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ROGUES
COMPANY
IDA A.RWYLIE








ROGUES & COMPANY


BY THE SAME AUTHOR
CHILDREN OF STORM
TOWARDS MORNING
THE SHINING HEIGHTS
HOLY FIRE AND OTHER STORIES


ROGUES & COMPANY
BY
IDA A. R. WYLIE
AUTHOR OF
"CHILDREN OF STORM," "TOWARDS MORNING,"
ETC.
NEW YORK
JOHN LANE COMPANY
MCMXXI


236 Golf 5
HPDG1ST BYEECHARGE
HAAMRO COLEGE LIBRAHY
June 25,1923
COPYRIGHT, 1921,
BY INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1921,
BY JOHN LANE COMPANY
Press of
J. J. Little & Ives Company
New York, U. 8. A.


ROGUES & COMPANY





ROGUES & COMPANY
CHAPTER I
It was a very curious and decidedly uncom-
fortable feeling, and though he had a dim idea
that he had felt it somewhere before, he could
remember nothing more definite about it. As a
matter of fact it was in itself nothing so very
unusual-most people experience the same sen-
sations on waking up at dead of night in strange
quarters. On such occasions the victim grows hot
and feverish in the endeavour to locate the door
and window; he cannot remember who he is,
where he is or how he got there; he feels pain-
fully lost and helpless. Then, gradually, his fac-
ulties rub their eyes and arrange themselves, and
the fact that he is Jones, that he is spending the
week-end with the Smiths, and that the uncanny
apartment is nothing more terrible than their best
spare bed-room, dawns on him with comforting
completeness, and he turns over and resumes his
interrupted slumbers.
But in this case the experience was less pleasant


ROGUES & COMPANY
in its development and considerably more original.
The more wide-awake he grew the less he knew
about himself. The more he said to himself,
“My dear fellow, pull yourself together—it's only
a dream," the more obvious did it become that he
was sitting on the doorstep of an unknown house
in an unknown street, with aching limbs and an
aching head. Now such a combination of cir-
cumstances is not altogether unusual even in the
best society, and he sat and patiently waited for
an illuminating memory. But none came. If he
had, as he at first supposed, supped not wisely but
too well, where had he supped and with whom?
There was no answer to this natural question.
He shook himself.
"Oh, come now!” he said aloud. “Surely you
know your own name?”.
Again no answer. Evidently it had been a big
business. When a man has to resort to his own
visiting card to find out who he is one may be for-
given for supposing that this self-forgetfulness is
something less than pure altruism. The man on
the doorstep resigned himself to necessity and put
his hand in his trouser pocket. Nothing. The
other trouser pocket was also empty—likewise the
waistcoat pocket. This was disconcerting. What
was still more disconcerting was the hole in the
knee of his trousers as revealed by the light of a
street-lamp, and he thereupon made the discovery


ROGUES & COMPANY 9
that far from being in evening-dress, as his condi-
tion suggested, he wore a check suit of vulgar type
and ancient lineage, and that he was cuffless and
collarless. All this was very surprising and pain.
ful. He addressed himself with severity.
"Really, my dear fellow, this won't do--can't
sit out here all night, you know—not done".
At this juncture Constable X. of the D. Divi-
sion loomed upon the horizon. Constable X. car-
ried a lantern and was evidently on the lookout
for burglars and other miscreants, for he did not
notice the man on the doorstep until he had stum-
bled over his legs. What the Constable said is
irrelevant. The man on the doorstep apologised
profusely.
“I'm sure I'm extremely sorry," he said. His
own prompt politeness led him at once to the con-
clusion that his station in life must be something
between a shop-walker and a gentleman, but this
opinion was apparently not shared by his victim.
Constable X. flashed his lantern onto the doorstep
and gave vent to a snort of mingled triumph and
indignation.
"At it again! Eh?” he said. "Got you this
time, have I?"
"It looks like it,” his prisoner admitted.
“Were you looking for me?"
"Now then, none of your tongue, young fel-
low! Wot d’yer mean?"


10
ROGUES & COMPANY
"I mean," said the man on the doorstep cour-
teously, “that it would be a great relief to me to
know that someone was looking for me—even a
policeman. The fact is, you know—I'm lost.”
"Oh, so you're lost, are you?” The Constable
laughed with the rudeness which is born of a shat-
tered trust in human nature. “Sort of lost dog,
eh?”
"The designation will do until I find a better
one,” returned the other, wearily. “But I doubt
if even the Dog's Home will take me in. What
am I to do?"
“Move on!” said the Constable, from sheer
force of habit.
“But I can't keep on ‘moving on' indefinitely."
The Constable scratched his head.
“You'd better come along with me," he said.
“Might I ask-whither?".
"Lock-up," was the laconic answer.
"But I haven't done anything."
"Can't be so sure of that—and anyhow, you're
sitting on someone else's doorstep.".
"You don't know that it is someone else's door-
step. It might be mine."
"It might—but it don't look like it."
"You infer," his captive suggested, “that I do
not give you the impression of being a landed
proprietor ?"
“Can't say as you do,” Constable X. admitted
someone
r.
SSION


ROGUES & COMPANY 11
frankly. "You gives me the impression of being
a very common sort of night-bird.”
The man on the doorstep shook his head.
"You judge too hastily," he protested. "If I
am, as you suggest, a night-bird, I have none the
less the feeling that I may turn out to be one of
nature's gentlemen. Now, look here!” He rose
stiffly and painfully and conducted the doubting
Constable to the lamp. “What do you make of
that!” he enquired triumphantly. He extended
his two hands. Constable X. considered them
with his head cocked astutely on one side.
"Cleanish," he said. “Uncommon cleanish.”
"Sergeant, you are a man of perception. Now,
glance over me. Do not let yourself be led astray
by the vulgarity of my costume. Consider my
face, my manner and my speech. What do you
think of me?''
“Well, you might be a sort of gent," Constable
X. admitted.
"Inspector—" the young man began.
"Not yet, sir-" Constable X. protested with a
touch of coyness.
"Never mind, you ought to be an inspector,
even if you aren't. I was judging you as you
judged me—by deserts. I feel that I ought to be
a gentleman, I'm sure you ought to be an inspec-
tor. But the trouble with me is that I don't know
who or what I am."


12
ROGUES & COMPANY
“Drunk,” suggested the inspector in embryo,
consolingly.
"I may have been in the past-but I am cer-
tainly sober now.”
"Yes, you talks clear enough. Got a wisiting
card on you?”
"If I had, the matter would be simplified. My
pockets are as empty as my head."
The Constable's smile was unflattering.
“Can't you remember anythink?” he appealed.
“Not a thing. I've been trying for the last
half-hour. What's to be done? I can't stay on
the streets all night and as far as I know I haven't
any claim on any charitable institution."
Constable X. rubbed his chin.
"It's a case of lost memory," he announced sol.
emnly. “I've 'eard of it before. I knew of an
old lady who wandered over 'alf London before
they found out that she was a duchess. It was a
big thing for the man who found 'er.”
"Nothing like so big as it would be for you if
you found I was a duke,” interposed the lost one
generously. "If I am a duke-solvent of course
- I shall raise you to a position of affluency. I
swear it by my ancestors—supposing I have any."
Constable X. touched his helmet.
“Thank you, sir," he said with considerably
more respect. “Ii's a case for the doctors-
that's wot it is," he went on thoughtfully, “wot


ROGUES & COMPANY 13
they calls a specialist. The duchess was queer in
her upper storey—senile decay, as they called it.”
“Good heavens, I'm not as old as that, am I ?”
"'Tain't always age that does it," Constable X.
returned, with a grave and significant shake of the
head. “There's decays and decays. You've got
'em young—that's all.”
"Suppose we find the doctor?" suggested the
young man hastily.
“You're sitting on 'is doorstep.”
The prospective patient examined the door-
plate.
"Mr. Smedley," he read aloud, “veterinary sur-
geon. Look here, Inspector, that won't do. I'm
not an animal.”
“You said you was a lost dog," retorted the
Constable, with grim delight in his own jest.
"Well, anyhow, there's a Doctor Thingummy
round the corner. I calls 'im Thingummy be-
cause 'e 'as a foreign name, and I don't 'old with
foreign names. Not since that there war. I
up'olds the Law myself, but wot I says is, 'When
an Englishman sees a foreigner he ort ter bash
'im in the eye,' I don't care who he is—".
"Well, perhaps Dr. Thingummy only sounds
foreign,” the young man suggested. “Anyhow,
we'll give him a call. What time is it?".
"About midnight.”
"In that case," the young man reflected, "I


14 ROGUES & COMPANY
fancy that we shall be the bashed ones-bashed
and abashed, you know." He chuckled encour-
agingly, but his companion remained unmoved.
“However, anything is better than the lock-up and
the cold stone of Mr. Smedley's steps. Lead on,
Macduff.”
"Look here, young feller, if you start calling
names"
"I'm not. I'm quoting. I can't remember
what from-Bible probably. Anyhow, absolutely
respectable. Wouldn't insult you for the world.
Why—" he exclaimed with a rush of pathos-
"you may be my only friend, Constable."
“Well, mind out. It's as likely as not you're
under arrest, in which case anything you say will
be taken down against you."
"But I'm not a criminal.”
“Can't be sure. You couldn't swear to it your-
self.”
"Well, I don't look like one—at least I don't
feel like one."
Constable X. shook his head gloomily.
“Can't go by that. If you knew wot I knew
about criminals, you'd be surprised. There was a
feller-a nice upstanding chap, as pleasant spoken
as you please—murdered his wife, he did. “Why,
Constable,' he said to me going up to the dock, 'I
wouldn't 'urt a kitten.' And I believed 'im. But
'is wife she got on 'is nerves—she was always a


ROGUES & COMPANY 15
hummin' tunes to 'erself, and the more he asked
'er not the more she did it. And one day, right
in the middle of 'Annie Laurie,' he ups and 'its
'er over the 'ead with 'is beer-mug. Must 'ave
caught 'er on 'er soft spot, for she never 'ummed
again. But 'e swung for it, poor chap, though
the jury did put in extenuating circumstances.
No, sir, you believe me, you can't be sure of any-
one in this life-least of all yourself.”
The young man put his hand to his forehead.
“Constable, I'm a sick man. You don't want
me to faint, do you?”
“I'm only doing my dooty, sir. Bound to warn
you—":
“I know you mean it kindly," the young man
admitted humbly. “But it's all very uncomfort.
able.”
That much, at any rate, was becoming certain.
For the first few minutes his position had struck
him as entirely humorous. He had expected
each minute to bring the desired flash of illumina-
tion, but his mind had remained blank, and the
pain at the back of his head was becoming trou-
blesomely insistent. Who and what was he? He
decided that it was a great deal worse than being
born again, because of the additional unpleasant-
ness of knowing beforehand all the awful condi-
tions into which one might be flung by a reckless
and indiscriminating Fate. He might be a Duke


16
ROGUES & COMPANY
ce
-he hoped he was—but he felt his appearance
was against him. He might be what his clothes
suggested, which was intolerable. He might be
married, and his wife might be At this point
the possibilities nearly overcame him, and he was
thankful for the tonic effect of the Constable's
grip upon his arm.
"Hear that, sir?”.
"Sounds like someone running," the derelict ad-
mitted. “Someone looking for me, no doubt—"
The next instant an extraordinary apparition
tore round the corner of the street and was re-
ceived full in Constable X.'s genially outstretched
arms. The constable rose to the situation with
the same sangfroid that he had displayed earlier
in the evening.
"So there you are!” he said. “Got you,
'ave I ?"
His capture showed no intelligent appreciation
of the Constable's smartness. He broke into an
incoherent torrent of bad language and, disengag-
ing himself with a dexterous twist, revealed him-
self as a little dark man, of marked Hebraic de-
scent, in a dressing-gown, bed-room slippers and
an ungovernable temper.
"You jackass-never anywhere where you're
wanted—deaf as a door-post-didn't you hear my
whistle? What's the good of whistling if you
don't listen? My house-broken into—all my


ROGUES & COMPANY
17
silver gone—and you stand there—like a-like
a—” He ran his fingers through his long black
hair till it stood straight on end, adding a com-
ically devilish touch to his unusual appearance.
“My God—this country!" he exclaimed finally, as
though overwhelmed by some culminating griev-
ance. "My God!"
"Now don't you go getting abusive," the Con-
stable warned him coldly. "If you've 'ad bur-
glars, we'll see after 'em all in good time.” Then
with a wink at his first captive, he remarked in a
stage whisper—"That's 'im!"
This cryptic observation drew the new-comer's
attention to the presence of a third person. He
swung round and stared at the young man with
his hands thrust deep in the pockets of his dress-
ing-gown.
"So you did catch him. Your prisoner, eh ?”
Constable X. scratched his chin.
“ 'E is and 'e isn't," he explained. “'E's
mad."
The doctor's manner changed instantly. He
drew out a pair of tortoise-shell-rimmed spec-
tacles, adjusted them on the bridge of his thick
nose and considered the young man with a dis-
passionate interest, which seemed as out of place
as the purple dressing-gown.
“Mad?” he said. “Rubbish. What does an


18
ROGUES & COMPANY
OV
idiot like you know about madness? Don't talk
nonsense."
"Thank you," the young man interjected
warmly. "I felt sure that our friend here had
overstated my case. I'm not exactly mad-at
least, I hope not. But I don't know who I am.
In fact, I've lost my memory—".
“Rubbish! There isn't such a thing. You
can't lose your memory. You can hide it, you can
suppress it, you can put it away and turn a key
on it, but you can't lose it. If I told you what I
knew about memory, I should be standing here till
to-morrow morning and then you wouldn't have
understood half I said. But though you express
yourself inaccurately, I recognise your condition.
It is not uncommon, but, to a certain degree, it is
interesting—”
"—and uncomfortable.”
“Possibly—for you. That”-he wagged a
long reproving finger in the young man's face-
"that, sir, is where the scientific and the untrained
mind differ. You are concerned with trivial per-
sonalities, I with large issues, with cause and effect
and the relation of one phenomenon to another.
You, frankly, consider your identity as the main
consideration. To me it is not of the slightest
importance. How long have you been in this
state ?"


ROGUES & COMPANY 19
"I don't know. The Constable here found me
on a doorstep about half an hour ago."
“Very brilliant of him. And you have nothing
on your person—no obvious clue-".
"Nothing. I haven't even a brass-farthing.
That's what's worrying me chiefly. You see,
doctor "
"Frohlocken, psycho-analyst,” the doctor inter-
rupted with a slight bow.
"Thank you. I'm sorry that for obvious rea-
sons I cannot introduce myself. Well, doctor, I
want your help, but as I've already mentioned I
am penniless and for all I know I may remain so
and I feel—”
“That,” said the doctor, “is a second illustra-
tion of my point. In the very midst of what no
doubt to you seems a catastrophe, your mind turns
to money. What in God's name do you suppose
I care about your money? You interest me.
Microbes interest me. Do you think I request
a newly discovered germ to pay me consulting
fees? Don't be a fool.”
The young man smiled ruefully.
"Well, thank Heaven I've got a value even if
I haven't got an identity," he said. “May I
count then upon your assistance? Without it I'm
afraid I shall have to accompany our friend here
to the police-station. It's the only invitation I've
had so far,"


20 ROGUES & COMPANY
The doctor's answer was to take the young man
by the arm and lead him by long, unhurried strides
down the street whence he had come. Burglars,
policemen, and stolen silver alike seemed to have
been swept from his memory. But Constable X.,
not to be forgotten, ponderously brought up the
rear. Five houses down the trio came upon an
open door, at the moment blocked by a small
crowd of excited domestics, scantily attired and
armed with pokers, who welcomed their appear-
ance with a murmur of triumph. The young man
held back.
"Obviously they take me for your burglar," he
said. "It would be perhaps better if you ex-
plained "
"Rubbish,” said the doctor firmly. He bustled
his patient up the steps, and a person whom the
latter judged by his waistcoat to be a butler—the
rest of his costume was unrecognisable—made a
fierce clutch at the supposed captive. Dr. Froh-
locken warded off the attack with a sweep of the
arm.
"Don't be a fool, James! You've done enough
stupid things for one evening. Go to bed, the lot
of you. This gentleman is my patient. Come
in, sir, come in.”
“Look 'ere,” said Constable X. from the door.
step.
Dr. Frohlocken looked.


ROGUES & COMPANY 21
"Well? What at?"
"Look 'ere," the Law repeated undeterred,
“that's my man, if you don't mind, sir."
“Your man? Is this a slave-country? What
right have you to call him your man?”.
A shadow of bitter disappointment stole over
the Constable's round red face.
"I found 'im," he said.
“Suppose you did? What do you want to do
with him? Take him to the Lost Property Office
as though he were an umbrella? My God—and
you call this a civilised country? Go away with
you
"
"Well, wot about them burglars and the silver
wot they took ?” Constable X. persisted dog-
gedly.
The doctor pressed his finger to his nose.
“Damn your burglars and your silver too,” he
said. He slammed the door in the aggrieved
face. "That," he said, “is the lowest example
of the type of mind that governs this unfortunate
country. Entirely concerned with obvious and
insignificant trivialities. Utterly untrained. But
for me he would actually have taken you to the
police-station. God knows what damage they
would have done between them. As it is, there
is every reason to hope—"
"—that I shall remember, you mean?”
Dr. Frohlocken shrugged his sloping shoulders.


22 ROGUES & COMPANY
“My dear sir, you have not forgotten. For
reasons of which we are at present ignorant you
are hiding your identity in your subconscious
mind. When we have discovered and removed
the cause of your action you will, as you would
inaccurately express it, recover your memory.
That is the whole business in a nutshell. In the
meantime you must sleep. You have had some
mental shock. You are suffering from a severe
nervous strain—".
• “I feel,” the young man interrupted, “as
though someone had hit me over the head with
a brick-bat,"
“An illusionary sensation, no doubt, an effort
of the mind to give a misleading cause for your
condition. I have several similar cases on my
hands. Yours indeed is the seventh. You won't
object to my calling you No. 7, I hope? It will
simplify matters, and for the moment you will
find it a relief yourself to be something definite."
"Thank you," said the young man. “I feel
that already. When I start worrying I shall
say, "That's all right. You're Dr. Frohlocken's
No. 7. I daresay it's quite as good as my own
name.”
“Better, no doubt,” the doctor agreed.
He opened a side-door and led the way into a
plainly yet comfortably furnished room. A sofa
was drawn up invitingly to the still glowing fire.


ROGUES & COMPANY 23
The walls were lined with books and shelves on
which reposed glass cases and jars full of a yel-
lowish liquid in which floated repellant lumps of
grey matter. Dr. Frohlocken indicated one of
these in passing.
"My first patient. Sir Augustus Smythe. Suf-
fered from delusions, poor fellow. Fancied that
water was poison to him. The fossil who called
himself the family doctor talked about tumours
on the brain and hereditary dipsomania and God
knows what rubbish. The poor fellow came to
me in desperation. I was just getting at the real
trouble—a simple matter of a suppressed com-
plex in connection with a stepmother whom he
disliked in early youth-when the poor fellow
died. Yes, delirium tremens. Very disappoint-
ing case. The wife presented me with a portion
of his brain as a sign of gratitude. No tumour,
of course. Utter rubbish. You can see for your-
self."
"Thank you,” said No. 7. "Tomorrow per-
haps/"
"Certainly. I am merely diverting your mind
from your own troubles. Now if you will lie
down I will cover you over with a rug and in five
minutes you will be asleep.”
“I'm afraid not,” No. 7 objected. “I feel hor-
ribly awake and my head hurts."
He stopped, aware that Dr. Frohlocken was


24
ROGUES & COMPANY
not listening. It was further borne in upon him
that as a personality he had no real existence in
the latter's eyes and that he was there simply as
a disease which hadn't the ghost of a chance of
survival. Already he felt the hopelessness of re-
sistance. He was to lie down and go to sleep.
He lay down and he had a rather horrible sus-
picion that he was already sleepy. The firelight
was growing dim. His bottled predecessors faded
from their shelves. There seemed to be nothing
definite but the dark, unsmiling face with the black
eyes staring at him through enormous aureoles of
tortoise-shell. They grew larger and larger.
They seemed to be swallowing him up bit by bit.
And his head with its aches and anxieties was the
first to go.
"I suppose—even a microbe-may be grate-
ful—"No. 7 murmured.
"In five minutes” Dr. Frohlocken said.
He laid his hand on No. 7 and pushed him
gently into darkness.


CHAPTER II
The wintry morning sunshine had already be-
gun to show through the window when the butler
tiptoed into the library. He carried a laden
breakfast-tray which he placed quietly on the ta-
ble beside the sofa and then stood gazing severely
at the man who lay there asleep. Once or twice
he shook his head with that expression of aloof
disparagement peculiar to his class, then, warned
by a faint flutter of the sleeper's eyelids, he began
a discreet but busy clatter with the tea-things.
The man on the sofa stretched himself and
yawned.
“Morning!” he said sleepily.
The butler apparently did not hear the greeting
and No. 7 opened his eyes wide. He looked
about him and his expression of peaceful content
gave place to one of disappointment. He rubbed
his hand over his dark head and sighed.
"I'm just where I was before," he said.
“Yes—sir,” said the butler. The “sir" came
with an effort, but it came. No. 7 drew himself
up and received his cup with resignation.
"Well, I suppose it can't be helped,” he said.
"I really hoped I'd sleep it off though. By the


26
ROGUES & COMPANY
way, you had rather a disturbed night yourself,
didn't you?”
“Yes, sir."
"Did you see your nocturnal visitor?" No. 7
enquired with gracious interest.
"I did, sir."
There was something about the man's manner
which was distinctly unsatisfactory. It implied
unutterable things. In its self-contained way it
was inimical. And No. 7, in his lonely friend.
less state could not bear it. Moreover he was
under the necessity of proving to himself that he
had handled butlers before. He held the man
under a steady eye.
"If you saw him,” he said, "then I suppose you
could easily identify him?” The butler handed
the toast.
"I'm afraid not, sir. He wore a mask.”
“But you saw his dress and figure?"
“Yes, sir. He was about your size, sir, and
his clothes were checked—as far as I could see-
a sort of dirty brown colour."
“Oh!” No. 7 drew his rug up to his chin. But
he knew by the slant of the butler's eye that he
had seen and he suspected the description to have
been a piece of pure malice. "Scarcely enough
for purposes of identification," he observed.
The butler passed he butter. His features
were expressionless.


