"It arrived this morning. You had omitted to stamp it. There was
threepence to pay."
"Oh, I say, I'm fearfully sorry. I must...."
Major-General Sir Masterman Petherick-Soames waved down his apologies.
"It is not the monetary loss which has so distressed my niece, but the
letter's contents. My niece is under the impression that last night she
and you became engaged to be married, Mr. Mulliner."
Osbert coughed.
"Well--er--not exactly. Not altogether. Not, as it were ... I mean ...
You see...."
"I see very clearly. You have been trifling with my niece's affections,
Mr. Mulliner. And I have always sworn that if ever a man trifled with
the affections of any of my nieces, I would...." He broke off and,
taking a lump of sugar from the bowl, balanced it absently on the edge
of a slice of toast. "Did you ever hear of a Captain Walkinshaw?"
"No."
"Captain J. G. Walkinshaw? Dark man with an eyeglass. Used to play the
saxophone."
"No."
"Ah? I thought you might have met him. He trifled with the affections
of my niece, Hester. I horsewhipped him on the steps of the Drone's
Club. Is the name Blenkinsop-Bustard familiar to you?"
"No."
"Rupert Blenkinsop-Bustard trifled with the affections of my niece
Gertrude. He was one of the Somersetshire Blenkinsop-Bustards. Wore a
fair moustache and kept pigeons. I horsewhipped him on the steps of the
Junior Bird-Fanciers. By the way, Mr. Mulliner, what is your club?"
"The United Jade-Collectors," quavered Osbert.
"Has it steps?"
"I--I believe so."
"Good. Good." A dreamy look came into the General's eyes. "Well,
the announcement of your engagement to my niece Mabel will appear
in to-morrow's _Morning Post_. If it is contradicted.... Well, good
morning, Mr. Mulliner, good morning."
And, replacing in the dish the piece of bacon which he had been poising
on a teaspoon, Major-General Sir Masterman Petherick-Soames left the
room.
* * * * *
The meditation to which my nephew Osbert had given himself up on the
previous night was as nothing to the meditation to which he gave
himself up now. For fully an hour he must have sat, his head supported
by his hands, frowning despairingly at the remains of the marmalade on
the plate before him. Though, like all the Mulliners, a clear thinker,
he had to confess himself completely non-plussed. The situation had
become so complicated that after awhile he went up to the library and
tried to work it out on paper, letting X equal himself. But even this
brought no solution, and he was still pondering deeply when Parker came
up to announce lunch.
"Lunch?" said Osbert, amazed. "Is it lunch-time already?"
"Yes, sir. And might I be permitted to offer my respectful
congratulations and good wishes, sir?"
"Eh?"
"On your engagement, sir. The General happened to mention to me as
I let him out that a marriage had been arranged and would shortly
take place between yourself and Miss Mabel Petherick-Soames. It was
fortunate that he did so, as I was thus enabled to give the gentleman
the information he required."
"Gentleman?"
"A Mr. Bashford Braddock, sir. He rang up about an hour after the
General had left and said he had been informed of your engagement and
wished to know if the news was well-founded. I assured him that it
was, and he said he would be calling to see you later. He was very
anxious to know when you would be at home. He seemed a nice, friendly
gentleman, sir."
Osbert rose as if the chair in which he sat had suddenly become
incandescent.
"Parker!"
"Sir?"
"I am unexpectedly obliged to leave London, Parker. I don't know where
I am going--probably the Zambesi or Greenland--but I shall be away a
long time. I shall close the house and give the staff an indefinite
holiday. They will receive three months' wages in advance, and at the
end of that period will communicate with my lawyers, Messrs. Peabody,
Thrupp, Thrupp, Thrupp, Thrupp and Peabody of Lincoln's Inn. Inform
them of this."
"Very good, sir."
"And, Parker."
"Sir?"
"I am thinking of appearing shortly in some amateur theatricals. Kindly
step round the corner and get me a false wig, a false nose, some false
whiskers and a good stout pair of blue spectacles."
* * * * *
Osbert's plans when, after a cautious glance up and down the street, he
left the house an hour later and directed a taxi-cab to take him to an
obscure hotel in the wildest and least-known part of the Cromwell Road
were of the vaguest. It was only when he reached that haven and had
thoroughly wigged, nosed, whiskered and blue-spectacled himself that he
began to formulate a definite plan of campaign. He spent the rest of
the day in his room, and shortly before lunch next morning set out for
the Second-Hand Clothing establishment of the Bros. Cohen, near Covent
Garden, to purchase a complete traveller's outfit. It was his intention
to board the boat sailing on the morrow for India and to potter awhile
about the world, taking in _en route_ Japan, South Africa, Peru,
Mexico, China, Venezuela, the Fiji Islands and other beauty-spots.
