1
"We shall dine in the kitchen," said Mabel. "The dining-room and
drawing-room are finished, but I am keeping them locked up until the
workmen are out of the house, and all the mess is cleared away."
"You are an excellent housekeeper," said Luke. "Won't it be jolly to
dine in the kitchen with Dot and Dash?"
"Ellen will sit in the garden while we are at dinner. Kate will wait
on us as usual. I am sorry to say that a workman spilt a pail of
whitewash in your room. Most of it went over your books. After dinner
we will sit in the den."
"Mabel," said Luke, "when I told you of the suffering that would
happen to me in consequence of Effie having the illegitimate child,
which she never did, you said that it was all impossible. Part of it
has come true. They don't want me to go to the business any more, and
they've said so."
"Have they?" said Mabel. "Of course I knew they would. I've been
expecting it for some time past. You see, you're not fitted for
business. I don't know that you're particularly fitted for anything.
Well, when you talked to me about that Effie nonsense, I told you I'd
arrange a little martyrdom for you if I could. Haven't I done it?"
"You have. In the interest of my sanity----"
"In the interests of your what?"
"In the interests of my sanity I shall go to Brighton for the
week-end."
"Do," said Mabel. "You're terribly in the way here. It's about the
first sensible idea you've had for this last year."
By half-past ten next morning he was on the platform at Victoria
station. Would Jona be there?
Apparently not. He caught a distant glimpse of Lord Tyburn, but it was
not with him that he was proposing to elope. Besides, Tyburn was
accompanied by a somewhat highly painted and decorated young lady.
Luke waited till the last moment, and waited in vain. He stepped into
the train just as it was moving off.
2
At this point we will ask our Mr. Alfred Jingle to oblige again.
"Tell you what," he said to his artist friend. "I was wrong about
Sharper again. I thought he'd reached the limit of human mess and
martyrdom. He hadn't. He'd not got within a street of it. He's there
now. Right up to the limit and leaning over the edge.
"Down at Brighton this week-end with my old missus. Sitting out on
the pier. Sunday morning. Listening to the band. Overture to 'William
Tell.' Always is. Whenever I strike a band, it's 'William Tell' or
'Zampa.' Every time.
"Suddenly the missus says to me, 'Who's that old chap over there with
a face like a turnip?'
"I looked up. It was Luke Sharper. Looking ghastly. His hair was grey.
His face was grey. Even his flannel trousers were grey. All grey and
worn. I don't mean the trousers particularly. General effect, you
know. Ears drooping down with no life or motion in them. I went up to
him and asked him what brought him down to Brighton.
"'Go away,' he said. 'I'm a leper. I'm an outcast. I'm a pariah dog.
Go before I bring misery on you.'
"I told him I'd chance it, and asked him again what he was doing at
Brighton.
"'I've eloped,' he said.
"'With whom?' I asked.
"'Nobody. She never turned up. That's not my fault. In the sight of
Heaven we are all equal, and I'm an eloper. I'm a faithless hound.
That's not all, Jingle. They've thrown me out of the business. And
that's not all. I bought four packets of oxalic acid. I've put them
down where Mabel is bound to see them. There's one on her pillow, one
on the clock, one on the piano, and one on the mantelpiece. You see?
I'm a murderer. Mabel will take the hint, and will commit suicide.
That will upset Dot and Dash, and they will commit suicide too. I
only hope the man who spilt whitewash over my bookcase will commit
suicide as well. Don't come and see me in the condemned cell. I don't
want to see anybody any more. That's why I'm sitting on Brighton pier
on a warm Sunday morning.'
"'You've got this wrong, Sharper,' I said. 'I know your wife. She
won't commit suicide because you've gone. She possibly might have done
it if you had stopped. So your maids won't be upset, and they won't
commit suicide either. And the painter's man who spilt the whitewash
over your books will be enjoying the joke over his Sunday dinner.
