The Brother of Daphne

Published：2026-08-02 09:05:20 Source: affordable animal figures Author: Fun Day School

THE BROTHER OF DAPHNE

by

Dornford Yates

CHAPTER I

PUNCH AND JUDY

"I said you'd do something," said Daphne, leaning back easily in herlong chair.

I stopped swinging my legs and looked at her.

"Did you, indeed," I said coldly.

My sister nodded dreamily.

"Then you lied, darling. In your white throat," I said pleasantly.

"By the way, d'you know if the petrol's come?"

"I don't even care," said Daphne. "But I didn't lie, old chap. Myword is—"

"Your bond? Quite so. But not mine. The appointment I have in Townthat day—"

"Which day?" said Daphne, with a faint smile.

"The fete day."

"Ah!"

It was a bazaar fete thing. Daphne and several others—euphemisticallystyled workers—had conspired and agreed together to obtain money byfalse pretences for and on behalf of a certain mission, to wit theBanana. I prefer to put it that way. There is a certain smack aboutthe wording of an indictment. Almost a relish. The fact that twoyears before I had been let in for a stall and had defrauded fellow menand women of a considerable sum of money, but strengthened mydetermination not to be entrapped again. At the same time I realizedthat I was up against it.

The crime in question was fixed for Wednesday or Thursday—so much Iknew. But no more. There was the rub. I really could not toil up toTown two days running.

"Let's see," I said carelessly, "the fete's on—er—Wednesday, orThursday, is it?"

"Which day are you going up to Town?" said Daphne. I changed my ground.

"The Bananas are all right," I said, lighting a cigarette.

"They only ate a missionary the other day," said my sister.

"That's bad," said I musingly. "To any nation the consumption of homeproduce is of vital—"

"We want to make sixty pounds."

"To go towards their next meal? How much do missionaries cost?"

"To save their souls alive," said Daphne zealously.

"I'm glad something's to be saved alive," said I.

Before she could reply, tea began to appear. When the footman hadretired to fetch the second instalment of accessories, I pointed thefinger of scorn at the table, upon which he had set the tray.

"That parody emanated from a bazaar," I said contemptuously.

"It does for the garden," said my sister.

"It'd do for anything," said I. "Its silly sides, its crazy legs-"

"Crazy?" cried Daphne indignantly. "It'd bear an elephant."

"What if it would?" I said severely. "It's months since we gave up theelephants."

"Is the kettle ready?"

"It boils not, neither does it sing."

"For which piece of irreverence you will do something on Thursday."

"My dear girl," I said hurriedly, "if it were not imperative for me tobe in Town—"

"You will do something on Thursday." I groaned.

"And this," I said, "this is my mother's daughter! We have been nursedtogether, scolded together, dandled in the same arms. If she had notbeen the stronger of the two, we should have played with the same toys."

I groaned again. Berry opened his eyes.

"The value of a siesta upon a summer afternoon—" he began.

I cut in with a bitter laugh. "What's he going to do?" I said.

"Take a stall, of course," said Daphne.

"Is he?" said Berry comfortably. "Is he? If motoring with Jonah toHuntercombe, and playing golf all day, is not incompatible with takinga stall on Thursday, I will sell children's underwear and egg cosieswith eclat. Otherwise—"

"Golf," I said, "golf! Why don't I play golf?"

"I know," said Berry; "because—"

"Miserable man!" said Daphne.

"Who?" said her husband.

"You."

Berry turned to me. "You hear?" he said. "Vulgar abuse. And why?Simply because a previous engagement denies to me the opportunity ofsubscribing to this charitable imposition. Humble as would have beenmy poor assistance, it would have been rendered with a willing heart.But there!" he sighed—"It may not be. The Bananas will never know,never realize how—— By the way, who are the Bananas?"

"The Bananas?" said I. "Surely you know the—"

"Weren't at Ascot, were they?"

"Not in the Enclosure. No. The bold, bad Bananas are in many ways anengaging race. Indeed, some of the manners and customs which theyaffect are of a quite peculiar interest. Let us look, brother, for amoment, at their clothing. At the first blush—I use the wordadvisedly—it would seem that, like the fruit from which they taketheir name—"

"I thought you'd better do some tricks," said Daphne, throwing a darklook in my direction.

"Of course," I said; "the very thing. I've always been so good attricks."

"I mean it," said Daphne.

"Of course you do. What about the confidence trick? Can any ladyoblige me with a public-house?"

"She means trick-cycling, stupid," said Berry. "Riding backwards onone wheel while you count the ball-bearings."

"Look here," I said, "if Berry could have come and smoked a cigarette,I wouldn't have minded trying to flick the ash off it with ahunting-whip."

"Pity about that golf," mused Berry. "And you might have thrown knivesround me afterwards. As it is, you'll have to recite."

In a few telling sentences I intimated that I would do nothing of thekind.

"I will appear," I said at last, "I will appear and run roundgenerally, but I promise nothing more."

"Nonsense," said my sister. "I have promised, and I'm not going to letyou break my word. You are going to do something definite."

"Desperate?"

"Definite. You have three days in which to get ready. There's Jillcalling me. We're going to run over to Barley to whip up the Ashtoncrowd. D'you think we've enough petrol?"

"I don't even care," said I.

Daphne laughed softly. Then: "I must go," she said, getting up. "Giveme a cigarette and tell me if you think this dress'll do. I'm going tochange my shoes."

"If," said I, producing my cigarette-case, "if you were half as nice asyou invariably look—"

"That's a dear," she said, taking a cigarette. "And now, good-bye."

I watched her retreating figure gloomily.

Berry began to recite 'We are Seven.'

Thursday morning broke cloudless and brilliant. I saw it break.Reluctantly, of course; I am not in the habit of rising at cock-crow.But on this occasion I rose because I could not sleep. When I went tobed on Wednesday night, I lay awake thinking deeply about what I was todo on the morrow. Daphne had proved inexorable. My brain, usually sofertile, had become barren, and for my three days' contemplation of thesubject I had absolutely nothing to show. It was past midnight beforeI fell into a fitful slumber, only to be aroused three hours and a halflater by the sudden burst of iniquity with which two or more cats sawfit to shake the silence of the rose-garden.

As I threw out the boot-jack, I noticed the dawn. And as further sleepseemed out of the question, I decided to dress and go out into thewoods.

When I slipped out of Knight's Bottom into the sunlit road to findmyself face to face with a Punch and Judy show, I was not far frombeing momentarily disconcerted. For a second it occurred to me that Imight be dreaming, but, though I listened carefully, I could hear nocats, so I sat down on the bank by the side of the road and prepared tocontemplate the phenomenon.

When I say 'Punch and Judy show' I am wrong. Although what I sawsuggested the proximity of a Punch and a Judy, to say nothing of thelikelihood of a show, I did not, as a matter of fact, descry any one ofthe three. The object that presented itself to my view was the tall,rectangular booth, gaudy and wide-mouthed, with which, until a fewyears ago, the streets of London were so familiar. Were! Dear oldPunch and Judy, how quickly you are becoming a thing of the past! Howsoon you will have gone the way of Jack-i'-the Green, Pepper's Ghost,the Maypole, and many another old friend! Out of the light into thedarkness. The old order changeth, yielding place to new, and in alittle space men shall be content to wonder at your ancient memory astheir grandfathers marvelled at that of the frolics of my Lord ofMisrule. However.

There was the booth. But that was all. It stood quite alone at theside of the white road. I walked round it. Nothing. I glanced up anddown the road, but there was no one in sight. I had been feelinghungry, for it was seven o'clock; but this was better than breakfast,and I returned to the bank. The little red curtains fluttered, as apassing breeze caught them, and I marked how bright and new theylooked. It was certainly in good condition—this booth.

"Well?" said a voice.

"Well?" said I.

A pause. A girl's voice it was: coming from within the booth.

"You seem rather surprised," said the voice.

"No, no," I said, "not really surprised. Only a little staggered. Yousee, I know so few booths."

"What are you doing here?"

"To be frank, booth, I'm waiting."

"I'm waiting, too."

"So?" said I. "I wait, you wait, let us wait, ye shall have been aboutto see, they would—"

"What are you waiting for?"

"Developments. And you?"

"My breakfast."

I looked up and down the road. "I don't see it coming," I saidanxiously. "What's it look like?"

"Milk. You don't happen to have any, I suppose?"

I felt in my pockets.

"There, now," I said, "I must have left it on the piano. I got uprather hurriedly this morning," I added apologetically.

"Never mind."

"I'll tell you what, booth, I'll go and get some."

"No, thanks very much. Don't you bother; it'll come along presently."

"Are you sure? This isn't 'The Blue Bird.'"

"Yes, it's all right—really."

There was another pause. Then:

"Hadn't you better be getting back to breakfast?" said the girl.

"Not much," said I. "I don't run up against booths every day.Besides—"

"Besides what?"

"Well, booth, I'm awfully curious."

"What do you want to know?"

"You're very good."

"I didn't say I'd tell you."

"I'll risk that. In a word, why are you?"

"Ah!"

I waited in silence for a few moments. At length:

"Suppose," she said slowly, "suppose a bet had been made."

"A bet?"

"A bet."

"Shocking! Go on."

"Well? Isn't that enough?"

"Nothing like."

"I don't think much of your imagination."

I raised my eyes to heaven. "A prophet is not without honour," Iquoted.

"Is this your own country?"

"It is."

"Oh, I say, you'd be the very man!"

"I am," I said. "Refuse substitutes."

It gradually appeared that, in a rash moment, she had made some sillywager that she could give a Punch and Judy show on her own in thevillage of Lynn Hammer and the vicinity. Of course, she had not meantit. She had spoken quite idly, secure in the very impracticability ofthe thing. But certain evil-disposed persons—referred to mysteriouslyas 'they'—had fastened greedily upon her words, and, waving aside herobjection that she had no paraphernalia, deliberately proceeded toprovide the same, that she might have no excuse. The booth was run up,the puppets procured. The gentle hint that she wanted to withdraw hadbeen let fall at the exact moment with deadly effect, and—the wickedwork was done. She had been motored over and here set down, completewith booth, half an hour ago. They were going to look back later, justto see how she was getting on. The ordeal was to be over and the wagerwon by six o'clock, and she might have the assistance of a native inher whimsical venture.

"Right up to the last I believe the brutes thought I would cry off,"she said. "I very nearly did, too, when it came to it. Only I sawPeter smiling. It is rather a hopeless position, isn't it?"

"It was. But now that you've got your native—"

"Oh!" she said. Then: "But I've got one."

"Where?"

"He's getting the milk."

"I don't believe he is. Anyway, you can discharge him and take me on.I've been out of work for years. Besides, you've been sent. In youradvent I descry the finger of Providence."

"I wish I did. What do you mean?"

"This day," I said, "I am perforce a zealot."

"A what?"

"A zealot—a Banana zealot. You, too, shall be a zealot. We willunite our zeal, and this day light such a candle—"

"The man's mad," she said. "Quite mad."

I explained. "You see," I said, "it's like this. Simply miles away,somewhere south south and by south of us, there are a lot of heathen.They're called Bananas. I don't know very much about it, but thereseems to be a sort of understanding that we should keep them inmissionaries. So every now and then the 'worker' push here get up afete thing and take money off people. Then they find one and send himout. Well, there's one of these stunts on this afternoon, and I'vebeen let in to do something. That's why I look so pale andinteresting. The last day or two I've been desperate about it. Butnow..."

"Now what?"

"If you'd let me help you to-day, we could take the show to the feteand simply rake it in. It's a splendid way of winning your bet, too.Oh, booth, isn't it obvious that you've been sent?"

"It certainly would be nicer than giving performances about thevillage," she said musingly. "If only I knew you—"

"You don't know the fellow who isn't getting the milk," I objected.

"That's different. He'd be only a servant."

"I would be the same."

There was a pause. A rabbit loped into the road and blinked curiouslyat the booth. Then he saw me and beat a hasty retreat.

"It is in a good cause," I urged. "You don't know the Bananas; they'reabsurdly—er—straight."

"It's all very well for you," she said; "you know everybody here. Butit would be an impossible position for me; I don't know a soul. Now,if we were both strangers—"

"Well?"

"Well, then they wouldn't worry as to who we were and what we had to dowith one another."

"Then let's both be strangers."

"How can you be strange to order?"

"Hush!" I said. "I will disguise me. At home I have put away aPierrot dress not one of them knows anything about, and I think I canraise a mask. If I—"

A stifled exclamation from the booth made me look up. Framed in itsmouth, her arms folded and resting on the ledge, was the girl.

What I could see of her was dressed as a Pierrot. Her hair wasconcealed under a black silk cap, and the familiar white felt conicalhat sat jauntily over one ear. A straight, white nose, and a delicatechin, red lips parted and smiling a little, such a smile as goes alwayswith eyebrows just raised, very alluring—so much only I saw. For therest, a strip of black velvet made an irritating mask.

I made her a low bow.

"I can see this is going to be a big thing," I said. "Won't you comedown?"

"I haven't even said I'll take you,"

"Please."

"You're sure to be recognized, and then, what about me?"

"Oh, no, I shan't. If necessary, I'll wear a false nose. I've got onesomewhere."

"Here's my milk."

I looked round and beheld a small boy approaching with a jug.

"Was that the best you could do in the native line?"

"You needn't sneer. I'm not over-confident about my second venture."

"Well, a knave's better than a fool, any day."

"I'm sure I hope so."

She slipped down out of sight into the booth again, to reappear amoment later in the road: and by her side a beautiful whitebull-terrier, a Toby ruff about his sturdy neck.

"Good man," said my lady, pointing a finger at me. "Good man."

The dog came forward, wagging his tail. I stooped and spoke with him.Then I turned to his mistress. She had discarded her white hat anddrawn on a long dust-coat, which reached almost to her ankles. Sheheld it close about her, as she walked. It showed off her slim figureto great advantage. Below, the wide edges of white duck trousers justappeared above shining insteps and high heeled shoes.

When the urchin had come up, she took the jug from him with both hands.

"I shall have to drink out of it," she said, raising it to her lipswith a smile.

"Of course. Why not? Only ..."

I hesitated.

"What?"

"Hadn't you better—I mean, won't the mask get in your way?"

She lowered the jug and looked at me. "No; it won't get in the way.Thanks all the same," she said steadily. "Not all to-day."

"It's in the way now."

"Not my way."

I saw her eyes watching my face as she drank, and when she took the jugfrom her lips she was smiling.

We had some difficulty in persuading the boy to leave us; but atlength, a heavy bribe, coupled with the assurance that we should be atthe fete in the afternoon, had the desired effect, and he went slowlyaway.

Thereafter we took counsel together.

As a result, it was decided that we should fold the booth—it shut uplike a screen—and convey it, puppets and all, a little way into thewood. It was early yet, but some people would be passing along theroad, and we were not yet ready to combat the curiosity that theappearance of a Punch and Judy show would be sure to arouse. Thatdone, she would lie close in the wood with Toby, while I made off homeand changed.

As I started off, after settling her in the bracken, I heard thevillage clock strike the half-hour. Half-past seven. I gained thehouse unobserved. No one was abroad except the servants, but I heardDaphne singing in the bathroom.

I had worn the Pierrot dress two years ago at a fancy-dress ball.

There it lay with its mask at the bottom of the wardrobe. The changewas soon completed, and I stood up a proper Folly, from the skull capupon my crown to the pumps upon my feet. It took some time to find thenose, but luck was with me, and at last I ran it to earth in an oldcollar-box. Truly an appalling article, it stuck straight out from myface like a fat, fiery peg, but between that and the mask, my disguisewould defy detection.

Suddenly I had a brilliant idea. Sitting down, I scribbled a note toDaphne to the effect that, owing to a sleepless night, my nerve hadforsaken me, and that, unable to face the terror of the bazaar, I hadfled to Town, and should not be back till late. I added that I shouldbe with her in the spirit, which, after all, was the main thing.

I put on a long overcoat and a soft hat. The nose went into onepocket, the mask into another. Then I went cautiously downstairs andinto the dining-room. It was empty, and breakfast was partially laid.

In feverish haste I hacked about a pound of meat off a York ham andnearly as much off a new tongue. Wrapping the slices in a napkin, Ithrust them into the pocket with the nose. To add half a brown loaf tothe mask and drain the milk jug was the work of another moment, and,after laying the note on Daphne's plate, I slipped out of the Frenchwindows and into the bushes as I heard William come down the passage. Aquarter of an hour later I was back again in the wood.

She was sitting on a log, swinging her legs to and fro. When I tookoff my coat and hat, she clapped her hands in delight.

"Wait till you see the nose," said I.

When presently I slipped that French monstrosity into place, shelaughed so immoderately that her brown hair broke loose from under theblack silk cap and tumbled gloriously about her shoulders.

"There now," she said. "See what you've done."

"Good for the nose," said I.

"It's all very well to say that, but it took me ages to get it allunder the wretched cap this morning."

"I shouldn't put it back again if I were you. You see," I went onearnestly, "everybody will know you're a girl, Judy dear."

"Why, Punch?" She drew aside the dust coat and revealed the widePierrot trousers she was wearing.

"Priceless," I admitted. "But what I really love are your feet."

She looked concernedly at her little, high-heeled shoes.

I stooped to flick the dust from their patent leather.

"Thank you, Punch. What shall I do about my hair, then?"

"Wear it in a pig-tail. I'll plait it for you. It'll be worth anothersovereign to the Bananas."

"If you put it like that—" she said slowly.

"I do, Judy."

If the suggestion was not prompted by motives which were entirelydisinterested, I think I may be forgiven.

"I say, Judy," I said a little later, pausing unnecessarily in my work,and making pretence to comb with my fingers the tresses as yetungathered into the plait.

"Yes? What a long time you are!"

Well, there was a knot.

She tried to look round into my face at that, but I vigorouslyunplaited about two inches, which seemed to satisfy her. For me, Ithought of Penelope and her web and the wooers, and smiled.

"Well, what is it, Punch?"

"About the mask."

"No good!"

"But, Judy—"

For the next two minutes I did a little listening. When she paused forbreath:

"Have some ham," I suggested.

"Bother the ham! Do you hear what I say?"

"I heard you bother the ham."

"Before that?"

"Something about a mask, was it?"

"Give me back my hair," she demanded.

"No, no," I said hastily, "not that! I won't ask again."

"Promise."

"I promise."

When I had finished the plaiting, I tied the ends with a piece ofribbon which she produced, kissed them, and sat down in the grass ather feet.

We had oceans of time, for the fete did not begin till two. But weagreed there must be a rehearsal of some kind.

"What do you know about yourself, Punch?"

"I have a foggy recollection of domestic differences."

"You used to beat me cruelly."

"Ah, but you had a nagging tongue, Judy. I can hear your defiant'wootle' now."

Her lips parted in a smile at the reminiscence, and before they closedagain she had slipped something between them. The next instant thewood rang with a regular hurricane of toots and wootles.

"Oh, Judy!"

"Wootle?" she said inquiringly.

"Rather! But hush—you'll wake the echoes."

"And why not? They ought to be up and about by now."

I shook my head.

"They're a sleepy folk," I said; "they get so little rest. The day isnoisy enough, but at night, what with dogs baying the moon, and thenightjars calling, when owls do cry—"

"When owls do cry—"

"—and the earnest but mistaken chanticleer, they have a rotten time.Poor echoes! And they wake very easily here."

"Don't they everywhere?"

"Oh, no! I know some that are very heavy sleepers. In fact, it'shopeless to try and wake them without the welkin."

"The welkin?"

"Yes, you make him ring, you know. They nearly always hear him. Andif they don't the first time, you make him ring again."

For a little space she laughed helplessly. At last:

"I am an idiot to encourage you. Seriously," she added, "about thelittle play."

"Presently by us to be enacted?"

"The plot," I said, "is as follows. Punch has a row with Judy andknocks her out. (Laughter.) Various well-intentioned and benignantfools look in on Punch to pass the time of day, and get—veryproperly—knocked out for their pains. (Loud and prolonged laughter.)This is followed by the side-splitting incident in which a handy clownnot only eludes the thirsty bludgeon, but surreptitiously steals theinevitable sausages. Exit clown. Punch, already irritated at havingmissed clown, misses sausages, and exit in high dudgeon. Re-enterJudy, followed by sausaged clown, who comforts her. (Oh, Judy!)Re-enter Punch. Justifiable tussle. Punch sees sausages and begins tofind his length. Clown sees stars and exit. Punch knocks out Judywith a left hook. To him, gloating, enter constable. It seems Judy'sknock-out more serious than usual. Constable suggests that Punch shallgo quietly. Punch does not see it, and retires to fetch persuader.Constable protests and is persuaded. (Laughter.) Enter ghost—notclear whose ghost, but any ghost in a storm. Punch unnerved. Ghostgibbers. Punch more unnerved. Ghost gibbers again. Punch terrified.Exit ghost and enter hangman, to whom Punch, unstrung by recentencounter with apparition, falls an easy prey. Curtain. You bow fromthe mouth of the booth. I adjust nose and collect money in diminutivetin pail. How's that?"

"Lovely, Punch! But where does Toby dear come in?"

At the mention of his name the terrier rose and went to her. Hismistress stroked his soft head.

"In the background," said I. "Or the offing (nautical). I don't thinkhe'd better act. Let him be stage-door-keeper."

"All right. Now open the puppet-box."

It was a nice set of puppets, and they were very simple to manipulate.They fitted easily on to the hand, the forefinger controlling the head,and the thumb and second finger the arms. The old fellow's cudgel wasa dream.

We decided that I had better stick to Punch and Punch alone. For theothers she would be answerable.

After rehearsing for half an hour, we stopped for breakfast. In theabsence of cutlery, it was a ragged meal, but what mattered that? Wewere for letting the world slip—we should ne'er be younger.

People were stirring now. Carts rumbled in the distance, and cars sangpast on the long, white road. Presently came one that slowed andslowed and stopped.

It was unfortunate that, but a moment before, I should have grownimpatient of a large piece of crust and thrust it bodily into my mouth.But although articulation at this interesting juncture was out of thequestion, I laid an eloquent hand upon her arm and crowded as muchexpression as I could into a swollen and distorted visage. She glancedat me and collapsed in silent infectious laughter. And so it happenedthat, while we two conspirators lay shaking in the bracken, her friendsturned their car wonderingly round and drove slowly back into thevillage away from her they sought.

Another hour and a half of somewhat desultory rehearsal found us'wootle' perfect and ready for anything. So we laid the puppets by,fed Toby with brown bread and tongue, and rested against the labours ofthe afternoon.

The time passed quickly enough—too quickly.

It was a few minutes past one when, having adjusted my mask and slid mynose into position, I got the booth upon my shoulders and stepped outinto the road.

"Come along," I said encouragingly.

"I'm afraid. Oh, there's something coming."

"Nonsense! I wish I hadn't packed that bludgeon."

"I'm nervous, Punch."

"Will you make me drag you along by the hair of your head? Of course,it'd be in the picture right enough, but I rather want two hands forthis infernal booth. However, let me once get a good grip on that softpigtail—"

"What—again?"

"Ah, that was in love, Judy."

The next second she had joined me on the white highway, the faithfulToby a short pace behind her. His not to reason why. A good fellow,Toby.

It was rather a nervous moment. But, in spite of an approachingwagonette, she walked bravely beside me with the puppet-box under herarm. The occupants of the vehicle began to evince great curiosity aswe drew nearer, but their mare caught sight of my nose at the criticalmoment and provided an opportune diversion.

"So perish all our enemies!" she said with a sigh of relief.

"Stage-fright, Judy, dear. You'll be all right in a minute. We'rebound to excite interest. It's what we're for and what we want. I'llkeep it going. Give me your wootler."

She handed me the reed, and I held it ready between my lips.

"Buck up, lass!"

Ten minutes more and we entered the village. The grounds where thefete was to be holden lay three-quarters of a mile further on. Theball was opened by two small errand boys, on whose hands, as is usualwith the breed, time was lying heavily. They were engaged in deepconverse as we came up, and it was only when we were close upon themthat they became aware of our presence. For a few seconds they staredat us, apparently rooted to the spot, and as if they could not believetheir good fortune. Then one broke into an explosive bellow ofdelight, while the other ran off squeaking with excitement to findother devils who should share the treasure-trove. But, unlike hisinfamous predecessor, he was not content with seven. When he returned,it was but as the van of a fast-swelling rabble. His erstwhilecompanion, who had been backing steadily in front of me ever since heleft, and had, after a hurried consideration of the respective meritsof the booth and the box under Judy's arm, rejected them both in favourof my nose, kept his eyes fastened greedily upon that organ with sodesperate an air of concentration that I was quite relieved when hetripped over a brick and fell on his back in the road.

And all this time our following grew. The news of our advent hadspread like wildfire. Old men and maidens, young men and boys, thematron and the maid, alike came running. Altogether, Lynn Hammer wasset throbbing with an excitement such as it had not experienced sincethe baker's assistant was wrongly arrested for petty larceny in 1904.

Amongst those who walked close about us, candid speculation as to theprobable venue of the performance was rife, while its style, length,value, etc., were all frankly discussed. Many were the questionsraised, and many the inaccurate explanations accepted as to the reasonof our being; but though my companion came in for some inevitablediscussion, I was relieved to find that my panache and a comicpeculiarity of gait, which I thought it as well from time to time toaffect, proved usefully diverting.

When the crowd had begun to assume considerable proportions, Judy hadslipped her arm in mine, and an answering pressure to my encouragingsqueeze told me that she was trying to buck up as well as she could.Good little Judy! It was an ordeal for you, but you came through itwith flying colours, though with a flaming cheek.

When we reached the triangular piece of grass that lay in front of thevillage inn, I called a halt with such suddenness as to create greatconfusion in the swarming ranks that followed in our wake. But whilethey sorted themselves, I slipped the booth off my shoulders, gave onelong, echoing call upon the reed, and, striking an attitude, made readyto address the expectant villagers.

After carefully polishing my nose with a silk handkerchief—an actionwhich met with instant approval—I selected a fat, red-faced drayman,thanked him, and said that mine was a Bass, an assertion which foundhigh favour with the more immediate cronies of the gentleman inquestion. Then I got to work.

After dwelling lightly on the renown in which the village of LynnHammer was held throughout the countryside, not to mention a gallantreference to the wit, beauty, and mirth which was assembled about me, Iplunged into a facetious resume of recent local events. This, ofcourse, came to me easily enough, but the crowd only saw therein thelucky ventures of a talkative stranger, and roared with merriment ateach happy allusion. And so I came to the Bananas. Yes, we were forthe fete. There should we be the livelong afternoon, giving freeshows, and only afterwards soliciting contribution from such as couldafford to give in a good cause. God save the King!

Then I called for mine host, and after ordering ginger beer for Judyand old ale for myself, slapped silver into his hand, and begged asmany as would so honour her to drink the lady's health.

About that there was no difficulty, and when I had despatched theoriginal boy—who all this while had never wavered in his constancy tomy proboscis—for a small tin pail, I prepared to get my burden oncemore upon my back. But this was not to be. Four good fellows insistedon constituting themselves booth-bearers, and the burly draymangallantly relieved my fair companion of the box of puppets.

So we came in state to the grounds where the bazaar was to be held.The parley with the gatekeeper was of short duration, for the 'workers'scented money in our admission, and, with an eye to the Bananas' mainchance, made us quickly welcome. On my explaining our intention to putour efforts at their service, and any increment that might result intotheir pockets, their expression of gratitude was quite touching.

The entrance fee deterred some, and their daily occupation more ofthose who had formed our kindly escort, from following us into thefete, but I believe that most of them contrived to return before sixo'clock.

When I think of all that I said and did on that sunny afternoon, I gethot all over.

I could not go very far wrong during the actual performance, but it wasafterwards, when Judy sat smiling in the mouth of the booth, and I wentforth, pail in hand, seeking whom I might devour.

I drew my arm familiarly through that of a reluctant curate, and walkedhim smartly up and down, discussing volubly the merits of my nose intones which suggested that I had no roof to my mouth, Did a ladyprotest that she had already contributed, I repeated "Oh, madam!"reproachfully and crescendo till the hush-money was paid, while infront of those who affected not to see my out-stretched hand, I stoodas if rooted to the spot. I borrowed the vicar's wideawake, ostensiblyfor a conjuring trick, and wore it assiduously for the rest of theafternoon and, on his demurring to such use, I explained, in the voiceof G.P.Huntley, that it went so well with the nose.

In short, I played the mountebank to a degree that astonished myself,but apparently to some purpose, for the money came in properly.

The performances went with a bang, and when, at the conclusion of theplaylet, I lifted Judy to the rickety shelf, so that her head andshoulders were framed in the mouth of the booth, it was the signal fora burst of applause.

On one of these occasions:

"It's not fair that I should take every call," she said, looking downat my upturned face.

"My dear Judy, I have my reward."

"What?"

"Don't I lift you up every time?"

She laughed pleasedly.

"Gallant Punch, you're easily satisfied."

"Am I, Judy—am I?" I said gently, taking her hand.

"Yes," she said, snatching it away. "You are and will be. Go out andget the money."

I adjusted my nose thoughtfully. Daphne was, of course, in greatevidence. Anxious to run no unnecessary risk, I avoided her whenpossible, and when I did find myself in her proximity, I at onceindulged in some of my more extravagant behaviour.

"Where's your brother?" I heard a worker say.

"Brother!" said Daphne bitterly. "Coward! And I really thought weshould have him this time. Fled to London before we were up thismorning, thank you. From the amount of food he took with him, and theway he took it, anyone would have thought he was an escaped convict.Guilty conscience, I suppose. One hears a good deal about recordflights nowadays, but I'd back my miserable brother against anyaviator. My husband's promised to look in about five, if he's backfrom Huntercombe. That's something. But they're a wretched lot. Oh,here's one of the Pierrots!"

I hung the pail on my nose and looked at her.

"As one of the organizers of the fete," she said hastily, "I must thankyou—"

"Nothing doing, madam," said I, in an assumed voice.

"But"

"Free list entirely suspended, madam," and I shook the pail mercilessly.

A small and grinning crowd had begun to collect, so Daphne parted upwith a forced smile, and I went off chuckling to queer the animals'race.

Our penultimate performance was over, and I was in the midst of myvagaries again, when I saw Berry. Unanxious to tempt Providence, Iretired precipitately to the shelter of the booth. My companion wassitting disconsolately upon the box on which she stood to work herpuppets.

"Is it time for the next show?" she said.

"Not for a quarter of an hour."

I sat down at her feet and removed my mask and nose.

"I'm afraid I persuaded your hand last time, Judy."

"You touched it."

"Let me look."

"It doesn't show."

"Let me look."

After examining the knuckles carefully, I turned my attention to thesoft little palm.

"Obstinacy," I said. "Obstinacy is clearly indicated by the dimplesituate below Saturn and to the right of the watering-pot."

She tried to draw it away, but I tightened my hold and proceeded withmy investigation.

"A gentle and confiding nature, characterized by a penchant forescapade, is denoted by the joy-wheel at the base of Halley's Comet.And so we come to the life-belt. This—my word, this is all right!Unrivalled for resistance to damp and wear, will last three to sixtimes as long as ordinary paint—I mean life—of extraordinarydurability. Now for the heart-line. The expert will here descry acurious mixture of—"

Further investigation she cut short by so determined an attempt atwithdrawal that I let her hand go.

"Oughtn't we to be beginning again?"

"You're very eager for the last show."

"No, I'm not, but I want to get it over."

"Oh, Judy!"

She laid her hand on my shoulder.

"No, Punch, no, I didn't mean that. It's been—great fun."

"It's sweet of you to say that."

"It's not. Don't you think I've liked it?"

I leaned forward.

"Dear Judy," I said, "very soon it will be over, and we shall go ourseveral ways once more. And if we don't meet, as the months and yearsgo by, when other cleverer, better men walk by your side, and gloriousdays crowd thick about you, throw a spare thought to the old time whenyou were a strolling player, and the poor fool you gave the honour ofyour company."

She turned her head away, but she did not speak.

"You'll not forget me, Judy?"

She caught her breath and slipped a hand under her mask for a second.Then:

"Next show, Punch," she cried. "No, of course, I shan't. You've beenvery good to me."

She was on her feet by now and busily arranging the puppets. Igroaned. The next moment she had wound a long call upon the reed,which put further converse out of the question.

The last performance began. The first quarrel seemed to lack itswonted bitterness. Punch appeared halfhearted, and Judy was simplywalking through.

I glanced at the girl and stroked her pig-tail—my pig-tail.

"Wootle," I said encouragingly. "Wootle, wootle."

She started at my touch. Then she seemed to remember, and flungherself into her part with abandon.

When the ghost was on, I had a brilliant idea.

"Leave the hangman out," I whispered, "and put up Judy instead. We'llhave a reconciliation to finish with."

And so to Punch, sobered, shaking, cowering in the corner, with hislittle plaster hands before his face, came his poor wife. (Oh, but shedid it well!) Gently, timidly, bravely, she laid a trembling hand uponhis shoulder, and coaxed his hands from before his frightened eyes,then, backing, stood with outstretched, appealing little arms—agesture at once so loving and pathetic that Punch was fain to thrusthis sleeve before his eyes and turn his face in shame to the wall.Softly went Judy to him again, touched him, and waited. And as heturned again, to find two little arms stealing about his neck, and apoor, bare, bruised head upon his chest, he flung his arms about herwith a toot of joy, and clasped her in the accepted fashion. Oh, verycharming.

This was greeted with prolonged applause.

"Hold it," I said. "Hold the picture!"

As she obeyed I slid my left arm about her, ready to lift her up.

Suddenly Punch became limp and lifeless in his wife's embrace, and withmy freed right hand I slipped her mask over her forehead, smiled intoher eyes, and kissed them.

"I promised not to ask again."

"Punch!"

So for a moment we two let the world wag. Then the whole booth fellheavily over, mouth uppermost, and we within it. It was the final ofthe animal race that was responsible for our overthrow. The black pig,blind with jealous rage and mortification at being beaten on the tapeby a cochin china, had borne violently down upon the booth and upsetit, with wicked grunts of satisfaction.

"Hurt, dear?" said I.

"No."

As she slipped her mask into place, Berry put his head in at the mouthof the booth. Maskless, noseless, I looked at him. Slowly hisastonished features relaxed in a grin.

"So!" he said softly. "I might have known."

CHAPTER II

CLOTHES AND THE MAN

"This," said Berry, "is all right. By which I mean—"

We assured him we knew what he meant, and that no explanation wasnecessary.

"All right," he said at last. "There. I've said it again now. You'requite sure you do know what I mean? Because, if you've the leasthesitation—"

"Will you be quiet?" said Daphne.

"Alright."

It was a beautiful August morning. After a roaring season in town, wehad, all five—Berry, Daphne, Jonah, Jill, and myself—girded our jadedloins, packed, crawled into the car, and rolled down to Cornwall, thereto build up the wasted tissues, go to bed at ten, and forget that therewere such things as theatres and ballrooms.

We took a couple of days coming down by road, and our run was notwithout incident.

I wish cyclists would not hang on behind.

In Kingston a monger's boy, with some fish that were patently feelingthe heat, took hold of the cape-hood. I spoke with him after a little.

"The use of this hood," I said, "for heavy and bulky packages involvesrisk of injury to passengers, and is prohibited. Didn't you know that?"

He regarded me with a seraphic smile, nearly lost his life by gettinginto a tram-line, and said I ought to know better than to talk to theman at the wheel.

"Friend," said I, "I perceive you are a humorist. Lo, here in this carare already three humorists. Under these unfortunate circumstances, Ihave no alternative but to ask you to withdraw."

It was just then that the near hind tyre burst exactly under him.

We gave him half a sovereign towards buying a new bicycle, but Ibelieve he will always think we did it on purpose.

It had been arranged that we should spend the night at Salisbury andpush on to Cornwall on the following day. We made the Cathedral citysoon after five and slipped out to see Stonehenge. There were a fewother people there, and one or two of them turned to watch our arrival.Berry left the car and went straight to the nearest—a fat tradesman,wearing a new imitation panama and a huge calabash.

"Can you tell me if this is Stoke Poges?" we heard him say. The restof us alighted and walked hurriedly away in the opposite direction.Clearly my brother-in-law was in a certain mood and no fit companionfor the sensitive. Memories of the unutterable torment, to which onlike occasions we had been mercilessly subjected, by reason of Berry'smost shameless behaviour among strangers, rose up before us. The factthat he called after us caused Daphne to break into a run.

Our luck was out. When we had completed the circle of the cromlechs,we came suddenly upon him. More to our dismay than surprise he hadbecome the centre of a little knot of excursionists, who were listeningto him eagerly. As we appeared:

"Ah," he said to the interested company, "here is my Aunt! She'll tellyou. Aunt Daphne, wasn't it here that father lost the string bag?"

"Wretched fool!" said Daphne under her breath, turning hurriedly in thedirection of the car.

Berry watched her retreat, and turned to his listeners with a sigh.

"I'm afraid I've gone and upset her now," he said. "I oughtn't to havereminded her of the untoward incident. It was the only string bag theyhad, and it was an awful blow to her. It upset him, too, terribly.Never the same man again. In fact, from that day he began to gowrong—criminally, I mean."

The little group grew closer to him than ever. Like a fool, I stayedto hear more.

"Yes," Berry went on, "in less than a month he was up at the OldBailey, under the Merchandise Marks Act, for selling Gruyere cheesewith too big holes in it. Five years his sentence was. Let's see, heought to be coming out in about—oh, about—When does father come out,Cousin Albert?"

The excursionists gazed greedily at me—the felon's son. I approachedBerry and laid a hand upon his arm. Then I turned to the little group.

"This fellow," I said, "has got us into trouble before. Those of youwho have motor-cars will understand me when I refer to the greatdifficulty of securing a really trustworthy chauffeur. Now, this manis honest and a most careful driver, but when he is, so to speak, offduty, he is so unfortunate as to suffer from delusions, usuallyconnected with crime and the administration of the criminal law. Whilewe were having lunch at Whitchurch only this afternoon, he went off tothe police-station and tried to give himself up for the Hounslowmurder, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir," faltered Berry.

"And all the time," I went on, "I'm not at all satisfied myself that hedid murder the woman, although things certainly looked rather black—"

"I did!" said Berry fiercely.

The crowd of excursionists recoiled, and a small boy in a green flannelblazer burst into tears.

"Any way," I said, "there isn't anything like enough evidence againstyou, so we won't argue it. Now, then, we want to be going. Comealong."

"Half a shake, sir," said Berry, feeling in his pockets. "You knowthat knife—"

The company began nervously to disperse. Some exhorted one another toobserve some feature of the cromlechs which was only visible from somepoint of vantage on the side other to that on which we stood. Othersagreed that they had no idea that it was so late, and the fat tradesmangave a forced shiver and announced that he must have left his coatbehind "that big one."

"I'll get it for you, sir," said Berry, opening his knife.

I was forced to admit that Stonehenge looked far more impressive whenapparently deserted, than with one or two tourists, however genial andguileless, in a high holiday humour in the foreground. At the sametime, as we walked back to the car, I felt that I owed it to myself tolodge a grave protest against the indecent and involving methods mybrother-in-law had seen fit to employ.

"After all," I concluded, "the fellow's your brother, and even if hispanama wasn't a real one, that's no reason why he should be made to dothe hundred in about twelve seconds. He wasn't in strict trainingeither. You could see that. Besides, why rope me in? For yourself,if you must play the comic idiot—"

"He wasn't in the picture," said Berry. "None of them were. Thatkid's blazer absolutely killed the grass for miles around. Didn't yousee how brown it had gone? That," he added coolly, "is the worst ofhaving an artistic eye. One must pay for these things."

After spending the night at Salisbury, we pushed on to the Cornishcoast. It was not until we were within three miles of our village thatwe lost the way. When we found it again, we were seven miles off.That is the worst of a car. However.

Stern is a place, where the coast-line is a great glory. The cliffsrise there, tall, dark, majestic-grave, too, especially grave. Whenthe sky is grey, they frown always, and even the warm rays of thesetting sun but serve to light their grand solemnity. Very differentis the changing sea at their foot. At times it will ripple all day,agog with smiling; anon, provoked by an idle breeze's banter, you shallsee it black with rage. In the morning, maybe, it will sleep placidlyenough in the sunshine, but at eventide the wind has ruffled itstemper, so that it mutters and heaves with anger, breathing forththreatenings. Yet the next dawn finds it alive with mischievousmerriment and splitting its sides with laughter, to think how it hasduped you the night before. The great grave cliffs and the shiftingsea, and, beyond, woodland and pastures and deep meadows, where thecows low in the evenings, while the elms tower above them, their leavesunshaken by the wind—it is not difficult to grow fond of Stern.

And now we were sitting on the cliffs in the heat of the morning sun,half a mile from the village and another from the places where it wasbest to bathe.

After a while:

"Aren't you glad I made you come here?" said Daphne triumphantly.

I sat up and stared at her sorrowfully.

"Well?" she said defiantly.

"You have taken my breath away," I said, "Kindly return it, and I willdeal with you and your interrogatories."

"I suppose you're going to say it was you—"

"It was. I did. I have. But for me you would not. You are. I tookthe rooms. I drove the car nearly the whole way down. I got you allhere. I sent the luggage on in advance."

"With the result that it got here two days after we did, and I had towear the same tie three days running, and go down to bathe inpatent-leather boots, thanks very much," said Berry.

Beyond saying that I was not responsible for the crass and purblindidiocy of railway officials, I ignored this expression of ingratitudeand continued to deal with Daphne.

"You know," I said, "there are times when I tremble for you. Onlyyesterday, just before dinner, I trembled for you like anything."

"It's the heat," said my target, as if explaining something.

"And my reward is covert reflections upon my sanity. Need I say more?"

"No," said everybody.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your kind attention. The nextperformance will be at four o'clock this afternoon, underneath thepromenade pier."

I relapsed into comfortable silence and sank back into the bracken. Mysister got up from the clump of heather in which she was ensconced,crossed to where I was, took my pipe out of my mouth and kissed me.

"Sorry, old boy," she said; "you're not such a bad sort, really."

"Dear love," said I, "what have you left behind?"

"My bathing-dress, darling."

In spite of the fact that I returned to the hotel and got it, they werepositively rude about the bathing-cove I selected.

"Bathe there?" sneered Berry, as we looked down upon it, all smiling inthe sun, from the top of the cliffs.

"Thanks awfully, I simply love the flints, don't you, Jill?Personally, my doctor bled me just before I came away. But don't letme stop you others. Lead on, brother—lead the way to the shambles!"

Of course, Daphne took up the running.

"My dear boy, look at the seaweed on the rocks! Why, we should slipand break our legs before we'd taken two steps!"

"That's all right," said Berry. "We have between us three shirts.Torn into strips, they will make excellent bandages, while for asplint—"

"The cove," I said, "is ideal. Its sand is a field of lilies, its seaperfumed, its boulders sweet-smelling cushions."

"Of course," said Berry. "Why do you tarry? Forward, friends all!This way to the drug department. To the lions, O Christians! Formyself, if I start at once, I shall be able to get back with thecoastguard's ambulance before you've been lying there more than an houror two, and I can wire for your relatives at the same time."

"Anybody would think the place was an oubliette," said I. "As a matterof fact, the path down is an easy one, there are no flints, and thereis a singular paucity of seaweed of any description. On the otherhand, the sun is hot, the sand is soft, and I have already selectedthat rock, in the seclusion of whose shade I shall prepare myself forthe waves. Sorry it's too dangerous for you. I'll write about somebathing-machines to-night. Do you like them with red or green doors?"

Without waiting for their reply, which would probably have been of thecaustic and provocative type, I turned down the path I had not troddenfor some three years. At one of the bends I looked up and saw themmoving north along the coast-line.

I had the cove to myself, and was soon in my bathing-dress. The waterwas magnificent. I swam out about forty yards, and turned just in timeto see Berry & Co. disappear in the distance, apparently descendinginto a neighbouring cove. After a rest on a rock, I set out to swimround and join them. It was further than I thought, and I was glad towade out of the water and lie down on the sand in the sun. No sign ofthe others, by the way. But hereabouts the coast was very ragged. Itmust have been the next cove they were making for.

"Quite still, please," said somebody, and the next moment a cameraclicked.

"You might have given me time to moisten the lips," said I.

"I doubt if it would have done any good."

"Thanks, very much. By the way, I suppose you're The Daily Glass? Howdid you find me out?"

"Rumour travels apace, sir."

"And I had been congratulating myself on eluding the Press sincebreakfast. Well, well! Only this morning—"

"Dry up!"

I apostrophized the sea.

"I don't want to have to report the chap," I said, "but if—"

The camera clicked again.

