A DISTURBANCE IN HAMPSTEAD
Isabel gazed round the cheerful, brightly lighted little restaurant
with a glance of complete contentment.
"I am quite sure father was wrong about our being the rightful heirs
to the throne," she said. "Anyhow, I don't feel the least like a
queen."
"You mustn't be so exacting," replied Tony. "You look like one; and
that's all that any reasonable girl has any right to expect."
"Still," persisted Isabel, "I expect that proper kings and queens
have a special sort of Royal feeling inside. I haven't got it in the
least. I have been a thousand times happier since I ran away than I
ever should be if I was stuck up on a throne. It's the silly
pretence of it all that I should hate so. Even the sort of
semi-state that we used to keep up when Father was alive nearly drove
me mad. It was like being surrounded by a lot of stupid shadows. Do
you know that except for Miss Watson, you and Cousin Guy are the
first _real_ people I have ever met."
"There are not many about," said Tony. "At least that's how it seems
to me. I always feel as if I was in the stalls of a theatre looking
on at a play. The only real people are one's friends who are sitting
alongside, criticizing and abusing it."
Isabel nodded. "It's the first time I have been in the audience,"
she said. "Up till now I haven't even done any acting. I have just
been waiting behind the scenes as a sort of understudy."
They had just finished dinner and were dawdling pleasantly over
coffee and cigarettes in the soothing atmosphere of the Café Bruges.
They had chosen that discreet but excellent little restaurant as the
one in which they were least likely to run across inconvenient
acquaintances, since its clientele consists almost entirely of Board
of Trade officials, who take little interest in anything outside of
their own absorbing profession. Compared with these deserving but
sombre people Isabel looked very young and charming. The strained,
hunted look had quite gone out of her face, and in the softly shaded
light her amber eyes shone with a contented happiness that Tony found
extremely attractive.
"I think you will find Aunt Fanny real enough," he said, tipping off
the end of his cigarette into the saucer. "At least she always seems
amazingly so to me."
"I am sure we shall get along together splendidly," said Isabel.
"She sounds a dear from what you have told me about her."
"She is," replied Tony with as near an approach to enthusiasm as he
ever attained. "She is the most complete and delightful aunt in the
world. Fancy an ordinary aunt of seventy-two offering to come with
us on the _Betty_!"
"I am looking forward to it so much," exclaimed Isabel happily. "I
love the sea. I should like to go right round the world and then
back again."
Tony contemplated her with lazy enjoyment. "Well, there's nothing to
stop us," he said, "unless Aunt Fanny or Guy object. I am afraid
it's not quite Guy's idea of a really useful and intelligent
employment."
"He _is_ serious," admitted Isabel, "but he is very kind. I daresay
he wouldn't mind if I asked him nicely."
"It's quite possible," said Tony gravely. He glanced at his watch.
"We ought to be getting along to the Empire," he added, "or we shall
miss the performing sea lions. I wouldn't have that happen for
anything in the world."
He paid the bill, and leaving the restaurant they strolled off
through the brightly lighted streets in the direction of Leicester
Square. It was a delightfully fine evening, and Isabel, who had
insisted on walking, drank in the varied scene with an interest and
enjoyment that would have satisfied Charles Lamb. There was a
freshness and excitement about her pleasure in it all that spoke
eloquently of the dull life she must have been forced to lead by her
guardian, and Tony felt more gratified than ever at his remembrance
of the heavy thud with which that gentleman had rebounded from the
sun-baked soil of Richmond Park.
It cannot justly be said that the Empire programme contained any very
refreshing novelties, but Isabel's enthusiasm was contagious. Tony
found himself applauding the sea lions and the latest half naked
dancer with generous if indiscriminating heartiness, while the jests
of a certain comedian took on a delicate freshness that they had not
known since the earliest years of the century.
It was not until the orchestra had completed their somewhat hasty
rendering of _God Save the King_, that Isabel, with a little sigh of
satisfaction, expressed herself ready to depart. They strolled down
together to the R.A.C. Garage where Tony had left the car, and in a
few minutes they were picking their way through the still crowded
streets of the West End in the direction of Hampstead.
From Tottenham Court Road they had a beautiful clear run home, the
Hispano sweeping up Haverstock Hill with that effortless rhythm that
only a perfectly tuned-up car can achieve. They rounded the quiet
deserted corner of Latimer Lane, and gliding gently along in the
shadow of the trees, pulled up noiselessly outside Mrs. Spalding's
house.
