be compelled to leave -this suburban maelstrom of swift events and return to a London which -could not but seem mild and tame by comparison.</p> - -<p>However, he had so pledged himself, and the word of a Braddock was his -bond. Moreover, if he were late, Aunt Julia would be shirty to a degree. -Reluctantly he started to move toward the two-seater, and had nearly -reached it when he congealed again into a motionless statue. For, even -as he prepared to open the gate of San Rafael, he beheld slinking in at -the gate of Mon Repos a furtive figure.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_324" id="page_324">{324}</a></span></p> - -<p>In his present uplifted frame of mind a figure required to possess only -the minimum of furtiveness to excitement Willoughby Braddock’s -suspicions, and this one was well up in what might be called the Class A -of furtiveness. It wavered and it crept. It hesitated and it slunk. And -as the rays from the street lamp shone momentarily upon its face, Mr. -Braddock perceived that it was a drawn and anxious face, the face of one -who nerves himself to desperate deeds.</p> - -<p>And, indeed, the other was feeling nervous. He walked warily, like some -not too courageous explorer picking his way through a jungle in which he -suspects the presence of unpleasant wild beasts. Drawn by the lure of -gain to revisit Mon Repos, Chimp Twist was wondering pallidly if each -moment might not not bring Hash ravening out at him from the shadows.</p> - -<p>He passed round the angle of the house, and Willoughby Braddock, -reckless of whether or no this postponement of his return to London -would make him late for dinner at Aunt Julia’s and so cause him to be -properly ticked off by that punctuality-loving lady, flitted silently -after him and was in time to see him peer through the kitchen window. A -moment later, his peering seeming to have had a reassuring effect, he -had opened the back door and was inside the house.</p> - -<p>Willoughby Braddock did not hesitate. The idea of being alone in a small -semi-detached house with a desperate criminal who was probably armed to -the gills meant nothing to him now. In fact, he rather preferred it. He -slid silently through the back door in the fellow’s wake; and having -removed his shoes, climbed the kitchen stairs. A noise from above told<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_325" id="page_325">{325}</a></span> -him that he was on the right track. Whatever it was that the furtive -bloke was doing, he was doing it upstairs.</p> - -<p>As for Chimp Twist, he was now going nicely. The operations which he was -conducting were swift and simple. Once he had ascertained by a survey -through the kitchen window that his enemy, Hash, was not on the -premises, all his nervousness had vanished. Possessing himself of the -chisel which he had placed in the drawer of the kitchen table in -readiness for just such an emergency, he went briskly upstairs. The -light was burning in the hall and also in the drawing-room; but the -absence of sounds encouraged him to believe that Sam, like Hash, was -out. This proved to be the case, and he went on his way completely -reassured. All he wanted was five minutes alone and undisturbed, for the -directions contained in Mr. Finglass’ letter had been specific; and once -he had broken through the door of the top back bedroom, he anticipated -no difficulty in unearthing the buried treasure. It was, Mr. Finglass -had definitely stated, a mere matter of lifting a board. Chimp Twist did -not sing as he climbed the stairs, for he was a prudent man, but he felt -like singing.</p> - -<p>A sharp cracking noise came to Willoughby Braddock’s ears as he halted -snakily on the first landing. It sounded like the breaking open of a -door.</p> - -<p>And so it was. Chimp, had the conditions been favourable, would have -preferred to insinuate himself into Hash’s boudoir in a manner involving -less noise; but in this enterprise of his time was of the essence and he -had no leisure for niggling at locks with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_326" id="page_326">{326}</a></span> chisel. Arriving on the -threshold, he raised his boot and drove it like a battering-ram.</p> - -<p>The doors of suburban villas are not constructed to stand rough -treatment. If they fit within an inch or two and do not fall down when -the cat rubs against them, the architect, builder and surveyor shake -hands and congratulate themselves on a good bit of work. And Chimp, -though a small man, had a large foot. The lock yielded before him and -the door swung open. He went in and lit the gas. Then he took a rapid -survey of his surroundings.