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The Brother of Daphne

by Dornford Yates · English · Gutenberg #748 · 430,931 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Brother of Daphne

Author: Dornford Yates


        
Release date: December 1, 1996 [eBook #748]
                Most recently updated: January 1, 2021

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/748


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BROTHER OF DAPHNE ***









THE BROTHER OF DAPHNE

by

Dornford Yates




Chapter I       Punch and Judy
Chapter II      Clothes and the man
Chapter III     When it was dark
Chapter IV      Adam and New Year's eve
Chapter V       The Judgement of Paris
Chapter VI      Which to adore
Chapter VII     Every picture tells a story
Chapter VIII    The Busy Beers
Chapter IX      A point of honour
Chapter X       Pride goeth before
Chapter XI      The love scene
Chapter XII     The order of the bath
Chapter XIII    A lucid interval
Chapter XIV     A private view
Chapter XV      All found




CHAPTER I

PUNCH AND JUDY

"I said you'd do something," said Daphne, leaning back easily in her
long 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.  My
word is--"

"Your bond?  Quite so.  But not mine.  The appointment I have in Town
that day--"

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

"The fete day."

"Ah!"

It was a bazaar fete thing.  Daphne and several others--euphemistically
styled workers--had conspired and agreed together to obtain money by
false pretences for and on behalf of a certain mission, to wit the
Banana.  I prefer to put it that way.  There is a certain smack about
the wording of an indictment.  Almost a relish.  The fact that two
years before I had been let in for a stall and had defrauded fellow men
and women of a considerable sum of money, but strengthened my
determination not to be entrapped again.  At the same time I realized
that I was up against it.

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

"Let's see," I said carelessly, "the fete's on--er--Wednesday, or
Thursday, 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 home
produce 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 had
retired to fetch the second instalment of accessories, I pointed the
finger 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 the
elephants."

"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 to
be in Town--"

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

"And this," I said, "this is my mother's daughter!  We have been nursed
together, scolded together, dandled in the same arms.  If she had not
been 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 to
Huntercombe, and playing golf all day, is not incompatible with taking
a stall on Thursday, I will sell children's underwear and egg cosies
with 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 of
subscribing to this charitable imposition.  Humble as would have been
my 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 an
engaging race.  Indeed, some of the manners and customs which they
affect are of a quite peculiar interest.  Let us look, brother, for a
moment, at their clothing.  At the first blush--I use the word
advisedly--it would seem that, like the fruit from which they take
their name--"

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

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

"I mean it," said Daphne.

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

"She means trick-cycling, stupid," said Berry.  "Riding backwards on
one 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 a
hunting-whip."

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

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

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

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

"Desperate?"

"Definite.  You have three days in which to get ready.  There's Jill
calling me.  We're going to run over to Barley to whip up the Ashton
crowd.  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.  "Give
me a cigarette and tell me if you think this dress'll do.  I'm going to
change my shoes."

"If," said I, producing my cigarette-case, "if you were half as nice as
you 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 to
bed on Wednesday night, I lay awake thinking deeply about what I was to
do on the morrow.  Daphne had proved inexorable.  My brain, usually so
fertile, had become barren, and for my three days' contemplation of the
subject I had absolutely nothing to show.  It was past midnight before
I fell into a fitful slumber, only to be aroused three hours and a half
later by the sudden burst of iniquity with which two or more cats saw
fit to shake the silence of the rose-garden.

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

When I slipped out of Knight's Bottom into the sunlit road to find
myself face to face with a Punch and Judy show, I was not far from
being momentarily disconcerted.  For a second it occurred to me that I
might be dreaming, but, though I listened carefully, I could hear no
cats, so I sat down on the bank by the side of the road and prepared to
contemplate the phenomenon.

When I say 'Punch and Judy show' I am wrong.  Although what I saw
suggested the proximity of a Punch and a Judy, to say nothing of the
likelihood of a show, I did not, as a matter of fact, descry any one of
the three.  The object that presented itself to my view was the tall,
rectangular booth, gaudy and wide-mouthed, with which, until a few
years ago, the streets of London were so familiar.  Were!  Dear old
Punch and Judy, how quickly you are becoming a thing of the past!  How
soon 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 the
darkness.  The old order changeth, yielding place to new, and in a
little space men shall be content to wonder at your ancient memory as
their grandfathers marvelled at that of the frolics of my Lord of
Misrule.  However.

There was the booth.  But that was all.  It stood quite alone at the
side of the white road.  I walked round it.  Nothing.  I glanced up and
down the road, but there was no one in sight.  I had been feeling
hungry, for it was seven o'clock; but this was better than breakfast,
and I returned to the bank.  The little red curtains fluttered, as a
passing breeze caught them, and I marked how bright and new they
looked.  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.  You
see, 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 about
to 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 said
anxiously.  "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 up
rather 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," I
quoted.

"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 silly
wager that she could give a Punch and  Judy show on her own in the
village of Lynn Hammer and the vicinity.  Of course, she had not meant
it. She had spoken quite idly, secure in the very impracticability of
the thing.  But certain evil-disposed persons--referred to mysteriously
as 'they'--had fastened greedily upon her words, and, waving aside her
objection that she had no paraphernalia, deliberately proceeded to
provide the same, that she might have no excuse.  The booth was run up,
the puppets procured.  The gentle hint that she wanted to withdraw had
been let fall at the exact moment with deadly effect, and--the wicked
work was done.  She had been motored over and here set down, complete
with booth, half an hour ago.  They were going to look back later, just
to see how she was getting on.  The ordeal was to be over and the wager
won by six o'clock, and she might have the assistance of a native in
her 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 saw
Peter 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 your
advent 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 will
unite 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 there
seems to be a sort of understanding that we should keep them in
missionaries.  So every now and then the 'worker' push here get up a
fete thing and take money off people.  Then they find one and send him
out.  Well, there's one of these stunts on this afternoon, and I've
been let in to do something.  That's why I look so pale and
interesting.  The last day or two I've been desperate about it.  But
now..."

"Now what?"

"If you'd let me help you to-day, we could take the show to the fete
and 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 the
village," 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 curiously
at 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're
absurdly--er--straight."

"It's all very well for you," she said; "you know everybody here.  But
it 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 do
with 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 a
Pierrot dress not one of them knows anything about, and I think I can
raise a mask.  If I--"

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

What I could see of her was dressed as a Pierrot.  Her hair was
concealed under a black silk cap, and the familiar white felt conical
hat sat jauntily over one ear.  A straight, white nose, and a delicate
chin, red lips parted and smiling a little, such a smile as goes always
with eyebrows just raised, very alluring--so much only I saw.  For the
rest, 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 come
down?"

"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 one
somewhere."

"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 a
moment later in the road:  and by her side a beautiful white
bull-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 and
drawn on a long dust-coat, which reached almost to her ankles.  She
held it close about her, as she walked.  It showed off her slim figure
to great advantage.  Below, the wide edges of white duck trousers just
appeared 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 lips
with 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 jug
from her lips she was smiling.

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

Thereafter we took counsel together.

As a result, it was decided that we should fold the booth--it shut up
like a screen--and convey it, puppets and all, a little way into the
wood. It was early yet, but some people would be passing along the
road, and we were not yet ready to combat the curiosity that the
appearance of a Punch and Judy show would be sure to arouse.  That
done, she would lie close in the wood with Toby, while I made off home
and changed.

As I started off, after settling her in the bracken, I heard the
village clock strike the half-hour.  Half-past seven.  I gained the
house unobserved.  No one was abroad except the servants, but I heard
Daphne 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 change
was soon completed, and I stood up a proper Folly, from the skull cap
upon my crown to the pumps upon my feet.  It took some time to find the
nose, but luck was with me, and at last I ran it to earth in an old
collar-box.  Truly an appalling article, it stuck straight out from my
face like a fat, fiery peg, but between that and the mask, my disguise
would defy detection.

Suddenly I had a brilliant idea.  Sitting down, I scribbled a note to
Daphne to the effect that, owing to a sleepless night, my nerve had
forsaken me, and that, unable to face the terror of the bazaar, I had
fled to Town, and should not be back till late.  I added that I should
be 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 one
pocket, the mask into another.  Then I went cautiously downstairs and
into 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 and
nearly as much off a new tongue.  Wrapping the slices in a napkin, I
thrust them into the pocket with the nose.  To add half a brown loaf to
the 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 French
windows and into the bushes as I heard William come down the passage. A
quarter 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 took
off 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, she
laughed so immoderately that her brown hair broke loose from under the
black 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 all
under the wretched cap this morning."

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

"Why, Punch?"  She drew aside the dust coat and revealed the wide
Pierrot 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 another
sovereign 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 entirely
disinterested, 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 yet
ungathered 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 vigorously
unplaited about two inches, which seemed to satisfy her.  For me, I
thought 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 for
breath:

"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 of
ribbon which she produced, kissed them, and sat down in the grass at
her feet.

We had oceans of time, for the fete did not begin till two.  But we
agreed 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 closed
again she had slipped something between them.  The next instant the
wood 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 is
noisy enough, but at night, what with dogs baying the moon, and the
nightjars 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's
hopeless to try and wake them without the welkin."

"The welkin?"

"Yes, you make him ring, you know.  They nearly always hear him.  And
if 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 the
little play."

"Presently by us to be enacted?"

"The plot," I said, "is as follows.  Punch has a row with Judy and
knocks her out.  (Laughter.)  Various well-intentioned and benignant
fools look in on Punch to pass the time of day, and get--very
properly--knocked out for their pains.  (Loud and prolonged laughter.)
This is followed by the side-splitting incident in which a handy clown
not only eludes the thirsty bludgeon, but surreptitiously steals the
inevitable sausages.  Exit clown.  Punch, already irritated at having
missed clown, misses sausages, and exit in high dudgeon.  Re-enter
Judy, followed by sausaged clown, who comforts her. (Oh, Judy!)
Re-enter Punch.  Justifiable tussle.  Punch sees sausages and begins to
find his length.  Clown sees stars and exit.  Punch knocks out Judy
with a left hook.  To him, gloating, enter constable.  It seems Judy's
knock-out more serious than usual.  Constable suggests that Punch shall
go quietly.  Punch does not see it, and retires to fetch persuader.
Constable protests and is persuaded.  (Laughter.) Enter ghost--not
clear whose ghost, but any ghost in a storm.  Punch unnerved.  Ghost
gibbers.  Punch more unnerved.  Ghost gibbers again.  Punch terrified.
Exit ghost and enter hangman, to whom Punch, unstrung by recent
encounter with apparition, falls an easy prey. Curtain.  You bow from
the mouth of the booth.  I adjust nose and collect money in diminutive
tin 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.  His
mistress stroked his soft head.