"Hullo," said Tony. "Somebody else has been dissipating too."
He pointed up the road to where about thirty yards ahead, the
tail-light of another car could be seen outside one of the houses.
Isabel laughed with a kind of soft happiness. "I hope they have had
as nice an evening as we have," she observed generously.
Pulling her skirt round her, she stepped lightly out of the car, and
having switched off the engine, Tony followed suit.
"I will just come in and see that everything's right," he said. "I
told Bugg that we should be back about eleven-thirty."
He moved towards the gate which was in deep shadow and laid his hand
upon the latch. As he did so there was the faintest possible rustle
in the darkness beside him. With amazing swiftness he wheeled round
in the direction of the sound, but even so he was just too late. A
savage blow in the mouth sent him staggering back against the
gate-post and then before he could recover a figure leapt out on him
with the swiftness of a panther, and clutched him viciously around
the body. At the same instant a second man sprang out from the
gloom, and snatched up Isabel in his arms.
Half dazed as he was by the blow, Tony struggled fiercely with his
unknown assailant. Swaying and straining they crashed backwards
together into the garden gate, and the suffocating grip round his
waist momentarily slackened.
"Bugg!" he roared at the top of his voice. "Bugg!!" In the darkness
a hand seized him by the throat, but with a tremendous effort he
managed to shake it off, and jerking his head forward brought the top
of his forehead in violent contact with the bridge of his assailant's
nose. A yelp of agony went up into the night, and at the same
instant a swift patter of footsteps could be heard hurrying down the
garden path.
Either this sound or else the pain of the blow seemed to have a
disturbing effect upon the stranger, for once again his grip loosened
and with a final effort Tony tore himself free. He was panting for
breath, and the blood was trickling from his cut lips, but his only
thought was for Isabel's safety. Thirty yards away in the gleam of
his own headlights he could see a furious scuffle taking place
outside the other car. With a shout of encouragement he hurled
himself to the rescue, and even as he did so the quick sharp sound of
a pistol rang out like the crack of a whip. The struggling mass
broke up into two figures--one of which reeled against the car with
his hands to its head, while the other--Isabel herself--staggered
back feebly in the opposite direction. Tony flung his last available
ounce of energy into a supreme effort, but the distance was too great
to cover in the time. Just as he reached the spot there came the
grinding clang of a clutch being hastily thrust in, and the car
jerked off up the road with the door swinging loose upon its hinges.
For a moment both he and Isabel were too exhausted to speak. Panting
and trembling she clung to his shoulder, the little smoking pistol
still clutched tightly in her hand.
Tony was the first to recover his breath.
"Well done, Isabel," he gasped.
She looked up at him, her breast rising and falling quickly, and her
brown eyes full of a sort of passionate concern.
"Oh, Tony," she said, "you're hurt. Your face is all covered with
blood."
Tony pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed it against his lips.
"It's nothing," he said cheerfully, "nothing at all. I bleed very
easily if any one hits me in the mouth. All really well bred people
do." He bent down and took the little pistol out of her hand. "Who
was the gentleman you shot?" he asked.
Isabel shook her head. "I don't know. I have never seen him before.
He was a rough, common man with a red face.'
"He ought to die all right anyhow," said Tony hopefully. "It was
nothing like the ten yards, and Harrod is very reliable as a rule."
"I'm afraid he won't," said Isabel in a rather depressed voice. "I
aimed at his head, but he ducked and I think I only shot his ear off."
"Well, we won't bother to look for it," said Tony. "I don't suppose
it was a particularly nice one." He turned and glanced down the
road. "Hullo," he added, "here comes Bugg! I wonder what he's done
with the other chap."
With an anxious expression upon his face, the faithful "Tiger" was
hurrying along the pavement towards them, moving with that swift
cat-like tread that stamps the well-trained athlete. He pulled up
with a sigh of relief on seeing that they were both apparently safe.
"Sorry I was so long comin', Sir Ant'ny," he observed. "I didn't
'ear nothin'--not till you shouts 'Bugg.'"
"I didn't notice any appreciable delay," replied Tony kindly. "Who
was our little friend at the gate?"
Bugg's face hardened into the somewhat grim expression it generally
wore in the ring. "It was that swine Lopez--beggin' your pardon,
miss. But it was 'im all right, sir: there ain't no error abaht
that."
