01V. OF CALIF. L1BRAKY, LOS AW15L
 
 "Mr. Faviel!" cried Judith, in amaze. Page 294.
 
 By 
 R. E. VERNEDE 
 
 With Frontispiece by 
 GEORGE VARIAN 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 1912
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1912, 
 
 BY 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 
 Published August, 1912 
 
 THE QUINN A 80DEN CO. PRESS 
 RAMWAY, N. J.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 BUTTERFLIES should not be broken on wheels, and 
 equally perhaps a book that is only intended for light 
 comedy should not have a preface explaining it. Still, 
 a preface is not a crime especially if it is a short 
 preface. What I want to explain in it is this. Mr. 
 Faviel was received with great kindness in England 
 when he made his appearance there, both by readers 
 and critics. 
 
 The critics were indeed so kind that it wasn't till 
 I happened to go to Vermont, and met an even kinder 
 critic (kinder because he spared not) that I discov- 
 ered that the plot of Mr. Faviel's adventures was not 
 so lucid as it should have been. That was worse than 
 a crime, and everybody knows what is worse than a 
 crime. Of course the adventures were all clear enough 
 to me, but I had not put them down on paper. 
 
 Well before submitting them to the American 
 public, I have remedied that particular fault at 
 least I hope so. In any case, I have, by the light of 
 my kind American critic's advice, revised and added 
 so much that I almost feel as if I had written a new 
 book. To celebrate the effort, I have given it a new 
 name The Flight of Faviel. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 21334R1
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 I. Miss MALLENDON'S IDEAL 
 II. STERN CHASE THROUGH BURLINGTON 
 
 HOUSE 
 
 III. INTRODUCING MR. WILTON 
 
 IV THE WAGER 
 
 V. MR. BLENKENSTEIN EFFECTS A COMPROMISE 
 
 WITH His CONSCIENCE .... 
 
 VI. LADY MALLENDON'S AT HOME 
 
 VII. MR. BLENKENSTEIN GIVES THE SIGNAL . 
 
 VIII. MR. FAVIEL DISAPPEARS .... 
 
 IX. IN WHICH Miss ETTA WARLEY is SAVED 
 
 FROM PERIL ...... 
 
 X. A JOURNALISTIC THUNDERBOLT 
 
 XI. MR. WILTON MAKES A MISTAKE . 
 
 XII. FIRST APPEARANCE OF MONARCH . 
 
 XIII. HIGGINSON 
 
 XIV. MR. BOKE ON THE TRAIL 
 
 XV. ANOTHER MOTOR-CAR ACCIDENT 
 
 XVI. MR. WILTON AS SIR LANCELOT 
 
 XVII. A LETTER FOR MR. BLENKENSTEIN . 
 
 XVIII. DOUBTS IN A ROSE-BOWER 
 
 XIX. MR. WARLEY SETS OUT TO BUY A WARD- 
 ROBE . ... 
 
 XX. MR. BOKE BUYS THE WARDROBE 
 
 PAGE 
 
 3 
 
 10 
 17 
 23 
 
 3 
 39 
 44 
 S 1 
 
 58 
 
 65 
 72 
 80 
 88 
 
 97 
 
 1 06 
 
 112 
 
 118 
 127 
 
 134 
 143
 
 vi Contents 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXI. JIMMY INTERVENES .... 152 
 
 XXII. THE OPENING OF THE WARDROBE . 162 
 
 XXIII. SOME LIGHTS ON A SLEUTH-HOUND . 172 
 
 XXIV. ETTA MAKES A DISCOVERY . . 181 
 XXV. THE TRIUMPH OF MR. BOKE . . 191 
 
 XXVI. THE ARRIVAL OF BUTT . . . 203 
 
 XXVII. O'LEVIN INSINUATES .... 216 
 XXVIII. COLONEL GLEMMY SUSPECTS MR. COP- 
 
 PENWELL 225 
 
 XXIX. SIR JASPER'S PHOTOGRAPH . . . 237 
 
 XXX. MOONLIGHT AT THE MILL . . . 245 
 
 XXXI. A HOMERIC NIGHT .... 253 
 XXXII. THE LAST DAY: (i) DAWN. MR. COP- 
 
 PENWELL RATS .... 266 
 
 XXXIII. THE LAST DAY: (2) Two O'CLOCK P.M. 
 
 AT THE CHARITY FETE . . 275 
 
 XXXIV. THE LAST DAY: (3) FIVE O'CLOCK 
 
 P.M. THE BOOTH OF CHY FANG . 285 
 XXXV. THE LAST DAY: (4) Six O'CLOCK P.M. 
 