"In the background," said I.  "Or the offing (nautical).  I don't think
he'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 was
a dream.

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

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

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

It was unfortunate that, but a moment before, I should have grown
impatient of a large piece of crust and thrust it bodily into my mouth.
But although articulation at this interesting juncture was out of the
question, I laid an eloquent hand upon her arm and crowded as much
expression as I could into a swollen and distorted visage.  She glanced
at me and collapsed in silent infectious laughter.  And so it happened
that, while we two conspirators lay shaking in the bracken, her friends
turned their car wonderingly round and drove slowly back into the
village 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 of
the afternoon.

The time passed quickly enough--too quickly.


It was a few minutes past one when, having adjusted my mask and slid my
nose into position, I got the booth upon my shoulders and stepped out
into 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 for
this infernal booth.  However, let me once get a good grip on that soft
pigtail--"

"What--again?"

"Ah, that was in love, Judy."

The next second she had joined me on the white highway, the faithful
Toby 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 approaching
wagonette, she walked bravely beside me with the puppet-box under her
arm.  The occupants of the vehicle began to evince great curiosity as
we drew nearer, but their mare caught sight of my nose at the critical
moment 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're
bound to excite interest.  It's what we're for and what we want.  I'll
keep 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 the
fete was to be holden lay three-quarters of a mile further on.  The
ball was opened by two small errand boys, on whose hands, as is usual
with the breed, time was lying heavily.  They were engaged in deep
converse as we came up, and it was only when we were close upon them
that they became aware of our presence.  For a few seconds they stared
at us, apparently rooted to the spot, and as if they could not believe
their good fortune.  Then one broke into an explosive bellow of
delight, while the other ran off squeaking with excitement to find
other devils who should share the treasure-trove.  But, unlike his
infamous predecessor, he was not content with seven.  When he returned,
it was but as the van of a fast-swelling rabble.  His erstwhile
companion, who had been backing steadily in front of me ever since he
left, and had, after a hurried consideration of the respective merits
of the booth and the box under Judy's arm, rejected them both in favour
of my nose, kept his eyes fastened greedily upon that organ with so
desperate an air of concentration that I was quite relieved when he
tripped over a brick and fell on his back in the road.

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

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

When the crowd had begun to assume considerable proportions, Judy had
slipped her arm in mine, and an answering pressure to my encouraging
squeeze 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 it
with flying colours, though with a flaming cheek.

When we reached the triangular piece of grass that lay in front of the
village inn, I called a halt with such suddenness as to create great
confusion in the swarming ranks that followed in our wake.  But while
they sorted themselves, I slipped the booth off my shoulders, gave one
long, echoing call upon the reed, and, striking an attitude, made ready
to address the expectant villagers.

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

After dwelling lightly on the renown in which the village of Lynn
Hammer was held throughout the countryside, not to mention a gallant
reference to the wit, beauty, and mirth which was assembled about me, I
plunged into a facetious resume of recent local events. This, of
course, came to me easily enough, but the crowd only saw therein the
lucky ventures of a talkative stranger, and roared with merriment at
each happy allusion.  And so I came to the Bananas.  Yes, we were for
the fete.  There should we be the livelong afternoon, giving free
shows, and only afterwards soliciting contribution from such as could
afford to give in a good cause.  God save the King!

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

About that there was no difficulty, and when I had despatched the
original boy--who all this while had never wavered in his constancy to
my proboscis--for a small tin pail, I prepared to get my burden once
more upon my back.  But this was not to be.  Four good fellows insisted
on constituting themselves booth-bearers, and the burly drayman
gallantly 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' main
chance, made us quickly welcome.  On my explaining our intention to put
our efforts at their service, and any increment that might result into
their pockets, their expression of gratitude was quite touching.

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

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

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

I drew my arm familiarly through that of a reluctant curate, and walked
him smartly up and down, discussing volubly the merits of my nose in
tones which suggested that I had no roof to my mouth, Did a lady
protest that she had already contributed, I repeated "Oh, madam!"
reproachfully and crescendo till the hush-money was paid, while in
front of those who affected not to see my out-stretched hand, I stood
as if rooted to the spot.  I borrowed the vicar's wideawake, ostensibly
for a conjuring trick, and wore it assiduously for the rest of the
afternoon and, on his demurring to such use, I explained, in the voice
of 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 the
playlet, I lifted Judy to the rickety shelf, so that her head and
shoulders were framed in the mouth of the booth, it was the signal for
a burst of applause.

On one of these occasions:

"It's not fair that I should take every call," she said, looking down
at 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 and
get the money."

I adjusted my nose thoughtfully.  Daphne was, of course, in great
evidence.  Anxious to run no unnecessary risk, I avoided her when
possible, and when I did find myself in her proximity, I at once
indulged 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 we
should have him this time.  Fled to London before we were up this
morning, thank you.  From the amount of food he took with him, and the
way he took it, anyone would have thought he was an escaped convict.
Guilty conscience, I suppose.  One hears a good deal about record
flights nowadays, but I'd back my miserable brother against any
aviator.  My husband's promised to look in about five, if he's back
from 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 thank
you--"

"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 up
with 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 my
vagaries again, when I saw Berry.  Unanxious to tempt Providence, I
retired precipitately to the shelter of the booth.  My companion was
sitting disconsolately upon the box on which she stood to work her
puppets.

"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 the
soft little palm.

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

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

"A gentle and confiding nature, characterized by a penchant for
escapade, 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 six
times as long as ordinary paint--I mean life--of extraordinary
durability.  Now for the heart-line.  The expert will here descry a
curious mixture of--"

Further investigation she cut short by so determined an attempt at
withdrawal 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 our
several ways once more.  And if we don't meet, as the months and years
go by, when other cleverer, better men walk by your side, and glorious
days crowd thick about you, throw a spare thought to the old time when
you were a strolling player, and the poor fool you gave the honour of
your 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 been
very good to me."

She was on her feet by now and busily arranging the puppets.  I
groaned.  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 its
wonted bitterness.  Punch appeared halfhearted, and Judy was simply
walking 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 flung
herself 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'll
have a reconciliation to finish with."

And so to Punch, sobered, shaking, cowering in the corner, with his
little plaster hands before his face, came his poor wife.  (Oh, but she
did it well!) Gently, timidly, bravely, she laid a trembling hand upon
his shoulder, and coaxed his hands from before his frightened eyes,
then, backing, stood with outstretched, appealing little arms--a
gesture at once so loving and pathetic that Punch was fain to thrust
his 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 he
turned again, to find two little arms stealing about his neck, and a
poor, bare, bruised head upon his chest, he flung his arms about her
with a toot of joy, and clasped her in the accepted fashion.  Oh, very
charming.

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 with
my freed right hand I slipped her mask over her forehead, smiled into
her 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 fell
heavily over, mouth uppermost, and we within it.  It was the final of
the animal race that was responsible for our overthrow.  The black pig,
blind with jealous rage and mortification at being beaten on the tape
by a cochin china, had borne violently down upon the booth and upset
it, with wicked grunts of satisfaction.

"Hurt, dear?" said I.

"No."

As she slipped her mask into place, Berry put his head in at the mouth
of the booth.  Maskless, noseless, I looked at him.  Slowly his
astonished 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 was
necessary.

"All right," he said at last.  "There.  I've said it again now.  You're
quite sure you do know what I mean?  Because, if you've the least
hesitation--"

"Will you be quiet?" said Daphne.

"Alright."

It was a beautiful August morning.  After a roaring season in town, we
had, all five--Berry, Daphne, Jonah, Jill, and myself--girded our jaded
loins, packed, crawled into the car, and rolled down to Cornwall, there
to build up the wasted tissues, go to bed at ten, and forget that there
were such things as theatres and ballrooms.

We took a couple of days coming down by road, and our run was not
without incident.

I wish cyclists would not hang on behind.

In Kingston a monger's boy, with some fish that were patently feeling
the 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 involves
risk of injury to passengers, and is prohibited.  Didn't you know that?"

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

"Friend," said I, "I perceive you are a humorist.  Lo, here in this car
are already three humorists.  Under these unfortunate circumstances, I
have 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 I
believe he will always think we did it on purpose.

It had been arranged that we should spend the night at Salisbury and
push on to Cornwall on the following day.  We made the Cathedral city
soon after five and slipped out to see Stonehenge.  There were a few
other 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 rest
of us alighted and walked hurriedly away in the opposite direction.
Clearly my brother-in-law was in a certain mood and no fit companion
for the sensitive.  Memories of the unutterable torment, to which on
like occasions we had been mercilessly subjected, by reason of Berry's
most shameless behaviour among strangers, rose up before us.  The fact
that 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 had
become the centre of a little knot of excursionists, who were listening
to him eagerly.  As we appeared:

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

"Wretched fool!" said Daphne under her breath, turning hurriedly in the
direction 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 have
reminded her of the untoward incident.  It was the only string bag they
had, 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 go
wrong--criminally, I mean."

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

"Yes," Berry went on, "in less than a month he was up at the Old
Bailey, under the Merchandise Marks Act, for selling Gruyere cheese
with too big holes in it.  Five years his sentence was.  Let's see, he
ought 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 approached
Berry 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 you
who have motor-cars will understand me when I refer to the great
difficulty of securing a really trustworthy chauffeur.  Now, this man
is honest and a most careful driver, but when he is, so to speak, off
duty, he is so unfortunate as to suffer from delusions, usually
connected with crime and the administration of the criminal law.  While
we were having lunch at Whitchurch only this afternoon, he went off to
the police-station and tried to give himself up for the Hounslow
murder, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir," faltered Berry.