Tony's damaged lips framed themselves into a low whistle. "Lopez,
was it!" he said softly. "I ought to have guessed. There was a
touch of the expert about that punch."
"'E ain't 'urt yer, 'as 'e, sir?" demanded Bugg anxiously.
"Oh, no," said Tony, "but he had a very praise-worthy try."
Bugg chuckled. "You done it on _'im_ proper, sir. I seed 'is face
w'en 'e come aht in the lamp-light, and 'e didn't look as if 'e
wanted no more. Any'ow 'e wasn't exac'ly waitin' for it."
"Bolted, I suppose?" said Tony laconically.
Bugg nodded. "Run like a stag, sir. I didn't go after 'im, not far:
I reckoned you might be wantin' me 'ere."
"Well, we'd better be getting into the house," said Tony. "We shall
have some of the neighbours out in a minute. They are not used to
these little scuffles in Hampstead."
Even as he spoke one of the front gates clicked, and an elderly
gentleman in carpet slippers and a purple dressing-gown appeared on
the pavement. He was clutching a poker in his right hand, and he
seemed to be in a state of considerable agitation.
On seeing the small group he came to an abrupt halt, and drew back
his weapon ready for instant action.
"What has happened?" he demanded shrilly. "I insist upon knowing
what has happened."
With a disarming smile Tony advanced towards him.
"How do you do?" he said pleasantly. "I am Sir Antony Conway of
Goodman's Rest."
The elderly gentleman's harassed face changed at once to that affable
expression which all respectable Englishmen assume in the presence of
rank and wealth.
"Indeed--indeed, sir," he observed. "I am delighted to meet you.
Perhaps you can inform me what has occurred. I was aroused from my
sleep by the sound of firearms--firearms in Hampstead--sir!"
"I know," said Tony; "it's disgraceful, isn't it--considering the
rates we have to pay?" He made a gesture towards the car. "I am
afraid I can't tell you very much. I was driving my cousin back from
the theatre, and when we pulled up we ran right into what looked like
a Corsican vendetta. I tried to interfere, and somebody hit me in
the mouth for my pains. Then I think they must have heard you
coming, because they all cleared out quite suddenly."
The elderly gentleman drew himself up into an almost truculent
attitude.
"It is fortunate that I was awakened in time," he said. "Had I been
a sound sleeper--" He paused as though words were inadequate to
convey the catastrophe that might have ensued. "All the same," he
added with true British indignation, "it's perfectly scandalous that
such things should be allowed to take place in a respectable
neighbourhood like this. I shall certainly complain to the police
the first thing in the morning."
"Yes, do," said Tony, "only look here, I mustn't keep you standing
about any longer or you will be catching cold. That would be a poor
return for saving my life, wouldn't it?"
He wrung the old gentleman's hand warmly, and the latter, who by this
time had apparently begun to believe that he had really achieved some
desperate feat of heroism, strutted back up his garden path with the
poker swinging fiercely in his hand.
Tony turned to the others. "Come along," he said. "Let's get in
before any more of our rescuers arrive."
Bugg had left the front door of Mrs. Spalding's house open, and they
made their way straight into the little sitting-room, where the gas
was burning cheerfully, and a tray of whisky and soda had been set
out on the table.
Tony inspected the latter with an approving eye.
"You are picking up the English language very quickly, Isabel," he
remarked.
She smiled happily. "I asked Mrs. Spalding to get it for me," she
said. "I know that men like to drink at funny times--at least all
father's friends used to." She pulled up an easy-chair to the table.
"Now you have got to sit down and help yourself," she added. "I am
going to get some warm water and bathe your mouth. It's dreadfully
cut."
Tony started to protest, but she had already left the room, and by
the time he had mixed and despatched a very welcome peg, she was back
again with a small steaming basin and some soft handkerchiefs.
He again attempted to raise some objection, but with a pretty
imperiousness she insisted on his lying back in the chair. Then
bending over him she tenderly bathed and dried his cut lips,
performing the operation with the gentleness and skill of a properly
trained nurse.
"Perhaps you're right after all about the Royal blood," he said,
sitting up and inspecting himself carefully in a hand-glass. "I
doubt if any genuine queen could have so many useful accomplishments."