</p> - -<p>Half-way up the second flight of stairs, Willoughby Braddock stood -listening. His face was pink and determined. As far as he was concerned, -Aunt Julia might go and boil herself. Dinner or no dinner, he meant to -see this thing through.</p> - -<p>Chimp wasted no time.</p> - -<p>“The stuff,” his friend, the late Edward Finglass, had written, “is in -the top back bedroom. You’ve only to lift the third board from the -window and put your hand in, Chimpie, and there it is.” And after this -had come a lot of foolish stuff about sharing with Soapy Molloy. A -trifle maudlin old Finky had become on his deathbed, it seemed to Chimp.</p> - -<p>And, hurried though he was, Chimp Twist had time to indulge in a brief -smile as he thought of Soapy Molloy. He also managed to fit in a brief -moment of complacent meditation, the trend of which was that when it -comes to a show-down brains will tell. He, Chimp Twist, was the guy with -the brains, and the result was that in about another half minute he -would be in possession of American-bearer securities to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_327" id="page_327">{327}</a></span> value of -two million dollars. Whereas poor old Soapy, who had just about enough -intelligence to open his mouth when he wished to eat, would go through -life eking out a precarious existence, selling fictitious oil stock to -members of the public who were one degree more cloth-headed than -himself. There was a moral to be drawn from this, felt Chimp, but his -time was too valuable to permit him to stand there drawing it. He -gripped his chisel and got to work.</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock, peering in at the door with the caution of a red Indian -stalking a relative by marriage with a tomahawk, saw that the intruder -had lifted a board and was groping in the cavity. His heart beat like a -motor-bicycle. It gave him some little surprise that the fellow did not -hear it.</p> - -<p>Presumably the fellow was too occupied. Certainly he seemed like a man -whose mind was on his job. Having groped for some moments, he now -uttered a sound that was half an oath and half a groan, and as if seized -with a frenzy, began tearing up other boards, first one, then another, -after that a third. It was as though this business of digging up boards -had begun to grip him like some drug. Starting in a modest way with a -single board he had been unable to check the craving, and it now -appeared to be his intention to excavate the entire floor.</p> - -<p>But he was not allowed to proceed with this work uninterrupted. Possibly -this wholesale demolition of bedrooms jarred upon Mr. Braddock’s -sensibilities as a householder. At any rate, he chose this moment to -intervene.</p> - -<p>“I say, look here!” he said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_328" id="page_328">{328}</a></span></p> - -<p>It had been his intention, for he was an enthusiastic reader of -sensational fiction and knew the formulæ as well as anyone, to say -“Hands up!” But the words had slipped from him without his volition. He -hastily corrected himself.</p> - -<p>“I mean, Hands up!” he said.</p> - -<p>Then backing to the window, he flung it open and shouted into the night.</p> - -<p>“Sam! Hi, Sam! Come quick!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_329" id="page_329">{329}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT<br /><br /> -<small>THE MISSING MILLIONS</small></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HOSE captious critics who are always on the alert to catch the -historian napping and expose in his relation of events some damaging -flaw will no doubt have seized avidly on what appears to be a blunder in -the incident just recorded. Where, they will ask, did Willoughby -Braddock get the revolver, without which a man may say “Hands up!” till -he is hoarse and achieve no result? For of all the indispensable -articles of costume which the well-dressed man must wear if he wishes to -go about saying “Hands up!” to burglars, a revolver is the one which can -least easily be omitted.</p> - -<p>We have no secrets from posterity. Willoughby Braddock possessed no -revolver. But he had four fingers on his right hand, and two of these he -was now thrusting earnestly against the inside of his coat pocket. Wax -to receive and marble to retain, Willoughby Braddock had not forgotten -the ingenious subterfuge by means of which Soapy Molloy had been enabled -to intimidate Lord Tilbury, and he employed it now upon Chimp Twist.