 THE FLIGHT FROM THE BOOTH . 291 
 XXXVI. THE LAST DAY: (5) BETWEEN Six AND 
 SEVEN O'CLOCK P.M. IN THE WOODS 
 OUTSIDE THE ASHLANDS . . 297 
 XXXVII. THE LAST DAY: (6) FIVE MINUTES 
 PAST SEVEN O'CLOCK P.M. MR. 
 BOKE HAS His REVENGE . . 305 
 XXXVIII. THE END OF IT ALL . . . .310
 
 THE FLIGHT OF FAVIEL
 
 THE FLIGHT OF FAVIEL 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MISS MALLENDON'S IDEAL 
 
 IT was unworthy of his luck, Mr. Richard Faviel 
 thought, that he should be sitting in Room IV. or was 
 it Room V. ? of Burlington House, in a tepid splash 
 of sunlight, tete-a-tete with Lady Mallendon. He liked 
 Lady Mallendon, and her sudden simple confidences 
 and her equally sudden shrewd criticisms, all quite 
 characteristic, but mostly about nothing in particular. 
 Only a tete-a-tete with Lady Mallendon was a some- 
 what less attractive affair than he had contemplated 
 when he pursued her and her niece from the corner of 
 Piccadilly into the headquarters of British Art. It 
 seemed a pity that Miss Judith Mallendon should be 
 looking at the pictures alone. 
 
 The only consolation Mr. Faviel had was that Lady 
 Mallendon's confidences had only a moment ago taken 
 a most interesting turn. 
 
 " Don't you think, Mr. Faviel, that Judith has ar- 
 rived at a marriageable age? " 
 
 Faviel had thought so on and off, but mostly on, 
 for the last six months, but he contrived to convey an 
 air of having bestowed his best attention upon a sudden 
 poser before he replied. 
 
 " On the whole yes "
 
 4 Miss Mallendon's Ideal 
 
 " That's what I think," said Lady Mallendon. " Of 
 course, Judith is barely twenty." 
 
 " It is young," Faviel allowed, feeling his way. 
 
 " I was married at seventeen myself, however." 
 
 " But then Sir Jasper," said Faviel delicately, " knew 
 that if he didn't " 
 
 " Well, there were several others, it's true, Mr. 
 Faviel," said Lady Mallendon, with a nod that was as 
 good as a blush, " though I dare say you don't really 
 believe it at all. Still it was nice of you to say it. 
 Old women love compliments. Sir Jasper is very 
 clever at them if only he wouldn't take photographs 
 of me. But what I was going to say about Judith, 
 you know was that though she seems reserved, and 
 the kind of girl who would be ready to wait quite a 
 long time, I'm not at all sure that she wouldn't be very 
 happy as a married woman." 
 
 " Somebody would be very happy as a married 
 man," said Faviel. 
 
 Lady Mallendon nodded vigorously. 
 
 " I think so," she said. 
 
 " I suppose the difficulty is to find the right 
 man?" 
 
 " Well, it was," said Lady Mallendon. 
 
 " Was ? " he said, parrot-like. 
 
 "But I believe he's found!" 
 
 " How " Faviel paused a moment to draw his 
 
 breath and find the right word. " How jolly ! " He 
 was trying to think if he ought to have foreseen that 
 Lady Mallendon's confidence was going to lead up to 
 something of this sort. 
 
 " Yes," she pursued, " I really think so. You know 
 Judith's ideal has always been a strenuous man." 
 
 " Topping ideal ! " said Faviel dully. He was aware
 
 Miss Mallendon's Ideal $ 
 
 that he was not the sort of man who is generally called 
 strenuous himself. 
 
 " The kind of man who does things," continued 
 Lady Mallendon, elaborating her notion in all apparent 
 innocence, " and and can pull the strings." 
 
 " What sort of strings ? " He had to ask something 
 for form's sake. 
 
