swung himself up onto the table, and sat staring into the darkness
for a minute, his head cocked on one side, swinging his long legs
over its edge. “Look here, suppose we stop entertaining each other
and bag a few of the blood-curdling facts. What do you say to
diving in again at the beginning of all the small talk, and telling
me just exactly what you’re doing trotting into my humble dwelling
and turning it into a cross between a madhouse and a cemetery?
The woman’s touch, so long lacking, what? Do stop crying; nothing
in the whole world’s worth crying about like that--not even that
infernal perfume!”
“I cry becaus’ vairy greatly I am afraid,” she explained gently.
“An’ vairy greatly I am sorry that I bring to your poor abode such
pain an’ grief an’ danger. I make you all excuse; I did not know
wair else to go--no, truly, truly I did not know----”
“But why in the name of grief didn’t you go to the boat?”
“Honable Tonee, eet was gone, eet was gone!”
“Oh, rot! The boat was here until a few minutes ago. Look here, my
dear child, if you’re trying any of your little tricks on me, I
can save you any amount of time and trouble by tipping you off to
the fact that you’re heading straight for a wash-out. This whole
performance looks most frightfully dodgy and I’m beginning to be
pretty fairly fed up. From brother Manuelo on----”
The limp bundle shivering quietly beneath his fingers shivered more
deeply still, and sighed.
“About Manuelo, that was a lie.”
“Well, it’s gratifying to have my worst suspicions confirmed,
naturally! But of all the confounded cheek----”
“Eet was jus’ a lie that Manuelo he was my brothair. Manuelo, he
ees the belove’ of my heart.”
“The devil he is!” The Honourable Tony’s voice was edged with mild
interest. “And may I ask why the brotherly transformation?”
“What ees that?”
“Why the lie, Daisy?”
“Because men, too well do I know them. Ah, ah, too well! Eef I say
to Meestair Ledyar’, to that black devil out from hell, to your own
self, Honable Tonee, that eet ees tryin’ to save the belove’ of my
heart that I go crezzy in my haid and die two thousan’ death from
terror, you think they lissen to me then? You think they help me
then? Well, me, I think not.”
“And me, I think not, too!” agreed the Honourable Tony promptly.
“Quite a student of human nature, in your quiet way, aren’t you,
Daisy? I say, do let’s have some light on this! I don’t think that
Manuelo would fancy it for a moment if he knew that we were all
huddled up here in the pitch-black whispering things at each other.”
“Manuelo, one thousan’ time he have tell me eef he fin’ me with a
man alone, he cut the heart out from our body.”
“Perhaps it’s all for the best that he’s going to remain in the
tin mines,” suggested the Honourable Tony philosophically. “No
cloud without a silver lining, what? However, I’m going to humour
Manuelo to the extent of seeing that we have all the light that a
large lamp can cast over what I trust is going to prove a brief
interview. Do stop whimpering, there’s a good child!”
“Honable Tonee, thees lamp you mus’ not light. See, no longer I
cry--no longer I make one soun’--only thees lamp you mus’ not
light. No, wait, you do not onnerstan’----”
“You’re putting it conservatively, Daisy!”
“Wait, then, I tell you--all I make clear--but no light. Eef there
is a light, he know you are here; eef he know you are here, he know
that I, too, am here--an’ eef he know I, too, am here, then we die.
That ees clear now?”
“Well, frankly, it still leaves a bit to be desired. One or two
minor gaps--who is it that’s going to slay us when he comes to the
conclusion that we’re both here, Daisy? Manuelo?”
“No, no, no--Manuelo, I tell you, he dyin’ in those tin mines.”
“Oh--well, then, candidly, you have me. If it isn’t Manuelo, my
mind is a perfect blank as to who would profit by doing away with
us. Unless--you haven’t misled me about Mr. Potts, have you?”
“Ah, what now?”
“Mr. Potts is still dead?”
“Honable Tonee, eet ees not well to mock--eet ees not well to laff!