You're no good at the leper-and-pariah business. Come over and be
introduced to my missus.'
"'What you say might be true if I were a real man, but I have horrible
doubts. I don't feel like a real man.'
"'Come off it,' I said. 'What do you feel like, then?'
"'I feel like a lot of tripe out of some damn-silly book.'
"Well, I took him over to the missus, and she got on the buzz. She's
an energetic talkist. He never got time to say he was a leper once.
Then some pals of hers came up to talk to her, and he and I escaped. I
asked him what he was going to do. He said he was going back to
Halfpenny Hole directly, in order to save the coroner's officer the
trouble of fetching him. Then he asked me to have a drink. We had
three each. He rushed off to the station, and left me to pay. A man in
that state is not fit to be alone. And it's not too safe for anybody
who happens to be with him. I let him go."
3
It was half-past five when Luke got back to Jawbones again. He rang
the bell. As the door was not opened, he rang again.
Then from the garden behind the house he heard the sound of voices and
laughter. He recognized the laugh. It was Dot's. It was a full-bodied,
fruity laugh. Luke walked round the house and into the garden to see
what was happening.
On the lawn sat Dot, Dash, and the first and second footmen from
Gallows. A table showed that tea, including bottled beer, had been
served with some profusion. But the banquet was over and all four
reclined in deck-chairs, smoking cigarettes.
Luke stared at them blankly. "Afraid I'm rather interrupting," he
stammered.
"Well, old bean," said Dot. "You do come as a bit of a surprise. We'd
not expected you before Tuesday. But our two gentlemen friends--Albert
and Hector--I think you've met them--have to be back at their job at
six. So we shan't keep you long. The kitchen door's open if you care
to slip into the house and wait."
Luke's powerful mind made a rapid deduction. This could never have
happened if Mabel had not been powerless to prevent it. So Mabel must
have ... Yes, the oxalic acid.
"Can you tell me," he said in sepulchral tones, "where I shall find
the body of my poor wife?"
"Afraid I can't," said Dot. Her laughter jarred on him.
"Let us," he said, "be reverent. When did she die?"
Here Dash, under the pink parasol, broke in, "But she's alive. And
I'll bet she's a good deal livelier than she's been for years past. I
helped her pack, and it was some trousseau. The old girl's done a
bunk. See? Skipped it with a gentleman friend of hers."
"You might have mentioned that before," said Luke, aggrieved. "I quite
thought that something was the matter."
"Well, she's left a letter for you in your almost-silver cigarette
case. You'll find it in the bath-room, balanced on the hot-water tap.
You run along and read it. You're the least little bit in the way at
this tea party."
4
Seated on the edge of the bath, Luke read as follows:
"You could always see every point of view except one, and that was
your wife's.
"Once or twice the sting of your jelly-fish of a conscience made you
try to be nice to me. There are words and acts from a man to a woman
which may be lovely to the woman if they come spontaneously and
naturally. If they are produced as by a force-pump, they are an
insult. If you tried to hide the pump, it was a poor effort.
"When you took up with that Tyburn minx, I thought that you had
realized the situation, that you saw that I found life with you
detestable and intolerable, and that you meant to give me a chance to
divorce you. I employed a private detective with what I had saved out
of the house-money, and had you watched. The detective reported that
there was nothing good enough--or bad enough----for the High Court,
and that the woman seemed to be doing most of the work.
"So as the mixture of cowardice and selfishness which you call your
conscience would not let you give me a chance to divorce you, I
determined to make you divorce me. The first thing to do was to get
you out of the way. It is so trying and undignified to elope if a
husband is looking on, and possibly interfering. So I adopted a system
of intensive spring-cleaning. I don't think I left out anything which
could inconvenience and annoy you. It went on and on. No house has
been spring-cleaned like this since the world began. I fancy it was
the whitewash over your books that finally shunted you. You left in
the early morning. I packed at leisure and left in the evening, taking
with me a gentleman who financed that great success, Doom Dagshaw's
Mammoth Circus.