</p> - -<p>“You low blister!” said Mr. Braddock.</p> - -<p>Whether this simple device would have been effective with a person of -ferocious and hard-boiled tem<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_330" id="page_330">{330}</a></span>perament, one cannot say; but fortunately -Chimp was not of this description. His strength was rather of the head -than of the heart. He was a man who shrank timidly from even the -appearance of violence; and though he may have had doubts as to the -genuineness of Mr. Braddock’s pistol, he had none concerning the -latter’s physique. Willoughby Braddock was no Hercules, but he was some -four inches taller and some sixty pounds heavier than Chimp, and it was -not in Mr. Twist’s character to embark upon a rough-and-tumble with such -odds against him.</p> - -<p>Indeed, Chimp would not lightly have embarked on a rough-and-tumble with -anyone who was not an infant in arms or a member of the personnel of -Singer’s Troupe of Midgets.</p> - -<p>He tottered against the wall and stood there, blinking. The sudden -materialisation of Willoughby Braddock, apparently out of thin air, had -given him a violent shock, from which he had not even begun to recover.</p> - -<p>“You man of wrath!” said Mr. Braddock.</p> - -<p>The footsteps of one leaping from stair to stair made themselves heard. -Sam charged in.</p> - -<p>“What’s up?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock, with pardonable unction, directed his notice to the -captive.</p> - -<p>“Another of the gang,” he said. “I caught him.”</p> - -<p>Sam gazed at Chimp and looked away, disappointed.</p> - -<p>“You poor idiot,” he said peevishly. “That’s my odd-job man.”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“My odd-job man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_331" id="page_331">{331}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Willoughby Braddock felt for an instant damped. Then his spirits rose -again. He knew little of the duties of odd-job men; but whatever they -were, this one, he felt, had surely exceeded them.</p> - -<p>“Well, why was he digging up the floor?”</p> - -<p>And Sam, glancing down, saw that this was what his eccentric employee -had, indeed, been doing; and suspicion blazed up within him.</p> - -<p>“What’s the game?” he demanded, eying Chimp.</p> - -<p>“Exactly,” said Mr. Braddock. “The game—what is it?”</p> - -<p>Chimp’s nerves had recovered a little of their tone. His agile brain was -stirring once more.</p> - -<p>“You can’t do anything,” he said. “It wasn’t breaking and entering. I -live here. I know the law.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind about that. What were you up to?”</p> - -<p>“Looking for something,” said Chimp sullenly. “And it wasn’t there.”</p> - -<p>“Did you know Finglass?” asked Sam keenly.</p> - -<p>Chimp gave a short laugh of intense bitterness.</p> - -<p>“I thought I did. But I didn’t know he was so fond of a joke.”</p> - -<p>“Bradder,” said Sam urgently, “a crook named Finglass used to live in -this house, and he buried a lot of his swag somewhere in it.”</p> - -<p>“Good gosh!” exclaimed Mr. Braddock. “You don’t say so!”</p> - -<p>“Did this fellow take anything from under the floor?”</p> - -<p>“You bet your sweet life I didn’t,” said Chimp with feeling. “It wasn’t -there. You seem to know all about it, so I don’t mind telling you that -Finky wrote me that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_332" id="page_332">{332}</a></span> the stuff was under the third board from the window -in this room. Whether he was off his damned head or was just stringing -me, I don’t know. But I do know it isn’t there. And now I’m going.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, you aren’t, by Jove!” said Mr. Braddock.</p> - -<p>“Oh, let him go,” said Sam wearily. “What’s the use of keeping him -hanging round?” He turned to Chimp. His own disappointment was so keen -that he could almost sympathise with him. “So you think Finglass really -got away with the stuff, after all?”</p> - -<p>“Looks like it.”</p> - -<p>“Then why on earth did he write to you?”</p> - -<p>Chimp shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>“Off his nut, I guess. He always was a loony sort of bird, outside of -business.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t think the other chap found the stuff, Sam?” suggested Mr. -Braddock.