"And all the time," I went on, "I'm not at all satisfied myself that he
did 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 flannel
blazer burst into tears.

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

"Half a shake, sir," said Berry, feeling in his pockets.  "You know
that knife--"

The company began nervously to disperse.  Some exhorted one another to
observe some feature of the cromlechs which was only visible from some
point of vantage on the side other to that on which we stood.  Others
agreed that they had no idea that it was so late, and the fat tradesman
gave a forced shiver and announced that he must have left his coat
behind "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 when
apparently deserted, than with one or two tourists, however genial and
guileless, in a high holiday humour in the foreground.  At the same
time, as we walked back to the car, I felt that I owed it to myself to
lodge a grave protest against the indecent and involving methods my
brother-in-law had seen fit to employ.

"After all," I concluded, "the fellow's your brother, and even if his
panama wasn't a real one, that's no reason why he should be made to do
the hundred in about twelve seconds.  He wasn't in strict training
either.  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.  That
kid's blazer absolutely killed the grass for miles around.  Didn't you
see how brown it had gone?  That," he added coolly, "is the worst of
having an artistic eye.  One must pay for these things."

After spending the night at Salisbury, we pushed on to the Cornish
coast.  It was not until we were within three miles of our village that
we 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 cliffs
rise there, tall, dark, majestic-grave, too, especially grave.  When
the sky is grey, they frown always, and even the warm rays of the
setting sun but serve to light their grand solemnity.  Very different
is 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 shall
see it black with rage.  In the morning, maybe, it will sleep placidly
enough in the sunshine, but at eventide the wind has ruffled its
temper, so that it mutters and heaves with anger, breathing forth
threatenings.  Yet the next dawn finds it alive with mischievous
merriment and splitting its sides with laughter, to think how it has
duped you the night before.  The great grave cliffs and the shifting
sea, and, beyond, woodland and pastures and deep meadows, where the
cows low in the evenings, while the elms tower above them, their leaves
unshaken 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 was
best 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 will
deal 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 took
the rooms.  I drove the car nearly the whole way down.  I got you all
here.  I sent the luggage on in advance."

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

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

"You know," I said, "there are times when I tremble for you.  Only
yesterday, 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 next
performance will be at four o'clock this afternoon, underneath the
promenade pier."

I relapsed into comfortable silence and sank back into the bracken.  My
sister 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 were
positively rude about the bathing-cove I selected.

"Bathe there?" sneered Berry, as we looked down upon it, all smiling in
the 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 let
me 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 slip
and 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 a
splint--"

"The cove," I said, "is ideal.  Its sand is a field of lilies, its sea
perfumed, 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!  For
myself, if I start at once, I shall be able to get back with the
coastguard's ambulance before you've been lying there more than an hour
or two, and I can wire for your relatives at the same time."

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

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

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

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

"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?  How
did you find me out?"

"Rumour travels apace, sir."

"And I had been congratulating myself on eluding the Press since
breakfast.  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, I
know.  Who are your solicitors?  And may I take it that they will
accept service?"  (Here I rolled over and leaned on my elbow.)  "You do
look fit.  Just move your heel out of that pool--there's an anemone
going 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 of
plain dark blue, and fashioned just like my own.  Her dark hair was
parted in the middle and divided at the back into two long, thick
plaits 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.  Her
figure was slim and graceful, and her arms and hands and feet were very
shapely.  One brown knee was crossed over the other, and her left hand
held 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 I
might have spent all day talking with my silly crowd and never have
known of your existence.  Don't be afraid.  I merely mean that I am
enjoying your society, and I'm glad I came round the corner.  I'm not
in 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 could
if you liked."

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

"Oh, if you knew how sick I am of the girl about town, the girl of
to-day, who won't be natural herself, and won't let you be natural
either, who is always bored, and who has no use for anyone who isn't
forever making mock love to her, or--Why on earth can't a man tell a
woman he likes her company, and mean it, without the woman thinking he
wants 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 company
without 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 back
together, and she took her seat on the slab, while I stretched myself
on 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 honour
to speak to the lady of the manor."

"Well, if you didn't really know who I was----  But you mustn't be
dull."

I drew her attention to a sailing ship in the distance.  "Now, that," I
said, "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 means
unless 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 years
ago come Michaelmas.  We were just standing by in the offing, when she
sterruck with a grinding crash.  There was a matter of seventy souls
aboard, and I shall never forget the look on the captain's face as the
ship's cat stole his place in the stern-sheets of the jolly-boat.  I
was thrown up on a desert island, I was.  You ought to have seen me
milking 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 not
on your precious island now."

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

"A woman to keep him company without thinking he wanted to kiss her, or
marry 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 the
floating garment, made another dart at something else, and was knocked
down by a roller.  I had her on her feet in a moment, but she dashed
the 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 she
was 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 myself
talking 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 had
raced, I could see nothing else.  I returned temporarily exhausted to
the cove.  She waded out to meet me.

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

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

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

I tried to comfort her.  I patted her shoulder and took her hand in
mine.

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

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

"What is it?" wailed the Mermaid.

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

Stammering incoherent sentences, I staggered into the water and swam
for the hat.  When I had caught it, I went on to get the shirt.  I
would have gone on round the headland to my cove, only the shirt was
not my shirt.  It was Berry's!  Yes, it was--had his name on it and
all.  And not ten yards away floated Daphne's straw hat.  For the next
two minutes I was in imminent danger of drowning.  At last I began to
swim feebly, blindly back.  When I reached the shore, I fell on my
knees in the surf and laughed till the eighth wave knocked me head over
heels and the ninth broke into my open jaws and choked me.  The next
moment the girl caught me by the arm, and I stumbled out and lay down
on the dry sand with the shirt clasped to my breast.  My hat had gone
again ages ago.  Then I looked at the girl kneeling anxiously by my
side, and began to laugh again.  She sat back on her heels, with one
hand to her lips and a scared expression on her face.

"He's mad," she said, half to herself, "mad!  Must have been stung by a
jelly-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's
trousers and Jill's chemisette, which means or mean--whichever you
like--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't
know that that exactly applies--"

"And I can't walk home like this, even with that on."  She indicated
the 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, I
mean, and--"

"I could slip all right," said I.  "The short grass on the top of the
cliffs would help me there.  But, my dear girl, how on earth can I do
anything 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, of
course.  They'd never notice me there.  And I could just drop in at the
office for the key of my room, and see if there were any letters on the
way up, and----  My dear girl, how can I?  I admit I've a good deal of
nerve, 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 noise
which invariably accompanies the descent of anybody rash enough to
enter a Cornish cove with undue haste in leather-soled shoes.  The
Mermaid darted behind a rock, and I advanced gratefully up the
foreshore to the fringe of stones.  The noise grew louder, and the
slips more frequent, until there was one long one, and then a thud.  Up
rose a fat oath.  After a moment or two, there limped into sight--oh,
blessed spectacle!--one of the hotel porters, conventionally hatless
and 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 on
top, 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 mermaid
was in the same plight.  I gave him implicit instructions and, with her
assistance, 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 a
chambermaid for my companion.

"Be as quick as you can," I said, as he turned to go.  "You're sure
you'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, he
would have beheld the singular and doubtless pleasing spectacle of the
Mermaid and myself doing the real Argentine tango along the stretch of
yellow 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, I
assure 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 was
bound up with a strip of chemise, and the bandage was tied with the
pale-pink ribbon that had lately lain upon the Mermaid's shoulder.

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

The girl started to dress behind a rock, and I told the fellow to wait
at the foot of the path.  "I have reason," I said, "reason to believe
that there are others even now in the same or self-same plight as that
in which you found us.  Therefore remain within call.  Don't
investigate 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 note
from me for Daphne's maid, and the promise of half a sovereign, while
the Mermaid and I stood at the top of the path which led down to the
cove where the rest of my party were chafing in exasperated
idleness--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 he
descried us, and while we were yet a great way off, he had retired
precipitately, and was now busy rejoining the others with Agag's walk
and a profusion of embryo profanity.  He explained afterwards that if
he had been wearing his own bathing-dress, instead of a green and red
striped one--his own was being mended--he should have remained, but
that he did not like to be seen wearing the colours of the Redruth
Rangers before he had been elected.

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

I was just saying in a clear voice that, perhaps, it was rather soon
after lunch to bathe again, when we came upon them the other side of a
large rock.  One and all they sprawled easily on the sand in the hot
sunshine, 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 be
caught bending.  Berry especially.  That artist was busily fashioning a
miniature rampart of sand.  He looked up at my greeting, and rose to
his 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 you
back to tea."

There was a polite murmur of appreciation.

"I must say," I went on, "it is glorious.  I almost wish I'd given up
my 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 of
Berry 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, talking
vivaciously.  Jonah pretended to be asleep.  After a furtive glance at
the top of the cliff, Berry resumed his building operations with awful
deliberation.

After a while:

"Well, if you aren't going to bathe any more, aren't you going to
dress?" 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 of
Belial.'  You'll just be in time.  But leave us here in peace.  I have
almost evolved a post-futurist picture which will revolutionize the
artistic 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 they
would have rejected for lunch if they had.  To get the true effect, no
one 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 her
to 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 all
well."

I turned to the Mermaid.  She was chattering away to Jill, with her
back towards me.  Over her shoulder, Jill's grey eyes regarded me
wistfully.  I made a rapid calculation.  Yes, the porter ought to have
arrived 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.  They
had forgotten about the mussels.  Daphne's brows were knitted, and
Jonah was looking ruefully at the sun.  It was getting on for half-past
three.  One could guess that much.

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

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

"Presently," said my big sister.  "You two go on and order a big tea at
the 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 and
brushed 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 the
instructions I had given her, strolled naturally enough towards the
path up the cliff.  The other four were looking at me straitly--I could
feel 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 is
everything.

"If you really mean that," I said slowly,  "I'll send your other
clothes 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 Jonah
gained on me while the sand lasted, but the loose stones at the foot of
the path were my salvation.