"As he is not in the book, I may mention that he is a Mr. Nathan
Samuel. But no matter. A nose by any other name would smell as
efficiently. He is a true Christian with no fault except his love for
me.
"The necessary particulars will be sent to your solicitors, and I hope
you will then get busy.
"Ta-ta, old crock. Yours, Mabel.
"P.S.--You shouldn't leave oxalic acid about like that. Don't you know
it's a poison? I've hidden it underneath your dress-shirts, in case of
accidents."
Luke put the letter down. There was a step outside the door and Dot
entered.
"Thought I should find you here," said Dot. "Everything all right?"
"Couldn't be better. But why did she leave the letter on the hot-water
tap?"
"Oh, that was just a little joke of hers. She said you always got into
any hot water that might be going about, and so you'd be sure to find
it there."
"Do you see what this means, Dot? It means that in future we can play
at boats without any fear of interruption."
"M'yes," said Dot. "It's not the very devil of a game, is it? Been
over the house yet? I must say it does look nice, now all the cleaning
and decorating's finished. Albert and Hector both noticed it."
"Yes, very nice. I suppose you and Dash would like to be getting
dinner for me."
"That's what we're panting after. But it can't be done, because
there's nothing to eat. At least, there's nothing for you. Besides,
after this afternoon we are both emotionally worn-out. And that's not
all. Albert and Hector brought us a bit of news from Gallows. Just you
take my tip and ask no questions. You take the train into Dilborough
and dine at the 'Crown.' You might--I don't say you will, but you
might--get a bit of a surprise. If you hurry you'll catch the 7.5."
Luke thrust his wife's letter into his pocket, and hurried.
5
"No," said the sad-eyed waiter, in reply to Luke's enquiry. "No, we do
not serve the dinner on Sunday night. In Dilborough Sunday night,
there is what you call, nothing doing. You can have a nice chop."
"I hate chops," said Luke moodily. "All right, get me a chop."
"The lady who stay here, she have a chop too. She also say she hate
chops. You have to wait a little time perhaps, because the chef is out
Sunday evening. You wait in the drawing-room. It is very nice. Very
comfortable. There is a newspaper of last Friday evening."
Luke submitted and entered the fly-haunted drawing-room. He sat down
with his head in his hands. Mabel's letter had been characteristically
unlike her. Her letters were never in the least bit like herself. That
was perhaps their only attraction. It was only in the postscript that
he seemed actually to hear her speak.
"Poor Nathan Samuel!" he said to himself. "Poor Moses Nathan Modecai
Samuel!"
The door opened and Jona came in, clad in a betrayed-heroine tea-gown.
She looked beautiful but tragic.
"Jona," he cried, springing to his feet.
She shrank back, covering her face with her hands.
"Don't speak to me," she said. "Don't come near me. I'm a leper, a
pariah, and an outcast."
"Oh, look here, hang it all, you can't, you know. That's mine. If
there's any lepering to be done, I do that. Outcast? How do you mean
outcast?"
"Haven't you heard?" she said.
"No," said Luke. "Come and sit on my knee, and tell me all your
troubles."
"I oughtn't," she said, but she did.
"You didn't turn up at Victoria yesterday. Couldn't you leave your
husband?"
"I couldn't," she said. "I couldn't, because I've not got a husband.
And have never had a husband. One of Bill's previous wives started to
make a fuss, and he made a clean breast of it to me. He'd married in
two different names before he married me, and both wives are still
living. He went to Brighton on Saturday to marry one more. Because he
wants to get his picture, as the peer convicted of trigamy, on the
back page of the '_Daily Mail_,' with the fourth wife inset. So you
see what has happened. It was my fault, but that's how I come to be
in the pariah class. Can you bear me any longer?"
"Yes," said Luke, "you're not heavy."
And then the sad-eyed waiter came in without knocking, and they broke
away.
