IN WHICH THE CONSUL AND MRS. SCARSDALE EMULATE THE KING OF FRANCE AND
TWENTY THOUSAND OF HIS COMPATRIOTS
Another day was dawning, a day that was destined to be most arduous,
eventful, and important in the lives of all those with whom this
narrative has to deal. Yet, at this hour in the morning, Carrington,
sitting shivering on his bedside; Lady Melton, listening in her chamber
for the departing footsteps of the faithful Bright; Aunt Eliza, drinking
an early cup of coffee in preparation for a long day's work; the Consul
and Mrs. Scarsdale, journeying to Southampton; Slippery Dick, pouncing
on the sometime owner of elephants at a way-side alehouse; Scarsdale,
pacing his prison cell; Mrs. Allingford, waiting, 'twixt hope and fear,
for news of her husband; and the elephant, shrieking in his
box-stall--these, one and all, entered regretfully upon this day
fraught with so many complications.
Carrington had decided, as he wended his way home to the hotel after his
somewhat startling encounter with the Consul's unregenerate brother,
that he was in no wise bound to report the matter to the authorities.
His mission was to extricate Mr. Scarsdale from unjust imprisonment, not
to incriminate any one else; and he foresaw that any attempt on his part
to interfere, as an avenger of justice, might entail subsequent
attendance at the local police court whenever the true culprit fell into
the hands of the law.
When Jack had thus determined on his course of action, he resigned
himself peacefully to slumber, of which he stood much in need; but no
sooner, apparently, had his head touched the pillow than he was awakened
by a knocking at his chamber door. In reply to his sleepy inquiries, he
was informed that Mrs. Allingford was up and in the ladies'
drawing-room, and would much appreciate it if she could see him as soon
as possible.
Carrington replied that he would be happy to wait on her in a few
minutes, as soon as he was dressed, in fact, and cursed himself heartily
for having been fool enough to be any one's best man. Half-past six! It
was inhuman to call him up at such a time. He had not had three hours'
sleep. He wished himself at Melton Court more than ever. There, at
least, they rose at decent hours.
As he entered the hotel drawing-room, a few minutes later, in a somewhat
calmer frame of mind, due to a bath and a cup of coffee, Mrs. Allingford
rose to meet him, took both his hands in hers, and, holding them
tightly, stood for a moment with her upturned eyes looking fixedly into
his. He would never have known her for the happy bride of two short days
ago; she seemed more like a widow, years older, and with all the joy of
her youth crushed out by trouble.
"Words cannot express what your coming means to me. It is the kindest
thing you've ever done," she said simply; but her tone and manner told
him of her gratitude and relief.
"It is very little to do," he replied, feeling, all at once, that he had
been a brute not to have seen her the night before.
"My husband! Oh, tell me about my husband!" she exclaimed, dropping all
restraint.
"What a child she was, in spite of her wedding-ring!" he thought; but he
felt very sorry for her, and answered gently:
"I blame myself for not telling you sooner. He is safe and well.'
"Thank God!" she murmured.
"And at present at Melton Court, the country place of Lady Melton, Mr.
Scarsdale's great-aunt." And then he told her such of her husband's
adventures as he knew.
"When is the first train to Salisbury?" she cried, interrupting the
recital.
"I dare say there is an early morning train," he returned; "but I should
suggest your waiting for the one at nine-thirty, as then Mr. Scarsdale
can accompany you."
"But he is in prison."
"Yes, I know; but he won't be very long."
"You are sure they will release him?"
"There's not a doubt of it. I have arranged all that."
"Now tell me more about my husband, everything you know. Poor Bob! if he
has suffered as I have, he must indeed be wretched."
Jack was morally sure that the Consul had done nothing of the kind, but
he forbore to say so. Not that he doubted for a moment that Allingford
loved his wife ardently; but he knew him to be a somewhat easy-going
personage, who, when he could not have things as he wanted them,
resigned himself to making the best of things as they were. From what he
knew of Mrs. Scarsdale, moreover, he thought it safe to conclude that
she had resigned herself to the exigencies of the case, and that both of
them looked on the whole affair as a practical joke played upon them by
Fate, of which they could clearly perceive the humorous side. He
therefore turned the conversation by recounting all he knew, even to the
minutest circumstance, of her husband's adventures; and she, in her
turn, poured into his ear her tale of woe in Winchester.
"I can't understand," he said, at the conclusion of her narrative, "why
Allingford did not receive the telegram you sent to Basingstoke
yesterday."