As I passed the porter, I told him to say that a square meal would be
awaiting them at the farm.  We ordered it generously enough, but,
despite our hunger, the Mermaid and I decided to have our own tea at
the hotel.  Thither we set out to walk through the fields.  Suddenly
she 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 to
leave your side again.  Yes, it is.  I might have known better than to
say 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 get
over here and go across the meadow, and there's the wood beyond the
gate 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 fine
disregard for the highest traditions of British pugilism, strike the
high road below the belt of firs, a good six miles from the roof-tree
we should never have left.  God forgive you."

"Am I," said Berry, "am I to understand in cold blood that, reckoning
three miles to the league, some four leagues lie directly between me
and 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 we
staying at a retired farmhouse, fleeting the time carelessly, simply,
healthily.  Sickened by forty-eight hours of continuous rain, we  had
fastened greedily upon the chance which a glorious October day at
length offered, and had set out, complete  with sandwiches, for one of
the longer walks.  Daphne constituted herself guide.  We never asked
her to.  But as such we just accepted her.  We were quite passive in
the matter.  Going, she had guided us with a careless confidence which
shamed suspicion.  But coming back, she had early  displayed
unmistakable signs of hesitation and anxiety.  Thereafter she had
plunged desperately, with the result  that at three o'clock we found
ourselves reduced to a  swine-herd who had been drinking.  The latter
detailed to us four several routes, and assured us that it was utterly
impossible 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 I
have every reason to suppose  was blasted) in a strange county, and not
a 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 left
leg out of some mire with a noise that made me shudder.  Jill slid a
warm 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 have
been a cart-track.

Berry leaned against a wall of stones.  "What a picture," he said
ecstatically.  "The setting sun, the little band, the matron and the
maid, 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 his
emotion.  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 natural
camping-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 will
scale yon beetling mount if peradventure I may perceive one that will
point 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 of
hand, 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 sharply
on our right, its side dotted with furze-bushes, and its crest hidden
by 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, have
you?"

"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 I
turned up the bank again.

I regret to say that Berry and Jonah thought it decent  to attempt to
stone my retreating figure.  Ten minutes' walking brought me to a
clearing 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 river
flowing to the village on whose skirts stood the house that was our
bourne.  When I returned to the camp to find them gone I was rather
bored.

The note that they had left made it worse:

"Regret compelled retire owing to serious outflanking movement on part
of the Blues.  Sorry, but that's the worst of being picket.  The
natural intuition which characterizes all BSS will enable you to
discern 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 to
shouting, but only succeeded in arousing the curiosity of three cows
and a well-nourished  ram.  The latter was so well nourished that when
he had stamped for the second time, I thought it prudent to get over
the wall.  I did so with about four seconds to spare.  Nothing daunted,
the winning animal took a short run and butted the wall with surprising
vigour.  When three large stones had fallen for seven runs, I offered
up a short prayer that Berry & Co. might return to look for me, and
hastened to put two more walls between us.  I suppose it was the river
that 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 life
as opposed to vegetable--since the ram.  Up hill, down dale, along
roads, along imitation roads, along future roads, along past roads,
across moors I had tramped doggedly, blindly, and rather angrily.  If I
had had one match--only one match--it would have been  different.

Yes, it was a dog-cart.  And through the gloom I could distinctly see
the 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 four
hours."

"Sorry.  Swear for me, will you?"

"Certainly, madam.  What sort of an oath would you like? We have a very
large assortment in stock--fresh lot in only this afternoon.  Let me
see.  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 been
doing rather a lot in the way of blue oaths  lately.  No?  Damn.  How
do you like that, madam?"

"That'll do."

"Much obliged to you, madam.  Sign, please.  Nothing  else I can show
you?  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 this
afternoon, 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 come
along."

"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 the
imitation roads, and when we were not scaling an ascent that positively
beetled, we were going down a descent which I was glad it was too dark
to see.  After a minute or two, I took the near wheel eighteen inches
up the bank.

"Sorry," said the girl, as she disengaged herself from my neck and arms
and 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 reluctant
goats along the Hastings strand?  Pardon me, those last six words
comprise an iambic line--a fact which is itself the best evidence of my
agitation.  It is a little winning way I have.  Most criminals when
charged make no reply.  When I am arrested, I shall protest in
anapaests.  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 Street
specialist said to me, as I pushed the two pounds two shillings beneath
the current number of The Lancet, was, 'Now, mind, no rugs.  Eat and
drink what you like.  Smoke in moderation, and get up as late as you
please.  But no rugs.'"

As the wrist felt unconvinced, I slipped it through my arm, where it
lay 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 like
myself aren't as common as blackberries.  And so few tramps one meets
nowadays 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; but
you 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 the
cold 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 of
ear-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 two
brown 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 think
you have.  That's all.  Sorry if I'm  wrong, but when you're in the
dark--"

"Yes, but what sort of nose?"

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

"If you do that again," she said severely, "I'll leave you in the
road--"

"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 the
ear-rings were pearl ear-rings.

There was a pause.  The cold was making us silent.  My fingers were
getting 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 say
something."

"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 seeming
inquisitiveness, 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 or
motor-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 a
Unionist gain last time."

"Are you a Unionist?"

"My dear, you see in me--at least you would see in me, if it were not
so dark--a high Tory."

"I thought you were a boy-scout."

"The two are not incompatible.  Did you see that thing in Ally Sloper
last 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 was
becoming good at getting up and down,  but rather tired.  As I resumed
my seat for the sixth time, I sighed.  For the sixth time she returned
me 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't
because 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," I
observed 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 the
seventh--"

"Out you get, boy-scout."

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

"Fret not for thy sword, Sir Scout." she replied, "neither flatter
thyself that Circe wastes her spells on all who come her way.  Those
only 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 together
and 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 by
rapping 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 three
more 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 for
giving 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 from
here 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 another
rug, 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 moved
on to the seat I had vacated and I put the rug carefully round her
feet.  Suddenly I remembered.

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

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

While I was speaking, my fingers had mechanically strayed to the ticket
pocket 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'll
have 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 it
cautiously, sheltering it with my hands.  Just as I was about to raise
my 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--like
a 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, I
walked slowly up to the farm.  I was quite sure about the ear-rings
this time.  At least, about the one in her left ear.

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

All things considered, I thought that was rather good.

"I don't think I've been into Cornwall," I said, "but I've done Devon
pretty 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 added
carelessly.

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 beastly
ram 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 that
Berry had entered the room, until he clapped me on the shoulder.

"It was a neat revenge," said that gentleman; "very neat, my boy.  But
you 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 remembered
my umbrella and got back.  Then I got out again.  "Porter," I said.

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

I fought my way the length of the platform to the vicinity of the
luggage van.  Four porters were standing looking moodily at the luggage
already 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 of
distinction 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 have
recognized amid the hubbub of the heavenly choir.  "Staying at
Watereaton?"

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 little
black felt hat with a ghost of a brim leaned exquisitely over one of
the blue eyes.  Her hands were plunged into deep pockets, but a pair of
most 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 peered
out 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 my
warmest Yuletide greetings and heartiest good wishes for a bright New
Year.  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 were
left 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 the
wind, and I will offer you my second wind for another blow. I did not
forget everything when I married you.  But to the weather.  This
berlizzard--German--has its disadvantages.  A little more, and we
shan'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 tell
you, really.  However."

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

"Good shot," said I. "That entitles you to a vase.  If you like, you
can have another two shots instead." "I'll take the vase," said my
sister.  "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 to
death for this impious display.  In consideration of your age, you
might 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 the
murder 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 in
the Calcutta Sweep trying to believe that it wouldn't have won, even if
it hadn't been knocked down when it was leading by nineteen lengths--"

"Very brilliant," said Daphne, "but the point is, what are we going to
do 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 come
yet."

"Couldn't we get hold of Wenceslas?" said I.  "He's getting five
million a week at the Palliseum.  Makes footprints there twice daily in
real snow.  The audience are invited to come and tread in them.  They
do, too, like anything.  Happily, Wenceslas is famed for the size of
his 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 willy
or 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, and
give me my dressing-gown."

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

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

We were all housed together in an old, old country inn, the inn of
Fallow, 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 the
other less than three hundred years ago, and, summer and winter alike,
it was a spot of great beauty comparatively little known, too, and far
enough from London to escape most tourists.  The inn itself had
sheltered Cromwell, and before his time better men than he had warmed
themselves at the great hearth round which we sat.  For all that, he
had 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.  In
fact, the house was in its way unique.  A discreet decorator, too, had
made it comfortable.  Save in the Cromwell room, electric light was
everywhere.  And in the morning chambermaids led you by crooked
passages over uneven doors to white bathrooms.  It was all right.

Hither we had come to spend Christmas and the New Year.  By day we
walked for miles over the Cotswolds, or took the car and looked up
friends who were keeping Christmas in the country, not too many miles
away.  The Dales of Stoy had been kind, and before the frost came I had
had two days' hunting with the Heythrop.  And to-morrow was New Year's
Eve.  Four miles the other side of the old market town of Steeple
Abbas, and twenty-one miles from Pallow, stood Bill Manor, where the
Hathaways lived.  This good man and his wife Milly were among our
greatest friends, and they had wanted us to spend Christmas with them.
Though we had not done so, we had motored over several times and they
had lunched with us at Fallow only the day before.  And for New Year's
Eve 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 us
than for anyone else.  Anyway, Jim and Milly said so.  The idea was
that we should come over in the car in time for dinner with the
house-party, the ball would begin about ten, and when it was over, we
should return to Fallow in the ordinary way.  Nobody had anticipated
such heavy weather.

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

"Very well, ghouls," said Berry, "have your most wicked way.  Doubtless
the good monks of the Hospice will find my corpse.  I wish the
drinking-trough, which will be erected to my memory, to stand half-way
up 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 adjourn
the debate till the next morning, in case it stopped snowing during the
night.  As it was nearly one, the idea seemed a good one, and we went
to bed.