"I beg pardon," said the waiter. "Perhaps I interrupt a little. I come
to say the chops is ready. Shall I put the two places close together?"
"Very close together," said Luke.
6
They entered the dining-room.
"You needn't remain," said Luke to the waiter. "We'll help ourselves."
"Ver' good," said the waiter. "I understand. I am since three years of
experience in the week-end business. I come when you ring--not
before."
Luke and Jona talked together earnestly for an hour. Then they
remembered they had been intending to dine. Luke removed the cover
from the dish and looked at two large melancholy chops, frozen hard.
"Can we?" said Luke.
"Not in this life," said Jona. "Get it removed."
Luke produced a visiting-card, and wrote on the back of it: "A Present
for a Good Dog. From Jona and Lukie!" He put the card in the dish and
replaced the cover. Then he investigated the wine list, rang the bell,
and ordered champagne and dry biscuits to be put in the drawing-room.
(The reader is requested to look out. Once more the numbers of the
section will be used as a part of the sections. The price of paper is
still very high.)
"Just imagine," said Luke. "Only this morning I was convinced that
life was hell. Absolute hell."
"And now?" asked Jona, shyly.
"Now I know that it's
7,"
he said, and kissed her.
Luke walked back. It was some time in the small hours that he entered
his house burglariously by forcing open the window of a room that had
once been called a den.
As he sat at breakfast the next morning, Dot said: "Hope they gave you
a good dinner at the 'Crown' last night."
"I don't know," he said. "I don't really remember what we
8."
"All love and honey, what?" suggested Dot.
"Dot," said Luke, "don't be asi--
9."
"Oh, that's all right," said Dot "You don't need to pay any at--
10
tion to my chaff."
EPILOGUE
Luke sold Jawbones for a much higher price than he had expected.
"You see," the agent explained, "the place is in such a perfect
condition. Everything up to the mark. Absolutely spotless."
"Yes," said Luke. "Mrs. Sharper was an excellent housekeeper. I've
always said so."
Luke had intended to pay Dot and Dash board-wages until he was free to
marry Jona, and then to take them into his service again. But this was
not to be.
"Sorry," said Dot, "but it won't do. Of course we wish you every
happiness, and no doubt in time you'll get used to not suffering so
much, and not being misunderstood so frequent. But me and Dash has
been brought up respectable, and respectable we shall remain. I've no
doubt your good lady thought it was all right, and went to church with
him, and signed the book and all that. But facts are facts, and the
fact is that for years and years she was living the life of open sin
with that Lord Tyburn. No, we couldn't stick it. Besides, I'm going to
marry Hector to take entire charge of a small flat, one in family, no
children or washing, every Sunday, and frequent outings. And my
sister's doing the same with Albert. All the same, here's luck."
Our friend, Mr. Alfred Jingle, solicitor, arranged everything
splendidly. He prevented Luke from inserting, in a moment of
enthusiasm, an advertisement under the Fashionable Intelligence in the
daily press that a divorce had been arranged and would shortly take
place, between Luke Sharper, Esq., formerly of Jawbones, Halfpenny
Hole, and Mabel, his wife. The case was undefended, and the day after
the decree was made absolute Luke married Jona.
Nor did Mr. Alfred Jingle forget, when he made out his bill of costs,
to include in his out-of-pocket expenses, the cost of certain
luncheons and drinks which Mr. Sharper would, no doubt, have defrayed
had he not at that time been in a condition of absent-mindedness
induced by martyrdom.
Not only did Lord Tyburn succeed in getting his photograph on to the
back page of the "_Daily Mail_." There was also another photograph of
the four ladies whom he had married, reading from left to right. He
did everything well.
THE END
Transcriber's Notes:
1. This book is a parody on the biographies of it's times; as a result,
very few changes have been made, other than obvious typesetter errors.
2. On the title page, there were two lines of words that were typeset
with "strikethroughs"; these have been indicated by the addition of
"=" before and after the lines.