He was dead like I say; eet ees not good to mock the dead.”
“He has my abject apologies. But that brings us back to the
murderer.”
“Murderair?”
“By all means--the cove who’s going to dash in and dispose of us if
I light the lamp.”
“Honable Tonee, you know well eet ees he, that mos’ accurse’ black
devil of all black devils to whom I pray to save my Manuelo.”
“Daisy, it can’t be our royal Bhakdi that you’re referring to in
these unmeasured terms?”
And suddenly she clung to him, weeping abjectly through her
clicking teeth.
“No, no, nevair say hees name--nevair spik it! Wair ees there I can
be hid--wair ees there I can be hid far away? I am a-frighten to
die--Manuelo--ah-h--Manuelo!”
The Honourable Tony felt for the small, untidy silken head in the
darkness, patting it with deft but reluctant fingers.
“My dear kid, if it’s Bhakdi who’s been frightening you into this
state, it’s a good deal simpler than one, two, three to straighten
it out. Tell you what: you curl up in this wicker chair--there,
put your head back, and take a long breath--and I’ll stroll over
to the royal residence and put the fear of God and England into
the little blighter. Don’t howl; it’s going to be absolutely all
serene, I swear----”
But at that the soft convulsion of weeping deepened to mysterious
vehemence.
“No, no, nevair stir--nevair--nevair! He mus’ not know I come here;
he mus’ not know I have see you--eef he know that, you die----”
“Daisy, you’ve been running in too much to the cinemas. What you
need is a good stiff dose of ‘Alice in Wonderland.’ ‘Off with his
head’, what? My good child, the little bounder eats out of my
hand--either or both. He----”
“No, no, no, he keel you,” the frantic, obstinate little voice
stammered in desperate urgency. “That he tell to me--that he say to
me--he keel you.”
“But in the name of the Lord, why?”
“Becaus’ I tell to heem that if once more he lay on me hees black
an’ dirty han’s I go to you for help. Ah, Maria, hees han’s--ah,
Manuelo, Manuelo!”
“Daisy--Daisy, this is all simply too good to be true; no,
honestly, I’m wrenching my mind out of its socket trying to believe
you. You’ll swear he said that he’d kill me? But why? Why?”
“Becaus’ ovair me he ees gone crezzy.” The tear-sodden whisper was
charged with mournful pride. “Ovair me he ees gone crezzy mad. He
tell to me that he marry with me--that the jewels from hees las’
two wive he give to me for prezzens----”
The Honourable Tony yielded to another gale of delighted mirth.
“Well, upon my word, you couldn’t ask for anything fairer than
that! Why not accept?”
“Hush--hush--more still! You have forgot Manuelo?”
“To be entirely candid, my child, I had forgot Manuelo. It’s
delightful to know that you haven’t, however! Well, but then how in
the world did you get here?”
“I have jump out from a window.”
“From a---- Daisy, you’re making this up!”
“No, no--for why, for why should I make thees up, Honable Tonee?
Lissen, he have lock me up in a great ogly room, until I come back
into my sense, he say, becaus’ so bad I cry an’ scream, an’ cry an’
scream--lissen, so then I jump from out that window. Ah, ah, Dios,
eet was too high, that window; my haid eet ache, my haid eet ache
so bad, while I have crawl an’ crawl through all the black--but
that boat he was gone away, Honable Tonee, an’ me, I am a-frighten
till I die, becaus’ I do not know wair to go. Lissen, I am a mos’
bad girl--I bring to you danger an’ worry, but my haid eet hurt,
and I do not know wair----”
“My dear Daisy, you knew exactly.” The Honourable Tony administered
a final reassuring pat, and swung off from the table. “You showed
really extraordinary judgment, not to go into the matter of
taste. This is Liberty Hall, my priceless child; you should feel
entirely at home with practically no effort. Before you settle
down definitely, however, we might run over our lines in case the
Imperial Bhakdi takes it into his head to drop in on us before
we’ve worked out any very elaborate campaign for Liberty and
Manuelo, the heart’s belove’. D’you think he’s liable to dash over
before I could hunt up Ghundi and a sampan, and head you down
stream?”