"I have never been allowed to do anything for anybody yet," said
Isabel contentedly. "I have got a lot of lost time to make up."
Tony took her hands, which she now surrendered to him without any
trace of the slight embarrassment that had formerly marked their
relationship.
"You are only just beginning life, Isabel," he said. "You have all
the advantage of being born suddenly at eighteen. It's much the
nicest arrangement, really, because no intelligent person ever enjoys
their childhood or schooldays." He released her hands, and glanced
across at the clock on the mantelpiece. "It's time you went to bed,"
he added. "We'll talk about our adventure in the morning. One
should always have a good night's rest after shooting off anybody's
ear. It steadies the nerves."
"All right," said Isabel obediently. "I don't suppose they will try
again to-night, do you?"
Tony shook his head. "No," he replied; "otherwise I would stay here
and sleep on the mat." He took up his hat off the table. "Try and
get packed by eleven if you can manage it. I will come round and
call for you with the Peugot: your things will just go nicely into
the back." He paused. "Good-night, Isabel, dear."
She looked up at him with that frank, trustful smile of hers.
"Good-night, Tony, dear," she said.
* * * * * * *
It was exactly a quarter to one the next day, when the second curate
at St. Peter's, Eaton Square, whose mind was full of a sermon that he
was composing, stepped carelessly off the pavement into the roadway.
This rash act very nearly ended any chances of his becoming a bishop,
for a large travel-stained car that was coming along Holbein Place at
a considerable speed, only just swerved out of his path by the
fraction of an inch. With an exclamation that sounded
extraordinarily like "dammit" the curate leaped back on to the
pavement, and turning down Chester Square, the car pulled up in front
of Lady Jocelyn's.
Tony and Isabel stepped out, and with a certain air of satisfaction
the former glanced round the comparatively deserted landscape.
"I think we have baffled them, Isabel," he said, "unless that curate
was a spy."
Isabel laughed. "He was very nearly a corpse," she remarked.
The door of the house opened, emitting two of Lady Jocelyn's trim
maids, who were evidently expecting their arrival. Tony assisted
them to collect the luggage and carry it into the house, and then
following one of them upstairs, he and Isabel were ushered into the
drawing-room, where Lady Jocelyn was waiting to receive them.
"This is Isabel, Aunt Fanny," he said.
Lady Jocelyn took in the rightful Queen of Livadia with one of her
shrewd, kindly glances.
"My dear," she said, "you are very pretty. Come and sit down."
Isabel, smiling happily, seated herself on the sofa beside her
hostess, while Tony established himself on the hearth-rug in front of
the fireplace.
"She is an improved edition of Molly Monk," he observed contentedly;
"and Molly is supposed to be one of the prettiest girls in London."
"You ought to be nice-looking," said Lady Jocelyn, patting Isabel's
hand. "Your father was a splendidly handsome man before he took to
drink. I remember the portraits of him they used to stick up in
Portriga, whenever Pedro's father was more than usually unpopular."
She turned to Tony. "I am thankful that you have got her here
safely," she added. "I stayed awake quite a long time last night
wondering if you were having your throats cut."
Tony laughed. "No," he said; "it was only my lip, and Isabel patched
it up very nicely."
Lady Jocelyn put on her tortoise-shell spectacles, and inspected him
gently.
"My dear Tony," she said, "now I come to look at you I can see that
you are a little out of drawing. I was so interested in Isabel I
never noticed it before."
"It's only temporary," said Tony. "My beauty will return." He
glanced at the clock, and then pulled up an easy-chair. "I will tell
you the whole story if you like, Aunt Fanny. There is just time
before lunch, and it always gives me an appetite to talk about
myself."
[Illustration: "I will tell you the whole story if you like, Aunt
Fanny. There is just time before lunch, and it always gives me an
appetite to talk about myself." Lady Jocelyn nodded. "Go on, Tony,"
she said encouragingly. "We have plenty of food in the house."]
Lady Jocelyn nodded. "Go on, Tony," she said, encouragingly. "We
have plenty of food in the house."
There is something rather effective about a really incongruous
atmosphere, and described the next morning, with the solid
respectability of Chester Square as a background, the midnight battle
of Latimer Lane seemed to gain rather than lose in vividness. Tony
told it with what for him was a really praiseworthy restraint and
directness, and he had just got to the end when the door opened and
the parlour-maid announced that lunch was ready.