The morning was bright and cloudless.  The cold was intense, but the
sun glorious, while the clear blue sky looked as if it had never heard
of snow.  In a word, the weather was now magnificent, and, but for the
real evidence Upon the country-side, no one would ever have believed
such a cheery, good-natured fellow guilty of a raging blizzard.  But
the 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 car
coming back at four o'clock in the morning.  No, thanks, I'Il have
marmalade."

"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 knew
the 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 and
our nice big grate and our own beds."

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


At twenty minutes past three the next morning I drove out of the
courtyard of 'The Three Bulls', Steeple Abbas.  Alone, too, for it had
begun 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 for
such an ugly run.  As a matter of fact, I had started once with her in
the car, but before we had got clear of the town, I had turned about
and driven her back to the inn.  The people had evidently half expected
her back, for, as we stopped at the door, it was flung open and the
landlord stood ready to welcome her in.  The next moment I was once
more on my way.  In spite of the weather, the car went well, and I had
soon covered more than half the distance.  I was just about to emerge
from a side-road on to the main highway, when a dark mass right on the
opposite corner against the hedgerow attracted my attention.  The next
second my head-lights showed what it was, and I slowed down.  A great
limousine, if you please, standing at an angle of twenty degrees, its
near front wheel obviously well up the bank, and the whole car sunk in
a 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 luggage
rail.

I stopped, took out one of my side oil lamps, and, getting out of the
car, advanced to the edge of the drift, holding the light above my
head.  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 or
other.  Isn't that strange?  And now, who, what, where, why, and how
are 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 know
anything, he won't be back again for ages.  Seriously, how did what
happen?"

"Chauffeur took the turn rather late, and next moment we were up the
bank 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 drift
till we were in it."

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

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

"Considering the hour and the climatic conditions, I don't suppose the
farmers 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 against
something 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 turn
on 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 me
yours as we go along."

"Go along?"

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

"Quick going."

"Yes, I came by the boat train, with Black Bess in a horse-box.  And
now I'm going to abduct you, Eve.  Your soul's not your own when you're
up against High Toby.  I have a pistol in my holster, a cloak on my
back, 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 it
was terribly cold.  While we had been talking, she had been leaning
against the side of the tilted car, with her face close to the inch and
a half of open window.  Except for an occasional flash, which had
showed where her eyes were, I had not seen her at all.  Expectantly I
raised the lamp and peered into the limousine.  Out of a huge fur rug a
solitary 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 intermittent
light, isn't it?  Two winks and a blink every ten seconds."

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

"I beg your pardon," said I.  A little hand appeared and pulled the rug
away from a small white nose and a mouth whose lips were paler than
they 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 said
you 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 your
father--but Convention's going by the board to-night.  I'm staying at
an 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 have
Jill's room.  Of course, there'll be a fire there, too, and everything
ready.  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.  Get
up 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, my
dear 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'Il
help 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.  If
possible, bring the car to 'The Three Bulls,' Steeple Abbas, by noon
tomorrow.  Will you sign it?"

I put the pencil into her hand and held the lamp for her to see.  She
wrote 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 she
was 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 for
that.  As it is--"

I helped her to her feet and set the lamp on the front seat.  Then I
bade 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 my
car.  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 left
my niblick in London.  Come along.  Don't be frightened if I slip.  I
shan'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 were
making for Fallow at nearer thirty than twenty miles an hour.


As we ran into the village, I heard the church clock chime the
half-hour.  Half-past four.  We had come well.  A moment later I had
stopped at the old inn's door.  Except for a flickering light, visible
between 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 Yale
lock in the studded door!  Never mind.  This door is only a
reproduction.  The original probably shuts off some pantry from some
servants' hall in New York City.  However.  When I had switched on a
course of lights, I went back to the car and opened the door.  Have I
said that it was a cabriolet?

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

"I didn't wait up, sir," he explained, "but, hearing the car, I just
come 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 my
arms.  A corner of the rug had fallen over her face.  Thomas, naturally
enough, thought it was Jill.

"Er--yes," said I.  "She's tired, you know.  And you'd better not let
her see you.  She'll be awfully angry to think you got up for us.  You
know 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," he
said.  I placed my burden gently on the sofa, away from the light of
the fire.

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

"Not a farthing dip, Thomas.  Miss Mansel may wake any moment.  You can
come 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 to
go out of doors."

"Oh, yes, thank you, sir."

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

"You may take Miss Mansel's dressing-case to her room and see to her
fire, 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 Miss
Mansel in the morning, sir.  Susan's had to go away sudden.  I think
her 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 moved
from 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 sat
down but now she had slipped out of it, and it lay all tumbled about
her on the rug.  She was in evening dress, and might have returned, as
I had, from a ball.  All blue, it was, blue of a wonderful
shade--periwinkle, I think they call it, Her stockings were
flesh-coloured and her shoes of gold:  these she had taken off, the
better to warm her little shining feet.  White arms propped her towards
the 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 from
a silk knee.  Her dark hair had worked loose under the weight of the
rug, 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 either
side of a straight nose.  The lips were red now, and her throat soft
and white as her shoulders.  I  gazed down at her.

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

"No jewels?" said I.  "You have a wealth of hair,  and what about the
pearls 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 a
second 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 like
me a bit, only I'm not myself to-night.  I'm just--just Eve.  See?  New
Year's Eve."

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

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

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

And I related what had occurred.  When I had finished, she threw back
her 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 good
as 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 so
tired."

I drew my pumps out of the great pockets, and threw the coat off me and
across the back of a chair.  Then I kicked off my great high rubber
boots, 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 shoes
and stooped to fit them on to their feet.

"You are looking after me nicely, Adam," she said, laying a hand on my
shoulder 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 for
supper."  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's
bad 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 red
fire into flames.

"But where will you sit, Adam?"

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

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

"A child," said I, sitting down by her side.  "My dear, do you realize
that 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 youth
dies 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 sitting
now?"

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

"They can't see, though."

"No.  Born blind.  That's why they hear so well.  And they never
forget.  These four"--with a sweep of my cigarette--"have long memories
of things, some sweet, some stern, some full of tears, and some again
so mirthful that they split their panelled sides with merriment
whenever they call them to mind."

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

"Smile? Yes.  Wise, whimsical, fatherly smiles, especially wise.  They
think 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 undeceive
them.  It'd break the poor old fellows' hearts.  That one's looking
rather 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.  Now
you must make up for it.  Come along." I altered my tone.  "Chaste and
beautiful one, dost thou realize that at this rate we shall reach
Gretna next Tuesday week?"

"So soon, Jack?"--languishingly.

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

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

"When I last saw thine aged sire, pipkin, three postboys were engaged
in sawing him out of a window, through which he should never have
attempted to climb.  The angle of his chaise suggested that one of the
hind wheels was, to put it mildly, somewhat out of the true.  The fact
that, before we started, I myself withdrew its linchpin goes to support
this theory."

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

"Believe me, fair but haughty, the old fool has taken no hurt.  Distant
as we were, I could hear his oaths of encouragement, while the
post-boys sawed as they had never sawed before. From the way they were
doing 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.  All
the 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 the
walls 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 give
her 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 fellow
found in the snow, and how he took her to his home for shelter, and set
her on her way in the morning, and then spent his poor life trying to
find 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 story
than 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 says
for a moment.  Remember he's speaking for me."

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

"Never," said I.

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

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

"I'll see you to your room," said I, lighting one of the candles.  Then
I 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 of
the hearth, the leaping flames lighting her tumbled hair.  One foot was
on the kerb, and her left hand hitching her dress in the front a
little, as women do.  The other she held, palm downwards to the blaze,
warming it.  I marked the red glow between its slight fingers, making
them 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 little
strategy, my companion's incognito was preserved, and by half-past
eleven we had breakfasted and were once more in the car.  It was
another brilliant day, and at five minutes past twelve we ran into
Steeple Abbas.  Eve was sitting in front by my side this time.  As we
turned 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, he
looked away from the little writing-block and stared up at the
signboard of the inn.  When he heard the car approaching, he made for
the pavement, turning a puzzled face in our direction.  At that moment
I 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 the
limousine, which stood on our left between us and the hotel.  Then I
stopped, stood up, leaned across my companion and opened the big car's
door.

"Good-bye, dear," I said.

The next moment she had changed cars.  To thrust her rug and
dressing-case after her was the work of a second.  For a moment I held
her 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 running
down 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 too
much?  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."  I
followed Jill up the steps.  In the doorway I turned and took off my
hat.  The chauffeur was starting up the limousine.  And Eve was leaning
forward, looking out of the open window.  As I smiled, she kissed her
hand to me.

Ten minutes later we left 'The Three Bulls.'  I had thrown my gauntlets
on to the front seat before I entered the inn.  As I drew on the right
one, 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 had
written for Falcon the night before.  The signature was Evelyn Fairie,
and underneath had been added, "Castle Charing, Somerset.  With my
love."

I slipped it into my pocket and started the car.

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

"Oh, Boy," she cried, "it was so funny.  I'm sure they took me for
somebody else.  There was a lovely big room all ready and everybody
kept bowing and calling me 'my lady.'  They couldn't understand my
connection 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 were
going 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 was
rather uneasy about the girl, as a matter of fact.  She must have seen
Eve properly.  But my luck was holding, for on our arrival we found
that Susan had returned.


The following day, January the second, after breakfast, a wire for
Jonah 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 over
to 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 wonderful
creature.  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, "you
wouldn'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," he
replied.  "Only there's nothing doing.  That's all.  My mind is made
up.  This correspondence must now cease.  For myself, as bread-winner
and--"

"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.  A
mountebank's too ordinary.  I want our party to be one of the features
of 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 go
further.  Nobody--"

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

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

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

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

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 without
queering the whole scene."

"Exactly," said Daphne.

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

"So it is," said his wife.  "But people are taking parties, and every
party'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 once
this morning with your mouth full, Jilly's told me three times, and the
others once each.  That's seven altogether.  Eight, with this.  I'm
beginning to get the hang of the thing.  Tell me again."

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

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

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

"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 on
a 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'll
humour him till you're ready."

