As he sat in his office on the following Thursday morning, the whistle
of the speaking-tube sounded shrilly and interrupted him in the act of
composition. He went angrily to the tube.
"What do you want to interrupt me for," he called, "when you know I'm
busy? What the devil do you want, anyway?"
"I want you, Lukie," said a gentle voice in reply.
"Come up at once," he said. "Awfully sorry. Frightfully glad you've
come. If there's a chance of making a mistake within a hundred miles
of me, I seldom miss it."
Lady Tyburn came radiantly into the room, drawing off her gloves.
"Nasty shock for you, isn't it?" she said. She held out both hands to
him. "Will you ... will you help yourself?"
"Thanks," he said, as he clasped them warmly. "I will have some of
each."
After a minute or two she withdrew her hands and sat down.
"Has that dirty dog given you a partnership yet?" she asked.
"Diggle? Not yet. I ask him from time to time. He always seems too
busy to talk about it at any length. It's wonderful to see you here,
Jona."
"You got my letter?"
"I did. In fact, there was some considerable beano about it at home.
But never mind about that."
"You didn't come to see me, so I was drawn here. Magnet and tin-tack."
He looked at her little white nose. "I see the point," he said.
"Say some more," she said, "I like to hear you talk, Funnyface. Funny
old ears. Funny old cocoanut with, oh, such a lot of milk in it. You
do think a lot of thinky thoughts, don't you. And you put them all
down in those dear little books of yours."
"Not all," said Luke, "I'm limited in my subjects. Jam, you know.
Pickles. Sardines. That hurts--to be limited. I want to be free. Here,
I am imprisoned. I am buried alive. Plunged, still teething, in the
brougham."
"Still teething? I knew you were young at heart. Still, at the age of
thirty-two----"
"I had intended to say that I was plunged, still breathing, in the
tomb. I do get carried away so. Sometimes I form plans. I think I will
leave this business and write my biography. It would be a record, not
of the facts that are, but of the facts as I should like them to be."
"Brilliant," said Jona.
"I don't know," said Luke, wagging his ears, "I sometimes doubt
whether I am sufficiently in touch with real life. I must consult
somebody about it."
"Consult me. No, not now. Show me the first of the little books that
you ever wrote."
He handed her the little lilac-bound copy of "The Romance of a
Raspberry." She put it reverently to her lips, patted it gently, and
laid it down again.
"Do you talk it over with Mabel? Isn't Mabel tremendously proud of
it?"
"She is tremendously proud, but she has great self-restraint." He
recalled the end of the perfect day. "As a general rule," he added,
"when nothing happens to irritate her."
"Does she love you very much?"
"I don't remember her mentioning anything of the kind recently. But
it's you I want to talk about, Jona. Tell me about your life."
"I don't live. I'm marking time. You throw a brick into the
stream----"
"No," said Luke, "not a brick. I sometimes play boats."
"I was going to say," Jona continued, "that the brick remains
motionless while the stream goes past it."
"But cannot we apply the principle of relativity here?" he asked. "May
it not be that the stream stands still while the brick goes past it?
It would appear so to the brick."
"That's one of your dinky, thinky thoughts, isn't it?"
A sound of uproar, of crashes and loud voices, came up from the street
below.
"I wonder what that is?" said Luke.
"It's Bill, probably. He said he'd call for me." She crossed over to
the window and looked out. "Yes, that's Bill. Driving the team of
zebras he got from Doom Dagshaw. The horses don't seem to like it.
There's a cart and horse just gone in at that draper's window. Quite a
number of horses seem to have fallen down on the pavement. There's a
policeman with a note-book. He seems to be asking Bill questions. And
Bill's making him laugh. He manages those zebras perfectly. He does
everything well."
Luke had joined her at the window. "Who's the lady sitting beside
him?" he asked.
"One of his harem. Staying with us. Don't pity me. I deserve nothing.
I made a mistake once. Don't ask me what. Don't come down with me.
Good-bye, Lukie, dear."
Luke watched her as she drove off. And then Mr. Diggle entered without
knocking.
"Who's your lady friend?" said Diggle, snappishly. "I mean the one
that's just gone off in the circus. Simply unendurable. The whole
street outside my business premises in confusion. I opened my window
to look out, and that man pointed me out with his whip and said to the
girl beside him: 'That's our Mr. Diggle. If you like our chutney, try
our cheddar.' I shall go down and speak to the policeman at once. This
sort of thing must be stopped. Come, come, Sharper, give me the name,
please."
"The lady who called to see me," said Luke, "was Lady Tyburn. It was
her husband who was driving the zebras."
"That makes a difference. Our spirited young aristocracy! I understand
that the firm's productions are used exclusively up at Gallows. Glad
you mentioned the name, Sharper."
"And can I have that partnership now?" asked Luke.
"Not immediately. Get on with your work."
* * * * *
But it was impossible to work with the image of Jona still in his
mind. He was puzzled. Grasping one ear in each hand he tried to think
it out. What had she meant by "help yourself," and "the magnet and the
tin-tack?" Why had she kissed "The Romance of the Raspberry?" What did
she mean by "I made a mistake?" It almost looked as if ...
No, it could not be that.
Still, really you know, when you came to think about it ...
He walked over to the window once more. In the street below the
policeman was instructing a group of drivers, the draper, and other
persons concerned, that all applications for compensation should be
sent in to Lord Tyburn, and that they would be dealt with strictly in
rotation.