 " Oh strings," said Lady Mallendon vaguely. 
 " We met him at the Tattams' for the first time a fort- 
 night ago. Such a fine-looking man. He arranged to 
 meet us here this morning for the pictures, of course. 
 But I dare say you understand why I suggested to 
 Judith that she should go on and look at the pictures 
 by herself while we sat here." 
 
 Faviel was afraid he did understand. Lady Mal- 
 lendon's guilelessness made things very obvious. 
 While he sat having undesired confidences thrust upon 
 him, the strenuous man was acting as escort to Judith 
 Mallendon. As more than escort probably. 
 
 " Yes," Lady Mallendon rattled on, " I can remem- 
 ber how Sir Jasper and I enjoyed looking at some 
 pictures together. One picture I can still see par- 
 ticularly the frame. Oh, dear ! " 
 
 She stopped short and emitted a little cry of regret 
 looking ahead of her. 
 
 " What is it? " asked Faviel. 
 
 " There is Mr. Blenkenstein ! " 
 
 "Mr. Who?" 
 
 " I am afraid he has missed Judith." Lady Mal- 
 lendon rose. 
 
 Out of the string of people that was winding round 
 the room, a tall heavy-built man had stepped towards 
 them. He was of the well-groomed description; fine- 
 looking only by reason of his size and a pair of blue
 
 6 Miss Mallendon's Ideal 
 
 eyes that had a glint of the police-constable in them. 
 At present his eyes were fixed upon Faviel in a polite 
 stare indicating complete want of recognition. The 
 lower part of his face was wreathed into a smile of 
 pleasure at the sight of Lady Mallendon. Mr. Blen- 
 kenstein had evidently practised that smile in front of 
 a mirror with a stop-watch. 
 
 " Met him at the Tattams', did they? " said Faviel to 
 himself, as he observed Lady Mallendon's greeting 
 with recovered serenity. He knew Mr. Blenkenstein, 
 and Mr. Blenkenstein knew him, in spite of the fact 
 that, for the casual observer, he did not recognize him. 
 He was rather glad that he knew Blenkenstein and 
 that Blenkenstein failed so decisively to recognize him. 
 It laid on Blenkenstein to some extent the onus of 
 beginning an antagonism which was bound to come in 
 any case, and it justified his rival in making that antag- 
 onism a deliberate one rather than the courteous affair 
 of two men in love with one maid. 
 
 At the same time there was something to admire in 
 Blenkenstein's attitude. It was adept, if nothing else. 
 The fellow could not have expected to see him proba- 
 bly never even dreamt that Faviel knew the Mallen- 
 dons yet on the spur of the moment he had made up 
 his mind to disclaim acquaintanceship. He must have 
 said to himself, " It is just possible this one-time ac- 
 quaintance of mine is intimate enough with Lady 
 Mallendon to warn her against me. I shall discount 
 anything he says and have a chance of countering 
 by showing from the first that we are not on speaking 
 terms." 
 
 Faviel beamed upon his antagonist. Lady Mal- 
 lendon had already shaken hands in her most charm- 
 ing manner.
 
 Miss Mallendon's Ideal 7 
 
 " And have you been long here ? " she was anxious 
 to know. 
 
 " I came at the time we fixed. I've been looking 
 for you and Miss Mallendon since. It's my stupidity, 
 I expect." 
 
 " Oh, no, mine," said Lady Mallendon. " Judith 
 will be so disappointed. She has just been walking 
 up and down looking at the pictures. Mr. Faviel and 
 I do you know Mr. Faviel, Mr. Blenkenstein ? have 
 been sitting here " 
 
 " Chatting," said Faviel, smiling pleasantly at 
 Blenkenstein's affectation of making a new acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! " said Blenkenstein, without any show 
 of interest. 
 
 " About you " 
 
 " And all sorts of things," said Lady Mallendon, a 
 little nervously, though without understanding why 
 Mr. Blenkenstein looked glum. " Mr. Faviel is so 
 sympathetic. But you mustn't tell Mr. Blenkenstein 
 what I've been saying about him, Mr. Faviel, will you ? 
 It might make him conceited, and " 
 
 "Shall we try and find Miss Mallendon?" asked 
 Blenkenstein. 
 