ROGUES & COMPANY
27
"No, sir, I suppose not.”
This was no better. No. 7 felt thwarted. He
put his hand to his collar with a movement that
seemed habitual. It was disconcerting to find
that the collar was missing.
“Any clue been found?” he asked, to cover his
confusion.
"No, sir—but the silver.”
“Oh-indeed?”
“Yes, sir_down an area.”
“Very fortunate."
“Yes, sir."
By this time the butler had finished his arrange-
ments and placed the morning-paper on the table.
"You'll find an account of it all in there, sir,"
he said.
"What-already?”
“There was a journalist fellow here last night,
sir. He seemed to know more about it all than
anyone." The butler's face lit up with a Aash
of bitter humour which made him seem more hu-
man. No. 7 felt encouraged. Perhaps, after
all, they might be friends. It was a case for a
discreet mixture of tact and frankness.
"By the way, what's your name?” he asked
graciously as the butler reached the door.
"James, sir."
"Well, James, I think it better to inform you
my reason for being here. ' In this-eh-un-


28
ROGUES & COMPANY
usual state. I am Dr. Frohlocken's patient-
nervous shock, you know, followed by complete
loss of memory."
"Very good, sir."
The butler's tone suggested a discreet accept-
ance of a more than doubtful explanation, and
as the door closed No. 7 sank back among his
cushions. He had excused himself. And there
was a beastly French adage about people who ex-
cused themselves, even he could remember that.
Besides, it was evident that in good society one
does not explain things—even the most extraor-
dinary—to the butler. His belief in himself be-
gan to fade.
More to change the unpleasant trend of his
thoughts than out of real interest he took up the
paper and opened it. Judging from the first sheet
which was black with startling headings, Dr.
Frohlocken liked his news served up in a well-
spiced form. Sandwiched between a horrible
murder and the latest society scandal, the patient
discovered "a daring burglary—heroic conduct of
a butler" which he recognized at once as the one
in which Dr. Frohlocken's silver had been so
closely concerned. The account ran as follows:
"Last night, at about twelve o'clock, the house
of the well-known specialist, Dr. Frohlocken, was
broken into and a considerable quantity of val-


ROGUES & COMPANY 29
uable silver stolen before one of the servants,
roused by the suspicious noise, gave the alarm.
Great courage and presence of mind was displayed
by the butler who pluckily attacked the intruder.
The latter however succeeded in making good his
escape. At the time of going to press no trace
of him had been found. The police believe,
judging from the manner in which the robbery
was carried out, that the burglar and the noto-
rious William Brown, alias Slippery Bill, are
identical. It will be remembered that Brown has
been connected with the most cunning and daring
swindles and burglaries, but his capture has been
made extremely difficult by the fact that only his
most intimate accomplices know what he really
looks like. His disguises are as many as they are
complete. Thanks to a gentlemanly appearance
and manner, he has imposed upon his victims as a
millionaire, nobleman, clergyman, as well as other
less distinguished persons, and many legends are
told concerning his cunning. A former accom-
plice, who turned King's evidence in the last case,
gave evidence that Brown always carried a small
charm fastened to the inside of his coat which
served both as a luck-bringer and a means of re-
vealing himself to his accomplices. This charm,
a small gold pig, popularly known as a lucky pig,
should prove useful as a mark of identity when the


30
ROGUES & COMPANY
time comes, but for the present the owner has dis-
appeared with his usual completeness.”
Here followed further details concerning "Slip-
pery Bill's” career which were not sufficiently inter-
esting to attract the reader's thoughts from him-
self. The mere word “identity" had awakened in
him the recollection of his own unhappy state, and
he fell back with a sigh of despair. This Smith,
this rogue had an identity and he had none-not
even a bad one. To all intents and purposes he
was nothing but a mere derelict on a wide, un-
known sea, without flag, without helm, without
anchor. It was very tragic, very pathetic, and his
imagination, taking the bit between his teeth, car-
ried him into scenes both probable and improb-
able. He imagined in turn an adoring mother,
an adoring bride, an adoring wife, waiting in vain
for the son or, respectively, the fiancé or husband
who never returned. He came to the conclusion
that he must be an affectionate and tender-hearted
man, for he felt profoundly moved at the thought
of the possible pain he might be inflicting. He
grew desperate. Was there no means of unrav-
elling the mystery which surrounded his life, noth-
ing about him which might awaken memory or
give some clue as to his previous existence ?
With a quick glance round the room, to make
sure that James was not watching, he threw off


ROGUES & COMPANY 31
the big rug and examined himself from head to
foot. The result was not gratifying. His boots
were shapeless and ill-fitting and the same could
be said of his trousers, which, what with their
pattern and the recent rent in the knee, were the
last thing in disreputableness. Anxiously, he
plunged his hands first into one pocket and then
into another, but without any better result than
on the first occasion. They were perfectly empty.
He patted the side-pocket, the waistcoat—noth-
ing. His hand glided over the breast and there
stopped suddenly as though it had been seized by
a vise. Half paralysed he withdrew his hand
and looked at it. Then his jaw dropped. There,
between finger and thumb, was a small golden
object-a ridiculous thing with a minute curly
tail and impossible eyes and a slight but ghastly
resemblance to a pig. No. 7 lurched to his feet.
He staggered to the looking-glass. He saw there
a pleasant and even good-looking young man with
a short dark moustache and eyes which in a nor-
mal state must have been both humorous and
frank. At that moment, however, they were wide
open with an expression of almost delirious con-
sternation. No. 7 raised a trembling hand to his
moustache and tugged it vigorously. The result
proved it genuine. He tweaked the dark, disor-
dered hair-no wig revealed itself. He groaned
aloud. This then was William Brown—this was


32
ROGUES & COMPANY
the real man. He was neither a duke nor a mil-
lionaire nor even a respectable loafer—but a no-
torious swindler, a thief, a rogue. He had stolen
the silver of his own host, had preyed upon the
weakness and credulity of his fellow-creatures.
He was called "Slippery Bill.” The last horrible
item weighed more upon him than all the others
put together. If it had been “Roving Robert"
or “Daring Dick," he would have borne it better;
but “Slippery Bill" lacked the commonest element
of romance as completely as did William Brown.
Both names were vulgar-as vulgar as his clothes,
and one, at least, sounded as disreputable as his
past reputation. He looked at the terrible dis-
covery lying in the palm of his hand. It seemed
to him that the beady eyes twinkled and that there
was something malicious and insulting in the twist
of the curly tail. Visions of rejoicing mothers
and brides and wives vanished. He saw himself
in the dock-sentenced for offences he couldn't
even remember; he saw himself “doing time”; he
heard the tread of approaching footsteps—the
footsteps of an avenging Nemesis; he heard the
door open. Involuntarily he turned, prepared to
face the worst, the perspiration breaking out in
great beads upon his forehead. But it was only
Dr. Frohlocken who gazed at him with a grim
displeasure.
"You've been thinking about yourself,” he said


ROGUES & COMPANY
33
crossly. “I told you not to. But I was not in
form. It shows how the most disciplined brain
can become unbalanced. At any rate you slept
well?”
"Excellently."
"Did you dream?"
"Not a thing."
"Rubbish. However, it's no use expecting any-
thing from a mind that has not learnt to contem-
plate itself dispassionately. Sit down."
No. 7 sat down. He tried to do so with an
air of independence, but his recently acquired
knowledge had cowed him to such an extent that
he would have stood on his head with equal docil-
ity. Dr. Frohlocken sat down opposite him.
Except that the lurid dressing-gown had given
place to an old-fashioned frock-coat, his appear-
ance had not changed. His black hair still stood
on end and, for some reason or other, he was still
in a very bad temper. After a moment's intense
silence, during which he stared at his patient un-
blinkingly, he produced a newspaper which he
spread out over his knees, keeping his long finger
on a particular paragraph and referring to it
constantly throughout the interview.
It was a situation calculated to try the strong-
est nerves. The self-discovered William Brown
could only set his teeth and endeavour to bear
himself to some extent as became a man of his


34
ROGUES & COMPANY
reputation. Highwaymen, he remembered, went
to the gallows with a jest. Slippery Bill should
at least not cringe openly.
“I suppose you still want to know who you
are?" Dr. Frohlocken began at length. "I pre-
sume, judging from my observation of ordinary
mentality, that you would prefer to be recognised,
externally, if I may so express myself. The
desire to get to the top of a mountain without
climbing it is one of the most discouraging
symptoms of our times"
"If you mean,” William Brown interrupted,
"that I want you to find out who I am, really I
can't say that I do. You see, I've been thinking
it over. After all, you know, it's rather an in-
teresting experiment—this starting all over again.
Who knows-perhaps I shan't like my old self
at all.”
"That,” said Dr. Frohlocken, referring discon-
certingly to the paragraph, "is extremely likely.
However, the matter is not in our hands. I fore-
see that interfering busybodies will make a rea-
sonable and logical process in this matter impos-
sible. In other words, No. 7, I fear that you are
already discovered."
No. 7 felt for a pocket-handkerchief that was
not there.
"It's not cricket," he said, with passion. "I
don't see why I should have a personality thrust


ROGUES & COMPANY 35
upon me that I don't recognise. I repudiate it.
Why, I don't remember a thing the fellow did.
I might disapprove horribly and yet I should be
blamed. I should be held responsible ".
"Exactly." For the first time Dr. Frohlocken
looked at him with approval. "I see that you
have some glimmerings of my own idea. It's
childish to start at the end. The only sensible
method is for you to return to your normal con-
sciousness by normal means. That was what I
had intended. Unfortunately it is a delicate and
lengthy process and the time at our disposal is
very limited. The best that I can do for you is to
set you on the road. Are you prepared to an-
swer my questions fully and frankly?”
"But," said William Brown bitterly, “I tell
you I don't remember—it's not fair."
"One moment. You say that you do not re-
member. Yet if I asked you to tell me some of
the dreams you have dreamed in your other life
you will no doubt be able to furnish me with sev-
eral examples. Come now!"
This seemed innocent enough. Dreams were
idiotic things. No one could be held responsible
for them. And it certainly was odd that he did
remember-
"Well, of course, I suppose I dreamed the
usual stuff-the kind of thing everybody dreams."
“As, for instance "


36 ROGUES & COMPANY
"Well, walking down Bond Street in one's
pyjamas".
“As you say—common-quite common—"
"Falling over precipices—chased by locomo-
tives-climbing spiral staircases".
Dr. Frohlocken glanced up over his glasses.
"I might suggest," he said, "that in these days
it is not wise to relate one's dreams in public.
But that is quite by the way. Is there nothing
significant or outstanding that you can remem-
ber?"
1. "Nothing," said William Brown firmly.
"Then allow me to test your reactions." He
took a very modern watch from his old-fashioned
waist-coat pocket and set it on his knee. "I shall
give you a string of words and I wish you to re-
spond promptly with whatever they suggest to
you. For example—“Drink?"
"Whisky."
"You see. You get the idea. Butter?"
“Margarine."
“Meat?"
“Coupons.”
"Locks?"
William Brown faltered — "Lock-up" and
"prison" had suggested themselves instantly. He .
suppressed them. Dr. Frohlocken was obviously
counting the seconds. He plunged
“Safes.”


ROGUES & COMPANY 37
"Sea ?"
“America."
“Career?"
“Criminal-" This would not do at all. He
felt he had been trapped—led into a bog in which
he was slithering hopelessly.
"Pig," said Dr. Frohlocken unexpectedly.
Thereat William Brown's mind simply refused
to function. It stopped dead. He sat there with
his mouth open, the perspiration gathering on his
forehead, whilst Dr. Frohlocken counted the sec-
onds. It was devilish. There were Heaven
knew how many thousand words in the English
language. Not one of them came to him. But
before his glazing eyes a monstrous thing had be-
gun to shape itself—a golden horror with beady
staring eyes and a grotesque tail-
“A distinct result," Dr. Frohlocken was saying
gleefully; "in the short space of five minutes we
have touched on two definite suppressions. I
have not the slightest doubt-No. 7-".
His voice faded. William Brown heard a tele-
phone clanging in the distance. Ever afterwards
he believed that he fainted, for he remembered
nothing further until a hand was laid on his
shoulder with a galvanising horrible familiarity.
"It's as I feared,” Dr. Frohlocken said.
"Thanks to that damn Constable, they're on your
track already. I'm sorry. I would like to have


38 ROGUES & COMPANY
:
prepared you better. You will now have to en
dure the methods of ordinary unscientific investi-
gation. The best I can do for you is to see that
you meet this fellow in a more presentable condi-
tion. If you go into the next room, you will find
a bath prepared and a change of clothes. No,
they are not my clothes. They belonged to my
last patient. Threw himself out of the window,
poor fellow. In your terminology, he'd lost his
memory for five years. Oh, yes, he was cured.
Wonderful case. But when he recognised his
family he killed himself. Very sad. However,
I think they'll fit you "
No. 7 held his ground. He was aware of a
horrible internal upheaval. Something enormous
was happening to him. Out of the depths, as it
were, Slippery showed himself for the first time.
He leered. He whispered. He nudged.
“You're caught, old bird. Of course he knows
who you are. He's sent for the police. Bash
him over the head and make a bolt for it. It's
your only chance".
"I can't,” No. 7 argued desperately. “It isn't
fair. I've stolen his silver, I've abused his hos-
pitality, but there is a limit "
"Stow it, old bird. You're a scoundrel and you
know it. None of that pi'-stuff—".
Physically he swayed before the storm. Dr.
Frohlocken took him kindly by the arm.


ROGUES & COMPANY 39
“When you are ready,” he said, “I shall have
further news for you. Mind you, I disapprove
entirely. I consider the whole business outra-
geous. I told them so. It's that damn Con-
stable. When a reward of £1000 is offered you
can't expect an intellect like that to work scien-
tifically. In fact I doubt if that Constable has an
intellect at all probably he is a mere instinct.
Anyhow, there it is. I can only hope that their
methods will not be too much of a shock to you."
“That's the sort of sense of fun he's got,"
Slippery Bill urged, insidiously. “Guying you,
that's what he is. Give him one on the bean."
The advice was obviously sound. That No. 7
did not follow it, but slunk tamely into the bath-
room, was due to the fact that he was hopelessly
handicapped. He might be otherwise a scoun-
drel, but he had become a scoundrel with a con-
science. It was an impossible situation. True,
his better-half enjoyed the bath, but the realisa-
tion that he had the instincts and even the appear-
ance of a gentleman-Dr. Frohlocken's late pa-
tient must have had an excellent taste in suiting,
and the glass revealed an agreeable young man
with that correct bearing which is erroneously
supposed to go with a blameless life did not re-
assure him. Not for nothing had William Brown
impersonated dukes and millionaires with impu-
nity. And then there was the Lucky Pig. He


40
ROGUES & COMPANY
held it in the palm of his hand and considered it
reproachfully. Its expression of idiotic compla-
cency irritated him. He could not help feeling
that its influence was bad and that it had led him
astray in his early youth when a mother's care
might have put him on the right path, which leads
to public funerals and other rewards of virtue.
He fully intended to hurl it through the window,
but a second impulse, born of superstition, pre-
vented him and, instead, he slipped the creature
into his pocket. After all, if he really were Wil.
liam Brown, it was sheer folly to throw away
something which had been instrumental in getting
him out of tight places.
And this was a tight place. He wanted all the
luck he could lay hands on.
No. 7 went back to Dr. Frohlocken's library
with the courage which accompanies a compara-
tively new suit of clothes. But on the threshold
he faltered. Dr. Frohlocken was no longer alone.
There was Constable X., helmet in hand, and
looking as though he were in church, and a second
individual, dressed like a Man-in-the-Street. He
was perhaps a trifle too clean-shaven and his dress
perhaps a trifle too unobtrusive. He looked to
No. 7 horribly like a detective in disguise. Dr.
Frohlocken indicated him with a rude forefinger.
"That,” he said, "is Inspector Smythe from
Scotland Yard.”


ROGUES & COMPANY 41
Inspector Smythe jerked his head at Con-
stable X.
"That him?"
"That's 'im, sir."
"Inspector Smythe takes a great interest in you,
No. 7," Dr. Frohlocken added with the obvious
desire to be insulting. "£1000 is a nice little sum,
eh, Inspector?"
No. 7 sat down because he could not stand, and
the two men stared at him, the Doctor with a
gloomy sympathy, the Inspector with an almost
hungry eagerness. Constable X. had ceased al-
together to be human. No. 7 had hated Inspector
Smythe on sight. Probably the dislike was inher-
ited from his other self which at that moment
predominated wholly. The desire to "do” his
enemy at all costs had sent the last remnants of
a conscience in full retreat. He set his teeth and
waited.
Inspector Smythe got up. He inspected No. 7
from different angles. He had a little note to
which he referred, making marks against various
items, after the fashion of a man checking an
inventory.
"So you're the gentleman who's lost his mem-
ory?” he remarked, finally. “Don't know who
you are, eh?”
No. 7 felt there was malice in the question-
the sort of playful facetiousness for which the


42
ROGUES & COMPANY
police are noted. He bowed coldly. Inspector
Smythe sniped him from another corner.
“Read the morning's paper yet, sir ?".
“I have."
"Nothing in it to strike your memory, eh?”.
No. 7 realised that the end was very near.
Too late he saw how good Slippery Bill's advice
had been. The odds were now three to one-
supposing the Doctor came to the Inspector's as-
sistance, which, from his expression, was doubt-
ful. Constable X. blocked the window effectively,
and No. 7 had a shrewd if unreasoned suspicion
that James was at the key-hole. He slipped his
hand into his pocket and finding the Pig still there
clung to it.
"Nothing."
"Humph. Well, we'll see what we can do, eh,
Doctor?"
Dr. Frohlocken ran his hand through his black
hair.
"Idiot!" he said distinctly.
The Inspector smiled. He fluttered an eyelid
in No. 7's direction. It was evident he expected
the latter to appreciate the joke.
“Our friend here doesn't think much of our
methods—but we police have our little successes
too sometimes. I wouldn't mind laying a bet with
you, Doctor, that our friend here will soon be tell-
ing us all about himself. Now, sir, one moment.


ROGUES & COMPANY
43
an
When you found yourself on the doorstep, what
was your first sensation ?”
"Well, I wondered how the deuce I'd got
there?”
“You were surprised?”.
“Very."
“Did anything else surprise you?”
"My clothes,”
“Unfamiliar, eh?”
“Distinctly."
“Feel more natural now?".
"Better, at any rate.”
Inspector Smythe nodded with satisfaction.
He came closer to his victim. His bright gimlet
eyes were fixed apparently on No. 7's neck.
"Found nothing on your person to identify
you, eh?”
No. 7 gulped.
"Nothing."
Obviously he would be searched. And the first
and only thing that they would find was Slippery
Bill's mascot. He considered hurriedly whether
it would be better to stuff it down the back of his
chair or to swallow it whole. The latter method
occurred to him in the form of a gloomy pun-
"swallowing a pig to save his bacon”—but it
brought him no comfort. For one thing he had
to keep it to himself, for another it seemed to
point to a hopeless depravity; and for another


44 ROGUES & COMPANY
it was obviously impossible to swallow anything
without detection.
In the midst of his terrible indecision the In-
spector seized his head and pressed it with a vig-
our which wrung from him a groan of protest.
"Hurts, eh?”
There was, it seemed, something incriminating
about the head. No. 7 temporised.
"Well-it certainly seems to—'
"No wonder. You've got a bump there as big
as my fist."
"A natural one?”
The Inspector grinned.
“If a man hits you on the back of the head and
a bump follows, you'd call it natural, wouldn't
you?"
No. 7 supposed he would.
"Have I been hit on the back of the head?” he
asked.
“You have had an accident.” The Inspector
wagged his pencil at the Doctor. "How does that
strike you, eh, sir?"
Dr. Frohlocken sneered.
"You are no doubt doing your best according
to your lights. The probability that you are
about to wreck my patient's mental balance for
ever is of course an insignificant detail. Pray
go on."
The Inspector accepted the invitation. He sat


ROGUES & COMPANY 45
down again, to No. 7's infinite relief, and referred
back to his note-book.
"Now, sir," he said. "I want you to follow
me with the closest attention. You have lost your
memory, but I am certain, in spite of our friend
here, that by suggesting certain episodes of your
past life to you we shall effect an immediate cure.
You get the idea, don't you?”
No. 7 assented. He wondered which episode
from Slippery Bill's career the Inspector had se-
lected and hoped vaguely that he had never mur-
dered anyone. Inspector Smythe put his pencil
thoughtfully to his nose.
“Imagine a big steamer," he began slowly. "A
well-dressed young man is lounging on a deck
chair. Possibly he has a French novel on his
knee, and is smoking a cigarette. But his thoughts
are elsewhere. He is thinking of someone whom
he is going to meet-a certain lady who is waiting
for him in England. The prospect pleases him.
He enquires of a passing officer what speed the
ship is making. One moment, please. Has any-
thing come back to you ?”.
Dr. Frohlocken gave vent to a laugh such as
might come from a disgusted hyena. No. 7 wa-
vered. As far as he knew there was nothing
criminal in these recollections. But one never
knew. It would have been easier if he had known
what sort of man Slippery Bill really was.
ras.