</p> - -<p>Sam shook his head.</p> - -<p>“I doubt it. It’s much more likely it was never here at all. We had a -friend of yours here this evening,” he said to Chimp. “At least, I -suppose he was a friend of yours. Thomas G. Gunn he called himself.”</p> - -<p>“I know who you mean—that poor dumb brick, Soapy. He wouldn’t have -found anything. If it isn’t here it isn’t anywhere. And now I’m going.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Braddock eyed him a little wistfully as he slouched through the -doorway. It was galling to see the only burglar he had ever caught -walking out as if he had finished paying a friendly call. However, he -supposed there was nothing to be done about it. Sam had gone to the -window and was leaning out, looking into the night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_333" id="page_333">{333}</a></span></p> - -<p>“I must go and see Kay,” he said at length, turning.</p> - -<p>“I must get up to town,” said Mr. Braddock. “By Jove, I shall be most -frightfully late if I don’t rush. I’m dining with my Aunt Julia.”</p> - -<p>“This is going to be bad news for her.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, she’ll be most awfully interested. She’s a very sporting old -party.”</p> - -<p>“What the devil are you talking about?”</p> - -<p>“My Aunt Julia.”</p> - -<p>“Oh? Well, good-bye.”</p> - -<p>Sam left the room, and Willoughby Braddock, following him at some little -distance, for his old friend seemed disinclined for company and -conversation, heard the front door bang. He sat down on the stairs and -began to put on his shoes, which he had cached on the first landing. -While he was engaged in this task, the front doorbell rang. He went down -to open it, one shoe off and one shoe on, and found on the steps an aged -gentleman with a white beard.</p> - -<p>“Is Mr. Shotter here?” asked the aged gentleman.</p> - -<p>“Just gone round next door. Mr. Cornelius, isn’t it? I expect you’ve -forgotten me—Willoughby Braddock. I met you for a minute or two when I -was staying with Mr. Wrenn.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes. And how is the world using you, Mr. Braddock?”</p> - -<p>Willoughby was only too glad to tell him. A confidant was precisely what -in his exalted frame of mind he most desired.</p> - -<p>“Everything’s absolutely topping, thanks. What with burglars floating in -every two minutes and Lord<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_334" id="page_334">{334}</a></span> Tilbury getting de-bagged and all that, -life’s just about right. And my housekeeper is leaving me.”</p> - -<p>“I am sorry to hear that.”</p> - -<p>“I wasn’t. What it means is that now I shall at last be able to buzz off -and see life. Have all sorts of adventures, you know. I’m frightfully -keen on adventure.”</p> - -<p>“You should come and live in Valley Fields, Mr. Braddock. There is -always some excitement going on here.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you’re not far wrong. Still, what I meant was more the biffing off -on the out-trail stuff. I’m going to see the world. I’m going to be one -of those fellows Kipling writes about. I was talking to a chap of that -sort at the club the other day. He said he could remember Uganda when -there wasn’t a white man there.”</p> - -<p>“I can remember Valley Fields when it had not a single cinema house.”</p> - -<p>“This fellow was once treed by a rhinoceros for six hours.”</p> - -<p>“A similar thing happened to a Mr. Walkinshaw, who lived at Balmoral, in -Acacia Road. He came back from London one Saturday afternoon in a new -tweed suit, and his dog, failing to recognise him, chased him on to the -roof of the summer house.... Well, I must be getting along, Mr. -Braddock. I promised to read extracts from my history of Valley Fields -to Mr. Shotter. Perhaps you would care to hear them too.”</p> - -<p>“I should love it, but I’ve got to dash off and dine with my Aunt -Julia.”</p> - -<p>“Some other time perhaps?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_335" id="page_335">{335}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Absolutely.... By the way, that man I was telling you about. He was as -near as a toucher bitten by a shark once.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing to what happens in Valley Fields,” said Mr. Cornelius -patriotically. “The occupant of the Firs at the corner of Buller Street -and Myrtle Avenue—a Mr. Phillimore—perhaps you have heard of him?