“No, no--no, no, no--do not leave me! No, I die when you shall
leave me!”
“Oh, come!” remonstrated the Honourable Tony blithely. “That’s
spreading it on fairly thick, you know--I don’t believe that
Manuelo would pass over that kind of thing for a minute. Look here,
I’ll be back before you can get through Jack Robinson----”
“No! No!”
It was indecent for any living creature to show such abject terror,
more like a tortured and frenzied kitten than a sane human being.
The Honourable Tony shrugged his shoulders.
“Oh, it’s quite all right with me, you know! I simply thought if
the little beggar was roving about it might be tidier and simpler
to get you out of the way--though it would be any amount jollier
if you were around, naturally. We could do something nice with a
screen--or there’s the other room; on the whole, that has more
possibilities. By Gad, we can get some simply stunning effects,
with practically no trouble at all. I’ve an automatic in there.”
“Ah-h-h!”
“My dear kid, don’t go off like that again, or I won’t let you put
a finger on it. In the extremely remote event that I am dragged
kicking and screaming from the scene of action, however, you could
do some very amusing tricks with it, including potting our imperial
friend. Are you a good shot, Daisy?”
“No, no--what you say now? Do not let heem come; do not let
heem--no thing could I shoot--no thing----”
“Well, there’s one thing that any duffer in the world can shoot,”
said the Honourable Tony soothingly. “There’s absolutely no use
shaking like that; not as long as any stupid little girl in the
world can shoot herself! It’s a simply ripping pistol, Daisy.” He
put one arm about her, light and close, and she relaxed against it
with a strange, comforted little moan. “So that’s that; of course
there’s not half a chance in a thousand that the little beggar
won’t grovel all over the place; I’ll tell him that if he lays one
finger on a British subject, I’ll take jolly good care that England
turns it into an international matter----”
“Oh, for that, he does not care!”
“How do you mean, doesn’t care?”
“No, for Englan’ he does not care--no, not that! When I say to heem
that great Englan’ will protec’ me, he laff right out an’ say,
‘Englan’, bah!’”
“Oh, he said that, did he?” inquired the Honourable Tony grimly.
“Well, that’s not a pretty thing for any fat little Sultan to say.”
He grinned suddenly into the darkness. “‘Englan’, bah!’ Come to
think of it, I’ve murmured something fairly like it myself once
or twice. But then I’m not a fat little Sultan; I happen to be
an Englishman! Daisy, will you swear not to howl if I tell you
something?”
“What now?”
“Well, now it begins to look as though things were going to happen.
There’s a fair-sized cluster of lights bearing down this way from
the royal imperial palace at a good fast clip, and I’m rather
inclined to think that it’s time for little girls that have heart’s
beloveds in the mines to be trotting off to a more secluded spot.
How about it?”
“Yes, yes, I go.” There was a strange and touching docility in the
small voice. “Wair now do I go, Honable Tonee?”
“Here--this way--where’s your hand? Quiet, now; sure you aren’t
going to howl?”
“No; no.”
“That’s right; here’s the door--nothing in the world to howl about,
naturally. Wait, and I’ll find you a chair; or you can curl up on
the bed if you’d rather. That comfortable?”
“Oh, that--that is mos’ comfortable.”
“Good. Now for God’s sake, emulate the well-known mouse! The
revolver’s on the table. No--no--don’t touch it now. Oh, Lucifer,
that perfume! It’ll be our ruin--a headless jackass could smell it
in Singapore. Here, let’s have your handkerchief--quick! Steady on
there. We’re about to receive callers, Daisy!”
There was the sound of feet on the rickety steps--the sound of
hands at the outer door. The Honourable Tony bent down swiftly;
kicked off one shoe--the other--ripped off the white linen coat
and the blue silk scarf, and strode leisurely across the threshold
of his bedroom door with his head on one side and his hands in his
pockets.
