"Here, Rodgers! Where are you off to? You're very late, you know--very
late."
The car had stopped with a jerk before a house which was certainly not
our house. A stream of light from the open door flooded the pavement.
On the steps stood Percival, the man I had that row with about the
Square garden. On the pavement, his hand outstretched to open the car
door, was he of the rasping voice.
"This is the owner," said Willoughby, and he laughed quietly to
himself. He always giggles in a crisis. I could have kicked him. But
at the moment I was hurriedly debating whether I could possibly escape
by the door on the far side without being seen. "A small thin man
might have done it," I thought. But, alas! I am neither small nor
thin.
Then the door of the car opened and Willoughby stepped forth into the
limelight, as it were. During the evening the dumb-crambo and such
had rather dishevelled his hair, and a wisp of it now appeared from
beneath the brim of an elderly Homburg hat pushed on to the back
of his head. Under his arm was the banjo. On his face was that
maddeningly good-natured smile of his.
"What are you doing in my car?" demanded the rasping voice.
Willoughby did not answer for a moment, but simply stood there
smiling.
Then he said, "Entirely my fault. Your chauffeur is in no way to
blame. The fact is we couldn't get a taxi, and my brother being rather
delicate----"
"What, another?" barked the rasper.
There was nothing for it. Acutely conscious as I was how emphatically
my countenance, flushed by the exertions of the evening, belied
Willoughby's description of "delicate," it was impossible for me to
remain in the car, and I stepped heavily out.
"It rhymes with _hat_," said Willoughby softly.
* * * * *
As we slunk off down the Square, after as painful a five minutes as
I care to remember, Willoughby kept repeating, "Very unlucky--_very_
unlucky," till we arrived at our own door. Then he began to laugh.
"And what is the joke?" I asked.
"There is no joke," he said--"no joke at all."
"Indeed there is not," I said bitterly. "You must remember that,
unlike yourself, I live here permanently."
"I realise it," said Willoughby. "But do you not think, on
consideration, that that really gives you the advantage? I mean, you
have thus the opportunity of living down the unfortunate accusation of
inebriety that has been brought against us, which I shall not be in a
position to do."