"I'm not sure this isn't an assault," I said. "That it is a trespass, Iknow. Who are your solicitors? And may I take it that they willaccept service?" (Here I rolled over and leaned on my elbow.) "You dolook fit. Just move your heel out of that pool—there's an anemonegoing to mistake it for a piece of alabaster. That's right! Oh, but,Mermaid, do tell me how you keep your hair so nice when you're bathing?"

"Like it?"

"I love it."

"I simply don't put my head under."

"A most dangerous practice, believe me."

"It's worth the risk."

"I belive it is."

She was sitting on a low slab of rock, clad in a bathing-costume ofplain dark blue, and fashioned just like my own. Her dark hair wasparted in the middle and divided at the back into two long, thickplaits which were turned up and hair-pinned round the top of her head.Her features were beautiful and her eyes big and dark as her hair. Herfigure was slim and graceful, and her arms and hands and feet were veryshapely. One brown knee was crossed over the other, and her left handheld the camera.

"I do have luck, you know," I said.

"What luck?"

"Well, honestly, it's a great pleasure to meet you like this, when Imight have spent all day talking with my silly crowd and never haveknown of your existence. Don't be afraid. I merely mean that I amenjoying your society, and I'm glad I came round the corner. I'm notin love with you, and I don't want never to leave your side again,but—oh, you understand, Mermaid, don't you? You look as if you couldif you liked."

My companion stared out to sea with a faint smile on her lips. I flungout an arm with a gesture of despair.

"Oh, if you knew how sick I am of the girl about town, the girl ofto-day, who won't be natural herself, and won't let you be naturaleither, who is always bored, and who has no use for anyone who isn'tforever making mock love to her, or—Why on earth can't a man tell awoman he likes her company, and mean it, without the woman thinking hewants to kiss her, or marry her, or something?"

I broke off and looked at her.

"Go on," she said. "You interest me."

"Oh, Heavens," I said falteringly. "Why have you got such big eyes?"

At this, to my discomfiture, she broke into peals of merriment.

"Before you looked at me like that, I was really enjoying your companywithout wanting to kiss you."

"Steady!"

"Besides your eyes, there's your—Look here, it isn't fair."

"That'll do. I'll race you to that rock out there."

She was in the water first, but I beat her easily. We swam backtogether, and she took her seat on the slab, while I stretched myselfon the sand by her side.

"You're a very singular man," she said after a while.

"I have been told so of many."

"And rather dull."

I sat up.

"Don't say you want me to make love to you!"

"Not much!" This emphatically.

"Ah, glad of a change, I suppose."

There was a silence, while she eyed me suspiciously. At length:

"I shall ask you to leave my cove if you're not careful," she said.

"Mermaid," I said, "I apologize. I was unaware that I had the honourto speak to the lady of the manor."

"Well, if you didn't really know who I was—— But you mustn't bedull."

I drew her attention to a sailing ship in the distance. "Now, that," Isaid, "is what I call a really good ship."

"Barque!"

"Barque, I mean. It must be—"

"About five thousand tons"

"Burthen. Exactly. By the way, I never know what that really meansunless it means that, if you wanted to lift it, you couldn't."

"Try displacement."

"Thank you. It was off just such an one that I was cast away two yearsago come Michaelmas. We were just standing by in the offing, when shesterruck with a grinding crash. There was a matter of seventy soulsaboard, and I shall never forget the look on the captain's face as theship's cat stole his place in the stern-sheets of the jolly-boat. Iwas thrown up on a desert island, I was. You ought to have seen memilking the goats on Spyglass Hill."

"Did you wear a goatskin cap?"

"Did I not! And two muskets. But my snake belt was the great thing.You see—"

"Which reminds me—I think it's about time I got civilized again."

"Not yet, Mermaid," I pleaded; "the sun is yet high."

"You don't suppose I'm going to stay here all day, do you? We're noton your precious island now."

"I only wish we were. I had my loaf of bread and jug of wine allright, but the one thing I wanted, Mermaid, was—"

"A woman to keep him company without thinking he wanted to kiss her, ormarry her, or something. Whatever's that?"

I jumped to my feet and looked towards where she was pointing.

"It looks rather like—forgive me—a chemise."

"Good Heavens!"

Before I had time to move, she rushed into the surf and secured thefloating garment, made another dart at something else, and was knockeddown by a roller. I had her on her feet in a moment, but she dashedthe water out of her eves and looked wildly to and fro over the sea.

"What is it, Mermaid?"

She tried to stamp her foot; but the four inches of water in which shewas standing were against her.

"Can't you see, idiot? This is mine—this chemise—so's this shoe.The tide's come up into my cave while I've been making a fool of myselftalking to you, and all my things are gone. There's the other shoe."

"All right—I'll get it."

I got it, and one stocking, but though I swam about till I was tired,and even climbed on to the rock, now almost submerged, to which we hadraced, I could see nothing else. I returned temporarily exhausted tothe cove. She waded out to meet me.

"Tell me exactly where your cave is," I said, as I handed her theflotsam.

She showed me, and, after a moment or two's rest, I swam out and roundto the mouth, only to find the water too high to enter. I did try, buta wave lifted me up to the roof, and I only saved a broken head at theexpense of a nasty cut on the back of my hand.

She was anxiously awaiting me, and listened to my report without aword. When I had finished, she deliberately wrung the last atom ofwater out of the derelict stocking, smoothed it out carefully by theside of the chemise in the sun, laid herself down on the sand, andburst into tears.

I tried to comfort her. I patted her shoulder and took her hand inmine.

"Don't worry, Mermaid dear," I said. "Trust me—I'll think ofsomething. I know. I'll swim round to my cove and dress, and then goand get you some fresh clothes before anyone's the wiser. See? I'llgo now," I added, getting up and licking the blood off my hand. "Youwait here and—"

I broke off abruptly, and one of the more violent expletives,indicative of combined horror and amazement, escaped my lips before Icould stop it.

"What is it?" wailed the Mermaid.

On the crest of a wave, some thirty yards from the shore, danced mygrey hat. Beyond it, a little to the right, was something which mightbe a shirt.

Stammering incoherent sentences, I staggered into the water and swamfor the hat. When I had caught it, I went on to get the shirt. Iwould have gone on round the headland to my cove, only the shirt wasnot my shirt. It was Berry's! Yes, it was—had his name on it andall. And not ten yards away floated Daphne's straw hat. For the nexttwo minutes I was in imminent danger of drowning. At last I began toswim feebly, blindly back. When I reached the shore, I fell on myknees in the surf and laughed till the eighth wave knocked me head overheels and the ninth broke into my open jaws and choked me. The nextmoment the girl caught me by the arm, and I stumbled out and lay downon the dry sand with the shirt clasped to my breast. My hat had goneagain ages ago. Then I looked at the girl kneeling anxiously by myside, and began to laugh again. She sat back on her heels, with onehand to her lips and a scared expression on her face.

"He's mad," she said, half to herself, "mad! Must have been stung by ajelly-fish or something. I've heard—"

I cut her short.

"Mermaid dear, I'm as sane as you are, only—"

"Only what?"

"Everybody's doing it"—she recoiled—"doing it! Listen to me. True,that is your chemise. True, that out there is my hat—there it is.But here is Berry's shirt, and miles out there is Daphne's straw hat.If I'd stayed long enough, I've no doubt I should have seen Jonah'strousers and Jill's chemisette, which means or mean—whichever youlike—that...."

Hurriedly I explained, and then fell again into uproarious laughter.This time she joined me in my mirth. At length:

"But, after all," she said, "it doesn't make it any better for me,because I'm all alone, while you're a party."

"I admit it has been said that Unity is Strength," said I, "but I don'tknow that that exactly applies—"

"And I can't walk home like this, even with that on." She indicatedthe chemise.

"Certainly not with that on: it'd only make it more indec—"

"More what?"

"Er—unusual. Indeed, it would."

She regarded me suspiciously. Then:

"What about you?"

"Me? How d'you mean?" I said uneasily.

"Well, couldn't you slip back to the hotel somehow? Quite quietly, Imean, and—"

"I could slip all right," said I. "The short grass on the top of thecliffs would help me there. But, my dear girl, how on earth can I doanything quietly in this dress?"

"Everybody will be—"

"Just finishing lunch or sitting on the terrace. Thanks very much."

"There's a back door."

"I never thought of that. Splendid! Leading to the kitchen, ofcourse. They'd never notice me there. And I could just drop in at theoffice for the key of my room, and see if there were any letters on theway up, and—— My dear girl, how can I? I admit I've a good deal ofnerve, but there is a limit. I know one can do most things nowadays,but—"

"But this is a special occasion."

"You seem to want to make it one."

"And it can't be helped. This sort of modesty's out of date."

"Not my date."

"Besides, everybody'd understand."

"I know they would. That's just what I'm afraid of."

"Well, we must do something, and if you—"

Suddenly there fell upon our ears the scrambling, clattering noisewhich invariably accompanies the descent of anybody rash enough toenter a Cornish cove with undue haste in leather-soled shoes. TheMermaid darted behind a rock, and I advanced gratefully up theforeshore to the fringe of stones. The noise grew louder, and theslips more frequent, until there was one long one, and then a thud. Uprose a fat oath. After a moment or two, there limped into sight—oh,blessed spectacle!—one of the hotel porters, conventionally hatlessand coatless.

"Ah!" said I.

"The coastguard you sent hailed me, sir, across the fields yonder.Said something had happened—he didn't know what—but he heard the word'hotel.' You see, you shouting to him from here, and he being up ontop, he couldn't hear anything else rightly, so I came straight down."

"Why didn't he come down himself when—er—when I shouted?"

"He was taking a telegram to the post office sir. Said he told you so;but I suppose you didn't hear."

Berry's coastguard. Berry's porter.

I told him that my clothes had been washed away, and that the mermaidwas in the same plight. I gave him implicit instructions and, with herassistance, the numbers of our respective rooms. He wrote it all down.He was to get some clothes for me himself, and enlist the services of achambermaid for my companion.

"Be as quick as you can," I said, as he turned to go. "You're sureyou'll know this cove again? They're all rather alike."

"That's all right, sir."

The next moment he was half-way up the path. If he had looked back, hewould have beheld the singular and doubtless pleasing spectacle of theMermaid and myself doing the real Argentine tango along the stretch ofyellow sand.

She did not see the blood on my hand for a minute or two. Then:

"My dear lad, what have you done to your hand?"

"Cut on the rocks," I said laconically. "Nothing of any consequence, Iassure you. I shall be able to proceed home."

"After attention. Let me look at it."

And so it came about that, when the boots returned, my left hand wasbound up with a strip of chemise, and the bandage was tied with thepale-pink ribbon that had lately lain upon the Mermaid's shoulder.

We received him delightedly. The Mermaid's garments had been placed bythe thoughtful chambermaid in a little dressing-case. Mine were tiedtogether with a piece of string, after the manner of costumes atNathan's. But they were all right.

The girl started to dress behind a rock, and I told the fellow to waitat the foot of the path. "I have reason," I said, "reason to believethat there are others even now in the same or self-same plight as thatin which you found us. Therefore remain within call. Don'tinvestigate for yourself. This is my show. But don't go."

He promised.

Half an hour later he was once more on his way to the hotel with a notefrom me for Daphne's maid, and the promise of half a sovereign, whilethe Mermaid and I stood at the top of the path which led down to thecove where the rest of my party were chafing in exasperatedidleness—with the exception of Berry, that is. Prior to our arrival,he had been hovering about on the top of the cliff, but the instant hedescried us, and while we were yet a great way off, he had retiredprecipitately, and was now busy rejoining the others with Agag's walkand a profusion of embryo profanity. He explained afterwards that ifhe had been wearing his own bathing-dress, instead of a green and redstriped one—his own was being mended—he should have remained, butthat he did not like to be seen wearing the colours of the RedruthRangers before he had been elected.

After waiting a minute or two to compose ourselves and settle finallyour plan of action, we followed gaily in Berry's wake.

I was just saying in a clear voice that, perhaps, it was rather soonafter lunch to bathe again, when we came upon them the other side of alarge rock. One and all they sprawled easily on the sand in the hotsunshine, as if care were a thing of the past—forgotten, never known.

This was no more than I had expected of them. All of us hate to becaught bending. Berry especially. That artist was busily fashioning aminiature rampart of sand. He looked up at my greeting, and rose tohis feet.

I introduced them all to the Mermaid.

"We made friends at lunch," I explained, "over the lobsters."

Jonah winced.

"And then, as we wanted a walk, we thought we'd come along to fetch youback to tea."

There was a polite murmur of appreciation.

"I must say," I went on, "it is glorious. I almost wish I'd given upmy lunch, too."

The Mermaid stiffened, but none of the others noticed the error.

I felt myself colouring like a fool.

"Aren't you going to bathe again?" said Berry.

There was the note of eagerness in his voice, and I saw a vision ofBerry in my clothes striding triumphantly homewards.

"I don't think so," I said carelessly. "Rather too soon after lunch.But I'm going to take off my coat and sit down in the sun."

After all, he couldn't do much with a coat.

The Mermaid was already seated between Daphne and Jill, talkingvivaciously. Jonah pretended to be asleep. After a furtive glance atthe top of the cliff, Berry resumed his building operations with awfuldeliberation.

After a while:

"Well, if you aren't going to bathe any more, aren't you going todress?" said I.

"And leave this beauty spot?" said Berry. "Shame, shame on you,brother! Go your ways if you will. 'Then wander forth the sons ofBelial.' You'll just be in time. But leave us here in peace. I havealmost evolved a post-futurist picture which will revolutionize theartistic world. I shall call it 'The Passing of a Bathe: a Fantasy.It will present to the minds of all who have not seen it, what theywould have rejected for lunch if they had. To get the true effect, noone must see it."

"But if some one does?"

"I shall have already left the country."

This was too much for Daphne, and she asked Jonah to come and help herto get some mussels. They walked away together.

"What on earth does she want mussels for?" said I.

"The garden paths," said Berry. "Our cobbles aren't wearing at allwell."

I turned to the Mermaid. She was chattering away to Jill, with herback towards me. Over her shoulder, Jill's grey eyes regarded mewistfully. I made a rapid calculation. Yes, the porter ought to havearrived by now. I had told him to keep out of sight till I called him.

I waited until Daphne and Jonah came strolling back empty-handed. Theyhad forgotten about the mussels. Daphne's brows were knitted, andJonah was looking ruefully at the sun. It was getting on for half-pastthree. One could guess that much.

I rose and picked up my coat. "I say, aren't you ever going to dressany more?" I said.

Daphne swallowed before replying, and with the tail of my eye I sawBerry start and wreck six inches of architecture. Then:

"Presently," said my big sister. "You two go on and order a big tea atthe farm, and by the time it's ready—"

"You can't have tea like that," I said. "There'll be a row."

In the dead silence that followed this remark, the Mermaid rose andbrushed the sand from her dress.

I went up to Daphne and kissed her.

"Don't think I'm not proud of you, darling, and Jill looks lovely, too,but they wouldn't stand it, you know."

No one stirred except the Mermaid, and she, obedient to theinstructions I had given her, strolled naturally enough towards thepath up the cliff. The other four were looking at me straitly—I couldfeel their gaze—wondering whether, whether I knew.

I shaded my eyes with my hand and stared seawards.

"Do dress," I said absently.

"We shall dress when we want to," said Daphne sharply.

I turned to see the Mermaiden reach the path. A good start iseverything.

"If you really mean that," I said slowly, "I'll send your otherclothes back again." Then I raised my voice:

"Porter!" I cried.

"Sir!" came from above us.

"Behold, now—"

I let the rest of the quotation go, as I wanted to rejoin the mermaid,looking as she had last seen me. Berry said afterwards that Jonahgained on me while the sand lasted, but the loose stones at the foot ofthe path were my salvation.

As I passed the porter, I told him to say that a square meal would beawaiting them at the farm. We ordered it generously enough, but,despite our hunger, the Mermaid and I decided to have our own tea atthe hotel. Thither we set out to walk through the fields. Suddenlyshe stopped as we were crossing a deep lane.

"I don't know why you're here," she said.

"Try and think, Mermaid."

"You'd better go and have another bathe."

"Now, Mermaid, you know—"

"Afterwards you'll be wishing you had given up your tea, if you don't."

"I knew we should have this," I said.

"Well, it wasn't very polite of you, was it?"

"It wouldn't have been."

"She eyed me scornfully for a moment. Then:

"I'm disappointed in you," she said.

"You'll be more so in a moment," said I.

"Why?"

"You're not going to have a change, after all."

"Don't say you're going to make—"

"Love to you? Yes, I am."

She looked me up and down for a moment.

"And this is the man," she said slowly—"this is the man"

"Who said he was not in love with you, and that he didn't want never toleave your side again. Yes, it is. I might have known better than tosay a thing like that. All the same, it wasn't meant for a challenge,Mermaiden."

She looked at me with a mischievous smile. "And now—"

I broke off and took her small, brown hand. Up went the dark eyebrows.

"I shouldn't like you to think that I thought you wanted to kiss me,"she said.

"I think nothing," said I. "But one thing I know."

"And that is?"

"That it would be a crime if I didn't. The very stones would cry out."

"I don't think they would."

"I'm afraid they might," said I.

CHAPTER III

WHEN IT WAS DARK

Daphne pointed suddenly to the stile. "This is it," she said. "We getover here and go across the meadow, and there's the wood beyond thegate that we've got to—to—what's the word?"

"Encompass?" I hazarded.

"Skirt?" said Jonah.

"Skirt—thank you—till we come upon the carttrack."

"And then?" said I.

"Then we're all right," she said defiantly.

"Which means, that about two hours from now we shall, with a finedisregard for the highest traditions of British pugilism, strike thehigh road below the belt of firs, a good six miles from the roof-treewe should never have left. God forgive you."

"Am I," said Berry, "am I to understand in cold blood that, reckoningthree miles to the league, some four leagues lie directly between meand the muffins?"

"You are," said I.

"To think that my wife is a bag," he said wearily.

It was an autumn afternoon in the county of Devon. There were westaying at a retired farmhouse, fleeting the time carelessly, simply,healthily. Sickened by forty-eight hours of continuous rain, we hadfastened greedily upon the chance which a glorious October day atlength offered, and had set out, complete with sandwiches, for one ofthe longer walks. Daphne constituted herself guide. We never askedher to. But as such we just accepted her. We were quite passive inthe matter. Going, she had guided us with a careless confidence whichshamed suspicion. But coming back, she had early displayedunmistakable signs of hesitation and anxiety. Thereafter she hadplunged desperately, with the result that at three o'clock we foundourselves reduced to a swine-herd who had been drinking. The latterdetailed to us four several routes, and assured us that it was utterlyimpossible to miss any one of them.

To put it quite shortly, he was mistaken.

Within half an hour we had missed them all. Lost on a heath (which Ihave every reason to suppose was blasted) in a strange county, and nota soul in sight. That was the position.

We plodded in silence across the meadow.

"Didn't say anything about a bog, did he? said Berry, drawing his leftleg out of some mire with a noise that made me shudder. Jill slid awarm arm into mine, and broke into long laughter.

"Don't encourage the fool," said Daphne.

We skirted the wood successfully to find that there never could havebeen a cart-track.

Berry leaned against a wall of stones. "What a picture," he saidecstatically. "The setting sun, the little band, the matron and themaid, mist rising, shadows falling—subject for next year's Academy,'The Walkers.'"

"Idiot!" said Daphne shortly.

"Do I hear aright?" said Berry.

"I said 'idiot.'"

Berry covered his face with his hat, and begged us to excuse hisemotion. Daphne stamped her foot.

"I have an idea," said I.

"If it's one of your usual ones, we don't want it," said Daphne.

"Thank you, dear. We are undoubtedly lost. No, that is not my idea.But, as a would-have-been boy-scout, I recognize in this spot a naturalcamping-place. That water is close at hand, we know from Scout Berry.Jonah can take the first watch, Berry the second, Jonah the third,and—and so on. My own energy I shall reserve for the dog-watch."

"Oh, stop him, somebody," wailed Daphne.

"I said dog-watch, dear, not stop-watch. Before we bivouac I willscale yon beetling mount if peradventure I may perceive one that willpoint us homeward. Scout Berry!"

"Sir," said Berry.

"You know your duties!"

"I do that, sir."

"Tis well. If the worst comes to the worst, kill the women out ofhand, or with your own hand—I don't care which. Age before honesty,you know."

With that I left them, and turned to climb the hill which rose sharplyon our right, its side dotted with furze-bushes, and its crest hiddenby a clump of trees.

Five minutes later I was back among them again.

"Well," said Daphne eagerly, "you haven't been right to the top, haveyou?"

"Oh, no. I only came back to say that when I said 'Age before honesty'just now, I really meant 'Death before dishonour,' you know," and Iturned up the bank again.

I regret to say that Berry and Jonah thought it decent to attempt tostone my retreating figure. Ten minutes' walking brought me to aclearing on the top, which afforded a magnificent view. Hill and dale,woodland and pasture, stone wall and hedgerow, as far as I could see.The sinking sun was lighting gloriously the autumn livery of the woods,and, far in the distance, I could see the silver streak of the riverflowing to the village on whose skirts stood the house that was ourbourne. When I returned to the camp to find them gone I was ratherbored.

The note that they had left made it worse:

"Regret compelled retire owing to serious outflanking movement on partof the Blues. Sorry, but that's the worst of being picket. Thenatural intuition which characterizes all BSS will enable you todiscern our route. So long."

Although I tried four times—mainly because Jonah had my
matches—I was unable to discern their route. At last I came down toshouting, but only succeeded in arousing the curiosity of three cowsand a well-nourished ram. The latter was so well nourished that whenhe had stamped for the second time, I thought it prudent to get overthe wall. I did so with about four seconds to spare. Nothing daunted,the winning animal took a short run and butted the wall with surprisingvigour. When three large stones had fallen for seven runs, I offeredup a short prayer that Berry & Co. might return to look for me, andhastened to put two more walls between us. I suppose it was the riverthat I saw in the distance, from the summit of that fair hill...

Three and a half hours later I came upon the first signs of animal lifeas opposed to vegetable—since the ram. Up hill, down dale, alongroads, along imitation roads, along future roads, along past roads,across moors I had tramped doggedly, blindly, and rather angrily. If Ihad had one match—only one match—it would have been different.

Yes, it was a dog-cart. And through the gloom I could distinctly seethe shape of some one sitting in it, holding the reins.

I quickened my steps.

"I say, have you got a match?"

A girl's voice.

"That's about the worst thing you could have said." said I.

"Why?"

"Because a match is the one thing I've been wanting for the last fourhours."

"Sorry. Swear for me, will you?"

"Certainly, madam. What sort of an oath would you like? We have a verylarge assortment in stock—fresh lot in only this afternoon. Let mesee. Now, I've got a very nice thing in oaths—"

"I want a round one."

"Round? Certainly. And the usual black, I presume. We have beendoing rather a lot in the way of blue oaths lately. No? Damn. Howdo you like that, madam?"

"That'll do."

"Much obliged to you, madam. Sign, please. Nothing else I can showyou? Nothing in the curse line?"

"No, thanks. Good day."

There was a pause. Presently:

"I said 'good day,'" said the girl.

"Yes," said I; "but, then, we were only playing."

"Oh, were you?"

"Any way, you haven't paid yet," I said desperately.

"How much do you want? It was a very common oath."

"I've plenty more, if you like. For instance—"

"Hush! Not before the mare. What's your price?"

"The privilege of accompanying you on foot till we can get a light.You can't drive at more than a walking pace on this road without lamps.And it's not right for you to be alone."

"You are very good. But are you going my way?"

"I've not the faintest idea."

"Are you lost, then?"

"Hopelessly. Have been for hours."

"Where do you want to get to?"

"A farmhouse three miles out of Lorn."

"Which side of Lorn?"

"Well, if I'm the same side of Lorn as I was at one o'clock thisafternoon, it's the other side."

"Well, but aren't you?"

"My dear girl, I don't know."

She laughed. "Well, I'm going to Lorn, any way," she said, "so comealong."

"Heaven will reward you," said I, and climbed into the cart.

"You'd better drive."

I took the reins. We had to go very slowly, for it was one of theimitation roads, and when we were not scaling an ascent that positivelybeetled, we were going down a descent which I was glad it was too darkto see. After a minute or two, I took the near wheel eighteen inchesup the bank.

"Sorry," said the girl, as she disengaged herself from my neck and armsand resumed her seat, "but it was your fault for taking it up the bank."

"I know. I hope you weren't frightened. I'm awfully sorry."

"You drive rather well, considering."

"Steady the Buffs. Considering what?"

"Considering it's your first shot."

In silence I gave her the reins.

"After that," I said icily, "after that there is no more to be said.Was it for this that, at the age of four, I was borne by two reluctantgoats along the Hastings strand? Pardon me, those last six wordscomprise an iambic line—a fact which is itself the best evidence of myagitation. It is a little winning way I have. Most criminals whencharged make no reply. When I am arrested, I shall protest inanapaests. As I was saying, was it for this—?"

"Stop, stop," she said, laughing; "you drive all right—beautifully."

I took the reins again.

It was getting very cold, and I put the rug carefully about her.

"You're very good," she said, "but wait."

I felt her hand on my knee.

"Oh, you haven't got any of it."

She would have untucked it again if I hadn't caught her wrist.

"That's all right," I said. "I'm not allowed rugs."

"Nonsense."

"My dear, doctor's orders. The last thing the great Harley Streetspecialist said to me, as I pushed the two pounds two shillings beneaththe current number of The Lancet, was, 'Now, mind, no rugs. Eat anddrink what you like. Smoke in moderation, and get up as late as youplease. But no rugs.'"

As the wrist felt unconvinced, I slipped it through my arm, where itlay comfortably enough.

"Do you often do this sort of thing?" I said presently.

"Get late coming home and have no lights? Not often."

"I'm glad of that—I'm sure it's very dangerous. Good whips likemyself aren't as common as blackberries. And so few tramps one meetsnowadays can drive really well."

"I don't look as if I'd got any money, do I?"

"Well, you don't look anything just now, as it's too dark to see; butyou sound like a wrist-watch and a chain—purse."

"How did you know?"

"Intuition," I said carelessly. "You see I'm a boy-scout."

"Feel."

She laid a slim, warm wrist against my cheek. I distinctly felt thecold round glass of a wrist-watch.

"And I've got a chain-purse in my bag." "Ah!"

"Go on, boy-scout. Tell me what I look like in the daytime."

"You have ear-rings and your face is rather cold. About the kind ofear-rings I am not certain."

"How did you know that?"

"I found that out, when—er—when we went up the bank."

"Oh!"

"Yes," I went on hurriedly, "and—"

"Am I dark or fair?"

I looked hopelessly at where I knew my companion was sitting. Then:

"Dark," I said, after a minute. "Dark, with long eyelashes and twobrown eyes."

"Two!"

"Yes, I think so. You sound extravagant."

"Dimples?"

"I think not."

"Nose?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, please, teacher."

"Nonsense. What did you mean by 'yes'?"

"Sorry. I thought you were asking me if you'd got a nose, and I thinkyou have. That's all. Sorry if I'm wrong, but when you're in thedark—"

"Yes, but what sort of nose?"

Here I got the near wheel up the bank again with great effect. When wehad sorted ourselves:

"If you do that again," she said severely, "I'll leave you in theroad—"

"In the what?"

"In the road to find your own way home as best you can."

"You have a hard nose," I said doggedly. I was almost sure that theear-rings were pearl ear-rings.

There was a pause. The cold was making us silent. My fingers weregetting numbed, but I dared not chafe them. I was afraid of the rug.

"You're not doing much for your drive," she said presently. "Do saysomething."

"You want to converse?"

"Yes."

"Very well, then. I didn't see you at Blackpool this year."

"That's curious."

"Yes, isn't it? What's your recreation? Forgive my seeminginquisitiveness, but I've just joined the staff of Who's Who."

"What?"

"No, who?"

"Recreation?"

"Yes. Hobby, amusement. Don't you collect cats or keep stamps ormotor-boat or mountebank, I mean mountaineer, or anything?"

"No."

"Never mind. I expect you know Oldham rather well, don't you?"

"Not at all."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know it either, and I thought—"

"What?"

"Well, you know, we ought to know Oldham—one of us ought to. It was aUnionist gain last time."

"Are you a Unionist?"

"My dear, you see in me—at least you would see in me, if it were notso dark—a high Tory."

"I thought you were a boy-scout."

"The two are not incompatible. Did you see that thing in Ally Sloperlast week?"

"No, I didn't. Here's a gate."

I got down and opened it, and she drove carefully through.

It was the first of seven gates. By the time we had done six, I wasbecoming good at getting up and down, but rather tired. As I resumedmy seat for the sixth time, I sighed. For the sixth time she returnedme the reins.

"You don't take much care of your clothes, boy-scout," she said."Nearly all the men I know hitch up their trousers when they sit down."

"Perhaps they're sailors."

"No, they aren't."

"My dear girl, I don't know how you can see I don't, but I don'tbecause I haven't got any on. I mean, I'm wearing breeches."

"Would you hitch them up if you had got on trousers?"

"Let's see, to-day's Thursday. Yes, I should."

"Why do men always bother so about their knees?"

"Take care of the bags, and the coats will take care of themselves," Iobserved sententiously.

"But why—?"

Here we came upon the seventh gate.

I groaned.

"Six gates shalt thou labour, and do all that thou hast to do, but theseventh—"

"Out you get, boy-scout."

I laid a hand on my companion's shoulder. "Are you an enchantress?" Isaid. "At least, of course you are. But I mean, is this the way toyour castle, Circe? And am I going to be turned into a herd of swinepresently? They always have seven gates and a dense forest throughwhich I cut a path with my sword, which, by the way, I have left in thetool-shed, unless perchance, maiden, thou hast filched it from my sidethis last half-hour. Note the blank verse again. I may say I amlooking at you narrowly."

"Fret not for thy sword, Sir Scout." she replied, "neither flatterthyself that Circe wastes her spells on all who come her way. Thoseonly will she lure who—"

"I simply love your voice," I said.

"Get down and open the gate."

I did so, and climbed slowly back.

"It's all right," she said, "We haven't got much further to go."

"I'm sorry for that."

"Sorry?"

"Certainly. I've enjoyed this awfully. It's rather funny, isn't it?Our meeting in the dark like this and driving all these miles togetherand not being able to see each other once."

"Unique, I should think."

"Yes, it's rather like being in a cell next to some one and talking byrapping against the wall."

"Is it?"

"Yes, it reminds me awfully of my young days at Brixton."

"Were you at school there?"

"Yes, for five years, before I went to Dartmoor."

"Oh, were you at Dartmoor? I had a cousin there a year or two ago.But he's out now. His name was Taber."

"What! Not Billy Taber?"

"That's right."

"This is very strange, Circe."

"Yes, boy-scout. Round to the left here. That's right. Only threemore miles. This is Dilberry Farm."

"Dilberry! Why, that's—"

"Where you're staying?"

I gulped, and laid the whip over the mare's shoulders.

"No," I said doggedly, "it's not."

She laid two firm little hands on my left and pulled the mare up.

"Anything the matter?" said I.

"Say 'good-bye' like a good boy-scout and thank the kind lady forgiving you a lift, and then run along home," she said sweetly.

"What are we stopping for?" I said. "You can't get a good view fromhere to-day. It's too hazy."

"Go on."

"But, Circe—"

"Be quick. I'm awfully cold."

"Won't you come in and get warm before you go on, or borrow anotherrug, or—"

"No, thanks awfully, I must get home."

"Mayn't I see you there? I can easily walk back."

"No, thanks awfully, boy-scout."

"You mean it?"

"I do."

"I gave her the reins and got heavily out of the dog-cart. She movedon to the seat I had vacated and I put the rug carefully round herfeet. Suddenly I remembered.

"Stop," I said. "Let me get some matches. At least your lamps shallbe lighted."

Not a bit of it. Said she didn't want them lighted. Simply wouldn'thave it.

While I was speaking, my fingers had mechanically strayed to the ticketpocket of my coat, where I sometimes carry my matches loose.

"By George!" I said.

"What is it?"

"I've just found a bit of a match—with the head on."

"Oh, boy-scout, and you've had it all the time."

"Yes, but it wouldn't be enough to light the lamps with."

"Oh!"

"Not the lamps."

"What would it be enough for?"

"A face, Circe."

"Good-bye."

"Stop, Circe. Two faces."

"How?"

"Well, I'll strike it on the tire, and then hold it between us.

"All right."

"It'll only last a second—it's not a quarter of an inch long. You'llhave to bend down."

"Go on."

"Nerve yourself for the shock, Circe. Think you can stand it?"

"I'll try. Keep your back to the mare."

"Thank you."

I heard her lean over and struck the match on the tire, I raised itcautiously, sheltering it with my hands. Just as I was about to raisemy eyes:

"Thank you," she said, very softly, and blew it out.

I laid my hands on her shoulders.

"I won't say 'damn,'" I said. "I'll say 'good-bye' instead, like—likea good boy-scout."

"Say it then."

I said it.

"Oh, but that isn't—"

"Yes," I said. "It's a new rule."

When the clatter of the mare's hoofs had died away in the distance, Iwalked slowly up to the farm. I was quite sure about the ear-ringsthis time. At least, about the one in her left ear.

"Ah," said Daphne, as I entered the room, "where have you been all thistime?"

All things considered, I thought that was rather good.

"I don't think I've been into Cornwall," I said, "but I've done Devonpretty thoroughly."

"We went back for you."

"Ah!"

"Why do you say 'Ah!'?"

"Oh, I don't know. Didn't see anything of a ram, did you?" I addedcarelessly.

There was a pause.

"Not until after he'd seen Berry," said Jonah.

"Ah, where is Berry?"

"Upstairs," said Daphne.

"He did—er—see Berry then?"

"Yes."

"Er—how did he see him? I mean—hang it, I didn't bring the beastlyram there."

"You left him there," said Daphne.

"I know: but you can't pick up every tame ram you meet. Besides—"

"Tame!" said Jonah. "Good Lord!"

"He saw Berry, you say? Did he see him well?"

"I think he'd have seen him home, if it hadn't been for the brook."

"Courteous beast. He saw him as far as that, did he?"

"He saw him half-way across."

I regret to say I laughed so immoderately that I never noticed thatBerry had entered the room, until he clapped me on the shoulder.

"It was a neat revenge," said that gentleman; "very neat, my boy. Butyou deserve six months for it."

"Hang it," I said, "you seem to think I—"

"I should certainly have haunted you," said Berry.

Six weeks had sloped by.

The train ran slowly into the station. I got out. Then I rememberedmy umbrella and got back. Then I got out again. "Porter," I said.

The individual addressed turned round, and I saw it was thestation-master. For a few moments he regarded me with indignation,obviously wondering whether he would be exceeding his duty if heordered me to be flung to the engine. Two inspectors hovered longinglynear him. Then he said "Chut!" and turned away.

I fought my way the length of the platform to the vicinity of theluggage van. Four porters were standing looking moodily at the luggagealready upon the platform.

I touched one on the shoulder.

"Yes," I said, "it's a nice bit of luggage, isn't it?"

He said it was.

"Don't you think it's that dressing-case that does it? Lends an air ofdistinction to the rest. Bucks it all up, as it were, eh?"

Before he could reply:

"So you're down for the week-end too," said a voice I should haverecognized amid the hubbub of the heavenly choir. "Staying atWatereaton?"

It was she.

Such a pretty girl. Very fair, very blue eyes, a beautiful skin,and—yes, a dimple. She was wearing a long, fur coat, while a littleblack felt hat with a ghost of a brim leaned exquisitely over one ofthe blue eyes. Her hands were plunged into deep pockets, but a pair ofmost admirable legs more than made good the deficit.

I sighed.

"Disappointed?" she said.

"Not in you—you're beautiful. But in myself. Yes, I shall resign."

"Resign?"

"My scout-hood."

"You were wrong about my hair, but—"

"But what?"

"You knew me again, at any rate."

"But of course. You've the same voice and the same dear laugh,and—yes, you've got—"

"What?"

"The same ear-rings," said I.

CHAPTER IV

ADAM AND NEW YEAR'S EVE

Jonah rose, walked to the window, pulled the curtains aside, and peeredout into the darkness.

"What of the night?" said I.

"Doth the blizzard yet blizz?" said Berry.

"It doth," said Jonah.

"Good," said Berry. Then he turned to Daphne. "Darling, you have mywarmest Yuletide greetings and heartiest good wishes for a bright NewYear. Remember the old saying:

"You may have move pretentious wishes,
But more sincere you can't than this is."

"Do you believe it's going on like this?" said his wife.

"Dear heart—two words—my love for you is imperishable. If it wereleft at the goods station for a month during a tram strike, it would,unlike the sausages, emerge fresh and sweet as of yore. I mean it."

"Fool," said Daphne. "I meant the weather, as you know."

"A rebuff," said her husband. "Do I care? Never. Strike me in thewind, and I will offer you my second wind for another blow. I did notforget everything when I married you. But to the weather. Thisberlizzard—German—has its disadvantages. A little more, and weshan't be able to bathe to-morrow. Never mind. Think of the Yule log.Noel." Here he regarded his empty glass for a moment. "Woman, lo,your lord's beaker requires replenishing. I ought not to have to tellyou, really. However."

Daphne selected one of the harder chocolates, took careful aim, anddischarged it in the direction of her husband's face. It struck him onthe nose.

"Good shot," said I. "That entitles you to a vase. If you like, youcan have another two shots instead." "I'll take the vase," said mysister. "For all the area of the target, I mightn't hit it again."

"A few years ago," said Berry, "you would probably have been pressed todeath for this impious display. In consideration of your age, youmight instead have been sent to a turret."

"What's a turret?" said Jill.

"Old English for bathroom, dear, and kept there till you had worked themurder of Becket in tapestry and four acts. I shall be more merciful.When you can show me a representation of the man who drew Slipaway inthe Calcutta Sweep trying to believe that it wouldn't have won, even ifit hadn't been knocked down when it was leading by nineteen lengths—"

"Very brilliant," said Daphne, "but the point is, what are we going todo about to-morrow night?"

"If it goes on like this, we can't go."

"Oh, but we must," said Jill.

"My dear, I'm not going out in this sort of weather without Sjvensen,and he may be too busy to leave town. Besides, the blubber hasn't comeyet."

"Couldn't we get hold of Wenceslas?" said I. "He's getting fivemillion a week at the Palliseum. Makes footprints there twice daily inreal snow. The audience are invited to come and tread in them. Theydo, too, like anything. Happily, Wenceslas is famed for the size ofhis feet. But you can't expect a man to leave—"

"But it can't go on like this," said Daphne.

"My dear, English weather is like your dear self—capable of anything.Be thankful that we have only snow."

"If it occurred to it to rain icebergs, so that we were compelled willyor even nilly to give up sleeping out of doors, it would do so. Well,I'm tired. What about turning out, eh? Light the lanthorn, Jonah, andgive me my dressing-gown."

"If you want to make me really ill," said Daphne, "you'll go on talkingabout bathing and sleeping out of doors."

Berry laughed a fat laugh. "My dear," he explained, "I was onlyjoking."

We were all housed together in an old, old country inn, the inn ofFallow, which village lies sleeping at the foot of the Cotswold Hills.We knew the place well. Few stones of it had been set one upon theother less than three hundred years ago, and, summer and winter alike,it was a spot of great beauty comparatively little known, too, and farenough from London to escape most tourists. The inn itself hadsheltered Cromwell, and before his time better men than he had warmedthemselves at the great hearth round which we sat. For all that, hehad given his name to the panelled room. Our bedrooms were as old,low-pitched and full of beams. The stairs also were a great glory. Infact, the house was in its way unique. A discreet decorator, too, hadmade it comfortable. Save in the Cromwell room, electric light waseverywhere. And in the morning chambermaids led you by crookedpassages over uneven doors to white bathrooms. It was all right.

Hither we had come to spend Christmas and the New Year. By day wewalked for miles over the Cotswolds, or took the car and looked upfriends who were keeping Christmas in the country, not too many milesaway. The Dales of Stoy had been kind, and before the frost came I hadhad two days' hunting with the Heythrop. And to-morrow was New Year'sEve. Four miles the other side of the old market town of SteepleAbbas, and twenty-one miles from Pallow, stood Bill Manor, where theHathaways lived. This good man and his wife Milly were among ourgreatest friends, and they had wanted us to spend Christmas with them.Though we had not done so, we had motored over several times and theyhad lunched with us at Fallow only the day before. And for New Year'sEve the Hathaways had arranged a small but very special ball, to which,of course, we were bidden. Indeed, I think the ball was more for usthan for anyone else. Anyway, Jim and Milly said so. The idea wasthat we should come over in the car in time for dinner with thehouse-party, the ball would begin about ten, and when it was over, weshould return to Fallow in the ordinary way. Nobody had anticipatedsuch heavy weather.

And now it was a question whether we should be able to go. Also, if wewent, whether we should be able to get back. The dispute waxed.Daphne and Jill insisted that go we must, could, and should. I rathersupported them. Berry and Jonah opposed us; the latter quietly, as ishis wont, the former with a simple stream of provoking irony. Atlength:

"Very well, ghouls," said Berry, "have your most wicked way. Doubtlessthe good monks of the Hospice will find my corpse. I wish thedrinking-trough, which will be erected to my memory, to stand half-wayup St. James's Street. How strange it will sound in future."

"What'll sound?" said Jill. "The new Saint's Day, dear—Berrymas."

When order had been restored, Jonah suggested that we should adjournthe debate till the next morning, in case it stopped snowing during thenight. As it was nearly one, the idea seemed a good one, and we wentto bed.

The morning was bright and cloudless. The cold was intense, but thesun glorious, while the clear blue sky looked as if it had never heardof snow. In a word, the weather was now magnificent, and, but for thereal evidence Upon the country-side, no one would ever have believedsuch a cheery, good-natured fellow guilty of a raging blizzard. Butthe snow lay thick upon the ground, and it was freezing hard.

"We can get there all right," said Jonah, "but I don't see the carcoming back at four o'clock in the morning. No, thanks, I'Il havemarmalade."

"There's almost a full moon," said I.

"I know," said Berry, "but the banjo's being painted."

"We'd better stop at the inn at Steeple Abbas," said Jonah.

"If we can get as far as Steeple, we can make Fallow," said I."Remember, I'm driving."

"We are not likely to forget it, brother," said Berry. "If you knewthe difference between the petrol-tank and the gear-box—"

"But I do. Petrol in one, tools in the other. However."

"Jonah's right," said Daphne. "We'd better stop at Steeple."

"Not I." said I.

"Nor me," said Jill. "Boy and I'll come back to our dear Fallow andour nice big grate and our own beds."

"Good little girl," said I. Berry emptied his mouth and began torecite "Excelsior."

At twenty minutes past three the next morning I drove out of thecourtyard of 'The Three Bulls', Steeple Abbas. Alone, too, for it hadbegun to snow again, and although I was determined to sleep that night,or what remained of it, at Fallow, I would not take Jill with me forsuch an ugly run. As a matter of fact, I had started once with her inthe car, but before we had got clear of the town, I had turned aboutand driven her back to the inn. The people had evidently half expectedher back, for, as we stopped at the door, it was flung open and thelandlord stood ready to welcome her in. The next moment I was oncemore on my way. In spite of the weather, the car went well, and I hadsoon covered more than half the distance. I was just about to emergefrom a side-road on to the main highway, when a dark mass right on theopposite corner against the hedgerow attracted my attention. The nextsecond my head-lights showed what it was, and I slowed down. A greatlimousine, if you please, standing at an angle of twenty degrees, itsnear front wheel obviously well up the bank, and the whole car sunk ina drift of snow some four or five feet deep. All its lights were out,and fresh snow was beginning to gather on the top against the luggagerail.

I stopped, took out one of my side oil lamps, and, getting out of thecar, advanced to the edge of the drift, holding the light above myhead. The limousine was evidently a derelict.

"You look just like a picture I've seen somewhere," said a gentle voice.

"And you've got a voice just like a dream I've dreamed some time orother. Isn't that strange? And now, who, what, where, why, and howare you? Are you the goddess in the car, or the woman in the case?And may I wish you a very happy New Year? I said it first."

"Try the woman in the car."

"One moment," said I. "I know."

"What?"

"I know who you are. Just fancy."

"Who am I?

"Why, you're New Year's Eve."

A little laugh answered me.

"I know I've dreamed that laugh," said I. "However, where were we?Oh, I know. And your father, Christmas, has gone for help. If I knowanything, he won't be back again for ages. Seriously, how did whathappen?"