“What in the devil?” he inquired amiably of the bronze statue
standing in the pool of light at the head of the stairs. The statue
stirred, and behind it other lights gleamed and danced in darkness.
“Oh--it’s you, Ghundi! What’s the row?
“Master, the Great One bids that you bring the woman and come
swiftly to the palace.”
“Bring what woman?” inquired the Honourable Tony, lazily diverted.
“I say, Ghundi, the Great One hasn’t been having a go at that
brandy again, has he?”
The statue did not move but in the pool of light its eyes shone,
eloquent and imploring.
“Master, jests will not serve you now. She was seen to enter here
by the little son of the head-beater. The Great One says to make
all haste.”
“Well, inform the Great One from me with cordial salutations that
haste is totally foreign to my nature,” remarked the Honourable
Tony affably. “If the largest tiger in the jungle was sitting a
paw’s length off, I couldn’t possibly move rapidly--it’s a most
frightful handicap, I can tell you! As for the little son of the
head-beater, let him be well beaten and allowed no fish for three
days, or he will grow up to be as great a liar as his father.
Shocking what these infants go in for! Did he mention the lady’s
name?”
“Master, master, it is well known that it is the white woman who
came up the waters with your friend. You do ill to delay.”
“Ghundi, it’s never Mrs. Potts? Not the ravishing Mrs. Potts? You
know, that’s pretty priceless in itself. Now suppose you collect
all your little playmates out there and totter back to the Great
One and inform him as gracefully as possible that the ineffable
Potts has gone down the waters that she came up, reluctantly
escorted by Mr. Billee Ledyar’. Present my condolences. She just
caught the boat by the skin of her little white teeth. I agree with
the Great One that it’s a thousand pities that she caught it at
all.”
“Master, I am your servant. I have served you well--I have loved
you better. My heart is yours to use for your meat, my skin for
your carpet; for them I care nothing. If I return without you, they
slay me--if I remain with you, they slay me--it is all one. But
you--you are my master--you are my son--you are my father. Delay no
longer; the woman was seen to enter here--she has not come out.”
The Honourable Tony did not stir from his careless station before
the bedroom door, but something leapt across the guarded space to
that dark and lonely figure--something more warm, more friendly,
more reassuring than any touch of hands.
“Ghundi, there are two fellows this side of Heaven that I’d give a
good bit to take there with me when I go. That sandy-haired young
lunatic who came up the waters is one of them--and you’re the
other. Now cut along back to the Great One, like a good fellow, and
tell him that I was as good as tucked in for the night when you
found me, with a nice little flicker of fever. If I wasn’t cagy
about this dashed night air I’d nip over with you and explain;
as it stands, I’ll trot over the first thing in the morning.
Good-night, old chap; wish the Great One happy dreams.”
Ghundi’s grave voice was suddenly heavy with despair.
“Master, she is here. The air about us cries it to all who breathe.”
“Absolutely sickening, what?” agreed the Honourable Tony. “Jockey
Club, I understand. I picked up her beastly little handkerchief on
the beach path, coming back from the boat--it’s fairly sopped in
it. Here, catch--I was going to send it back to her, but God knows
when it would reach her. The Great One might fancy it; compliments
of the season--corking souvenir, what?”
Ghundi stared down at the wet white ball in his clenched fist.
“Master--I was told to search----”
“And that’ll be about all of _that_,” remarked the Honourable Tony.
A peculiarly ingratiating smile curved the corners of his lips,
and he took both hands from his pockets and made an expressive
gesture toward the long windows above the water. “A little more
chatter like that and out you go to the crocodiles. Come on now,
cut along like a nice chap--my head’s buzzing no end, and I’m mad
for sleep. I’ll have my tea at seven on the tick. And some of that
jolly sticky preserve----”
The dark, troubled face was lit suddenly by a smile, gleaming white
as a benediction, grave and tender and indulgent.