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Edwin Phillimore. Connected with the firm of Birkett, Birkett, -Birkett, Son, Podmarsh, Podmarsh & Birkett, the solicitors.”</p> - -<p>“What about him?”</p> - -<p>“Last summer,” said Mr. Cornelius, “he was bitten by a guinea pig.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_336" id="page_336">{336}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE<br /><br /> -<small>MR. CORNELIUS READS HIS HISTORY</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span>T is a curious fact, and one frequently noted by philosophers, that -every woman in this world cherishes within herself a deep-rooted belief, -from which nothing can shake her, that the particular man to whom she -has plighted her love is to be held personally blameworthy for -practically all of the untoward happenings of life. The vapid and -irreflective would call these things accidents, but she knows better. If -she arrives at a station at five minutes past nine to catch a train -which has already left at nine minutes past five, she knows that it is -her Henry who is responsible, just as he was responsible the day before -for a shower of rain coming on when she was wearing her new hat.</p> - -<p>But there was sterling stuff in Kay Derrick. Although no doubt she felt -in her secret heart that the omission of the late Mr. Edward Finglass to -deposit his ill-gotten gains beneath the floor of the top back bedroom -of Mon Repos could somehow have been avoided if Sam had shown a little -enterprise and common sense, she uttered no word of reproach. Her -reception of the bad news, indeed, when, coming out into the garden, he -saw her waiting for him on the lawn of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_337" id="page_337">{337}</a></span> San Rafael and climbed the fence -to deliver it, was such as to confirm once and for all his enthusiastic -view of her splendid qualities. Where others would have blamed, she -sympathised. And not content with mere sympathy, she went on to minimise -the disaster with soothing argument.</p> - -<p>“What does it matter?” she said. “We have each other.”</p> - -<p>The mind of man, no less than that of woman, works strangely. When, a -few days before, Sam had read that identical sentiment, couched in -almost exactly the same words, as part of the speech addressed by Leslie -Mordyke to the girl of his choice in the third galley of Cordelia -Blair’s gripping serial, <i>Hearts Aflame</i>, he had actually gone so far as -to write in the margin the words, “Silly fool!” Now he felt that he had -never heard anything not merely so beautiful but so thoroughly sensible, -practical and inspired.</p> - -<p>“That’s right!” he cried.</p> - -<p>If he had been standing by a table he would have banged it with his -fist. Situated as he was, in the middle of a garden, all he could do was -to kiss Kay. This he did.</p> - -<p>“Of course,” he said, when the first paroxysm of enthusiasm had passed, -“there’s just this one point to be taken into consideration. I’ve lost -my job, and I don’t know how I’m to get another.”</p> - -<p>“Of course you’ll get another!”</p> - -<p>“Why, so I will!” said Sam, astounded by the clearness of her reasoning. -The idea that the female intelligence was inferior to the male seemed to -him a gross fallacy. How few men could have thought a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_338" id="page_338">{338}</a></span> thing all out in -a flash like that.</p> - -<p>“It may not be a big job, but that will be all the more fun.”</p> - -<p>“So it will.”</p> - -<p>“I always think that people who marry on practically nothing have a -wonderful time.”</p> - -<p>“Terrific!”</p> - -<p>“So exciting.”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“I can cook a bit.”</p> - -<p>“I can wash dishes.”</p> - -<p>“If you’re poor, you enjoy occasional treats. If you’re rich, you just -get bored with pleasure.”</p> - -<p>“Bored stiff.”</p> - -<p>“And probably drift apart.”</p> - -<p>Sam could not follow her here. Loth as he was to disagree with her -lightest word, this was going too far.</p> - -<p>“No,” he said firmly, “if I had a million I wouldn’t drift apart from -you.”</p> - -<p>“You might.”</p> - -<p>“No, I wouldn’t.”</p> - -<p>“I’m only saying you might.”</p> - -<p>“But I shouldn’t.”