"Chauffeur took the turn rather late, and next moment we were up thebank and in this wretched drift. It wasn't altogether the man's fault.One of our head-lights wouldn't work, and you couldn't see the drifttill we were in it."

"He might have known better than to run so close to the hedge thesedays."

"He's paying for it, any way, poor man. He's got to walk till he findsa farm where they'll lend him horses to get the car out."

"Considering the hour and the climatic conditions, I don't suppose thefarmers will come running. I mean they'll wait to put some clothes on."

"Probably. Besides, he doesn't know the district, so he's up againstsomething this little night."

"Of all nights, too, Eve! But what about her, poor lass?"

"Oh, I'm all right."

"You must be. But don't you find it rather hot in there? Can I turnon the electric fan?"

"I've been making good resolutions to pass the time."

"Hurray! So've I. I'm going to give up ferns. And you can tell meyours as we go along."

"Go along?"

"Yes, my dear. Didn't I tell you I was a highwayman? I only left Yorktwo hours ago."

"Quick going."

"Yes, I came by the boat train, with Black Bess in a horse-box. Andnow I'm going to abduct you, Eve. Your soul's not your own when you'reup against High Toby. I have a pistol in my holster, a cloak on myback, and a price on my head. My enemies call me Red Nat, me friends—"

I paused.

"What do your friends call you?"

"Adam," said I. "Let's see. You'll have to get out on the near side,won't you? Wait a moment."

I plunged round the back of the car and opened the door. Certainly itwas terribly cold. While we had been talking, she had been leaningagainst the side of the tilted car, with her face close to the inch anda half of open window. Except for an occasional flash, which hadshowed where her eyes were, I had not seen her at all. Expectantly Iraised the lamp and peered into the limousine. Out of a huge fur rug asolitary eye regarded me steadily.

"Only one eye?" I said. "How sad. How did it happen?"

The solitary eye went out, and then reappeared with a fellow.

"You remind me of the North Foreland," said I. "That's an intermittentlight, isn't it? Two winks and a blink every ten seconds."

"I didn't wink." This in a plainly indignant, if muffled tone—toomuffled for me. So:

"I beg your pardon," said I. A little hand appeared and pulled the rugaway from a small white nose and a mouth whose lips were paler thanthey should be. But it was a dear mouth.

"I said I didn't wink."

"So you did. I don't mean you did, you know. I mean, I know you saidyou didn't. I'm not sure I've got it right now."

"Never mind. I've only one brain, and at this hour of night—"

"The vitality of the human frame is at its lowest ebb. Exactly.That's why you must let me get you out of this as quick as possible."

"Oh, but I don't think—I mean—"

"My dear Eve, I know you come of an old-fashioned family—look at yourfather—but Convention's going by the board to-night. I'm staying atan inn about nine miles away. We'll be there under the half-hour.There's supper and a fire waiting for us, Why, yes, and you can haveJill's room. Of course, there'll be a fire there, too, and everythingready. You see—"

Hurriedly I explained the situation. When I had finished:

"But what'll the inn people think?" she said, with big eyes.

"Oh, hang the inn people?"

"And supposing it got out?"

"I think the proceedings at the inquest would read worse, my dear. Getup and come along at once."

"Oh, but you know I can't."

"You must. I'm serious. You'll die if you stop here much longer, mydear child. Do you realize how cold it really is?"

A faint smile came over the gentle face, set in its frame of fur.

"Poor lass," I cried. "What a fool I am. Give me her hand, and I'Ilhelp her up."

"But what about Falcon?"

"The chauffeur?"

She nodded. I thought for a moment, then I looked for the companion.There, happily, were tablets and a pencil.

"We'll write him a note," said I. "Wait a minute."

With difficulty I scrawled a few words. Then:

"How will this do? Falcon, I have been found and taken to shelter. Ifpossible, bring the car to 'The Three Bulls,' Steeple Abbas, by noontomorrow. Will you sign it?"

I put the pencil into her hand and held the lamp for her to see. Shewrote quickly. When she had finished, I laid the tablets on the seat,where they must be seen at once. When I looked at her again, I saw shewas smiling.

"So there's something in the nickname, after all?"

"What nickname?" said I. "Red Nat?"

"No. 'Gentleman of the road,' Adam."

"Thank you, Eve. If I could feel my mouth, I'd kiss your hand forthat. As it is—"

I helped her to her feet and set the lamp on the front seat. Then Ibade her stand in the doorway while I wrapped the rug about her.

"I'm afraid I can't dig you a pathway, so I'm going to carry you to mycar. I used to be able to delve once—"

"When Who was a gentleman?"

"Exactly. And you span. But I'm out of practice now. Besides, I leftmy niblick in London. Come along. Don't be frightened if I slip. Ishan't go down. Yes, I'll come back for your dressing-case."

The next moment she was in my arms, and three minutes later we weremaking for Fallow at nearer thirty than twenty miles an hour.

As we ran into the village, I heard the church clock chime thehalf-hour. Half-past four. We had come well. A moment later I hadstopped at the old inn's door. Except for a flickering light, visiblebetween the curtains of the Cromwell room, the place was in darkness.I clambered stiffly out and felt for the key I had asked for. A Yalelock in the studded door! Never mind. This door is only areproduction. The original probably shuts off some pantry from someservants' hall in New York City. However. When I had switched on acourse of lights, I went back to the car and opened the door. Have Isaid that it was a cabriolet?

"Eve," said I. No answer, I took the lamp once more and flooded thecar with light. In the far corner, still wrapped in the rugs, my ladylay fast asleep. With some difficulty I got her into my arms. On thethreshold I met Thomas, our waiter. He had little on but a coat andtrousers, and there was slumber in his eyes.

"I didn't wait up, sir," he explained, "but, hearing the car, I justcome down to see you'd got everything. Miss Mansel asleep, sir?"

I stared at him for a moment and then looked down at the charge in myarms. A corner of the rug had fallen over her face. Thomas, naturallyenough, thought it was Jill.

"Er—yes," said I. "She's tired, you know. And you'd better not lether see you. She'll be awfully angry to think you got up for us. Youknow what she said."

Thomas laughed respectfully. I passed up the stairs, and he followed."I'll only open the door and see that the fire's all right, sir," hesaid. I placed my burden gently on the sofa, away from the light ofthe fire.

"You'll let me light the candles, sir?"

"Not a farthing dip, Thomas. Miss Mansel may wake any moment. You cancome and open the coach-house door, if you like."

"Very good, sir."

"You can get to it from the inside, can't you? Because you're not togo out of doors."

"Oh, yes, thank you, sir."

Two minutes later the car was in the garage, and Thomas and I weremaking our way back past the kitchens. Outside the Cromwell room Istopped.

"You may take Miss Mansel's dressing-case to her room and see to herfire, then you are to go back to bed."

"It won't take a minute to serve you, sir."

"Thomas, you are to do as I say. It was very good of you to come down.I'm much obliged. Good night."

"Good night, sir. Oh—"

"Yes?"

"I forgot to tell you, sir, there's a temporary maid will wait on MissMansel in the morning, sir. Susan's had to go away sudden. I thinkher father's ill, sir."

"I'm sorry for that. All right. I'Il tell Miss Mansel. Good night."

"Good night, sir."

As I closed the door of the Cromwell room:

"So I'm Miss Mansel," said Eve.

"Quite right, my dear," said I. "One of our party—my cousin, in fact.When did you wake?"

"Just as you were lifting me out of the car."

I took off my cap and shook its snow into the fire.

"I uncover," said I. "In other words, I take my hat off to you. Eve,you are an artist. I only wish I were."

"Why?"

"I'd paint you—here, now, just as you are."

"I know I look awful."

"You look perfectly sweet."

"I can't help it."

"I shouldn't try."

She did look wonderful. I had put her upon the sofa, but she had movedfrom there, and was sitting on the hearth in front of the great fire.Plainly she had kept her long grey fur coat on, when she had first satdown but now she had slipped out of it, and it lay all tumbled abouther on the rug. She was in evening dress, and might have returned, asI had, from a ball. All blue, it was, blue of a wonderfulshade—periwinkle, I think they call it, Her stockings wereflesh-coloured and her shoes of gold: these she had taken off, thebetter to warm her little shining feet. White arms propped her towardsthe fire, and she sat sideways, with one leg straight by the warm kerb,the other drawn up and bringing her dress tight and a little away froma silk knee. Her dark hair had worked loose under the weight of therug, and was lying thick about her smooth shoulders. Save in her face,she wore no jewels, but two great brown stars smiled at me from eitherside of a straight nose. The lips were red now, and her throat softand white as her shoulders. I gazed down at her.

"No jewels, you see, Adam," she said suddenly. "I'm afraid you'vestruck a loser this time. You'll have to stick to the Great NorthRoad in future."

"No jewels?" said I. "You have a wealth of hair, and what about thepearls behind your lips? They're worth a king's ransom."

"They're not made to take out, though, and there's no gold with them."

She put up the red mouth and showed two rows of teeth, white and even.

"Tempt me no more," said I. "Oh, Eve, you're just as bad as ever.After all this time, too. However. I hesitate to mention supper,because you look so lovely sitting there, but—"

She stretched out a warm hand, and I lifted her to her feet. For asecond I held the slight fingers.

"Tell me one thing," said I. "Is there anyone who doesn't love you?"

The fingers slipped away. "Yes, stacks of people. You wouldn't likeme a bit, only I'm not myself to-night. I'm just—just Eve. See? NewYear's Eve."

"Thomas thinks you're Jill—Miss Mansel."

"To him I am. To the temporary maid in the morning, too. As forbreakfast—oh, you and my high collar must get me through breakfast andout of here and over to Steeple Abbas somehow. Funny, your tellingFalcon to go to 'The Three Bulls.' It's where we were making for. I'dtaken a room there."

"By Jove," said I. "Then, when I went back with Jill, they thought itwas you arriving."

And I related what had occurred. When I had finished, she threw backher head and laughed.

"Then you're not a robber, after all, Adam?"

"Certainly not. But why?"

"I mean, assuming the exchange is a fair one."

"Fair?" said I. "It's exquisite. Why, just to look at you's as goodas a feast, and—"

"Which reminds me I'm awfully hungry. Oh, no, no, I didn't mean that,Adam, dear, I didn't really."

And my companion leaned against the chimney-piece, laughing helplessly.

"That's torn it," said I, laughing too.

"And now," said Eve, recovering, "take off your coat. You must be sotired."

I drew my pumps out of the great pockets, and threw the coat off me andacross the back of a chair. Then I kicked off my great high rubberboots, stepped into my pumps, and looked ruefully at my dress trousers.

"They're only a little creased," said the girl.

"You must forgive them," said I.

"Jill wouldn't have minded, would she?"

"Jill wouldn't have mattered."

"Nor does Eve. Remember my hair."

"I shall never forget it," said I. Then I picked up her little shoesand stooped to fit them on to their feet.

"You are looking after me nicely, Adam," she said, laying a hand on myshoulder to keep her balance. I straightened my back and looked at her.

"My dear," I said, "I—oh, heavens, let's see what we've got forsupper." And I turned hurriedly to the dishes in front of the fire.

When I looked round, she was lighting the candles.

"You mustn't go to bed at once," I said, pushing back my chair. "It'sbad for the digestion. Sit by the fire a little, as you did before.Wait a moment. I'll give you a cigarette."

I settled her amid cushions, put out the candles, and struck the redfire into flames.

"But where will you sit, Adam?"

"I shall lean elegantly against the chimney-piece and tell you a fairystory."

"I'm all for the story, but I think you'd better be a child and sit onthe hearthrug, too. There's plenty of room."

"A child," said I, sitting down by her side. "My dear, do you realizethat I'm as old as the Cotswold Hills."

"There now, Adam. And so am I."

"No," I said firmly, "certainly not."

"But—"

"I don't care. You're not. Goddesses are immortal and their youthdies not."

"I suppose I ought to get up and curtsey."

"If you do, I shall have to rise and make you a leg, so please don't."

For a moment she smiled into the fire. Then:

"I wonder if two people have ever sat here before, as we're sittingnow?"

"Many a time," said I. "Runaway couples, you know. I expect the oldwood walls think we're another pair."

"They can't see, though."

"No. Born blind. That's why they hear so well. And they neverforget. These four"—with a sweep of my cigarette—"have long memoriesof things, some sweet, some stern, some full of tears, and some againso mirthful that they split their panelled sides with merrimentwhenever they call them to mind."

"And here's another to make them smile."

"Smile? Yes. Wise, whimsical, fatherly smiles, especially wise. Theythink we're lovers, remember."

"I forgot. Well, the sooner they find out their mis—"

"Hush!" said I. "Walls love lovers. Have pity and don't undeceivethem. It'd break the poor old fellows' hearts. That one's lookingrather black already.

"She laughed in spite of herself. Then:

"But they haven't got any hearts to break."

"Of course they have. The best in the world, too. Hearts of oak. Nowyou must make up for it. Come along." I altered my tone. "Chaste andbeautiful one, dost thou realize that at this rate we shall reachGretna next Tuesday week?"

"So soon, Jack?"—languishingly.

"Glorious," said I: "that is, aye, mistress. Remember, I have sixspare axles disguised as golf clubs."

"But what of my father? His grey hairs—"

"When I last saw thine aged sire, pipkin, three postboys were engagedin sawing him out of a window, through which he should never haveattempted to climb. The angle of his chaise suggested that one of thehind wheels was, to put it mildly, somewhat out of the true. The factthat, before we started, I myself withdrew its linchpin goes to supportthis theory."

"My poor father! Master Adam, I almost find it in my heart to hateyou."

"Believe me, fair but haughty, the old fool has taken no hurt. Distantas we were, I could hear his oaths of encouragement, while thepost-boys sawed as they had never sawed before. From the way they weredoing it, I shouldn't think they ever had."

"But they will soon procure a new linchpin. Is that right? And, oh,Adam, they may be here any moment."

"Not so, my poppet. To get a linchpin, they must find a smith. Allthe smiths within a radius of thirty miles are drunk. Yes, me again.A man has to think of all these little things. I say, we're giving thewalls the time of their life, aren't we? Have another cigarette?"

"After which I must go to bed."

"As you please, Mistress Eve," said I, reaching for a live coal to giveher a light.

For a little space we sat silent, watching the play of the flames.Then she spoke slowly, half her thoughts elsewhere:

"You never told me your fairy tale, Adam."

"I expect you know it," said I. "It's all about the princess a fellowfound in the snow, and how he took her to his home for shelter, and sether on her way in the morning, and then spent his poor life trying tofind her again. Anyway, one doesn't tell fairy-tales to fairies,and—and I'd rather you watched the fire. He'll tell you a finer storythan ever I could. At least—"

"Yes?"

"Well, he's a bold fellow, the fire. He'll say things that I can't,Eve. He'll praise, thank, bless you all in a flash. See what he saysfor a moment. Remember he's speaking for me."

"Praise, thank, bless," she repeated dreamily. "Does he ever askanything in return?"

"Never," said I.

For a full moment she sat gazing into the flames. Then she flung hercigarette into the grate and jumped to her feet before I had time tohelp her.

"Bed-time," she cried. "Mine, at any rate.

"I'll see you to your room," said I, lighting one of the candles. ThenI picked up her grey fur coat and laid it over my arm.

"Adam," said Eve.

I looked up and across at her, standing straight by the other side ofthe hearth, the leaping flames lighting her tumbled hair. One foot wason the kerb, and her left hand hitching her dress in the front alittle, as women do. The other she held, palm downwards to the blaze,warming it. I marked the red glow between its slight fingers, makingthem rosy. Her eyes still gazed into the fire.

"Yes," said I.

"If Jill were here, Adam, would you kiss her good night?"

The next morning, with the help of the high collar and a littlestrategy, my companion's incognito was preserved, and by half-pasteleven we had breakfasted and were once more in the car. It wasanother brilliant day, and at five minutes past twelve we ran intoSteeple Abbas. Eve was sitting in front by my side this time. As weturned into the main street, I slowed down. Outside 'The Three Bulls'stood the limousine, weather-beaten a little and its nickel work dull,but seemingly all right. In the middle of the road stood a chauffeur,his cap pushed back and a hand to his head. As we approached, helooked away from the little writing-block and stared up at thesignboard of the inn. When he heard the car approaching, he made forthe pavement, turning a puzzled face in our direction. At that momentI heard Jill's voice.

"Berry, Berry, I can hear a car coming. I expect it's Boy."

There was not a moment to lose. Quick as a flash I drew alongside thelimousine, which stood on our left between us and the hotel. Then Istopped, stood up, leaned across my companion and opened the big car'sdoor.

"Good-bye, dear," I said.

The next moment she had changed cars. To thrust her rug anddressing-case after her was the work of a second. For a moment I heldher hand to my lips. Then I shut the door, slipped back into my seat,and drove on and in to the kerb. As I pulled up, Jill came runningdown the steps of the inn.

"Then you got home all right, Boy?"

Before I had time to answer, Berry appeared in the doorway. "Aha,"said he, "the brave's return! Skaul! You are late, but never mind.Skaul again, my pathfinder. I thought of you when I was going to bed.Was the snow-hut comfortable? I hope you didn't find that coat toomuch? It isn't really cold, you know. Now, when I was in Patagonia—"

"Are you all ready?" said I. "I'm just coming in to warm my hands." Ifollowed Jill up the steps. In the doorway I turned and took off myhat. The chauffeur was starting up the limousine. And Eve was leaningforward, looking out of the open window. As I smiled, she kissed herhand to me.

Ten minutes later we left 'The Three Bulls.' I had thrown my gauntletson to the front seat before I entered the inn. As I drew on the rightone, I felt a sheet of paper in its cuff. I plucked it out, wondering.It had been torn from the writing-block, and bore the message I hadwritten for Falcon the night before. The signature was Evelyn Fairie,and underneath had been added, "Castle Charing, Somerset. With mylove."

I slipped it into my pocket and started the car.

"And how did Jilly get on?" I said abstractedly, as we rolled down thestreet.

"Oh, Boy," she cried, "it was so funny. I'm sure they took me forsomebody else. There was a lovely big room all ready and everybodykept bowing and calling me 'my lady.' They couldn't understand myconnection with the others at first and when they asked about the car,and I said it had gone back to Fallow, they nearly fainted. They weregoing to make out my bill separately, too, only Berry—"

"And you didn't enlighten them?"

"I couldn't make out what was wrong till I was undressing."

"And the real one never turned up?"

"I don't think she can have. The landlord stammered something about'your ladyship,' as I said 'Good-bye.'"

"How strange," said I. Jill chattered on all the way to Fallow.Fortunately I remembered to tell her about the new chambermaid. I wasrather uneasy about the girl, as a matter of fact. She must have seenEve properly. But my luck was holding, for on our arrival we foundthat Susan had returned.

The following day, January the second, after breakfast, a wire forJonah arrived. When he had read it:

"That's curious," he said. "I wonder how he knew we were here?"

"Who's it from?" said Jill.

"Harry Fairie, the man I met at Pau last Easter. Wants us to go overto his place in Somerset before we go back to town."

"All of us?"

"Apparently. 'You and party,' the wire says."

"I believe I met his sister once," said I.

"You wouldn't forget her if you had," said Jonah. "She's a wonderfulcreature. Eyes like stars."

"Where did you meet her?" said Daphne.

"I seem to associate her with winter sports."

"Switzerland?" said my sister. "What year? Nineteen-twelve?"

I walked to the door and opened it. "If I told you," I said, "youwouldn't believe me." Then I went out.

CHAPTER V

THE JUDGEMENT OF PARIS

"I suppose," said Daphne. "I suppose you think you're funny."

Her husband regarded his cigarette with a frown. "Not at all," hereplied. "Only there's nothing doing. That's all. My mind is madeup. This correspondence must now cease. For myself, as bread-winnerand—"

"Never did a day's work in your life," said Jonah.

"And one of the world's workers (so you're wrong, you see)—"

"Of course he's going," said I, looking up. "Only what as?"

"Why not himself?" said Jill.

"M, no," said I. "We must find something out of the common. Amountebank's too ordinary. I want our party to be one of the featuresof the ball."

"Would it be asking you too much to shut your face?" said Berry."Nobody spoke to you. Nobody wants to speak to you. I will gofurther. Nobody—"

"Could he go as a cook, d'you think?" said Daphne. "A chef-thing, Imean. They had cooks, of course. Or a wine-butler? They must havehad—"

"Or a birthright?" said Berry. "We know they had birthrights. And I'dsooner be a birthright than a wine-cooler any day. Besides, Jonahcould go as a mess of pottage. There's an idea for you. Talk aboutoriginality!"

"Originality!" said his wife contemptuously. "Studied imbecility, youmean. Anyone can originate drivel."

"It's in the blood," said Jonah. "One of his uncles was a Master inLunacy."

I laid down my pen and leaned back in my chair.

"It comes to this," said I. "Whatever he goes as, he'll play the fool.Am I right, sir?"

"Yes," said every one.

"(A voice, 'Shame')," said Berry.

"Consequently he must be given a part which he can clown withoutqueering the whole scene."

"Exactly," said Daphne.

"What d'you mean, talking about parts and scenes?" said Berry. "Ithought it was going to be a ball."

"So it is," said his wife. "But people are taking parties, and everyparty's going to represent some tale or picture or play or a bit of it.I've told you all this once."

"Twice," corrected her husband. "Once last night with eclat, and oncethis morning with your mouth full, Jilly's told me three times, and theothers once each. That's seven altogether. Eight, with this. I'mbeginning to get the hang of the thing. Tell me again."

His voice subsided into the incoherent muttering, which immediatelyprecedes slumber. This was too much. In silence Jonah handed Daphnehis cigarette. By stretching out an arm, as she lay on the sofa, mysister was just able to apply the burning tobacco to the lobe of herhusband's ear. With a yell the latter flung his feet from theclub-kerb and sat up in his chair. When he turned, Jonah was placidlysmoking in the distance, while Daphne met her victim's accusing eyewith a disdainful stare, her hands empty in her lap. The table, atwhich I was writing, shook with Jill's suppressed merriment.

"The stake's upstairs," said Berry bitterly. "Or would you rathergouge out my eyes? Will you flay me alive? Because if so, I'll go andget the knives and things. What about after tea? Or would you ratherget it over?"

"You shouldn't be so tiresome," said Daphne. Berry shook his headsorrowfully.

"Listen," he said. "The noise you hear is not the bath running away.No, no. My heart is bleeding, sister."

"Better sear that, too," said his wife, reaching for Jonah's cigarette.

It was just then that my eyes, wandering round the library, lighted ona copy of "Don Quixote." "The very thing," said I suddenly.

"What?" said Jill.

"Berry can go as Sancho Panza."

The others stared at me. Berry turned to his wife.

"You and Jill run along, dear, and pad the boxroom. Jonah and I'llhumour him till you're ready."

"Sancho Panza?" said Daphne. "But we're going to do The Caliph'sWedding out of the Arabian Nights."

"Let's drop the Eastern touch," I said, getting up from the table."It's sure to be overdone. Give them a page of Cervantes instead.Jonah can be Don Quixote. You'll make a priceless Dorothea in boy'sclothes, with your hair down your back. Jilly can be—— Wait aminute."

I stepped to the shelf and picked out the old quarto. After a moment'ssearch:

"Here you are," said I. "Daughter of Don Diego. Sancho Panza strikesher when he's going the rounds at night. 'She was beautiful as athousand pearls, with her hair inclosed under a net of gold and greensilk.' And I can be the Squire of the Wood, complete with false nose."

"I rather like the idea," said Daphne, "only—"

"Wait till I find the description of Dorothea," said I, turning overthe pages. "Here it is. Read that, my dear," and I handed her thebook.

In silence my sister read the famous lines. Then she laid the bookdown, and slipped an arm round my neck.

"Boy," she said, "you flatter me, but I can sit on my hair."

Then and there it was decided to illustrate Cervantes.

"And Sancho can wear his governor's dress," said Jill.

"Quarter of an hour back," said Berry, "-I told you that it was nogood ordering the wild horses, because nothing would induce me to go.Since then my left ear has been burned, as with a hot iron. Under thecircumstances it is hardly likely that—"

"Oh dear," said Daphne wearily.

I reached for the telephone and picked up the receiver.

"Number, please."

"Exchange," I said, "there is here a fat swab."

"What?"

"Swab," said I. "I'll spell it. S for soldier, W, A for apple, B forBaldwin."

"Have you a complaint to make?"

"That's it," said I:

"About this swab. You see, he won't go to the ball. His ticket hasbeen bought, his role chosen, his face passed over. And yet—"

"Mayfair supervisor," said a voice.

"That's done it," said I.

"I mean—er—Supervisor."

"Speaking."

"I want to complain about our swab here."

"Oh yes. Can you tell me what's wrong with it?"

"I think its liver must be out of order."

"Very well. I'll report it to the engineers. They'll send a man downto-morrow."

"Thanks awfully."

"Good-bye."

I replaced the receiver and crossed to where Berry was sitting, nursinghis wounded ear.

"They're going to report you to the engineers," I said shortly. "A manwill be down to-morrow."

"As for you," said my brother-in-law, "I take it your solicitors willaccept service. For the others, what shall I say? Just because Ihesitate to put off my mantle of dignity and abase this noble intellectby associating with a herd of revellers and—er—"

"Libertines?" said Jonah.

"Toss-pots, my ears are to be burned and foul aspersions cast upon aliver, till then spotless. Am I discouraged? No. Emboldened rather.In short, I will attend the rout."

"At last," sighed Daphne.

"My dear. I ordered the supper yesterday. We're sharing a table withthe Scarlets. But you needn't have burned my ear."

"Only means some one was talking about you," said Daphne. "Why did yousay you weren't going?"

"A passion for perversity," said I.

Berry stole a cautious glance at the time. The hands stood at aquarter past three. A slow grin spread over his countenance.

"Didn't you say something about a sacred concert?" he said. "GoodHeavens," cried Daphne, jumping up. "I forgot all about it. It beginsat thr—"

Arrested by her husband's seraphic smile, she swung round and looked atthe clock.

Berry apostrophized the carpet.

"Sweet are the uses of perversity," he said, with inimitableinflection. For a moment his wife eyed him, speechless withinindignation. Then:

"I hope you've got ear-ache," she said.

Berry settled himself among the cushions.

"I have," he said, "But back-ache would have been worse."

I sank back in my seat with an injured air. The coach swayed slightly,as it rattled over the points. The train was gathering speed. In thefar corner of the compartment the brooch of a gay green hat winked atme over the top of The Daily Glass.

"That's a nice thing," said I.

"What?" said the girl, laying down her paper.

"Oh, nothing. Only the train's run through the station I was going toget out at. That's all."

"How tiresome for you!"

"There are consolations. You would never have opened your small redmouth, but for my exclamation. And I should never have exclaimed, butfor—"

"It's very rude to make personal remarks." This severely.

"Only when the person's plain or the remark rude. Note thealliteration."

"What are you going to do?

"Obey orders, I suppose." said I, pointing to the door.

"'Wait until the train stops?'"

"I think so," said I, looking at the flashing hedgerows.

"You see, I've given up acting for the pictures. Otherwise, I shouldadjust my handcuffs, run along the foot-board, and dive in thedirection of the nearest pond."

"While I—?"

"Lay perfectly still. You see, I should be carrying you in my teeth."

"Thanks awfully."

"Not at all. It's a great life."

"It's a rotten death."

"Possibly. Otherwise, you emerge from the infirmary to find that AJump for Life has already left the Edgware Road for Reading and iseagerly expected at Stockton-on-Tees, that the company for which youwork is paying twenty-seven percent and that rehearsals for Kicked toDeath begin on Monday. However."

I stopped. The girl was leaning back in her corner, laughinghelplessly.

"It's all very fine to laugh," said I. "How would you like to becarried a county and a half beyond your station?"

"You should have asked before you got in."

"Asked?" said I. "The only person I didn't ask was the trafficsuperintendent himself. They said he was away on his holiday."

"They can't have understood what you said."

"I admit my articulation is defective—has been ever since a fellowbacked into my car at Brooklands, did it twenty pounds' worth ofdamage, and then sent in a bill for a new tail-lamp. At the sametime—"

Here another station roared by. I was too late to see the name. "Ishall swear in a minute," said I. "I can feel it coming. I suppose wedo stop somewhere, if only to coal, don't we?"

"Well, we may stop before, but I know we stop at Friars Rory, becausethat's where I get out."

I turned to her open-mouthed. She was consulting a wrist-watch and didnot see the look on my face. Friars Rory was where I was bound for.We had run through the station ten minutes ago. I knew the place well.I had just time to recover, when she looked up.

"We're late now," she said. "I expect that's why we're going so fast."

"You know," I said, "I don't believe you asked either."

"If this was the right train? Well, I've used it, going down to hunt,for two seasons. Besides, I told a porter—"

"Can't have understood what you said," said I, producing mycigarette-case. "Will you smoke? There's plenty of time."

"What d'you mean?"

"I was going to Rory, too. My dear, if this train really stops there,there must be the very deuce of a hairpin corner coming, or else we'reon the Inner Circle. We've passed it once, you know, about nine milesback, I should think. No, twelve. This is Shy Junction." We roaredbetween the platforms. "Wonderful how they put these engines along,isn't it?"

But my companion was staring out of the window. The next moment sheswung round and looked at me wildly. Gravely I offered her acigarette. She waved me away impatiently.

"Have we really passed Rory?" she said.

"Ages ago," said I. "Your porter can't possibly have under—"

She stamped a small foot, bright in its patent-leather shoe.

"Aren't you going to do anything?" she demanded.

"I am already composing a letter to the absent traffic superintendentwhich will spoil his holiday. I shall say that, in spite of the factthat the dark lady with the eyes and the seal-skin coat asked theporter with the nose—"

"Idiot. Can't you do anything now?"

"I can wave to the engine-driver as we go round a bend if you thinkit's any good, or, of course, there's always the communication cord,only—"

I broke off and looked at her. There was trouble in her great eyes.The small foot tapped the floor nervously. One gloved hand gripped thearm of her seat. I could have sworn the red lips quivered a momentago. I leaned forward.

"Lass," I said, "is it important that you should be at Friars Rory thismorning?"

She looked up quickly. Then, with a half-laugh, "I did want torather," she said. "But it can't be helped. You see, my mare, DearOne—she's been taken ill, and—and—oh, I am a fool," she said,turning away, her big eyes full of tears.

"No, you're not," said I sturdily, patting her hand.

"I know what it is to have a sick horse. Buck up, lass! We'll bethere within the hour."

"What d'you mean?" she said, feeling in her bag for a handkerchief.

"I have a plan," said I mysteriously. "Can't you find it?"

She felt in the pocket of her coat and turned to the bag again.

"I'm afraid my maid must have—"

I took a spare handkerchief from my breast-pocket.

"Would you care to honour me by using this to—er—"

"Go on," she said, taking it with a smile.

"To brush away some of the prettiest tears—"

She laughed exquisitely, put the handkerchief to her eyes, and thensmiled her thanks over the white cambric. I let down the windownearest me and put out my head. A long look assured me that we werenearing Ringley. My idea was to pull the cord, stop the train in thestation, pay the fine, and raise a car in the town, which should bringus to Rory in forty minutes by road.

"But what are you going to do?" said the girl.

"Wait," said I over my shoulder. Again I put out my head. In thedistance I could see red houses—Ringley. I put up my right hand andfelt for the chain. As I did so, there seemed to be less weigh on thetrain—a strange feeling. I hesitated, the wind flying in my face. Wewere not going so fast—so evenly. Yet, if we had run through ShyJunction, surely we were not going to stop at—— The next moment Isaw what it was. We were the last coach, and there was a gap, wideningslowly, between us and the rest of the train. We had been slipped. Itook in my head to find my companion clasping my arm and crying.

"No, no. You mustn't, you mustn't. You're awfully good, but—"

"It's all right," I said. "I didn't have to. We're in the Ringleyslip."

"And we're going to stop there?"

"Probably with an unconscionable jerk—a proper full stop. None ofyour commas for a slip. But there! I might have known. It's a longtrain that breaks no journey, and there's many a slip 'twixt Town andthe North of England. However. If there isn't a train back soon, I'mgoing to charter a car. May I have the honour of driving you back toRory and the mare? I'm sure the sight of her mistress will put her onher legs again quicker than all the slings and mashes of outrageoussurgeons. I take it you know your Macbeth?"

She laughed merrily. I looked at her appreciatively, sitting oppositeand perched, as I was, on one of the compartment's dividing arms.

"Sunshine after rain," I murmured. Sweet she looked in her gay greenhat and her long seal-skin coat. Beneath this, the green of a skirtabove the slim silk stockings and the bright shoes. Gloves and bag onthe seat by her side. The face was eager, clear-cut, its featuresregular. But only the great eyes mattered. Perhaps, also, the mouth—

"You're a kind man," she said slowly. "And it was sweet of you tothink of pulling the cord. But I should have been awfully upset, ifyou had."

The coach ran alongside of the platform and stopped with a jerk thatflung me backwards and my lady on to my chest. I sat up with my armsfull of fur-coat, while its owner struggled to regain her feet.

"Infants in arms need not be paid for," said I, setting her uprightwith a smile. "I hope the station-master saw you, or he mightn'tbelieve—— Where were we? Oh, I know. You'd have been upset, wouldyou? More upset than this?"

"Oh, much," she said, her eyebrows raised above a faint smile. "Yousee, then I should have been upset properly."

As she spoke, she laid a hand on my shoulder, to steady herself, whileshe peered into the mirror above my head. I looked round and up at thesmiling face, six inches away.

"Then I wish I had," said I. One hand was settling her plumed hat.Without looking down, she set the other firmly upon my chin, and turnedmy face round and away.

"Open the door and hand me out nicely," she said.

I rose and put on my hat.

"Do you ever play the piano?" I said suddenly.

"Why?"

"I was thinking of the fingers. You have such an exquisite touch."

The evident pleasure the chestnut mare evinced at her mistress'sarrival was a real tribute to personality. Also the vet's morningreport was more satisfactory. It seemed that Dear One was mending.Greatly comforted, my lady let me give her lunch at the Duck Inn.Afterwards—there being no train till four o'clock—she came with me tochoose a spaniel pup. It was to purchase him that I had started forFriars Rory that sunshiny day.

"What shall you call him?" she said, as we made our way to thekennels. "I really don't know," said I. "What about Seal-skin? Mustbe something in memory of to-day."

She laughed merrily. Then:

"Why not Non-Stop?"

"I know," I said. "I'll call him Upset."

Three black and white urchins gambolled about us, flapping ears,wagging ridiculous tails, uncertainly stumbling about upon baby legs.

"Oh, you darlings," said the girl, stooping among them, caressing, inturn caressed. She raised a radiant face to me.

"However will you choose which you'll have?"

I leaned against the wall and regarded the scene before me.

"I like the big one best," I said.

"The big one?" she said, standing up. "Aren't they all the same—"

"The one on its hind legs," said I. "With the big eyes."

"Ah," she said, smiling. "But that's not for sale, I'm afraid.Besides, its temper's very uncertain, as you know."

"I'd risk that. The spaniel is renowned for its affectionatedisposition. And what dog wouldn't turn, if it was put in the wrongtrain? Besides, your coat's so silky."

"But I'm sure my ears don't droop, and I've never had distemper. Thenthere's my pedigree. You don't know—"

"Don't I? By A Long Chalk, out of The Common's good enough for mostpeople."

"Oh, you are hopeless!" she said, laughing. She turned to thescrambling pups. "Who's for a mad master?" she said.

Suddenly a bulldog appeared. She stood regarding us for a moment, hermassive head a little on one side. Then a great smile spread over hercountenance, and she started to sway in our direction, wagging agreeting with her hind quarters, as bulldogs do. Two of the puppiesloped off to meet her. The long-suffering way in which she permittedthem to mouth her argued that she was accustomed to being the kindlybutt of their exuberance. The third turned to follow his fellows,hesitated, caught my lady's eye, and rushed back to his new-foundfriend.

"That's the one for me," said I. "Give me good judgment. I shall callhim Paris."

"Appropriately. Off with the old love and on with the new. I'm surehe's faithless, and I expect the bulldog's been awfully kind to him,haven't you, dear?" She patted the snuffling beauty. "Besides, Igave him the glad eye, which wasn't fair."

"I'll bet that's how Venus got the apple, if the truth were known. Anyway, I'm going to choose him for choosing you. You see. We shall geton well."

"Juno, Juno!" cried a woman's voice from the house. Immediately thebulldog started and turned towards the doorway.

"What did I say?" said I. "Something seemed to tell me you were agoddess, when—"

"When?"

"When you were upset this morning. I saw you very close then, you see.Well! What sort of weather have you been having in Olympus lately?And how's Vulcan? I suppose Cupid must be getting quite a big boy?"

She laughed. "You wouldn't know him if you saw him," she said.

"Don't be too sure. When does he go to the 'Varsity? Or shan't yousend him?"

"He's there now. Doing awfully well, too!"

"Taken a first in the Honour School of Love, I suppose? Is he as gooda shot as ever?"

"He's a very good son."

"Ought to be," said I.

"Yes," she said steadily, gazing with eyes half-closed, over the fieldsand hedgerows, away to the distant hills, the faintest smile hung onher parted lips. "He's never given me a day's trouble since he wasborn. I don't think he will, either, not for a long time, any way."

Thoughtfully I pulled on my gloves. Then:

"My dear," said I, "for that boast you may shortly expect a judgment."

"More judgments?" she cried with a laugh, turning to look at me, thestraight brows raised in mockery. "Which will cost you more, my fairOlympian, than a glad eye."

A quarter past five. The train was passing through the outskirts ofLondon. A bare ten minutes more, and we should arrive. I lookedanxiously at the girl, wondering where, when, how I should see heragain. For the last half-hour we had spoken but little. She hadseemed sleepy, and I had begged her to rest. Dreamily she had thankedme, saying that she had had little sleep the night before. Then theeyes had smiled gently and disappeared. It was almost dark now, soswift had been the passing of the winter's day. Lights shone andblinked out of the darkness. Another train roared by, and weslackened speed. Slowly we crawled over a bridge spanning meanstreets. One could not but mark the bustling scene below. The suddendin compelled attention. I looked down upon the writhing traffic, theglistening roadway, the pavements crowded with hurrying, jostlingforms. An over-lighted public house made the cheap shops seem ill-lit,poorer still. Its dirty splendour dominated everything: even the talltrams took on a lesser light. The lumbering roar of wheels, theinsistent clamour of an obstructed tram, the hoarse shouts of hawkerscrying their wares—all this rose up above the rumble of theslow-moving train. I was glad when we had left the spot behind. Itwould not do after the country-side. It occurred to me that, but alittle space back some seventy rolling years—here also had stretchedfair green fields. Perchance the very ones poor dying Falstaff hadbabbled of. We slunk past an asylum—a long mass, dark, sinister. Bythis even the trams seemed to hasten. I could just hear their thinsong, as they slid forward.

Enough. Already I was half-way to depression. Resolutely I turned,giving the window my shoulder. My Lady had not stirred. Wistfully Iregarded her closed eyes. In five minutes we should be in, and therewere things I wanted to say... A smile crept into the gentle face.

"Go on," she said quietly. "I'm listening."

"I was wondering, goddess, if I should ever see you again."

"Oh, probably! The world's awfully small. Not for some time, though.I leave for Cannes to-morrow, to join my people."

"Cannes!" I exclaimed.

"Yes. You must have heard of it. Where the weather comes from."

"Where it stays, you mean," I growled, as the rising wind flung ahandful of raindrops against the windows. For a moment I sat silent,looking out into the night, thinking. Except for a luncheon, to-morrowwas free. And I could cut that. A network of shining rails showedthat the terminus was at hand. I turned to my lady.

"Then we shall meet again to-morrow," I said gravely. "I have to godown to Dover, too."

"What for?" This suspiciously.

I rose and took up my hat. "Another dog," I said shortly.

She broke into silvery merriment. At length:

"Nonsense," she said, rising.

"Not at all," said I. "The Dover dogs are famous."

"Sea-dogs, perhaps," she murmured, setting one knee on the cushions tolook into the glass. "Well, you've been awfully kind, and I'm verygrateful. And now—" she swung round—"good-bye." She held out a slimhand.

The train drew up to the platform.

"Good-bye?" said I, taking the cool fingers. She nodded.

"And I hope you'll get a good dog at Dover," she said, smiling. "Ishall think of you. You see, I'm going by Folkestone and Boulogne."

In silence I bent over the slight fingers. Slowly they slipped away.

I opened the door. Then I turned to the girl.

"You know," I said, "the Folkestone dogs."

"At last," said Berry, as the car swung into line in Kensington Gore,about a furlong from the doors of the Albert Hall. "A short hour and aquarter, and we shall be there. Can anyone tell me why I consented tocome?"

"To please yourself," said Daphne shortly.

"Wrong," said her husband. "The correct answer will appear in our nextissue. Five million consolation prizes will be awarded to those who,in the opinion of—"

"Have you got the tickets?" said his wife.

"Tickets!" said Berry contemptuously. "I've had to put myhandkerchief in my shoe, and my cigarette-case has lodged slightly tothe right and six inches below my heart. You'll have to make a ringround me, if I want to smoke."

"Have you got the tickets?" said Daphne.

"My dear, I distinctly remember giving them to—"

A perfect shriek went up from Daphne and Jill. The footman slipped onto the step and opened the door.

"Did you call, madam?"

"Yes," said Berry. "Give Mrs. Pleydell the tickets."

Our party was an undoubted success. Jonah looked wonderful, Daphneand Jill priceless. With her magnificent hair unbound, her simpleboy's dress, her little rough shoes at the foot of legs bare to theknee, my sister was a glorious sight. And an exquisite Jill, in greenand white and gold, ruffled it with the daintiest air and a light inher grey eyes that shamed her jewellery. Berry was simply immense. Abrilliant make-up, coupled with the riotous extravagance of his dress,carried him half-way. But the pomp of carriage, the circumstance ofgait which he assumed, the manner of the man beggar description.Cervantes would have wept with delight, could he have witnessed it.The Squire of the Wood passed.

And did little else. And that somewhat listlessly, till he saw mylady. That was just after supper, and she was sitting on the edge of abox, scanning her programme. All lovely, dressed as Potpourri.

"You were right," said I. "The world is small." We floated into themusic. "So is your waist. But, then I learned that this morning. So.When you were upset."

"Do you like my dress?"

"Love it. Where did it come from?"

She mentioned a French firm.

"Ah!" said I, "Give me the judgment of Paris."

CHAPTER VI

WHICH TO ADORE

"I suppose you think I'm going to swear," said Berry defiantly.

Jill and Daphne clasped one another and shrieked with laughter. Berrystopped addressing the ball and gazed at them.

"Go on!" he said, nodding sardonic approval. "Provoke me to violence.Goad me in the direction of insanity."

His caddie sniggered audibly. Berry turned to him.

"That's right, my boy. Make the most of your time. For you I havealready devised a lingering death."

"Look here, old chap," said I, "there's some mistake. I said I'd giveyou a stroke a hole, not a divot a stroke."

Jonah strolled up. "Hullo!" he said, "making a new bunker, old man?Good idea. Only a cleek's no good. Send the boy for a turf-cutter.Quicker in the long run."

My brother-in-law regarded us scornfully. Then:

"What I want to know," he said, "is how the Punch office can spare youboth at the same time."

Daphne, Berry and I were playing a three-ball match, while Jill andJonah—who had sprained his wrist—were walking round with us. Berryis rather good really, but just now he was wearing a patch over oneeye, which made him hopeless.

It was glorious spring weather on the coast of Devon. A little villageis Feth. Over and round about it the wind blows always, but thecluster of white cottages and the old brown inn themselves lie close ina hollow of the moorland, flanked by the great cliffs. Only the greychurch, set up on the heights, half a mile distant, endures thetempests. The wind passes over Feth and is gone. A busy fellow, thewind. He has no time to stop. Not so the sunshine. That lingers withFeth all day, decking: the place gloriously. It is good to be a pet ofthe sun. So are the gardens of Feth bright with flowers, the whitewalls dazzling, the stream, that scrambles over brown pebbles to thelittle bay, merry water.

Except for the natives, we had the place to ourselves. But then Fethsees few visitors at any season. Sixteen miles from a station is itssalvation. True, there is Mote Abbey hard by—a fine old place with anancient deer-park and deep, rolling woods. Ruins, too, we had heard.A roofless quire, a few grass-grown yards of cloister and the like.Only the Abbot's kitchen was at all preserved. There's irony for you.We were going to see them before we left. We were told that in summerat the house itself parties assembled. But the family was away now.

The round of golf proceeded. "How many is that?" said Berry, as hesliced into the sea.