46 ROGUES & COMPANY
"It seems-a-sort of glimmering—" he mur-
mured.
"Humph. I thought so. Now listen. There
is a storm. For three days the steamer is tossed
about—a hopeless derelict—then stranded. Most
of the crew and passengers are drowned—others
fatally injured in the vessel. The young man, of
whom I have been speaking, is saved and taken
to a hospital. From thence he manages to write
to his friend that she should come to him. Ha-
how's that?"
"It certainly seems to be getting clearer,” No. 7
agreed. If he had never been at sea before, he
was there now. There was nothing for it but to
continue with his half admissions.
The Inspector smiled pleasantly in the Doctor's
direction.
"You see. The power of suggestion. Not so
unscientific as you thought, eh, Doctor? Well,
sometimes a little bit of horse sense goes a long
way. Allow me now to give you the brief his-
tory of this young man.” He turned back to his
note-book and began to read in a loud monotone:
“Count Louis de Beaulieu, son of the late
François de Beaulieu, of no address, and of his
wife, the late Countess de Beaulieu, née, Lady
Caroline Sudleigh of Sudleigh Court. Born
1890. Is known to have been travelling round
the world and to have embarked on the 'Melita'


ROGUES & COMPANY 47
at Gibraltar in order to return to England where
an estate had been left him by his maternal grand-
father. “Melita' wrecked off the English coast
and all hands lost except Count Louis who was
injured on the head by a floating spar and taken
to the nearest hospital. Two days ago disap-
peared whilst nurses changed duty. Nurse testi-
fies to his having written and received letters and
to have talked in delirium of his fiancée. Can
give no details, as was too busy at the time to pay
much attention, but describes the patient as being
dark and good-looking."
The Inspector glanced reassuringly at No. 7,
who blushed. The Doctor repeated his unpleas-
ant laugh.
“That settles it, of course. My God—this
country—!"
"One moment, please.” The Inspector
snapped his note-book. “Do you speak French ?”
he asked, slowly.
There was no evading this. And he was in
such deep water that another fathom or two
scarcely mattered.
"I do," he said firmly.
"Parlez-vous français ?” demanded the Inspec-
tor, with increased solemnity.
No. 7 smiled. Somewhere at the back of his
mind he had discovered a rescuing fragment.
“Mais certainement," he said.


48 ROGUES & COMPANY
"That, I think," said the Inspector, "settles it.
And it gives me the greatest satisfaction," he
added pointedly, "to have been the means of iden-
tifying you, Count.” He produced the title with
the gesture of an actor who knows he has effected
an artistic and striking curtain. No. 7 rose slowly
to his feet. Whatever other social positions he
had arrogated to himself in his murky past this
one, at least, was being thrust upon him.
“Do you mean—I am the Count?” he stam-
mered.
The Inspector bowed.
“There is, in my mind, no doubt of it."
"He's going to faint!" Dr. Frohlocken
burst out furiously. "And I don't wonder. If
he dies, or goes mad I wash my hands of the
whole business. I never heard of such methods
-such damned folly—".
No. 7 had, in fact, caught hold of the chair
back for support. The shock had been too sudden.
His outraged and absurd conscience, stung to a
last desperate resistance, struggled against the lies
and deceptions in which he was being involved.
Beautiful women, rich young foreigners, steam-
ers, wrecks and untold wealth broke over him in
an avalanche. He tried to explain—to deny—to
confess. He went so far as to put his hand to his
pocket to produce the fatal and damning Pig-
then he caught sight of Constable X.'s face and


ROGUES & COMPANY
desisted. That officer's expression of hungry de-
sire to arrest someone chilled No. 7's nobler im-
pulse. He gave his conscience the coup de grâce
and the Pig slid back into its hiding place.
"I accept the identification," he said. “I may
be out of practice but I shall endeavour to fill my
position worthily."
Dr. Frohlocken snorted with disgust, but Slip-
pery Bill was heard to applaud warmly from the
depths.


CHAPTER III
DURING the next forty-eight hours Monsieur
de Beaulieu, of innumerable aliases, scarcely
knew whom he disliked most of the three people
amongst whom circumstances forced him to move
and have his being. Had they regarded him as
a fellow creature in distress he might have liked
them well enough—even James had his relenting
moments, and the Inspector was of a refreshing
hopefulness—but to them he was not a human
being at all, but an Object, to James an Object of
suspicion, to the Doctor an Object of Scientific
Interest and to the Inspector a matter of a thou-
sand pounds hard cash. All three were out to
prove something at his expense, James that he
wasn't what he seemed, the Inspector that he was
what he wanted him to be, and the Doctor that the
Inspector was an outrageous ass. Of the three
the Doctor was undoubtedly the most dangerous.
The Inspector at least played a straightforward
game and at the worst he could only produce evi-
dence from the outside against which Monsieur
de Beaulieu could defend himself with some pos-
sibility of success. But Dr. Frohlocken was out


ROGUES & COMPANY
for King's evidence. And the victim was to give
evidence against himself.
"It doesn't matter what you are," was one of
the Doctor's most disturbing dicta, “it's what you
think you are that matters."
And his methods savoured of a perpetual
Third Degree. By this time his patient had ob-
tained a general and very unfavourable concep-
tion of the Doctor's theories. Life wasn't the
relatively simple business he had supposed. It
was an appearance, a disguise cloaking unspeak-
able possibilities. Nothing you did was innocent
or insignificant. Everything pointed to something.
The way you sneezed, the way you cut your bread
and butter, your likes and dislikes, your harmless
little idiosyncrasies were all symptoms-usually
of something highly discreditable. As to dreams,
Monsieur de Beaulieu learnt to lie about them
after his second night. From thence on he in-
vented them, but with very little success—a
charming idyllic scene in which angels and heav-
enly choirs played the chief part proving itself
to have an entirely unsuspected significance.
Under these circumstances it was impossible to
know when and how the lurking Slippery Bill
might be coaxed out into the open.
On the other hand, Monsieur de Beaulieu was
steadying to his part. He was getting back some-
thing of the nerve which must have carried him


52
ROGUES & COMPANY
safely through other forgotten adventures. By
his fourth morning he had almost begun to enjoy
himself. The mere fact that he had genuinely
lost his memory did not trouble him at all. On
the contrary, the inability to remember his past
seemed to him a distinct professional advantage,
conducing to a sincere innocency and ignorance of
the world's ways, not to mention his own. In
fact, but for the existence of the Pig he might
honestly have believed himself a Count or any-
thing else that the Inspector had chosen to sug-
gest to him. As it was, he was able to approach
his breakfast with zest. Even the unexpectedly
early appearance of the Inspector himself did not
prevent him removing the top of his second egg
with a nice accuracy.
"I think,” Inspector Smythe said, shaking
hands firmly with the Doctor regardless of the
latter's obvious unwillingness, "I think, gentle-
men, that matters are coming to a head. Hence
this visit. I have obtained what will prove to be
conclusive evidence. Personally, I was satisfied
at once, but of course we could not expect the late
Lord Sudleigh's executors to look at it in that
way. A few more formalities, however, my dear
Count, and we shall be through.”
Dr. Frohlocken smiled satirically, but the In-
spector, who was considering Monsieur de Beau-
lieu with an almost tender solicitude, was un-


ROGUES & COMPANY 53
aware of the fact. Indeed the Count had an un-
comfortable conviction that Slippery Bill himself
could not have aroused a deeper feeling of pride
and proprietorship in the breast of his captor.
But he had no means of resisting this encroach-
ment on his freedom. When a man wears an-
other man's clothes and another man's name and
is contemplating the use of another man's money,
it is inappropriate to argue the Rights of Prop-
erty, and Monsieur de Beaulieu resigned himself
to his position and his breakfast.
“The reason I turned up so early," the In-
spector explained, referring to his watch, "is that
I'm expecting my evidence to turn up here. You'll
excuse the liberty I'm sure, Doctor. From the
point of view of your patient's health, you
know "
"Your consideration dumfounds me," Dr.
Frohlocken interjected. “May I ask whom my
unfortunate patient is to be confronted with this
morning?"
"Well, in the first place there's Lord Sud-
leigh's lawyer"
Monsieur de Beaulieu dropped his egg-spoon.
“In my present state of health, I consider that
my feelings ought to be considered,” he said,
plaintively. "And I don't like lawyers."
"Memory returning, eh what?" the Inspector
suggested.


54 ROGUES & COMPANY
"I think it's instinct," the Count explained.
“Well, anyhow he had to come. That's him
ringing now, I've no doubt. Or maybe it's your
nurse—"
"My what?" The Count had now definitely
finished with his breakfast. The Inspector smiled
reassuringly upon him.
"Your nurse, Count. I sent for her so that she
could meet you together with the lawyer fellow.
Identification, you understand. Nurse bound to
recognise you—"
"But-look here," the Count put his hand to
his burning forehead. A lawyer was bad enough,
but a nurse—the loving guardian of somebody
else's tender youth-was too much. Discovery
again loomed on the horizon, and he did not want
to be discovered. Whether it belonged to him
or not, the position of Count de Beaulieu suited
him down to the ground, and he had not the
slightest intention of surrendering it without a
struggle. “Excuse me, Inspector," he said, “but
if I have been travelling round the world for the
last few years, how do you expect this—eh-per-
son to recognise me?"
Inspector Smythe stopped half-way to the door.
"Recognise you—why shouldn't she recognise
you? Why, only a week ago she was nursing
you!"


ROGUES & COMPANY 55
Monsieur de Beaulieu drew himself up to his
full height.
"It is quite true that I have completely forgot-
ten my past," he said with dignity, “but one thing
I'll swear to—I haven't had a nurse for the last
twenty years and anybody who says she”.
"My dear Count," interrupted the Inspector.
"I don't mean that sort-I mean a sick nurse,
a hospital nurse. But of course you've forgotten
—the wreck, you know."
The Count put his hand to the back of his head
which was still sensitive. A light had dawned,
but it was scarcely a comforting one.
"So it's her!” he exclaimed, with a regrettable
lack of grammar. “Good God!"
"Just you wait,” said his protector, consol-
ingly, “I'll bring the whole lot in and then we'll
be through with it,".
"Look here!” the Count held out a detaining
hand. "Supposing she says I'm not who you think
I am—what's going to happen? It's not a hang-
ing business, is it? I never thought of being
a Count until you suggested it and 1-".
"I take all responsibility,” said the Inspector
firmly. “And if you are not you then we must
find out who you are. You must be somebody.”
"I suppose so." The Count tugged at his small
moustache. “On the whole though-if you don't
mind and the worst comes to the worst-I think


56 ROGUES & COMPANY
I won't bother any more about it. It's rather
nerve-racking, you know—this sort of quick-
change business. If I'm not the Count de Beau-
lieu I'll just start life again as-eh-anybody-
Adol-Tom Smith-Brown" He had sup-
pressed the William with an effort which left him
breathless and horror-stricken by the nearness of
his escape. The Inspector wagged a playful
finger.
"Now just you wait, Count,” he said sooth-
ingly. “All you've got to do is to wait and keep
cool-quite cool"
He was out of the room before any further
protest could be made, and the Count, having
overcome the temptation to put an end to the
situation by jumping through the window, pre-
pared himself for the next dilemma, with a sang-
froid which the events of the last few days had
helped to develop in him. Nevertheless, as he
heard returning footsteps, he had some difficulty
in retaining his attitude of dignified and he
hoped-aristocratic composure by the fireside.
He knew that his face was redder than is con-
sidered elegant in good society and his high col.
lar-his first purchase with the Count's money-
had become uncomfortably tight and hot. Even
his last resource, an eyeglass which he had ac-
customed himself to wearing in moments of ex-
treme pressure, failed him by dropping as the


ROGUES & COMPANY 57
door opened, with a nerve-jarring click against
his waistcoat button.
The Inspector had left the room in a certain
state of excitement. He returned with the pom-
pous and funereal tread of a man conscious that
the eyes of the world are upon you. Behind him
loomed a Large Person in the garb of a hospital
nurse and, behind her again, a ferret-like little
man, in all the glory of the professional frock-
coat, was endeavouring—not very successfully-to
make himself visible.
There was a moment's potential silence. The
Inspector made a solemn gesture of introduction.
"Permit me,” he said. “Count Louis de
Beaulieu-Nurse Bunbury-Mr. Simmons; Dr.
Frohlocken-Nurse Bunbury,”
The Doctor removed his spectacles, placed
them in an inner pocket and buttoned up his coat
with the air of a man who refuses to contemplate
a disgraceful scene. Count Louis, raised by the
dignity of his full title, endeavoured to pull him-
self together. The Large Person was staring at
him with a blankness which boded nothing good
and the lawyer had evidently already summed him
up and, from the expression of the small eyes be-
hind the pince-nez, none too favourably. Hither-
to Monsieur de Beaulieu had felt himself sur-
prisingly at home in his position. Under this
combined attack he began to slide rapidly down


58 ROGUES & COMPANY
the
"I'm awfully brief glory tored for him to
the social scale. There was no doubt that the
game was up. It only remained for him to carry
the rest of his brief glory to a gallant end.
"I'm awfully grateful to you both for coming
to my assistance like this,” he said. "Please sit
down."
His manner was gracious and gentlemanly.
The Large Person alone persisted in her uncom-
promising stare. The lawyer obviously softened.
"Thank you—thank you," he was heard to
murmur. “Delighted to be of any assistance.”
After which admission he sat down and produced
a number of sealed documents which he laid on
the table with an air of grave mystery and pol-
ished his pince-nez with a corner of his handker-
chief. “You say you are the Count Louis de
Beaulieu ?” he asked—so suddenly and loudly
that even the Large Person started.
The Count smiled and shook his head.
"I don't say so," he said. “I am told so."
"Ah, yes, of course. Loss of memory. Very
awkward indeed.”
"But very interesting," put in the Doctor satír-
ically. Whereupon the Large Person testified
her assent by a slow and twice repeated nod of
the neatly bonneted head.
Mr. Simmons coughed.
"It is a case of identification by credible wit-
nesses then," he said. "To all intents and pur.


ROGUES & COMPANY 59
poses, Count, we might as well look upon you as
a corpse."
"By all means," the Count agreed. "Barring
anatomical researches there is nothing I should
like better. Pray proceed.”
"But it is not an easy case," Mr. Simmons went
on, with the air of reproving unwarrantable ley-
ity. “Your inability to testify on your own be-
half, and the difficulty in procuring witnesses,
make the matter exceptionally complicated. I
may remind you that you have no relative living to
identify you. Your uncle, my late client, Lord
Sudleigh, who has left you the property in ques-
tion, died two months ago. His direct heir has
never seen you. Your past mode of life, which,
if I may say so, appears to have been somewhat
roving, makes it practically impossible to procure
reliable witnesses. Those who knew you on board
the 'Melita' are unfortunately deceased. It re-
mains to be seen whether Nurse Bunbury, who
attended Count de Beaulieu, recognises you as her
patient.”
"Exactly!” said the Inspector.
The Count put his hand involuntarily to his
collar. The great and critical moment had come.
The only person who appeared indifferent to the
fact was Nurse Bunbury herself. Her expression
remained blank. “Come!” exclaimed the lawyer,


60 ROGUES & COMPANY
sharply. “Is he or is he not the Count de
Beaulieu ?"
"I don't know," she said.
"Nonsense—you must know. He was under
your charge for two days."
"I don't know," the Large Person repeated,
stonily. “There doesn't seem to be anything the
matter with him."
"Good heavens, woman,"
"Except a bit of fever perhaps," she interposed
with the air of modifying an important statement,
"but then most of 'em have that."
Mr. Simmons interposed with an air of ex-
emplary patience. .
“But, my good person,” he began, “nobody
wants to know if there is anything the matter
with him. You have come here"
"If there isn't anything the matter with him,"
Nurse Bunbury interrupted, "I can't tell whether
I know him or not. That's all I can say, but I
would like to add that my name is Bunbury—.
Nurse Bunbury—and that I am not a person. I
am a lady."
The Inspector looked at the lawyer and the
lawyer stared at his documents. The Count re-
placed his eyeglass in a bright eye which was
twinkling at that moment with completely recov.
ered good-humour.
"You mean to say,” Mr. Simmons began again
son.
vas


ROGUES & COMPANY 61
sternly, “that you only recognise your patients by
their diseases ?"
“Diseases and haccidents,” the. Large Person
assented. "I have ten of 'em under me this very
day. No. I, dislocated knee joint. No. 2,
broken leg. No. 3, amputated big toe. No.
44"
"Thank you—" began the Doctor hastily.
"And last week I was in the infection ward,"
Nurse Bunbury continued undeterred. “Twelve
of 'em I had—and every one of 'em diphtherias.
Only knew them by their temperatures. No. 6,
he died yesterday—"
The lawyer shifted his chair nearer the open
window.
"Very interesting, Nurse,” he said, "very in-
teresting indeed, but scarcely to the point. Would
you mind turning your attention to your late pa-
tient, Count Louis de Beaulieu ? What was the
matter with him, pray?!!
"If you mean No. 7-" the Large Person
began.
"I mean the patient who disappeared last
Thursday week with somebody else's clothes."
"That's No. 7," she said at once. “Came in
with a whole lot of 'em-half drowned, that's
what they were. Couldn't tell tother from which.
But 7, he was a scamp. He went off with
No. 9's trousers and waistcoats. No. 9 died next


62 ROGUES & COMPANY
day, which was a mighty good thing considering
his nasty temper. If he had known that his
trousers—"
By this time Dr. Frohloeken had replaced his
spectacles, through which he was gazing at the
Large Person with interest and satisfaction.
"I congratulate you, Madam” he said. “You
appear to have the proper scientific point of view.
You are not concerned with absurd personalities.
It happens that I, too, regard him as No. 7. And
No. 7 he remains until by reasonable meth-
ods"
"I am asking you about your patient," Mr.
Simmons put in with determined patience. "What
was the matter with him?"
“Concussion, sir, with fever and a tempera-
ture-"
"Stop !" The Inspector pointed an accusing
finger at her. “Did you say concussion ?”.
“I did, sir."
"From a blow?"
“On the back of the head. A nasty-looking
thing "
"Wait!” The Inspector crossed the room and
taking the Count by the shoulders whirled him
round and removed the bandage very much as a
conjuror removes the cloth from the magic flower-
pot from whence rabbits and other surprises are


64 ROGUES & COMPANY
"It would be a great gain if we could find this
'Theodora,"" he observed. “I confess, Inspector,
that though your theories are very ingenious I
feel doubtful as to whether I should like to trust
them to the extent of £10,000 a year and an estate
in Norfolk. You will admit that the evidence
is weak in the extreme".
"Weak! What more do you want?"
"I want Theodora,” Mr. Simmons returned
with a dryness of manner which nullified the sug-
gestion of tenderness in his words.
The Inspector shook his head and turned his
eyes to the ceiling as though hoping to find there
a sympathetic witness to so much unreasonable-
ness. But before he had sufficiently recovered
himself to protest the door was opened and James
stood solemnly on the threshold.
"If you please, sir, a lady to see you,” he an-
nounced.
The Doctor waved his hands distractedly.
"I do not want to see her. Can't you see I
have enough fools here already. Send her away.”
“If you please, sir, it is your consultation
hour."
“What do I care, idiot. Send her away, I
tell you!"
"If you please, sir, she said it was very im-
portant."
“What do you mean? Is she dying?”


ROGUES & COMPANY
1 65
"I don't know, sir. One never can tell."
“The healthiest-looking go first,” the Large
Person observed unexpectedly.
Dr. Frohlocken hesitated a moment, obviously
torn between impatience at the interruption and
a sense of professional duty.
"If you would wait but a few minutes—?” he
suggested doubtfully.
Simmons bowed.
"By all means."
"My time is yours, Doctor," added Monsieur
de Beaulieu graciously.
Thus encouraged, but with considerable ill-will,
Dr. Frohlocken followed the stoical James in
the direction of his consulting-room and, for a
time, nothing was heard but the distant murmur
of a woman's voice, interrupted occasionally by
the Doctor's familiar grunts of disapproval.
The three listeners maintained a gloomy sil-
ence. The Large Person, having lost interest in
her whilom patient, had collapsed into the most
comfortable chair, and the lawyer was staring in
front of him with an expression which forbade
liberties. The Count felt he was suspected in
that quarter and, warned by experience, refrained
from touching on even such innocent topics as the
weather. For the moment the danger of dis-
covery was averted, but for how long? As long,
probably, as the real Count chose to maintain his


66
ROGUES & COMPANY
mysterious incognito. Or, perhaps the Count
was dead. The gold pig lying at the bottom
of his understudy's waistcoat suggested the glo-
rious possibility with unction, but the understudy
himself discountenanced it. He felt that to hope
such a thing was indecent--almost criminal-a
feeling which he knew to be ridiculous, but which,
with the best will in the world, he could not alto-
gether suppress. Anyhow, he had no grudge to
speak of against the genuine Count, and none at
all against the lovely Theodora. For he had
made up his mind that she was lovely. The name
suggested it and the Count's behaviour proved it.
A man who can ramble on about a lady on the
top of a shipwreck and concussion of the brain
has usually method in his madness. The bogus
Count fancied her at that moment in tears,
weighed down by grief at the mysterious loss of
her lover, and his heart went out to her in pity
and considerable remorse.
"Theodora !” he repeated to himself. “Con-
foundedly pretty name! Theodora what, I won-
der? Smith, probably—or perhaps Brown!"
Whereupon he smiled ruefully.
It was at this moment that Dr. Frohlocken re-
turned. It appeared at once that some of his
scientific detachment had been lost in that brief
interview. He was still angry, but also not a
little moved by some gentler emotion. He re-
fancied her " his madnese
weich


ROGUES & COMPANY 67
garded No. 7 for the first time as though he were
something more than an interesting experiment.
"As my house has become a lunatic asylum,"
he said, “it is not inappropriate that mad events
should take place in it. I am glad to think that
at any rate I have washed my hands of all con-
sequences. No. 7, Mademoiselle Theodora de
Melville awaits you in my consulting room."