</p> - -<p>“Well, anyhow,” said Kay, yielding the point, “all I’m saying is that it -will be much more fun being awfully hard up and watching the pennies and -going out to the Palais de Dance at Hammersmith on Saturday night, or if -it was my birthday or something, and cooking our own dinner and making -my own clothes, than—than——”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_339" id="page_339">{339}</a></span></p> -<p>“——living in a gilded cage, watching love stifle,” said Sam, -remembering Leslie Mordyke’s remarks on the subject.</p> - -<p>“Yes. So, honestly, I’m very glad it was all a fairy story about that -money being in Mon Repos.”</p> - -<p>“So am I. Darned glad.”</p> - -<p>“I’d have hated to have it.”</p> - -<p>“So would I.”</p> - -<p>“And I think it’s jolly, your uncle disinheriting you.”</p> - -<p>“Absolutely corking.”</p> - -<p>“It would have spoiled everything, having a big allowance from him.”</p> - -<p>“Everything.”</p> - -<p>“I mean, we should have missed all the fun we’re going to have, and we -shouldn’t have felt so close together and——”</p> - -<p>“Exactly. Do you know, I knew a wretched devil in America who came into -about twenty million dollars when his father died, and he went and -married a girl with about double that in her own right.”</p> - -<p>“What became of him?” asked Kay, shocked.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. We lost touch. But just imagine that marriage!”</p> - -<p>“Awful!”</p> - -<p>“What possible fun could they have had?”</p> - -<p>“None. What was his name?”</p> - -<p>“Blenkiron,” said Sam in a hushed voice. “And hers was Poskitt.”</p> - -<p>For some moments, deeply affected by the tragedy of these two poor bits -of human wreckage, they stood in silence. Sam felt near to tears, and he -thought Kay was bearing up only with some difficulty.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_340" id="page_340">{340}</a></span></p> - -<p>The door leading into the garden opened. Light from the house flashed -upon them.</p> - -<p>“Somebody’s coming out,” said Kay, giving a little start as though she -had been awakened from a dream.</p> - -<p>“Curse them!” said Sam. “Or rather, no,” he corrected himself. “I think -it’s your uncle.”</p> - -<p>Even at such a moment as this, he could harbour no harsh thought toward -any relative of hers.</p> - -<p>It was Mr. Wrenn. He stood on the steps, peering out.</p> - -<p>“Kay!” he called.</p> - -<p>“Yes?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you’re there. Is Shotter with you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Could you both come in for a minute?” inquired Mr. Wrenn, his -voice—for he was a man of feeling—conveying a touch of apology. -“Cornelius is here. He wants to read you that chapter from his history -of Valley Fields.”</p> - -<p>Sam groaned in spirit. On such a night as this young Troilus had climbed -the walls of Troy and stood gazing at the Grecian tents where lay his -Cressida, and he himself had got to go into a stuffy house and listen to -a bore with a white beard drooling on about the mouldy past of a London -suburb.</p> - -<p>“Well, yes, I know; but——” he began doubtfully.</p> - -<p>Kay laid a hand upon his arm.</p> - -<p>“We can’t disappoint the poor old man,” she whispered. “He would take it -to heart so.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but I mean——”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Just as you say,” said Sam.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_341" id="page_341">{341}</a></span></p> - -<p>He was going to make a good husband.</p> - -<p>Mr. Cornelius was in the drawing-room. From under his thick white brows -he peered at them, as they entered, with the welcoming eyes of a man -who, loving the sound of his own voice, sees a docile audience -assembling. He took from the floor a large brown paper parcel and, -having carefully unfastened the string which tied it, revealed a second -and lighter wrapping of brown paper. Removing this, he disclosed a layer -of newspaper, then another, and finally a formidable typescript bound -about with lilac ribbon.</p> - -<p>“The matter having to do with the man Finglass occurs in Chapter Seven -of my book,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Just one chapter?” said Sam, with a touch of hope.