All the Cohens seemed glad to see him when he arrived at the shop. They
clustered about him in a body, as if guessing by instinct that here
came one of those big orders. At this excellent emporium one may buy,
in addition to second-hand clothing, practically anything that exists:
and the difficulty--for the brothers are all thrustful salesmen--is to
avoid doing so. At the end of five minutes, Osbert was mildly surprised
to find himself in possession of a smoking-cap, three boxes of
poker-chips, some polo sticks, a fishing-rod, a concertina, a ukulele,
and a bowl of goldfish.
He clicked his tongue in annoyance. These men appeared to him to
have got quite a wrong angle on the situation. They seemed to think
that he proposed to make his travels one long round of pleasure. As
clearly as he was able, he tried to tell them that in the few broken
years that remained to him before a shark or jungle-fever put an end
to his sorrows he would have little heart for polo, for poker, or for
playing the concertina while watching the gambols of goldfish. They
might just as well offer him, he said querulously, a cocked hat or a
sewing-machine.
Instant activity prevailed among the brothers.
"Fetch the gentleman his sewing-machine, Isadore."
"And, while you're getting him the cocked hat, Lou," said Irving,
"ask the customer in the shoe department if he'll be kind enough to
step this way. You're in luck," he assured Osbert. "If you're going
travelling in foreign parts, he's the very man to advise you. You've
heard of Mr. Braddock?"
There was very little of Osbert's face visible behind his whiskers, but
that little paled beneath its tan.
"Mr. B-b-b...?"
"That's right. Mr. Braddock, the explorer."
"Air!" said Osbert. "Give me air!"
He made rapidly for the door, and was about to charge through when
it opened to admit a tall, distinguished-looking man of military
appearance.
"Shop!" cried the newcomer in a clear, patrician voice, and Osbert
reeled back against a pile of trousers. It was Major-General Sir
Masterman Petherick-Soames.
A platoon of Cohens advanced upon him, Isadore hastily snatching up
a fireman's helmet and Irving a microscope and a couple of jig-saw
puzzles. The General waved them aside.
"Do you," he asked, "keep horsewhips?"
"Yes, sir. Plenty of horsewhips."
"I want a nice strong one with a medium sized handle and lots of
spring," said Major-General Sir Masterman Petherick-Soames.
And at this moment Lou returned, followed by Bashford Braddock.
"Is this the gentleman?" said Bashford Braddock genially. "You're going
abroad, sir, I understand. Delighted if I can be of any service."
"Bless my soul," said Major-General Sir Masterman Petherick-Soames.
"Bashford? It's so confoundedly dark in here, I didn't recognize you."
"Switch on the light, Irving," said Isadore.
"No, don't," said Osbert. "My eyes are weak."
"If your eyes are weak you ought not to be going to the Tropics," said
Bashford Braddock.
"This gentleman a friend of yours?" asked the General.
"Oh, no. I'm just going to help him to buy an outfit."
"The gentleman's already got a smoking-cap, poker-chips, polo sticks, a
fishing-rod, a concertina, a ukulele, a bowl of goldfish, a cocked hat
and a sewing-machine," said Isadore.
"Ah?" said Bashford Braddock. "Then all he will require now is a
sun helmet, a pair of puttees, and a pot of ointment for relieving
alligator-bites."
With the rapid decision of an explorer who is buying things for which
somebody else is going to pay, he completed the selection of Osbert's
outfit.
"And what brings you here, Bashford?" asked the General.
"Me? Oh, I looked in to buy a pair of spiked boots. I want to trample
on a snake."
"An odd coincidence. I came here to buy a horsewhip to horsewhip a
snake."
"A bad week-end for snakes," said Bashford Braddock.
The General nodded gravely.
"Of course, my snake," he said, "may prove not to be a snake. In
classifying him as a snake I may have misjudged him. In that case I
shall not require this horsewhip. Still, they're always useful to have
about the house."
"Undoubtedly. Lunch with me, General?"
"Delighted, my dear fellow."
"Good-bye, sir," said Bashford Braddock, giving Osbert a friendly nod.
"Glad I was able to be of some use. When do you sail?"