CHAPTER IV
COUNT LOUIS DE BEAULIEU stood with his
shaking hand upon the door handle. The last
few minutes lay behind him like hours of night-
mare of which this was the culminating agony.
His utter consternation, mistaken by the Doctor
for the bewilderment of an overpowering joy, the
gradually dawning realisation of his position in its
new and hopeless complications, had followed fast
upon each other, and yet it seemed to him an
eternity since he had smiled upon the Large Per-
son and the dour-faced lawyer with all the in-
souciance of the budding fatalist. Then the whole
thing had appeared more or less farcical—an in-
credible comedy in which his mental misfortune
played the chief rôle. Then he had, in some meas-
ure, felt himself a person of distinction. Now he
was nothing more than a common rogue about to
face his judge. And his judge was a woman-
that was the worst of it-an angry, unhappy, dis-
appointed woman, and one thing was certain in his
mind, namely, that in all his previous nefarious
career he had never enjoyed "doing” a woman or
taking the consequences. Moreover, his nerve
68


ROGUES & COMPANY
69
was gone. It was in vain that he threw back his
shoulders and tugged at his tie and told himself
that whatever happened she couldn't kill him.
He trembled visibly, and when he at length pushed
open the fatal door he did so with much the same
despairing courage as that which drives the suicide
over the precipice.
He saw her before she saw him. She was
standing by the window, her hands clasped to-
gether in an attitude of suppressed agitation, and
before she moved he gathered that she was small,
graceful and elegantly, if quietly, dressed. When
she at length turned he saw that she suited the
name Theodora even better than his picture of
her. He had no memories to go by, but he could
not believe that he had ever seen anything more
lovely than her face, or anything more charming
than its bewildering contrasts. The delicate fea-'
tures and grey eyes had certainly been made for
happiness and their expression of trouble was as
piquant as it was pathetic. Evidently she had
been crying, and yet behind the tears there were
untold possibilities of mirth and malicious hu-
mour; her fine lips trembled—he could so easily
have imagined how they would twitch with sup-
pressed laughter. She looked at him steadily and
he braced his shoulders against the door and faced
her with sullen defiance. But she neither screamed
nor gave any sign of surprise. She came towards


70
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him, and his eyes dropped. His defiance was
melting fast into a miserable regret.
“Please don't say anything!” he burst out at
last. "You can't say more than I could say about
myself. I'm an utter cad—I suppose I was born
one—and I've played you all a mean trick. I
know it and it's not much excuse to say I didn't
mean it. It was that Inspector—".
"But you see I know already—I read about it
in the papers," she interrupted gently. "You lost
your memory.” The tone of her voice gave him
courage. He looked up at her again.
"Absolutely, I can't remember a thing. That's
how it all started. It's my only excuse." He
hesitated. “I'm most awfully sorry to have hurt
you," he said huskily.
She smiled a little woe-begone smile that was
not without bitterness.
"You couldn't help it,” she said. “Besides
it's all over now."
“Yes-of course, it's all over now—especially
as far as I am concerned." He drew himself up-
right. “Anyhow-before you call the Inspec-
tor
"
“But I'm not going to call the Inspector. Why
should I?-not yet at least."
He stared at her.
"You mean—good heavens, Mademoiselle-


ROGUES & COMPANY 71
you don't mean that you are going to help me out
of this mess ?”
"For what else should I be here?” She came
forward and laid a white hand on his arm.
"Aren't you a little glad to see me-Louis ?"
For a minute a haze floated before his eyes.
When it cleared he saw a sweet face close to his
own, a pair of lips which trembled and yet smiled
at him. He pressed his hand to his head.
"Mademoiselle-I beg your pardon—I don't
understand"
"I asked if you were not a little glad to see me.
Is that so very strange or difficult?"
"But—" He did not finish his sentence. Like
so many flashes of light, a dozen half-formed pos-
sibilities passed before his mind. Was he in real-
ity the Count? Did he, by some extraordinary
coincidence, bear that nobleman such a strong re-
semblance that even his fiancée was deceived?
Had the lucky pig miraculously changed him or
blinded her? Each suggestion seemed equally
unlikely and equally absurd. The one thing that
was certain was Mademoiselle Theodora herself
and the small white hand resting on his arm. The
instinct of self-preservation, or possibly the latent
spirit of Slippery Bill—or possibly something al-
together different-urged him to take it and press
it between both his own.
“Forgive me if I seem very stupid,” he said.


74 ROGUES & COMPANY
The gentle reminder recalled him to himself
and he bowed stiffly.
“Thank you, Mademoiselle"
“Don't be offended." There was now a sus-
picion of genuine laughter in her grey eyes. "You
see, we are starting life all over again.”
"Of course,” he said decorously, from the other
side of the fire-place. "All the same I should like
to know something of my pre-existence, if I may
so call it. Would you mind ?”
She did not answer at once. She stared gravely
into the fire and he felt with a sense of shame that
the subject must necessarily be painful to her. He
bent forward in an attitude of confidential friend-
liness.
“Let me help you," he said. “I'll begin by
asking questions. Am I, for instance, really the
Count Louis de Beaulieu ?"
She looked at him in quick surprise.
"Of course," she said.
“And you are Mademoiselle Theodora de Mel.
ville ?"
She nodded without speaking and he hesitated,
knowing that he was near delicate ground, yet
desperately anxious to know more.
"I know I sound like an inquisitor," he went
on humbly, “but you must have patience with me.
You can treat me as a sort of harmless lunatic if
you like, but remember that you are the only per-


76
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were engaged but my father objected. He turned
you out of our house."
Monsieur de Beaulieu drew himself up. It an-
noyed him to find that he was still saddled with a
doubtful character.
“Why? Did they object to me?"
"You had no money—in those days,” she an-
swered with a faint smile. "And they said that
you were—well, just a little wild.”
It was no use feeling aggrieved. A man with
Slippery Bill's record might be thankful to come
off so lightly. “Apparently you overcame their-
prejudices, however?” he suggested.
She threw back her head with a fascinating
movement of defiance.
“Indeed not !" she said.
“Then, Mademoiselle, I'm afraid I really don't
understand how you came here.”
"I ran away.”
“From your parents ?”.
"I was very unhappy," she said, almost in a
whisper.
“Yes—but surely—wasn't it very unwise ?”.
Her lips twitched.
"You were in New York,” she said, "and you
wrote to me."
"Well?"
“Well—then I ran away."


ROGUES & COMPANY 77
He rose slowly from his chair, as though im-
pelled by an irresistible force.
"You ran away—where to?"
"To England.”
“What—what for?”
Her eyes avoided his. Her blush deepened.
“I would rather not say."
"I insist. I must know. Why did you come
to England ?"
She looked at him again—this time with re-
solve and a faint flicker of laughter in her eyes.
"You insist?" she asked.
“I insist."
"Well then, I came to England to marry you."
Monsieur de Beaulieu sat down again. The
movement had been a compulsory one. His knees
had given way under him.
“And—and your parents ?” he began feebly.
"By this time they have discarded me.”
“Good heavens!" he said under his breath.
"I didn't mean to tell you," she went on, “but
you made me, and perhaps it is just as well that
you should know the truth. Of course, now the
circumstances have altered everything, and you
are quite, quite free. Here are your letters."
She opened a dainty reticule and produced a
packet tied with blue ribbons which he accepted
gingerly. He looked at the contents and his last
hope faded. The writing was utterly unlike his


78
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own secret experiments in that direction. It was
a very simple, clerk-like hand, easy to imitate, as
his criminal self immediately noted, and though
the Doctor, who had theories on the subject of
mental troubles, would never have recognised the
discrepancies as evidence, the Rogue himself felt
that the testimony of the little gold pig in his
waistcoat pocket had been amply confirmed. Had
he not the right to ignore the pig and accept a
situation into which he had been pitchforked by
circumstances and a handful of determined luna-
tics? He glanced across at his companion. Her
head was bowed. He fancied that there were
tears on her cheeks.
“May I read these?” he asked uncertainly.
“Why not since they are yours?"
He untied the bundle. Some of the letters
were in French, some in an English freely be-
sprinkled with Americanisms, all of them were
tender. Monsieur de Beaulieu's knowledge of
French proved to be limited but he guessed suc-
cessfully at "ma bien-aimée"; "mon ange”; “je
t'adore," and the signature, "Louis de Beaulieu,”
was unmistakable. He ground his teeth.
“What an utter scoundrel !” he said aloud.
Mademoiselle Theodora opened her eyes wide.
“Who?" she asked.
"The Count-I mean—of course-I mean
what an utter scoundrel I should be if I were-


ROGUES & COMPANY
79
no, that's not what I meant either. In plain lan-
guage-it was a scoundrelly thing to have written
to you like that and then have left you—well, like
this."
“But you couldn't help it," she protested. “You
lost your memory.”
"Exactly. But if I hadn't lost my memory I
should be a scoundrel, shouldn't I?"
She nodded in puzzled assent.
"I should deserve anything I should deserve
to lose you and—er—anything else that happened
to belong to me, shouldn't I ?”.
"You would certainly lose me," she said with
conviction.
Monsieur de Beaulieu adjusted his eyeglass
with the air of a man who sees his way clear.
"Then it seems to me that we can go ahead
without compunction," he remarked. “Theo-
dora—"
She rose.
"I have the honour to wish you good-morning,
Count.”
"Where are you going?”.
She shrugged her shoulders.
“That, my friend, is no longer your affair." .
"Excuse me!" He rose and faced her. "I
have been thinking it over," he said slowly and
distinctly. “It's too long a business to start life


80
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all over again. If you have no objection we will
begin where we left off, Theodora."
She drew back. The colour faded from her
cheeks.
"I am afraid I am rather stupid," she said.
"I mean—I may be forgetful but I am very
impressionable.”
She smiled ironically.
“You are very chivalrous," she retorted.
“Then you don't believe in love at first sight
after all ?” he asked.
"I believe that you are trying to be generous.
Good-morning, Count!".
She tried to pass him but he caught her hands
and held them.
“You are not going till you have heard me
out. You say I am the Count de Beaulieu. Well,
I take your word for it. You say you are Made.
moiselle de Melville, my fiancée. Well, I take
your word for that too. So we're quits. As
you are engaged to me I presume you must love
me. Will you marry me?”.
“Marry you ?" she echoed.
“This very day!” he said recklessly.
She turned her back to him as though to hide
her face.
"I repeat-you are generous, Count.”
"And I swear to you that I have never loved
another woman—at least if I have I can't remem.


ROGUES & COMPANY 81
ber it and I promise you that I will never love
another. I can't say more."
She frowned.
"You would have been wiser if you had said
less, Count,” she said. "Shall I tell you the truth?
You are impelled by two motives—firstly by your
sense of duty and secondly by your susceptibility
to a pretty face. For the first I admire you, for
the second I despise you, and for your offer I
thank you. And so—good morning.”
Monsieur de Beaulieu held his ground, though
he flushed.
"We will leave love and duty out of the mat-
ter," he said. “Let us call it a 'mariage de con-
venance.'»
She seemed to take no exception to his French.
She stopped short and looked at him with a sud-
den attention.
"Explain!” she commanded.
"I mean just this—if you won't have me I
doubt if anyone ever will. I don't seem to have
a friend or a relation in the world. From my
point of view it would be a charitable act to marry
me. As for you—well, you admit yourself that
he-1-we have put you into a decidedly awk-
ward position."
“Do you think I would marry you out of fear
for myself?" she asked, white with anger.


82 ROGUES & COMPANY
"Surely my forgetfulness has not cost me all
your affection ?” he pleaded pathetically.
“We will leave affection out of the matter,"
she mimicked.
"Very well—as a matter of convenience then."
She stood silent, evidently at war with conflict-
ing emotions, and he waited patiently. He had
surreptitiously taken the Lucky Pig from his
pocket and was squeezing it with a new fervour
of belief in its miraculous powers. For once in a
way his conscience was mute. If he was the
Count than he was doing the right thing; and if
he was, as he had every reason to suspect, no other
than William Brown, commonly known as Slip-
pery Bill, then he was acting like a rogue, which
was all that could be expected of him. As for
Theodora—it was her fault if she could not tell
her lover from his double, and anyhow, in his
opinion, she had made a profitable exchange.
So he waited, and presently she looked at him
with a softened rather tremulous smile.
"Perhaps, Count" she began.
“My name is Louis,” he interrupted. "You
told me so yourself.”
"Perhaps then, Louis” She hesitated.
"You consent?” he asked.
"We are rather like two lost children," she
said sadly. "Perhaps, as you say, we had better
join forces if it is possible."


ROGUES & COMPANY 83
"Instinct tells me that there are such things
as special licenses," he answered joyfully.
“And you understand it is and remains a mat.
ter of convenience?”.
"Until further orders, Theodora.”
She smiled faintly.
“My name, at least, seems to be becoming fa-
miliar to you,” she said.
"I think,” he returned, "that there are some
things which will come back to me very quickly."
"It's a bargain then?”
“A solemn league and covenant."
She gave him her hand. He kissed it and she
drew back with a proud offended gesture.
“That is not necessary, Monsieur."
"After all, you did love me," he returned re-
proachfully. “You have not forgotten."
“Such things must be mutual.”
“Tell me. Didn't I fall in love with you the
first hour I saw you?”
She flushed deeply.
"You said so. Pray let us rejoin your friends,
Monsieur."
He held open the door for her.
"It seems I have not changed at all,” he said.


CHAPTER V
Not very far from an unfashionable part of
London, commonly known as Whitechapel, there
is a dirty little street which serves as a means
of communication between two larger and more
populous thoroughfares. In this region there are
many dirty little streets, so that the description
would be scarcely adequate were it not added
that Herbert-or 'Urbert Street to use the local
designation—was by far and away the dirtiest,
narrowest and most evil-smelling of them all. In
the day time it gave the impression of being
wholly deserted—not so much as an urchin en-
livened its unsavoury gutters—but towards eve-
ning there was a change which altered the whole
character of the place. Dark figures slunk out
of unlighted doorways and little mysterious
groups formed themselves well out of reach of
the lamp light-scattering precipitately in all di-
rections as a couple of stalwart constables prome-
naded down the centre of the narrow roadway.
In a word—'Urbert Street had a reputation which
put Seven Dials to shame, and successfully saved
it from the tender administrations of amateur
84


ROGUES & COMPANY 85
"slumbers" and "Lady Beneficents" who were
rumoured to haunt the more respectable regions.
Even the constables hunted in couples, a few un-
pleasant little incidents having proved that it was
unhealthy even for six foot of Yorkshire manhood
to appear unchaperoned, and “swells” were natu-
rally unknown. Consequently, the appearance of
a tall, well-dressed young man who drove up to
the corner in a taxi, would have caused a sensa-
tion had the usual habitués been there to wit-
ness it. For reasons best known to themselves,
however, the inhabitants shunned the light of
day and the only living object was a curious look-
ing individual who was leaning up against a lamp-
post, staring blankly at nothing in particular. The
well-dressed young man paid his taximan who,
having eyed him and the proffered pound note
with equal suspicion, turned his vehicle and drove
off with as much speed as was consistent with dig.
nity. His recent "hire” waited a moment and,
after referring to a newspaper cutting, made his
way slowly down' the left side of the street. Evi.
dently he was looking for a number, but numbers
had long ago been discarded in a region where the
tenants changed their place of residence too often
and too suddenly to make an address of any great
value. A fruitless wandering brought the un-
usual visitor back to his starting point. The
quaint figure in the check suit was still leaning in


86
ROGUES & COMPANY
W
the same attitude against the lamp-post and the
young man of immaculate appearance, after a mo-
ment's hesitation, went up to him and lifted his
hat.
“Would you mind telling me which is No. 10?”
he asked courteously.
The person thus addressed gave not the slight-
est sign of having heard. His gaze continued as
blank and idiotic as before and the enquirer re-
peated his question in a louder and more deter-
mined key.
"Would you mind telling me which is No. 10?”
he said, and supplemented the appeal with a light
tap on the shoulder. The check-suited one there-
upon slowly brought his eyes down to the level
of the speaker's face and as slowly uncrossed his
legs and unfolded his arms.
"Now then, young spark!” he drawled, with
an indescribable accent which savoured about
equally of Whitechapel and New York. “You
stop that or you'll find yourself in Queer Street.
Can't you let a fellow sleep?".
The young man smiled. “I didn't know you
were asleep,” he said. “Your eyes were wide
open.”
“The blighter who goes to sleep with his eyes
shut in these parts deserves all that's coming to
him," was the sententious answer. “The trick is
to look as wide awake as an ol' clothes man even


ROGUES & COMPANY 87
if you're as sleepy as a dormouse. What's your
wants, young man?”
The stranger referred to the newspaper cut-
ting.
"I want No. 10," he said, “but I can't find any
number of any sort. Would you perhaps inform
me-"
“Now, don't begin your little yarn all over
again,” the little man in the check suit interrupted.
"If you hadn't landed on a soft hearted little bit
of goods like me all that parlez-vouing would have
cost you your hat. Say, “Where's No. 10.—or
I'll punch your head till your own loving mother
won't know you' and we'll get to business."
The stranger laughed.
"When I've done punching your head you won't
know No. 10 from No. 1000," he said genially,
"so for both our sakes you'd better hurry up and
tell me what I want before it's too late.”
The man by the lamp-post rubbed his hands,
tilted his brimless hat to the back of his close
cropped head and winked.
"That's the spirit!” he said. “My, though!
You are a sight!”
“I beg your pardon ?" In accents of some
offence.
"In polite language—you're a highly coloured
one. No. 10 will fall flat when it sees you.” The
little man produced a packet of doubtful looking


88
ROGUES & COMPANY
cigars and, selecting one, bit off the end with pre-
cision. “I doubt if No. 10 has seen a clean collar
this side of 1900," he went on meditatively, "and
for friendship's sake I reckon I oughtn't to expose
it to the shock. Just put up your coat, will you,
and give your hat a tilt and then we'll get along."
The young man obeyed, though somewhat re-
luctantly, and the results of his alterations appear-
ing to give satisfaction, the curiously assorted pair
started down the street in search of No. 10. The
check-suited Cicerone sauntered on ahead, his
hands in his pockets, the cigar sticking out of the
corner of his mouth, his swagger suggesting that
what didn't belong to him in 'Urbert Street didn't
count for much. The young man followed him
with an amateur appearance of rakishness, which
in his present company and surroundings was de-
cidedly ineffectual. Half way down the street his
new acquaintance glanced over his shoulder.
“What's your game at No. 10?” he asked.
"You haven't mistaken it for the Ritz, have you?
All the palatial apartments down this avenue have
been taken by the nobility months ago."
"I'm not looking for apartments,” the young
man replied uneasily. “I'm looking for-er-a
certain Mrs. Jubbers."
"Wall, I guess you're not the only one whose
looking for her," was the cryptic answer. “Old
friend, eh?"


90 ROGUES & COMPANY
whose atmosphere was at that moment almost
opaque with the fumes of bad tobacco.
“My dear Mrs. Jubbers," Washington Jones
said loudly and distinctly, “permit me to present
an old friend of mine to you,—The Dook of
Harrisville—just arrived from the Continong.
My dear Dook, this is Mrs. Jubbers, whose ac-
quaintance you are so anxious to make.”
The newly created “Dook" bowed to a stout
slovenly dressed old woman who had loomed out
of the clouds of smoke and now advanced upon
him with a tottering step. She had only one eye
-the other, judging from appearances, had been
lost in honourable warfare—but the remaining
orb was extraordinarily bright and none too
friendly. It flashed over the “Dook's" person
with a rapidity that seemed to take in every detail
from the pearl scarf-pin downwards.
“Very 'appy to meet 'is Grace," she said with
a suspicious leer. “Mr. Jones' friends are always
welcome. Take a seat, me lord.” She proffered
a chair, of whose four legs only three could be
safely counted on, and wiped the seat. “We're
'umble folk, your Grace," she mumbled on, "but
wery 'onest and wot we ’ave we gladly shares with
others. Make yourself at 'ome.” During this
speech the bright eye had been shooting wireless
telegrams at Washington Jones, who winked sig.
nificantly.
2


92
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always a man of honour," returned Washington
Jones. “You can trust me like yourself, sir."
The “Dook's" smile was a trifle rueful.
“As a matter of a fact I came here after having
come across this newspaper cutting," he began at
last. “If you wouldn't mind glancing over it you
will see how I came to know your name."
"You can read out wot it says,” Mrs. Jubbers
retorted gloomily. "I ain't got no time for mak-
ing out that sort o' rubbish.” .
“It's an-er-police-court report," the “Dook”
explained with increasing nervousness. “I will
quote-er-strictly. 'Henrietta Jubbers, said to
be of No. 10, Herbert Street, E. C. and already
familiar to the public in connection with the no-
torious swindler William Brown, was charged yes-
terday before Mr. James Hawley with drunken-
ness and disorder—'"
“Look 'ere, young man,” Mrs. Jubbers inter-
rupted, her clenched first within an inch of her
visitor's nose, “if you're one o' them tee-totlars
or Prisoner's Friends you can take yourself off—"
"But I'm not,” the “Dook” protested vigor-
ously.
"Well, wot's it got to do with you if I gets
'awled up before the beak? Ain't it enough to
'ave one's fizzical weaknesses mistook by a bloom-
in cop wot doesn't know when a lidy 'as a fainting
fit, without a lot of busybodies acomin' in after-


94 ROGUES & COMPANY
U
n-
"If you take my advice you'll talk out straight,
sir," he said. “If you want a house broke or a
friend doped you can say so and we shan't be
shocked, we've sympathy for those little human
weaknesses, haven't we, Mrs. Jubbers?”.
Mrs. Jubbers assented with a nod of her un-
tidy head, but the “Dook's" distress appeared to
increase.
"I don't want anything of that sort,” he said.
"I simply want to find out if you know William
Brown who I believe goes under the alias of Slip-
pery Bill. I assure you the matter is of the ut-
most importance to me."
Mrs. Jubbers considered. She was evidently
considering very earnestly indeed, for her eye had
become positively piercing.
"I don't know wot you mean by 'aliasses'," she
said at last, "but I know of a fellow called Slip-
pery Bill. I don't know 'im” she added hastily,
“there aren't many who do—and I don't know
where 'e is either."
“But you said when you gave evidence that he
carried a talisman with him by which he could be
identified.”
Mrs. Jubbers glanced uneasily about the room.
“'E'ad something of that sort,” she admitted,
"a kind of charm-'is Lucky Pig 'e called it. 'E
always 'ad it with 'im, so they say. 'E said it
kept the cops off.”