“Where you go,” said Ghundi, “there may I be to serve you!
Farewell, little master.”
He turned back to the dancing lights below him with a sharp word of
command, and as quietly as he had come was gone, passing silently
down the rickety steps into the night. There was a swift murmur of
protest from the waiters, quelled; the light shuffle of feet; the
rustle of parted leaves--silence. The Honourable Tony stood for a
moment listening for any echo of the small dying sounds--whistled
the opening bars of “Where Do We Go From Here, Boys?” twice over
with fine accuracy and restraint, shoved open the bedroom door, and
yielded himself unreservedly to joyous retrospection.
“My word, fairly neat, eh, Daisy? What price the bit about the
handkerchief? And the buzzing head, what? I swear I had no idea
I’d be so good. Fancy what a loss to the stage--or Scotland
Yard--no, no, more sport keeping out of Scotland Yard; well, then,
so that’s that. Now what?”
There was a small sound that might have been a shiver, and a
whisper, strange and lonely as a dream, answered him.
“Now then, farewell, Honable Tonee.”
“Farewell? Thinking of leaving me, Daisy?”
“Yes. Now I am thinkin’--of leavin’ you.”
“My poor kid, you’ll shiver your pretty teeth out if you keep up
like this; I swear I ought to be drawn and quartered for a thumping
brute. After all, it isn’t as much of a lark for you as it is for
me, is it? Now just what _are_ we going to do about you?”
“Honable Tonee, eet ees not for me I shiver; eet ees for you.
Becaus’ you do not onnerstan’--becaus’ you laff--becaus’ you do not
know that all, all ees end. That is mos’ terrible--that you who are
good an’ great an’ love’ by all those Saints do not know that eet
ees end. Of all those Saints and you I ask pardon--I ask pardon,
pardon that thees I have done to you----”
“My dear little lunatic, you’ve done nothing in the world to me;
the blighter knows that if he laid a finger on me he’d be as good
as cutting his throat. While I’m not much given to swanking about
it, half of the big sticks in England are my cousins and my uncles
and my aunts, and though it’s rather a grief to us all, they’d
simply chew him up if he administered as much as a scratch to
anything as sacred as a Bolingham hide. No, I’m a good deal righter
than rain and you take a weight off my mind about the sentiments of
all those Saints; the question before the house is, what about you?”
“Me? Oh, me, eet ees no mattair. Me, I am through.”
“Daisy, I’m just a bit afraid you’re right. We might as well face
the fact at the start that I’m no match for the entire Imperial
army, even if an important item of their defence does consist of
green panties. You wouldn’t consider chucking it?”
“How, chuckin’?”
“You don’t think that Manuelo would understand if you took the two
last wives’ jewels and----”
“Ah,” moaned the little voice in the darkness, “that ees a wicked,
that ees a black an’ ogly thing to say. Me, I am no good--me, I am
no good at all--but that you should have nevair say to me----”
“My dear,” said the Honourable Tony gently, “you’re as good as
gold, and I’m a black-hearted scoundrel that Manuelo ought to flog
from here to his tin mines. In this world or the next, he has my
congratulations; tell him from me that he’s a lucky devil, won’t
you? Now then, I’m off for the other room. I’ll light the lamp,
and give a cracking good imitation of an earnest reader for the
benefit of any callers. In case it doesn’t meet with the proper
applause--just in case, you know--here’s the revolver. You might
bolt the door after I’m gone; that way you’ll have any amount of
time. Not going to be lonely, are you? You can hear me just as well
as though I still were in the room. Moreover, I’m leaving a lady to
take care of you.”
“A ladee?”
“The Duchess of Bolingham. Feel this little black frame? Well,
she’s in there; hold on tight to her. You two are going to adore
each other.”
“No, but I do not onnerstan’; what, what ees thees?”
“This is my mother, Daisy; her first name is Biddy. I think she’s
going to want you to call her by her first name.”
“But she ees daid, your mothair?”