</p> - -<p>“That chapter describes the man’s first visit to my office, my early -impressions of him, his words as nearly as I can remember them, and a -few other preliminary details. In Chapter Nine——”</p> - -<p>“Chapter Nine!” echoed Sam, aghast. “You know, as a matter of fact, -there really isn’t any need to read all that, because it turns out that -Finglass never——”</p> - -<p>“In Chapter Nine,” proceeded Mr. Cornelius, adjusting a large pair of -horn-rimmed spectacles, “I show him accepted perfectly unsuspiciously by -the residents of the suburb, and I have described at some length, -because it is important as indicating how completely his outward -respectability deceived those with whom he came in contact, a garden -party given by Mrs. Bellamy-North, of Beau Rivage, in Burberry Road, at -which he appeared and spoke a few words on the subject of the -forthcoming election for the district council.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_342" id="page_342">{342}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“We shall love to hear that,” said Kay brightly. Her eye, wandering -aside, met Sam’s. Sam, who had opened his mouth, closed it again.</p> - -<p>“I remember that day very distinctly,” said Mr. Cornelius. “It was a -beautiful afternoon in June, and the garden of Beau Rivage was looking -extraordinarily attractive. It was larger, of course, in those days. The -house which I call Beau Rivage in my history has since been converted -into two semi-detached houses, known as Beau Rivage and Sans Souci. That -is a change which has taken place in a great number of cases in this -neighbourhood. Five years ago Burberry Road was a more fashionable -quarter, and the majority of the houses were detached. This house where -we are now sitting, for example, and its neighbour, Mon Repos, were a -single residence when Edward Finglass came to Valley Fields. Its name -was then Mon Repos, and it was only some eighteen months later that San -Rafael came into existence as a separate——”</p> - -<p>He broke off; and breaking off, bit his tongue, for that had occurred -which had startled him considerably. One unit in his audience, until -that moment apparently as quiet and well-behaved as the other units, had -suddenly, to all appearances, gone off his head. The young man Shotter, -uttering a piercing cry, had leaped to his feet and was exhibiting -strange emotion.</p> - -<p>“What’s that?” cried Sam. “What did you say?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Cornelius regarded him through a mist of tears. His tongue was -giving him considerable pain.</p> - -<p>“Did you say,” demanded Sam, “that in Finglass’ time San Rafael was part -of Mon Repos?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_343" id="page_343">{343}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Yeh,” said Mr. Cornelius, rubbing the wound tenderly against the roof -of his mouth.</p> - -<p>“Give me a chisel!” bellowed Sam. “Where’s a chisel? I want a chisel!”</p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p>“Bleck my soul!” said Mr. Cornelius. He spoke a little thickly, for his -tongue was still painful. But its anguish was forgotten under the spell -of a stronger emotion. Five minutes had passed since Sam’s remarkable -outburst in the drawing-room; and now, with Mr. Wrenn and Kay, he was -standing in the top back bedroom of San Rafael, watching the young man -as he drew up from the chasm in which he had been groping a very -yellowed, very dusty package which crackled and crumbled in his fingers.</p> - -<p>“Bleck my soul!” said Mr. Cornelius.</p> - -<p>“Good heavens!” said Mr. Wrenn.</p> - -<p>“Sam!” cried Kay.</p> - -<p>Sam did not hear their voices. With the look of a mother bending over -her sleeping babe, he was staring at the parcel.</p> - -<p>“Two million!” said Sam, choking. “Two million—count ’em—two million!”</p> - -<p>A light of pure avarice shone in his eyes. He looked like a man who had -never heard of the unhappy fate of Dwight Blenkiron, of Chicago, -Illinois, and Genevieve, his bride, <i>née</i> Poskitt; or who, having heard, -did not give a whoop.</p> - -<p>“What’s ten per cent on two million?” asked Sam.</p> - -<h3>§ 3</h3> - -<p>Valley Fields lay asleep. Clocks had been wound,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_344" id="page_344">{344}</a></span> cats put out of back -doors, front doors bolted and chained. In a thousand homes a thousand -good householders were restoring their tissues against the labours of -another day. The silver-voiced clock on the big tower over the college -struck the hour of two.</p> - -<p>But though most of its inhabitants were prudently getting their eight -hours and insuring that schoolgirl complexion, footsteps still made -themselves heard in the silence of Burberry Road. They were those of Sam -Shotter of Mon Repos, pacing up and down outside the gate of San Rafael. -Long since had Mr. Wrenn, who slept in the front of that house, begun to -wish Sam Shotter in bed or dead; but he was a mild and kindly man, loth -to shout winged words out of windows. So Sam paced, unrebuked, until -presently other footsteps joined in chorus with his and he perceived -that he was no longer alone.