"Gentleman's sailing to-morrow morning on the _Rajputana_," said
Isadore.
"What!" cried Major-General Sir Masterman Petherick-Soames. "Bless my
soul! I didn't realize you were going to _India_. I was out there for
years and can give you all sorts of useful hints. The old _Rajputana_?
Why, I know the purser well. I'll come and see you off and have a chat
with him. No doubt I shall be able to get you a number of little extra
attentions. No, no, my dear fellow, don't thank me. I have a good deal
on my mind at the moment, and it will be a relief to do somebody a
kindness."
* * * * *
It seemed to Osbert, as he crawled back to the shelter of his Cromwell
Road bedroom, that Fate was being altogether too rough with him.
Obviously, if Sir Masterman Petherick-Soames intended to come down to
the boat to see him off, it would be madness to attempt to sail. On
the deck of a liner under the noon-day sun the General must inevitably
penetrate his disguise. His whole scheme of escape must be cancelled
and another substituted. Osbert ordered two pots of black coffee, tied
a wet handkerchief round his forehead, and plunged once more into
thought.
It has been frequently said of the Mulliners that you may perplex but
you cannot baffle them. It was getting on for dinner-time before Osbert
finally decided upon a plan of action: but this plan, he perceived as
he examined it, was far superior to the first one.
He had been wrong, he saw, in thinking of flying to foreign climes. For
one who desired as fervently as he did never to see Major-General Sir
Masterman Petherick-Soames again in this world, the only real refuge
was a London suburb. Any momentary whim might lead Sir Masterman to
pack a suit-case and take the next boat to the Far East, but nothing
would ever cause him to take a tram for Dulwich, Cricklewood, Winchmore
Hill, Brixton, Balham or Surbiton. In those trackless wastes Osbert
would be safe.
Osbert decided to wait till late at night; then go back to his house in
South Audley Street, pack his collection of old jade and a few other
necessaries, and vanish into the unknown.
* * * * *
It was getting on for midnight when, creeping warily to the familiar
steps, he inserted his latch-key in the familiar key-hole. He had
feared that Bashford Braddock might be watching the house, but there
were no signs of him. He slipped swiftly into the dark hall and closed
the front door softly behind him.
It was at this moment that he became aware that from under the door of
the dining-room at the other end of the hall there was stealing a thin
stream of light.
* * * * *
For an instant, this evidence that the house was not, as he had
supposed, unoccupied startled Osbert considerably. Then, recovering
himself, he understood what must have happened. Parker, his man,
instead of leaving as he had been told to do, was taking advantage of
his employer's presumed absence from London to stay on and do some
informal entertaining. Osbert, thoroughly incensed, hurried to the
dining-room and felt that his suspicion had been confirmed. On the
table were set out all the materials, except food and drink, of a cosy
little supper for two. The absence of food and drink was accounted for,
no doubt, by the fact that Parker and--Osbert saw only too good reason
to fear--his lady-friend were down in the larder, fetching them.
Osbert boiled from his false wig to the soles of his feet with a
passionate fury. So this was the sort of thing that went on the moment
his back was turned, was it? There were heavy curtains hiding the
window, and behind these he crept. It was his intention to permit the
feast to begin and then, stepping forth like some avenging Nemesis,
to confront his erring man-servant and put it across him in no
uncertain manner. Bashford Braddock and Major-General Sir Masterman
Petherick-Soames, with their towering stature and whipcord muscles,
might intimidate him, but with a shrimp like Parker he felt that he
could do himself justice. Osbert had been through much in the last
forty-eight hours, and unpleasantness with a man who, like Parker,
stood a mere five feet five in his socks appeared to him rather in the
nature of a tonic.
He had not been waiting long when there came to his ears the sound of
footsteps outside. He softly removed his wig, his nose, his whiskers
and his blue spectacles. There must be no disguise to soften the
shock when Parker found himself confronted. Then, peeping through the
curtains, he prepared to spring.
Osbert did not spring. Instead, he shrank back like a more than
ordinarily diffident tortoise into its shell, and tried to achieve the
maximum of silence by breathing through his ears. For it was no Parker
who had entered, no frivolous lady-friend, but a couple of plug-uglies
of such outstanding physique that Bashford Braddock might have been the
little brother of either of them.