96 ROGUES & COMPANY
a trembling finger at the pig which was now lying
on the table. “That pig is mine."
“Lor'!” from Mrs. Jubbers.
"Holy Jimjams!” from Mr. Washington Jones.
"Looks nasty for someone,” Mrs. Jubbers re-
flected. Her sinisterly alert eye expressed close
mental concentration. "Seems to me,” she went
on, “if that there pig belongs to you—".
“I don't know that it does—" the “Dook” inter-
posed hastily. “I only found it-I mean—it was
in my pocket-” he floundered. He was aware
that his audience had exchanged a significant
glance, and that he had already hopelessly com-
promised himself. “You see, the terrible position
I'm in," he said.
"'Orrible," said Mrs. Jubbers.
"You” said Washington Jones pointing his
finger, "are the French Count who was found on
a doctor's doorstep. I know all about you, sir.
A case of loss of memory, eh what!”
The "Dook” nodded, conscious that the less he
said the better.
"No clue, eh?"
"Except the pig, it seems,” Mrs. Jubbers re-
marked.
She stood with her arms akimbo. Her eyelid
had dropped a little over her eye giving her an
expression of extraordinary cunning.
"I tell you wot it is," she said. “There's only


98 ROGUES & COMPANY
dear boy,” he said. "What price 'Slippery Bill'
eh?”
The young man made a gesture of despair but
he had no opportunity to give further expression
to his feelings for at that moment the door
opened. Mrs. Jubbers entered followed by a tall
flashily dressed individual whose face, as soon as
he perceived the visitor, lit up with a bewilder-
ment and ecstasy which should have been highly
flattering but, instead, appeared to cause the sup-
posed Count de Beaulieu considerable alarm. He
retreated precipitately before the newcomer's
eager advance.
“My dear brother!" the latter said, husky with
emotion. “My dear, dear brother!"
It was a touching scene. The Count sank feebly
on the unsteady chair whilst his new-found rela-
tion bent over him and clasped his hand with emo-
tional fervour.
"And to think that I'd given you up for lawst,"
Slippery Bill's brother went on brokenly. “To
think all the time I was 'alf mad with grief you
was lahdy-dahding it as a bloomin' Count! Ain't
that enough to wring tears out of a beak? Ain't
that tragic?"
“Yes," the prodigal one admitted faintly.
"And you don't seem a bit pleased !” George
observed with a gentle note of reproach. “Aren't
you glad to see your brother again, Bill?”


ROGUES & COMPANY 99
The Count looked up.
“I'm awfully sorry," he said. "I thought Mrs.
Jubbers had told you I've lost my memory. I
can't remember anybody—not even myself. It
was a blow on the head that did it."
“One of those nasty cops," George remarked
sympathetically. “And when you came round you
found you was a Count. Now ain't that luck."
"Luck!” said Mrs. Jubbers solemnly. "It's
genius!”
George nodded.
“You always did land on your feet, Bill,” he
said. "Fancy you—regular toff with 'eaps of dibs.
I’ope you ’ave 'eaps of dibs, brother?”
"The Count de Beaulieu has,” the prodigal
answered heavily. “I haven't.” He picked up
the Lucky Pig and put it back in his pocket.
"Well, there's nothing for it but to go back and
own up,” he said with a cheerless little laugh.
"Wot?” The exclamation came in the same
breath from George and Mrs. Jubbers. Mr.
Washington Jones looked mildly amused. Mrs.
Jubbers threw up her hands.
"You don't mean to say you are goin' to make
a fool of yourself like that!” she said.
"Fool of myself? Why, I can't let things go
on as they are. It wouldn't be honest."
The word caused a shout of rude laughter.


100 ROGUES & COMPANY
George lent over the table in an attitude which
suggested acute physical suffering.
“ 'Onest!” he groaned. “Why, Bill, you've
never been such an 'orrid thing in your life! Ever
since you was a little five year old nipper and
pinched those apples off Mother Grumbage you've
been up to something or other. Old bird, you
don't say that blow 'as spilt you for the profes-
sion ?"
"It seems so," the Count admitted ruefully.
“At any rate I can't go on with this business.”
"Gammon and spinach! You sit tight, brother!
If you're copped you might as well be copped for
being a Count as for that last little affair of
yours at Dr. wot-'is name–Frohlocken—"
The Count fairly writhed.
“That's the man who has befriended me," he
said. "It's too awful.”
"Don't take on !" George pleaded. “The old
josser got 'is silver back. I read about it in the
pipers. You must 'ave been in a 'urry or lawst
your nerve or something, for you chucked it down
one of the areas. Besides, why shouldn't you be a
Count, bless your 'eart? Don't you remember
the time you was the Prince Donowaski and
pinched the Duchess' diamonds ?”
“No, I can't say I do. But I suppose all that
explains why the thing comes so easily to me."
O
rea:
ICS
в


ROGUES & COMPANY 101
George brought his hand down with a heavy
slap on the drooping shoulders.
“Of course it does, you old blighter!” he said.
"Why, you've got the manners and the haccent of
the 'ighest in the land. Just you stick to it-
that's wot I say !"
"I can't!" the Count answered hoarsely.
"Even if I wanted to I can't. There's the girl.”
“The girl! Oh, my, is there a girl in it too?"
"The Mademoiselle de Melville-my-our-
the Count de Beaulieu's fiancée.".
George whistled. Mr. Washington Jones
screwed up one eye.
"Say, that's a knock-out,” he admitted. "I
suppose she'll blow on you—she's bound to."
“No, she won't-at least she hasn't."
“Hasn't? Speak plain, will you ?”
"I mean,” the Count appeared to have some
difficulty in controlling his voice. "I mean that
she has seen me-and-and well, she thinks I am
the Count!"
The three stared at him and then at each
other.
“Wall, I reckon I'm done,” said Washington
Jones.
"'As she 'ad a blow on the 'ead too?” Mrs.
Jubbers suggested.
"I can't explain it," the Count said hopelessly.
"I can only think that there is some resemblance


102
ROGUES & COMPANY
unless n by spe Mrs.
between the Count and myself and that long ab.
sence has weakened her memory. At any rate
there she is and, unless I tell the truth, we shall
be married this afternoon by special license."
“Wot about the relations?” Mrs. Jubbers en-
quired.
"There aren't any. Mine—the Count's are
dead and hers—well, to tell the truth she's run
away from her people in France in order to marry
me—the Count, I mean. That's what's so con
foundedly awkward. For the present Dr. Froh-
locken has taken her into his protection, but that
can't go on.”
George shook his head.
“That's luck and genius," he said admiringly.
“You go ahead, old bird. You stick to it. It's
the best thing you've been in for years."
"But Mademoiselle de Melville"
"If she's satisfied, wot's the odds ? Maybe the
real Count is dead and buried and you're quite a
nice-looking fellow. Wot's she like ?"
For the first time the Count's face lit up with
genuine satisfaction.
"She's splendid!” he said simply, but emphat-
ically.
“Well then-sit tight!”
"I can't!"
"If you don't-" said George with his red face
very close to his brother's—"if you don't I shall


106
ROGUES & COMPANY
nce
gloves and smoothed them out carefully on his
knee.
"It was deuced nice of you to send me that
card, Theo," he drawled. “I was getting a bit
nervous about you, I promise you I was."
"I have no doubt,” she said coldly and iron-
ically.
"You don't need to be nasty. My alarm was
genuine"
"—and financial,” she suggested.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"I certainly don't pretend that finance plaved
no rôle in my anxiety," he admitted. “My duns
are pressing me worse and worse every day, and
if relief doesn't come from somewhere the crash
will and-well, I've explained the sequel to you
before.”
"Very often and at some length.” Her face
was impassive and only a slight tension about the
mouth betrayed that her teeth were hard set. “I
don't think we need discuss the matter any fur-
ther," she went on slowly. "It only makes me
angry and it does no good to either of us."
"Oh come!” he said, stroking his little fair
moustache, "you've pulled it off splendidly so far,
Theo_”
"I've pulled off nothing so far," she interrupted
passionately, “and what is more I am not going
to. That is what I wanted to tell you and why


ROGUES & COMPANY 107
I sent for you. Now you know. I meant to help
you—I started out with the full intention of car-
rying the wretched business through but—but now
I can't."
"Why not?” he asked. His small vacant-look-
ing face had flushed with consternation, but his
mouth was vicious and a little threatening. She
looked at him steadily, her white slender fingers
interlocked.
"Because I don't quite see after all-why I
should marry a man I don't care for," she said.
"Oh, I see. You might have thought of that
before. My dear Theo-it's too pretty an ex-
cuse. I simply don't believe it. You're afraid.”
"That is not true!"
Her companion smiled satirically.
"Are you quite, quite sure? Is there not at the
bottom of that scrupulous heart a little fear of
breaking the eleventh commandment—'Thou shalt
not be found out'?”.
"None,” she answered firmly. “I had already
counted the cost and you ought to know that I am
not a coward. From that point of view the situa-
tion is unchanged. There remains the Count de
Beaulieu."
"Certainly."
She got up and stood very erect. Her mouth
trembled at the corners, but she spoke without
faltering.


108 ROGUES & COMPANY
“I don't like him,” she said, “and I simply do
not choose to cheat him.”
“My dear Theo, if you will excuse my saying so,
those two statements are somewhat inconsistent.
Or do you only cheat the people you are fond of?
In any case, who is proposing to cheat him? He
is engaged to marry Mademoiselle Theodora de
Melville and Mademoiselle Theodora, fully
authorized so to speak, presents herself to be mar-
ried. What more do you want?"
"It's unfair to him," she persisted. “I don't
like him, but it is taking a cruel advantage of his
misfortune. He doesn't know me-he has for-
gotten everyone. If he marries me it is out of
chivalry-out of nobility ":
"_for which characteristics he has incurred
your displeasure” he put in with a sneer.
"I detest you!” she said deliberately.
"I know that, dear Theo. But frankly, all you
have said is beside the point. We counted on his
chivalry and nobility and all the rest of it, and
now you discover that these virtues are a stum-
bling block. Women are never satisfied.”
"I, at least, am satisfied to go no further," she
retorted.
Her companion was silent for a moment. He
was evidently at a loss for an answer and the en-
trance of the butler with a letter tray caused him
to give a smothered sigh of relief.


ROGUES & COMPANY 109
“The Doctor has told me to give you this tele-
gram, madam,” the man said. “It has just come
for him and he would be glad to see madam-
your ladyship—as soon as possible.”
“Very well.”
She took up the opened telegram and, when the
butler had left the room, unfolded it. She
glanced over the contents and then let the flimsy
paper flutter to the ground and laughed. The
laugh was a somewhat cheerless one, and her com-
panion bent down and picked up the apparent
cause with delicate fingers.
"I can't read French,” he said. “What's it all
about?"
"It is from the Count de Melville," she said
in a voice sharp with bitterness. “He begs to
inform Dr. Frohlocken that he has every reason
to suppose from the description that the person
whom Dr. Frohlocken has protected is his rene-
gade daughter. Under the circumstances, how-
ever, he forbids any further communication on the
subject. In other words the Countess Theodora
is disowned.”
The young man with the lavender gloves smiled.
"Most satisfactory," he said.
She turned on him furiously.
“What do you mean?”.
"Just what I say. The Count is nailed. His
chivalry and nobility won't allow him to desert a


IIO
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lonely maiden who has been flung off by her family
for his sake. I see myself at St. Mary's this
afternoon after all.”
She looked at him. A vivid flush had mounted
her cheeks and her grey eyes had grown hard and
bright.
“You miscalculate,” she said. "You underesti-
mate me."
“Does that mean you are going to back out?”
“Yes."
Her companion put his hand in his pocket and
drew out a couple of letters which he handed to
her.
"I don't make any appeal for myself," he said
in a businesslike tone. “I know well enough that
if the ocean swallowed me up to-morrow you
would only be too glad. But the letters will plead
for themselves. Pray read them—then you can
decide."
She took the letters from his hand reluctantly,
with her eyes on his face as though she suspected
some trick, and carried them to the window. Ten
minutes passed during which the young man stared
absently and apparently indifferently into the fire.
Then Mademoiselle Theodora came back and
faced him. She was very pale now and the black
eyelashes were wet with recent tears.
"You are very clever," she said with a little


ROGUES & COMPANY
III
broken laugh. “I congratulate you. Had your
talent been directed in another channel".
He waved his hand.
"Don't preach, Theo. I've heard all that be-
fore. What are you going to do about it?”
For a minute she said nothing, battling for her
voice. Then she broke down. Her sobs were in-
audible but their violence shook her slender frame
from head to foot and she leant against the man-
telpiece with her face buried in her arms. Her
companion rose to his feet. His expression was
coolly triumphant.
"Well?” he said.
"For their sake I shall go through with it,"
she said unsteadily.
"Thank you.” He took up his hat. "I shall
hope to hear from you in the next few days—as
soon as possible in fact-and afterwards you can
arrange to introduce me as your old friend, Mr.
Cecil Saunders." He laughed lightly. "Well,
good-bye, Theo. Good luck and all happiness!”
She made no answer and he lounged out of
the room and down stairs. In the hall he passed
Dr. Frohlocken who stared at him suspiciously,
but Mr. Cecil Saunders was evidently not a man
to be easily upset, and he continued on his way
undisturbed.
Dr. Frohlocken waited until the hall door had
banged on the unknown guest and then hurried
d


112 ROGUES & COMPANY
upstairs and softly opened the door of his old
"Museum." He peered in. Mademoiselle Theo-
dora was still by the mantelpiece and the sound of
her uneven breathing told him even more than
her attitude of complete abandonment. The torn
telegram lay at her feet and the Doctor nodded
and scowled in mingled sympathy and annoyance.
"Damned idiot!” he muttered and, closing the
door, crept away as softly as he had come.


CHAPTER VII
He was a rogue and he consorted with rogues.
At the tender age of five he had "pinched” apples
from some harmless body rejoicing in the name of
Mother Grumbage. He had posed as a prince
and decamped with the diamonds of a duchess.
He had stolen—inadvertently it is true—the sil-
ver of a man destined to befriend him in the hour
of need and now, so it appeared, he had bribed
Luck herself into becoming an active partner in
his nefarious business. At any rate the fickle lady
had thrust him into his present position without
the slightest assistance from himself. In one
evening he, Slippery Bill, had become Count de
Beaulieu, a young and wealthy nobleman, engaged
to be married to a charming lady of equally ex-
alted station, and nobody had so far disputed his
position, not even the person most entitled to do
so. The whole thing was miraculous and scarcely
credible—more than that-it was altogether
splendid. As he stood hesitating on Dr. Froh.
locken's doorstep he looked back on the last few
days as on a mad if not unpleasant dream. He
realised that for a man in his position he had done
113


114 ROGUES & COMPANY
extremely well by himself-that he had, in fact,
surpassed all previous records in high-class swin-
dling. Apple-pinching, fraudulent impersonations
and unwarranted removals of other people's prop-
erty were nothing compared to his present under-
taking—always supposing that he had the nerve
to carry it through. But of that he was now al-
most certain. His previous career warranted it,
and as the door opened and he passed the now
obsequious James he felt his self-confidence rise.
The man who can bear the scrutiny of a butler
can brazen out anything. Nor did the sudden ap-
pearance of Dr. Frohlocken, more than ever wild-
haired and bad-tempered, cause him more than a
slight start of natural apprehension. He saw that
something unusual had happened, but unusual
things were becoming—paradoxically—common-
place and he was prepared for everything.
"What is the latest news ?” he asked a trifle
wearily, for even surprises can become tedious.
“Who has turned up now?"
"For Heaven's sake go to her at once," Dr.
Frohlocken pleaded violently. “I've done it-
I've put my foot in it—when it comes to women-
a woman like that I lose my head. Thank God
you are marrying her! It was a telegram-from
her parents—and I sent it up without warning-
absolutely idiotic—and she's crying—fainting-I
don't know what".


ROGUES & COMPANY 115
De Beaulieu controlled the desire to finish the
flight of stairs in a couple of strides. Haste is
plebeian and, besides, there was no real need for
haste. If his heart thumped against his ribs it
was no doubt at the thought of the endless possi-
bilities which the telegram might contain and he
entered Mademoiselle de Melville's sitting-room
with as much nonchalance as he could muster. He
found her seated by the table, but as she heard the
door close she sprang up and faced him with
flushed and tear-stained cheeks which put all his
artificial sangfroid to flight. He came impulsively
to her side.
“The Doctor told me that you had had bad
news,” he said. “Is it anything very serious? I
am so awfully sorry."
“Bad news?” she sobbed and stared at him
blankly. “Who told you? How do you know?"
"The doctor told me that you had received a
telegram from your people," he explained some-
what taken aback.
“Of course.” She passed her handkerchief ner-
vously over her burning cheeks. “I had forgotten,
yes, of course, -he it is. I suppose you ought
to see it.” She picked up the crumpled bit of pink
paper and handed it to him. “There—you can
read it for yourself.”
But that was just what he could not do. The
pithy French phrases were Hebrew to him and


ROGUES & COMPANY 117
more effectually. Mademoiselle Theodora looked
at him and he flinched.
"Perhaps you mean that you have come to the
conclusion that our marriage is a mistake?" she
suggested slowly and sarcastically.
"Of course not!” he protested. “What an
idea! My dear girl”.
"It is not at all necessary to call me 'your dear
girl' in private,” she interrupted, with angry eyes.
"Not necessary perhaps, but pleasant.” He
felt that he was getting impertinent-he was cer-
tainly angry. She had flicked him on the raw
though he could not have explained how, and he
had some difficulty in hiding the fact.
"I merely meant to observe that it would grieve
me to come between you and those to whom you
belong," he said.
"I belong to no one," she retorted. "I have
no one in the world except—"
"Me?” he suggested with miraculously recov-
ered cheerfulness.
"Certainly not. Did I say so ?”
“You did not say so, but circumstances—"
“You are both stupid and ungenerous !" she
blazed. “You are constantly referring to my help-
less position and—”.
“Oh, I know I'm an utter scoundrel !” he in-
terrupted in a tone of profound injury which, on
closer inspection, might have seemed somewhat


118
ROGUES & COMPANY
unjustifiable, "but, after all, as we are to be mar.
ried this afternoon I think you might at least pre-
tend to have some feeling in the matter."
She looked at him with scornful, unhappy eyes.
"You do not expect me to love a man who has
completely forgotten my existence and who is only
marrying me out of a sense of duty, and whom I
am only marrying because I have to—".
"Now you are getting nasty again!" he pro-
tested.
"I can't help it. I am nasty by nature. Besides
you insist on looking at things from the wrong
point of view. We arranged from the beginning
that it was to be a matter of convenience-".
"_until further notice," he interposed.
"No notice has been given or shall be given."
Her face grew hard and determined but there was
a strange, intent look in her eyes which would
have startled him had he seen it. "If you would
rather get out of your bargain there is still time,”
she added slowly.
"Theodora !" He was now thoroughly aroused.
Her indifference piqued him. He had completely
forgotten that he was not the Count de Beaulieu
and had therefore no claim on her affection. He
had also completely forgotten that Mademoiselle
de Melville was a mere pawn in his vile conspiracy.
He felt increasingly injured and ill-used. “I shall


ROGUES & COMPANY
119
marry you if I have to hang for it!" he said be-
tween his teeth.
She shrugged her shoulders.
“In that case there is nothing more to be said."
There was a moment's angry silence. Then,
suddenly, he realised how pale and miserable she
looked in spite of her assumption of indifference
and his heart-steeped though it doubtless was in
untold and untellable crimes—softened unexpect-
edly. He came to her side and took her hand in
his.
"I've been a brute," he said. “I know there's
not the least reason why you should care for me
-I'm not worth it. If the truth were told ” he
choked and went on hurriedly—“I don't ask for
much, Theo-only if you could possibly trust
me-"
"I do trust you !" she broke in passionately. "I
trust you so much that I am sorry for you. You
don't know what sort of a person you are marry-
ing."
"Nor do you,” he said with truth and bitter-
ness.
"But I trust you all the same. Besides, of
course I know."
"Yes-of course,” he agreed hastily. "I meant
-would you trust me anyhow-whatever I did,
whatever I had done?”.
“Yes," she said. She held out her hand. The


120 ROGUES & COMPANY
Rogue hesitated. He was threatened by another
attack from his pet demon and he set his teeth
hard to hold back a headlong confession. None
of his previous villainies equalled this one-of
that he was sure—and yet she looked so helpless,
so lonely, so bewilderingly attractive in her frank
surrender. Besides—he was a rogue and why in
the name of all the saints in the criminal calendar
should he not act as one? He took the out-
stretched hand and kissed it. But in the end the
Demon got the better of him.
"Heaven make me more worthy of you!" he
said solemnly.
And if it was the first prayer that he had ever
uttered it had, at least, the advantage of being
sincere.
That afternoon a quiet ceremony was per-
formed in an unfashionable church in the West
of London. The bride, as the ladies' papers
would have said had they had the chance, looked
charming in a blue cloth costume, and was given
away by Dr. Frohlocken, the well-known scientist.
What the bridegroom did or looked like is unim-
portant. There was only one uninvited guest at
the ceremony—a person who sat at the end of the
church and played with his lavender-kid gloves-
and the witnesses consisted of the charwoman and
her husband.