"Sancho Panza?" said Daphne.  "But we're going to do The Caliph's
Wedding 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's
clothes, with your hair down your back.  Jilly can be----  Wait a
minute."

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

"Here you are," said I.  "Daughter of Don Diego.  Sancho Panza strikes
her when he's going the rounds at night.  'She was beautiful as a
thousand pearls, with her hair inclosed under a net of gold and green
silk.'  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 over
the pages.  "Here it is.  Read that, my dear," and I handed her the
book.

In silence my sister read the famous lines.  Then she laid the book
down, 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 no
good 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 the
circumstances 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 for
Baldwin."

"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 has
been 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 down
to-morrow."

"Thanks awfully."

"Good-bye."

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

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

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

"Libertines?" said Jonah.

"Toss-pots, my ears are to be burned and foul aspersions cast upon a
liver, 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 with
the Scarlets.  But you needn't have  burned my ear."

"Only means some one was talking about you," said Daphne.  "Why did you
say you weren't going?"

"A passion for perversity," said I.

Berry stole a cautious glance at the time.  The hands stood at a
quarter past three.  A slow grin spread over his countenance.

"Didn't you say something about a sacred concert?"  he said.  "Good
Heavens," cried Daphne, jumping up.  "I forgot all about it.  It begins
at thr--"

Arrested by her husband's seraphic smile, she swung round and looked at
the clock.

Berry apostrophized the carpet.

"Sweet are the uses of perversity," he said, with inimitable
inflection.  For a moment his wife eyed him, speechless with
inindignation.  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 the
far corner of the compartment the brooch of a gay green hat winked at
me 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 to
get out at.  That's all."

"How tiresome for you!"

"There are consolations.  You would never have opened your small red
mouth, but for my exclamation.  And I should never have exclaimed, but
for--"

"It's very rude to make personal remarks."  This severely.

"Only when the person's plain or the remark rude.  Note the
alliteration."

"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 should
adjust my handcuffs, run along the foot-board, and dive in the
direction 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 A
Jump for Life has already left the Edgware Road for Reading and is
eagerly expected at Stockton-on-Tees, that the company for which you
work is paying twenty-seven percent and that rehearsals for Kicked to
Death begin on Monday.  However."

I stopped.  The girl was leaning back in her corner, laughing
helplessly.

"It's all very fine to laugh," said I.  "How would you like to be
carried 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 traffic
superintendent 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 fellow
backed into my car at Brooklands, did it twenty pounds' worth of
damage, and then sent in a bill for a new tail-lamp.  At the same
time--"

Here another station roared by.  I was too late to see the name.  "I
shall swear in a minute," said I.  "I can feel it coming.  I suppose we
do stop somewhere, if only to coal, don't we?"

"Well, we may stop before, but I know we stop at Friars Rory, because
that's where I get out."

I turned to her open-mouthed.  She was consulting a wrist-watch and did
not 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 my
cigarette-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're
on the Inner Circle.  We've passed it once, you know, about nine miles
back, I should think.  No, twelve.  This is Shy Junction."  We roared
between the platforms.  "Wonderful how they put these engines along,
isn't it?"

But my companion was staring out of the window.  The next moment she
swung round and looked at me wildly.  Gravely I offered her a
cigarette.  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 superintendent
which will spoil his holiday.  I shall say that, in spite of the fact
that the dark lady with the eyes and the seal-skin coat asked the
porter 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 think
it'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 the
arm of her seat.  I could have sworn the red lips quivered a moment
ago.  I leaned forward.

"Lass," I said, "is it important that you should be at Friars Rory this
morning?"

She looked up quickly.  Then, with a half-laugh, "I did want to
rather," she said.  "But it can't be helped.  You see, my mare, Dear
One--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 be
there 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 then
smiled her thanks over the white cambric.  I let down the window
nearest me and put out my head.  A long look assured me that we were
nearing Ringley.  My idea was to pull the cord, stop the train in the
station, pay the fine, and raise a car in the town, which should bring
us 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 the
distance I could see red houses--Ringley.  I put up my right hand and
felt for the chain.  As I did so, there seemed to be less weigh on the
train--a strange feeling.  I hesitated, the wind flying in my face.  We
were not going so fast--so evenly.  Yet, if we had run through Shy
Junction, surely we were not going to stop at----  The next moment I
saw what it was.  We were the last coach, and there was a gap, widening
slowly, between us and the rest of the train.  We had been slipped.  I
took 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 Ringley
slip."

"And we're going to stop there?"

"Probably with an unconscionable jerk--a proper full stop.  None of
your commas for a slip.  But there!  I might have known.  It's a long
train that breaks no journey, and there's many a slip 'twixt Town and
the North of England.  However.  If there isn't a train back soon, I'm
going to charter a car.  May I have the honour of driving you back to
Rory and the mare?  I'm sure the sight of her mistress will put her on
her legs again quicker than all the slings and mashes of outrageous
surgeons.  I take it you know your Macbeth?"

She laughed merrily.  I looked at her appreciatively, sitting opposite
and perched, as I was, on one of the compartment's dividing arms.

"Sunshine after rain," I murmured.  Sweet she looked in her gay green
hat and her long seal-skin coat.  Beneath this, the green of a skirt
above the slim silk stockings and the bright shoes.  Gloves and bag on
the seat by her side.  The face was eager, clear-cut, its features
regular.  But only the great eyes mattered.  Perhaps, also, the mouth--

"You're a kind man," she said slowly.  "And it was sweet of you to
think of pulling the cord.  But I should have been awfully upset, if
you had."

The coach ran alongside of the platform and stopped with a jerk that
flung me backwards and my lady on to my chest.  I sat up with my arms
full of fur-coat, while its owner struggled to regain her feet.

"Infants in arms need not be paid for," said I, setting her upright
with a smile.  "I hope the station-master saw you, or he mightn't
believe----  Where were we? Oh, I know.  You'd have been upset, would
you?  More upset than this?"

"Oh, much," she said, her eyebrows raised above a faint smile.  "You
see, then I should have been upset properly."

As she spoke, she laid a hand on my shoulder, to steady herself, while
she peered into the mirror above my head.  I looked round and up at the
smiling 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 turned
my 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's
arrival was a real tribute to personality.  Also the vet's morning
report 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 to
choose a spaniel pup.  It was to purchase him that I had started for
Friars Rory that sunshiny day.

"What shall you call him?"  she said, as we made our way to the
kennels.  "I really don't know," said I.  "What about Seal-skin?  Must
be 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, in
turn 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 affectionate
disposition.  And what dog wouldn't turn, if it was put in the wrong
train?  Besides, your coat's so silky."

"But I'm sure my ears don't droop, and I've never had distemper.  Then
there's my pedigree.  You don't know--"

"Don't I?  By A Long Chalk, out of The Common's good enough for most
people."

"Oh, you are hopeless!"  she said, laughing.  She turned to the
scrambling pups.  "Who's for a mad master?"  she said.

Suddenly a bulldog appeared.  She stood regarding us for a moment, her
massive head a little on one side.  Then a great smile spread over her
countenance, and she started to sway in our direction, wagging a
greeting with her hind quarters, as bulldogs do.  Two of the puppies
loped off to meet her.  The long-suffering way in which she permitted
them to mouth her argued that she was accustomed to being the kindly
butt of their exuberance.  The third turned to follow his fellows,
hesitated, caught my lady's eye, and rushed back to his new-found
friend.

"That's the one for me," said I.  "Give me good judgment.  I shall call
him Paris."

"Appropriately.  Off with the old love and on with the new.  I'm sure
he's faithless, and I expect the bulldog's been awfully kind to him,
haven't you, dear?"   She patted the snuffling beauty.  "Besides, I
gave him the glad eye, which wasn't fair."

"I'll bet that's how Venus got the apple, if the truth were known.  Any
way, I'm going to choose him for choosing you.  You see.  We shall get
on well."

"Juno, Juno!" cried a woman's voice from the house.  Immediately the
bulldog started and turned towards the doorway.

"What did I say?" said I.  "Something seemed to tell me you were a
goddess, 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 you
send him?"

"He's there now.  Doing awfully well, too!"

"Taken a first in the Honour School of Love, I suppose?  Is he as good
a 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 fields
and hedgerows, away to the distant hills, the faintest smile hung on
her parted lips.  "He's never given me a day's trouble since he was
born.  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, the
straight brows raised in mockery.  "Which will cost you more, my fair
Olympian, than a glad eye."


A quarter past five.  The train was passing through the outskirts of
London.  A bare ten minutes more, and we should arrive.  I looked
anxiously at the girl, wondering where, when, how I should see her
again.  For the last half-hour we had spoken but little.  She had
seemed sleepy, and I had begged her to rest.  Dreamily she had thanked
me, saying that she had had little sleep the night before.  Then the
eyes had smiled gently and disappeared.  It was almost dark now, so
swift had been the passing  of the winter's day.  Lights shone and
blinked out of the  darkness.  Another train roared by, and we
slackened speed.  Slowly we crawled over a bridge spanning mean
streets.  One could not but mark the bustling scene below.  The sudden
din compelled attention.  I looked  down upon the writhing traffic, the
glistening roadway, the pavements crowded with hurrying, jostling
forms.  An over-lighted public house made the cheap shops seem ill-lit,
poorer still.  Its dirty splendour dominated everything: even the tall
trams took on a lesser light.  The  lumbering roar of wheels, the
insistent clamour of an  obstructed tram, the hoarse shouts of hawkers
crying their  wares--all this rose up above the rumble of the
slow-moving train.  I was glad when we had left the spot behind.  It
would not do after the country-side.  It occurred to me that, but a
little space back some seventy rolling  years--here also had stretched
fair green fields.  Perchance the very ones poor dying Falstaff had
babbled of.  We slunk past an asylum--a long mass, dark, sinister.  By
this even the trams seemed to hasten.  I could just hear their thin
song, 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 I
regarded her closed eyes.  In five minutes we should be in, and there
were 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 a
handful of raindrops against the windows.  For a moment I sat silent,
looking out into the night, thinking.  Except for a luncheon, to-morrow
was free.  And I could cut that.  A network of shining rails showed
that the terminus was at hand.  I turned to my lady.