Osbert stood petrified. He had never seen a burglar before, and he
wished, now that he was seeing these, that it could have been arranged
for him to do so through a telescope. At this close range, they
gave him much the same feeling the prophet Daniel must have had on
entering the lions' den, before his relations with the animals had
been established on their subsequent basis of easy camaraderie. He was
thankful that when the breath which he had been holding for some eighty
seconds at length forced itself out in a loud gasp, the noise was
drowned by the popping of a cork.
It was from a bottle of Osbert's best Bollinger that this cork had been
removed. The marauders, he was able to see, were men who believed
in doing themselves well. In these days when almost everybody is on
some sort of diet it is rarely that one comes across the old-fashioned
type of diner who does not worry about balanced meals and calories
but just squares his shoulders and goes at it till his eyes bubble.
Osbert's two guests plainly belonged to this nearly obsolete species.
They were drinking out of tankards and eating three varieties of meat
simultaneously, as if no such thing as a high blood-pressure had ever
been invented. A second pop announced the opening of another quart of
champagne.
At the outset of the proceedings, there had been little or nothing in
the way of supper-table conversation. But now, the first keen edge of
his appetite satisfied by about three pounds of ham, beef and mutton,
the burglar who sat nearest to Osbert was able to relax. He looked
about him approvingly.
"Nice little crib, this, Ernest," he said.
"R!" replied his companion--a man of few words, and those somewhat
impeded by cold potatoes and bread.
"Must have been some real swells in here one time and another."
"R!"
"Baronets and such, I wouldn't be surprised."
"R!" said the second burglar, helping himself to more champagne and
mixing in a little port, sherry, Italian vermouth, old brandy and green
Chartreuse to give it body.
The first burglar looked thoughtful.
"Talking of baronets," he said, "a thing I've often wondered is--well,
suppose you're having a dinner, see?"
"R!"
"As it might be in this very room."
"R!"
"Well, would a baronet's sister go in before the daughter of the
younger son of a peer? I've often wondered about that."
The second burglar finished his champagne, port, sherry, Italian
vermouth, old brandy and green Chartreuse, and mixed himself another.
"Go in?"
"Go in to dinner."
"If she was quicker on her feet, she would," said the second burglar.
"She'd get to the door first. Stands to reason."
The first burglar raised his eyebrows.
"Ernest," he said coldly, "you talk like an uneducated son of a
what-not. Haven't you never been taught nothing about the rules and
manners of good Society?"
The second burglar flushed. It was plain that the rebuke had touched a
tender spot. There was a strained silence. The first burglar resumed
his meal. The second burglar watched him with a hostile eye. He had the
air of a man who is waiting for his chance, and it was not long before
he found it.
"Harold," he said.
"Well?" said the first burglar.
"Don't gollup your food, Harold," said the second burglar.
The first burglar started. His eyes gleamed with sudden fury. His
armour, like his companion's, had been pierced.
"Who's golluping his food?"
"You are."
"I am?"
"Yes, you."
"Who, me?"
"R!"
"Golluping my food?"
"R! Like a pig or something."
It was evident to Osbert, peeping warily through the curtains, that
the generous fluids which these two men had been drinking so lavishly
had begun to have their effect. They spoke thickly, and their eyes had
become red and swollen.
"I may not know all about baronets' younger sisters," said the burglar
Ernest, "but I don't gollup my food like pigs or something."
And, as if to drive home the reproach, he picked up the leg of mutton
and began to gnaw it with an affected daintiness.
The next moment the battle had been joined. The spectacle of the
other's priggish object-lesson was too much for the burglar Harold.
He plainly resented tuition in the amenities from one on whom he had
always looked as a social inferior. With a swift movement of the
hand he grasped the bottle before him and bounced it smartly on his
colleague's head.
Osbert Mulliner cowered behind the curtain. The sportsman in him
whispered that he was missing something good, for ring-seats to view
which many men would have paid large sums, but he could not nerve
himself to look out. However, there was plenty of interest in the
thing, even if you merely listened. The bumps and crashes seemed
to indicate that the two principals were hitting one another with
virtually everything in the room except the wall-paper and the large
sideboard. Now they appeared to be grappling on the floor, anon
fighting at long range with bottles. Words and combinations of whose
existence he had till then been unaware, floated to Osbert's ears: and
more and more he asked himself, as the combat proceeded: What would the
harvest be?
And then, with one titanic crash, the battle ceased as suddenly as it
had begun.