ROGUES & COMPANY I21
Thus, "no just cause or impediment" interven-
ing, William Brown, alias Slippery Bill, became
not only a bogus Count but a most fraudulently
married man.


CHAPTER VIII
“STAND back there! Stand back!"
The guard waved his flag, a shrill whistle rose
above the general hubbub, doors were banged, a
wild-haired gentleman of obviously Semitic de-
scent, who had been exchanging voluble farewells
with a first-class passenger, was hustled on one
side and the Northern Express glided trium-
phantly out of the station.
The first-class passenger sank back into his seat
with a sigh of relief.
"I'm glad that's over!” he said.
His companion removed her hat, smoothed her
fair hair and settled herself comfortably among
her rugs.
“Are you?" she then enquired with polite in-
terest.
“Getting married is such a business,” he ex-
plained.
“It seems so. But this is my first experience."
Her tone was not encouraging. Moreover she
was staring out of the window, and it is notoriously
difficult to talk to a person who refuses to look at
122


124 ROGUES & COMPANY
“ 'Pon my word—I thought it would seem
well-callous on one's wedding day."
The shot was excellent, but the target merely
smiled and turned over another page of the mag.
azine.
“In an ordinary way your delicacy would be
justified,” she said. “As it happens, however,
our marriage is exceptional."
"Indeed—?"
“The circumstances attending it are excep-
tional, you will admit?”
“What circumstances ?” he asked obstinately.
"Mon pauvre ami-you know them as well as
I do."
Count Louis flinched. The slightest inclina-
tion on her part to burst into French terrified him.
Moreover her answer was conclusive and did not
admit of contradiction, and he was surprised at
his own dogged determination not to drop the
subject.
"It certainly is an extraordinary business," he
admitted meditatively as though continuing an
amicable discussion; “I should never have dreamed
that night when I woke up on the doorstep with
a broken head and no idea what had happened
to me or who I was, that a fortnight later I should
be a Count and a married man."
"I suppose not,” she agreed coldly. Never-
theless she looked up from her book with a faint
amicable and then I woke up
what had h


ROGUES & COMPANY 125
interest, and presently she added-evidently much
against her own will: “It must be uncomfortable
to wake up and find that one has lost one's mem-
ory.”
"I should think so! If it hadn't been for our
friend, Dr. Frohlocken, I have not the slightest
doubt that Constable X. would have bundled me
off to a pauper lunatic asylum. As it was—"
“_you found you were a missing French no-
bleman, heir to English estates and engaged to be
married to a runaway French girl whom you
couldn't even remember!”
He nodded—not quite so much at his ease.
"I couldn't remember anything," he apolo-
gised, “-not even myself. For all I knew I
might have been-well—anybody, you know."
The Countess Theodora smiled.
"The marriage part of the affair must have
been a shock,” she said thoughtfully.
"Not when I saw you."
"I did not ask for compliments."
"I'm not trying to pay any."
Her smile became mocking.
"At any rate you behaved like a knight sans
peur et sans reproche. You married the runaway.
It was noble of you.”
The Count blushed.
“Theodora_" he began impulsively.


126 ROGUES & COMPANY
She withdrew her hand—not unkindly but with
decision.
"All that is in defiance of our compact," she
reminded him.
“Confound the compact!”
"No-don't confound it-it would be a pity.
It is an excellent compact—so business-like and
simple. In marrying you, I settled the doubtful
matter of your identity; in marrying me-well,
as a disowned runaway my advantage was obvious.
But sentimentalities on either side are quite un-
necessary.”
“Then your girlhood's affection for me is
dead?” he enquired with profound gloom.
“Quite."
“Do you think—there is any likelihood of a
resurrection?"
"None.”
"Don't you think it's rather bad luck?"
“For whom?"
"For me, of course."
She gave a gay little laugh.
“Considering that you cannot even remember
me, the loss of my girlhood's affection cannot be
unbearable.”
The Count said something under his breath
and turned his attention back to the window.
The Countess went on reading and a long silence
intervened. The Count was in a state usually


128 ROGUES & COMPANY
.
“That is one thing we shall never be able to
have," she retorted.
"Thank Goodness!” said the Count with the
hypocritical gratitude of frenzy. Whereupon the
Countess Theodora smiled, and her smile was the
last thing in sweetness.
"I knew you were really glad," she commented.
"I am delighted you too feel like that. It makes
things so much nicer. I am sure we shall be ex-
cellent friends—in time.” She looked at him
expectantly as though awaiting a further attack,
but the Count covered his face with his hand, ap-
parently overcome by a sudden weariness. “I
think I shall try to go to sleep too,” she went on
with unalloyed affability. “Bon Soir, Louis."
“Bong Soir," in a gloomy growl.
She piled up her rugs to a comfortable pillow
and closed her eyes—or appeared to close them.
As a matter of fact her long dark lashes concealed
a narrow aperture through which she studied her
vis-à-vis with malicious curiosity. Was he look-
ing at her between his fingers or was he not?
Either way he annoyed her, and her annoyance
was increased by her inability to come to a deci-
sion. The Count remained motionless; his breath-
ing was peaceful and regular, and his fingers were
suspicious. Once she fancied she caught the
gleam of his eyes, but a sudden opening of hers
produced not so much as a movement, and a few


ROGUES & COMPANY 129
minutes later the Countess Theodora dropped
into a heavy sleep.
The Count noted the fact, and he also noticed
that she had inadvertently commandeered his
rug and that the window was open. He bore
the consequent rapid descent of his own temper-
ature patiently, fearful of disturbing her, and,
lulled by the rumble and roar of the train, he re-
lapsed into a half-frozen state of torpor. His
mind continued to work, however, against his
will, and in a very jerky and disconnected fashion.
Jumbled and distorted visions of the past few
weeks rolled themselves out before his mental
eye like a mad cinematograph film. Policemen,
bogus counts, runaway, enraged French parents,
distraught doctors, a whole galaxy of victims
whom he had basely deceived danced for a mo-
ment into the limelight and disappeared. Last
of all one face appeared and remained—a red,
grinning face, horribly familiar. The Count
shook himself, he rubbed his eyes. He told him-
self that he was dreaming and that he would
wake up in a moment—but the face remained.
Its expression became increasingly, disgustingly
friendly. And then a hand added itself to the
nightmare and cautiously, steadily, the big win-
dow of the railway carriage was pushed farther
down. Under happier circumstances, the Count
would have pulled the alarm cord or at least taken
self th...mself.' horribi.


ROGUES & COMPANY 133
them again George was standing stiffly respectful,
his wife was looking at him in mild wonder.
"I didn't know you had a valet,” she said.
"Nor did 1-I mean—I hadn't, but the faithful
fellow would follow me,”
“It's like this, your ladyship,” George put in
humbly but with gentle firmness. "His lordship
left me behind to look after something he had or-
dered for your ladyship and which wasn't quite
ready, but it arrived in time for me to catch the
train and I thought it better to bring the parcel
straight to his lordship.”
The Count stared open-mouthed. The aspi-
rates were in their place. The ruffi anly George
had become miraculously and instantaneously an
edition de luxe of the proverbial “gentleman's
gentleman."
"Yeser—that was how it was," the Count
assented hastily, in response to an admonitory
wink from George's off-side eye. "It was to have
been a little surprise for you, Theo—in fact,”
He broke off; where the surprise was coming from
he had no idea. He felt that he was up to his
neck in a horrid quagmire of deceit from which
there was no escape. It was Theodora herself
who came to the rescue.
“Oh, Louis, how beautiful!" she said softly.
He followed the direction of her eyes. They
rested on his hand with an expression of incred-


138 ROGUES & COMPANY
fer any more extracts from its contents and the
subsequent silence was glacial. Count Louis de
Beaulieu took a third helping of ham and eggs
out of pure panic and the entry of the waiter with
that morning's post completed his confusion.
The waiter was Bunmouth's pet prodigy and the
Count's nightmare. Rumour or local pride had
it that he could speak every known tongue, and
he certainly flavoured his conversation with a suf-
ficiently large quantity of foreign exclamations-
more or less profane-to justify the assertion.
The Count was a legitimate prey.
“Deux lettres pour Monsieur le Comte."
“Merci bieng."
"Et une pour Madame la Comtesse."
Madame la Comtesse said nothing at all, but
snatched her letter from the tray and Monsieur
le Comte realised with a sinking heart that his
manners were not as Continental as they should
have been. Evidently in France one does not say
"merci bieng”—one merely snatches. Chastened
and uneasy, he opened the long, legal looking en-
velope and hurried over the contents. At the
end he draw a quick sigh of relief. Messrs. Bil-
lington & Boles begged to inform him that the
matter of his inheritance was now satisfactorily
settled. The executors had expressed themselves
convinced by the proofs of his identity, and the
sum of £40,000 had been duly paid into the Bank


ROGUES & COMPANY 139
of England to his credit. Messrs. Billington &
Boles added that they hoped to have the honour
of attending to the Count de Beaulieu's affairs in
the future.
"£40,000!" said the Count under his breath.
He glanced involuntarily across the table. For
one very beautiful and illusionary moment the true
state of affairs was forgotten. He was the Count
de Beaulieu with £40,000 in cash, an estate in
Norfolk and a lovely wife. Fortune smiled upon
him, and he too smiled, indifferent to the extreme
dubiousness of his claim to these various posses-
sions.
As though aware that he was looking at her,
the Countess lifted her eyes. Her face was
flushed, and all the laughter and mockery had
disappeared. It seemed to him indeed that the
tears were very near the surface, and suddenly he
remembered that she too had received a letter.
From whom? From her parents? A reconcilia-
tion, perhaps? In that case his part was played
out. Chivalry would no longer require him to
offer his protection-he would be perfectly free
to bolt with the £40,000 and anything else per-
taining to the missing Count that he could lay
hands on. Nothing could be more propitious.
He was nothing to her and she was nothing to
him. It was curious that the fact left him unen-
offer hivalry wow that case 1:


140 ROGUES & COMPANY
thusiastic. On the contrary, he felt dully miser-
able.
"From France ?” he enquired at last with as-
surned indifference.
"No."
“Oh?” He wished she was not so curt. After
all, he had a right to know. He was her hus-
band in spite of everything. He intended to as-
sert his authority. “Might I enquire from whom
your letter is then ?” he said.
“You may.”
“Theodora-I expect an answer.”
“Do you?" In spite of her obvious trouble she
smiled, baffling, and truculent. “Well, as it hap-
pens I have no objection to answering. This let-
ter is from a friend—a Mr. Cecil Saunders.”
"Indeed?"
“And he is coming down to see me.”
“Oh-does it not occur to you that I might
object?”
"No, it does not. The idea, under the cir.
cumstances would be highly ridiculous."
"Indeed?"
She got up, still smiling, though now with a
touch of exasperation.
“Your repartee is a trifle monotonous, Louis,"
she said. “You should endeavour to cultivate a
greater variety and a little less pomposity. And


ROGUES & COMPANY 141
now for the present-au revoir. I am going out
in the grounds for some fresh air.”
Louis stifled a third "indeed?" and was left
staring angrily at his third and untouched helping
of ham and eggs. He wondered whether all
French women were so provoking-in which case
he thanked Heaven that he was a true-born Eng-
hishman even though a bad one. And yet—and
yet! He rose and pushed his chair viciously un-
der the table. One thing was clear in his mind
-he was not going to beat a retreat before this
Mr. Cecil Saunders. He could stick to his guns
and his wife even though all Scotland Yard were
after him. After all—there was no proof as yet.
And then he caught sight of George and the whole
precariousness of his situation revealed itself in
that grinning, unalterably amicable countenance.
“George !” he said curtly.
George put down his tray and with it his re-
spectful bearing and a good percentage of aspir-
ants.
"Well, Bill, dear!” he returned cheerfully.
"Wot's your call, old blighter?”
“Come here—and for pity's sake don't shout
like that. Look here-things can't go on like
this."
George agreed with a jerk of the bullet head.
“Now you're a-talkin' sense, my cough-drop,”
he said. “Wot concerns yours truly the joke's


144 ROGUES & COMPANY
drew out a handkerchief of doubtful antecedents
and mopped his eyes.
"You're beautiful, Bill," he said in accents of
stifled emotion, "_too beautiful, we've never 'ad
anythink so beautiful in the family before. You'll
die young~I knows you will, my poor misguided
brother."
"Don't jeer-I'm not mad—I'm in deadly earn-
est."
George looked up and put his finger vulgarly
to his nose.
“You ain't mad," he said, "and you ain't in
deadly earnest. It's worse than all that. When
a man with your talents starts bein' honest I
knows wot's wrong with 'im—'e's in love, that's
wot 'eis—and that's wot you are, me amatoor sky-
pilot !"
The Count's eyeglass and his jaw dropped si-
multaneously, but no answer occurred to him, and
by the time he had begun to digest the full pur-
port of the accusation the accuser had crept with
professional stealth into the Countess' bed-room.


CHAPTER X
MRS. PAGOT-CHUMP, American millionairess,
sunned herself on the covered verandah of Bun.
mouth Spa Hotel. Not since the day when Mr.
Pagot-Chump had made his record corner in
wheat had she felt the same glow of worldly suc-
cess. It was not a great success—no members of
the aristocracy were gathered round her-but it
was at least complete. On either hand the Spa's
celebrities, male and female, sipped their tea and
listened to her with the respect for millions which
is the only form of veneration known to the twen-
tieth century. Mrs. Pagot-Chump, elated and
affable, and charming, had just completed her
fourth description of the previous night's adven-
ture.
"It isn't the value of the pearls I mind," she
concluded pathetically. “James could get me a
finer set any day, but it's the associations, and I
guess associations can't be bought.”
"Indeed not,” said her neighbour, a young cu-
rate, whose expression eloquently added—"How
modest of you to say so."
"The pearls were given me on my wedding-
145


ROGUES & COMPANY 153
“Mrs. Pagot-Chump reminded me of our old
acquaintanceship,” he interrupted despairingly.
"The Count and I were great friends out in
the States,” Mrs. Pagot-Chump explained still
buoyant and conciliatory. “It's a real treat to
have met you, Countess, and if you two would do
me the honour to have lunch with me I'd be more
than delighted—”
“I thank you—you are most kind. Unfortu-
nately I must ask my husband to accompany me
at once. I have just discovered that my boxes
have been broken into—and—” She stopped
short. The Count closed his eyes in the instinc-
tive endeavour to shut out the coming catastrophe.
She had seen the jewel case in Mrs. Pagot-
Chump's hand. Nothing could save him now.
And yet for the second time in his short disturbed
honeymoon the catastrophe hung fire. From
afar off—as it seemed to him—Mrs. Pagot-
Chump's high-pitched voice was enquiring with
natural excitement as to the loss and he heard his
wife's cold level answer—"
"No, nothing of the least value was taken,
thank you. Still, the matter should be investi-
gated. Louis, if you could spare me a few min-
utes—?”
He opened his eyes and met her steady gaze
with a speechless gratitude. She had deliber-


154 ROGUES & COMPANY
ately saved him—that was the one thing which
stood out clearly in the chaos of his emotions.
“I will come with you at once," he said quickly.
“I am sure, under the circumstances, you will ex-
cuse us, Mrs. Pagot-Chump.".
Mrs. Pagot-Chump bowed her head graciously.
She scented mischief and there was already a
gleam of understanding in her keen eyes.
"Meet you both again, Count," she said. “And
don't forget our bargain !”.
In painful silence the Count accompanied his
wife down the path which led back to the hotel.
The moment Mrs. Pagot-Chump had dropped out
of sight the Count stopped short. His face was
flushed but resolute.
"Theodora,” he said, "you were splendid-I
can't thank you enough-
"I do not want you to thank me at all," she in-
terrupted, "I did it for my own sake. I did not
want to admit that-that I was married to a
a~"
"—a what?” he demanded.
"I don't know what to call you."
”-a scoundrel ?” he suggested bitterly.
"If you like to dub yourself—yes."
"All the same-I owe you an explanation," he
persisted with the determination of despair. "It's
extremely hard"
“So I should imagine." Her lips curled con-


CHAPTER XI
SUSAN, scullery-maid-in-chief to the Bunmouth
Spa Hotel, stood by the scullery window and
peeled multitudinous potatoes. At intervals a
white-capped head appeared round the door and
a masculine voice, softened by the dulcet influence
of the French language, enquired patiently if
Mademoiselle Suzanne was not yet finished with
“ces maudites pommes de terre.” Twice Made-
moiselle Suzanne, with her eye on the window
which looked out on to the stable-yard, replied by
a sniff, the third time she waxed indignant.
"If you mean the taters, why don't you call
them by their proper name?" she demanded.
"Taters is taters, and they won't be done for an-
other half hour. So now you know !"
Thereupon she began to sing in the peculiarly
high-pitched tuneless way for which scullery-maids
are noted, and Monsieur Bonnet shook his head
ruefully.
"Thou art not gentille, Mademoiselle Su-
zanne," he said. "Thou 'ast not been gentille
for many days past."
157


158 ROGUES & COMPANY
“What’s ‘gentille’?” she enquired freezingly.
"And why will you say 'thee'? 'Tain't English?"
Monsieur waved his arms with a movement of
despair.
"English is a language without tenderness," he
began. "I try to soften her—I try to fill her with
ze tendresse of ze French—but it avails me not.
She remains ze language of ze barbares—".
“Barbers, indeed!” Susan interrupted with en-
ergy. “I don't see wot you need to be so
haughty about. You're only a cook yourself.”
"Hélas, Suzanne, you ’ave not understood ".
“Go along with you !" Susan retorted crisply.
Monsieur Bonnet found no answer to this. He
stood with folded arms and knitted brows and
eyed her with the gloomy despair of a defeated
Napoleon. No one, not even the hotel manager,
dared to speak to him, Monsieur Bonnet, world-
famous gastronomer, as did this little fair-haired,
blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked bundle of impertinence.
Why did he bear it? Why did he not send her
to the right-about as he had done dozens of other
clumsy but willing spirits ? Monsieur Bonnet
shook his head over himself. Therein lay the
curse of the artistic temperament; against tears
and entreaties he had a heart of adamant, but fair
hair, rosy cheeks and blue eyes could blind him to
anything and everything and melt him to a soft-
ness unequalled by his own butter. So he sighed


ROGUES & COMPANY 159
and scratched his little black Imperial and sighed
again.
"Ever since that fellow 'as been 'ere thou art
not more the same to me,” he said pathetically.
“It is 'Monsieur Bonnet this' and 'Monsieur Bon-
net that and not once 'ast thou called me 'Fran-
çois' as in the old days. Suzanne—"
"My name's 'Susan'," interrupted his tormentor
with energy. "I'm English, I am, and I don't
hold with these nasty foreign words."
"Ah!" Monsieur Bonnet brought his clenched
fist down on the table with a gust of violence which
sent a couple of potatoes rolling under the sink.
“Ah, I ’ave understood! It is zat Georges, zat
sneak, zat poltroon, zat rogue of a gentleman's
gentleman! Shall I tell him I believe not in ze
Count de Beaulieu. 'E call 'imself a Frenchman
and when Jean speak to 'im 'e answer as no
Frenchman ever speaked. And this George, this
calf who makes 'is eyes at thee-"
"Please remember that you are speaking of a
friend of mine,” Susan broke in with dignity.
"Friend! I say 'e is a rogue—a—".
"Now then, who's calling me names?" came
through the window. Both combatants started
-Monsieur Bonnet with fury, Susan with a
slightly exaggerated delight. George, very
spruce, with oiled hair and neatly waxed mouse
tache, was leaning against the window-sill, an ex.


166 ROGUES & COMPANY
cess
usual melting process in Monsieur Bonnet's heart
began.
"Suzanne!" His voice grew soft and persua-
sive, “Suzanne-weep not. I am a much tried
man-if I am a little angry who shall wonder?
Voyons, for the hundredth time-let there be
peace between us wilt thou marry me, ma
petite ?"
· But Susan, still on aristocratic heights, merely
emitted a sniff of inexpressible hauteur.
“Do you think,” she said eyeing him from head
to foot, "do you really think I'd marry a cook!"
And with this Parthian shot she flounced out
into the kitchen.


168 ROGUES & COMPANY
a
"Wot a nasty ideal” he said. "I'll think
about it."
"Because if you do, take this letter and give it
to the Countess of Beaulieu. Say that I'll wait
for her in the garden.”
“Aren't you afraid she'll die of joy?"
“You are an extremely impertinent fellow. I
understand that the Count is giving a reception.
Kindly deliver this letter at once."
"Permit me to lick your boots for you," George
implored with mock humility. But the stranger
had apparently no use for this offer and, after a
moment's consideration, George pocketed the
half-crown and the letter, and having performed
a deep bow proceeded upstairs.
He found the Count de Beaulieu's suite evi-
dently prepared to receive guests, but the Count
and Countess themselves, who stood at either end
of the room, watched the waiter's proceedings as
though a funeral ceremony was in progress. Since
the episode of the pearl-necklace a kind of armed
neutrality had been established between them, but
the compact, such as it was, was at the moment
of George's entry undergoing a serious rupture.
The skirmish had been opened by the Count, who
had innocently remarked that Dr. Frohlocken's
train must be overdue.
"I cannot think why you have invited him at
all," the Countess had retorted.