"As I think I told you," she replied, "that strange person, Faro
Charlie, offered to send it for me, and as I had no change I gave him a
five-pound note."
"Oh!" said Carrington, "perhaps that solves the mystery. Did your friend
bring you back the change?"
"N--o," admitted Mrs. Allingford; "that is, not yet."
"I'm afraid you will never hear from your five-pound note, and that
Allingford never received his telegram from Winchester," commented
Carrington; "but it has disposed of Faro Charlie as a witness, and
perhaps that was worth the money."
"Do you really think he meant to take it?" she asked in a shocked tone.
"I'm sure of it," he replied, "and time will prove the correctness of
my theory." And time did.
They breakfasted together, and, at Carrington's suggestion, all the
baggage was sent to the station, in order that they might have every
chance of making the train. Jack's brother joined them about half-past
eight, and the three proceeded to the court, where a few words from that
officer to the magistrate, with whom he was personally acquainted, were
sufficient to bring Scarsdale's case first on the docket.
The landlord of the Lion's Head appeared, a mass of bandages, and
groaning dolefully to excite the sympathy of the court; but he testified
without hesitation that the prisoner, though somewhat resembling Richard
Allingford, was not he; and it did not need Carrington's identification
to make Scarsdale a free man. Then there were mutual congratulations,
and a hurried drive to the station, where they just succeeded in
catching the train; and, almost before he knew it, Jack was standing
alone upon the platform, while his two friends were speeding towards
the goal of all their hopes, _viâ_ Southampton and Salisbury.
* * * * *
"I suppose," said Mrs. Scarsdale to the Consul, as their train drew out
of Salisbury in the first flush of the sunrise on the morning which saw
Mr. Scarsdale's liberation from durance vile--"I suppose you realise
that you have exiled me from the home of my ancestors."
"How so?" asked the Consul.
"Why, you don't imagine that I shall ever dare to show my face at Melton
Court again. Just picture to yourself her ladyship and your elephant!
She will never forgive us, and will cut poor Harold off with a
shilling."
"That won't hurt him much, from all I've heard of her ladyship's
finances," he replied.
"I think," she resumed, "that I ought to be very angry with you; but I
can't help laughing, it is so absurd. A bull in a china-shop would be
tame compared with an elephant at Melton Court. What do you think she
will do with the beast?"
"Pasture it on the front lawn to keep away objectionable relatives,"
retorted the Consul. "But, seriously speaking, have you any definite
plan of campaign?"
"Certainly not. What do you suppose I carry you round for, if it is not
to plan campaigns?"
"Which you generally alter. You will please remember that the visit to
Melton Court was entirely owing to you."
"Quite, and I shall probably upset this one; but proceed."
"Well, in the first place, as soon as we reach Southampton I think we
had better have a good breakfast."
"That is no news. You are a man; therefore you eat. Go on."
"Do you object?"
"Not at all. I expected it; I'll even eat with you."
"Well said. After this necessary duty, I propose to go to the station
and thoroughly investigate the matter of the arrival and departure of
my wife and your husband."
"If they were at Basingstoke we should have heard from them before
this," she said; "and even if they were not, they should have
telegraphed."
"Very probably they did," he replied; "but, as you ought to know, there
is nothing more obliging and more generally dense than an English minor
official. I dare say that the key to the whole mystery is at this moment
reposing, neatly done up in red tape, at the office of that disgusting
little junction. But here we are at Southampton. Now for breakfast; and
then the American Sherlock Holmes will sift this matter to the bottom."
And the Consul, in excellent spirits, assisted her to alight.
Indeed, now that the elephant had been left behind, he felt that,
actually as well as metaphorically, a great weight had been lifted from
his shoulders.
"Evidently," remarked Allingford, as they were finishing a breakfast in
one of the cosy principal hotels--"evidently the loss of your husband
has not included the loss of your appetite."
"Of course it hasn't," replied Mrs. Scarsdale. "Why shouldn't I eat a
good breakfast? I have no use for conventions which make one do
disagreeable things just because one happens to feel miserable."
"Do you feel very miserable? I thought you seemed rather cheerful on the
whole," he commented.
"Well, you are not to think anything so unpleasant or personal. I'm
utterly wretched; and if you don't believe it I won't eat a mouthful."
"I'm sure," he returned, "that your husband would be much put out if he
knew you contemplated doing anything so foolish."
