Olejoe the First, crowned and confident, was on his throne, and Tuppy
was rehearsing him in view of an approaching function.
"Draw near us," said Tuppy.
"Draw near us," repeated Olejoe pompously.
"What ho, varlets--a beaker of wine," coached Tuppy.
"What ho, varmints----"
"Varlets," corrected Tuppy.
"What ho, var----"
Just then the Duke entered, a tragic figure.
Olejoe, proud of his accomplishments, spoke his lines.
"Ho! noble dook," he bleated, "draw near----"
"Come down out of that," said the Duke peevishly, "go into the kitchen."
"If," said Olejoe taking off his crown politely, "I've said anything
that's given offence----"
"Go to the devil," said the Duke.
The king retired hurriedly.
Not a word was spoken till he had departed, then:
"I'm disengaged," said the Duke bitterly.
"My dear old feller!" expostulated Tuppy.
"I'm disengaged," repeated the Duke. He looked round for a seat. The
throne invited him and he mounted its wooden steps.
"I'm finished," he said and sat down on Olejoe's abandoned crown.
He sprung up with alacrity and flung the bauble away.
"Steady with the crown jewels, old man," said Tuppy anxiously. "Hank,
the Koh-i-noor's knocked off, there it is under your chair. Monty, old
owl, why this introduction of R. E. Morse, Esq?"
In a few gloomy words the Duke made clear the situation.
Fortunately for all concerned Tuppy's knowledge of women and their ways
was encyclopaedic.
As Tuppy himself confessed, what he didn't know was hardly worth
finding. He admitted he was a misogynist, he confessed that his
experience had been a bitter one, but he tried, as he said, to think
that all elderly ladies were not like the dowager, and few marriageable
girls had the physical strength to chuck a feller down three flights of
stairs.
"Mind you, old bird," warned Tuppy, "the intention is there all right.
The will to do, bein' somewhat hampered by an undeveloped muscular
development, it follows that my own experience was a unique reply to the
Brownin' feller who asked--
What hand an' mind went ever paired?
What brain alike conceived an' dared?
What act proved all its thought had been?
What will but felt the fleshy screen?
"Dear old feller, as one who's felt the fleshy screen grip me by my neck
an' the left leg of my trousers--yes, positively and indelicately the
left leg of my trousers--I can answer the Brownin' feller. It was a
remarkable experience. I nearly wrote an account of it for the _Field_.
But Monty, poor soul, your experience is milder in fact though parallel
in principle. Metaphorically you've been scruffed an' bagged, an'
there's only one thing to do."
He paused.
"Sit it out, my boy; be aloof, noble, patient, stricken with grief; go
to church on Sunday in deep mourning; start a soup kitchen an' be good
to the poor--that fetches 'em."
"Sure," said Hank.
"There's another way," said Tuppy with enthusiasm, "be the riotous dog,
stay out late an' come home early, sing comic songs, wear soft fronted
dress shirts to emphasize your decadence, go to the devil
ostentatiously--that fetches 'em to."
"Sure," agreed Hank.
"That is easier," said the Duke thoughtfully.
"It was all so very unexpected and sudden," he went on reverting to the
tragedy of the evening.
"It always is," said the sympathetic Tuppy, "take my case: I hadn't time
to catch hold of the bannisters before----"
I think the Duke was genuinely distressed. He sat with his head resting
on one hand, his brows wrinkled in a frown, his free hand plucking idly
at the velvet fringe that ornamented the throne.
"I had looked forward to a joyous winter," he said disconsolately, "we'd
got the brokers in; we might have been evicted by the police; I most
certainly should have gone to Brixton Prison--I'd arranged to borrow
Windermere's state carriage and postillions for the occasion--and now
the whole scheme is nipped in the bud."
They sat in the common-room which in the day time commanded a view of
the tiny garden, and toward the darkness which hid amongst other things
the Sacred Ladder, now alas! purposeless. The Duke shook his clenched
fist.
"Woe is me----" he began.
Out of the gloom of the garden leapt a thin spurt of white flame.
There was a crash of glass and a splint of wood flew from the gilded
back of the throne.
Instantly came a stinging report, and the light went out--Hank was in
reach of the switch, and Hank moved quickly in emergencies like these.
V
Mr. Slewer's attack came unexpectedly and found the Duke unprepared.
Once before Mr. Slewer had come to Kymott Crescent, but his arrival had
been noted by the observant Hank, and there had been a raid upon a well
furnished armoury.
The Duke ran for the conservatory, but Hank's arm caught him.
"Not on your life," he murmured. "If that's Bill he's waitin'--get
upstairs an' find your gun. Mine's hangin' behind the door of my room."
He heard the Duke mount the stairs with flying feet, and cautiously
opened the conservatory door that led to the garden.
"Hullo, you Bill," he said softly, but there came no answer.
Disregarding the sage advice he had given to the Duke he stepped swiftly
into the darkness. He sank down flat on the wet grass and peered left
and right. There was no sign of any intruder, but he was too old a
campaigner to trust overmuch to first appearances.
There was a light step behind him, and he was joined by the Duke.
"See anything," whispered the Duke and pushed a Colt into his hands.
"Nothing," said Hank, "he's gone."
Noiselessly they wriggled the garden length.
Hank made for the place where the ladder should have been, but his
sweeping arm could not find it. Later it was discovered against the
wall at the end of the garden.
Kymott Crescent is an offshoot of Kymott Road.
If you take the letter Y, the left fork to represent the Crescent, and
the straight line and right fork to represent Kymott Road, you may
realize the easier how the mysterious assassin escaped. For on the
other side of the wall at the end of the Duke's garden is a main
thoroughfare, deserted at this hour of the night, and it was as simple a
matter to gain access to the garden as it was to escape from it.
They returned to Tuppy, a preternaturally solemn figure, sitting
entrenched behind a divan which he had thoughtfully upended.
"He's gone," said the Duke cheerfully, but awoke no responsive gleam in
Tuppy's eye.
"Oh, he's gone, has he?" said Tuppy absently.
"Yes, nipped over a ladder--I say, Tuppy, you're not scared?"
"Not a bit, oh dear no," replied Tuppy, without any great heartiness.
"There wasn't any danger, you know."
"Of course not," said Tuppy airily, "quite so."
He glanced apprehensively at the shattered glass of the door.
"Better put up the shutters, old feller," he said with a careless wave
of his hand, "there's a beastly draught."
There were, as it happened, two folding shutters, artfully concealed at
the side of the door, which Hank closed.
Tuppy sighed explosively.
"Of course," he said, "a little thing like that wouldn't worry me. To a
feller who has seen the ups an' downs of life, especially the downs, an
incident of this description--put the bar over that shutter, Hank, old
friend, I still feel the draught--an incident of this description is
mere child's play--I think I'll toddle."
The Duke protested.
"So soon! oh rot, Tuppy, stay and make a night of it. I want your
invaluable advice, Tuppy; I'm at sixes and sevens."
"Not to-night, old boy," said Tuppy earnestly, "got a shockin'
headache--too much port--liver out of order."
They escorted him to his door.
Safe inside the portals of his own mansion Tuppy recovered his spirits.
"If the fishin' is as excitin' as the shootin'," he mused aloud, "I've
got hold of a fine sportin' estate."