"Then we shall meet again to-morrow," I said gravely.  "I have to go
down 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 to
look into the glass.  "Well, you've been awfully kind, and I'm very
grateful.  And now--" she swung round--"good-bye."  She held out a slim
hand.

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.  "I
shall 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 a
quarter, and we shall be there.  Can anyone tell me why I consented to
come?"

"To please yourself," said Daphne shortly.

"Wrong," said her husband.  "The correct answer will appear in our next
issue.  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 my
handkerchief in my shoe, and my cigarette-case has lodged slightly to
the right and six inches below my heart.  You'll have to make a ring
round 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 on
to 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, Daphne
and Jill priceless.  With her magnificent hair unbound, her simple
boy's dress, her little rough shoes at the foot of legs bare to the
knee, my sister was a glorious sight.  And an exquisite Jill, in green
and  white and gold, ruffled it with the daintiest air and a light in
her grey eyes that shamed her jewellery.  Berry was  simply immense.  A
brilliant make-up, coupled with the  riotous extravagance of his dress,
carried him half-way.  But the pomp of carriage, the circumstance of
gait 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 my
lady.  That was just after supper, and she was sitting on the edge of a
box, scanning her programme.  All lovely, dressed as Potpourri.

"You were right," said I.  "The world is small."  We floated into the
music.  "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.  Berry
stopped 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 have
already devised a lingering death."

"Look here, old chap," said I, "there's some mistake.  I said I'd give
you 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 you
both at the same time."

Daphne, Berry and I were playing a three-ball match, while Jill and
Jonah--who had sprained his wrist--were walking round with us.  Berry
is rather good really, but just now he was wearing a patch over one
eye, which made him hopeless.

It was glorious spring weather on the coast of Devon.  A little village
is Feth.  Over and round about it the wind blows always, but the
cluster of white cottages and the old brown inn themselves lie close in
a hollow of the moorland, flanked by the great cliffs.  Only the grey
church, set up on the heights, half a mile distant, endures the
tempests.  The wind passes over Feth and is gone.  A busy fellow, the
wind.  He has no time to stop.  Not so the sunshine.  That lingers with
Feth all day, decking: the place gloriously.  It is good to be a pet of
the sun.  So are the gardens of Feth bright with flowers, the white
walls dazzling, the stream, that scrambles over brown pebbles to the
little bay, merry water.

Except for the natives, we had the place to ourselves.  But then Feth
sees few visitors at any season.  Sixteen miles from a station is its
salvation.  True, there is Mote Abbey hard by--a fine old place with an
ancient 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 summer
at the house itself parties assembled.  But the family was away now.

The round of golf proceeded.  "How many is that?" said Berry, as he
sliced 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's
Henry?"

I handed him the last-named--a favourite cleek.  The caddie had gone to
collect the flotsam.

"Now then.  Ladies and gentlemen, with your kind permission I shall now
proceed to beat the sphere into the sky."

It was a tremendous shot, and we could see that it must have reached
the green; but when we came up and found the ball in the hole nobody
was more surprised than Berry.  Of course, he didn't show it.  Berry
doesn't give things away.

"Ah!" he said pleasantly.  "That's better.  I'm beginning to get used
to playing with one eye.  You know, all the time I--er--seem to see two
balls."

"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 the
Parisian accent)--has ipso facto--(Latin of the Augustan Age)--placed
me beyond the pricks of criticism.  The venom, brother, which you would
squirt upon me, bespatters but yourself.  Boy, place me the globe upon
yon pinnacle of sand.  So.  Now indicate to me the distant pin.  Thank
you.  Do I see it?  No.  Natheless (obsolete, but pure), I say nameless
it 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 after
luncheon, and Daphne was already asleep.  Jill and Jonah drooped
comfortably in huge chairs.  Berry sprawled upon a sofa.

"I suppose we outrage what you call your sense of decency." murmured
the latter.

"You do.  Incidentally, you also irritate me, because I shall have to
go round alone."

"Friend, your foul egoism leaves me unmoved.  Go forth and harry your
balls.  I am about to slumber like a little child.  Do you think I
shall 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 no
option 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--children
smoking," I said, moving towards the door.  "Besides, a little
exercise'll do you good.  There is a box in my room--you know where
that is?"

"Where?"  snarled my brother-in-law.

I put my head round the door and looked at him.  "Immediately above the
touts'," said I.

The breeze of the morning had died away, and though the month was the
month of April, it might have been a midsummer afternoon.  I started on
my solitary round, well enough pleased, really, to be alone.  The
weather 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 tumbling
waves.  On an idle impulse I left my clubs at the fifth tee and
scrambled on up the green slope to gaze upon and over the sea below.  I
have a weakness for high places on the edges of England.  I cannot
match the dignity of them.  Where yellow sands invite, these do not
even stoop to challenge.  They are superb, demigods, the Royalty of the
coast.

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 the
city, and about the King, and what a pretty Princess the King's
daughter 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 in
a great copper castle, with a great many walls and towers round about
it; no one but the King may go in and out there, for it has been
prophesied that she shall marry a common soldier, and the King can't
bear 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 the
warm 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 a
girl 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 him
indeed."

Once he thought to himself,' It is a very strange thing that one cannot
get to see the Princess.  They all say she is very beautiful; but what
is the use of that, if she has always to sit in the great copper castle
with the many towers?  Can I not get to see her at all?  Where is my
tinder-box?'  And so he struck a light, and whisk!  came the dog with
eyes as big as teacups.

"'It is midnight, certainly, said the soldier; 'but I should very much
like 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 his
feet.  He waved delightedly to two specks on the sands below.  Then:

"Good-bye, Cousin Lallie," he cried.  "I'll be home by six," and tore
away down the green slope like a mad thing.  But his cousin never
waked.  I watched her meditatively.

A skirt of grey-blue tweed, and the fresh white of a blouse beneath a
smart 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 a
face at once strong and gentle, clear-cut under its thick black hair,
which was parted in the middle and hung low over each temple.  Her
brows 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 the
place and continued the story aloud:

"And the dog was outside the door directly, and, before the soldier
thought it, came back with the Princess.  She sat upon the dog's back
and slept; and every one could see she was a  real Princess, for she
was so lovely.  The soldier could not refrain from kissing her, for he
was 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 a
fairy 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 happened
to be here to take his place.  He asked me to say he should be home not
later 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 and
regarded 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 was
playing round your lips.  And this smile told me that he had two twin
sisters who dwelt In your eyes.  And, like the soldier, I wanted to see
them, Princess."

"Well, you have now, haven't you?"

I looked at her critically.  "I'm afraid they must be out," said I.  In
spite 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 never
have 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 one
of 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 famous
for 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 people
believe," said I.  "But if you don't believe it yourself, how can you
expect--"

"I never said I didn't believe it myself.  Besides, I don't want to
argue.  I want to watch the smiles playing 'Here we go round the
mulberry bush.'"

The girl broke into peals of silvery laughter.  "Is my nose as bad as
all 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 that
game any more than the bells of St. Clement Danes are ever used by
children playing 'Oranges and lemons.'"

"Admit it was a floater on your part, and I'll let you play a round
with 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 manage
Hans Andersen?"

"Every time," said I, picking up the book.  I shouldered her clubs and
together 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 nearly
died 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 holes
you play directly away from the sea.  Then the fifteenth takes a sharp
turn to the left, skirting the deer-park of Mote Abbey, while the
sixteenth bears to the left again, heading straight for the club-house
and the coast once more.

My lady was a pretty player.  I gave her two strokes a hole and led
till the fourteenth, but on that green she holed a ten-foot putt which
made us all square.

If she hadn't sliced her drive from the fifteenth tee, it would have
been a beautiful shot.  We watched it curl over the grey wall into the
sunshot 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 better
than 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, the
green's about a hundred and twenty yards away from the wall on this
side.  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 giant
might effect an entrance."

"Yes," she said quietly, "I got brother to put that board there.  We
tried 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 the
fair park.

When we reached the place where the board was posted, she touched my
hand and pointed to her little brown shoe.  For an instant she rested
on my palm.  The next moment she was on the top of the wall.  She
smiled her thanks before disappearing.  I followed with the clubs.
There was a ladder on the other side.  She was awaiting my descent.  In
silence we walked forward together.  Presently I touched her arm and
stood still.  She turned and looked at me, the sun making all manner of
exquisite 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 "thousand
ships."  In the slight action all the charm of her was voiced
exquisitely.  Grace, sweetness and dignity--all in a bow.  So it was
always.  Helen's features would not have fired a sheepcote: the charm
that lighted them blotted out a city.  Cleopatra's form would not have
spoiled a slave:  the magnetism of her ruined Marc Antony.  Elizabeth's
speech would not have sunk a coracle:  the personality behind it
smashed 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 you
have 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 at
all."

"What are they, then?"

"Broomsticks."

It was the best part of a mile to the fair lawn, where we holed out
underneath the cedars.  I won with fourteen, which wasn't bad,
considering I was bunkered in a bed of daffodils.  She gave me tea in
the old library, sweet with the fragrance of pot-pourri.  Out of its
latticed windows I could see the rolling woods, bright in their fresh
green livery.  For nearly an hour and a half we sat talking.  I told
her of Daphne and the others.  She told me of her mother and sisters
and 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 for
her 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 deep
woodland and its warm park, its gentle-eyed deer, its oaks and elms and
cedars, its rose-garden and its old paved court.  How grateful to lean
out of her bedroom window into the cool, quiet, starlit nights.  How
pleased to watch the setting sun making the ragged clerestory more
beautiful than did all its precious panes."

I stopped.  She was sitting back in her chair by the window, chin in
air, showing her soft, white throat, gazing with half-closed eyes up at
the 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 come
again."

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 entered
the 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 ten
minutes ago."

"Oh, all right."   She rose and turned to me.  "Let's go, then.  We'll
probably meet them bringing it back."

The half-light lent the old quire's walls a rare beauty.  A great peace
hung 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 in
circumference.  Its great oak door was closed.  I could see one tiny
window--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 the
girl 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 most
perfect thing that ever happened.  Hush!  We're going to have the time
of our lives."