ROGUES & COMPANY 169
"We owe Dr. Frohlocken a great deal.”
“Do we?” with bitter significance.
"I do, at least."
"I suppose that is why you have invited this
this person—this Mrs. Bugot-Chump_”.
“Pagot-Chump, Theodora.”
“Her name is nothing to me. I consider it an
-an insult to have asked her.” Tears had been
very manifest, and the Count had made a valiant
attempt to avert the threatening storm.
"My dear Theo, I can't help myself. It seems
I am under some obligation to her. My loss of
memory does not do away with the fact that I
have a past—"
"So it seems !"
"And I expect you to treat my friends as your
friends," the Count had finished, goaded by the
sneer.
"If-if I were in the least inclined to be in-
terested I should suspect that there was more be-
tween you than you care to confess ".
"My dear girl" But the unconscious truth
of the suggestion cut short the Count's flood of
eloquent protest and only George's entry pre-
vented the victor from following up the pursuit.
"If you please," said George, still flushed with
indignation, "there's a gentleman in the garden
waiting to see your Ladyship, and he sent this
letter.” George's manner lacked its usual polish,


170 ROGUES & COMPANY
but neither Theodora nor Louis were in a mood
to notice the fact. Theodora had grown pale,
and she tore open the envelope with trembling
fingers.
“It's from Cecil Saunders,” she said at last,
meeting her husband's eye with defiance. "He's
in Bunmouth."
“Indeed. And pray what does he want?"
"He wants to see me.”
"Well, I object. We are waiting to receive
our friends,"
"I shall bring him here, then."
Quite suddenly the Count lost his temper.
"I forbid you, Theodora.”
"I expect you to treat my friends as yours,"
quoted the Countess mockingly.
“Theodora—if I were inclined to be jealous,"
“Do try to be more originall" said the Count-
ess with annoyance.
The Count hesitated. Then his tone softened.
"Please-Theodora—consider my feelings.
It's absurd to talk of jealousy, I know, but still
you are my wife-and—and I don't know this
Saunders—in fact none of our party know him.
It will spoil everything. I don't want to seem
unreasonable, but I have a feeling that I shall
dislike the fellow_".
"Well, I dislike this Mrs. Bagot-Chump"
"Theo, I have explained the circumstances al-


ROGUES & COMPANY 171
most as often as I have told you the unfortunate
lady's name. I am under obligations to her,"
“And I am under obligations to my-my
friend."
“That is another thing altogether."
“Anyhow I shall bring him up here."
"If you do—"
The end of the threat—if there was an end-
was lost. The Countess swept out of the room
amidst a frou-frou of silk and chiffon, and the
Count, with a gesture of resignation, turned to
find George seated in the armchair by the fire-
place with his feet upon the fender.
“What on earth are you doing?" the Count
demanded.
“Accustoming myself to my noo situation,"
George explained pleasantly.
“Get up at once. Supposing someone came in
and found you"
"—that's what they're going to do, dear bird.
Now, don't you get rorty—there ain't nothing to
excite yourself about.”
"For pity's sake explain.”
George waved his hand towards the door.
“That's my last job,” he said cryptically.
“I don't see-"
"In plain English, brother, I've guy notice.
I'm fed up, I am. I 'ave borne with a lot to
please you and come up to my fraternal duties,


172 ROGUES & COMPANY
but when it comes to a bloomin' French cook
pourin' potato-skins over me-well, I strike, and
I've struck. You'll 'ave to look for a new valet,
dear one."
"Thank Heaven," said the Count fervently.
"You'd better be off at once, hadn't you?" he
suggested.
"Me off? Oh, I ain't in no 'urry. I enjoys a
little 'family party' like this.".
"Look here, though, you must clear out before
people come."
"Mem? Not a bit of it. You introduce me
as your cousin, Count de Bontemps, who's been
disguised as your valet for grave political rea-
sons. They'll swallow me like butter."
"You—!" The unhappy young man folded his
arms in an attitude of utter exasperation. “You
a Count!!”
George leered.
"I'm just as good a count as you are any day,"
he observed. “'Ave you forgotten the tender
bond of brotherhood?"
"Why, you can't even behave like a gentleman,"
burst in the Count, in a falsetto of indignation.
George got up; pulled down his waistcoat. It
was as though a magician had waved a wand over
him.
“My dear Beaulieu," he said, “in the matter
of manners I believe I have nothing to learn from


ROGUES & COMPANY 173
a person who screams like a madman and appears
to forget that by the unwritten laws of hospi.
tality "
"For mercy's sake don't jump about from your
vulgar cockney to that high-flown stuff," his
brother pleaded. "It makes my head whirl.”
"It's all part of the trade," George explained
airily. “I can be anything at any minute. Mrs.
Jubbers is like that too. You should see her as
the Duchess of Kolderado—".
"I don't want to see Mrs. Jubbers as anything."
"That's a pity. I thought of trotting her
down as a mutual aunt. Well, never mind, I
daresay one new-found Count is enough for an
afternoon. As I was saying, I am a man of
many parts. In private life or during compulsory
rest-cures I drop 'hs.' At other times I can
talk any lingo you like. Would you like a sam-
ple of French—?”.
"Good Heavens-no!"
Voices sounded outside. Monsieur de Beau-
lieu heard his wife's laugh a little uneasy, he
thought-and then a detestable masculine bass.
George leant forward, his face had become dia-
bolically threatening.
"If you don't give me out as your cousin, I'll
give you away,” he said in a sepulchral whisper.
"I'll show you up—I'll tell 'em all you're a 'um-
bug, a common cheat wot's gone and swindled a


174 ROGUES & COMPANY
poor trusting girl into a marriage under false
pretences"
“For Heaven's sake"
" I'll tell 'em that you've cheated your bene-
factor-that you stole his plate the very night he
befriended you—".
"George-hold your tongue".
George leered hideously.
“And I'll talk French to you!" he said, as a
culminating blow.
The door opened. The Countess Theodora
led the way, followed by Mrs. Pagot-Chump
whose gorgeous afternoon "creation" in mauve
crêpe de chine was finished off by the fatal pearl
necklace. Behind appeared the gloomy face of
Dr. Frohlocken and a tall fair-haired young man
whom Monsieur de Beaulieu hated at sight.
"You see we've all come together," said the
Countess Theodora cheerfully.
"So delightful!” murmured Mrs. Pagot-
Chump, and pressed her host's hand with an arch
smile. "I guess we don't need any introdoocing,
do we Count?"
Dr. Frohlocken greeted his recent patient with
a depressed friendliness.
"Didn't want to come," he declared, with sci-
entific honesty. “Hate hotel life. But I felt re-
sponsible. One never knows how a case like
yours may turn out, especially when treated in


ROGUES & COMPANY 175
that criminal fashion. However, glad to see
you happy, at any rate."
The Count was relieved to hear that he looked
happy. He felt he must be making progress in
the art of deception and wondered if Theodora
shared his talent or whether her smile was gen-
uine. It was certainly defiant, and her bright
eyes and flaming cheeks seemed to challenge him
to do his worst.
“Louis, this is my old friend, Mr. Saunders,”
she said. "Mr. Saunders—this is my husband.”
The two men bowed, and the Rogue successfully
performed the feat of grinding his teeth and smil-
ing at the same time. His hatred for this lan-
guid individual was increased by the growing con-
viction that he played a sinister part in his wife's
life. What that part was he had no time to con-
sider and his seething indignation was suddenly,
brutally cooled.
"George-please order tea to be sent up—"
the Countess Theodora was saying.
Involuntarily the husband clutched at the Lucky
Pig concealed in his waistcoat pocket. Then he
turned. George, modestly awaiting attention,
stood on the hearthrug and smiled the kindly ex-
asperating smile of the superior being.
"I think, my dear de Beaulieu," he said with a
slight drawl, “I think it is time you offered the


178 ROGUES & COMPANY
Before the eyes of his horrified relative,
George, late of No. 10 'Urbert Street, offered his
arm and the two led the way into the adjoining
room. Mr. Saunders with Dr. Frohlocken, both
obeying an imperative gesture from their hostess,
brought up the rear, and for a moment husband
and wife were left alone.
"You have indeed astonishing friends," the
Countess Theodora observed sarcastically.
"I thought-” began her husband with desper-
ate self-possession.
“I know just what you are going to say: 'Live
and let live. But you will admit that I have
stranger things to accept from you than you from
me."
“Theo—you said once you would trust me."
Her eyes softened a little and he saw a new
expression creep into her face-part timid, part
appealing and part defiant.
“Louis—how can I trust you after all that has
happened?”
Instinctively he felt that she was offering him a
loophole of escape, and he seized it eagerly.
“I'd do anything—” he began. “Anything,
Theodora.”
“Will you give me £300 ?"
He looked at her in amazement. It was crude
-brutal, almost vulgar.
"Why, only the other day it was fifty—"


ROGUES & COMPANY 179
“I know, I know." She held out her hands
pleadingly. Surely it is a little thing to ask, and
I want it so badly."
"You want it?” She saw the surprise flash up
and every trace of colour faded from her cheeks
-"or-or is it for him ?” he asked hoarsely.
Her eyes met his without flinching.
“It is for him.”
"Is that the nature of your obligation ?".
"Partly."
He began to pace about the room in a fever
of unrest.
“Theodora—won't you trust me? If this man
is using any undue influence over you—".
"Oh, no, it isn't that-my obligation is one
of feeling."
“You mean-you-care for him?"
She bowed her head. He drew himself up
with a hard effort. In the next room he heard
George relating his recent adventure with the
Bunmouth Hotel's chef and Mrs. Pagot-Chump's
high-pitched laughter. But for the first time he
did not care. Everything had become indifferent
-worthless to him.
"I'm sorry," he said at last. "It would have
been better if you had told me before. As it is
-you shall have the money."
“Louis” He heard the sob in her voice, but
he did not see her face. He turned away with


180 ROGUES & COMPANY
compressed lips, and before she could speak again
a waiter entered with the letter tray.
"A telegram for you, your Lordship."
Monsieur de Beaulieu took the envelope and
tore it open. There was a moment's silence.
Then he laughed a curious mirthless little laugh.
“Louis-what is it-have you bad news?”
"Nothing—unexpected.” He passed his hand
over his forehead. “Theo-please ask George
- I mean Bontemps to speak to me.”
“Yes, Louis,” she said with a new meekness.
He heard the laughing voices in the next room
drop to an abrupt silence and the next minute
George, flushed and elated, stood in the doorway.
"Wot's the matter?” he asked boisterously and
with painful relapse into his native dialect. “Why
don't you come along in, you weeping willow,
you? I've just been telling Mrs. Chump about
Monsieur Bonnet and we've sent for 'im just for
the fun of seein' 'is face when 'e finds who 'e
threw his potato at. Why, Bill—".
"Read that!" said the Rogue.
George, Count de Bontemps, took the crum-
pled piece of pink paper and spreading it out read
aloud:
"Count de Beaulieu and wife travelling to Bun.
mouth by the afternoon express. Arrive 5:30.
Look out.
“Washington Jones."


ROGUES & COMPANY 181
Instinctively both men glanced at the clock.
The hands marked 5:45. The Count de Bon-
temps whistled softly.
"There's a Count too many in this game and
that's me," he said. "I'm off, brother, dear, and
if you take my advice—” Then suddenly he
smiled a beautiful smile worthy of a better
cause. "No, Bill—no, we'll face it out-we'll
face it out, old bird."
And, slipping his arm through that of his fel-
low-conspirator, he dragged him, feebly resisting,
into the next room.


CHAPTER XIII
MONSIEUR FRANÇOIS BONNET divested him-
self of his apron and flung his white cap down on
the table, like a knight weary of his armour.
"I go," he said solemnly. "I go—it is my
duty, and a Frenchman never yet refused to per-
form his duty. Ze manager 'as said to me,
'François Bonnet-apologise! You ’ave thrown
potato-skins at a guest, and for ze honour of ze
hotel you must apologise like a gentleman.' Eh
bien, I go. I will make my amends to this scélé-
rat, but I will not forget. Ah, no, I'll not for.
get!”
Susan tossed her head.
"If you had listened to me, it would never have
happened,” she said condescendingly. "I knew
at once he was a gentleman. But perhaps you
don't know the sort. You will look silly.”
Monsieur turned a melancholy brown eye upon
her.
“Disloyal one!” he said bitterly. "What is it
to thee what I look? Through thy faithlessness
am I 'umbled in ze dust. Is that not enough?”
“Oh, go along !” said Susan cheerfully.
182


ROGUES & COMPANY 183
Monsieur Bonnet drew out an embroidered
handkerchief and laid it ceremoniously on the
table.
"Little did I think when thou gavest me this
first gift that I should return it to thee thus," he
said. “But indeed all is over. Go then to thy
Count and forget one who loved thee wiz an
'onourable 'eart. Farewell.”
"See you later!” said Susan with the haughty
aloofness of a Countess in embryo.
As Monsieur Bonnet, heavy of step and heavier
of heart, reached the ground floor he became
aware of voices, raised in hot altercation, which
came from the entrance hall. Monsieur Bonnet,
who had been making for the back staircase,
changed his course, and made for the front ones
instead. Which proves that Monsieur Bonnet
was not wholly free from the weakness of curi-
osity. Two new arrivals, barricaded in the midst
of an astonishing quantity of foreign looking lug-
gage, were engaged in a loud discussion with the
perplexed and heated hotel manager. Monsieur
perceived that the lady and gentleman were both
young and of the type that is briefly classified as
"newly married.” Both were below the medium
height; the gentleman was dark and excitable,
with a fiercely waxed little moustache, the lady
was fair and fluffy and placid, with a tendency to
plumpness. Monsieur Bonnet had noticed these


184 ROGUES & COMPANY
peculiarities and was on the point of resuming
his penitential pilgrimage when the manager, per
ceiving him, signalled to him like a ship in dis-
tress.
"Monsieur Bonnet,” he said in an excited un-
dertone, "you are a man of tact, and perhaps you
can manage your own countrymen better than I
can. Go and ask the Count de Beaulieu if he
would be so kind as to spare me a few minutes.
It is a matter of importance.
"The Count is with guests," said Monsieur
Bonnet, his eye on the strange couple, who had
relapsed into a heated silence. “Can I not offer
him some reason?”
"Say—that-well, you'd better tell him the
truth. Say that a gentleman is here who says
he is the Count de Beaulieu "
"And that he is a fraud, a humbug," put in
the new arrival fiercely, and with a wild and
threatening wave of the arms.
Monsieur Bonnet drew a deep sigh of infinite
satisfaction.
"I go,” he said. "I go quicker than ze light-
ening and wiz ze greatest joy."
Thus it was that when Monsieur Bonnet was
ushered into the presence of his enemy he came
with the air of a conqueror. George, who was
seated by the tea-table next to Mrs. Pagot-Chump,


ROGUES & COMPANY 185
received him with a gracious and graceful move-
ment of the hand.
"Ah, vous voilà, Monsieur le Chevalier de la
Pomme de Terre,” he said gaily.
Monsieur Bonnet returned the recognition with
a stare and a chilly bow.
"I ’ave come to make the expression of my
regrets,” he said stiffly in English.
"Pray consider the matter forgotten,” George
assured him. “Your dinners should soften the
heart of your deadliest enemy."
"—and Iave come also on ze part of ze Count
de Beaulieu” Monsieur Bonnet persisted with dan-
gerous calm. “Ze Count and Countess 'ave just
arrived and 'e begs to inform Monsieur de Beau-
lieu that 'e is a fraud and a 'umbug and zat 'e
would be glad of a moment's speak wiz 'im."
The Count rose slowly to his feet, impelled by
George's determined eye.
"Absurd !” he heard himself say from a long
way off.
"Impertinence !” said George, passing Mrs.
Pagot-Chump the sugar. "Must be a fraud. Go
and see that he is turned out, Louis. Did you ever
hear of such a thing, Mrs. Pagot-Chump?"
Mrs. Pagot-Chump, with recollections of New
York, showed a face of blank indignation.
"Never!" she said.
Louis meanwhile looked round the room like


186
ROGUES & COMPANY
a man who is taking a last farewell of his sur.
roundings. He encountered his wife's wondering
gaze and Saunders' supercilious stare. The one
filled him with a biting remorse for the wrong
he had done, the other with an obstinate desire
to go on doing it. He had cheated her but, scoun-
drel though he was, he felt that he was nothing
like as big a scoundrel as this pale-eyed wastling.
It was his duty to protect his wife against herself.
He squared his shoulders.
"If Mrs. Pagot-Chump would excuse me for
a moment” he began.
Mrs. Pagot-Chump bowed.
“And Mrs. Pagot-Chump will come down and
legitimise you,” said George jocosely, but with
significance.
Mrs. Pagot-Chump smiled a smile that was not
altogether happy. The possibility that this new
arrival was the ingratiating foreigner who had
beguiled many an unreturned dollar out of James
Pagot-Chump's pocket had already presented it-
self to her astute mind. But she was a woman of
courage.
"Of course,” she said. "I guess I'll go bail
for you, Count.”
With this assurance the Rogue followed Mon-
sieur Bonnet into the manager's private room.
As William Brown, at any rate, he was beginning
to believe in himself. The sword of Damocles


188 ROGUES & COMPANY
with temper, and the late William Brown glanced
involuntarily in the direction indicated. For the
first time he became aware that a lady was seated
by the fireside. She looked up and smiled placidly.
The Rogue clenched his fists. This then was the
woman for whom Theodora had been so basely
deserted. The last spark of remorse died out.
“You say you are Count de Beaulieu," he said
with the severity of innocence. "Have you any
proof to offer?"
“Proof? Proof? I have papers—hundreds
of papers” the infuriated Frenchman dragged
out his pocket, but his impersonator waved the
offer on one side.
"Papers can be forged,” he said. “You are
aware, perhaps that the Count de Beaulieu in-
herits a considerable fortune from his English
Grandfather?"
“Aware? Of course I am aware. It is for
that that I have come to this wretched country.”
"Then no doubt your bankers and the executors
will legitimise you?"
The Frenchman snorted.
"I have arrived yesterday from America,” he
retorted. “I have had no time"
William Brown smiled affably.
"That is a pity," he commented, “because the
executors of the late Lord Sudleigh have ac-
knowledged me."


ROGUES & COMPANY,
189
“Comment!!"
The manager smiled with a dawning relief.
After all, the first week's bill had been paid, and
people who pay their bills inspire confidence.
"I might perhaps telephone to your bankers,
Monsieur le Comte?” he suggested apologetically.
“By all means," William Brown asserted
At this the Frenchman, who had been reeling
round the room in a transport of impotent fury,
came to a standstill. By a supreme effort he at.
tained that state which in French passes for calm.
“Wait!” he said. “I have thought. There is
a friend of mine here—a Madame Pagot-Chump.
It is for her I have come. I knew her in New
York. She will recognise me. Send for her."
"Mrs. Pagot-Chump's evidence will no doubt
be helpful,” remarked the manager tentatively.
"By all means," Brown agreed.
The manager made for the door.
“With your permission, gentlemen, I will go
myself and explain to Mrs. Pagot-Chump and ask
her to spare us a few moments." .
"You will find her in my wife's apartments,"
· Brown added.
The Count started and William Brown smiled.
He had taken out his Lucky Pig and was sur-
reptitiously caressing it with his forefinger. The
good luck which had made Theodora and Mrs.
Pagot-Chump mistake him for this man was ut-


190 ROGUES & COMPANY
terly incomprehensible, but he had begun to be-
lieve in it. Meanwhile the manager had closed
the door softly behind him and the Frenchman
advanced threateningly.
“You are a swindler, sir, and you know it," he
said.
William Brown confronted him. At that mo-
ment the thought of Theodora and her betrayal
at the hands of this man made him dangerous.
"I dare say I do," he said slowly and distinctly
“but I'd rather be a swindler than a scoundrel."
"Sir—you insinuate-?”
"I insinuate nothing. I affirm. Do you deny
that you wrote to the Countess Theodora de Mel.
ville asking her to come to England to marry you
in defiance of her parents wishes?"
"I do not deny it."
"And you married this lady ?"
“Of course—"
"Then I say you are a scoundrel and I regret
nothing that I have done."
The Frenchman recoiled. His expression
changed from rage to alarm.
"C'est un fou!" he murmured distractedly. “Un
fou!”
But at that moment the door opened and, catch-
ing sight of Mrs. Pagot-Chump's gaily adorned
person, he advanced with outstretched hands.
"Ah, Madame, you are come like an angel to de-


ROGUES & COMPANY
197
turning from America. Pending enquiries,
Messrs. Thomas and Blithe felt it necessary to
close the Count de Beaulieu's account. They ex-
pressed regrets, but their instructions from the
executors of the late Lord Sudleigh's will left
them no alternative. The recipient of this intel-
ligence felt the blood slowly recede from his face.
He looked up, fearing that the change might
have been noticed, and saw that his wife was
white to the lips.
“Are you about to faint, both of you?" Dr.
Frohlocken enquired with cold professional in-
terest.
The Count, once again admonished under the
table, recovered himself. In an instant he had
reached his wife's side and had placed his arm
protectingly about her.
"Theodora,” he said, "what is the matter?
Have you had bad news?"
For a full minute she did not answer. Her fair
head rested against his arm and, to his amaze-
ment, he felt that she was clinging to him like a
frightened child.
“Theodora !” he coaxed, with a long suppressed
tenderness.
Her eyes opened and she looked up at him.
A wave of wondering surprise seemed to swamp
for a moment the underlying fear.
"It's from my-my father," she stammered.