* * * * *
It was some moments before Osbert Mulliner could bring himself to peep
from behind the curtains. When he did so, he seemed to be gazing upon
one of those Orgy scenes which have done so much to popularize the
motion-pictures. Scenically, the thing was perfect. All that was needed
to complete the resemblance was a few attractive-looking girls with
hardly any clothes on.
He came out and gaped down at the ruins. The burglar Harold was lying
with his head in the fireplace: the burglar Ernest was doubled up
under the table: and it seemed to Osbert almost absurd to think that
these were the same hearty fellows who had come into the room to take
pot-luck so short a while before. Harold had the appearance of a man
who has been passed through a wringer. Ernest gave the illusion of
having recently become entangled in some powerful machinery. If, as was
probable, they were known to the police, it would take a singularly
keen-eyed constable to recognize them now.
The thought of the police reminded Osbert of his duty as a citizen.
He went to the telephone and called up the nearest station and was
informed that representatives of the Law would be round immediately to
scoop up the remains. He went back to the dining-room to wait, but its
atmosphere jarred upon him. He felt the need of fresh air: and, going
to the front door, he opened it and stood upon the steps, breathing
deeply.
And, as he stood there, a form loomed through the darkness and a heavy
hand fell on his arm.
"Mr. Mulliner, I think? Mr. Mulliner, if I mistake not? Good evening,
Mr. Mulliner," said the voice of Bashford Braddock. "A word with you,
Mr. Mulliner."
Osbert returned his gaze without flinching. He was conscious of a
strange, almost uncanny calm. The fact was that, everything in this
world being relative, he was regarding Bashford Braddock at this moment
as rather an undersized little pipsqueak, and wondering why he had ever
worried about the man. To one who had come so recently from the society
of Harold and Ernest, Bashford Braddock seemed like one of Singer's
Midgets.
"Ah, Braddock?" said Osbert.
At this moment, with a grinding of brakes, a van stopped before the
door and policemen began to emerge.
"Mr. Mulliner?" asked the sergeant.
Osbert greeted him affably.
"Come in," he said. "Come in. Go straight through. You will find them
in the dining-room. I'm afraid I had to handle them a little roughly.
You had better 'phone for a doctor."
"Bad are they?"
"A little the worse for wear."
"Well, they asked for it," said the sergeant.
"Exactly, sergeant," said Osbert. "_Rem acū tetigisti._"
Bashford Braddock had been standing listening to this exchange of
remarks with a somewhat perplexed air.
"What's all this?" he said.
Osbert came out of his thoughts with a start.
"You still here, my dear chap?"
"I am."
"Want to see me about anything, dear boy? Something on your mind?"
"I just want a quiet five minutes alone with you, Mr. Mulliner."
"Certainly, my dear old fellow," said Osbert. "Certainly, certainly,
certainly. Just wait till these policemen have gone and I will be at
your disposal. We have had a little burglary."
"Burg--," Bashford Braddock was beginning, when there came out onto the
steps a couple of policemen. They were supporting the burglar Harold,
and were followed by others assisting the burglar Ernest. The sergeant,
coming last, shook his head at Osbert a little gravely.
"You ought to be careful, sir," he said. "I don't say these fellows
didn't deserve all you gave them, but you want to watch yourself. One
of these days...."
"Perhaps I did overdo it a little," admitted Osbert. "But I am rather
apt to see red on these occasions. One's fighting blood, you know.
Well, good night, Sergeant, good night. And now," he said, taking
Bashford Braddock's arm in a genial grip, "what was it you wanted to
talk to me about? Come into the house. We shall be all alone there. I
gave the staff a holiday. There won't be a soul except ourselves."
Bashford Braddock released his arm. He seemed embarrassed. His face, as
the light of the street lamp shone upon it, was strangely pale.
"Did you----" He gulped a little. "Was that really you?"
"Really me? Oh, you mean those two fellows. Oh, yes, I found them in my
dining-room, eating my food and drinking my wine as cool as you please,
and naturally I set about them. But the sergeant was quite right. I
_do_ get too rough when I lose my temper. I must remember," he said,
taking out his handkerchief and tying a knot in it, "to cure myself
of that. The fact is, I sometimes don't know my own strength. But you
haven't told me what it is you want to see me about?"
Bashford Braddock swallowed twice in quick succession. He edged past
Osbert to the foot of the steps. He seemed oddly uneasy. His face had
now taken on a greenish tinge.
"Oh, nothing, nothing."
"But, my dear fellow," protested Osbert, "it must have been something
important to bring you round at this time of night."
Bashford Braddock gulped.