</p> - -<p>A lantern shone upon him.</p> - -<p>“Out late, sir,” said the sleepless guardian of the peace behind him.</p> - -<p>“Late?” said Sam. Trifles like time meant nothing to him. “Is it late?”</p> - -<p>“Just gone two, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Oh? Then perhaps I had better be going to bed.”</p> - -<p>“Suit yourself, sir. Resident here, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Then I wonder,” said the constable, “if I can interest you in a concert -which is shortly to take place in aid of a charitubulorganisation -connection with a body of men to ’oom you as a nouse’older will——”</p> - -<p>“Do you believe in palmists?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_345" id="page_345">{345}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“No, sir—— be the first to admit that you owe the safety of your -person and the tranquillity of your ’ome—the police.”</p> - -<p>“Well, let me tell you this,” said Sam warmly: “Some time ago a palmist -told me that I was shortly about to be married, and I am shortly about -to be married.”</p> - -<p>“Wish you luck, sir. Then perhaps I can ’ave the pleasure of selling you -and your good lady to be a couple of tickets for this concert in aid of -the Policemen’s Orphanage. Tickets, which may be ’ad in any quantity, -consist of the five-shilling ticket——”</p> - -<p>“Are you married?”</p> - -<p>“Yes sir—— the three-shilling ticket, the half-crown ticket, the -shilling ticket, and the sixpenny ticket.”</p> - -<p>“It’s the only life, isn’t it?” said Sam.</p> - -<p>“That of the policeman, sir, or the orphan?”</p> - -<p>“Married life.”</p> - -<p>The constable ruminated.</p> - -<p>“Well, sir,” he replied judicially, “it’s like most things—’as its -advantages and its disadvantages.”</p> - -<p>“Of course,” said Sam, “I can see that if two people married without -having any money, it might lead to a lot of unhappiness. But if you’ve -plenty of money, nothing can possibly go wrong.”</p> - -<p>“Have you plenty of money, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Pots of it.”</p> - -<p>“In that case, sir, I recommend the five-shilling tickets. Say, one for -yourself, one for your good lady to be and—to make up the round -sovereign—a couple for any gentlemen friends you may meet at the club -’oo may desire to be present at what you can take it from me will be a -slap-up entertainment, high class<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_346" id="page_346">{346}</a></span> from start to finish. Constable -Purvis will render Asleep on the Deep——”</p> - -<p>“Look here,” said Sam, suddenly becoming aware that the man was babbling -about something, “what on earth are you talking about?”</p> - -<p>“Tickets, sir.”</p> - -<p>“But you don’t need tickets to get married.”</p> - -<p>“You need tickets to be present at the annual concert in aid of the -Policemen’s Orphanage, and I strongly advocate the purchase of ’alf a -dozen of the five-shilling.”</p> - -<p>“How much are the five-shilling?”</p> - -<p>“Five shillings, sir.”</p> - -<p>“But I’ve only got a ten-pound note on me.”</p> - -<p>“Bring your change to your ’ome to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>Sam became aware with a shudder of self-loathing that he was allowing -this night of nights to be marred by sordid huckstering.</p> - -<p>“Never mind the change,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Sir?”</p> - -<p>“Keep it all. I’m going to be married,” he added in explanation.</p> - -<p>“Keep the ’ole ten pounds, sir?” quavered the stupefied officer.</p> - -<p>“Certainly. What’s ten pounds?”</p> - -<p>There was a silence.</p> - -<p>“If everybody was like you, sir,” said the constable at length, in a -deep, throaty voice, “the world would be a better place.”</p> - -<p>“The world couldn’t be a better place,” said Sam. “Good night.”</p> - -<p>“Good night, sir,” said the constable reverently.</p> - -<p class="fint">(THE END)</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/back.jpg" height="500" alt="" /> -</div> - -<hr class="full" /> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAM IN THE SUBURBS ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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