"Seven," said I. "Not seven into the sea, you know. Seven strokes.You've only hit three into the sea altogether."

"Isn't he clever with his sums? Here, give me another ball. Where'sHenry?"

I handed him the last-named—a favourite cleek. The caddie had gone tocollect the flotsam.

"Now then. Ladies and gentlemen, with your kind permission I shall nowproceed to beat the sphere into the sky."

It was a tremendous shot, and we could see that it must have reachedthe green; but when we came up and found the ball in the hole nobodywas more surprised than Berry. Of course, he didn't show it. Berrydoesn't give things away.

"Ah!" he said pleasantly. "That's better. I'm beginning to get usedto playing with one eye. You know, all the time I—er—seem to see twoballs."

"Nonsense," said Daphne.

"If you said you'd been seeing two holes all day, I could believe it,"said Jonah. "Anyone might think so from the way you've been playing."

Berry smiled ecstatically. "My recent—er—chef d'oeuvre—(note theParisian accent)—has ipso facto—(Latin of the Augustan Age)—placedme beyond the pricks of criticism. The venom, brother, which you wouldsquirt upon me, bespatters but yourself. Boy, place me the globe uponyon pinnacle of sand. So. Now indicate to me the distant pin. Thankyou. Do I see it? No. Natheless (obsolete, but pure), I say namelessit beckons me. And now give me—yes, give me Douglas."

The caddie handed him a brassie. He had caddied for Berry before.

"Don't breathe for a moment, anyone," said Daphne.

Her husband frowned and silently sliced into the sea.

"How many balls did you see that time?" said Jonah.

"Three," said I. "That's why he's going to pawn his clubs."

"The aftermath of gluttony." I spoke disgustedly. It was afterluncheon, and Daphne was already asleep. Jill and Jonah droopedcomfortably in huge chairs. Berry sprawled upon a sofa.

"I suppose we outrage what you call your sense of decency." murmuredthe latter.

"You do. Incidentally, you also irritate me, because I shall have togo round alone."

"Friend, your foul egoism leaves me unmoved. Go forth and harry yourballs. I am about to slumber like a little child. Do you think Ishall dream, brother?"

"Probably," said I. "About fried fish shops."

Jill shuddered in her chair, and Berry sat up.

"After that most offensive allusion," he said pompously, "I have nooption but to ask you to withdraw. The touts' room is downstairs.Before leaving you may give me what cigarettes you have in your case."

I smiled grimly. Then: "I'm afraid I don't approve of—ah—childrensmoking," I said, moving towards the door. "Besides, a littleexercise'll do you good. There is a box in my room—you know wherethat is?"

"Where?" snarled my brother-in-law.

I put my head round the door and looked at him. "Immediately above thetouts'," said I.

The breeze of the morning had died away, and though the month was themonth of April, it might have been a midsummer afternoon. I started onmy solitary round, well enough pleased, really, to be alone. Theweather was excellent company. My clubs I carried myself.

The fourth hole lies in a little valley, under the lee of a steep,rock-studded hill, whose other side falls sheer into the tumblingwaves. On an idle impulse I left my clubs at the fifth tee andscrambled on up the green slope to gaze upon and over the sea below. Ihave a weakness for high places on the edges of England. I cannotmatch the dignity of them. Where yellow sands invite, these do noteven stoop to challenge. They are superb, demigods, the Royalty of thecoast.

As I breasted the summit, I heard a child's voice reading aloud.

"And the people told him of all the splendid things which were in thecity, and about the King, and what a pretty Princess the King'sdaughter was."

'Where can one get to see her?' asked the soldier.

"'She is not to be seen at all,' said they, all together 'she lives ina great copper castle, with a great many walls and towers round aboutit; no one but the King may go in and out there, for it has beenprophesied that she shall marry a common soldier, and the King can'tbear that."'

"'I should like to see her,' thought the soldier..."

"The reading came from beyond and below me. I fell on my knees,crawled forward, and peered over the top of a slab of rock. On thewarm grass, twenty paces from the edge of the cliff, sat a little boy,his brown knees propping a book. By his side, facing the sea, lay agirl of nineteen or twenty years, her hands clasped behind her head.Her eyes were closed. She seemed to be asleep. The reading continued.

"And all his friends knew him again, and cared very much for himindeed."

Once he thought to himself,' It is a very strange thing that one cannotget to see the Princess. They all say she is very beautiful; but whatis the use of that, if she has always to sit in the great copper castlewith the many towers? Can I not get to see her at all? Where is mytinder-box?' And so he struck a light, and whisk! came the dog witheyes as big as teacups.

"'It is midnight, certainly, said the soldier; 'but I should very muchlike to see the Princess, only for one little moment.'"

Here the child shaded his eyes and looked down at the sands of a creek,quarter of a mile away.

"There they are," he exclaimed, dropping the book and scrambling to hisfeet. He waved delightedly to two specks on the sands below. Then:

"Good-bye, Cousin Lallie," he cried. "I'll be home by six," and toreaway down the green slope like a mad thing. But his cousin neverwaked. I watched her meditatively.

A skirt of grey-blue tweed, and the fresh white of a blouse beneath asmart coat to match. Her small grey hat lay on the grass by her side.Her slim legs were crossed comfortably, and the bright sun lighted aface at once strong and gentle, clear-cut under its thick black hair,which was parted in the middle and hung low over each temple. Herbrows were straight, and on the red mouth was a faint smile.

I looked away over the glittering waves. Then I came quietly down,picked up "Hans Andersen," and took my seat by her side. I found theplace and continued the story aloud:

"And the dog was outside the door directly, and, before the soldierthought it, came back with the Princess. She sat upon the dog's backand slept; and every one could see she was a real Princess, for shewas so lovely. The soldier could not refrain from kissing her, for hewas a thorough soldier.."

Here the girl stirred, opened her eyes, saw me, and sat up.

"Who on earth—" she began. "It's all right," said I. "It's only afairy tale. Besides, I'm not a soldier, although I don't see—"

"How long has this been going on?"

"Only just begun," said I. "Listen.

"Then the dog ran back with the Princess. But when morning came—"

"Where's Roy?"

"He had to go and join his friends," said I. "Fortunately I happenedto be here to take his place. He asked me to say he should be home notlater than six. Where were we? Oh, I know.

"But when morning came—"

She raised a slim hand for me to stop. Then she clasped her knees andregarded me with her head on one side.

"A bad end," she said laconically.

"A good beginning, anyway," said I.

"I might be a sorceress."

"I believe you are."

"Or an adventuress, for all you know."

"Or a Princess," said I.

"What made you do this?"

"I'll tell you," said I. "Whilst you were asleep, a little smile wasplaying round your lips. And this smile told me that he had two twinsisters who dwelt In your eyes. And, like the soldier, I wanted to seethem, Princess."

"Well, you have now, haven't you?"

I looked at her critically. "I'm afraid they must be out," said I. Inspite of herself she laughed. "No, there they are. Besides—"

"What?"

"The little smile said he had a big brother living in your heart."

"Yes," she said softly.

"Yes. And that made me very brave, Princess. Otherwise I should neverhave dared. Honestly, it was all the little smile's fault, bless him.Isn't it glorious here?"

The bright eyes swept the horizon.

"Yes," she said slowly, "it is. In fact, every prospect pleases."

"And only golf is vile."

"Byron never said that."

"I know he didn't," said I. "Nor, in fact, did Heber. He said 'man.'All the same, I'm not vile. I'm rather nice, really. At least, so oneof the smaller birds told me."

"Not really?"

"I mean it."

"Perhaps it was a skylark."

"As a matter of fact," I said stiffly, "it was an owl. A breed famousfor its wisdom."

"Ah, but you shouldn't believe everything you're told."

"It isn't a question of what I believe, but of what other peoplebelieve," said I. "But if you don't believe it yourself, how can youexpect—"

"I never said I didn't believe it myself. Besides, I don't want toargue. I want to watch the smiles playing 'Here we go round themulberry bush.'"

The girl broke into peals of silvery laughter. "Is my nose as bad asall that?" she said presently.

"Your nose is the nose of dainty Columbine," said I. "Dream noses,they call them. And you know that mulberry bushes don't figure in thatgame any more than the bells of St. Clement Danes are ever used bychildren playing 'Oranges and lemons.'"

"Admit it was a floater on your part, and I'll let you play a roundwith me."

"I—er—confess, upon consideration, that the allusion—"

"That'll do," she said, laughing.

I rose. She put out a hand, and I drew her to her feet.

"My clubs are just by that rock there. Do you think you can manageHans Andersen?"

"Every time," said I, picking up the book. I shouldered her clubs andtogether we scrambled over the rise and down towards the fifth tee.

"Oh, I told you I adored you, didn't I?" I said suddenly.

"I don't think so."

"Surely I did. Perhaps you were asleep."

"Asleep!" she said scornfully. "I was awake all the time. I nearlydied when you began to read."

I stopped short and looked at her. "You are a deceitful witch." I said.

"A what witch?"

"The which to adore," said I.

After the fourth hole the course lies inland. For the next ten holesyou play directly away from the sea. Then the fifteenth takes a sharpturn to the left, skirting the deer-park of Mote Abbey, while thesixteenth bears to the left again, heading straight for the club-houseand the coast once more.

My lady was a pretty player. I gave her two strokes a hole and ledtill the fourteenth, but on that green she holed a ten-foot putt whichmade us all square.

If she hadn't sliced her drive from the fifteenth tee, it would havebeen a beautiful shot. We watched it curl over the grey wall into thesunshot park.

"Out of bounds, I suppose," said I. "What a pity, pretty Princess."

"Not at all," she replied. "It was a lovely shot. You can't do betterthan follow that line."

"Into the deer-park?"

"Why not? It's much prettier."

"I'm sure it is," said I.

"But what of that? Unless somebody's moved it since this morning, thegreen's about a hundred and twenty yards away from the wall on thisside. To say nothing of the fact that the park's private property,while there's a notice-board about three feet square, beginning'Golfers are requested to remember,' at the one place where a giantmight effect an entrance."

"Yes," she said quietly, "I got brother to put that board there. Wetried to make it polite. The caddies used to frighten the deer so."

I just stood and looked at her. The three smiles blazed back at me.In silence I turned and teed up. Then I drove after her ball into thefair park.

When we reached the place where the board was posted, she touched myhand and pointed to her little brown shoe. For an instant she restedon my palm. The next moment she was on the top of the wall. Shesmiled her thanks before disappearing. I followed with the clubs.There was a ladder on the other side. She was awaiting my descent. Insilence we walked forward together. Presently I touched her arm andstood still. She turned and looked at me, the sun making all manner ofexquisite lights in her glorious hair.

"If I had a hat on," I said simply, "I should uncover."

The little bow she gave me would have launched another "thousandships." In the slight action all the charm of her was voicedexquisitely. Grace, sweetness and dignity—all in a bow. So it wasalways. Helen's features would not have fired a sheepcote: the charmthat lighted them blotted out a city. Cleopatra's form would not havespoiled a slave: the magnetism of her ruined Marc Antony. Elizabeth'sspeech would not have sunk a coracle: the personality behind itsmashed an Armada.

We came to her ball first. As I handed her her brassie:

"Tell me one thing," said I. "If I had not been there, how would youhave got over the wall?"

She looked at me mischievously. "I have a way," she said.

"I know," I said, patting her golf-bag. "These aren't really clubs atall."

"What are they, then?"

"Broomsticks."

It was the best part of a mile to the fair lawn, where we holed outunderneath the cedars. I won with fourteen, which wasn't bad,considering I was bunkered in a bed of daffodils. She gave me tea inthe old library, sweet with the fragrance of pot-pourri. Out of itslatticed windows I could see the rolling woods, bright in their freshgreen livery. For nearly an hour and a half we sat talking. I toldher of Daphne and the others. She told me of her mother and sistersand how her brother had cared for the Abbey since her father's death.It was true that the family was away. She was alone there, save forher eldest sister's child—Roy. Next month she would go to London.

"Where I may come and see you?"

"I should be very hurt if you didn't. It's going to be rather nice."

"It is," I said with conviction.

"I meant the season. I'll enjoy it all. The dances and theatres,Ranelagh, Ascot, Lord's, the Horse Show and everything. But—"

"How glad and happy she'll be to get back to the Abbey with its deepwoodland and its warm park, its gentle-eyed deer, its oaks and elms andcedars, its rose-garden and its old paved court. How grateful to leanout of her bedroom window into the cool, quiet, starlit nights. Howpleased to watch the setting sun making the ragged clerestory morebeautiful than did all its precious panes."

I stopped. She was sitting back in her chair by the window, chin inair, showing her soft, white throat, gazing with half-closed eyes up atthe reddening sky.

"He understands," she murmured, "he understands."

For a little space we sat silent. Then I rose.

"Good-bye." I said. "You have been very kind. Perhaps I may comeagain."

She did not move. Only her eyes left the window and rested on mine."Ring the bell," she said. "I am going to take you to see the ruins.They are at their best, as you said, at sundown."

"Thank you," I said, and stepped to the fireplace. A footman enteredthe room. "I want the key of the Abbot's kitchen," said my hostess.

"Some visitors have it, madam. A gentleman called to ask for it tenminutes ago."

"Oh, all right." She rose and turned to me. "Let's go, then. We'llprobably meet them bringing it back."

The half-light lent the old quire's walls a rare beauty. A great peacehung over them. Perhaps it was of them. For a little we strolled,talking, upon the greensward. Then:

"Now you shall see the kitchen," she said.

"If you please, Princess."

The kitchen stood away from the ruins, in the middle of a fair meadow:a circular building of grey stone, very lofty and about sixty paces incircumference. Its great oak door was closed. I could see one tinywindow—glassless, of course—some sixteen feet from the ground.

"Why!" said the girl, stopping suddenly, "the door's shut."

"Yes," said I; "but what of that?"

"Well, the people must have gone."

"Why?"

"Well, you can't see inside if you shut the door. Besides, if you do,you can't open it again. Not from within I mean. It's a spring lock."

"Perhaps they're locked in."

"They can't be."

"They might," said I. "Come on."

I was right. As we drew near, a confused murmur fell upon our ears.People talking excitedly. Then came the sound of blows upon the door.

"O-o-oh," said my companion. "So they are."

At that moment feminine tones were raised in a wail of expostulation.

"Yes, I shall! It's silly not to. Help! He-elp!"

Daphne's voice.

I fell on the green grass and writhed in silent laughter. When thegirl recoiled in horror, I caught her by a warm ankle.

"Don't move!" I whispered. "Don't speak! Don't make a sound!Listen! It's my own party in there—Berry and Co. It's the mostperfect thing that ever happened. Hush! We're going to have the timeof our lives."

Again I rolled in an ecstasy of mirth. As the comedy of the situationdawned upon the girl, she began to laugh helplessly.

The knocking began again. I got up, and together we approached warily.As we reached the door:

"I'm glad I had four cups of tea," said Berry. "How many did you have?"

"Two," said Jill tearfully.

"Ah, I shall survive you, then. Very likely I shall be alive, ifinsane, when found. At any rate, with the aid of artificialrespiration—"

"Rubbish!" said Daphne. "Some one must hear us soon."

"My dear, the noise we can make wouldn't flush a titlark at twentypaces. No, no!" he went on airily, "a lingering death awaits us. Ionly wish my caddie was here, too. Is anyone's tongue swelling?That's a sure sign. Directly you feel that, you know you're thirsty."

"Fool!" said his wife, "Besides, they'll miss the key soon."

"Where is the key?" said Jonah. "If we once lose that, we shall neverfind it again."

There was an awful silence. Then:

"Er—didn't I give it to you?" said Berry.

His words were the signal for a general uproar. The others fell uponBerry and rent him. As it died down, we heard him bitterly comparingthem to wolves and curs about a lion at bay. Then a match was struckand there were groping sounds.

"When you've quite finished with my feet," said Daphne in a witheringtone.

"Sorry, dearest. I thought it was a bag of meal," said her husband."My thoughts run on food just now, you see." Here he gave a yell ofagony. "Get off!" he screamed. "You're on my hand."

"That's more like it," said Jonah. "That ought to carry."

"Meal-bags don't hurt, do they?" said Daphne coolly. My sister isproud of her dainty feet.

"Vixen," replied her spouse.

I slipped my arm into that of the girl, who was leaning against thewall shaking with laughter. Tears were coursing down my cheeks. Idrew her away from the door and whispered brokenly in her ear. Shenodded and pulled herself together. Then she went to the door andknocked. Silence.

"Hullo," she said.

"Er-hullo," said Berry.

"I thought I heard somebody calling," said the girl.

"Er—did you?" said Berry.

"Yes, but I'm afraid I must have been mistaken. Perhaps it was someboys calling. Good-bye."

There was a perfect shriek of "Don't go" from Daphne and Jill. Then:

"You idiot!" said Daphne. "Let me." We heard her advance to the door.

"I say," she purred, "it's awfully sweet of you to have come. We didcall. You see, it sounds awfully silly, but we're locked in."

"Oh, how dreadful for you," said the girl.

"Yes, isn't it? There's no key-hole this side."

"How awfully tiresome. Have you been there long?"

"Oh, no. Only a few moments. We just came to see the place."

"Well, do you think you can manage to throw the key out of the window?Then I could unlock the door for you, couldn't I?"

"Oh, thank you so very much. If you don't mind waiting aminute—er—it's so dark in here and so confusing that—"

"You don't mean to say you've lost the key?" said the girl.

"Oh, it's not lost," said Daphne. "It's just here somewhere. One ofus laid it down for a moment and, really, in this darkness you can'tsee anything. If we only had some more matches—"

"I've got a box," I said. A long silence followed my words. Then:

"My dear lady," said Berry. "Are you still there?"

"Yes," said my companion, her voice shaking a little.

"Then I beseech you to have no dealing with the being whose vileaccents I heard but a moment ago. A man of depraved instincts andprofligate ways, he is no fit companion for a young and innocent girl.Moreover, viper-like, he bears malice towards us, who have shielded himfor years."

"How awful," said the girl.

"Yes," said Berry, "for your own sake, dear lady, beware of him. Andfor ours, too, I beg you. On no account accept his profferedassistance—in the matter of the key, I mean. If he really hasmatches, tell him to throw them in. Adopt a hectoring tone and he willfear you. But, remember, he is as cunning as a serpent, Let but thatkey fall into his hands—"

"Wait till it's fallen into your own hands, old cock," said I.

"Dear lady," said Berry, "you hear his ribald—"

The rest of the sentence was drowned in the peals of laughter to whichmy companion at last gave vent. I joined her, and the meadow resoundedwith our merriment. When we had recovered a little:

"Will you have the matches?" said I, standing beneath the window, "orshall I send for the battering ram?"

"Throw them in, fathead," said my brother-in-law.

"Ask nicely, then."

"I'll see you—"

"Please, Boy, dear," cried Jill.

I laughed and pitched the box into the kitchen. The next second weheard a match struck, and the groping sounds recommenced. The girl andI strolled a little back from the window and stood, awaiting the key.

"So it's all come true," said I, looking at her.

"What has?"

"The fairy tale." I pointed to the kitchen. "There is the coppercastle, and here"—with a bow—"the pretty Princess. The tinder-box Ihave just thrown to my companions."

"And I suppose you're the soldier," she said slowly.

"Yes," I said, "the common soldier."

"Common?"

"Yes, dear," I said, taking her hand. "Common, but thorough;thoroughly common, but uncommonly thorough. And now look at me, prettyPrincess."

She turned a laughing face to mine. Suddenly, as I bent forward, theeyes flashed.

"I suppose this is the little smile's fault, too," she said quietly.

Instantly I released her hand and stood up, smiling.

"No," I said gently. "It would have been the soldier's."

For a moment she smiled back. Then she slipped an arm round my neck.

"Let's call it Hans Andersen's," she whispered.

A perfect Babel arose suddenly from the kitchen. In the midst of theturmoil I seemed to discern Berry's fat laugh. The next second a largekey hurtled through the window.

I picked it up and strode to the door. When I had put it into thekeyhole, I paused.

"Buck up, Boy!" said Berry.

"One question," said I. "Where was the key?"

"Where d'you think?" said Jonah bitterly.

"In his pocket all the time?" said I.

"Right," said Berry. "Now do your worst."

"I'm going to," said I. "I'm going to let you out."

CHAPTER VII

EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY

The front door banged. Followed quick steps on the steep, uncarpetedstairs, and a knock on the studio's door.

"Come in," said I.

The door opened and a girl in a lilac dress swept into the room.

"I'm afraid I'm awfully la—O-o-oh!" she said.

"If it isn't her!" said I.

For a moment we stood looking at one another with big eyes. Then:

"Where's Mr. Larel?" she demanded.

"He'll be here in a moment. Won't you sit down? He and I are oldfriends."

She smiled.

"I know," she said.

"He's told me—"

"The devil he has," said I.

A little peal of laughter.

"As I feared," said I.

"My dear, you've been misled. Yes. That over there is a chair. Itcost three and ninepence in the King's Road. Local colour, you know.He's putting it in his new picture, 'Luxury'."

Still smiling, she took her seat. Then:

"He said you were awful," she said.

Till a fortnight ago, I had not seen George Larel for quite five years.Not since we had been at Oxford together. When he went down, he leftEngland, to study, I understood. He always drew rather well. Then onespring morning I struck him in Piccadilly, by the railings of the GreenPark. He was standing still, a large, blue air-ball in his hand,steadfastly regarding the Porters' Rest. Our greeting wascharacteristic.

"Well, George," said I. He looked round.

"Hullo, old chap." He pointed to the Rest. "Rather nice, that. Pitythere aren't more. Why didn't they keep the Pike at Hyde Park Corner?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I begged them to," said I. "But you knowwhat they are."

George looked at me critically. Then:

"That's a good hat," he said. "I'd like to paint you just as you are."He stepped back and half closed his eyes. "Yes, that'll do. When canyou come? I always said I would, you know," he added.

"You're very good, George. Come to the club and—"

He shook his head. "We'll talk, when you come. I've got to go toRichmond now." He pointed to the air-ball. "There was a child thereyesterday, playing in the Park, with eyes—I've only seen their likeonce before. That was in Oporto." He sighed. "Will you cometo-morrow at eleven? Cheyne Row. I forget the number, but it's got agreen door."

"I'd love to."

He hailed a taxi.

"That's right, then." He turned to the driver. "Go to Richmond," hesaid, opening the door.

As it moved, he put his head out of the window.

"Mind you wear that hat, old boy."

The next morning I had my first sitting. It was a great success.There was much to say, and we talked furiously for three hours. Andall the time I sat still upon the throne, and George painted. Abouthis work he said little, but I gathered that he had begun to do well.He mentioned that he had had two or three commissions.

"I'm on that now," he said carelessly, during one of my rests. He waspointing to a canvas, which leaned—face inwards—against the wall. Iwalked across the studio, and turned it round. A girl's picture. Agirl in a flowered dress and a shady hat, her slight shining legscrossed at the knee. Sitting square in the high-backed chair, he waspainting her, one small hand on each of its rosewood arms. The facewas most of all unfinished.

"You've got those legs well," said I, "And I like the dress. She looksrather lovely, as far as one can tell without seeing the face."

George laughed.

"She's all right," he said.

At the end of my second sitting George picked up a knife and begandeliberately to scrape out all the work he had done that morning. Iwatched him, petrified with horror.

"Sorry, old chap," he said, smiling.

"Stop," I cried. "I like that curve of the nostril. It denotes theforce of character which has made me what I am."

George went on ruthlessly.

"I want it to be good of you," he said simply. Half way through mythird sitting George gave a cry and flung off his coat.

"What's the matter?" said I. "Something biting—?

"Talk, man," he said, seizing his palette. "Just talk. Don't mind howI answer. I'm going to paint. By Jove, how I'm going to paint!"

Clearly the fit was upon him. These artists! Not daring to disobey, Italked and talked. Heaven knows what I said. After an hour my tongueclove to the roof of my mouth, but I talked on. And all the timeGeorge alternately bent his brows upon me, and hung himself at thecanvas, uttering strange, smothered cries and oaths, but painting,painting.... At a quarter past two he laid down his palette and criedto me to descend. Stiffly I did so.

For a long moment I looked at the portrait. Then I turned to Georgeand clapped him on the back.

"I think you're going to make a name," said I.

"That's right," he said. "And now give me a cigarette."

Before we went to lunch, he showed me the picture of the girl. It wasalmost finished. Such a fine, brave face. Not a bit pretty—justbeautiful. Dark hair showing under the brim of the hat, steady browneyes, the mouth exquisite...

That was three days ago. And now—pleasedly I regarded the original.

"May I offer you a cigarette?" I said.

When I had lighted it for her:

"To-day is Thursday, isn't it?" she said.

"That's just what I was going to say."

"Yes, I'm sure it is, because last night brother left—"

"The light on in the kitchen garden, with the result that this morningall the cocks were two hours fast. I know. But of course it is.Hasn't Thursday always been my lucky day?"

She blew out a little cloud of smoke and smiled at it. Then:

"I don't know you at all, you know," she said gravely, "and AuntPrudence always used to say—"

"I know. 'Beware of pickpockets. No smoking.' They quote her in thelifts on the Tube. But then I'm not a pickpocket, and you are smoking.Besides, your picture knows mine very well. They've seen quite a lotof each other lately.

"Yes, but—"

"And then you know my picture a little, and I know yours by heart."

"You're quick to learn."

"Perhaps. But I do. I know every eyelash, long as they are. Ibelieve I could say them. But then I was always good at poetry." Thiswith a bow.

She rose and made the daintiest curtsey. "Would have been better," shesaid, resuming her seat in the depths of 'Luxury.' "But the skirts ofto-day don't help."

"And my bow would have been deeper: but the braces I bought yesterdayafternoon—"

"That'll do," she said, laughing. "Seriously, where is Mr. Larel, andwhy are you here?"

"George is probably scouring Battersea for a child he saw there lastautumn with ears such as he has never beheld outside Khartoum. I amhere, as you are, in the interest of Posterity."

"Did he tell you Thursday, too?"

"Certainly. I remember it perfectly. We were standing in St. James'sSquare, near where I get my shirts. Nobody recognized us. George hada cigar in his mouth, and his exact words were, 'Wottabow Hursday?' Ihad some of the wood pavement in my eye, and my exact words weretherefore excusable."

"And now he's forgotten us both."

"On the contrary, he's probably remembered."

"And is consequently afraid to come himself?"

"Exactly. Well, we couldn't very well overlook the insult, could we?"

"It might be wiped out in paint."

I shook my head. Then:

"French polish might do," I said. "But then, he hasn't got any ofthat. However. To tell you the truth, I don't know that I'm veryangry with him. I shall pretend to be, of course. But, now that fromadmiring the imitation, I find myself face to face with the real thing,I—"

"And the rest. I like these cigarettes rather."

"Dear Sir or Madam," said I, "what is it about our cigarettes that soappeals to your palate?"

She laughed. "I don't know anything about cigarettes, really, butthese seem so fresh."

"My dear," said I, "you could have said nothing more calculated to warmthe cockles of my heart. You are a connoisseurs (very good indeed).These cigarettes are actually straight from the stable, I mean theOttoman Empire. I shall send you a box this afternoon by CarterPaterson."

"You're very kind. But tell me, why is their paper brown?"

"Berry says it's swank. But then he would. As a matter of fact, it'smaize. I like it myself: it's so nourishing. Besides, it goes so wellwith a blue suit. Talking of which, with a flowered dress and darkhair, it's absolutely it."

She stretched out a shapely hand, reflectively settling her frock."White ones would match my gloves, though."

"They would. And the whites of your eggs—I mean eyes. I know. Oh,and your soft throat. But—"

"He said you were awful."

"You see, my dear, we live in an age of contrast. Women no longer playfor safety in dress. They have begun to dare. And contrasts showimagination. Sometimes they're actually striking."

"While matches have to be struck."

"Like bargains. Exactly. They're passive, while contrasts are active.We're rather clever this morning, aren't you?"

"It's the coming of summer in my case. I was in the Row at half-pastseven this morning, and the air—"

"I know. It was like hock-cup out of a stone jar, while the others areon the bank looking for a place to tie the punt up. I noticed it too.I was in the bathroom—"

"Lazy."

"Taking off my riding boots. You see, you don't give me time."

"I don't believe you."

"Hush. I feel that my tie is not straight. This must be rectified.Is there a mirror in the room? No, there is not a mirror in the room.The room is mirrorless. Very well, then. Either I must use thepatent-leather of your little shoes, or perhaps you will lend me one ofyour large eyes. Of the two, I'd rather have the eye. There's moreroom."

"Sorry the line's engaged. Shall I call you?"

"If you please. My pet name is Birdie, short for Bolingbroke.Meanwhile, may I have a nail? Only one little nail?"

"You'll have a whole palm in a minute."

"Which will be quite in order. I have frequently borne the palm."

"How many biscuits have you taken?"

"Seven, and two buns. My sister's awfully proud of them. But aboutthis tie."

"You shouldn't wear made-up ties," she said severely.

I sat up and looked at her. Mischievously she regarded the ceiling.Presently:

"Note the awful silence," I said.

"And dickeys are going out too."

"Look here," said I, "I shall undress in a minute. Just to show you.These are matters touching the reputation."

With that I gravely untied my tie.

To my indignation she clapped her small hands with delight, and gaveway to quiet laughter. I nodded solemnly.

"Very good," I said. "Now I shall simply have to have an eye. No merenail will suffice."

"You will have nothing of the kind."

I rose and walked to the window in some dudgeon. After considerablefocussing, I managed to locate the environs of my collar in a dustypane. While the work of reconstruction was proceeding:

"Once upon a time," said I, "there was a queen. She was very beautifulfrom the crown of her little head, which the dark hair kept always, tothe soles of her shining feet. And people loved to look at her andhear the music of her laughing. Only, it was no good going onThursday, because that was early-closing day in her realm, and she andThe Mint and The Dogs' Cemetery, and all the other places of interestwere closed. You weren't allowed to see the crown jewels, which shewore in her eyes..."

Outside a taxi slowed down and stopped. Cautiously I peered out ofthe window. George.

I turned to the girl. "Here he is," I said.

As I spoke, an idea came to me. Hurriedly I glanced round the studio.Then:

"Quick," I said, pointing to a little recess, which was curtained off."You go in there. We'll punish him."

A smile, and she whipped behind the curtain.

"Are you all right?" I whispered.

"Yes."

"Put your hand out a second. Quick, lass!" I spoke excitedly.

"What for?" she said, thrusting it between the curtains.

"Homage," said I, kissing the slight fingers.

The next moment George burst into the room. "Thank heaven," he said,as soon as he saw me.

"What d'you mean?" I said stiffly.

"I'm so thankful," he said with a sigh of relief. "I knew it was you.I was a fool to worry. But, you know, I suddenly got an idea that I'dfixed Thursday for Margery Cicester."

"That would have been awful," I said bitterly.

"Yes," said George, "it would, wouldn't it?"

I could have sworn I heard smothered laughter in the recess.

"But, George," I said, "how did you know I liked waiting?"

George laughed and clapped me on the back.

"I forgot." he said. "I'm sorry, old man. But you see—"

"One hour and ten minutes," said I, looking at my watch. George tookoff his coat, and began to draw a blind over the sky-light.

"I was very late last night," he said.

I gasped.

"D'you mean to say you've only just got up?" I roared.

"Oh, I've had breakfast."

I picked up my hat and turned to the door.

"Where are you going?" said George.

"There are limits," I said over my shoulder. "If it had been MissCicester, you would have crawled about the room, muttering abjectapologies and asking her to kick you. But as it's me—"

"No, I shouldn't. I should have said that my housekeeper'd been takenill suddenly, or..."

"Go on," said I.

This was better.

"Or that the Tube had stuck, or something."

"Why not tell her the truth, and fling yourself—"

"You know what women are?"

"George, you surprise me. Would you deceive an innocent girl?"

"Women are so narrow-minded. They can't understand...Nice kid, though,this."

This was splendid. "You mean, Margery—er—What's-her-name?"

"Yes. She's taken rather a fancy to you—your picture, I mean."

I laughed deprecatingly. Then:

"What's she like?" I said carelessly. "To look at, I mean?"

"Like!" roared George. "What d'you mean?"

"Like," I replied coolly. "You know. Similar to."

"Well, she's like that, you fool!" said George heatedly, pointing tothe picture.

"Ah, of course. Is she really?"

"Look here," said George. "If you can't—"

"Wait a bit," said I. "When was she due here? I mean to say, supposingyou had fixed to-day for her to come?"

"Eleven o'clock. Why?"

"There now," I said musingly. "It must have been just about then."

George seized me by the arm. "Has she been and gone?" he cried.

"Well, I don't know. But about an hour ago a girl did come here. NowI come to think, she was something like the picture. I thought she wasa model, and—"

George flung up his hands with a cry. I stopped and looked at him.

"Go on," he said excitedly. "What did she say?"

"Yes, I know it was about then, because a van had just gone up thestreet. You know. One of those big vans with—"

"Damn the van!" said George. "What did she say?"

"She didn't say anything. I tell you, I thought she was a model. Ijust said you didn't want one this morning."

George literally recoiled.

"What's the matter?" said I. "Aren't you well?"

"Had she a lilac dress on?" he cried, with the air of one hopingagainst hope.

"Er—yes," said I.

At that, George uttered a terrible cry, snatched up his coat, andbefore I could stop him, rushed out of the studio. I put my head outof the window. As he dashed hatless out of the front door:

"Where are you going?" I said.

He threw me a black look. Then: "To wire an apology," he said.

I turned to find my lady at my shoulder.

"He's gone to wire you an apology," I said.

"You are wicked," she said. "Poor Mr. Larel. I feel quite—"

I put my head on one side and regarded her. "Nice kid, though," I said.

"I know," she said severely. "But the poor man—"

"She's taken quite a fancy to me," said I.

She drew back, biting a red lip and trying hard not to smile.

"He'll soon be back," I went on, "and then you're going to have yourshow. Kindly ascend the throne. All queens do sooner or later."

"Really, I think he's had enough," she said, settling herself in thehigh-backed chair.

After a little argument:

"All you've got to remember," I said, "is that you're awfully sorryyou're so late, and that the truth is you forgot all about the sitting,and that, by the way, when you got here, you met a man going out, andthat you don't know who he was, but you suppose it was alright. Onlyyou thought Mr. Larel ought to know."

"I've never met anyone like you before."

"My dear, you never will. I am unique. And remember you've takenrather a fancy—— Here he is. Yes, queens always have their handskissed. All real queens..."

I seized my hat, stick, and gloves, and faded behind the curtains. Shewas really wonderful. "Mr. Larel, will you ever forgive me? I'm mostawfully sorry. D'you know I quite forgot. I suppose you'd given meup? And now it's too late. Oh, yes. I only came to apologize. Ican't think—"

George couldn't get a word in edgeways. I watched him through thecrack of the curtains. His face was a study. Of course, he wasmentally cursing himself for sending the wire so precipitately, andwondering how the deuce he could explain its arrival without revealingthe true state of affairs. Apparently in the end he decided for themoment, at any rate, to say nothing about it, for, as soon as she lethim speak, he assured her it didn't matter at all, and passed, somewhatuneasily, direct to the weather.

"By the way," said Margery suddenly, "there was a man here when I came.I suppose it was all right."

George started. "You mean him?" he said, pointing to my portrait.

"That?" cried Margery. "The man you're painting? Oh, no. It wasn'thim. At least," she added, leaning forward and looking carefully atthe picture, "I don't think so."

"But it must have been," cried George. "He was here five minutes ago,and no other man—it must have been him."

"But the one I saw was clean-shaven," said Margery.

George pointed to my portrait with a shaking finger. "Isn't that oneclean-shaven?" he wailed.

"So it is," said Margery. "For the moment, the shadow—"

"I'll never paint again!" said George fiercely. "They've hung overeach other's portraits for a week—" "Oh!" cried Margery. "And thefirst time they see one another, they don't know one another from Adam."

"Did you find the post office all right?" said I. Then I came out.

"One thing," said Margery. "Did the Tube stick?"

George stared at her. "Then you were here," he gasped.

"All the time," said I. Margery broke into long laughter.

George regarded us darkly. "You two," he said.

"One hour and ten minutes," said I. "To say nothing of asking us bothon the same day."

"You two," said George.

"We two give you five minutes," I said. "Of these, three may beconveniently occupied by your full and abject apology, and two by thearranging of our next sittings. Then we two are going to lunch. Itis, ah, some time since we two breakfasted."

I made a careful note of Margery's sittings-to-be, as well as of my own.

As we were going: "You know, old chap," said I, "you've neverapologized."

"Miss Cicester knows that I am her humble servant."

"At any rate," said I, "there'll be the telegram."

Half-way down the stairs Margery turned and ran back to the studio.When she came back, she was smiling.

"What new mischief...?" I began.

She turned to me with a maddening smile and opened her mouth. Then shechanged her mind and raised her eyebrows instead.

"This isn't fair," I said. "You can't ride with the herring and runwith the beagles too."

But she would not tell me. Neither would she let me give her lunch.

"But the telegram," said I desperately. "You might let me—"

"I don't suppose you have tea, but if you do happen to be in St.James's Street about a quarter to five..."

That afternoon she showed me the wire. It was as follows:

"Thousand apologies housekeeper's sudden illness detained me justlearned my fool of servant misunderstood hasty instructions and refusedyou admission another thousand apologies two thousand in all writing."We thought it was rather good.

The next morning I glanced at the clock and pushed back my chair.

"I must be off," I murmured.

Jonah raised his eyes and then looked at Berry. The latter's eyes werealready raised. He had begun to sigh.

"What's the matter with you?" said I defiantly.

"One moment," said Berry. "My flesh is creeping. Now then. How manymore of these sittings?"

"Wednesday'll be the last, I think."

"Which means that she's leaving Town on Thursday."

I looked at him sharply. Then:

"What d'you mean, 'She'" I said shortly.

"I have known you for—"

"Less of it," said I. "Much less."

"You know, old chap," said Daphne lazily, "you do seem suspiciouslykeen about this portrait business, don't you?"

I looked at her. She returned my indignant gaze with a steady smile,her chin propped on her white hands, her elbows upon the table.

"Yes," said Jonah. "Afraid of being a minute late, and all that sortof bilge."

"This is an outrage," I gasped. This was nothing but the truth. Itreally was, They were simply drawing a bow at a venture.

"Don't tell me—" Berry began.

"I shan't," said I.

"Naughty temper," said my brother-in-law. "Has she shell-like ears?"

"Look here," I said, "all of you."

"Must we?" said Berry. "We've only just finished a heavy meal, and—"

"I have been five times to George's studio, each time solely with theobject of affording him an opportunity, if possible, of perpetuatingupon canvas my gripping personality." This was the whole truth.

"Guilty upon your own confession of felony," said Jonah. "Have youanything to say why the Court—"

"With the same object I am going to-day." This was the truth. Georgewas going to give me an hour before Margery came.

"Perhaps we're wronging Boy," said Jill.

"Thank you, dear," said I.

"You can't wrong outlaws," said Berry. "Never mind. Some day we shallknow the ter-ruth."

"I believe you're jealous," said I. "Just because you can't find anartist sufficiently dauntless to reproduce your brutal physiognomy—"

"He means to be rude," Berry explained.

I walked to the door.

"Don't forget our lunch, old chap," said my sister.

"You've taken away my appetite," said I.

"Oh, Boy, you know we love you."

I opened the door.

"I say," said Berry.

"What?" said I, pausing.

"Tell George to put in the warts."

Six weeks had hurried away. And then, one morning, I got a note fromGeorge, saying that he had had my picture framed and was sending italong. I broke the news to the others after breakfast.

"Oh, Boy!" cried Jill excitedly.

"I want to see it awfully," said Daphne.

"Why rush upon your fate?" said her husband.

"I hope you'll like it," said I nervously.

"Where are we going to bury—I mean, hang it?" said Jonah.

"What about the potting-shed?" said Berry. "We can easily move themore sensitive bulbs."

"If it's good," said Daphne, "we'll have it in the library."

"I object," said her husband. "I don't want to be alone with it afterdark."

I smiled upon him. Then:

"Bur-rother," said I. "I like to think that I shall be always withyou. Though in reality harsh leagues may lie between us, yet from theeast wall of the library, just above the type-writer, I shall smiledown upon your misshapen head a peaceful, forgiving smile. What athought! And you will look UP from your London Mail and—"

"Don't," said Berry, emitting a hollow groan. "I am unworthy.Unworthy." He covered his face with his hands. "Where is the IndianClub?" he added brokenly, "I don't mean the one in Whitehall Court.The jagged one with nails in it. I would beat my breast. Unworthy."

"Conundrum," said Jonah. "Where were the worthy worthies worthy?"

"I know," said I. "They were worthy where they were."

"Where the blaze is," said Berry.

"The right answer," said Jonah, "is Eastbourne."

Daphne turned to Jill. "Is the trick-cycle ready, dear? We're onnext, you know."

Here a servant came in and announced that a picture had come for me.We poured into the hall. Yes, it had come. In the charge of twomessenger-boys and a taxi, carefully shrouded in sackcloth. Berrytouched the latter and nodded approval. Then he turned to the boys.

"Are there no ashes?" he said.

We bore it into the dining-room and set it upon a chair by the side ofa window. I took out my knife and proceeded to cut the string.

"Wait a moment," said Jonah. "Where's the police-whistle?"

"It's all right," said Berry. "James has gone for the divisionalsurgeon."

I pulled off the veil. It was really a speaking likeness of Margery.

Two hours later the telephone went. I picked up the receiver. "Isthat six-o-four-o-six Mayfair?"—excitedly.

Margery's voice.

"It is," said I.

"Oh, is that you?"

"It is."

"Oh, d'you know, the most awful thing has happened."

"I know," I said heavily.

"Then you have got mine?"

"Yes."

"I suppose you guessed I've got yours?"

"You don't sound very sympathetic,"—aggrievedly.

"My dear, I'm—"

"You don't know what I've been through."

This tearfully.

"Don't I?" I said wearily.

CHAPTER VIII

THE BUSY BEERS

"They never sting some people," said Daphne.

"Perhaps," said I, "perhaps that is because they never get the chance.It doesn't offer, as they say."

"Oh, yes, they do. They simply don't sting them."

"'M. During Lent, I suppose?" I murmured drowsily. A May afternooncan be pleasantly hot.

"It's a sort of power they have," said Daphne mercilessly.

I opened my eyes. "The bees? It's a very offensive power."

"No, Boy, the people. They simply swarm all over some persons, andit's all right."

I shuddered.

"Perhaps," said Berry, looking at me, "perhaps you have that power.Who knows?"

"Who will ever know?" said I defiantly.

"We can easily find out," said Berry eagerly.

I sat up. "It is," I said, "just conceivable that I have that power.I do not recollect my immersion in the Styx, but it is, I suppose, notimpossible that, although I am not actually invulnerable, my sterlingqualities may yet be so apparent to the bee mind that, even were I soindiscreet as to lay hands upon their hive, they would not so farforget themselves as to assail me. At the same time, it is equally onthe cards that the inmates of the hive I so foolishly approached wouldbe a dull lot—shall we say, Boeotian bees? Or an impulsive lot, whosting first and look for qualities afterwards. In short, mistakes willoccur, and, as an orphan and a useful member of society, I must refuseto gratify your curiosity."

"I think you might try," said Daphne. "We want them to swarm awfully,and they might actually swarm on you. You never know."

"Pardon me, I do know. I have no doubt that they would swarm on me.No doubt at all."

"Well, then—"

"Disobliging of me not to let them, isn't it? And we could have thefuneral one day next week. What are you doing on Tuesday?"

"Well, we've got to move them from the skep into the new hive tonightsomehow," said my sister, "and you've got to help."

"Oh, I'Il help right enough."

"What'll you do?"

"I'Il go up the road and send the traffic round by West Hanger. Wedon't want to be hauled up for manslaughter."

Daphne turned to Berry.

"He'd better hold the skep, I think," she said simply.

"Yes," said her husband. "Or keep the new hive steady while we shakethe bees out of the skep into it. We've only got two veils, but hewon't want one for that."

"Of course not," said I with a bitter laugh. "In fact, I think I'dbetter wear a zephyr and running shorts. I shall be able to move withmore freedom."

"Ah, no," said Berry. "You must keep the trunk covered. The face andhands don't really matter, but the back and legs...That might bedangerous."

"Nonsense, nonsense," said I. "I'm not afraid of a bee or two. Howmany are there in the hive?"

"Twenty or twenty-five thousand," said Daphne. "Where are you going?"

"To set my house in order. Heaven forgive you, as I do. I havealready forgiven Berry. I should like Jonah to have my stop-watch."