"Do you know," she said, "that I'm beginning to have serious doubts that
I ever had a husband? Do you think he's a myth, and that you and I will
have to go through life together in an endless pursuit of what doesn't
exist?"
"Good Lord, I hope not!" he exclaimed.
"That is very uncomplimentary to me," she retorted.
"In the face of that remark," he replied, pushing back his chair, "I am
silent."
"Do you know," said his companion after a moment, as she folded her
napkin, "that the keen sense of humour with which we Americans are
endowed saves a large percentage of us from going mad or committing
suicide?"
"Are you thinking of doing either?" he asked anxiously.
"I am thinking," she replied, "that we have had two exceedingly amusing
days, and I am almost sorry they are over."
"Don't you want to find your husband?" he exclaimed.
"Of course I do; but it has been a sort of breathing-space before
settling down to the seriousness of married life, and that elephant
episode was funny. I think it was worth two days of any husband; don't
you?"
"I don't know," returned the Consul, somewhat ruefully. "I'd just as
lief that Scarsdale had had the beast."
"Oh, I wouldn't!" she cried. "He would have spoiled all the fun. He'd
have done some stupid, rational thing. Donated it to the 'Zoo' in
London, I should think; wasted the elephant, in fact. It took the spirit
of American humour to play your colossal, practical joke. I wonder if it
has arrived at the Court yet. I can fancy it sticking its head, trunk
and all, through the great window in Lady Melton's dining-room."
"She called me a consular person," remarked that official stiffly.
"Hence the elephant," laughed his fair companion. "Cause and effect.
But, joking apart, there is a pitiful side to our adventure. When I
think of those two matter-of-fact, serious British things, your better
half and my--my husband, and of what a miserable time they have been
having, unrelieved by any spark of humour, it almost makes me cry."
"Hold on!" cried Allingford, "You are just as bad as your great-aunt.
She calls me a consular person, and you call my wife a British thing! I
wish I had another elephant."
"I beg your pardon, I do really," she replied. "I classed my husband in
the same category. But don't you agree with me that it's sad? I'm sure
your poor wife has cried her eyes out; and as for my husband, I doubt if
he's eaten anything, and I'm certain he's worn his most unbecoming
clothes."
"You are wrong there," interrupted Allingford; "he packed all the worst
specimens, and I rescued them at Salisbury. I tried them on yesterday,
and there wasn't a suit I'd have had the face to wear in public."
"There, run along and turn the station upside down; you've talked
enough," she said, laughing, and drove him playfully out of the room.
It was about half-past nine that the Consul meditatively mopped his
head, as he reached the top step of the hotel porch. He was heated by
his exertions, but exceedingly complacent. He had interviewed sixteen
porters, five guards, the station agent, three char-women, four
policemen, and the barmaid--the latter twice, once on business and once
on pleasure; and he had discovered from the thirtieth individual, and
after twenty-nine failures and a drink, the simple fact that those he
sought had gone to Winchester. He did not think he could have faced Mrs.
Scarsdale if he had failed. As it was, he returned triumphant, and, as
he approached their private parlour, he mentally pictured in advance the
scene which would await him: her radiant smile, her voluble expression
of thanks, their joyful journey to Winchester; in short, success. He
pushed open the door, and this is what really happened: an angry woman
with a flushed, tear-stained face rushed across the room, shoved a
newspaper at him, and cried:
"You brute!"
The Consul dropped into the nearest chair. He looked at the infuriated
Mrs. Scarsdale, he looked at the crumpled newspaper, he heard the last
echo of that opprobrious monosyllable, and he said:
"Well I'm jiggered!"
Then, recollecting his news, he continued:
"Oh, I forgot. I've found out where they have gone; it's Winchester."
"Is that all you've got to tell me?" she cried. "All, in the face of
this?" And she again shoved the newspaper towards him. He looked to
where her finger pointed. He was hopelessly bewildered, and wondered if
her native humour had inopportunely failed her and she had gone mad.
"Read!" she commanded.
His wandering eye followed the direction of her finger, and he read
slowly, with open mouth, a short account of the arrest and partial trial
at Winchester of one Richard Allingford, who claimed to be Harold
Scarsdale.
"Tell me," she thundered, "is that my husband?"
"Well," he said, slowly, "I guess it is," and he re-read the last
sentence of the paragraph in the newspaper:
"_The prisoner insisted that he was Harold Scarsdale, and could
prove his identity. He was accompanied by a woman who claimed to be
Mrs. Robert Allingford, wife of the well-known United States Consul
at Christchurch. The prisoner was remanded till this morning._"
"Have you a brother?"