 " Certainly. Good-by, Mr. Faviel. We shall see 
 you on the 29th. And your friend, Mr. Wilton? 
 Delightful " 
 
 Lady Mallendon was hurried off, feeling a little 
 abrupt and apologetic, and it was Faviel's turn to look 
 glum. If Lady Mallendon's words, about Judith's dis- 
 appointment, were true (and certainly girls do some- 
 times like brutes) where did he come in? Nowhere, 
 that he could see. But were they true? He had a 
 sudden and overwhelming desire to find out, and
 
 8 Miss M alien don's Ideal 
 
 started to his feet with that purpose. Having got that 
 length, he remembered that for all practical purposes 
 the enemy held the commanding position for the day. 
 He could not put the question under Blenkenstein's 
 very nose, with Lady Mallendon also in opposition. 
 And yet if he did not, Blenkenstein might. Indeed 
 Lady Mallendon had hinted that he was there for that 
 very purpose. 
 
 Halting under the picture of a stout man, whose 
 chain of office and scarlet robes proclaimed him a 
 mayor, in order that (the sightseers being fewer at 
 this spot) he might reflect for a minute or two with- 
 out being informed that he was in the way, Faviel 
 was roused by a slap in the back, and the following 
 words delivered in a voluble Irish voice : 
 
 " Tis a pretty picture, Dick, me boy, but ye'll never 
 have the figure for't yourself, so don't be looking so 
 green-eyed jealous. They might, indade, elect ye 
 mayor if ye took up butchering or some respectable 
 trade, but they would not have your portrait painted. 
 Ye would not fit in with the other dignitaries. Ye 
 would be the exception that spoilt the municipal gal- 
 lery. Turtle daily would not help you, Dick. It comes 
 of your Oriental wanderings. In the manewhile, let 
 me introjuce you to Mr. Maxhaven, of Philadelphia. 
 This, Mr. Maxhaven, is one of our young but 
 promising explorers, Faviel by name, wonder- 
 ing, as ye can see for yourself, if the day will ever 
 come that they'll make him a fatted mayor. It will 
 not " 
 
 " Confound you, O'Levin ! " said Faviel, in reply, 
 as he shook hands with the long American to whom 
 he was thus most unceremoniously introduced. " How 
 d'you do, sir ? "
 
 Miss Mallendon's Ideal 9 
 
 " I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. 
 Faviel," returned Mr. Maxhaven politely. 
 
 " Though the pleasure is altogether discounted, and 
 your nose put out of joint by the fact that I've just 
 been introjucing Mr. Maxhaven to Miss Mallendon 
 wandering all forlorn. He has not looked at a picture 
 since, and ye cannot expect that he will look at you," 
 said O'Levin. He was an old friend of Faviel's, and 
 a journalist, and it was a question among those who 
 knew him whether his tongue or his pen went faster. 
 
 " I find art exceedingly interesting," said Mr. Max- 
 haven seriously. " And it is the first time I have 
 visited your British Royal Academy. Exploration is 
 also one of my fortes. Truly, however, the young lady 
 to whom Mr. O'Levin was good enough to introduce 
 me in the other room, is very attractive " 
 
 " What room did you say ? " asked Faviel. At any 
 other time he would have been happy to listen to 
 O'Levin, and he liked American visitors. But it struck 
 him that a possible opportunity had come his way that 
 should not be neglected. 
 
 " Room III. She's been around, she said " 
 
 " Excuse me, won't you, O'Levin? I'm in an awful 
 hurry. Hope you'll bring Mr. Maxhaven to see me 
 to-morrow or next day, or " 
 
 " Lord ! " said O'Levin, as Faviel, without com- 
 pleting his sentence, posted in the direction of Room 
 III., " I have never seen that young man in such a 
 tearing hurry before. Will he be wanting to kill an 
 R.A., do you think?" 
 
 " Your English explorers," said Mr. Maxhaven 
 solemnly, " would seem to have a kindly eye for the 
 picturesque."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 STERN CHASE THROUGH BURLINGTON HOUSE 
 
 THE thing that struck Mr. Faviel most about Bur- 
 lington House during the next quarter of an hour was 
 its wonderful construction. The cunning way in which 
 the rooms led out of one another was quite remarka- 
 ble; by making a careful reconnaissance of the room 
 you were approaching, you could, without entering it, 
 make pretty sure that the persons you did not want to 
 meet were going out the other end. If they were not 
 doing so, you yourself could go back a little and look 
 at a picture which was quite worthy of attention, 
 though you had neglected it previously. 
 