As I walked across the lawn, I heard the wretched girl reading from TheBusy Bee-Keeper:

"Toads are among the bees' most deadly enemies. They will sit at themouth of a hive and snap up bees as fast as they emerge..."

Till then I had always been rather against toads.

I well remember the day on which I learned of the purchase of the bees.It had been raining the night before and all day the clouds hung lowand threatening. Misfortune was in the air. Their actual advent I donot recollect, for when I had heard that they were to arrive onSaturday night, I had made a point of going away for the week-end.

On my return I avoided the kitchen garden assiduously for several days,but after a while I began to get used to the presence of the bees, andtheir old straw home—I could see it from my bedroom—looked ratherpretty and comfortable.

Then Daphne, who never will leave ill alone, had announced that theymust be moved into a new hive.

In vain I characterized her project as impious, wanton, and indecent inturn.

A new hive, something resembling a Swiss chalet was ordered, and
with it came two pairs of gauntlets and some veils which looked likemeat-safes. Oh yes, and a 'smoker'.

The 'smoker' was the real nut.

At a distance of five paces this useful invention might have beenmistaken for a small cannon. As a matter of fact, it consisted of apair of bellows, with the nozzle, which was very large, on the topinstead of at the end. As touching the 'smoker' the method ofprocedure was as follows:—One lighted a roll of brown paper, blew Itout again and placed it in the nozzle. Then, telling the gardener'sboy to stand by with the salvolatile, one began to blow the bellows.Immediately the instrument belched forth clouds of singularly offensivesmoke.

One might think that, if this were done in the vicinity of a hive, sucha proceeding would tend to irritate the bees into a highly dangerous,if warrantable, frenzy, and that they would take immediate steps toabate the nuisance in their own simple way. But that, my brothers, iswhere we are wrong. Where bees are concerned, the 'smoker's' fumes areof a soporific and soothing nature. Indeed, before a puff of its smokea bee's naughty malice and resentment disappear, and the bee itselfsinks, gently humming, into the peaceful, contented slumber of a littleche-ild.

At least, that was what the books said.

Seven o'clock that evening found us huddled apprehensively togetheroutside the kitchen garden, talking nervously about the Budget. Allwas very quiet. A fragrant blue smoke stole up gently from the'smoker,' which I held at arm's length. Berry and Daphne were arrayedin veils and gauntlets. They reminded me irresistibly of Tenniel'sTweedledum and Tweedledee.

"Mind you're ready with the 'smoker' when I want it," said Berryshortly.

"I—er—I thought you'd take it with you," I said uneasily.

"Nonsense," said Daphne. "We can't do everything. You must be ready tohand it to Berry if the bees get infuriated."

"Thank you."

"Look here," said I, "I'm sure I shall do something wrong. You'd muchbetter have the gardener's boy."

"And have to pay him hundreds of pounds compensation. I don't think,"said Berry.

At the mention of compensation I started violently and dropped the'smoker'. When I had picked it up:

"Look here," I said, "I'll stand on the path and keep the beastly thingsmoking and if—if they should get—er—— excited, well—er—thereit'll be all ready for you."

"Where?" said Daphne suspiciously.

"On the path."

"And you?"

"I shall probably be just getting my second wind."

They looked at one another and sneered into their veils.

"It's murder," I said desperately, "sheer murder. You ask my death."

The stable clock chimed a quarter past seven.

We entered the kitchen garden in single file.

The hive was as silent as the tomb. It seemed almost wicked to—

All went well until Berry was on the point of lifting the skep.Suddenly something jumped in the wallflowers by Daphne, and she startedagainst her husband with a little scream. It was a toad. I feltbraver. We were not alone. But my pleasure was shortlived. Berry'shand had been upon the skep and the jolt had aroused the bees.

Uprose an angry murmur. I felt instinctively it was an angry one.

My brother-in-law had the 'smoker' in his hand. They told meafterwards that I had gone and given it him. That shows the state Iwas in. I was not responsible for my actions.

With all speed he applied the nozzle to the mouth of the skep. He wasin time to stop the main body, but a few had already emerged.

I stood as if rooted to the spot.

Immediately seven bees alighted on Berry's left hand. I saw them blackagainst the white of his gauntlet. Spellbound I watched him train the'smoker' upon them one by one. Three rolled slowly off before as manypuffs, intoxicated, doubtless, with delight and drunk with ecstasy.The fourth one he missed. The fifth moved as he was shooting and hemissed again. Then he got nervous and tried to please two at once.The sixth began to buzz and four more arrived.

Berry lost his head and began to shoot wildly. One settled on Daphne'sveil and she screamed. The hive began to hum again. With mistakengallantry, Berry left the bees on his gauntlet and turned to the one onhis wife's veil. The next moment she was reeling against the wall in aparoxysm of choking coughs. Some more of the twenty-five thousandbegan to emerge from the skep, and a moment later I was stung in thelobe of the right ear.

The pain, I may say, was acute, but it certainly broke the spell, and Iturned and ran as I have never run before.

Across the garden, down the drive, out of the lodge gates, over ahedge, with eighteen inches to spare, and across country like athoroughbred.

At last I plunged into a roadside wood almost on the top of a girl.She stared at me.

"Lie down," I gasped.

"Why?"

"Never mind why. Lie down for your life."

She lay down wonderingly beside me, as I sobbed and panted in theundergrowth.

At last, after cautioning her to keep quiet, I listened long andcarefully. The result was satisfactory. My escape was complete.

I turned my attention to the girl. She was sitting up now regarding mewith big eyes.

Her hair was almost hidden under a big-brimmed garden hat, but I couldsee her face properly. Her features were delicate and regular, and hermouth was small and red. Steady grey eyes. She was wearing a softblue dress of linen, and her brown arms were bare to the elbow. In herhand she had a posy of wild flowers. Little shoes of blue, untannedleather, I think it is. She was slender and lithe to look at, and theflush of health glowed in her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," I said. "It all comes of beeing. If we hadn't beenbeeing—"

"And yet he doesn't look mad," she said musingly.

"I'm not mad," I said. "I admit that if I had on a bonnet, I shouldhave several bees in it. Happily I lost it at the water jump. I'm abeer."

"A what?" she said, recoiling.

"A beer. At least I was one. Two other beers were with me—busybeers. Stay," I went on, "be of good beer—I mean cheer. I do notrefer to the beverage of that name. By 'beer' I mean one activelyinterested in bees."

She looked more reassured.

"Why were you running?"

I spread out my hands.

"The beggars were at my heels."

"By which you mean—"

"That the inmates of the hive in which I was just now activelyinteresting myself, resented such active interest and endeavoured tofall upon me in great numbers."

"And you escaped unhurt?"

"Except that at the outset I was winged in the ear, I have baulked themof their prey. Selah!"

"I had an idea that the person of a beer was sacred."

"So it is, my dear. But these were impious bees, dead to all sense ofright and wrong. They've done themselves in this time. Guilty ofsacrilege and brawling, they may shortly expect a great plague oftoads. It will undoubtedly come upon them. I shall curse themtomorrow morning directly after breakfast."

"Have you really been stung?"

"Every time."

"How exciting."

"Perhaps. But it's very overrated, believe me."

"Let me look."

I submitted readily. After a brief scrutiny my lady announced that shecould see the sting. Her fingers dealt very gently with the injuredlobe, and by dint of looking out of the far corners of my eyes, I justmanaged to command a prospect of one grey eye and half the red mouth.Her lips were parted and she was smiling a little.

"If I didn't love your mouth when you smile, I should be inclined tosuggest that it was nothing to laugh about," I said reprovingly.

The grey eye met mine. Then she laid a small cool hand firmly on mychin and pushed it round and away.

"Otherwise I can't see properly," she explained. Then, "I believe Ican dig it out," she said quietly.

I broke away at that and looked round. She was quite serious and beganto unfasten a gold safety-pin.

"Look here," I said hurriedly. "You're awfully kind; but, you know, asit is in, don't you think perhaps it had better stay in? I mean, afterall, a sting in the ear—"

She just waved my head round and began.

"Police," I said feebly. "Assault and wounding stalk in your midst.Police."

She really got it out very well...

"And so you live here?" she said, after a while.

"In the vicinity," said I. "About a mile and a half away as the crowflies or a beer runs—the terms are synonymous, you know. Large, grey,creepered residence, four reception, two bed, six bath, commandsextensive views, ten minutes from workhouse, etc., etc."

"Is it 'White Ladies?'"

"It is. From which you now behold me an outcast—a wanderer upon theface of the earth. But how did you know?"

"They'll be quiet by now," she said, ignoring my question. "The bees,I mean."

"I'm not so sure."

She rose to her knees, but I laid a hand on her shoulder.

"What are you going to do, lass?"

"I shall be late for dinner."

"Your blood be upon your head. The bees certainly will."

"Nonsense."

"I have no doubt they are at this moment going about like raging lionsseeking upon whom they may swarm."

"Must I pass your house?"

"To get to the village you must."

"Well I'm going, anyway."

I rose also. She stared at me and her glad smile settled it.

"One must die some time," said I, "and why not on a Wednesday?"

It was with no little misgiving that I stepped out into the road, andwalked beside her towards the village. As we approached White Ladies,a solitary bee sang by us and startled me. My nerves were on edge. Ibreathed more freely when we had passed the lodge gates. All was verystill. The village lay half a mile further on.

Suddenly she caught at my arm. Behind us came from a distance a faint,drowsy hum. Even as we listened, it grew louder.

The next second we were running down the straight white road, hand inhand and hell for leather.

She ran nobly, did the little girl. But all the time the hum wasgetting more and more distinct.

I wondered if the village would ever come. It seemed as if someone hadmoved it since the morning.

About the first house was the old Lamb Inn, with its large stable yard.There stood a lonely brougham, horseless with upturned shafts. Theyard was deserted.

She slipped on the cobbles, as we turned in, and almost brought me down.

"Go on," she gasped. "I'll—"

I picked her up and ran to the brougham. The humming was very loud.To fling open the door and push her in was the work of a moment. ThenI stumbled in after her and slammed the door. As I pulled up thewindow, several bees dashed themselves buzzing against it.

Neither of us spoke for a minute or two. We lay back against thecushions sobbing and gasping for breath, while more bees patteredagainst the windows.

Presently I stole a glance at my companion. She was leaning back inher comer, still breathing hard with her eyes shut. But she seemed toknow I was looking at her, for the soft lips parted in a smile. Butshe did not open her eyes.

I laid a hand on her arm.

"How's the ankle?" I said. "You turned it, didn't you?"

"Yes, but it's not very bad, thanks. I think you saved my life."

"I'm afraid that's putting it rather high. But you might have beenstung, so I'm thankful I was there. At the same time, I can't helpfeeling that it is to my company that you owe this—this unwarrantableassault. It's me they're after. They want to swarm on me. Or elsethey've recognized one of their enemies. They said, 'That's a beer,one of the beers. Let us slay him, and the intoxicants...' Exactly.Of course, Berry and Daphne are dead. It's really very tiresome. WithJill and Jonah both away, I don't know what on earth we shall do abouttennis tomorrow."

"I wish we could have some air," said the girl.

I opened the near side window an inch and stood by to close it ifnecessary. But the bees kept to the other side, where they crawledvenomously over the pane.

"What ever are we to do?" she said.

"Wait awhile," said I.

"Excuse me, but you don't happen to have such a thing as a toad on you,have you?"

"I hope not."

"That's a pity," I said thoughtfully.

"Sorry to disappoint you," she said. "Have you lost yours?"

"It's all right," said I. "Toads are with us. They simply hate bees.I'm going to get a pack of toads and hunt them. I shall advertise inthe Exchange and Mart tomorrow. How's the ankle?"

"A little stiff."

"Let me rub it, please. It's the only thing."

"Oh, no, thanks."

"Don't be ungrateful," I said. "What about my ear?"

She set a small foot on the opposite seat. I took off the little shoe.At length:

"I say," she said suddenly, "what about dinner?"

"Dinner!" I exclaimed. "Oh, dinner's gone right out. Simply not donein the best circles. Dinner indeed. My dear, you surprise me!"

"Ah, but you see I don't move in the best circles. I'm only verycommon and vulgar and actually get hungry sometimes. Shocking, isn'tit?"

"Never mind," I said encouragingly. "You are still young. If you beginto break off this indecent habit—"

"It seems I have begun. It's a quarter to nine. You know it is awful.If you had told me yesterday that to-night I should be sitting shut upin a horseless brougham at the back of an inn, alone with a strange manmassaging my foot, I should have—"

"Of course you would. But there you are, lass, you never know yourluck."

She looked at me darkly.

"Needs must when the devil drives," she said.

I looked at her.

"My skin may be thick," said I, "but it's not impenetrable. But youknew that."

With a light laugh she laid a hand on my arm.

"Don't be silly, lad, but put my shoe on again."

As I fitted it on, I heard footsteps in the yard outside.Instinctively we both shrank back into the brougham. It was quite darknow. Then a stable door grated and I heard a horse move.

"Who is it?" she whispered.

"Some ostler, I expect."

"What's he going to do?"

"I forget for the moment," said I. "I ought to know, too," I addedreflectively. "Wait a minute, I will consult the oracle."

So saying I made a pass or two and gazed intently into the gloom.

"Idiot," she murmured.

"Hush," I said. "Do not speak to the man at the wheel, and, above all,refrain from disconcerting the beer—— I mean seer. What do I see?A man—let him pass for a man—in motion. He moves. Yes," I saidexcitedly, "yes, it is a stable. The man moves across the stable. Lo,he leads forth a horse. There now." I turned to her triumphantly."The horse you fancy, madam, will also run, and the—ah—fee is oneguinea. You don't fancy any horse, madam? Ah, but you will. Verysoon too. Sooner, perhaps, than you—— But you can't help it, madam.The crystal cannot lie. Pleasant weather we're having, aren't we? No,I'm afraid I haven't change for a note, but I could send it on, madam.On. On Monday you for instance—"

"Stop, stop," she said, laughing and putting a little hand on my wrist."Listen. Oh, I say."

A horse was undoubtedly led out of the stable. Breathlessly we heardit come across the yard, and the next moment we felt rather than saw itput between the shafts of our brougham.

My companion uttered a stifled cry and set a hand upon the door handle.

"Sit still, lass," I whispered; "for the love of Heaven, sit still.He's going to drive us away."

"Oh, lad."

"We are in luck."

"But where are we going?"

"Heaven knows. But away from the bees, any way."

The horse was harnessed at last. The lamps were lighted—the while wecowered in the depths of the brougham, the coachman mounted heavilyupon the box and we rolled slowly out of the yard.

Round to the left we swung, away from White Ladies, slowly into thevillage and to the left again. I kept my companion informed as to ourwhereabouts.

"That's right," I said, "there's the butcher's. Splendid meat hesells—I beg his pardon—purveys. Wears wonderfully well. Alwaysfollows the hounds on one of his own saddles. And there's thetobacconist. You should see the plugs he keeps. I've got one I use asa paper-weight. We used to think it was a piece of the originalAtlantic cable. I've had it years now, and it's still goingstrong—very strong. It makes rather a good paperweight, imparts ahomely soupcon of farmyard life into one's correspondence, you know.The P.M. had to give up reading my letters—said they made him feel asif he'd gone to the country. Ah, we are now within a stone's throw ofthe church—a noble edifice, complete with one bell. Hullo! Stand bywith that ankle, lass; we're going to the doctor's. You'll like himrather. Incompetent, but genial. Shouldn't wonder if he wants topaint your foot. He is a bit of an artist in his way. When I cut myhead open last year, he painted the place all over with some of hisstuff. It certainly healed all right, but the way the wasps followedme—I might have been a private view. Now for it. You stand on thesteps quite naturally, and I'll manage the driver."

As we drew up to the porch, I opened the door of the vehicle and handedher out. Then I closed the door very carefully and looked at thecoachman. His eyes were protruding from his head, and he recoiled as Ilaid a hand the box.

"How much?" I said carelessly.

A choking sound came from between his lips, and the the next moment hehad flung off the opposite side and was peering into the depths of thebrougham. When he had felt all over the cushions, he shut the door andcame and looked at me over the back of the horse.

"Well, I'm drat—"

"Not yet," I said. "Don't anticipate. How much?"

"Six months' 'ard, I should say," he replied slowly, "and let down easyat that, gettin' into a private broom wiv yeller wheels an' frightenin'an honest man out of his blooming life. Look at the perspiration on myforehead."

He took off his hat, and bent his head toward the lamp, that my viewmight be the better.

"I had already noticed that you were rather hot," I said shortly, "buthad in error attributed it to the clemency of the weather. But pray becovered. I would not have your blood also upon my soul. The airstrikes cold."

"Go hon," he said with ponderous sarcasm. "Go hon. Hi am all ears."

"No, no," I said hastily, "not all. Do yourself justice, man."

"Justice," he said bitterly. "Justice. I wonder you 'ave the face to—"

"Be thankful that one of us has a face to have," I said shortly."Among other maladies you suffer from irritation of the palm. Yes?"

He stared at me.

"Don't know about the palm in particular," he said, after a while, "butbeing so much with the 'orses it do tend to—"

"That'll do," I said hurriedly. "Lo, here is a crown, by the vulgarerroneously denominated a 'dollar'. Take it, and drink the lady'shealth before you go to bed."

He took the coins greedily, and touched his hat. Then he partiallyundressed, in the traditional fashion, and put them away, apparently ina wallet next to his skin.

I turned to the girl.

"We'll go in, shall we?" I said. "They'll give us some food, even ifthey do want to paint us. And we can ring up your people. I expectthey'll be getting anxious."

"Oh, no. This morning they went up to town for the day, and they'veonly just about got back. And, as I was dining out, they won't expectme for another half-hour. But I think—"

"Dining out, lass? Good heavens, I'm afraid you'll have missed thesoup, won't you?"

"I thought they'd given up dinner in the best circles."

"Ah, yes. Of course. But what about the auction halma?"

"That's what's worrying me. And so I was going to say if you'll begood enough to tell me where I am, I'll make my way home to where I'mstaying."

Before I could reply, a voice that I recognized came through thedrawing—room window.

"Ah, how do you do, Mrs. Fletcher. Sorry we've taken to up so much ofyour husband's time. But he's done us proud. I had fourteen. Justcast your eye—your critical eye—over this arm and take your pick.How do you like them? Penny plain, twopence coloured. Walk up. Damn.I beg your pardon. Has the ambulance arrived?"

The voice was the voice of Berry.

"The cab's here," said another voice. "I can see the horse's nose."

I suddenly realized that Jonah had got the car and was just wonderingwhat was the matter with our own brougham, when:

"That's Daphne," said my companion. "Was it Berry who spoke first?"

I stared at her.

"Was it, lad?" she repeated.

"Yes, witch, it was. But how on earth?"

"I admit I'm only your second cousin and haven't seen Daphne foreighteen months, still, after being at school in France together fortwo years, we ought to have some dim recollection of each other'stones."

"Why," I said, "you're cousin Madrigal, who bit me on the nose, agedfour, under the nursery table. Are you sorry, now?"

"I did it in self-defence, lad."

"What was I doing?"

"You tried to kiss me."

I glanced round. The coachman had begun to undress again, and it wasvery dark.

"That was a long time ago," I said wistfully.

"Once bitten, twice shy," she said.

As I kissed her, the light went up in the hall.

"Put not your faith in proverbs," said I.

Dr. Fletcher opened the door.

"Hullo," said the worthy leech.

"Bring forth your dead," said I.

He laughed heartily.

"Have you come for them?"

"We have. Complete with plague-cart. Allow me introduce my cousin.Dr. Fletcher—Miss Madrigal Stukely. How are the deceased?"

"Flourishing," replied the leech. "I took eleven out of your sister."

"And fourteen out of Berry—that's twenty-five. I say, there's nochance of their getting bee hydrophobia, is there? And stinging us, oranything?"

At this moment Daphne appeared, smelling like a consulting room.

"Why, Madrigal darling, so Boy brought you to fetch us back; did he?I'm so awfully sorry Berry and I weren't there for dinner. I hope Boyentertained you properly."

I gasped. Then:

"Madrigal, were you—?"

Daphne was staring at me. So our brougham had been sent to fetch...

Madrigal laid her band on my arm.

"It's all right, Daphne dear. As I was going home to dress abouthalf-past seven, I met Boy—"

"Hurrying?" said Daphne.

"Now I come to think of it, he was walking rather—"

"A nice brisk pace," said I.

"Be quiet," said Daphne, "or I'Il sting you."

"Well," resumed Madrigal, "I met him and he explained—"

"About dinner?"

"About dinner. So we didn't either of us dress. In fact we didn'tdine either; we were—er..."

"So anxious about you and Berry," I suggested.

My brother-in-law put his head round the door and looked at me.

"I remember," he said slowly, "I remember catching a fleeting glance—avery fleeting glance—of the anxious look upon your face as you clearedthe second celery bed. At the time I thought—but never mind. I nowrealize that the solicitude there portrayed was on our account. Woman,I fear we judged your brother too hastily."

"I was going for assistance," I said.

"And lost your way," said Berry. He turned to his wife: "M'dear, I'mafraid he will always remain a worm. What a thought."

"Make it toads," said I. "It's safer."

CHAPTER IX

A POINT OF HONOUR

"The point is—" I began.

The girl looked up quickly.

"What?"

"This," said I. "Would you be alarmed or offended if I put myservices—"

"Such as they are."

"Such as they are, thank you, at your disposal?"

"Is that an offer or a question?"

"Neither," said I. "It's a point."

She knitted her brows.

"What does one do with points?"

"One deals with them."

"M'm. Well, you can see what you can do, if you like. You mustn't berough with the bag. It's sensitive, for all that it's made of pigskin."

"May I have the alleged key? Thank you. It is not by force, but bypersuasion, that I—ahem—gain my points."

"I should think you're an only child."

"I am," I said. "That's why."

We were in a first-class compartment on the London South WesternRailway, rushing away from London, down to Dorsetshire, with itsheights and woodland and its grey stone walls. There had been sometrouble at Waterloo, and it was only at the last moment that an'engaged' label had been torn off our carriage window and we had beenpermitted to enter. The other occupant of the carriage—an aged memberof the House of Lords—after regarding us with disapproval for ninetymiles, had left the train at the last station. Then my lady had turnedto her nice new dressing—bag and had sought to open it. In vain shehad inserted a key. In vain she had attempted to insert other keys,obviously too large. Therein she had shown her feminism. I love tosee a woman do a womanly thing. Finally she had sighed and pushed herdark hair back from her temples with a gesture of annoyance. The timeseeming ripe, I had spoken.

Now I turned to the obstructive wards. All she had done was todouble-lock it, and I had it open in a moment.

"Thank you so much."

"Not at all. I was brought up as a burglar. What a blessed thing theold earl's left us."

"I suppose it is."

"Thank you so much."

"Not at all."

"You see if I had offered my services—such as they are—in hispresence, he would probably have challenged me, and stuck your glove inhis hat."

She laughed.

"He looked rather like it, didn't he?"

"And, of course, according to his lights, you should still beendeavouring to pull the alarm cord."

"Instead of which—"

"You are going to put your feet up and smoke one of my cigarettes.It's not a smoking carriage so you'll be able to taste the tobacco."

"Is this another point?" she said, smiling.

"No," said I. "It's a certainty."

Her dark hair was smooth and shining and full of lights and set off herfresh complexion to perfection. This was not at all brown, but hereyes were. Great, big ones these, with a star in each of them forlaughter. Her nose turned up ever so slightly, and she had a littleway of tilting her dainty chin, as if to keep it company. Red lips.Presently she looked at me through the smoke.

"Are you going to Whinnerley?" she said.

"Yes, please."

"To the Hall?"

"Even as you are."

"How did you know?"

"The sensitive bag had a label."

"Oh, I believe you're one of Berry and Co."

"Look here," I said, "you mustn't judge me by my company. If myrelatives and connections by marriage like to make themselves infamous,that is no fault of mine. They have made their beds. Let them lie onthem. I will recline upon my humble, but separate couch."

"What have they done?"

"Notorious wrong. Only last week, for instance, they mocked me."

"No?"

"They did, indeed—during the savoury. As part-owner, I craved a seatin the car. They scorned my request. Who was I? To-day, they drivefrom Norfolk to Dorset. But for their swabhood they would have pickedme up in London on the way."

"On the what?"

"I admit it would have necessitated a slight deviation, but againstthat you must set off the tone my presence lends— Forgive me, butthere's a wasp on your left leg."

She sat up with a cry.

"Oh, take it off! Take it off!"

"Its taste—"

"Bother its taste. Take it off! Is it crawling—"

"Up? Yes. Don't move. Draw your dress tight."

Obediently, she drew her dress close about her, perhaps half an inchbelow a knee that Artemis might have been proud to display. I let thewasp reach the dark blue cloth. Then I seized him. As I put him outof the window, he naturally stung me. Before I had time to apologizefor the expletive which escaped me, she had caught my hand.

"Which finger is it?"

"The second. South and by east of the nail."

"Here?"

"Yes."

"Shall I press the poison out?"

"You can amputate it and sear the stump if you like. Good heavens,your necklace is undone at the back."

"It isn't?"

"It is really."

"Well, do it up with your left hand. I'll attend to the sting."

It was at this interesting juncture that the door opened and a footmanstood in the August afternoon sunshine, touching his cap and staringfixedly down the platform. On a station lamp was 'Whinnerley Bluff'.

How we got out of the train and into the car, neither of us ever knew.When I recovered my senses, she was sitting as far away as possible inan open landaulette, staring at my dressing-case and her bag, andmoaning.

"Whatever must they think? Whatever must they think?"

"They can't think we've been married long," said I musingly. "Theyonly do that sort of thing on the honeymoon."

She shivered.

"I wouldn't mind if they thought we were married, but they know wearen't."

"I suppose they do."

"Of course they do. Or they will."

Here some children cheered as we went by. She bowed abstractedly, andI raised my hat, as in a trance.

"What's this village?" I said.

"Oh, Whinnerley, I suppose. No, it isn't."

"Here. Where are we going?" said I.

As I spoke, we swung through lodge gates I had never seen before, whiletwo gardeners and a smiling woman beamed delightedly upon us. Westared at them in return. It was all wrong. This wasn't the Hall, andit wasn't Whinnerley. There was some mistake. The car must have beensent to meet somebody else—somebody like us. And we—

I think we saw the streamer at the same moment. It was a large whiteone, slung across the curling drive from one tree to another. On itwere the words: "Welcome to the Happy Pair."

As we left it behind, we turned and faced one another. It was all asclear as daylight. We were the wrong pair. The right pair had nevercome. We had travelled in their 'engaged' carriage. We had alightedat their station—Whinnerley Bluff—doubtless some new halt, builtsince my last visit. We were in their car. We had received cheers andsmiles meant for them. We were being greeted by a banner for them setup. And we were on the point of arriving at the house lent to them fortheir honeymoon. Thank you.

Suddenly my companion's words flashed across my mind.

"I wouldn't mind if they thought we were married." I caught her arm.

"Do you see what has happened?" I said.

She nodded frightenedly.

"They think we're a married couple—married this morning."

She shivered again.

"Let them go on thinking it."

She stared at me.

"Play up," I cried. "You know what you said just now. Well, here'sour chance. Only play up for an hour or two. The real ones can'tarrive before seven. There isn't a train before then. We can slipaway after tea. Whinnerley proper can't be far. Play up, my dear,play up. It's a chance in a lifetime."

A wonderful light came into her eyes.

"Shall we?" she whispered.

"Yes, yes. Say you will."

She looked away suddenly over the sunlit park. Then she spoke veryslowly.

"I'm trusting you rather a lot, aren't I?" she said.

"Yes," I said quietly.

"But since you make such a point—"

I took her hand. As I raised it, she turned, and we looked each otherfull in the eyes.

Said I: "This point is a point of honour."

Then I kissed her small, gloved fingers.

A moment later the car swept out of the avenue, under an old gatewayand into a fair courtyard, which I seemed to have seen before in thepages of Country Life. The house was beautiful. There it lay, in thehot sunshine, all grey and warm and peaceful—a perfect specimen of theTudor period, and about its walls a tattered robe of wisteria. Itseemed to be smiling in its sleep. As we drove up to the great stonesteps, the studded door was opened and a manservant appeared. The carstopped.

"Oh, I'm afraid," whispered my companion.

"Play up," I whispered back. "It's all right."

"No, no. I'm afraid. I don't know what to say to them."

The footman opened the door, and I got out. As I handed her out, herhand was trembling terribly. Suddenly there was a scrambling noise,and a great black and white Newfoundland came bounding down the steps.When he saw us, he stopped.

"Oh, you darling." said my companion.

The dog looked at her for a moment uncertainly. Then he threw up hishead and barked twice, wagging his tail. She put out her hand andstroked his head. The great fellow whined with pleasure. Then he tookher hand in his mouth and turned up the steps once more.

"Oh, look!" she cried delightedly. "He's leading me in."

The situation was saved. I followed thankfully. As I entered the hall:

"He has taken to your ladyship," a gentle housekeeper was saying."It's not many he welcomes like that."

The woman bowed to me, and turned towards the staircase. MechanicallyI took the two letters from the salver the footman was holding out.Then I thought of something. I looked at the girl. She was half-wayup the stairs.

"Er—darling," I said.

She swung round and stopped, flushing furiously. Then:

"Yes, dear?"

I went to where she was standing. The housekeeper was twenty pacesaway at the top of the stairs. I spoke as carelessly as I could, andin an undertone.

"They will want to unpack your things. Also they will soon know thatthere is no luggage. Ours, of course, went on to Whinnerley proper.Say your maid is coming on with it by the next train, and that she willunpack when she comes."

"All right."

I returned to the hall. Not to be outdone by the housekeeper, thefootman was most solicitous. He led me to an oak-panelled lavatory,turned on the water, and held a towel ready while I washed. Then hebrushed me all over, and flicked the dust from my shoes. With theslightest encouragement, I believe he would have shaved me. Then heled me to the 'reception rooms' in turn. When the tour was over, hebrought me cigarettes and asked me if I would like tea served in thegarden.

"By all means," I said.

"Tell her ladyship she will find me out of doors."

"Yes, sir."

I passed through the dining-room and on to a great lawn. The gardenwas in exquisite order. Everywhere there was a profusion of flowers,and on all sides beyond a sunk fence lay the great park. Far in a coolglade I saw some deer browsing. On the left, I could see the drive bywhich we had come. Lazily I traced its line curling away between thetrees. Suddenly something red and moving caught my eye. For a momentthe trees hid it from view. Then I saw it again—just a flash of redin the avenue—moving towards the house. I watched it curiously. Itapproached a small gap. The next second there appeared a telegraph boyupon a red bicycle. Thank you. Instinctively I started to head himoff. I had to run to do it, but I prayed that no one was looking. Wereached the gate house together.

"Telegram?" said I.

He dismounted and gave it to me like a lamb. It was addressed toMaulfry Tower, Winnerley Bluff, and it read: Missed train arrive 7.10Tagel.

"No answer," said I. Then I remembered the cheering children, and gavehim a shilling. He thanked me shyly and sped away to the lodge gates.I turned to see the girl approaching, and went to meet her.

"For him, ginger beer," said I; "for us, tea. For them, when theyarrive, the wagonette. They will not send the car for your maid. But,never mind, they have a good time coming. Isn't it all beautiful!"

"Of course," said she, "after this I shall go into a convent—that is,after I have served my term of imprisonment. I can never face theworld again."

"Why again?" said I. "You see, my dear, we're not facing it now. Ifwe were, it would be different. But now we're in a backwater. In anhour or two we shall be on the broad stream of Life once more. Thecurrent is very strong sometimes. But here there is no current, norany time, nor action. Only the sun makes shining patches on the water,while now and again dragon-flies dart through the sleepy hum of insectlife, like bright thoughts flashing across a reverie. Now, isn't thatnice? I really don't know how I do it. But to resume. No one knew ofour turning aside—no one will see us return. For us the universe isstanding still. And there's the tea. Come, madam wife, sit by myside, and let the world slip; we shall ne'er be younger."

She looked at me critically, bending her brows. Then:

"I should never have married you," she said, "if I had known there wasinsanity in your family."

Tea was set out under the trees on the lawn, between the house and thedrive. On three sides roses and honey-suckle screened the table fromview. The fourth lay open to the sinking sun and the park and thedistant hills. The footman had been joined by a butler, who bowed atour approach. In silence she poured out the tea. Then:

"Sugar?" she said, without thinking.

"Ahem! Not to—day, thanks, dear. I had mine in the champagne."

As the footman handed me the cucumber sandwiches, his hand shook alittle. I went on ruthlessly:

"Talking of which, did you notice the detectives?"

"No," she said. "What about them?"

"Wall-eyed, my dear, all of them. Cost me two-and-six extra, but Ithought it was worth it. Worries the thieves awfully, you know. Theycan't tell whether they're watching the fish-slice or the 'Longfellow'.And all the time they're really counting the marron glaces. It'scalled 'getting the wall—eye.'"

I stooped to straighten my spat. When I looked up, the servants haddisappeared. I glanced through the leaves to see them pass into thedining-room.

"Gone?" said the girl. I nodded.

"Thank goodness! And now, who are you? I believe one is supposed toget to know one's husband on the honeymoon."

I took one of the letters the footman had given me out of my pocket.

"I am," said I, "Sir Peter Tagel. That's why you're 'my lady'.

"Is it really? And now, your alias?"

"I'll tell you when we separate. Meanwhile, I do hope I shall make youhappy. When the time comes I shall win you bread. To do this I shall,of course, have to leave your side. But that's for after. Tillthen—but I fear my thoughtless reference to our parting has unnervedyou. You are overwrought. Lean upon me. That's what I'm for. I amyour man—your husband. Where's that come from?"

"Surrey, I should think."

I frowned at my cigarette. "I don't think you're honouring me enough,"I said. "Of course, it's early days yet, but—good heavens! Whatabout the ring?"

"What about it?"

"Well, they'll see you haven't—"

I stopped, for a smile was playing about her lips as she lay back,looking into the elm-tops. Then I caught her cool, left hand. Fromthe third finger a plain gold ring winked at me. I stared at it. Tillwe arrived at the house, her hands had been gloved. I balanced herhand in my palm, and looked at her.

"There is," I said, "a question."

"Yes?"

"Yes. Are you married?"

"You've been telling me I am for the last half—hour."

"Yes, but are you really?"

"Peter, dear!" This in a tone of gentle rebuke.

I ground my teeth.

"And you're going to win me bread, you know—nice brown bread."

I rose, and stood in front of her. Still the faint smile on the redmouth.

"Look at me," I commanded.

"It wasn't an 'obey' marriage, was it?" This dreamily.

"Was that ring on that finger when we were in the train?"

Slowly she got up and faced me, her eyes six inches from mine, butstill looking away over my head, up at the high elms. Then she put herhands on my shoulders.

"Oh, Saint Anthony," I whispered.

The smile deepened. Then:

"I'll tell you when we separate," she said.

For one dear, short half-hour we had wandered in the park. The sunshotglades hung out an invitation it would have been churlish to refuse.And so in and out of the tall bracken, under the spreading oaks, closeto the gentle-eyed deer, we had roamed for a while at will, carelessly,letting the world slip. Sir Peter and his lady taking the air.

And now we were back in the gentle garden, facing the old grey house,watching the smoke rise from a tall chimney, a slight, straight wispagainst the background of blue. And—the sun was low.

I sighed. Somehow it seemed such a pity. I glanced at my companion.She looked rather wistful.

"Why is everything all wrong?" I said suddenly.

She smiled a little.

"Is it?"

"Of course it is. Haven't we got to slink away and leave all this? Mydear, it's all utterly wrong. The time is out of joint—dislocated."

"It isn't really, Peter."

I looked at her quickly. Her eyes were wide open now, and very bright.

"You're right, lass," said I. "If one goes up a backwater, I supposeone's got to come down again. Only—

"Only it's been a rather short backwater, hasn't it?"

"It has been very sunny, Peter."

A pause, then:

"It was sweet of you to say that," I said. "Thank you." But, as Ispoke, I did not look at her. I dared not.

A clock chimed the three-quarters. A quarter to seven. Thank you. Amoment later we were arranging our escape.

When retrieved, our impedimenta would consist of her parasol anddressing-bag, and my dressing-case. My stick and gloves were in thehall, and I decided to let them go. Her bag was in a fair bedroom—alittle brass knocker upon the door—hard by the top of the staircase.She had heard them put my case in the room adjoining. Very well. Shewas to sit—loll, if she liked—in the arbour, where tea had beenserved, while I ventured indoors and secured the luggage. Once acrossthe lawn, I was to drop it over the sunk fence close to the drive.Together we could then stroll towards the lodge gates. I should leaveher half—way, come by the wood to the fence, take up our chattels, andjoin her again somewhere on the verge of the grounds close to the lodgegates. Then we could scramble over the oak palisade into the road.

As I strolled towards the dining-room, wheels crunched on thegravel-drive. I turned to see a wagonette swinging down the avenue.

There was a writing-table in the bedroom window, and before I crept outof the room I sat down and wrote a few lines:

"To THE HOUSEKEEPER—Lady Pan and I regret the unfortunate confusionfor which a certain similarity of name and title has been responsible.

"(SIR PETER PAN.)

Then I took a five-pound note from my case and slipped it into theenvelope. I addressed the latter, and put it with the two letters andthe telegram on the dressing-table.

On my way indoors and upstairs I had encountered no one. Incidentally,I should not have minded if I had. But now it was a very differentmatter. Mentally and physically the luggage embarrassed me. Myappearance proclaimed an exodus—suggested a flight. Of course, if Idid meet a servant, I should try and bluff my way out; but—— Therewas no doubt about it this was one of the tighter places.

I lighted a cigarette. Then I put the parasol under my arm and openedthe door. Not a sound. I picked up her bag and my case, and started.

I am sure there is not another edifice in England with so many creakingboards. They shrieked beneath me at every step. At the top of thestairs I put down the luggage and listened carefully. As yet therewere no lights burning, and it was more than dusk in the hall below. Iwiped the sweat off my forehead, and began the descent. At the bottomI ran into the footman. He was very nice about it, though I am certainthe dressing-case bruised his shin. Then:

"Excuse me, sir," he said, and switched on the light.

And with the light came the brain-wave.

"I want the car at once," I said. "There's been some terrible mistake.This isn't our luggage. I don't know whose it is. The label on thisbag says 'Whinnerley Hall', and that's not my dressing-case. I'm noteven sure that this is her ladyship's parasol."

"Not—not yours, sir?"

"Certainly not. Beastly things." I flung them down in the hall.

"Never seen them before in my life. Order the car, man; order the car.I want to take them back to the station and find out what's become ofour own."

The footman fled. When the housekeeper appeared, breathless, I wassitting on a table, swinging the parasol and smoking angrily.

"Is the car coming?" I demanded.

"Yes, indeed, sir. It'll be round in a moment. What a dreadful thingto have happened, sir. I can't understand—"

"Neither can I, except that they're both something like our things.But look at that label. This isn't Whinnerley Hall, is it?"

"No, indeed, sir."

"Well, have them put in the car. I'll go and find her ladyship. I'mafraid she'll be terribly upset."

I flung out of the house. Thirty seconds later I was explaining thingsto an open-mouthed girl in the arbour. As I finished, I heard the carcoming round from the garage.

"Come along, dear." I glanced at my watch. "With any luck we shalljust catch the seven-ten on to Whinnerley. Remember, you're terriblyupset and simply frantic about your jewellery, especially the tiaraUncle George gave you. Do you think you could cry? I should have tokiss you then."

Again the faint smile. The next minute we were in the car, rushingdown the avenue. There was the white banner, hanging very still now,for the faint breeze had died with the day. As we approached the lodgegates I leaned forward and looked across her—she was on myright—looked away over the park to where the sun had set. The sky wasflaming.

"Sic transit," said I.

"Good-bye, backwater," said she.

Her voice was not unsteady, but there was that in her tone that made melook at her. Her lashes were wet.

As the car swung out of the gates, our hands touched. I took hers inmine and held it. Then I started. It was the left hand, but there wasno ring upon its fingers. I tightened my hold. So we sat for twominutes or more. Then:

"Do you think they would see?" I said, glancing at the chauffeur andgroom.

"I'm afraid they might. But—"

"But what, darling?"

"It wouldn't matter very much if they did, would it?"

We reached the station simultaneously with the seven ten. As the groomopened the door—

"Come along, dear." I handed her out. Turning to the servant, "Bringthe bag and the dressing—case," I added. "Quick!"

"Yes, sir."

A small boy waved an implement and uttered a feeble protest abouttickets, but we thrust past him on to the platform. There I lookedround wildly.

"Where's Delphine?" I cried.

"I don't believe she's come," wailed my companion.

I turned to the groom.

"You'd better go back," I said. "Put those things down and go back tothe car, in case we miss her ladyship's maid. Don't let her go off inthe wagonette."

"Very good, sir."

He put the luggage on a seat and ran back to the exit. Exactlyopposite to where we were standing was a first-class carriage. As theguard's whistle was blown:

"Have you got my bag, Peter?" said a plaintive voice.

"Yes, m'dear," and Sir Peter and Lady Tagel passed down the platform.We watched them greedily.

The train began to move.

"The last lap," said Berry. "Courage, my travel-stained comrades.Where was it we broke down? Oh, yes, Scrota Gruff. Such a sweet name,so full of promise, so—"

Then he took his head in and pulled up the window.

"Fancy you two being in the next carriage all the time," said Daphne."I expect Boy's introduced himself, Julia dear. Yes, I thought so.Still for what it's worth, my brother—Lady Julia Lory."

Which is why she's 'my lady'. Though she always says it isn't.

CHAPTER X

PRIDE GOETH BEFORE

"Who is Silvia? What is she?
That all her swains commend he.
Holy, fair, and wise is she;
The heaven such grace did lend her,
That she might admired be."

The song and its melody floated out into the night, away and over thesleeping countryside. In no way breaking the silence; rising up out ofit, rather. It was as if Nature dreamed as she lay sleeping, a dreamclear-cut, melodious. Over all the moon hung full, turning the worldto silver. Never had music so fairy a setting.

"Then to Sylvia let us sing,
That Silvia is excelling,
She excels each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling
To her let us garlands bring."

Half-past eleven o'clock of a fine moonlit night, and I was alone withthe car all among the Carinthian Alps. It was for Fladstadt that I wasmaking. That was the Bairlings' nearest town. Their place, St.Martin, lay twenty odd miles from Fladstadt. But in the town peoplewould show me the way. At St. Martin I should find Daphne and theothers, newly come from Vienna this afternoon. Friends of Jonah's, theBairlings. None of us others knew them.

At ten o'clock in the morning I had slid out of Trieste, reckoning toreach Fladstadt in twelve hours. And, till I lost my way, I had comewell. I had lost it at half-past nine and only discovered that I hadlost it an hour later. It was too late to turn back then. I tried toget on and across by by-roads—always a dangerous game. Just when Iwas getting desperate I had chanced on a signpost pointing to the townI sought. The next moment one of the tires had gone.

The puncture I did not mind, The car had detachable wheels, and one wasall ready, waiting to be used. But when I found that I had nojack...Better men than I would have sworn. The imperturbable Jonahwould have stamped about the road. As for Berry, with no one there tosuffer his satire, suppressed enmity would have brought about acollapse. He would probably have lost his memory.

There was nothing for it, but to drive slowly forward on the flat tire.When I came to a village I could rouse an innkeeper, and if the placedid not boast a jack, at least sturdy peasants should raise the carwith a stout pole. Accordingly, I had gone on.

For the first five miles I had not lighted on so much as a barn. Thensuddenly I had swung round a bend of the road to see a great whitemansion right ahead of me. The house stood solitary by the roadside,dark woods rising steep behind. No light came from its windows.Turreted, white-walled, dark-roofed in the moonlight, it might havebeen the outpost of some fairy town. The building stood upon theleft-hand side of the way, and, as I drew slowly alongside, wonderingif I dared knock upon its gates for assistance, I found that house androad curled to the left together. Round the bend I had crept, close tothe white facade. As I turned, I saw a light above me, shining outover a low balcony of stone. I had stopped the car and the engine, andstepped on tiptoe to the other side of the road. From there I couldsee the ceiling of a tall, first-floor room, whose wide, open windowsled on to the balcony. I saw no figure, no shadow. For a minute ortwo I had heard no sound. Then, with no warning, had come an exquisitetouching of keys and a girl's voice.

"To her let us garlands bring."