"Yes."
"Has he ever been arrested?"
"Arrested! Why, I've spent most of my time for the past twenty years in
bailing him out."
"But why has my husband taken his name?" she demanded.
"That is a matter you'll have to settle with Scarsdale; and if you look
as you do now, I'm real sorry for him," he replied.
"You don't care a bit!" she cried.
"Oh, yes I do; but I want you to see it from its humorous side," he
answered.
At this remark Mrs. Scarsdale burst into a flood of tears, and
Allingford gave a sigh of relief, and, strolling to the window, was soon
lost in admiration of the view.
Suddenly a voice said, in the sweetness of its accustomed tones:
"Why were you so pleased when I began to cry?" And Mrs. Scarsdale, calm
and composed, stood beside him.
"Hard storm is a good thing to clear the atmosphere after a
thunder-shower," replied the Consul laconically.
"I was real mad with you," she admitted.
"Great Scott! don't you suppose I knew that?" he cried.
They both laughed, and peace was restored.
"Do you really think it is poor Harold?"
"I suppose he doesn't get called St. Hubart when he's in 'quod'?"
"Be sensible and answer my question. Is it my husband or your brother
who is on trial at Winchester?"
"I don't know," he replied.
"What are you going to do about it?" she asked.
"Go and see."
"When is the next train?"
The Consul pulled out his watch.
"In twelve and a half minutes," he said. "I've paid the hotel bill.
Here, hold on! You turn to the left for the elevator!" But Mrs.
Scarsdale was half-way downstairs on her way to the station.
An hour later, as the Consul and his fair companion emerged at the
station at Winchester, the first person they saw was Carrington.
"We've been found at last!" cried the Consul, advancing towards Jack
with outstretched hand, exclaiming: "Well, Columbus Carrington, if ever
I get lost again, I'll telegraph you first thing."
In a minute questions and answers were flying between them. Where had
they been? Where had they come from? Why was Carrington here? Why had
Scarsdale been arrested?
Jack bore up manfully, answering as best he could.
"Perhaps you can tell me the whereabouts of my wife and this lady's
husband?" said the Consul.
"They have been staying here," he replied, "but they have gone."
"Gone!" cried Allingford in blank amazement. "Gone! Where? When?"
"Why, to Salisbury," replied Jack. "I sent them over there early this
morning."
"You did, did you?" spluttered the Consul. "What right had you to send
them anywhere?"
"Why, to join you at Lady Diana's."
"Join us!" screamed Allingford. "Why, we left Melton Court at half-past
four this morning, and have been on the road ever since trying to join
them."
"It seems to be a typical example of cross-purposes," replied
Carrington.
"It's pure cussedness!" said the Consul.
"But I thought my husband was--in prison," chimed in Mrs. Scarsdale;
"the paper said so."
"Merely a case of mistaken identity," Jack hastened to assure her. "I
had him set free in no time. And that reminds me: I ran across your
brother here last evening, Allingford. It is he who has caused all the
trouble. Frankly, I am almost sorry I did not give him over to the
police."
"I wish you had," replied the Consul; "I wouldn't have bailed him out
till my honeymoon was over. Where is he now?"
"I'm inclined to believe," replied Carrington, "that he has gone to
Melton Court in search of you, in company with a man who talked some
nonsense about your having stolen an elephant from him."
Allingford and Mrs. Scarsdale both began to laugh.
"I don't see anything funny about that," said Jack.
"Oh, don't you?" returned the Consul. "Well, you would if you knew the
rest of the story." And in a few brief words he explained about the
elephant's arrival and their subsequent flight.
"Heavens, man!" cried Carrington, "you don't seem to realise what you
have let Scarsdale and your wife in for!"
"Great Scott!" exclaimed the Consul, "I never thought of that. Why, I
reckon it's rampaging all over the place by this time, and the old lady
must be in a perfect fury. When's the next train back? We can't get
there too quickly."
"One goes in five minutes," said Jack.
"If I'd ever suspected," gasped Mrs. Scarsdale to Allingford as they
rushed down the platform, "that you were laying such a trap for my poor
husband----"
"I'm sure I didn't do it on purpose," he replied; "but if they happen to
meet the catawampus after she's met the elephant, they'll be in for a
pretty hot time."
"Your brother was bad enough," she groaned as the train pulled out; "but
as for your elephant----! It's worse than being arrested!"