“Dead? That’s the most idiotic description of Biddy; however, there
may be something in what you say, though you’ll never get her
to admit it. Now, then, quite all right? Sure? Good-bye, little
Daisy.”
“Honable Tonee.”
He had to bend his head to catch that faint and wavering whisper.
“Yes?”
“Honable Tonee, becaus’ thees room eet ees so black an’ still--not,
not that I am a-frighten, but becaus’ thees room eet ees so
black an’ still, would you be so vairy kin’ to kiss me good-bye?
Manuelo--Manuelo, he would onnerstan’. You do not think that ladee
would be angery?”
The Honourable Tony bent his bright head to the dark one, and laid
his gay lips swiftly and surely on the small painted mouth.
“That lady would be terrible in anger if I didn’t. Daisy, what nice
perfume! Nicest I ever smelled in all my life. I’m going to get
bottles and bottles of it. All right now, little thing? Good-night
then--Biddy, you look after her; show her all the prettiest places
up there--mind the two of you keep out of mischief! Slip the bolt
behind me, Daisy.”
With a last touch on her hair, light and caressing as his voice,
he was gone through the darkness. He pulled the door to behind him
noiselessly, and stood leaning against it for a moment with bowed
head, listening. Silence--a faint patter of feet--the heavy grating
of the bolt driven home. He raised his head.
“Good girl!” said the Honourable Tony clearly.
He swung across to the table, felt for the matches, and lit the
lamp deftly and swiftly, pulling the long chair into its friendly
aura and distributing the cushions with a rapid dexterity that
belied the lethargy that he had maintained tigers incapable of
disturbing. But then, a little wind had just passed through the
quiet room--a little wind that blew in heavy with darkness and
fragrance and something else--heavy with a distant murmur of
voices, and far-off footsteps coming nearer through the night. It
passed as it came, but the flame in the lamp flickered and burned
brighter, and the flame that danced in the eyes of the gentleman
reclining in the long chair flickered and burned brighter, too,
though they were discreetly lowered over the account of a highly
unsavory Bazaar murder in a two-month-old paper from Singapore.
Even when the footsteps were on the rickety stairs he continued to
read; even when they were on the threshold he only bent his head
a little lower, intent and absorbed; even when the knocks rang
out, ominous and insistent, he did not lift those dancing eyes. He
flipped over the first page of the Singapore paper with a dexterous
thumb and finger, and lifted his voice in welcome leavened with
surprise.
“Come in!” called the Honourable Tony to those who stood in
darkness. And the door opened and they came in.
First there came a small, plump, swarthy gentleman in immaculate
white linen of an irreproachable cut. He had small neat feet shod
in the shiniest of patent-leather boots, and small fat hands
adorned with three superb emeralds, and a set of highly unpleasant
little cat whiskers curling into a grizzled gray at the ends. About
his throat was a scarlet watered ribbon from which dangled a star
as glittering as a Christmas tree ornament, and about his head was
wound a turban of very fine red silk pierced by a brooch in which
crouched another emerald large as a pigeon egg, flawed and sinister
and magnificent. In one fat little hand he held a pair of white
kid gloves and a small handkerchief badly crumpled; in the other a
swagger stick of ebony banded with smooth gold. He walked on the
tips of his patent-leather toes, and behind him came ten gigantic
figures in incredible green uniforms with gold-laced jackets that
were debtors to the Zouaves, and fantastic caps strapped under
their chins reminiscent of the organ-grinder’s monkey and the
dancing vaudeville bellboy. Lanterns light as bubbles swung from
their great paws and in the gilded holsters at their waists the
mother-of-pearl handles of the famous automatics gleamed like the
Milky Way. They padded behind their master, silent as huge cats,
and smiled at one another like delighted children. His Imperial
Majesty, the Sultan Bhakdi, accompanied by the Royal Body Guard,
was making a call on the British Adviser.
The British Adviser rose easily to his feet.
“Your Majesty!” he saluted, with precisely the correct inflection
of gratified amazement.