The melody faded and ceased. The refrain melted into the silence. Fora moment I stood still, my eyes on the balcony above. Then I slippednoiselessly to the car, picked up a rug from the back seat and laid it,folded small, on the edge of the car's back. Half on the paddedleather and half on the cape hood, strapped tight, I laid it. Standingupon this perilous perch, I was just able to lay my fingers upon thecold edge of the balcony's floor. With an effort I could grasp one ofthe stone balusters. An idea occurred to me, and I got carefully down.One of the luggage-carrier's straps was six feet long. I had it loosein a moment. A minute later and I had wheedled it round the baluster Icould clutch. Buckled, it made a loop three feet in length that wouldhave supported a bullock. I was about to soar, when I remembered thecar. I jumped down once more, turned the key of the switch, andslipped it into my pocket. No one could steal her now. The nextsecond I had my foot in the thong.

I sat on the coping, looking into the room. Broad and lofty it was,its walls hung with a fair blue paper. A handsome tapestry, looped upa little on one side, masked the tall double doors, and in the farcorner stood a great tiled stove for burning wood. From the ceilingwas hanging a basin of alabaster—an electric fitting, really. Thepowerful light of its hidden lamps spread, softened, all about thechamber. The blue walls bore a few reproductions of famous pictures.Meisonnier seemed in high favour, while Sir Joshua's Nellie O'Briensurveyed the salon with her quiet, steady gaze. A great bowl of freshflowers stood on the grand piano.

The girl herself was sitting half on the edge of an old gate-table inthe middle of the room. The toe of one rosy slipper touched thepolished boards, and her other foot swung gently to and fro. One ofher short sleeves she had pushed up to the shoulder and was lookingcritically at a scratch, which showed red, high up on her round, whitearm. A simple evening frock of old-rose colour, dainty old goldslippers to keep her feet. Her skin was wonderfully white, her hairdark and brown. This was cut straight across her forehead in Frenchfashion, and then brought down and away over the ears. Her face wastowards me, as she examined her arm. I could see she was very pretty.

"Don't you think you ought to apologize?" she said suddenly.

Her words took me by surprise. For a moment I did not answer.

"Eh?" she said, looking up.

"Yes," I said, "I do. Fact is, I haven't any, and the gardens are allshut now."

"Any what?" she said, letting the sleeve slip back into its place.

"Garlands, Silvia."

She smiled for an instant. Then:

"How dare you come up like this?"

"I wanted to see what Silvia was like."

She stifled a little yawn.

"You heard me say she was holy, fair and wise."

"And excelling, I know. But the second verse asks,

"Is she kind as she is fair?"

"Well?"

"I came up to see if she was."

"And is she?"

"I don't think she is quite."

"Can you get down all right?"

"In fact, I'm sure she isn't," I said. "But then—"

"What?"

"She'd have to be most awfully kind to be that, Silvia. Good-bye."

"I say," said Silvia.

"Yes? I said, with one leg over the balustrade.

"As you're here, if you would like to come in and sit down for alittle—I mean, I don't want to seem inhospitable."

"I knew it," said I. "I knew she was, really."

"Goodbye, Silvia. Thank you very, very much all the same. I've foundout what I wanted to know."

I slipped over the coping and set my foot in the thong. There was arustle of silk and a quick step on the balcony. Then two soft handstook hold of my wrists. I looked up at the big eyes, the face white inthe moonlight, the dark, straight-cut hair.

"Wait!" she said. "Who are you and where do you come from?"

"My name's Valentine," said I. "I am a gentleman of Verona."

The small mouth twitched. "Be serious," she said. I told her my nameand spoke of my run from Trieste, adding that I sought Fladstadt andSt. Martin. She heard me in silence. Then:

"Are you tired?" she said quietly.

"A little."

"Then I tell you that you may come in and rest for a while. Yes, andtalk to me. Presently you can go on. I will show you the way."

She let go my wrists and stood up, clasping her hands behind her head.

"You're very hospit—"

"It isn't a question of hospitality or anything else," she said slowly."I just tell you that you may come in if you want to."

I gazed at the slim, straight figure, the bare bent arms, the softwhite throat. Then I drew myself up and bestrode the coping.

"Of course," I said, "this is a dream. In reality I am fast asleep inthe car. Possibly I have met with an accident and am stillunconscious. Yet your hands felt warm..."

"And your wrists very cold, sir. Come along in and sit down. Even ifyou are dreaming I suppose you'll be able to drink some coffee if Igive it you."

"If you give it me."

I drew up the thong and followed her into the room. She motioned me tosit in a deep chair and put cigarettes by my side. Then she lightedthe lamps that were set beneath two little silver coffee-pots, standingon a tray on the gate-table. I watched her in silence. When the lampswere burning, she turned and seated herself on the table as I had seenher first. She regarded me curiously, swinging that little right leg.

"I shouldn't have liked you to think me unkind," she said, with a gravesmile.

I rose to my feet.

"Silvia," I said.

"Sir"

"I do not know what to say. Yet I want to say something. I think youare very gentle, Silvia. If I were old, I think the sight of you wouldmake me feel young again, and if Shakespeare had known you, I think hewould have written more sonnets and fewer plays."

Silvia spread out deprecating white arms and bowed low.

"I doubt it," she said. "But I know he would have given me acigarette."

"I beg your pardon," said I, handing her the box.

When I had given her a light, she turned again to the coffee.

"It ought to be hot enough now, I think. D'you mind using my cup? Idon't take sugar."

"It will be a privilege, Silvia."

"Milk?"

"Please."

The hot cafe-au-lait was very grateful. Despite the season, my longdrive through the mountain air had left me a little cold. I took myseat on an arm of the deep chair. Outside, somewhere close at hand, aclock struck twelve.

"The witching hour," said I. "How is it you're not in bed and asleep,Silvia?"

"Sleep! What with the noise of passing cars?"

"I forgot," said I. "The continuous roar of the traffic here must bevery trying. The congestion between here and Villach is a disgrace. Imet three carts in the last forty odd miles myself. Can't something bedone about it?"

"-And the curiosity of cold-wristed burglars—By the way, I can't getover your climbing up like that, you know. It's all right, as ithappens, and I'm rather glad you did, but this might have been abedroom or—or anything."

"Or a bathroom. Of course it might. But then, you see, you veryseldom find a piano in the bathroom nowadays, Silvia. Incidentally,what a sweet room this is."

"Do you like my pictures?"

"Awfully. Especially the one on the gate-table."

My lady blew smoke out of a faint smile. Then:

"If it comes to that, there's rather a good one on the arm of yourchair," she said.

"Yes. By the same artist, too. But the one on the table knocks it.That'll be hung on the line year after year."

"What line?"

"At the Academy of Hearts. I beg your pardon, my dear. It slippedout."

Silvia threw back her dainty head and laughed merrily. Presently:

"But the one on the table's damaged," she said. "Didn't you see thescratch?"

"And the one on the chair wants cleaning badly. In its present statethey wouldn't hang it anywhere except at Pentonville. But the scratch.How did you get it?"

"Ah! That was the Marquis. We were by the window, and when youslipped that strap round, he jumped like anything. He was in my arms,you see."

"I'm awfully sorry; but do you often embrace nobles, and how do you saygood-bye to dukes? I mean to say, I haven't got my patent with me, andmy coronet's in the store—I mean, strong room; but anyone who doesn'tknow me will tell you—Besides, I never scratch."

"The Marquis is a Blue Persian."

"These foreign titles," I murmured scornfully.

"Don't be patronizing," said Silvia. "You know where Pride goes.Besides, I've met some very nice counts."

I leaned forward. "I know. So've I. Barons, too. The last Istruck's doing seven years now. But you're English, Silvia. English,d'you hear? I'll bet they're all over you out here. I know them. I'ma fool, but I don't like to think of your—I mean, I'd rather be anEnglish—er—"

"Burglar?"

We both laughed, and I got up. "Silvia," I said, "tell me the best wayto Fladstadt and turn me out while there is yet time."

"What do you mean?"

"This. I've already been in love with you for a quarter of an hour.In another ten minutes I shall be sitting at your feet. Half an hourlater—"

"You will be just running into Fladstadt. It's straight on. You can'tmiss the way."

"And St. Martin? Have you ever heard of it?"

She puckered her brows.

"Isn't that where some English people have a place? Peoplecalled—er—Waring, is it?"

"Bairling," said I.

"Bairling. That's it. Let's see. I'm afraid it's some miles fromFladstadt."

"Twenty, I'm told."

"About that."

"And this is how far?"

"From Fladstadt? About twenty-three."

I groaned. "Forty-three miles to go, and a flat tire," I said.

"Now far's the next village?"

"Why?"

"I want to get another wheel on."

"If you like to wait here a little longer, my brother'll be back withthe car. He's on the way from Fladstadt now. That's why I'm sittingup. He'll give you a jack."

"You're awfully good, Silvia. But have you forgotten what I said?"

"About sitting at my feet? No, but I don't think you meant it. If Idid, I should have rung long ago."

"Thank you," said I.

"Of course," she went on; "you're only a burglar, but you are—English."

"Yes, Silvia. I mightn't have been, though."

"You mean, I didn't know whether you were English or not, till afteryou'd climbed up? Nor I did. But one of the men's up, and there's abell-push under the flap of the table."

She slipped a hand behind her. "I'm touching it now," she added.

"I wondered why you didn't sit in a chair," I said, with a slow smile.A deep flush stole over the girl's features. For a moment she lookedat me with no laughter in her eyes. Then she slipped off the table andmoved across the room to an open bureau. She seemed to look forsomething. Then she strolled back to the table and took her seat onits edge once more.

"Is that a car coming?" she said suddenly, her dark eyes on the floor.

I listened. "I don't think so," I said, and stepped out on to thebalcony.

There was no sound at all. It was the dead of night indeed. I glancedover the balustrade at the car. Her headlights burned steadily, makingthe moonlit road ahead more bright.

"I can hear nothing," I said, coming back into the boudoir.

"Look," said Silvia, pointing over my shoulder.

As I turned, something struck me on the cheek. I stooped and picked itup. A piece of flexible cord about five inches long. I swung roundand looked at the girl. On the table a pair of scissors lay by herside.

"Why have you done this?" I demanded.

She raised her eyebrows by way of answer and reached for a cigarette.As she lighted it, I saw that her hand was trembling.

"Silvia, dear, surely you don't think—"

"Must you go?"

"It was a poor joke of mine, I know; but—"

"It was. I don't think a count or a baron would have said such arotten thing."

Her eyes flashed and she was trembling all over. From being pretty,she had become beautiful.

"Perhaps not," said I steadily. "But if they had, they would havemeant it, Silvia."

"As you did."

I coiled the flexible cord about a finger, loosed it and thrust it intomy pocket.

"I'll go now," I said, "as I came."

"Like a thief."

"Like a thief. You have been wonderfully kind, and I—I have spoiledeverything. Let's try and forget this evening. For you, a car passedin the night, the hum of its engine swelling up, only to fade againinto the silence. For me, I lingered to listen to the words of a song,and when it was done, sped on into the shadows. I wish you hadn't cutthat bell, lass."

"Why?"

I walked out on to the balcony and swung myself over the coping.

"Because then I should have asked if I might kiss you."

When I had lowered myself on to the seat of the car, I unbuckled thestrap and started to pull it down. But the buckle caught on thebaluster, and I had to stand on my old perch to reach and loosen it. Idid so, balancing myself with one hand on the balcony's door. As thestrap slipped free, there was a burning pain in my fingers. With a cryI tore them away, lost my balance, and fell sideways into the car on tothe back of the front seat. I stood up unsteadily. It hurt me tobreathe rather, and there was a stabbing pain in my right side.

"Are you hurt?" said a quick voice above me. Dazedly I raised my head.Silvia was leaning over the balcony, one hand to her white throat. Icould hear her quick-coming breath.

"No," I said slowly, "I'm not. But until you tell me that you know Idid not mean what I said, I will not believe that you did not mean tostand upon my fingers."

"Are you hurt, lad?"

"No. Did you hear what I said?"

Silvia stood up, her hands before her on the coping.

"You know I didn't."

Without a word I stepped carefully out of the car. The pain wasintense. It was as if my side was being seared with a hot iron. How Istarted the car I shall never know. The effort brought me to my knees.Somehow I crept into my seat, took out the clutch and put in the firstspeed. I was moving. Mechanically I changed into second, third, andtop. We were going now, but the trees by the wayside seemed to beclosing in on me. The road was really ridiculously narrow. I couldsee a corner coming. The pain was awful. My head began to swim, and Ifelt the near wheel rise on the bank. I wrenched the car round, tookout the clutch and dragged the lever into neutral. As I jammed on thehand-brake, I seemed to see many lights. Then came the noise of ahorn, cries, and the sound of tires tearing at the road. I fellforward and fainted.

I could smell Daphne. Somewhere at hand was my sister's faint perfume:I opened my eyes.

"Hullo, Boy!" said Jill, her small, cool hand on my forehead.

"Better, darling?" said Daphne, brushing my cheek with soft lips.

"I'm all right," I said, raising myself on my left elbow. Still thestabbing pain in my right side. "Where are we?"

"In the hall at St. Martin, dear. How did it all happen?"

"How did I get here?" I asked. "And you—I don't understand."

"We nearly ran you down, old chap." Berry's voice. "About a quarterof a mile from here, towards Fladstadt. But why were you driving away?"

I stared at him. "Driving away?" I said slowly. "Then—"

There were quick steps and the rustling of a dress.

Then Silvia spoke. "What is it, Bill? Tell me. Who's hurt?"

"It's all right, m'dear," said the man's voice. "Mrs. Pleydell'sbrother's met with an accident. We found him in the road. Don't makea noise. This is my sister, Mrs. Pleydell."

"How d'you do?" said Daphne. "My brother seems—"

"I'm all right," I said suddenly. "I'd lost my way, see? And one ofthe tires went, just as I was passing a big white house on the left. Istopped under a balcony, I think."

"That's right," said Bill Bairling. "Balcony of Silvia's room."

"I never knew it was St. Martin, though. I must have cut acrosscountry somehow. Still. Well, there was no jack on the car so Icouldn't do anything. Just as I was getting in again, I heard a noiseabove me and turned. My foot slipped on the step, and I fell on myside. Couple of ribs gone, I think. I tried to get on to Fladstadt.Is the car all right?"

"And you said you weren't hurt," cried Silvia, sinking on her knees byJill.

"Was it you who asked me?" I spoke steadily, looking her full in theeyes.

"Yes," said Silvia.

"I know I did. But then, you know, I don't always mean what I say."Then the pain surged up once more, and I fainted.

"Is she kind as she is fair?
For beauty lives with kindness.
Love doth to her eyes repair
To help him of his blindness,
And, being helped, inhabits there."

The singing was very gentle. Overnight the song had floated into theair, rich, full, vibrant; but now a tender note had crept into therendering, giving the melody a rare sweetness. I listened pleasedly.My side was very sore and stiff. Also my head ached rather.

"Priceless voice that little girl's got," said Berry in a low voice.

"Isn't she a dear, too?" said Daphne. "Fancy giving up her ownbedroom, so that we could have the salon next door."

"I know. But I wish she wouldn't keep on reproaching herself so. If agirl likes to step on to her own balcony, it's not her fault if somefellow underneath falls over himself and breaks a couple of ribs.However. When's the comic leech coming back?"

"This afternoon," said my sister. "But he'll wake before then. Idon't expect he'll remember much about last night. I'm so thankfulit's not more serious."

"How soon did he say he'd be up?"

"Inside a week. It's a clean fracture. Of course, he'll be strappedup for some time. Fancy his going on, though."

"Must have been temporarily deranged," said my brother-in-law airily."Shock of the fall, I expect."

"Rubbish!" said his wife. "Just because you'd have lain there, givingdirections about your funeral and saying you forgave people, you thinkanybody's mad for trying to get on. Boy has courage."

"Only that of his convictions," said Berry. "You forget I've got aclean sheet. My discharge from the Navy was marked 'Amazing'. Theonly stain upon my character is my marriage. As for my escutcheon,I've shaved in it for years."

"Fool!" said his wife.

"I shall turn my face to the wall if you're not careful."

"Don't," said Daphne. "Remember, it's not our house.

"There was a tap at the door. Then:

"May I come in?" said Silvia.

"Of course you may, dear. No. He's still asleep."

"It's nearly twelve," said Silvia. "Won't you go and rest a little,and let me stay here? You must be so tired. I'll call you the momenthe wakes."

Daphne hesitated. "It's awfully good of you—"

"But it isn't. I'd love to."

"The truth is, she's afraid to trust you, Miss Bairling," said Berry."She thinks you're going to steal his sock-suspenders."

"Will you leave the room?" said my sister.

"After you, beloved."

I could hear Silvia's gentle laughter. Then:

"I shall come back about one, dear, if you don't send for me before,"said Daphne.

The next moment I heard the door close, and Silvia seated herself on myleft by the side of the bed. I opened my off eye. I lay in a fair,grey-papered chamber, darkened, for the green shutters were drawn closeabout the open windows. Some of their slides were ajar, letting thebright sunshine slant into the room.

"There was once," I said, "a fool." A smothered exclamation close tomy left ear. "A fool, who did everything wrong. He lost his way, hisheart, his head, and, last of all, his balance. In that order. Yet hewas proud. But then he was only a fool."

"But he was—English," she murmured.

"Yes," I said.

"And there was another fool," said Silvia. "A much bigger one, really,because, although she never lost her way or her head or her balance,she lost something much more precious. She lost her temper."

"But not her voice," said I. "And the fools went together to ScotlandYard, and there they found the way and the head and the balance and thetemper. But not the heart, Silvia."

"Plural," said Silvia, softly. I opened my near eye and turned myhead. The first thing I saw was a rosy arm, lying on the edge of mypillow. Within reach.

"I say," I whispered. "Is the bell in this room all right?"

CHAPTER XI

THE LOVE SCENE

When I had drawn blood for the third time, I felt that honour wassatisfied, so I cleaned the safety razor carefully and put it away.

Quarter of an hour later I entered the dining-room.

"I said so," said Daphne.

"I know," said I, frowning.

"You don't even know what I said."

"I know that some surmise of yours has proved correct, which is enough."

The coffee really was hot. After drinking a little, my smile returned.

"Tell him," said Berry.

"We've been thinking it over," said Daphne, "and we've come to theconclusion that you'd better call."

"On whom? For what?"

"Be call-boy."

I rose to my feet.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I said, "I have to thank you this day—it ismeant for a day, isn't it?—for the honour you have done me. AlthoughI can scarcely hope to sustain the role in a manner worthy of the besttraditions of—"

"We'd cast you for something else, if it was safe," said Daphne.

"You don't really think I'm going to call, do you?"

"Why not?"

"And have to stand in the wings while you all get crowds of cabbagesand things. Not much! I've been relying on this show ever since Berrytrod on the big marrow."

"Well, of course, there is Buckingham," said Berry.

"Or the soothsayer," said Jill.

"You are now talking," I said. "Soothsaying is one of my fortes—myMartello tower, in fact. Of course, Hurlingham—"

"Buckingham, stupid!"

"Well, Buckingham, then, has his points. Whom does he espouse?"

"He doesn't espouse anyone."

"Whom does he love, then?"

Berry and Daphne looked uneasily at one another. I turned to Jonah,who was deep in The Sportsman.

"Who's Buckingham in love with, Jonah"

"Down and four to play. What?" said that worthy.

"Oh, Buckingham? He's hanging round the Queen mostly, I think, buthe's got two or three other irons in the fire."

"I will play Hurl—Buckingham," said I.

When Berry had finished, I reminded him that he had suggested the part,and that my mind was made up.

After a lengthy argument, in the course of which Berry drew a stage onthe table-cloth to show why it was I couldn't act:

"Oh, well, I suppose he'd better play it," said Daphne: "but I scenttrouble."

"That's right," I said. "Let me have a copy of the play."

Berry rose and walked towards the door. With his fingers on thehandle, he turned.

"If you don't know what some of the hard words mean," he said, "I shallbe in the library."

"Why in the library?" said Daphne.

"I'm going to write in another scene."

"Another scene?"

"Well, an epilogue, then."

"What's it going to be?"

"Buckingham's murder," said Berry. "I can see it all. It will behideously realistic. All women and children will have to leave thetheatre."

As he went out:

"I expect the Duke will fight desperately," said I.

Berry put his head round the door.

"No," he said, "that's the dastardly part of it. It is from behindthat his brains are dashed out with a club."

I stretched out my hand for a roll.

"Do you know how a log falls?" said Berry. "Because, if—"

I could not get Daphne to see that, if Berry had not withdrawn hishead, the roll would not have hit the Sargent. However.

The good works of which Daphne is sometimes full occasionally overflowand deluge those in her immediate vicinity. Very well, then. A localinstitution, whose particular function has for the moment escaped me,suddenly required funds. Perhaps I should say that it was suddenlynoised abroad that this was the case, for it was one of the kind thatis always in this uncomfortable plight. If one day someone were topresent it with a million pounds and four billiard tables, next week weshould be asked to subscribe to a fund to buy it a bagatelle board. Atany rate, in a burst of generosity, Daphne had undertaken that we wouldget up a show. When she told us of her involving promise, we wereappalled.

"A show?" gasped Jonah.

"Yes," said Berry. "You know, a show—, display. We are to exhibit usto a horrified assembly."

"But, Daphne darling," said Jill. "What have you done?"

"It's all right," said my sister. "We can do a play. A little one,you know, and the Merrows will help."

"Of course," said Berry. "Some telling trifle or other. Can't wedramatize 'The Inchcape Rock'?"

"Excellent," said I. "I should like to play the abbot. It would berather suitable, too. If you remember, 'they blest the Abbot ofAberbrothok."'

"Why not?" said Berry. "We could have a very fervent little scene withthem all blessing you."

"And perhaps Heath Robinson would paint the scenery."

And so on.

In the end, Berry and Jonah had constructed quite a passable littledrama, by dint of drawing largely on Dumas in the first place, andtheir own imagination in the second. There were one or two strongsituations, relieved by some quite creditable light comedy, and all the'curtains' were good. The village hall, complete with alleged stage,was engaged, and half the county were blackmailed into taking tickets.There were only twelve characters, of which we accounted for five, andit was arranged that we should all twelve foregather four daysbeforehand, to rehearse properly. The other seven artists were to staywith us at White Ladies for the rehearsals and performance, andgenerally till the affair had blown over.

It was ten days before the date of the production that I was cast forBuckingham. Six days to become word perfect. When three of them hadgone, I explained to the others that, for all their jealousy, theywould find that I should succeed in getting into the skin of the part,and that, as it was impossible to polish my study of George Villiers inthe teeth of interference which refused to respect the privacy even ofmy own bedroom, I should go apart with Pomfret, and perfect myrendering in the shelter of the countryside.

"Have pity upon our animal life!" cried Berry, when I made known myintention. "Consider the flora and fauna of our happy shire!"

"Hush, brother," said I. "You know not what you say. I shall not seekthe fields. Rather—"

"That's something. We don't want you hauled up for sheep-worrying justnow."

"—shall I repair to some sequestered grove. There, when I shallcommune with myself, Nature will go astray. Springtime will comeagain. Trees will break forth into blossom, meadows will blow anew,and the voice of the turtle—"

"If you don't ring off," said Berry. "I'll set George at you."

George is our gorgonzola, which brings me back to Pomfret. Pomfret isa little two-seater. I got him because I thought he'd be so usefuljust to run to and fro when the car was out. And he is. We madefriends at Olympia, and I took to him at once. A fortnight later, Jillwas driving him delightedly round and round in front of the house.After watching her for a while, Berry got in and sat down by her side.

"Not that I want a drive," he explained carefully; "but I want to seeif my dressing-case will be able to stand it as far as the station."

"If you think" I began, but the next moment Jill had turned down thedrive, and I watched the three go curling out of sight.

When they returned, half an hour later, Berry unreservedly withdrew hisremark about the dressing-case, and the next day, when Daphne suggestedthat Pomfret should bear a small basket of grapes to the vicarage, hetold her she ought to be ashamed of herself.

From that day Pomfret was one of us.

And now, with three days left to learn my words, and a copy of the playin my pocket, I drove forth into the countryside. When I had idlycovered about twenty miles, I turned down a little lane and pulled upby the side of a still wood. I stopped the engine and listened. Not asound. I left the road and strolled in among the trees till I came towhere one lay felled, making a little space. It was a sunshiny morningin October, and summer was dying hard. For the most part, the softcolourings of autumn were absent, and, as if loyal to their oldmistress, the woods yet wore the dear green livery, faded a little,perhaps, but the more grateful because it should so soon be laid aside.The pleasant place suited my purpose well, and for twenty minutes Iwrestled with the powerful little scene Jonah had written between theQueen and Buckingham. By the end of that time I knew it fairly well,so I left it for a while and stealthily entered the old oakchamber—Act III, Scene I—by the secret door behind the arras. Afterbringing down the curtain with two ugly looks, four steps, and a sneer,I sat down on the fallen beech-tree, lighted a cigarette, and wonderedwhy I had rejected the post of call-boy. Then I started on thelove-scene again.

"'Madam, it is said that I am a harsh man. I am not harsh to everyone. Better for me, perhaps, if I were; yet so God made me.'"

"When do you open?"

"That's wrong," said I. "'Can you be gentle, then?' comes after that.Now, however, that you have shattered the atmosphere I had created—ofcourse, I think you're absolutely beautiful, and, if you'll wait asecond, I'll get Pomfret's rug."

"I don't know what you mean, but thanks all the same, and if Pomfretdoesn't mind, this tree is rather grubby."

I got the rug and spread it on the fallen trunk for her. She was whatthe Irish are popularly believed to call 'a shlip of a ghirl,' clad ina dark blue riding-habit that fitted her slim figure beautifully. Nohat covered her thick, blue-black hair, which was parted in the middleand loosely knotted behind. Here and there a wisp of it was in the actof escaping. I watched them greedily. Merry grey eyes and the softestcolouring, with a small red mouth, ready to join the eyes in theirlaughter if its owner listed. She was wearing natty littlepatent-leather boots, and her hunting hat and crop lay on the log byher side. She sat down and began to pull the gloves off a pair ofsmall brown hands.

"Do you know if cats ever drink water?" she said musingly.

"From what I remember of last year's statistics, there was, I believe,a marked decrease in the number of alcoholism cases reported asoccurring amongst that species. I'm speaking off-hand, you know."

"Never mind that: it's very good hearing."

"I know, and, talking of tight-ropes, Alice, have you seen the MarchHare lately?"

She threw her head back and laughed merrily. Then—

"We are fools, you know," she said.

"Perhaps. Still, a little folly—"

"Is a dangerous thing. And, now, when do you open?"

"To-morrow week. And, owing to the iniquitous provisions of the newShops Act, foisted by a reckless Government upon a—"

"You can cut that bit."

"Thank you. We close the same night."

"Positively for one performance only?"

"Exactly. And that's why I shall only just be able to get you a seat."

"You needn't trouble."

"What! Don't you want to come?"

"Is it going to be very good?"

"Good? My dear Alice, we shall that night light such a candle as shallnever be put out. Electric light is doomed. The knell of acetylenegas has sounded."

"You've only got a few lines, I suppose?"

I looked at her sorrowfully.

"Whose rug is she sitting on?" I said.

"Pomfret's."

"Pomfret is but the bailee of the rug, Alice."

"Oh," she cried, "he's going to be a barrister!"

"Talking of cats," I said stiffly, "and speaking as counsel of fiveyears' standing—"

I stopped, for she was on her feet now, facing me, and standing veryclose, with her hands behind her and a tilted chin, looking into myeyes.

"Talking of what, did you say?"

For a second I hesitated. Then:

"Gnats," I said.

She turned and resumed her place on the fallen tree. "Now you're goingon with your rehearsal," she announced. "I'll hear you."

"Will you read the cues?"

"Give me the book."

I showed her the point I had reached when she entered.

"You are the Queen," I said. "It's rather confusing, because I hadthought you were Alice; but it can't be helped. Besides, you came onjust before you did, really, and you've spoken twice before you openedyour small red mouth."

"Is that how it describes the Queen?" This suspiciously.

"I was really thinking of Alice, but—"

"But what?"

"The Queen has got a delicate, white throat. It says so."

"How can you tell? I've got a stock on."

"I said the Queen had. Besides, when you put your face up to mine justnow—"

"Hush! Besides, you were looking me in the eyes all the time, so—"

"And, if I was, do you blame me?"

"I'm not in the witness-box now, counsel."

"No, but you're sitting on Pomfret's rug, and Pomfret is but the—"

She began to laugh helplessly.

"Come along, Alice," I said. "'Yet so God made me. Now you say, 'Canyou be gentle, then?' and give me the glad eye.

"It only says 'archly' here, in brackets."

"Same thing," said I

"'Can you be gentle, then?'"

A pause. Then:

"Go on," she said.

"I'm waiting for my cue."

"I've said it—Hare."

"John or March?"

"March, of course. John is an actor."

"Thank you, Alice, dear. I repeat, I await my cue, the which youincontinently withhold. Selah!"

She tried not to laugh.

"I've given it, you silly man."

"My dear, I come in on the eye. It's most important. You must give itto me, because I've got to give it back to you in a second or two."

She gave it me exquisitely.

"'There are with whom I can be more than gentle, madam.'"

Here I returned the eye with vigour.

"'What manner of men are these you favour?'"

"'They are not men, madam. Neither are they favoured of me.

"'Of whom, then?'"

"'Of Heaven, madam, and at birth. I mean fair women."'

"Such as—"

"'Such as you, madam.'"

The way she said 'Hush!' at that was a flash of genius. It wasindescribably eloquent. She forbade and invited in the same breath.It was wonderful, and it made me Buckingham. And Buckingham it broughtto her feet. Little wonder. It would have brought a cardinal. In thepassionate rhetoric of my lines I wooed her, sitting there on the treetrunk, her head thrown back, eyes closed, lips parted, and always thefaint smile that sends a man mad. I never had to tell her to rise. Tothe line she swayed towards me. To the line she slipped into my arms.She even raised her lips to mine at the last. Then, as I stooped forthe kiss, she placed her two small hands firmly on my face and pushedme away.

"Very nice, indeed," she said. "You know your lines well, and you knowhow to speak them. Hare, I think you're going to be rather good."

I wiped the perspiration off my forehead.

"You made me good, then. I shall never give such a show again."

"Of course you will."

"Never! Never, Alice! But you—you're wonderful. Good Heavens, lass,this might be the two hundredth night you'd played the part. Are yousome great one I've not recognized? And will you sign apicture-postcard for our second housemaid—the one who saw 'Buzz-Buzz'eighteen times?"

"What! Not the one with fair hair?"

"And flat feet? The very one. Junket, her name is. By Curds out ofSeason. My mistake. I was thinking of our beagle. Don't think I'mquite mad. I'm only drunk. You're the wine."

"The Queen is, you mean."

"No, no—you, Alice."

She looked at her wrist-watch.

"Oh, all right," I said. "The Queen's the wine, the play's the thing.Anything you like. Only I'm tired of play-acting, and I only want totalk to Alice. Come and let me introduce Pomfret."

"He hasn't been here all the time?"

"Waiting in the road."

"Oh, he's a horse."

I laughed by way of answer, and we walked to where Pomfret stood,patient, immobile. I introduced him elaborately. My lady swept him acurtsey.

"I have to thank you for lending me your rug, Pomfret," she said.

I replied for the little chap:

"It's not my rug; I am but the bail—"

"That's all right. Is your master nice to you?"

"But yes, lady. Don't you like him?"

"He seems to mean well."

"Isn't that rather unkind?" said Pomfret.

"I'm not in the witness-box now."

"Then there's no reason why you shouldn't tell the truth."

"Really, Pomfret!"

"Forgive me, Alice. I'm only a young car, and sometimes, when thepetrol gets into my tank—"

"I hope you don't take more than you should."

"I'm sober enough to see you've got a fine pair of headlights."

"I'm afraid you're of rather a coming-on disposition, Pomfret."

"Oh, I can do my thirty-five. His licence will show you that.

"Oh, Pomfret, did you get it endorsed?"

"It was his own fault. Kept egging me on all the time, and then, whenwe were stopped, tells the police that it's a physical impossibilityfor me to do more than fifteen. And I had to stand there and hear himsay it! He told me afterwards that it was only a facon de parler, butI was angry. I simply shook with anger, the radiator was boiling, too,and one of the tires burst with rage."

"And I suppose the petrol pipe was choked with emotion."

"And the engine almost throttled in consequence. But that is anotherstory. And now, won't you let me take you for a little run? My clutchis not at all fierce."

My companion leaned against Pomfret's hood and laughed.

"He's a bit of a nut, isn't he?" said I.

"Do you think he's quite safe?"

"Rather! Besides, I shall be with you."

"That's not saying much."

"Thank you. And talking of gurnats—"

"Where will you take me?"

"Whithersoever she listed."

"Is it far from here to Tendon Harrow?"

"About sixteen miles."

"Would you mind, Hare?"

"You know I'd love it."

I started up Pomfret, and we settled ourselves in the car. As luckwould have it, I had a second coat with me, and she said she was quitewarm and comfortable.

Presently she told me all that had happened. In the morning she hadridden alone to hounds. The meet had been at Will Cross. The mare waskeen, and for a few miles all went well. Then the hounds had split.Most of the field had followed the master, but she and a few others hadfollowed the huntsman. After a while she had dropped a little behind.Then there had been a check. She had seized upon the opportunity itafforded her to slip off and tighten her girths.

"Wasn't there any man there to—"

"Wait. The next second the hounds picked up the scent again, and,before I knew where I was, the mare had jerked the bridle out of myhand and was half-way across the first field."

"And didn't anyone catch her?"

"The man who caught her is a brute. He would have wanted to tighten mygirths for me, and that's why I dropped behind. I felt it would behim, so I slid out of sight behind a hedge, and when I saw it was himcoming back with her, I didn't want his smile, so I just ran into thewoods and started to walk home."

"Did he see you?"

"No. He may be there still, for all I know."

"He must have been having a roaring time leading the mare about allday."

"I hope it'll teach him not to pester a girl again."

I sighed. "Some of us are brutes, aren't we?"

"Yes."

A pause. Then:

"But some men have been very nice to me."

"The devil they have!" said I.

Here, as certain of our own writers say and have said, a gurgle ofdelight escaped her. I leaned forward and grabbed at something, caughtand handed it to her. She stared at my empty palm.

"Your gurgle, I think."

"Oh," she said, laughing, "you are mad. But I like you. Now, why isthat?"

"Personal charm," said I. "The palmist who sits where the draughts arein the Brown Park Hotel, West Central, said I had a magnetism of myown."

"There you are. I never believed in palmistry."

"She also told me to beware of lifts, and a fellow trod on one of myspats in the one at Dover Street the very next morning. Hullo!"

Pomfret slowed gradually down and stopped. I turned to the girl.

"This is what we pay the boy sixteen shillings a week for."

"What's the matter?"

"Petrol's run out. I'm awfully sorry. The silly serf must haveforgotten to fill up before I started."

"My dear Hare, what shall we do?"

I made a rapid calculation.

"We can't be more than a quarter of a mile from Fell. In fact, I'malmost sure it's at the foot of the next hill. Yes, I know it is. Andif we can get Pomfret to the crest of this rise, it's all down-hillfrom there to the village. Shall we try, Alice?"

"Rather!"

She got out, and I followed. Fortunately the slope was a gentle one,and, without much of the harder labour, we managed to top the rise.Then we got in again, and began to descend the hill. When the brakesfailed, one after another, I was, if possible, more pained thansurprised. I rebuked Pomfret and turned to my companion:

"Do you mind making ready to die?" I said. "I'm sorry, but if we don'ttake the next corner, I'm afraid we shall be what is called 'foundlater'."

We took it on two wheels, and I then ran Pomfret's near front wheel onto the low bank by the side of the road.

"Put your arms round my neck," I cried.

She did so, and the next moment we plunged into the bushes. I heard awing snap, and the car seemed to mount a little into the air; then westopped at a nasty angle, for the off hind wheel was yet in thechannel. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then, still grasping the wheel,I looked down at my left shoulder.

"I love Harris tweeds," said the girl quietly. "It's just as well,isn't it?"

All things considered, it was. Her nose was embedded in the clothabout two inches above my left breast-pocket. In silence I kissed herhair four times. Then:

"I confess," I said, that the real blue-black hair has always been aweakness of mine.

At that she struggled to rise, but the angle was against her, and,honestly, I couldn't do much. The next minute she had found the edgeof the wind-screen—fortunately open at the time of the accident—andhad pulled herself off me.

"My hair must have been—"

"Almost in my mouth," I said. "Exactly. I have been—"

"What?"

"Licking it, my dear. It's awfully good for hair, you know—imparts agloss-like and silky appearance. Besides, since—"

"Idiot!"

I climbed gingerly out of the car, and then helped her into the bushes.

"Suffering from shock, Alice? I'm really devilish sorry."

"Not a bit. It wasn't your fault. Between you and me, Hare, I thinkyou managed it wonderfully."

"Thank you, Alice. That's very sweet of you."

"I hope Pomfret isn't much hurt."

"The little brute. Only a wing, I think. Look here, if we walk intothe village, you can have some lunch—you must want it—at the inn,while I get some help to get him out."

Just at the foot of the hill we came upon 'The Old Drum,' its timberedwalls showing white behind the red screen of its Virginia creeper.When I had escorted my lady into the little parlour, I sought thekitchen. I could hardly believe my ears when the comfortable mistressof the house told me that at that very moment a toothsome duck wasroasting, and that it would and should be placed before us in a quarterof an hour. Without waiting to inquire whom we were about to depriveof their succulent dish, I hastened with the good news to my companion.

"Splendid!" she said.

"You don't mind waiting?"

"I should have waited for you, anyway. Now go and retrieve Pomfret;you've just got time."

To the two husbandmen I found in the bar, the idea of earning twopencea minute for a quarter of an hour appealed so strongly that they didnot wait to finish the ale I had ordered for them, and the feats ofstrength they performed in persuading Pomfret to return to the pathfrom which he had strayed made me ache all over. The result was thatthe car was in the yard before the duck had left the oven, and I wasable to have a wash at the pump before luncheon was served. Pomfrethad come off very lightly, on the whole. Except for the broken wing, afair complement of scratches, and the total wreck of one of the lamps,he seemed to have taken no hurt.

So it happened that Alice and I lunched together. I think we were bothglad of the food. When it was over, I lighted her cigarette, and drewher attention to the oleograph, which pictured Gideon's astonishment atthe condition of what, on examination, proved to be a large fleece.Out of perspective in the background a youth staggered under a pile offirst-fruits.

"No wayside inn parlour is complete without one such picture," said I."As a rule, we are misled about Moses. This, however, is of a laterschool. Besides, this is really something out of the common."

"Why?"

"Well, that's not Gideon really, but Garrick as Gideon. Very rare.And that with the first-fruits is Kean as—

"Yes?"

"As Ever," I went on hurriedly; "Gideon's great pal, you know, brotherof Always. And Mrs. Siddons—"

"Who made her debut six years after Garrick's farewell...And you're allwrong about Kean. But don't let me stop you. Which is Nell Gwynne?"

"Nelly? Ah, no, she isn't in the picture. But she stopped hereonce—for lunch—quite by chance and unattended, save for a poor foolshe had found in the forest. Hunting she had been, and had lost herhorse, and he brought her on her way on a pillion. Be sure he rodewith his chin on his shoulder all the time. She never said who shewas, but he knew her for some great lady, for all his dullness. Ah,Nell, you—she was very sweet to him: let him see the stars in hereyes, let him mark the blue cloud of her hair, suffered him to sit byher side at their meal, gave him of her fair company, and—and, likethem all, he loved her. All the time, too—from the moment when heturned and saw her standing there by the fallen tree in the forest,with her loose hair scrambling over her temples—scrambling to see thestars in her eyes. The day passed, and then another; and then theweeks and months, and presently the years, very slowly. But always thefool saw her standing there in the sunshine, with the dear, faint smileon her lips, and the bright memory of her eyes lighted his path whenthe way was dark, and he might have stumbled, always, always."

I stopped. She was looking away out of the latticed window up at theclear blue sky—looking with the look that is blind and seeth nothing.I came round to the back of her chair and put my hands on her shoulders.

"We never finished our scene," I said gently.

"No?"

"No. You pushed me away."

"Did I?"

A pause. Then:

"May I finish it now?" I said.

"I expect," she said slowly, "I expect you know that bit all right."

"I shall cut it on the night of the performance."

She leaned right back in her chair and looked steadily up into my eyes.I bent over her.

"You'll do nothing of the sort," she said firmly. "She may be—"

"A goddess. But she won't be you."

"No?" she smiled.

"Never, Alice."

"Promise me you'll not cut it on the night."

I groaned.

"But—" I faltered.

"Promise."

"Oh, all right! But I shall hate it, Alice, hate—"

"A present for a good Hare," she said softly, and raised her lips tomine.

On examination Pomfret proved to be practically unhurt, and I was ableto get some petrol in the village; but naturally I didn't dare to drivehim without seeing to the brakes. It was impossible for my companionto wait while I rectified the trouble, but we managed to raise what hadonce been a dog-cart, and in that she left for Tendon Harrow. Sheleft, I say, for she would not let me come with her. She was so firm.I implored her, but it was no good. She simply would not be entreated,and I had to content myself with putting her carefully in and watchingher drive away in the care of a blushing half-boots, half-ostler, whocould not have been more than eighteen.

I got home about six.

"Where on earth have you been?" said Daphne, as I entered thesmoking-room.

"Ask Pomfret," said I. "He's in disgrace."

"You haven't hurt him?"

"He nearly killed me."

"What happened"

"Lost his temper just because the petrol ran out. Believe me, a horridexhibition. Absolutely let himself go. In other words, the brakesfailed, and I had to run him into the bushes. One lamp and one wingbroken, otherwise unhurt. To adjusting brakes—materials, nil; labour,three hours at a drink an hour, three pints ale. Oh, rotten, my dear,rotten!"

I sank into a chair.

"Meanwhile, we've had to entertain the Wilson crowd. I suppose youforgot they were coming?"

"I was with you in spirit."

"In beer, you mean," said Berry. "Look here, I knew you when you wereseven, before you had put off the white mantle of innocence and assumedthe cloak of depravity. It has been my unhappy lot to be frequently inyour company ever since, and, speaking from a long and distastefulexperience of you and your ways, I am quite satisfied that, if you didmeet with some slight contretemps, you made no whole-hearted effort torejoin us in time to degrade your intellect by discussing the sort oftopics which appeal to that genus of hopeless wasters which the Wilsonsadorn."

"Was it very bad?" said I.

"Bad?" said Jonah. "Bad? When a woman with six male children leadsoff by telling you that she keeps a book in which she has faithfullyrecorded all the amusing sayings of her produce up to the age of seven,it's pretty bad, isn't it?"

"Not really?"

"Fact," said Berry. "She quoted a lot of them. One of the more nuttywas a contribution from Albert on seeing his father smoking for thefirst time. 'Mother, is daddy on fire' Now, that really happened. Wehad about half an hour of the book. Jonah asked her why she didn'tpublish it, and she nearly kissed him. It was terrible."

"To make things worse," said Jonah, "they brought Baldwin and Arthurwith them, as specimens of what they could do in the child line."

"How awful!" said I

"It was rather trying," said Berry. "But they were all right as soonas we turned them on to the typewriter."

"What!" I gasped.

"Oh, we had little or no trouble with them after that."

"Quiet as mice," said Jonah.

"Do you know that machine cost me twenty-five pounds?" I cried.

"The jam'll wash off," said Berry. "You don't know how easily jamcomes off. Why, I've known..."

"If I thought you really had turned them on to the typewriter, I shouldnever forgive you."

"You oughtn't to say a thing like that, even in jest," said Berry; "itisn't Christian. I tell you for your good."

"Seriously, you didn't do such a wicked thing? Hullo, where is it?"

"They're going to bring it back on Wednesday. I said they couldn'thave it more than a week."

I glanced at Jill, who was standing by the window. Her left eyelidflickered, and I knew it was all right.

"Well, I can't help it," I said, sinking back into my chair andlighting a cigarette.

"Poor old chap!" said Daphne. "I believe you thought we had done youdown."

"Of course I didn't. Is it to-morrow you've got to go up to Town,Jill?"

"Yes, Boy. Are you going up, too?"

"Must. I'll give you lunch at the Berkeley if you like, dear."

Jill came across and laid her cheek against mine.

"I always like Boy, because he's grateful," she said gently.