Lady Jocelyn rose from the sofa. "Let us go and have something to
eat," she said. "I feel absolutely in need of support. Your society
has always been stimulating, Tony; but since you have adopted a
profession I find it almost overwhelming."
She put her arm through Isabel's, and they made their way down to the
dining-room where a dainty little lunch was waiting their attention.
For a few minutes the conversation took a briskly gastronomic trend,
and then, having dismissed the parlour-maid Lady Jocelyn turned to
Tony.
"You can go on," she said. "I feel stronger now."
"I don't know that there's very much more to tell," said Tony. "I
had to explain it all to Guy who was very hard and unsympathetic. He
said it served me right for taking Isabel to the Empire, and that it
was only through the mercy of Heaven we were both not wanted for
murder. I think he must have meant Harrod, but he said Heaven."
"They are not at all alive," replied Lady Jocelyn, "at least I hope
not. I should hate to spend eternity in Harrod's." She paused. "I
wonder if there is any chance of your having been followed this
morning?"
"I don't think so," said Tony. "They probably watched us start, but
I took a little tour round Barnet and Hertford before coming here.
We didn't see any one following us--did we, Isabel?"
Isabel shook her head. "I don't think Da Freitas would try," she
said, "not if he has seen you drive. He never wastes his time upon
impossibilities."
Lady Jocelyn laughed. "My dear," she said gently; "you mustn't make
jokes if you want to be taken for a genuine queen. Joking went out
of fashion with Charles the Second. Nowadays no Royalty has any
sense of humour; indeed in Germany it's regarded as a legal bar to
the throne." She turned back to Tony. "Have you heard from your
captain yet?"
Tony nodded. "I had a wire this morning. He says the _Betty_ can be
ready for sea any time after Thursday."
"That's the best of being a ship," observed Lady Jocelyn a little
enviously. "One has only to paint oneself and take in some food and
one's ready to go anywhere. I have to buy clothes, and make my will,
and invent some story that will satisfy my brother-in-law the Dean.
I promised to go and stay with him next month: and it will have to be
a good story, because Deans are rather clever at that sort of thing
themselves."
"I think it's so kind of you to come with us," observed Isabel simply.
"My dear," said Lady Jocelyn, "I couldn't possibly allow you to go
away alone on the _Betty_ with Tony and Guy. It would be so bad for
the morals of the captain." She pressed the electric bell. "By the
way, Tony--is Guy coming, and have you decided yet where you are
going to take us?"
"Guy's coming all right," replied Tony. "He has gone to the Stores
this morning to look through their patent life-saving waistcoats."
He helped himself to a glass of Hock. "I thought we might try Buenos
Ayres, Aunt Fanny. It's just the right time of year."
"I have no objection," said Lady Jocelyn. "I don't know much about
it except that you pronounce it wrong, Tony."
"It's quite a nice place, I believe," said Tony. "They buy all our
best race-horses."
There was a brief interval while the parlour-maid, who had just come
in, cleared away their plates, and presented them with a fresh course.
"I haven't a great number of race-horses to dispose of," observed
Lady Jocelyn, when the girl had again withdrawn, "but all the same I
shall be very pleased to go to Buenos Ayres. When do you propose to
start?"
"Whenever you like," said Tony generously.
Lady Jocelyn reflected for a moment. "I think I could be ready by
to-day week. We oughtn't to be longer than we can help or Da Freitas
may find out where you have hidden Isabel."
"To-day week it shall be," said Tony. "I will send Simmons a wire to
have everything ready, and then we can all motor down in the Rolls
and start straight away."
"And in the meantime," observed Lady Jocelyn, "I think it would be
wiser if you didn't come here at all, Tony. They are sure to keep a
pretty close eye on you, and you might be followed in spite of all
your precautions. I am not nervous, but we don't want to have Isabel
shooting people on the doorstep. It would upset the maids so."
"I expect you're right, Aunt Fanny," said Tony a little sadly, "but
it will be very unpleasant. I have got used to Isabel now, and I
hate changing my habits."
"It will be quite good for you," returned Lady Jocelyn firmly. "You
are so accustomed to having everything you want in life it must
become positively monotonous." She turned to Isabel. "You can
always talk to Tony on the telephone, you know, when you get bored
with an old woman's society."
Isabel smiled. "I don't think I shall wait for that," she said, "or
we might never talk at all."