Again I rolled in an ecstasy of mirth.  As the comedy of the situation
dawned 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, if
insane, when found.  At any rate, with the aid of artificial
respiration--"

"Rubbish!"  said Daphne.  "Some one must hear us  soon."

"My dear, the noise we can make wouldn't flush a titlark at twenty
paces.  No, no!"  he went on airily, "a lingering death awaits us.  I
only 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 never
find 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 upon
Berry and rent him.  As it died down, we heard him bitterly comparing
them to wolves and curs about a lion at bay.  Then a match was struck
and there were groping sounds.

"When you've quite finished with my feet," said Daphne in a withering
tone.

"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 of
agony.  "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 is
proud of her dainty feet.

"Vixen," replied her spouse.

I slipped my arm into that of the girl, who was leaning against the
wall shaking with laughter.  Tears were  coursing down my cheeks.  I
drew her away from the  door and whispered brokenly in her ear.  She
nodded and  pulled herself together.  Then she went to the door and
knocked.  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 some
boys 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 did
call.  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 a
minute--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 of
us laid it down for a moment and, really, in this darkness you can't
see 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 vile
accents I heard but a moment ago.  A man of depraved instincts and
profligate ways, he is no fit companion for a young and innocent girl.
Moreover, viper-like, he bears malice towards us, who have shielded him
for years."

"How awful," said the girl.

"Yes," said Berry, "for your own sake, dear lady, beware of him.  And
for ours, too, I beg you.  On no account accept his proffered
assistance--in the matter of the key, I mean.  If he really has
matches, tell him to throw them in.  Adopt a hectoring tone and he will
fear you.  But, remember, he is as cunning as a serpent, Let but that
key 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 which
my companion at last gave vent.  I joined her, and the meadow resounded
with our merriment.  When we had recovered a little:

"Will you have the matches?" said I, standing beneath the window, "or
shall 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 we
heard a match struck, and the groping sounds recommenced.  The girl and
I 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 copper
castle, and here"--with a bow--"the pretty Princess.  The tinder-box I
have 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, pretty
Princess."

She turned a laughing face to mine.  Suddenly, as I bent forward, the
eyes 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 the
turmoil I seemed to discern Berry's fat laugh.  The next second a large
key hurtled through the window.

I picked it up and strode to the door.  When I had put it into the
keyhole, 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, uncarpeted
stairs, 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 old
friends."

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.  It
cost 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 left
England, to study, I understood.  He always drew rather well.  Then one
spring morning I struck him in Piccadilly, by the railings of the Green
Park.  He was standing still, a large, blue air-ball in his hand,
steadfastly regarding the Porters' Rest.  Our greeting was
characteristic.

"Well, George," said I.  He looked round.

"Hullo, old chap."   He pointed to the Rest.  "Rather nice, that.  Pity
there 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 know
what 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 can
you 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 to
Richmond now."  He pointed to the air-ball.  "There was a child there
yesterday, playing in the Park, with eyes--I've only seen their like
once before.  That was in Oporto."  He sighed.  "Will you come
to-morrow at eleven? Cheyne Row.  I forget the number, but it's got a
green door."

"I'd love to."

He hailed a taxi.

"That's right, then."  He turned to the driver.  "Go to Richmond," he
said, 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.  And
all the time I sat still upon the throne, and George painted.  About
his 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 was
pointing to a canvas, which leaned--face inwards--against the wall.  I
walked across the studio, and turned it round.  A girl's picture.  A
girl in a flowered dress and a shady hat, her slight shining legs
crossed at the knee.  Sitting square in the high-backed chair, he was
painting her, one small hand on each of its rosewood arms.  The face
was most of all unfinished.

"You've got those legs well," said I, "And I like the dress.  She looks
rather 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 began
deliberately to scrape out all the work he had done that morning.  I
watched him, petrified with horror.

"Sorry, old chap," he said, smiling.

"Stop," I cried.  "I like that curve of the nostril.  It denotes the
force 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 my
third 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 how
I 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, I
talked and talked.  Heaven knows what I said.  After an hour my tongue
clove to the roof of my mouth, but I talked on.  And all the time
George alternately bent his brows upon me, and hung himself at the
canvas, uttering strange, smothered cries and oaths, but painting,
painting....  At a quarter past two he laid down his palette and cried
to me to descend.  Stiffly I did so.

For a long moment I looked at the portrait.  Then I turned to George
and 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 was
almost finished.  Such a fine, brave face.  Not a bit pretty--just
beautiful.  Dark hair showing under the brim of the hat, steady brown
eyes, 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 morning
all 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 Aunt
Prudence always used to say--"

"I know.  'Beware of pickpockets.  No smoking.'  They quote her in the
lifts 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 lot
of 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.  I
believe I could say them.  But then I was always good at poetry." This
with a bow.

She rose and made the daintiest curtsey.  "Would have been better," she
said, resuming her seat in the depths of 'Luxury.' "But the skirts of
to-day don't help."

"And my bow would have been deeper: but the braces I bought yesterday
afternoon--"

"That'll do," she said, laughing.  "Seriously, where is Mr. Larel, and
why are you here?"

"George is probably scouring Battersea for a child he saw there last
autumn with ears such as he has never beheld outside Khartoum.  I am
here, 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's
Square, near where I get my shirts.  Nobody recognized us.  George had
a cigar in his mouth, and his exact words were, 'Wottabow Hursday?' I
had some of the wood pavement in my eye, and my exact words were
therefore 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 of
that.  However.  To tell you the truth, I don't know that I'm very
angry with him.  I shall pretend to be, of course.  But, now that from
admiring 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 so
appeals to your palate?"

She laughed.  "I don't know anything about cigarettes, really, but
these seem so fresh."

"My dear," said I, "you could have said nothing more calculated to warm
the cockles of my heart.  You are a connoisseurs (very good indeed).
These cigarettes are actually straight from the stable, I mean the
Ottoman Empire.  I shall send you a box this afternoon by Carter
Paterson."

"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's
maize.  I like it myself: it's so nourishing.  Besides, it goes so well
with a blue suit.  Talking of which, with a flowered dress and dark
hair, 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 play
for safety in dress.  They have begun to dare.  And contrasts show
imagination.  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-past
seven this morning, and the air--"

"I know.  It was like hock-cup out of a stone jar, while the others are
on 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 the
patent-leather of your little shoes, or perhaps you will lend me one of
your large eyes.  Of the two, I'd rather have the eye.  There's more
room."

"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 about
this 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 gave
way to quiet laughter.  I nodded solemnly.

"Very good," I said.  "Now I shall simply have to have an eye.  No mere
nail will suffice."

"You will have nothing of the kind."

I rose and walked to the window in some dudgeon.  After considerable
focussing, I managed to locate the environs of my collar in a dusty
pane.  While the work of reconstruction was proceeding:

"Once upon a time," said I, "there was a queen.  She was very beautiful
from the crown of her little head, which the dark hair kept always, to
the soles of her shining feet.  And people loved to look at her and
hear the music of her laughing.  Only, it was no good going on
Thursday,  because that was early-closing day in her realm, and she and
The Mint and The Dogs' Cemetery, and all the other places of interest
were closed.  You weren't allowed to see the crown jewels, which she
wore in her eyes..."

Outside a taxi slowed down and stopped.  Cautiously  I peered out of
the 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'd
fixed 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 took
off 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 Miss
Cicester, you would have crawled about the room, muttering abject
apologies and asking her to kick you.  But as it's me--"

"No, I shouldn't.  I should have said that my housekeeper'd been taken
ill 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 to
the 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, supposing
you 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.  Now
I come to think, she was something like the picture.  I thought she was
a 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 the
street.  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.  I
just 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 hoping
against hope.

"Er--yes," said I.

At that, George uttered a terrible cry, snatched up his coat, and
before I could stop him, rushed out of the studio.  I put my head out
of 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 your
show.  Kindly ascend the throne.  All queens do sooner or later."

"Really, I think he's had enough," she said, settling herself in the
high-backed chair.

After a little argument:

"All you've got to remember," I said, "is that you're awfully sorry
you'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, and
that you don't know who he was, but you suppose it was alright.  Only
you 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 taken
rather a fancy----  Here he is.  Yes, queens always have their hands
kissed.  All real queens..."

I seized my hat, stick, and gloves, and faded behind the curtains.  She
was really wonderful.  "Mr. Larel, will you ever forgive me? I'm most
awfully sorry.  D'you know I quite forgot.  I suppose you'd given me
up? And now it's too late.  Oh, yes.  I only came to apologize.  I
can't think--"

George couldn't get a word in edgeways.  I watched him through the
crack of the curtains.  His face was a study.  Of course, he was
mentally cursing himself for sending the wire so precipitately, and
wondering how the deuce he could explain its arrival without revealing
the true state of affairs.  Apparently in the end he decided for the
moment, at any rate, to say nothing about it, for, as soon as she let
him speak, he assured her it didn't matter at all, and passed, somewhat
uneasily, 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't
him.  At least," she added, leaning forward and looking carefully at
the 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 one
clean-shaven?" he wailed.

"So it is," said Margery.  "For the moment, the shadow--"

"I'll never paint again!"  said George fiercely.  "They've hung over
each other's portraits for a week--" "Oh!" cried Margery.  "And the
first 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 both
on the same day."

"You two," said George.

"We two give you five minutes," I said.  "Of these, three may be
conveniently occupied by your full and abject apology, and two by the
arranging of our next sittings.  Then we two are going to lunch.  It
is, 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 never
apologized."

"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 she
changed her mind and raised her eyebrows instead.

"This isn't fair," I said.  "You can't ride with the herring and run
with 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 just
learned my fool of servant misunderstood hasty instructions and refused
you 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 were
already 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 many
more 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 suspiciously
keen 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 sort
of bilge."

"This is an outrage," I gasped.  This was nothing but the truth.  It
really was, They were simply drawing a bow at a venture.

"Don't tell me--" Berry began.

"I shan't," said I.

"Naughty temper," s

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