Three days later our fellow-mummers began to arrive. A deep melancholyhad settled upon me. I cursed the play, I cursed the players, I cursedmy part, and most of all I cursed the day which had seen me cast forBuckingham. Whenever I picked up the book, I saw my queen, Alice,standing there by the fallen tree or sitting looking up at me as I bentover her chair in the parlour of 'The Old Drum'. And now her place wasto be taken, usurped by another—a Miss Tanyon—whom I hated terribly,though I didn't know her, and the very idea of whom was enough to killany dramatic instinct I once seemed to possess. Whenever I rememberedmy promise to Alice, I writhed. So odious are comparisons.

When Daphne announced that the wretched woman was coming by thefive-fourteen, and that she should go with the car to meet her, andadded that I had better come, too, I refused point-blank.

"I don't know what's the matter with you," said my sister. "Don't youwant to see the girl you'll have to play the love-scene with?"

This about finished me, and I laughed bitterly.

"No," I said, "I'm damned if I do."

When Daphne pressed her point as only Daphne can, I felt really tootimid and bored with the whole affair to argue about it, so I gave way.Accordingly, at ten minutes past five, I stood moodily on the platformby my sister's side. The train steamed in, and the passengers began toalight. Daphne scanned them eagerly.

"I don't see her," she said half to herself.

We were standing half-way down the platform, and I turned and lookedlistlessly towards the front of the train. That end of the platformwas empty except for two people. One was a stoker who had stepped offthe foot-plate. The other was Alice. She was in blue still—a bluecoat and skirt, with a fox fur about her shoulders. A small, blue felthat was somewhat shading her eyes, but I could see she was looking atme and smiling. I forgot all about Miss Tanyon—she simply didn'tmatter now.

Involuntarily:

"Why. there's the Queen!" I cried, and started towards her.

"Where?" said Daphne.

"Here," I flung over my shoulder.

A four-wheeled truck of luggage, propelled by a porter across my bows,blocked my way for a moment, and Daphne overtook me.

"So it is," she said. "But how did you know?"

CHAPTER XII

THE ORDER OF THE BATH

Berry blotted the letter with maddening precision. Then he picked itup tenderly and handed it to me.

"How will that do?"

"Read it aloud," said Daphne.

I did so.

"Dear Sir,—In the interests of personal cleanliness, we have—notwithout considerable hesitation—decided to install a fourth bathroomat our historic home, 'White Ladies'. This decision will necessitatethe loss or conversion of one of the dressing-rooms, a fact which fillsus with the gravest misgivings, since there are only eleven in thewhole mansion. At the same time, thee conventions of a prudish agemake it undesirable that a second bath should be installed in one ofthe rooms already existing for that purpose. We think the fourth roomon your right, as you leave the back stairs, going south. This islocally known as the Green Room and takes its name, not, as you mayimagine, from the fact that the late Sir Henry Irving once slept there,but from the hue of the rodents, said there frequently to have beenobserved by the fourth Earl. Please execute the work with yourcustomary diligence. We should like to pay on the hire system, i.e.,so much a month, extending over a period of two years. The greatstrides, recently made in the perilous art of aviation, suggest to usthat the windows should be of ground glass. Yours faithfully, etc.P.S.—If your men drop the bath on the stairs, the second footman willat once apply for a warrant for their arrest."

Jill buried her face in the sofa-cushions and gave way to unrestrainedmerriment. Jonah laughed openly. I set my teeth and tried not tosmile. For an instant the corners of Daphne's mouth twitched. Then:

"Wretched ass," she said.

"The truth is," said her husband, "you don't know literature when yousee it. Now that letter—"

"I suppose I shall have to write to the man," said I.

"There you are," said Berry. "Insults at every turn. I was about tosay that I regarded that letter as one of the brightest jewels in analready crowded diadem."

"Give me the writing-block," I said shortly, producing my fountain-pen.I turned to Daphne. "What sort of a bath d'you want?"

"Porcelain-enamel, they call it, don't they?" she replied vaguely,subjecting a box of chocolates to a searching cross-examination.

Berry rose to his feet and cleared his throat. Then he sang lustily:

"What of the bath?
The bath was made of porcelain,
Of true ware, of good ware,
The ware that won't come off."

A large cushion sailed into his face. As it fell to the ground, Berryseized it and held it at arm's length.

"Ha," he said rapturously. "A floral tribute. They recognize mytalent."

"Not at all," said Jonah. "I only threw that, because the dead catshaven't come."

"Exactly," said I. "We all know you ought to be understudying at theHoxton Empire, but that's no reason why we should be subjected—"

"Did you notice the remarkable compass of my voice?" said Berry,sinking into a chair.

"I did," said I. "I should box it, if I were you, brother. Bottle it,if you prefer."

"Poor fool," said my brother-in-law. "For the trumpet notes, to whichit has just been your privilege to listen, there is a great future. Inshort, my voice is futurist. The moment they hear it, the few who havepaid for their seats will realize what the box-office will say whenthey demand the return of their money."

"And those who have not paid?" said I.

"Oh, they will understand why they were given tickets."

"Suppose you write that letter," said Daphne wearily.

I bent over the writing-block.

"You know," said Berry, "I don't think this bath's at all necessary."

At this there was a great uproar. At length:

"Besides," said my sister, "we all decided that we must have anotherbath ages ago. The only question there's ever been was where to putit."

"Of course," said I. "If we don't, where are we going to dip thesheep?"

"Well, I think it's a shame to pull the old place about like this. Ifwe're so awfully dirty, we'd better find another house that's got fourbathrooms already, and sell White Ladies."

"Sell White Ladies?" cried Jill.

Berry nodded.

"Not only lock and stock, but barrel too. Yes," he added bitterly,"the old water-butt must go."

"Look here," said I. "It occurs to me that this isn't a case for aletter. We ought to go and choose a bath properly."

"That's rather an idea," said Daphne.

"Simply sparkling," said her husband. "Personally, I've got somethingbetter to do than to burst down to South London, and stagger roundfloor after floor, staring at baths."

"You needn't worry," said Daphne coolly. "I wouldn't go with you for ahundred pounds."

Berry turned to us others.

"Yet we love one another," he said, with a leer in his wife'sdirection. "In reality I am the light of her eyes. The acetylene gas,as it were, of her existence. Well, well." He rose and stretchedhimself. "I wash my hands of the whole matter. Note the appropriatesimile. Install what cistern you please. If approached properly, Imay consent to test the work when complete. Mind you spare no expense."

"We don't propose to," said Daphne.

Berry regarded her sorrowfully.

"I suppose," he said, "I suppose you know what word will be found atthe post-mortem graven upon my heart?"

"What?" said Daphne, stifling a yawn.

"Plunge."

It was quite a good day to choose a bath. True, it was winter. Butthen the sun was shining out of a clear, blue sky, there was a rarefreshness in the London air, and beneath me—for I was crossingWestminster Bridge—old Thames marched all a-glitter. I watched hispassage gratefully. It was that of a never-ending band. Playing allthe way, too, but silently. Yet, the music was there. The pity wasthat one could not hear it. The pomp, the swagger, the swing of theGuards, the shifting movement, the bright array—all these wereunmistakable. The very lilt of the air made itself felt. Very cheery.Certainly, the river was en fete.

It had been arranged that the selection of an appropriate bath shouldbe made by Daphne, Jonah, and me. When I came down to breakfast tofind that Jonah had already left for Huntercombe, I was more hurt thansurprised. But, when Daphne appeared during the marmalade, clad in anew riding-habit, I made haste to empty my mouth.

"You can't ride there," I said. "The traffic's too heavy. Besides,the tram-lines—"

"You don't want me, old chap," said my sister, stooping to lay her softcheek against mine, as she passed to her place.

I drank some coffee with an injured air. Then:

"This," I said, "is low down. Not nice. I don't like it in you. Itargues—"

"—the confidence we repose in your judgment," said Daphne.

"Yes, brother," said Berry, looking up from The Sportsman. "Thebath-dressing-gown has fallen upon your rounded shoulders. Ill thoughit becomes you, I trust that—"

"Enough," said I. "Alone I will select a bath. Doubtless you will alldeplore my choice as bitterly as you will fight with one another forthe privilege of using it. However. When I am dead, you will regret—"

"No, we shan't," said my brother-in-law. "We shall just bury you underanother name and try to keep the obituary notices out of the papers."

I sat back in my chair and frowned. "Be good enough to pass therolls," said I.

"You've only had four," said Berry, pushing them across. "Mind you geta good lunch at Lambeth. I'm told they do you very well at 'The ThreeBalls.'

"When I'm choosing a bath," said I, "I always lunch at 'The RisingSpray.'" And now, here I was, afoot upon Westminster Bridge bound forthe warehouse of the firm we proposed to honour with our patronage.

I passed on into the roar of the crowded streets, and a quarter of anhour later I reached the place I sought.

Almost immediately the office-boy took me for a commercial travellerand refused point-blank to announce my arrival. I told him that I hadan appointment.

"Yes," he said pleasantly. "They all 'as."

"Friend," said I, "I see that you are bent on gaining the featheredfowl. In other words, if I'm kept waiting much longer you'll get thebird."

"I don't think," he replied somewhat uneasily.

"That," said I, "is what I complain of."

I seated myself on a table and lighted a cigarette. Then:

"I wonder how he'll like his new place," I said, apostrophizing theskylight.

A pause. Then:

"Of corse, the guv'nor might be in," said the youth. "Yer never knows."

"Speak for yourself," said I. "At the same time, you appear to bedoing what you conceive to be your duty. And for those who do theirduty, there is always a shilling in the left-hand trouser-pocket—"

But the boy was half-way upstairs. I had proved my identity.

Five minutes later one of the partners was conducting me in thedirection of the baths.

Now he had twice begged me to be careful not to hit my head, for he ledme through divers dark, low-pitched corridors. Especially divers. Iremembered his warning about a fifth of a second too late.

When we at length emerged again into the broad light of day, Icontemplated my new bowler in some annoyance. It was bashed inproperly. A large dent—in shape somewhat resembling the Empire ofIndia—leered at me, its edges generously defined with whitewash. Verytrying.

My good host was greatly concerned, and begged to be allowed to takethe damaged headgear away and have it brushed. After a little Iconsented, promising to walk round and look at the baths while he wasgone. The next moment he had disappeared.

I laid my stick and gloves on a glass-topped table and looked about me.Never before had I seen so many baths gathered together. Large andsmall, deep and shallow, normal and abnormal, they stood orderly inlong lines. The more elaborate ones, fitted with screens and showers,douches, etc., stood a little apart upon a baize-covered dais, brightwith their glistening pipes and rows of taps. And in an alcove, allglorious, electric light burning above its gold-lacquered fittings,reposed the bath of baths, a veritable monarch, with his attendantbasin, marble-topped table, gilded towel-rails, etc., etc.

Attracted by the aristocracy upon the dais, I was proceeding to strollhumbly in their direction, when I heard the sound of footsteps. Thenext moment a girl stepped lightly between great sliding iron doors,which led obviously from an adjoining chamber on the same floor.

Very smart she was, in a black cloth coat with ermine collar and cuffs.On her head was a trim black hat from which a fine brooch was blazing.Save that she was fair, and that her feet flashed as she walked, Icould see little more.

For a moment the new-comer hesitated, looking about her. Then she cametowards me.

"Oh," she said. "I want to choose a bath."

For an instant I looked at her. Then I remembered that I was hatless,stickless, gloveless.

I bowed.

"Certainly, madam. What sort of bath do you require?"

She was looking at me now—narrowly rather. Quickly she swung roundand glanced about the great hall. Then she spoke, somewhat uneasily.

"Er—if you would show me some baths with showers and things, please—"

"With pleasure, madam. Will you come this way?"

I preceded her in the direction of the great ones.

"Now this," I said, laying my hand familiarly on the smooth edge of oneof the grandes dames, "this is 'The Duchess.' Very popular, madam.She may not exactly figure in Society, but I can assure you that everymorning half Society figures in her." I glanced at the girl to see anamused smile struggling with grave suspicion in her eyes. I went onhurriedly. "We've been selling a great number lately."

"Have you?" she said slowly.

"Yes, indeed, madam. Only this morning we received an order forfourteen from Madagascar." I turned to another patrician. "Here againis a first-class bath. 'The Nobleman.' A great feature is the glassscreen. The enamel, too, is of the very best quality. Nickelplatedfittings, stream line body, detachable whee—er—that is, the wastealso is constructed on a most ingenious principle: we call it the'Want-Not' pattern."

"Ah," she said quietly. "And what's the price of this—er—paragon?"

I glanced at the ticket, knitting my brows.

"Well, it's listed at 'AWK/-', but to you, madam, the price is—"

I looked at her, smiling.

"Yes?" she said, with her grey eyes on mine. Her eyebrows were raiseda little, and the soft lips had taken on the curve that tells oflaughter hardly controlled.

"Another look like that," said I, "and I'll give it you and pay thecarriage."

She broke into a long ripple of delight. Then she took her seat upon'The Nobleman's' broad edge and regarded me mischievously.

"I think you ought to apologize," she said severely.

"Who took me for a salesman?" said I.

"I never did that. You see, I've been looking at basins overthere"—she pointed in the direction of the iron doors—"and they saidif I came through here, I should find one of the partners. Besides, Iwasn't a bit sure when I first spoke, but, as you had no hat—And thenyou led me on. Still, I beg your pardon."

"Not at all. The partner's a very nice chap. And the mischief isreparable. I mean—"

"Where is the partner?"

"At the present moment I believe he's engaged in trying to efface theIndian Empire. Bit of a Socialist, you know," I added. "May I smoke?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Doesn't she know the word? Smoke, my dear. Draw into and expel fromthe mouth the fumes of burning tobac—"

"Idiot! About the Little Englander."

I explained.

"And now," I said, with a wave of my cigarette, "behold me once more atyour service. The gentle art of bathing, madam, is of considerableantiquity. In classical times the bath played a very prominent part inthe everyday existence of the cleanly nut. Then came a dead period inthe history of personal irrigation. Recently, however, the bath-ratehas once more gone up, immersion is again in vogue, and to-day in thebest circles scarcely a month passes without—

"And these"—she swept the nobility with a glance—"are the upper ten!"

"Precisely. You can tell that from their polish."

"Rather exclusive, aren't they?"

"Collectively, yes, madam. Individually, they will receive you withopen arms. Only last night an order arrived from—"

"I know. Madagascar. You're no good as a sales-man."

I drew myself up.

"From Honolulu, for twenty-two 'God-sends.'" I said icily."Madagascar's request was for 'Duchesses.'"

"That, over there, is a 'Wallsend,'—I mean 'God-send.'"

"And I suppose you've supplied Cochin China for years."

"One of our oldest clients," said I.

"You know," said she, "when I look round, I feel as if I had never seena bath before."

"I know. I felt just like that at first. And yet I have," I addedthoughtfully; "they had one at a hotel I stayed at last Easter. AtBiarritz, that was."

"I wish you'd be serious," she said, laughing. "Then you might be ofsome use."

"I don't think you're at all kind," said I, leaning against the screenof 'The Duchess' with a dejected air.

"Excuse me," she said, "but is that the Slinker Slouch I've heard of?Your attitude, I mean?"

"No," I said shortly. "It's the Leicester Lounge. But, to return toyour unkindness. I want a bath just as much as you do."

She recoiled. "You know what I mean. I'm a customer, like you. We'reboth in the same ba-boat. And I have been doing my best to indicatethe merits of—er—of—"

"The idle rich," she said, smiling. "Yes, but you see you shouldn'thave. When you saw me coming you ought to have—"

"Dodged behind a pillar, picked up my stick and gloves, and kept aboutten bath-lengths away, until the partner reappeared? No doubt. But,then, you shouldn't have looked so priceless, or worn your sense ofhumour on your sleeve. You shouldn't have had a small, straight noseor a mouth like a red flower. You shouldn't have walked like athoroughbred, or carried your clothes as if they were worth wearing.You shouldn't have had eyes I could see to read by, if the lightfailed."

"Finished?"

"No. But listen. I think I hear the partner coming—the genuinearticle, this time." There was no sound.

"Anyway," I went on, "he'll be back in a moment; and so, as I'm afraidI didn't consider you just now, I'll try and make up for it. Good-bye."

"But what about your bath? Have you seen one you like?"

"Yes," said I. "I have. One. Not a bath, though. But I can easilycome another day."

I turned resolutely away.

"I say," said the girl quietly.

I swung round and looked at her. She still sat upon the edge of 'TheNobleman,' her little gloved hands gripping the rim on either side ofher. Her face was raised a little, but she was looking down. Oneslight leg thrust out from under the blue frock, its dainty instepgleaming under the silk stocking. The ankle above it, very slender;the bucked shoe literally beaming with pride.

"Yes?" I said.

"I haven't seen a bath I like, either," she said simply.

At this moment the partner came bustling back, full of apologies.Stifling a desire to strangle him, I congratulated the good man uponthe condition of my hat, and turned to the girl.

"Then, as we both want to see some baths, perhaps we might look at sometogether?" I said.

"I think so."

"If you please, madam," said the partner. He turned to 'The Duchess.'"Now, this is a first-class bath. One of our very latest models. Onlythis morning we received an order from Ceylon ..."

Fortunately, we were both a little behind him.

No one can say that we did not weigh the merits of the various bathscarefully. We passed from one to another, asking questions, receivinginformation, examining, criticizing, discussing for over an hour. Fourtimes, to our great joy, the excellent partner actually climbed into abath, the more satisfactorily to emphasize its advantages. As he satthere, faithfully reproducing the various movements of the arms,universally, I suppose, employed in the process of ablution, the livingpicture which he presented, put an obviously severe strain upon thegravity of my companion. And when, in response to a daringly ingenuousthirst for intelligence on my part, he proceeded to demonstrate thecomparative ease with which a left-handed bather, suffering fromsciatica, could manipulate the taps from the wrong end of the bath, thegirl hurriedly sought the shelter of a convenient pillar to hide heropen merriment. We had a great time.

Finally, we each gave an order for a 'Pompadour, which seemed, on thewhole, to merit the palm. It was certainly the last word in the bathline.

While she was giving her name and the address of the home, which hernew bath was to adorn, I strolled a little apart, thinking. When shehad finished, the partner turned to me.

"I think I have the address, sir. The same as before?"

"That's right," said I. "I'm going down there on Tuesday. Could yousend a man down that day to see the room and take the measurements?I'd like to be there myself."

"Certainly, sir.

"Very well. He'd better come by the nine-thirty, which'll get him downin two hours. I'll send to meet him. I'm going down by car myself."

"Thank you, sir." He turned to the girl inquiringly. "Perhaps Tuesdaywould suit you, too, madam? I don't think you mentioned any particularday, and as it's the same station for both houses, madam—"

He broke off. She and I were staring at one another. Then:

"How awfully strange," we said in unison.

The partner being there, there was no more to be said.

"Tuesday will do very well," she said, turning to him.

Together he conducted us to the street. Then, might he send for ataxi? There was a rank... The idea of sending for two taxis neverseemed to enter his head. A good fellow, that partner. But, no thankyou, my lady would walk. Would pick up a cab presently.

"May I have the pleasure of seeing you to a taxi?" said I, naturallyenough.

"Thank you very much."

We bade the partner good-bye and turned in the direction of Westminster.

"You're sure it's not taking you out of your way?" said my companionwith an innocent look.

"Out of my way," said I. "D'you think I live at Tooting?"

She broke into a little laugh. I went on:

"And if I did. If I lived at Hither Green and was just going to missthe last tram, don't you think I'd er—miss it?"

"You're very kind," she said quietly.

"Not at all," said I, with a glance downward. "The small bright shoeis on the other exquisite—er—foot. It's very good of you to let mewalk with you, especially in view of my recent scandalous behaviour allamong the baths."

"Which reminds me, you were awful. I thought I should die, when youasked that poor man—"

"A wholesome thirst for knowledge, my dear. Talking of which, d'youknow it's getting on for half-past one?"

"Is it really?"

"It is, indeed. Time tears away sometimes, doesn't he?"

"Sometimes."

"You are sweet," said I. "However. About Time. He's a mocker of men,you know: very contrary. When he can serve, not he. When he cannot,he is willing enough. Beg him to hasten, he'll cock his hat and strollwith an air of leisure that makes us dance. Cry him to tarry, he isalready gone, the wind panting behind him. Bid him return, he is atonce all sympathy—grave sympathy: 'He may not. Otherwise he wouldhave been so pleased... Sorry. Rather like my brother-in-law. You'llmeet him at White Ladies."

"Is that where the bath's going?"

"Certainly. We shall be there in the spring. Will you come to ourbath-warming?"

"Perhaps."

We came to the bridge and the sunshine and the marching river, andbeyond these to Bridge Street and the green square. At the corner shehesitated.

"I think I'd better say good-bye now."

"I'm going to see a fellow," said I. "I wish you'd come with me."

A quick look of surprise. Then:

"Do I know him?"

"I think so. He's one of the Times. Lunch Time he's called; brotherof Half Time. Both sons of the old man."

She smiled.

"Ah," she said. "I've an appointment with him, too. Only mine's athome. I must be going. I'm keeping him waiting now."

She held out her hand. I looked at it.

"You've made a mistake," I said. "I know for a fact he's going to beat the Carlton."

"No good! I know the family. The father taught them all the trick ofbeing able to be in more than one place at the same time."

"All of them?"

"Yes."

"My dear, you're wrong. You've forgotten Mean. He's got a place atGreenwich, you know, and never leaves it. Well, I won't bother her,for she's been awfully sweet. Shall I call her a taxi?"

She nodded. "I don't think we ought to stand here any longer: theatmospheric pressure of the Labour party is already affecting mybreathing. Besides, any moment I might be mistaken for a CabinetMinister. I know a salesman's pretty bad, but I must draw the linesomewhere."

With that I hailed a taxi. As it was coming to the kerb:

"You're a dear C.B.," I said. "But I would have loved to have givenyou lunch."

She smiled gently.

"Would you?"

"You know I would, lass. Well, I shall look forward to you and thespring."

The cab drew up, and I opened the door. She stepped in.

"Where shall I tell him to go?"

For a moment she hesitated. Then she spoke slowly:

"Was it the Carlton you said?"

An hour later I stood once more at a taxi's door. Our luncheon wasover, and I was saying farewell.

"You've been awfully kind," said the girl.

"Good-bye," said I. "I shall look forward to you at White Ladies."

"And to the spring."

I bowed.

"My dear, the terms are synonymous."

The smile deepened.

"If this wasn't the Haymarket," said I...

She was gone, her eyes full of laughter.

I turned to see Berry three paces away.

"Helping the porter?" he said pleasantly. "I wondered where you gotthat two shillings from last week. But oughtn't you to be in uniform?I should have thought Nathans—"

"I've chosen a bath," I said, seeking to divert his thoughts. Afterall he might not have seen. "Fine big place. Stacks of baths, youknow. By the way, the office-boy took me for a commercial traveller, Iadded.

"Naturally. And the girl? Who did she take you for?"

I drew myself up.

"She's a C.B. too," I said loftily. "What more natural than that weshould—"

"C.B.?" said Berry scornfully. "Now, if you had said K.G.—"

I cut him short.

"You needn't tell the others," I said.

A fat grin stole into his face. He sighed.

"The call of duty, brother, however distasteful—"

"Look here," said I. "You know those new cigars at the club?"

"Yes," he said eagerly. "The half-a-crown ones."

"They're not new," I said uneasily.

"Never mind," he said airily, taking my arm. "I feel sure ahalf-a-crown cigar would affect my memory. And a dry Martini wouldprobably finish it."

I groaned.

"This is sheer blackmail," said I.

"Take it or leave it," said Berry, with the air of one who has thewhip-hand.

"All right," I said wearily.

"I should think so, my son. And cheap at the price, too."

On the whole I think it was.

CHAPTER XIII

A LUCID INTERVAL

"Ausgang verboten!" said the guard.

"Yes," said Berry. "You look it."

"Hush!" said Daphne.

"Hush yourself," replied her husband. "The man is ill. I wouldminister to him."

We got him away somehow and bore him towards a taxi. Before we couldstop him, he had congratulated the driver in excellent French on hisrecovery from the accident "which had so painfully disfigured him," andhad asked for the name and address of the man who had designed the bodyof his cab. This was too much for Daphne, and she and Jonah calledanother taxi, and said they would see us at the hotel. Satisfied thatthe conductor of the hotel omnibus was collecting our luggage, Ifollowed Jill and Berry into the cab, and we drove out of the station.

When we reached the hotel, Berry told the porter that he need notuncover, as he was travelling incognito, and asked if Mrs. Pleydell hadarrived. Receiving a negative answer, he gave the man five marks andasked him to be very careful as to the way he lifted the cat's basketout of his wife's cab. Then he suffered himself to be conducted to thesitting-room which I had engaged on the first floor.

Five minutes later Daphne burst into the room.

"What on earth's the matter with the people here?" she demanded. "Halfthe staff are feeling all over the inside of our cab, and the porterkeeps asking me if I'm sure the cat was put in at the station. Is thissome of your doing?"

"Possibly some idle banter—"

"I knew it," said Daphne. "If this is how you begin, we shan't get outof Munich alive."

Why we had chosen Munich is not very easy to tell. Of course, we oughtto have gone to Biarritz and taken the car, but they wouldn't havethat. Everybody had wanted to go to a different place. Berry's choicewas Minsk, because, he said, he wanted to rub up his Hebrew. Such asuggestion is characteristic of Berry. Then Munich was mentioned, andas no one had seemed very keen, no one had taken the trouble to be veryrude about it. Consequently, Munich won. A day or two after ourarrival, one of Wagner's triumphs was to be given at the Opera House,and, amid a scene of great excitement, Berry secured four tickets. Isay four because I mean four. I have never appreciated opera, and wasall along reluctant to go. But when I found that the show began athalf-past four, I put my foot down and reminded the others of theDaylight Saving Bill. With gusto they retorted that I had been to morematinees than they cared to remember. I replied that for a theatre tobegin at half-past four was out of all order and convenience, and that,as an Englishman and a member of a conservative club, I was notprepared to subscribe to such an unnatural arrangement.

"Brother," said Berry, "I weep for you. Not now, but in the privacy ofmy chamber I often weep great tears."

"Friend," said I, "your plain but honest face belies your words. Youdon't want to see the opera any more than I do, and now you're jealousbecause to-morrow I shall sit down to dinner comfortably while you aretrying to remember which of the sandwiches have mustard, and prayingthat the lights won't go up till your mouth's empty."

To the consternation of the assistants in the library, Berry coveredhis face with his hands.

"He thinks it decent to revile me," he said weakly. "Where is my wife,my helpmeet?"

But Daphne had already retired. As I left the shop, an American ladyapproached Berry and told him the way to the English chemist.

At five the next day it began to rain. I was in Maximilian Street atthe time, admiring the proportions of the thoroughfare and ready foranything. The rain suggested to me that I should take a taxi to theRumpelmayer's of Munich. A closed one was crawling by the kerbopposite to me, on the far side of the road. I put up my stick, and itslowed down. I crossed to it, spoke to the driver, who scowled at me,seemingly because I approached him from the road and not from thepavement—Munich is very particular—and got in. As I sat back in thedark corner, the opposite door opened. The light of the offside lampsshowed me two big, brown eyes, a dear, puzzled face, half wondering,half wanting to laugh, and a row of white teeth catching a red upperlip that trembled in a smile. The next moment their owner steppedquickly in, the driver let in his clutch with a jerk, and my unwittingcompanion was projected heavily into the corner—not mine—she had beenabout to occupy.

She swore gently.

"That's right," said I.

She jumped properly.

"Good Heavens!"

"I'm so sorry, but I'm all right," said I, "I assure you. Young man ofgentlemanly appearance. Harrow and Oxford, terms moderate, bathroomand domestic offices, possession early in June—"

"Get out of my cab at once."

"—will send photograph if required. Whose cab?"

"Well, I engaged it."

"So did I."

"When?"

"Just now."

"How awfully funny."

"Isn't it? I'm so glad. I'm English, too, you know. I can prove thatby my German. And—"

"But you don't want to go where I do."

"But I do."

"Don't be silly! You know what I mean."

At this moment the off hind wheel of a big limousine, which was passingus, caught our near front wheel. The steering-wheel was knocked out ofthe cabman's hands, and we landed up against a lamp-post with a crashthat flung my companion and myself on to the floor of the taxi. Thegirl cried out, put her small hand into my mouth, and sat up.

I spoke into her glove.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, but I think I'm going to cry."

"Don't, my dear. It's all right. All the same, it's an outrage and acasus belli. Where does the British Ambassador live?"

Here the door was opened. The girl released me to adjust her hat, andI rolled on to the step and sat looking at a tall footman, who raisedhis hat and said something in German. The next minute a lady appeared.She began to speak in German, then:

"Oh, you are English," she said. I rose and bowed stiffly.

"Yes, madame, I have that honour."

"I am so very sorry. I do hope you are not hurt."

"I am only shaken, thank you."

She looked into the cab. "My dear," she purred, "I am so terriblysorry. I hope you were not hurt either. I cannot say—"

"No, I'm all right, thank you. I'll get out."

Then she fainted. I caught her and carried her to the limousine. WhenI had set her on the deep seat, I turned to the lady.

"I do not know where she lives," I said. "We have only met casually."

"A physician?" she queried. "Had she better—"

"I don't think it is a case for a doctor. She has only fainted.Perhaps you—"

"I will attend to her, and when we get to the Opera House, my maid—"

She turned to the footman and seemed to tell him to stay behind and seeto the cabman and the police, who had come up. Then she stepped intothe car, and a moment later we were slipping silently up the street.By the lights in the car, I could see that our friend was a handsomewoman of perhaps thirty-eight. She was almost entirely enveloped in amagnificent sable coat: her head was bare. The great thing about herwas her exquisite voice. While her fingers were busy about the girl'shat and throat, the latter opened her eyes. Then she sat up and put herhand to her head.

"No, lean back, my dear," said our hostess. "I will spray you."

She sprayed her with eau-de-Cologne.

"That's lovely," said the girl, with closed eyes. "Thank you so much."

The other stopped for a moment to take off the jaunty little hat andlightly push the dark hair away from the white temples.

The girl thanked her with a smile. Then she started up again. "Oh,but where is—"

She saw me, and stopped, colouring.

"He is here, in the car."

She closed her eyes once more, and the colour had faded from her cheeksbefore she spoke again. "Where are we going?" she said.

"To the Opera House, dear. You see, I am singing there. I would takeyou home, but I am late now. My maid, she will make you comfortable. Ihave nice rooms at the theatre, quite an apartment." She turned to me.

"And you will come, too, please. There is plenty of room. Besides sheis in your charge."

"Of course," said I. "Thank you very much."

As she had said, a regular little suite had been allotted to ourhostess at the Opera House. As well as the dressingroom, there was abathroom and a large sitting-room, with flowers everywhere, andbeautifully furnished. Here I waited, wondering a little. The othershad passed into the dressing-room.

Presently Yvonne, the French maid, entered the room.

"Mademoiselle recovers, monsieur," she said, with a smile. "Also shedines here, and monsieur with her. It is all arranged.

"If you please," said I. It seemed about the best thing to say.

Very swiftly she laid the table for two—a cold chicken, some salad,rolls, and a bottle of champagne. Thank you.

"It is not much," said Yvonne apologetically. "Now at Madame's house—"

"Yvonne!" came from the dressing-room.

"Pardon, monsieur."

Yvonne disappeared. Five minutes later a telephone bell rang. Then thedressing-room door opened, and Madame came forth robed, and the girlwith her, looking as right as rain.

"That was my call," said our hostess. "I go to sing now. By the timeyou have finished, I shall be back, and then, later, if you would liketo sit in a box for a little while, it will be quiet for you both.Come, Yvonne."

She swept out of the room. Yvonne closed the door behind her.

"I like her," said I.

"She's a dear," said my companion.

"I like you, too," said I.

She swept me a curtsey.

"It was silly of me to faint."

"You did it so sweetly."

"This'll teach you not to take other people's taxis."

"On the contrary—

"Would you like to give me some chicken?"

"I should like—"

"Yes?"

She looked at me straight in the eyes.

I walked to the table and took up the knife and fork.

"Yes?"

I looked at her, smiling gloriously now.

"Oh, I'd like Berry to see us now."

She came across and laid a hand on my shoulder.

"I like you, too," she said.

We had a great meal. She didn't want to drink any champagne, but Ipersuaded her to take a little.

"And who's Berry?" she said, pushing back her chair.

"A mistake," said I. "A great mistake. That's what he is."

She laughed.

"Who made him?"

"My sister. She married him, you see."

"Of course, I shall get confused in a moment."

"Well, things have got a move on in the last hour and a quarter,haven't they? I mean to say, at five o'clock you found a stranger inyour taxi. Five minutes later you were smashed up. Now you're in aprima donna's room at the Opera House, eating a cold collation.Collation is good, isn't it?"

"Awfully? Where did you hear it?"

I frowned. "I came out top in dictation last term."

"Indeed? Genius and madness do go together, don't they? You are mad,aren't you?"

"Raving, my dear. I've been certified for two years come Ember. Outon licence under the new Cock and Bull Bill. You know, 'And yourpetitioners will ever Pray—'"

"I suppose you do have lucid intervals?"

"Only on third Tuesdays."

"Such as to-day."

"By Jove, so it is. I thought one was about due. Now I come to thinkof it, I nearly had one just now."

"When?"

"When you asked me what I should like."

In silence she traced a pattern upon the white cloth with a small pinkfinger. I watched it, and wondered whether her eyes were smiling. Icouldn't see them, but her mouth looked as if it wanted to. Then:

"I think you'd better tell me when the interval's coming," she saidquietly. "One usually goes out—"

"You're thinking of Plays," said I. "Between Acts II and III tenminutes and the safety curtain. But with Life and fools it'sdifferent. You don't go out in these intervals."

"No?"

"No," I said. "On the contrary, it's where you come in."

She looked up, smiling, at that. I addressed her eyes. "You see, inLife it's just the intervals that count—those rare hours when, thoughthe band's not playing, there's music in the air; though the world'sstanding still, and no one's looking on, there's most afoot; thoughthe—"

Here the door opened, and Madame came in, Yvonne at her heels.

"It is the interval," she explained. "Thank you."

Oh, but she was in fine fettle, was Madame.

"My voice is good to-night. It is you two that have helped me. Youare so young and goodly. And I have a box, the Royal box—they are notusing it, you see—if you would like to hear the rest of the opera.Yes? But you must come back and say 'Good night' to me afterwards."

Our murmured thanks she would have none of. Supper and a box waslittle enough. Had she not nearly killed us both an hour ago?

"But now I shall sing to you, and you will forgive me. I am in voiceto-night. Is it not so, Yvonne?"

"But, Madame!"

The ecstasy of Yvonne was almost pathetic.

The ceremony with which we were installed in the Royal box was worthyof the Regent himself. But then Madame was a very great lady. Thelights in the house did not go down for a minute, and I peered over therim of the balcony to see if I could locate Berry and Co. Suddenly Isaw Jill, and Berry next to her. He was staring straight at the Royalbox, and his face was a study. He must have seen me come in. Then thelights died, and the curtain went up.

The singing of Madame I cannot describe. It was not of this world.And we knew her. We were her friends. She was our hostess. To thehouse she was the great artiste—a name to whisper, a figurehead to bowbefore. For us, we were listening to the song of a friend. As she hadpromised, she sang to us. There was no mistaking it. And the greatcharm of her welled out in that wonderful voice. All the spirit ofmelody danced in her notes. When she was singing, there seemed to benone but us in the theatre, and soon no theatre—only us in the world.We two only stepped by her side, walked with her, understood.

Actually the girl and I sat spellbound, smiling down as she
smiled up from the stage. We knew afterwards that we had been sittinghand-in-hand, as children do.

At the end of it all the house rose at her. Never was there such ascene. We rose, too, and stood smiling. Somehow we did not applaud.She just smiled back.

"Shall we go?" said I.

"Yes."

As I turned to the door, I caught sight of four faces looking earnestlyup from the stalls. I bowed gravely. An attendant was waiting in thecorridor, and we were escorted through the iron door the way we hadcome.

Madame sat in a deep arm-chair in the sitting-room, her hair all abouther shoulders. She looked tired. Virtue had gone out of her.

"Ah, my dears," she said. My companion kneeled by her side and put herarms round her neck. Then she spoke and kissed her. I do not knowwhat she said. The other held her very close for a moment, then lookedat me and smiled. I raised her hand to my lips.

"I cannot say anything, Madame."

"It is all said. We have spoken together for the last half-hour. Isit not so?"

"It is so, Madame."

After a little, my companion said we must be going.

"He will see me to my hotel," she said.

"I do not like letting you go," said our hostess, "but I take long todress. My car shall carry you home and return for me. Yvonne, see tothat. Yes, there will be plenty of time. Besides, you have drivenenough in taxis for to-day. What have you lost, my dear?"

The girl was looking about her.

"I think I must have left it in the box—my chain bag. How silly!"

"My dear, I leave everything everywhere"

"I will get it," said I. Yvonne had gone for the car. Besides, Iwanted to go.

"Oh, thank you. It's quite a small gold—"

"I know it," said I, smiling.

"Can you find your way?" said Madame. "The house will be almost indarkness."

"Oh, yes, Madame."

A moment later I was in the corridor beyond the iron door. It wasquite dark, but twenty paces away a faint suggestion of light showedwhere the door of the Royal box stood open. When I reached it, I sawthat a solitary lamp was burning on the far side of the stalls. Afterglancing at it, the darkness of the box seemed more impenetrable. Ifelt for the little gold bag—on the balcony, on the chair, on thefloor. It was nowhere. I stood up and peered into the great, dimauditorium, wondering whether I dared strike a match. Fearing thatthere might be a fireman somewhere in the darkness, I abandoned theidea. The sudden flash might be seen, and then people would comerunning, and there would have to be explanations. I went down on myhands and knees, and felt round her chair and then mine, and then allover the box. Just as I got up, my right hand encountered somethinghard and shiny. Clearly it wasn't what I was looking for, but out ofcuriosity I stooped to feel it again. I groped in vain for a moment;then I put my hand full on the buckle of a patent-leather shoe. As myfingers closed about a warm ankle:

"Pardon, monsieur!" came a quick whisper.

I let go. "Is that you, Yvonne?"

"Si, monsieur."

"I never heard you come in."

"I have come this moment, and did not see monsieur in the dark. Madamehas sent me. Monsieur cannot find that little bag?"

"No. Do you think I might strike a match?"

"Ah, no, monsieur, not in the Opera House, They are so particular."

"I see—at least, I don't, and that's the trouble. However—"

I felt over the balcony again. No good.

"Where did mademoiselle sit, monsieur?"

"Where are you?"

I groped in the direction of the whisper and found an arm.

"In that chair there," I said, guiding her to it.

"Here, monsieur?"

"Yes, that's right."

I heard her hands groping about the chair and turned to try the flooron the other side again.

"I have it, monsieur."

"Well," said I, "I could have sworn I'd felt everywhere round thatchair."

She chinked the bag by way of answer.

"Anyway, we've got it," said I. "Come on." And I made for the door.Then I stopped to take one more look at the great house. As I did so,a woman appeared on the far side of the stalls. She paused for asecond to glance at herself in a mirror immediately under the solitaryelectric light. I recognized Yvonne. Then she passed on. Neither ofus spoke for a moment. Then:

"Why did you say you were Yvonne?" said I.

"Yvonne is my name, too."

"Were you afraid I might have a lucid interval?"

"Perhaps."

"Your fears are realized. I have—I'm having one now."

"How awful!"

"Isn't it? And now we've found your bag, would you mind if I lookedfor something else?"

"Something of yours or mine?"

"Something of yours?"

"Can I help you?" she said slowly.

"Materially."

With a little half laugh, half sob, a warm arm slid round my neck.

"Here they are!" she whispered.

Madame would not let us go till Yvonne had returned from the manager'soffice with the offer of a box for Thursday.

"So it is not 'Good-bye' and you will come and see me again. I singthen for the last time in Munich. I fear you cannot have your own box,though. The Regent is coming that night. It is too bad."

We laughed and bade her farewell.

As the car slowed down at my companion's hotel, the footman slid offthe front seat and opened the door. I got up and out of the car. As Iturned, I saw the girl pick up her gloves and leave the precious bag onthe seat.

"My dear, your bag—"

But, as she got out, the bag left the seat with her. By the lights inthe car I saw that it was attached to a chain about her neck; and thechain lay beneath her dress. I handed her out thoughtfully.

"Till Thursday, then," she said.

"Till to-morrow morning," said I.

She laughed.

"I think there ought to be an interval."

"Isn't that just what I'm saying? What about a luncheon intervalto-morrow?"

"Well, it mustn't be a lucid one"

"All right. I'll bring Jonah and Daphne."

"Mayn't I see the mistake?"

"If I can find him."

"Good-bye"

"Good-bye. I say—"

She turned, one small foot on the steps.

"I love your feet," I said.

"Anything else?"

"Yes. Do you always unfasten that chain and take off the bag when yougo to the theatre?"

She looked down at the little foot in its shining shoe. Then:

"Only on third Tuesdays," she said.

When I reached my hotel, I passed quickly upstairs to the sitting-room.

"Here he is," said Daphne "Come along, darling, and have some supper,and tell us all about it."

"Supper!" said Berry. "Woman, you forget yourself. You are no longeron the joy-wheel. My lord has dined."

"As a matter of fact, I have," said I. "Madame gave me some dinner atthe Opera House."

"Of course," said Berry.

"What did I say? We grovelling worms can gnaw our sandwiches the whilehe cracks bottles of—champagne, was it?"

I nodded.

Berry rose to his feet, and in a voice broken with emotion, called suchshades of his ancestors "as are on night duty" to witness."Hencefifth," he said, "I intend to lead a wicked life."

"Blackpool&msash;Conservative; no change," said Jonah.

Berry ignored the interruption. "Virtue may have its own cakes andale. I dare say it has. What of it? I never see any of them. Viceis more generous. Its patrons actually wallow in champagne. For me,the most beastly sandwiches I ever ate, and an expensive stall. Forhim, dinner with the prima donna and the Royal box. By the way, whodid the girl mistake you for? One of the attendants or the businessmanager?"

"Who was she?" said Jill.

"I don't know."

"Rot!" said Jonah.

"It's the truth."

"She looked rather a dear," said Daphne.

"She is. You'll meet her to-morrow. And Berry—she wants to meetBerry. She said so."

"There you are," said my brother-in-law. "Is my tie straight?"

I lighted a cigarette to conceal a smile.

CHAPTER XIV

A PRIVATE VIEW

When I had adjusted the cushions, I sank into the chair and sighed.

"What's that for?" said Daphne

"Sin," said I.

"Whose?"

"That of him who packed for me at the Blahs this morning. A sin ofomission rather than commission, though he did put my sponge-bag intomy collarcase," I added musingly. "They're both round, you see.Still, I pass that by."

"But what do you really complain of?" said Jill. "He's left mydressing-gown out."

"I expect he thought it was a loose cover," said Jonah. "It'll be senton all right," said Daphne "That's nothing. What about my fan?You're not a bit sorry for me about that."

"I have already been sorry about it. I was sorry for you on Fridayjust by the sideboard. I remember it perfectly. All the same, if youwill waste Berry's substance at places of entertainment in the WestEnd, and then fling a priceless heirloom down in the hall of thetheatre, you mustn't be surprised if some flat-footed seeker afterpleasure treads on it."

"He was a very nice man, and his feet weren't a bit flat."

"I believe you did it on purpose to get into conversation with him.Where's Berry?"

At that moment the gentleman in question walked across the lawn towardsus.

"Thank Heaven!" he said when he saw me. "I'm so glad you're back.I've run out of your cigarettes."

I handed him my case in silence.

"It's curious," he said, "how used one can get to inferior tobacco."

Tea appeared in serial form. After depositing the three-storied cakedish holder—or whatever the thing is called—with a to-be-completedair, the footman disappeared, to return a moment later with the teapotand hot water. As he turned to go:

"Bring me the tray that's on the billiard-table," said Berry. "Carryit carefully."

"Yes, sir.

"Without moving, we all observed one another, the eyes lookingsideways. You see, the tray bore a jig-saw. When I had left on theprevious Saturday for a week-end visit, we had done the top right-handcorner and half what looked as if it must be the left side. Most ofthis we had done on Friday evening; but artificial light is inclined tomilitate against the labourer, and at eleven o'clock Berry had sworntwice, shown us which pieces were missing, and related the true historyof poor Agatha Glynde, who spent more than a fortnight over 'DavidCopperfield' before she found out that the pieces had been mixed upwith those of Constable's 'Hay Wain.' This upset us so much that Jonahsaid he should try and get a question asked in the House about it, andwe decided to send the thing back the next day and demand the return ofthe money."