198 ROGUES & COMPANY,
"He has forgiven us—he is coming over-to-
morrow." But she did not offer him the letter
nor did he ask to see it. Knowing that it was
written in the French language he had not the
slightest desire to reveal his astonishing ignorance
of what was supposed to be his own tongue, and
he contented himself with a non-committal cough.
Dr. Frohlocken gazed from one to the other with
alert attention.
"Your reaction to good news, my dear lady,"
he remarked, “is quite unusual and most inter-
esting. One might almost suppose, judging super-
ficially—"
The Countess rose unsteadily to her feet. She
still held her letter tight clenched in her hand,
and her eyes sought her husband's with the same
look of mute appeal.
"I think-I shall rest a little in the next room,"
she said faintly. “The shock-you know. Dr.
Frohlocken—your arm!"
That gentleman responded with clumsy alacrity,
and a moment later the Count and George were
alone. The Count continued to stare at the door
through which his wife had passed, as though he
had seen a vision, and George, who was eminently
practical, coughed.
"Wot's up?” he enquired briefly, and with a
distressing return to his native intonation.


200 ROGUES & COMPANY
“Well, I don't know. You downed that fellow
round by Blake's pretty neatly. I don't know
whether 'e recovered but—".
“George, for pity's sake don't talk about things
of that sort! You know I can't remember them
and they are—simply unbearable. Anyhow, this
is different. I can't harm a man she's fond of-
even though I think he's a scoundrel."
George shook his head.
"You're off colour, Bill dear," he lamented.
“You wouldn't ’ave turned a hair over a little job
like that a year ago. However, it's love's young
dream that's upset you, I suppose. But look 'ere,
to get back to business—how much filthy lucre
'ave you got for our little trip?"
The Count started, overwhelmed by this new
idea.
"Money? Why, I don't believe I've got £20
in the world. I gave my wife £300 last night.”
"Wives is expensive luxuries,” George com-
mented gloomily. “Don't you saddle yourself with
another, Bill dear."
"I never shall,” Monsieur de Beaulieu returned
with a tragic glance at the closed door,—"even if
I had the chance," he added, as a melancholy
after-thought.
"And you won't have much chance unless we
can raise the wind some'ow," George observed.
He was silent a moment, contemplating his brother


ROGUES & COMPANY 201
with a half-amused cunning. Then he slapped
his knee. “It's a lifer if you get caught, Bill,"
he said. “You don't know wot a little lot the
beaks ’ave got against you—thirty burglaries,
fourteen fraudulent impersonations, twenty for-
geries, three cases of manslaughter, not to men-
tion bigamy. Why, an ordinary 'uman life won't
be 'alf long enough! You wouldn't like that,
would you?”
"I'm sure I shan't care much," was the bitter
answer.
"Well, wot about the poor Countess wot you've
deluded so? D'yer think it'll be a nice thing for
'er wot's come of a noble French family to see
'er 'usband in the dock, eh?”
George was sinking deeper and deeper in the
sloughs of cockneyism, and the unhappy Count
winced.
“No, no, I must spare her that," he agreed
hoarsely. “Besides—I couldn't face her. She
trusted me, you know, and upon my word I'd have
made her happier than either that blackguard
Count or that Saunders fellow could have done.
But the luck's been against me and I must let
her go. It would be horrible to see her when she
hears that I'm only a common rogue.”
"'Old on there! Don't you go calling names.
Hours is a honourable profession if you looks on
it in the right light. Besides, you're getting washy,


202 ROGUES & COMPANY
brother, and you can keep all that for the beak
when you pleads 'extenuating circumstances'.
Look 'ere, I've got an idea, old bird.” He picked
up a copy of the “Bunmouth Daily Chronicle" and
pointed out the social paragraph entitled “Latest
Arrivals." "See that?"
"See what?"
"If you can't read at your time of life you
ought to be ashamed. Listen to this? Mr. John
Lancaster, the well-known Australian financier who
is travelling over Europe in connection with his
recent mysterious loss, has arrived for a few days'
rest in Bunmouth! Now, how does that strike
you, brother?”
The Count put his hand involuntarily to the
back of his head as though perplexed by some
vague memory.
"The name sounds familiar," he said hesitat-
ingly. “I seem to have heard it somewhere."
"Of course you have, you Chatham & Dover
express, you. Why he's known everywhere and
fairly oozes with chink. And I tell you wot, sweet
innocent, we leave by the night train and Mr. John
Lancaster's cash-goes with us."
The Count recoiled.
"You can't-you won't do it!" he stammered.
“Can't I? I've got a little friend below stairs
who'll make it as easy as going to sleep. Just
you keep an eye on yours truly and I'll show you


ROGUES & COMPANY
211
first few lines. And very slowly a light of triumph
spread over his sallow countenance.
"You mean-that's him ?" he said.
“That's him," said Mr. Washington Jones,
with a corresponding lack of grammar.
“Bah!” said Monsieur Bonnet to no one in
particular, but with the satisfaction of victory.


CHAPTER XVI
Nine o'clock struck. The Count and Countess
sat on either side of the fire-place and simul-
taneously both glanced at the clock and then at
each other; simultaneously their eyes returned to
their books. After that ten minutes passed before
either moved. Their respective novels must have
provided ponderous reading, for the pages were
left unturned, and when the Count ventured to
look up again he found his wife was watching him
surreptitiously from under cover of her eyeslashes.
"You are looking tired," she observed hastily,
as though offering an explanation. “You are
pale.”
"I have a headache," he admitted. “It's the
weather. You don't look very well either. Hadn't
you better go to bed ?”
“Oh no, thank you. But don't wait up for me."
Further silence. At intervals stolen glances at
the clock. At last the Countess Theodora rose.
Her face indeed justified her husband's statement
that she was not looking well. It was deadly white
and the hands that played nervously with the long
gold chain were obviously trembling.
212


214 ROGUES & COMPANY
“Ah, you see!"
His lips parted with his one and only reason
then closed again. She laughed brokenly.
“Do not try to soften it. I have understood.
How could it be otherwise. You have done what
you felt was your duty and I have made you suf-
fer.” She drew back her head and for a moment
looked him full and straight in the eyes. "I am
sorry for everything I have done to hurt you,"
she said solemnly. “I want you to believe that,
that I couldn't help myself. Had things been dif-
ferent”
“Ah, had things been different!” he interrupted
sighing.
“Who knows-then?” She shrugged her
shoulders recklessly. “Why do we stand here
talking of the might-have-beens? It is so foolish
--so useless—and it is late. Bon soir, Monsieur,
mon mari!”
“Theodora !"
She looked back at him from between the
parted curtains.
"Bon soir, Monsieur, mon maril” she repeated
softly as though the phrase pleased her and the
next minute she was gone.
The Count made a movement to follow her,
then stood irresolutely staring at the spot where
she had vanished until with alarming abruptness
the clock struck the half hour. Then he started


ROGUES & COMPANY 215
like a man awakening from a dream and, crossing
to his writing desk, took pen and paper and began
to write.
“My wife,” he wrote clearly, “though my
knowledge of the French language is limited I be-
lieve you have just called me husband for the
first time as though you meant it. I call you
'wife' for the last time, though I think you will
remain that to me always in spite of everything.
Still—it is a title from which you have every right
to free yourself. I am not the Count de Beaulieu
and I do not know how you ever came to suppose
I was. From my point of view I don't know who
I am but the person whom I was forced to intro-
duce to you as the Count de Bontemps declares
that I am his brother. As he is a scoundrel, I
presume I am a scoundrel also--I have certainly
acted as one. A Lucky Pig, which is the one
thing I brought with me out of my mysterious and
unknown past, points to my being the notorious
William Brown, alias Slippery Bill. George con-
firms this—so now you know what manner of man
you have married. Have I any excuse to offer?
Well, I think I can plead that I was driven into
'this false position. When I recovered conscious-
ness after that accident-or whatever it was—I
couldn't remember anything about myself. In-
spector Smythe put two and two together, how-


216 ROGUES & COMPANY
ever, and apparently made five, but that wasn't
altogether my fault, was it? I did not remember
any of my past crimes, and for all I knew he was
right-indeed if he had said I was the Emperor
of China I should have believed him. After-
wards, of course—thanks to that unlucky Pig–I
found out who I really was, but then it was too
late. And now the game is up. The real Count
—and he was a worse scoundrel than I was for
deserting you for that fair-haired doll-has turned
up, and it's only a question of hours before he
proves his identity. In any case I should have to
own up to you. I couldn't stand it any longer. Of
course it was natural that you shouldn't care for
me and I don't blame you. I deceived you and
your feminine intuition found me out. You grew
to care for someone else--and I couldn't bear it.
I couldn't bear to see you unhappy—or to see
you caring for another man. This brings me up
to the last point in my confession. I love you.
That's why I'm off—why I am going to commit
a last crime in order to make good my escape and
why afterwards I shall try to live an honest life.
It's the one atonement I can offer.
"Your devoted and unhappy husband
“The Rogue."
"Are you ready, old bird?"
William Brown, as he was to be from hence-


ROGUES & COMPANY 217
forth, started to his feet, and then, as he saw
the grinning face in the doorway, nodded a curt
assent.
“Yes."
“Coast clear?"
“Yes—wait a moment though till I have ad.
dressed this envelope.”
"Parting love-letter, eh?”.
"Hold your tongue !"
George grimaced rudely. William Brown fin-
ished his task in stern silence. Then, as he threw
the pen down with a sigh of bitter satisfaction, he
caught sight of a second envelope addressed to
him, propped up against a vase, with the injunc-
tion "not to be opened till tomorrow morning."
This letter he thrust into his pocket.
"Are you coming or are you waiting for your
escort to take you to Buckingham Palace ?"
"I'm coming—I'm coming!"
A moment later both men stood together in the
quiet passage. Downstairs they heard the sub-
dued strains of music and the hum of voices.
George put his finger to his nose.
"Grand doings," he said briefly. “The road is
as clear as it could be. Try and look innocent,
dear boy, and come along. My little friend Susan
has given me the key to No. 36—it will be as
easy as flying—"


ROGUES & COMPANY 219
elling safe of determined appearance had been set
against the wall and, obeying a curt command,
the Rogue switched on the torch. Its straight
stream of light fell on the lock and there was a
soft clink of steel instruments as George set to
work. The business filled William Brown with
indescribable and unnatural horror. It was insult
added to injury that he couldn't even be dishonest
with a good conscience. Whatever he had been
in the past he was now a hopeless failure. “I'll
have to go straight,” he thought. “I can't stand
this sort of thing any more, I simply can't." He
was, in fact, suffering acutely. Every hoarse rasp
of the file seemed to vibrate down his backbone
and George's breathing magnified itself in his ears
to the stentorian snorting of a bull. He looked
nervously about him. A shadow moved. He at-
tributed it at first to the light—then suddenly a
fearful suspicion grew to a blood-curdling cer-
tainty.
"George!” he whispered. “There's somebody
in the room—there—behind the wardrobe_”.
The next instant the torch was dashed from his
hand. He felt himself half dragged, half carried
to the open window and before he had time to
utter more than a gasp of protest he was flying
through a horrible space which ended suddenly
and uncomfortably in the mouldy moistness of a
flower-bed. Choking, his mouth and eyes and nose
se


ROGUES & COMPANY 221
master. Instinctively he pulled himself up to meet
the worst. To his utter amazement the gentleman
in dark blue merely touched his cap.
"Close shave, your lordship,” he said pleas-
antly. “You seem to have had a run for it.!!
“I have,” William Brown admitted truthfully.
“Another minute and you'd have missed,” the
station-master went on. "I've reserved a compart-
ment higher up."
William Brown shook his head feebly as though
protesting against the crazy vagaries of fortune,
but followed unresisting. The express was already
moving as the guard unlocked the door of a first-
class compartment.
“There you are!” he said. “Just in time, sir !"
The door was slammed to and the fugitive heard
no more. He broke down helplessly in a corner
seat and did not move until the lights of the sta-
tion had disappeared round a curve. Then for
the first time he realised that he was not alone.
He looked up and encountered the horrified, be-
wildered gaze of the Countess Theodora.


CHAPTER XVII
They stared at each other for a full minute in
frankly aghast silence. The Countess's face was
whiter than marble; the perspiration stood out in
beads on the Count's forehead. Thrice he es-
sayed to speak and twice failed. The third time
he managed to bring out her name.
“Theodora!"
“Louis !"
“What in the world are you doing here?"
She drew herself up defiantly.
"I'm running away."
"From mem? Ah, I understand!” He put
his shaking hand to his collar. “You have read
my letter—you know everything?"
"Your letter? I have it here. I found it on
your table—but I have not read it."
"Not read it? Then why are you here? Why
are you running away? Ah-it is that Saunders-
that scoundrel—".
“Louis—don't you understand? What are you
talking about? Haven't you got my note?”
"Your note?”
His jaw dropped. Mechanically he took the
222


ROGUES & COMPANY 225.
even if I was found out it wouldn't be so bad. I
could have concealed my own identity and my
father and mother would have been spared the
disgrace of a dishonoured son. You see—it was
a choice between the son and the daughter-and
it is always better for the daughter to go under,
isn't it? Of course my people knew nothing—they
believe I am still earning my bread honourably.
Cecil helped me to deceive them, but now that he
is on his way to South Africa there is no reason
why I should go on with the cruel farce. Further
deceit is useless and discovery imminent. In any
case I could not have borne it any longer. I have
acted wickedly, shamelessly, criminally, but I have
suffered! Oh, I have suffered terribly. When I
think of that dreadful woman—that Mrs. Pagot-
Chump—! Of course you had no reason to care
for me I had deceived you and your instinct knew
it—but it hurt all the same. And now comes the
worst part of my punishment: I must leave you
and you must know who I really am. I can hardly
bear it. Oh, Louis, Fate has played me such a
cruel trick! She has made me care for the man
I have treated so badly-she has made me love
him. Oh, Louis, if you only knew how miserable
I have been you would forgive as I hope you will
forget —
"Your loving and unhappy
“Theodora."


226
ROGUES & COMPANY
William Brown looked up. His wife looked
up at the same moment. Simultaneously they
broke out into an hysterical peal of laughter.
“Louis—you humbug!"
“Theodora—my darling adventuress!"
"Then you're not the Count?"
"No—you're sure you're not the Countess ?”
"Positive !"
"Thank Heaven!”
He caught her in a wild joyful embrace and for
a full two minutes detectives, pursuing policemen
and deeply injured French noblemen were for-
gotten in a tumult of happiness. Then William
Brown gently released himself.
"You don't know what I've done, Theodora,"
he said. “I've robbed and forged—perhaps mur-
dered. It's a lifer at least if I get caught."
"I don't care-I'll wait for you—I'll hang
with you—I'll stand by you whatever happens
whatever you've done !"
“Theodora_angel !"
“My dear, dear Rogue!"
It was at that precise and beautiful moment that
the Express went off the rails. The accident has
always been one of the mysteries of that particu-
lar line for the train was not travelling at a great
speed. The shock was nevertheless sufficient to
separate the newly united couple and send the
Rogue flying across the compartment, where the


ROGUES & COMPANY
227
back of his head encountered the door handle.
He was briefly aware of a magnificent display of
celestial fireworks and of somebody calling to
him from a long way off-then everything rolled
away into velvety darkness and peaceful silence.
When the velvety darkness began to thin the
Rogue made no attempt to hasten the process. He
was feeling very comfortable, very happy, entirely
disinclined to exert himself. He was vaguely
aware that a change had come over him but what
the change was he could not be bothered to think
and, when he opened his eyes at last, the sight of
his hotel bed-room and a white-haired man seated
beside him caused him no particular surprise.
"Hullo, dad!” he said simply and cheerfully.
The minute he had spoken however, he knew that
something wonderful had happened—that the
vaguely felt change had become definite. He sat
up with his hand to his bandaged head and stared
about him. “Why, what's happened?” he asked.
The old gentleman laid a soothing affectionate
hand on his shoulder.
“My dear boy—you've recovered your memory
-that's all," he said. “You know who I am,
don't you ?”
“Of course—you're my father."
“And you know who you are?”
"Why-Roger Lancaster of course!”


228 ROGUES & COMPANY
Dr. Frohlocken, who had been standing con-
cealed behind the curtains of the window, appeared
at this moment, like an unusual looking Deus ex
machina.
"May this be a lesson to you all," he said
severely. “But more than anyone I blame that
idiot—that Inspector. Didn't I protest? Didn't
I tell him? Circumstantial evidence! Nonsense!
Rubbish! Utterly unscientific. And you your-
self, No. 7 led astray by a ridiculous pig! How-
ever, let that pass. Do you remember how you
came to London?”
"I came to study."
"Right! You observe Mr. Lancaster—you will
note-a complete recovery. You remember how
you came to lose consciousness.”
"I believe I was attacked by someone.”
"Probably—and afterwards—when you came
round—do you remember that?".
The patient stared at his father in sudden
white-faced consternation.
"Why—yes, I do!” he gasped. "Good heavens
—what an awful kettle of fish! What shall I do,
sir? Get me out of England before that Count
and Mrs. Pagot-Chump catch me, or there'll be
murder."
Mr. Lancaster chuckled.
"Don't worry, my dear boy. Everything has
been explained. Thanks to an-er-slight scien-
.
be Don't worry


ROGUES & COMPANY
229
tific miscalculation the Count de Beaulieu was
arrested yesterday on a charge of fraudulent mis-
representation, but I got him out this morning and
he has accepted apologies, explanations and com-
pensations. The Countess is at the present mo-
ment in the next room, renewing her friendship
and exchanging notes with your wife." He
paused and watched his son narrowly. “It appears
that the Count made his escape from the hospital
in order to follow the Countess when he heard
that she had gone to America. He overtook her
in New York and after various explanations and
reconciliations they were married out there. As
to Mrs. Pagot-Chump—well, she assures me that
the pleasure of making your acquaintance atones
for any unpleasantness. So you see, all's well that
ends well.”
Roger Lancaster shook his head.
"It's all a most glorious confusion," he said.
"How did you find me out, sir?"
"When I missed you I travelled all over Europe
after you,” the elder man answered. "Fortunately
I obtained the services of this gentleman here."
He indicated the small neatly attired individual
who was leaning negligently against the mantel-
piece. “I think you have met before."
"Washington Jones, Private Detective, at your
service," the little man said with an easy bow.
"Pleased to welcome you back to your right mind,
the elder mas of this gentled individual


ROGUES & COMPANY
sir. Thought I knew you when we met in Herbert
Street, but couldn't be sure till I got your father
on the spot. One of my best jobs, sir."
"I'm sure we're very grateful," Roger
answered. He glanced uneasily at the door. “I
say though—what about George-and-that-
that Pig?"
Mr. Washington Jones' face creased itself into
innumerable folds of laughter, though he made
no sound.
"George and the Lucky Pig have disappeared
and I don't suppose we shall see either of 'em
again,” he said. “This letter, addressed to the
Count de Beaulieu's locum tenens, arrived at the
Bunmouth Hotel this morning. I ventured to open
it and here it is. If you permit me to read it to
you I guess you won't need much more explain-
ing." He took out a dirty sheet of paper from
his pocket and cleared his throat.
"Dear old bird,” he read out. “You are not
Slippery Bill-you're merely a Silly Duffer. What
else you are besides this I really don't know ex-
cept that you're the fellow I dropped on that
evening Dr. Frohlocken missed his silver. I
changed clothes with you whilst you were dozing
on the doorstep-I fear I have rather a heavy
hand—and that is how you came to have my Lucky
Pig, which animal, by the way, I ventured to nip


ROGUES & COMPANY 231
off your watch-chain at parting. In exchange-I
intended to return the gold watch I accepted from
you at our first meeting but really we were rather
pressed for time, were we not, and I am sure you
will not grudge me the little souvenir. Please give
my respects to Dr. Frohlocken and tell him his
silver was really very much over-estimated and
quite beneath my notice. Also suggest to Mon-
sieur Bonnet that he forgive Susan as soon as
he recovers his temper. She is quite a nice little
thing and should make an excellent cook, if her
hands are anything like as light as her brains.
And now, good-bye! You were not much good
in my profession, but you made an excellent Count,
and I have not the slightest doubt that you are
really something highly respectable. In any case
I shall always bear you in affectionate remem-
brance as a well intentioned understudy and
partner.
"Yours faithfully,
"William Brown, alias Slippery Bill.”
"P. S. Give my love to the police and tell
them that No. 10, Herbert Street is to let-un-
furnished.”
"Well, upon my word, I hope they don't catch
him!" the late William Brown declared delight-
edly.
W


232 ROGUES & COMPANY
“And you can stake your bottom dollar that
they won't,” said Mr. Washington Jones,-"un-
less he lands in the States, of course, in which
case
"
But the younger Lancaster was not listening.
At that moment the door had opened and he held
out his hands in glad recognition.
“Theodora !” he said.
She came towards him-bravely and a little de-
fiantly.
"I don't know, now that you have recovered
your memory, if you want to see me again," she
said.
"I want to see and keep you always."
"You are sure? Remember who I am and what
I have done!"
“A man who has rejoiced in the name of Slip-
pery Bill and tried to rob his own father is
scarcely in the position to throw stones," observed
the elder Lancaster grimly.
“In fact, since we're rather shady characters,"
his son suggested, "we have just got to join forces,
my wife!"
"Rogues & Company !” suggested Dr. Froh-
locken pleasantly. But as the two chief members
of his audience were far too absorbed in each
other to notice him this last stroke of genius
passed without recognition.
THE END


ook should'
pner be
eturr