On the way up to bed, Daphne had asked me if I thought we could get"damages, or compensation, or something," and I had replied that, if wecould prove malice, they had undoubtedly brought themselves within thepale of the criminal law.

The next morning Jill had done nearly two more square inches beforebreakfast, and I missed the midday train to town.

"Hullo, you have got on!" I said, as the man set the tray and itsprecious burden gingerly on the grass in our midst.

"Aha, my friend," said Berry, "I thought you'd sit up! Yes, sir, thetract already developed represents no less an area than thirty-sixsquare inches—coldly calculated by me this afternoon during that fairhour which succeeds the sleep of repletion and the just—but the vastpossibilities which lie hidden beneath the surface of the undevelopedexpanse of picture are almost frightening. A land rich in minerals,teeming with virgin soil—a very Canaan of to-day. Does it not callyou, brother?"

"It does," said I. "I wish it didn't, because it's wicked waste oftime, but it does."

I kneeled down that I might the better appreciate their industry. Thejig-saw was called 'A Young Diana' and was alleged to be a reproductionof the picture of that name which had appeared in the Academy the yearbefore. I hardly remembered it. I gazed admiringly at the two cloudsdrifting alone at the top right-hand corner, the solitary hoof plantedupon a slice of green sward, the ragged suggestion of forest land inthe distance, and a ladder of enormous length, which appeared topossess something of that spirit of independence which distinguishedMahomet's coffin. In other words, it was self-supporting. After acareful scrutiny, I rose to my feet, took a pace or two backwards, andput my head on one side. Then:

"I like it," I said. "I like it. Some people might say it looked alittle crude or unfinished; but, to my mind, that but preserves, as itwere, the spirit of barbarism which the title suggests."

"Suggestion as opposed to realization," said Berry, "is the rule bywhich we work. To the jaded appet—imagination the hoof suggests ahorse. It is up to you to imagine the horse. We have, as it were,with an effort set in motion the long unused machinery of your brain.It is for you, brother, to carry on the good work. Please pass outquietly. There will be collection plates at both doors."

"You're not to touch it yet," said Daphne. "I want to talk aboutabroad first. If we're really going, we must settle things."

"Of course we're going," said Berry. "I ordered a yachting capyesterday."

"What's that for?" said Jill.

"Well, we're not going to fly across the Channel, are we? Besidesthat, supposing we go to Lucerne part of the time?"

"What about taking the car?" said Daphne.

"It's expensive," said Berry moodily, "but I don't see how else we cansatisfactorily sustain the flow of bloated plutocracy which at presentoozes from us."

We all agreed that the car must come. Then arose the burning questionof where to go. In a rash moment Jill murmured something aboutMontenegro.

"Montenegro?" said Berry, with a carelessness that should have put heron her guard.

"Yes," said Jill. "I heard someone talking about it when I was diningwith the Bedells. It sounded priceless. I had a sort of idea it wasquite small, and had a prince, but it's really quite big, and it's gota king over it, and they all wear the old picturesque dress, and thescenery's gorgeous. And, if it was wet, we could go to the—the—"

"Kursaal," said Berry. "No, not Kursaal. It's like that, though."

"Casino?"

"That's it—Casino. And then we could go on to Nice and Cannes, and—"

"You're going too fast, aren't you? Servia comes before Cannes,doesn't it?"

"Well, Servia, too."

"All right," said Berry. "I was going to suggest that we joined theDanube at Limoges, went up as far as Milan, where the falls are, andthen struck off to Toledo, taking Warsaw on the way, but—"

"That'd be rather a long way round, wouldn't it?" said Jill, allseriousness in her grey eyes.

"Ah, I mean the Spanish Toledo, not the one in the States."

"Oh, I see—"

She checked herself suddenly and looked round. "He's laughing at me,"she said. "What have I said wrong?"

"If anyone asked me where we should be without our Jill," said Berry,"I couldn't tell them."

When we began to discuss the tour in good earnest, the argument properbegan. I had suggested that we should make for Frankfort, to startwith, and Daphne and Jonah rather favoured Germany. Berry, however,wanted to go to Austria. It was after a casual enough remark ofJonah's that the roads in Germany were very good that Berry really gotgoing.

"The roads good?" he said. "That settles it—say no more. Thesurvey, which is, after all, the object of our holiday (sic), will beable to be made with success. If we start at once, we shall be able toget the book published by Christmas: 'Road Surfaces in Germany,' by aHog."

"The old German towns are fascinating," said Daphne.

"Nothing like them," said Berry. "I can smell some of them now. Canyou not hear the cheerful din of the iron tires upon the cobbledstreets? Can you not see the grateful smile spreading over thebeer-sodden features of the cathedral verger, as he pockets the moneywe pay for the privilege of following an objectionable rabble round anedifice, which we shall remember more for the biting chill of itsatmosphere than anything else? And then the musty quiet of themuseums, and the miles we shall cover in the picture galleries, haltingnow and then to do a brief gloat in front of one of Van Stunk'smasterpieces..."

"My heart leaps up when I behold a Van Stunk on the wall. Wordsworthknew his Englishman, didn't he?"

"Oh, well, if you're so dead against it—"

"Against it, dear. How can I be against it? Why, we may even bearrested as spies! There"—he looked round triumphantly—"who shallsay that the age of romance is dead? Let us go forth and languish in aGerman gaol. Think of the notices we shall get in the papers! We'llgive our photographs to The Daily Glass before we start. I expect weshall see one another in the chapel on Sundays, and I shall write toyou in blood every day, darling, on a piece of my mattress. Theletters will always be in the top left-hand corner of the steakpudding. Don't say I didn't tell you where to look."

"We shall be able to talk," said I—"by rapping on the wall, I mean."

"Certainly. Once for the letter A, twice for the chambermaid, threetimes for the boots. In the meantime, Jonah and you will each haveremoved a large stone from the floor of your cells by means of a nailwhich he found in his soup. Say you work sixteen hours out of thetwenty-four you ought to have burrowed outside the gates in about fiveyears."

Jill shuddered. "Austria would be rather nice, just now, wouldn't it?"she ventured.

"We could go high up if it got hot, of course," said Daphne slowly,"and the air's nice—"

"I'll find out what we do about shipping the car on Friday," said Berry.

I must have been tired, for I never heard the tea-things taken away.When I opened my eyes, Berry and Co. had gone. I looked at the jig-sawand began to wonder what had waked me.

"First of all," said a quiet voice, "I take five and three-quarters.Do you think you can remember that?"

"I'll try. Long ones, of course."

"Yes, please. Not the ordinary white kid: I like the fawn suede ones."

"With pleasure."

"And now, please, can I be shown over the house?"

I turned and regarded her. Sitting easily in a chair to my right, anda little behind me, she was holding out to me a slip of paper. I tookit mechanically but I did not look at it.

"Don't move for a minute or two," I said. "You look absolutelysplendid like that."

She smiled. I rather think her frock was of linen—at any rate, it wasblue. Her large straw hat was blue, too, and so were her smart Frenchgloves and her dainty shoes; her ankles were very pretty, but hercomplexion was the thing: She had one of the clearest skins I haveever seen, and the delicate bloom of her cheeks was a wonder in itself.I could not well see her eyes, for she was sitting with her head thrownback—her gloved right hand behind it holding down the brim of herhat—and as she was looking at me and not up into the sky, they werealmost hidden by their lids. Her left arm lay carelessly along the armof the chair, and, her sleeve being loose and open, I could see half adozen inches of warm pink arm. I just looked at her.

"Done?" she said.

"Not quite." I have said before, and I say again, that girls of thistype ought not to be allowed to raise their eyebrows and smile faintlyat the same moment. It amounts to a technical assault. I fancy shesaw me set my teeth, for the next moment she put up her left hand andbent the broad blue rim over her face.

"Early closing day," she said. I contemplated her ankles in silence.After a minute:

"Well?" said my companion from behind the brim.

"I hate it when the blinds are down," said I, "but—"

"But what?"

"Happily, they are only short blinds. In other words, just as theostrich, when pursued, is said to thrust its head into the sand,believing—"

"And now please can I be shown over the house?"

I glanced at the order-to-view which she had handed me. It referred toThe Grange, which stood in its own grounds about half a mile away. Itslodge gates were rather like ours. The same mistake had been madebefore.

"The agent at Bettshanger gave me that to-day, and I motored over thisafternoon. The car's outside. I was walking up the drive—how prettyit all is!—when I saw you asleep here. I suppose I ought to have goneup to the house really, but it looked so nice and cool here that I cameand sat down instead and waited for you to wake."

"I'm so glad you did."

"Why?"

"Well, you see, they're rather a queer lot up there at the house—mighthave said you couldn't see over, or something."

She opened her big eyes.

"But I've got an order."

"That's the worst of it. They'll take orders from no one. Once they'dcaught sight of it, you would have been blindfolded and led back to thevillage by a circuitous route."

"Nonsense!"

"It's a fact. But I'll show you round, all right. Anything I can tellyou about the place before we move?"

She regarded me suspiciously. Then:

"Is there a billiard-room?" she said.

"Certainly. And a table complete with three balls, one of latestmodels—slate bed, pneumatic cushions. Be careful of the top one; itbust the other day. The butler had pumped it up too tight."

"Servants' hall?"

"Every time. All the domestic offices are noble."

"Telephone?"

"Of course. In case of fire, call 'Fire Brigade.' No number required.Speak direct to fire-station. Give address of fire."

"That's useful."

"Rather! You'll have them up under the hour, if they can get thehorses."

"All the same, I don't think we shall come here. You see, I didn'tknow it was an asylum."

"It's very cheap," said I. "I can do it at ten guineas a week—withoutthe inspection-pit, that is."

She leaned forward and laughed. "Oh dear!" she said, "what a thing itis to be really silly sometimes!"

She got up and smoothed down her dress.

"And now, please, can I be shown over the house?"

"With pleasure," I said, getting up. "That is, unless you'd rather seeThe Grange first."

She stared at me for a moment, then she snatched the order out of myhand. "What's this place?" she demanded.

"White Ladies."

"Are you trying to let it?"

"Well, we haven't thought—"

"And you've let me sit here all this time making a fool of myself, whenyou knew perfectly well—"

"Five and three-quarters, was it?"

She stamped her foot.

"Dear pretty Girl Blue, don't be angry."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

"I know, but I'm so busy just now that it's done for me. My sister isashamed of me every evening at eight—fifteen. Matinees on Wednesdaysat two. Could you come one day?"

She laughed in spite of herself. Then:

"And now where is this Grange place?"

"Next but one on the right, but it looks rotten in the evening."

"It's only just five."

"Besides, they had measles there last May—stacks of them."

"Stacks of what?"

"Measles. One of them escaped one day and was brought back by thevillage corner-boy. He said he'd have kept it, only he hadn't got adog licence."

"But The Grange has got a ghost, hasn't it? And I love ghosts."

"The Grey Lady? My dear, she's gone. Always used to walk the backstairs on third Fridays, and one night the servants left the lights on.She gave notice the next day. Wanted a change, I think. You see,she'd been in one place nearly two hundred years. Besides, the stairswere bad."

"It's a nice house, isn't it?"

"Pretty well. But it hasn't got a priest's hole."

"What does that matter?"

"Well, where are you going to keep the gorgonzolas?"

She leaned on the back of a chair and began to laugh helplessly.Presently:

"You wretched man!" she said. "I'm really awfully angry with you."

"I knew it."

"Be quiet. You've wasted my time here until it's too late for me tosee The Grange, and what on earth I shall tell father I don't know."

"He's not outside?"

"In the car? You don't think I should still be here if he was? No, Icame over alone."

"That's all right. Now you'll be able to help me with this jig-saw."

She gave rather a good gasp at that.

"Girl Blue, please. You've heaps of time, because, if you'd gone toThe Grange, you wouldn't have got away yet. And it's a nice jig-saw,quite one of the family."

"Eats out of your hand, I suppose?"

"Rather. And sits up and barks for Baldwin and all the rest of it. 'AYoung Diana' it's called. Appeared in last year's Academy, and—"

But she was down on her knees on the lawn, staring at the tray by now.I joined her, wondering a little.

"That's a bit of Merrylegs," she said, picking up one of the pieces,"and there's another. That's a bit of her dear nose, and there's herwhite stocking. Look here, we'll do her first."

I sat down on the turf and looked at her. "Either," I saidslowly—"either you're a witch, and that isn't allowed, or else you'vehad to learn this picture some time as a punishment."

She laughed. "I sat for it," she explained. "That's all."

It was my turn to gasp.

"It's hanging in the dining-room at home now. Come along. There's abit of my habit. Keep it with Merrylegs. I'll fit them together in aminute."

I took off my coat, kneeled down beside her, and began to receiveMerrylegs piecemeal. When she had picked out all of the mare, shecleared a little space, and began fitting the bits together at a ratethat was astonishing. Then she turned her attention to the background.Laid upon its side, the mysterious ladder became a distant fence, andlittle by little a landscape grew into being under her small fingers.Suddenly she caught my arm.

"Somebody's coming!" she whispered.

I heard footsteps crunch on a path's gravel, then all was silent again.Whoever it was, was coming towards us over the lawn. A clump ofrhododendrons hid us from them, and them from us.

"Behind there!" I whispered, pointing to three tall elms at our back,which grew so close together that they formed a giant screen. She wasout of sight in a second, and I had just time to throw my coat over thejig-saw and sit down upon the glove she had dropped before Berryappeared.

"Hullo!" he said.

"Hullo!" said I.

"What are you doing?"

"Doing?"

"Yes, you know—executing, performing, carrying out?"

"Go away!" I said. "You are trespassing upon a private reverie.Didn't you see the notice?"

He shook his head. "You have, as it were, burst rudely open the doorof the brown study in which I am communing with Nature and one or twoof my imagination's friends. Kindly apologize and withdraw, closingthe door as you go."

"All right, Omar. Where's your Thou?"

"You frightened her away."

Berry grinned. "Heard the pattering of my little feet, I suppose!"

"Yes. She wouldn't believe it was only footsteps, but let that pass.If she were to hear the same noise—forgive me—retreating, she wouldprobably return."

"Really think so?"

"That is my steadfast conviction."

"Well, you go indoors, and we'll see. If I don't follow you in fiveminutes, you'll know you're right."

"Friend," said I, "the indecency of your suggestion is almostgrotesque. To impose upon a timid, trusting Thou is either base ordastardly—I forget which. I am glad none of the others were here tohear what I feel sure to have been but a thoughtless, idle word. Ishan't say anything about it, so no one, except you and me, will everknow; and even if I cannot ever forget, I shall come to forgive it inyears to come."

"Time will heal the wound, brother. Till then, where's the jig-saw?"

"An evil beast hath devoured it. It is, without doubt, rent in pieces."

"In which case I shall prefer a bill of indictment against you asaccessory for mutilation next autumn assize. I warn you."

"Thanks! I shall see you at dinner, shan't I? Not that I want to, butI just shall."

Berry sighed. "From your manner, more than from what you say, anyonewould think you wanted me to go, old chap. Of course, I know you, soit doesn't matter; but you ought to be more careful. No, I've nottaken offence, because I know none was meant; but I'm going to go justto teach you a lesson. Yes, I am. Give my love to Thou, won't you?"

"Certainly not! She's had one shock already this afternoon."

"Oh, was to-day the first time she'd seen you?"

He strolled back to the house. When I heard his footsteps on thegravel again, I got up and peered through the rhododendrons. I watchedhim go indoors, and turned to see the girl once more on her knees bythe jig-saw. I kneeled opposite her and watched her at work. After amoment she glanced up and met my eyes.

"You'll see the picture better from this side," she said.

"Which picture?"

"Round you come!"

I crawled to her side with a sigh. On she went at a wonderful
pace. Old elms rose up in the background, a splash of red and brownresolved itself into a sunny farm, and four pieces which Berry hadrecognized as water went to make up a sheltered haystack. When it wasnearly finished, she leaned across me and looked at my wrist-watch.

"I'll just have time," she whispered half to herself.

"Only just?"

"Only just. Did you speak?"

"Yes, I did. I said 'Damn!' And I'll say it again."

She leaned on my shoulder and laughed for a second. Then:

"I'm sure you wouldn't find that in the Rubaiyat."

"Perhaps Thou didn't have to be back in time for dinner."

She fell to work again, but I could see she was smiling. The loosepieces left were very few now. A tuft of grass fell into place, a wispof smoke stole out of the farmhouse chimney, a quick-set hedge sprangup in the distance, landscape and sky merged on the horizon, and thething was done.

She sat back on her heels and regarded it for a moment. Then sheslipped sideways on to the lawn, smoothed down her frock, and looked atme.

"Not bad, is it?" she said.

"It's sweet!"

"You ought to see the original."

"I have. That's why I love it. I shall have it framed and keep it inmemory of this private view."

"Sentiment, with a vengeance."

"What if it is, Girl Blue?"

For answer, she began to pull on her gloves. I watched her in
silence. When they were both on, she rose, and so did I.

"I'll go as I came," she said. "Don't come with me to the gate."

I bowed. She put out her hand. I bent over it.

"Good-bye," I said.

"Good-bye, and—and thanks for—"

"For what, Girl Blue?"

"For not asking any questions."

I smiled and turned away. Then I kneeled down suddenly and kissed theface that looked up out of the picture, the face that would have meantnothing two hours before, the face that looked out into the clearbreeze and over the open country, the face that—

"As this is quite a private view," said the original, speaking veryslowly, "and as to-morrow you won't be able to—"

I didn't hear the rest of the sentence.

Before I had finished my second cigarette, Berry, Daphne, and Jill cameround the bank of rhododendrons.

"Why, Boy," said Jill, "have you been here all the time?"

A cry from Daphne interrupted her.

The next moment they were all down on their knees poring over my latecompanion's handiwork. A moment later, as with one consent, they alllooked up and stared at me. I looked away and smoked with carelessdeliberation.

"How on earth have you done it?" gasped Daphne.

"Done what?" said I. "Oh, that? Oh, it wasn't very hard!"

"You must be better at them than you were on Saturday," said Jill."Have you been practising at the Blahs?"

I felt Berry was looking at me, and waited.

"Then it was a glove you were sitting on," he said slowly. Berry's anut—every time.

It was the first week in October, and we were back in town. They wereall out but me. Sunday afternoon it was, and I was alone in thelibrary finishing a little work. I do work sometimes. Suddenly thetelephone went. I picked up the receiver.

"Is that the garage?" said Girl Blue.

"No, dear. It's me. How are you?"

"Why, it's you!"

"I know. I said so just now. You're looking splendid. Oh, I am glad!I've waited such a long time!"

"You must thank the Exchange, not me."

"Don't rub it in!"

"Well, good-bye."

"I don't think you're very kind, Girl Blue."

"No?"

"No, I don't! I've got the gloves, by the way."

"Thank you."

"I'll send them to you, care of Charing Cross Post Office, if you like,unless you'd rather I buried them six paces due east of the fourteenthlamp-post on the west side of Edgware Road."

"I think," she said slowly, "I think I may as well take them with me."

"Certainly, madam. Sign, please! But when, dear?"

"Well, I shall be at the Albert Hall next Friday."

"Girl Blue!"

"I don't suppose you're going, but perhaps you could send them bysomeone who—"

"Under what symbol shall I meet her?"

"Wait a moment! You shall have the seventh waltz—"

"Only seven? Where is he? What is his name?"

"You heard what I said. And we'll meet under—oh, under—"

"Mistletoe," said I. "Good-bye!"

"Good-bye! Oh, Girl Blue, I forgot to say—"

"Number, please!" said Exchange.

"You've cut me off!" I roared.

"Sorry."

A pause. Then:

"Here you are."

"Hullo, dear!" I said.

"Is that the cab rank?" said a man's fat voice.

"No, it isn't," said I. "And you've got an ugly face and flat feet,and I hate you!"

Then I rang off.

CHAPTER XV

ALL FOUND

I had seen her but once before, and that was at the Savoy on New Year'sEve. She had been with her party at one table, and I with mine atanother. And in the midst of the reveling I had chanced to look up andinto one of the great mirrors which made a panel upon the wall. ThereI had seen the girl, sitting back in her chair, smiling and fresh andwhite-shouldered, in a dress of black and gold, her fingers about thestem of her goblet. Not talking, listening, rather, to the words of aman at her side, whose eyes were watching her smiling lips somewhatgreedily. He had red hair, I remember, and a moustache brushed up tohide a long upper lip. And, as I looked, she also had looked up, andour eyes had met. There and then I had raised my wine and toastedher—her of the looking-glass. The smile had deepened. Then she hadraised her glass, and drunk to me in return. That was all. And whenBerry had leaned across the table and asked:

"Who's your friend?"

"I wish I knew."

"Pshaw!" said my brother-in-law. "I say it deliberately."

"I drank to a thought," said I. "Believe me." After all, a thought isa reflection. And now here she was, sitting in the grass by thewayside.

"She's brown, isn't she?" said I.

"As a berry. I like his breeches."

I bowed. "Thank you. And for you,'picturesque' is the word—one ofthe words. Shall I compare you to a summer's day?"

"I'd rather you collected that cow. She's getting too near the riverfor my liking. I'm looking after the dears."

"Are you?" said I. "But-"

"But what?"

"'Quis custodiet—'"

The apple she threw passed over my shoulder.

Mountains and valleys, swift rivers and curling roads, here and there avillage shining in the hot sun, and once in a while a castle in thewoods, white-walled, red-roofed, peaceful enough now in its old age,but hinting at wild oats sown and reaped when it was young. Hintingbroadly, too. At nights shaken with the flare of torches and the clashof arms, at oaths and laughter and the tinkle of spurs on the wornsteps, at threats and bloodlettings and all the good old ways, nowdead, out of date, and less indebted to memory than imagination. Andthen at galleries with creaking floors, at arras and the rustle of adress; whisperings, too, and the proud flash of eyes, hands lily-white,whose fingers men must kiss and in the eyes mirror themselves. Butthese things are not dead. Old-fashioned wrath is over—gone to itslong home: love is not even wrinkled. Yet again it was before wrath...

I set out to describe the province of Krain, and now I have strayedfrom the highway up one of those curling roads to one of those whitecastles, only to lose myself in the thicket of Romance beyond. Perhapsit does not matter. Anyway, it was on the slope of a green meadow allamong the mountains of Krain that the girl was sitting, herselfunminded, minding her cows. And out of the woods above her a round,white tower proclaimed a chateau set on the shoulder of a hill.

Her dress was that of the country, and yet, perhaps, rather such asCroatian peasants wear. All white linen, embroidered ever so richly,cut low and round at the neck, and with the skirt falling some fourinches below her knee: short sleeves, a small, white apron, and overher thick, fair hair a bright red kerchief. But her stockings were ofwhite silk, and small, black buckled slippers kept the little feet.Clear, blue eyes hers, and a small merry mouth, and a skin after thesun's own heart. It was so brown—such an even, delicate brown. Browncheeks and temples, brown arms and hands, brown throat. Oh, verypicturesque.

I rounded up the cow errant, returned to my lady, and took my seat byher side.

"Thank you," she said. "And now, who are you and what do you want?"

"My name," said I, "is Norval. And I want to know the way to thepageant-ground, and when does your scene come on?"

"It is a nice dress, isn't it?"

She rose and stood smoothing her frock and apron.

"Sweet. Only you ought to have bare brown legs."

"My dear man, this isn't the Garden of Eden."

"No? Some other Paradise, I suppose. Old Omar's, perhaps. Besides, Iforgot. Dolls never go barefoot, do they?"

"Dolls?"

"Yes. Aren't you the 'great big beautiful doll' they sing of?"

She threw back her head, and laughed at that, pleasedly. Then shebegan to sing softly:

"Oh, you beautiful doll, You great big beautiful doll..."

We finished the verse together, the cows watching us with big eyes.

"I think we're rather good," said I, when it was over.

"I know we're both mad," said she. "And I don't feel a bit likesinging really, either."

"Oh, great and beautiful one," said I, "what is the matter? Indicateto me the fly that dares to lurk in this fair bowl of ointment."

She looked away over the river. Then:

"After all, it's nothing to do with you."

"Nothing whatever." said I.

"Then why do you ask?"

"Something to say, I suppose. Is not the clemency of the weatherdelightful?"

"Yes, but those cows belong to me."

I laughed scornfully. Then:

"My aunt has four eggs," I said simply.

She turned away, ostensibly to pick a flower, but I saw her shouldersshaking. At length:

"There is a pig in the grass," she said. "Its name is Norval."

"The doll is on its hind legs," I replied, getting up. "As for me, isit not that I shall have been about to go? Adieu, mademoiselle."

"Er—au revoir, monsieur."

"That's better," said I. "And now, what's the trouble, my dear?"

Well, it was about the chauffeur. You see, she was spending the summerhere in the chateau. Yes, the chateau above us, white on the hillside.She and a companion—a girl—alone, with a household of their own, veryhappy, very comfortable...

"We are really, you know. Don't think we're suffragists. Truth is,I'd got about sick of men, and thought I'd take a rest. I heard ofthis old place to be let furnished, came to see if it was half as niceas it sounded, and never even went back to England to collect Betty.Just couldn't leave it. Betty followed post-haste with the servantsand heavy luggage, and—and—"

"And the parrot?" I hazarded.

"No. Oh, the linen and everything. I'd got the car with me. We'vebeen here nearly two months now, and I love it more every day. Don'tmiss men a bit, either."

This last in an inimitable tone, half nonchalant, half defiant.

"I expect they do most of the missing."

"Thanks, awfully. However, I may tell you the family's been rathernarky—"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Narky. Like a nark."

"Of course. How stupid of me! Same root as 'snirksome.' As you were."

"Well, rather ratty about it all. Said it was all ridiculous andunheard of."

"Did they use the word 'proceeding'?"

"They did."

"Ah!"

"The one thing that sort of stopped them from really doing anything wasthe fact that Betty was with me. Betty's dear, and they all know it.And her being here, I suppose, seemed to save it from being what'scalled an 'impossible position.' Well, a week ago comes a letter fromthe Brethes—that's my uncle and aunt—saying they're motoring throughAustria to Italy, and are going to stay a night at Laipnik on the way.Would like to run over and see me, as they understand Savavic—that'sme—is only thirty miles away. All very nice."

"Sweet of them." I agreed.

"Isn't it! Only, three days ago Betty gets a wire to say her mother'sill, and she has to bolt for the night train to Paris."

"Yes. So that uncle dear mustn't come to Savavic at any price. If hedoes, Betty's absence becomes apparent, and the good old 'impossibleposition' arises at once. Consequently, I send a nice letter to theone hotel at Laipnik 'to await arrival,' saying the road's so bad andhard to find that I'll come over to them instead of their coming here."

"Much as you would have loved them to see Savavic."

"Exactly. You're rather intelligent."

"Oh, I'm often like that. It's in the blood. Grandpa got his B.A.," Iexplained. "We've loaned his hood to the Wallace Collection. Go on."

"Well, that all sounds very nice and easy, doesn't it? Then, to putthe lid on, my chauffeur breaks his arm yesterday afternoon."

"And the uncle's due when?"

"Slept at Laipnik last night. I was to have lunched with themto-day. Oh, the fat's in the fire all right this time. I may expectthem any time after three." I reflected a moment. Then:

"I'll drive you to Laipnik," said I. "I'm as safe as a house at thewheel."

"You're awfully good and kind," said the girl, shaking her head, "butit's no good. Think. How on earth would I explain you?"

"It is unnecessary to explain a chauffeur."

"Oh, but you can't—"

"Certainly I can. At any rate, I'm going to. Come along and getchanged, mistress."

I scrambled to my feet.

"If you'll show me the way to the garage, I'll be looking over the car.What is she, by the way? And where does your late chauffeur keep hisboots?"

"Are you an angel?" said the girl, getting up.

"Who told you?" said I.

The boots were much too big and the gaiters a little small. Still,they did. A long dust-coat came down over the tops of the gaiters,making the uniform unnecessary. I took the cap to wear when we reachedthe town. Gloves, near enough. It was a big, open car, and all theway to Laipnik the girl, looking priceless in a fawn-coloured dress,sat by my side. We went like the wind. After a while:

"He drives well," said my companion, half to herself.

"Thank you, beautiful doll—I should say madam. Is that right?"

"Quite, thanks. How are the boots?"

"A bit spacious. I'm afraid I've lost one of my toes already."

"You poor man. Which one?"

"Baldwin," said I. "He's got separated from the others, you know.I'll be able to look for him when we get to Laipnik. Told them to keeptogether, too," I added bitterly.

She gave a little peal of laughter. Then:

"How tiresome" she said. "And I'm afraid your calves weren't made forthose gaiters."

"I admit they don't fit as well as your stockings, but—"

"Norval."

"Madam?"

"Behave yourself."

"Very good, madam. By the way, what about my wages?"

"What do you suggest? I shan't object to anything reasonable."

"No? Well, I was getting eleven-three a yar—day in my last place, andall found—especially all."

"'All found''s rather a dangerous phrase."

"Not at all. It only means washing and beer and the English papers,when you've done with them, and meat on Sundays. A smile, too, whenI'm tired, and a word of thanks after seventy miles in the rain with ahead wind."

"It might cover a multitude of sins, Norval."

Here I saved a dog's life and passed two wagons before their drivershad had time to inspire the horses with the terror they feltthemselves. Then:

"All found's all right, if you know your man," said I.

"But I don't."

I caught her laughing eyes in the windscreen, and straightway drank tothem from an imaginary wine-glass. She smiled gently, and the eyeslooked away with the look that sees at once not at all and yetfarthest. She was gazing down the vista of memory.

"Then it's a compact," I said quietly. "Sealed with a drink."

"I never drank to you this time, Norval."

"Yes, you did," said I. "Only with thine eyes, doll beautiful."

"You forget yourself."

"I remember you. You were wearing a black and gold dress. Sweet youlooked."

She turned away and pointed to a church we were leaving on our right.

"That," she said, "is a church."

"You amaze me. I thought it was a swimming-bath."

She bit the lip that wanted to smile.

"To return to you, who are my mutton, I wish this road wasn't sonarrow. I can't look at you except in the screen."

"We first met in a looking-glass."

"True. But now I want something more—more tangible."

"Indeed?"

I glanced down. "At any rate, I've got your feet, bless them. I shallcompose a sonnet to them, beautiful doll."

"And I'll write an epic about yours."

Five minutes passed. "How's the epic going?" said I.

"I've only done four lines."

"Let's have them."

"The beetling beetle-crushing baulks of boots
Crashed on their thunderous way, while men-at-arms,
Who knew no fear, shuddered and crossed themselves,
And little children whimpered with a fright
Too fierce for tears."

"Very good," said I. "Now you shall have mine.

I thought they were stars,
And I know they were shining,
But so brightly. The daintiest things that were ever created.
They danced on my heart from the moment I saw them,
But so lightly
That while they were there my heart became lighter,
Yet on it they made an enduring impression,
Lasting and deep.
Fairies' steps may be slighter,
But so slightly.
You'll think I am mad, but I'm only a blighter.
I thought they were stars, And I know they were shining."

"Thank you very much. I didn't know you were a poet."

"Nor was I till I entered your service," said I.

So presently we came to Laipnik. I stopped outside the little town,put on my cap, and settled the girl on the back seat. Five minuteslater we rolled up to the hotel.

On the steps stood a stout man with a serious face, lookingsuspiciously at the cigar he had just lighted.

"Hullo, Uncle Dick," said my mistress.

"My dear child, I am glad you've come. You aunt's upstairs rathertired, but wild to see you. We're going to stay another night here andgo on early tomorrow."

"Are you? I'll come up at once."

I opened the door of the car and handed her out. She kissed herrelative and turned to me.

"Er—will you—er—"

I coughed.

"You will get your own lunch, Norval, and come to the office for ordersat half-past two."

"Very good, madam."

As I raised my cap:

"Oh, I feel such a beast," she murmured.

I never gave Berry and the others a thought till I had eaten my lunchand was musing over my coffee with a cigarette. They were coming inthe car from Salzburg, and were going to join me this evening at a farmcalled Poganec, where I had slept last night and where we were allgoing to stay. We had told people we were going to fish. I thinkJonah meant it. We others were going to sleep and watch him and sleepagain. Now, Poganec and Savavic were only seven miles apart, and wereserved by the same post office. In fact, they were at opposite ends ofthe same valley, in the midst of which, half-way between the two, ourcommon village slept in the hot sun. It was in the course of my firstwalk that I had come upon Savavic. And now, instead of being atPoganec to welcome them this afternoon, here was I at Laipnikpretending to be a chauffeur. What did it matter? I should be backthat evening. Only seven miles...

At half-past two I was at the office, and at twenty-nine minutes tothree my lady appeared in the hall. I went to her, cap in hand. Sheturned and walked to a little lounge-place out of sight of the office.I followed her there. For a moment she did not speak. Then:

"Oh, I feel such a beast!" she said passionately. "Such a beast!Don't take your cap off to me. Put it on. For heaven's sake, put iton! And sit down. Sprawl about. Light a cigarette. Shake me. Kissme, if you like. Anything to show you're my own class and not aservant." She stopped and passed a hand over her eyes. Then she spokehopelessly. "And all the time it's no good. You've got to take us outfor a drive, and I've got to treat you—you like a servant. And you'vegot to say 'Yes, madam,' and 'No, madam,' and have your tea alone,and—Oh, what on earth did I do it for?"

She was on the verge of tears. I put my hands on her shoulders andlooked into her eyes.

"My dear beautiful doll, don't take it all so seriously. It's only agame. We're both play-acting. You've just got to keep it up and orderme about in the most monstrously imperious manner this afternoon, andthen in the evening we're going to drive home together. And I'm goingto get some of my own back then, I don't mind telling you. I'll sprawland smoke cigarettes and shake you, and—What else was it you said? Ihaven't forgotten that you agreed to 'all found,' you know. You wait.And I think your eyes are absolutely wonderful. How did it go?

'I thought they were stars,
And I know they were shining.'"

She looked me full in the eyes now, and a grand smile swept into herface. Then she put her arms round my neck and kissed me. The nextmoment she was half-way up the broad stairs.

Ten minutes later I brought the car round to the door. Niece and uncleand aunt all sat together on the back seat. As I shut the door:

"We don't want to go too far, Norval, or too fast. Lady Brethe israther tired. I think about twenty miles out and twenty back will do.About two hours altogether."

"Yes, madam. Shall I go towards Savavic?"

"Yes, I think so."

We had done our twenty miles out, and I was looking for a placeto turn the car, when I caught sight of Poganec below us in the valley,by road some three or four miles away. Then suddenly for the firsttime a terrible thought flashed into my mind. We were on the very roadwhich Berry and the others must take, coming from Salzburg. Supposingwe met them....

Here the road broadened, so I slowed down and, in response to a nodfrom my mistress, proceeded to turn round. I accomplished themanoeuvre as in a dream, and ended by stopping the engine. Thisbrought me to my senses. As we started off again, I became cooler.After all, very likely we should not meet them. The chances wereagainst it. And if we did, I could accelerate and push by them beforethey knew where they were. Again—

Here we swung round a corner, and there, fifty paces away, by the sideof the road in the hot afternoon sun, stood our car, my car, Berry andCo.'s car. The bonnet was open, and Jonah's head and hands were insideit. Daphne sat still on the back seat, while Jill was sitting on thebank, a posy of wild flowers in her hand. Berry leaned easily againstthe side of the car, his hat over his eyes, watching Jonah at work.From his attitude he appeared to be offering idiotic advice. So I sawthem for less than a second, for the instant they heard us coming, allfour started and looked up. I was wondering whether I dared accelerateand dash by like a madman. I dare say the girl was thinking the same.But her uncle settled it.

"Hullo," he said. "Fellow-motorists in trouble? English, apparently,too. Wonder if we—" And the worthy aunt put the lid on.

"Why," she said, "if it isn't those nice children we met at the Europeat Salzburg, Dick."

There was nothing to be done now. I just slowed down. Very slowly wedrew abreast, and all the time, till we stopped, I leaned forward andgazed at the four in turn—open-mouthed they were—bending my browsinto the fiercest frown and laying my fingers on my lips. Then:

"How d'ye do?" said Lord Brethe.

Berry swallowed, said "Er—oh, how d'ye do?" and took off his hat.

The next moment he had himself in hand. Daphne got out of the car, andJonah and Jill came up. Greetings were exchanged between them and theBrethes, and my mistress was introduced. I sat as one in a trance.Then I heard the girl saying nervously: "I don't know whether mychauffeur can be of any assistance." I pulled myself together and gotout of the car.

There never was such a situation. The Brethes knew nothing and thoughtnothing. The girl, unaware that these were my own people, saw me beingused and treated as a chauffeur by four strangers, while she looked onand got the thanks; and the thought made her writhe. Berry and theothers found me about to call them "Sir" and "Madam" and to serve themby mending my own car in the capacity of chauffeur to somebody they hadnever seen. And I wanted to burst out into hysterical laughter, swear,kick Berry, and hide in the woods. Instead of which, I went up toJonah, who had gone back to the engine.

"What's the trouble, sir?"

Jonah put his head into the bonnet and exploded with silent laughter.I put my head in, too, and swore at him in a whisper. Then:

"One of the cylinders has been missing since Krainbach," he said. "Ithink that's the seat of the trouble. But I've only just—"

"I think it's the carburettor, sir," said I, with a finger on thefloat. "There's practically no petrol in it."

I tried the pressure pump, but it was no good. The petrol pipe wasstopped up properly.

"You'll have to have the pipe down, sir. It's the only way."

"How long will that take?" said Lord Brethe, who was standing on theother side of the car, talking to Berry.

"It's half-an-hour's job at least, my lord."

"Oh, well, you'd better do it. Hadn't he, Dolly? We aren't pressedfor time, are we, my dear?"

"Oh, no. That is—I mean, of course. Please do everything you can,Norval."

"Very good, madam."

I got some tools out of the tool-box and began to take the pipe down.

"Hadn't you better take your dust-coat off, man?" said Berry.

"No, thank you, sir."

Berry turned to Lord Brethe, who had come to watch the operation. "Allthis comes through letting my young brother-in-law play about with thecar," he explained airily.

"No, really?" said Lord Brethe.

"Yes," said Berry. "He's done more damage, the few times he's drivenit, than a skilled chauffeur would do in five years."

"Dear me," said the other. "Knows nothing of the mechanism, I suppose?"

"Doesn't know the difference between the carburettor and theer—exhaust."

Lord Brethe laughed. "Dear, dear. These young men," he said.

Here the spanner I was using slipped off a nut.

"Gently, my man, gently," said Berry pleasantly.

"Yes," said Lord Brethe, "be careful of the paint."

I almost choked.

"Won't you two come and talk to us?" the girl called from the otherside of the road.

"I always like watching a repair, dear," replied her uncle. "And Mr.Pleydell is an expert."

"I think I'd better be here just to supervise," said Berry. "Er—haveyou your cotton-waste handy, man?"

"It's on the step, sir," I said with an effort. "Do you want it?"

"No, no. But you should always keep it by you."

I wiped the sweat off my forehead.

"Will you smoke?" said Lord Brethe, producing a cigar-case.

"Ah, thanks," said Berry. With the tail of my eye I saw that it was aCorona Corona. By this time I had taken the pipe down. It was chokedwith a regular wad of dirt. I remembered bitterly that, when I leftthem at Strasburg, I had begged them never to fill up without a filter.

"So that was the obstruction?" said his lordship.

I straightened my back.

"Comes of not using a filter, my lord."

Berry's brows contracted. He touched the wad with his foot. "No," hesaid loftily. "This has clearly worked in from the engine. It is apiece of valve-packing."

I sighed. Heaven only knows what he thought he meant. But old Brethelapped it up. Heavily I began to replace the pipe. As I unscrewedthem, I put the nuts on the step. Now one was missing. It had rolledoff.

"Lost something?" said Berry.

"A nut, sir. I shall see it directly."

"Never put anything where it can roll off, man. When you are executinga repair, always lay your tools on the ground and mark the place. It'squicker in the long run. Found it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wipe it carefully before replacing it."

He turned to Lord Brethe. "You'll excuse me, but you can't be toocareful, can you?"

"No, indeed. Quite right, quite right," said the old fool. "We'renone of us too old to learn."

The repair was finished at last. I started up the engine, justto make sure she was all right, put away the tools, wiped my hands on apiece of cotton-waste, and resumed my seat in my lady's car without aword.

The girl, looking flushed and anxious, followed her aunt into the car.Lord Brethe climbed in after them. The others stood round.

"It's been awfully kind of you to lend us your chauffeur like this,"said Daphne. "I don't know—"

"Oh—er—that's all right," stammered the girl.

"Only too glad," said Lord Brethe. "Mr. Pleydell's been very good andgiven him several wrinkles well worth having."

"Don't mention it," said Berry, with a smirk.

"Here you are, my man." I took the crown he offered me in silence andraised my hat. A crown is worth ten pence. As I was letting in theclutch, I heard Jill's voice on my left.

"Thank you very much indeed for helping us so beautifully," she said,and laid her posy of wild flowers on the seat by my side.

"Thank you, madam."

As we moved off:

"What a queer child!" said Lady Brethe.

Two hours later the girl and I slipped once more out of Laipnik. Whenwe were clear of the town, I stopped for a moment, and she took her oldseat by my side. For a minute or two neither of us spoke. Then shereached up and took off my cap and pitched it behind into the car. Ilaughed.

"I wanted to do that a dozen times this afternoon," she said. "And I'dhave done it, too, if I'd had the courage of a field-mouse."

"You know what I've wanted to do a dozen times this afternoon, don'tyou?"

"And these odious people. Will you ever forgive me? If it's anyconsolation to you, I nearly died of shame."

"And I nearly punched Berry's head and spoiled it all."

"Berry's?"

I explained. When I had finished:

"It was nice of Jill to give you those flowers," she said. "Dear ofher. But I shall never forgive Berry."

"He's only human," said I. "And he really was awfully funny."

"I shall tell him what I think of him."

"We've all done that once a week for five years. My dear, he's quitehopeless. Besides, he gave me a whole crown."

"And uncle gave you five. I saw him. I nearly cried, it made me soangry."

"Six altogether," said I. "I bought you some carnations with them.They're in the hood."

"Sweet of you, Norval. Coals of fire?"

"No, dear. Only malmaisons. Isn't that beautiful?"

We had climbed until we were at the top of a pass. Over the mountainsthe sun was going down. The great valley was already in shadow, butthe light on the high woods was wonderful. Away on the top of a hill alittle white shrine stood up like a candlestick against the sky. Arosy flush lay on the distant snow mountains, and the heavensthemselves were filled with a great red glory. The same thoughtoccurred to both of us.

"Who wouldn't be a day?" said I. "It's worth living only twelve hoursto die a death like that."

We reached Savavic about half-past seven. I drove straight to thegarage. She watched me put the car away and waited while I slippedinto my brogues. Then:

"Now I must be off to Poganec," said I. "So endeth the first day'sservice."

"And the last."

I drew myself up.

"Am I dismissed, then?"

"Oh, well—"

"Of course, if you're not satisfied, madam—"

"But I am, only—"

"Then," said I, "I'll stop on. Good night, beautiful Doll."

"Dolly."

"Dolly, then."

I swept off my hat and turned to go.

"Don't you want to—er—shake me?" said Dolly.

I reached Poganec just as they were finishing dinner. As I entered theroom:

"Hullo," said Berry. "This your night out?"

"That'll do." said I. "You had your show this afternoon."

"My show? My humiliation," said my brother-in-law. "Think of it. Mywife's brother in service. How can I ever hold up this noble headagain? And this after all my years of striving to elevate. But there!Can the leopard change his spots, or the chauffeur his boots? By theway, how did you get into them? Rather a tight fit, wasn't it? Youdon't look very penitent. I suppose you know I'm bowed with grief?"

"I see you're gorged with food," said I. "Haven't you any dinner forme?"

"It's in a red handkerchief by the coach-house door," said Berry. "Nowyou can go. I shan't want you any more to-night. Don't forgetthe—ah—wrinkle I gave you about the cotton-waste."

"Fancy Boy earning some money!" said Daphne. "What wages d'you get?"

"Six-and-tenpence-farthing a week," said I, "and all found."

"That's a dangerous phrase," said Jonah. "Might mean anything."

"Exactly," said Berry. "It includes boots, we know. What else besidesboots?"

"Depends on the man," said I.

"It does," said Daphne. "And that's why you've got to give notice atonce."

"Notice?"

I felt Jill's hand pushing my hair back from my forehead. She wasstanding behind my chair.

"Yes," she said, "and come back to us. Fact is, Boy, we can't spareyou."

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