 " I'm sure we looked at that before," said Miss 
 Mallendon positively, when Mr. Faviel had drawn her 
 back to point out one of these masterpieces, not for 
 the first time. 
 
 " But it's worth it, don't you think ? Such splendid 
 broad treatment. Look at the sheep and the clouds! 
 Quite one of the coming men the fellow who painted 
 it." 
 
 "What is his name?" 
 
 " Er Brown F. C. Brown." Mr. Faviel invented 
 the name with admirable glibness. Having the ad- 
 vantage of height, he had just seen, across the tops 
 of the people, the figures of Lady Mallendon and 
 Blenkenstein rising to continue the search for his com- 
 panion. Lady Mallendon had evidently called a halt 
 
 xo
 
 Stern Chase Through Burlington House n 
 
 from sheer fatigue, but she was up again now, and 
 disappearing in the distance at a rapid pace, appar- 
 ently under the impression that she had seen the object 
 of her chase. 
 
 " Yes. Brown's an open-air man. Paints in Nor- 
 folk, I believe," said Faviel, with a sigh of relief. 
 
 " Where does A. R. Cummersley paint ? " asked 
 Miss Mallendon. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " A. R. Cummersley. The catalogue says he painted 
 the clouds and sheep picture. I suppose it's a mis- 
 print?" 
 
 " Oh, not at all," said Faviel promptly. " My 
 mistake stupid of me. Brown's somewhere else. 
 Shall we go on to the next room?" 
 
 "And look for Mr. Brown's picture?" 
 
 " It's quite worth looking at," said Faviel un- 
 abashed. 
 
 " I should like to see it. Why is it they haven't got 
 his name down at all, if he's exhibiting?" 
 
 There was humor in Miss Judith Mallendon's gray 
 eyes, but what sort of humor Faviel could not tell. He 
 would have given more than a penny for her thoughts, 
 which were hidden from him. It was this quality of 
 reserve in her which Lady Mallendon had remarked 
 on that had kept Faviel from wanting to find out too 
 exactly what she thought of him, that had kept him 
 back for the last six months when he had fancied he 
 knew exactly what he thought of her, and that kept him 
 back now when he had determined that he must find 
 out for good or for bad, seeing that some one else 
 had started up who from what Faviel knew of him 
 would not be backward. 
 
 He liked the reserve indeed it increased his ad-
 
 12 Stern Chase Through Burlington House 
 
 miration for her but there was no denying that it 
 amounted to an obstacle at the present moment. Per- 
 haps if he had much to offer her besides himself, he 
 would not have hesitated, being by nature prompt and 
 impetuous, and not afraid to put his fortune to the 
 touch. But he was aware that from a worldly point 
 of view he had nothing to confer; and he was not 
 aware what value he was justified in attaching to that 
 solitary item himself. It all depended upon what 
 she thought, and that was what he did not know. 
 
 He was not even sure what she would think of him 
 when she found out the way in which he had circum- 
 vented the others in the matter of their present com- 
 panionship. He had come on her quite unexpectedly 
 in Room III., according to Mr. Maxhaven's direc- 
 tions, and she had only been mildly curious as to where 
 she should find her aunt. Blenkenstein had not been 
 mentioned. They were supposed to be walking round 
 until Lady Mallendon should turn up. 
 
 What would happen then, Faviel had hitherto suc- 
 ceeded in trying not to think. Meantime, he had to 
 extricate himself from the pit into which his too great 
 readiness had plunged him. He had not contemplated 
 her looking at the catalogue for the artists' names. 
 Not that a small thing like this disconcerted him. 
 
 " It's my absurd memory," he said. " Now that I 
 come to think of it " 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " Brown's picture is at the New Gallery. It's a 
 pity, isn't it? The goats are so uncommonly well 
 painted." 
 
 " The sheep, you mean." 
 
 " The sheep, of course." 
 
 Miss Mallendon's eyes twinkled into laughter.
 
 Stern Chase Through Burlington House 13 
 
 " And now," she said, " can you tell me why we 
 came back to look at this picture which isn't Mr. 
 Brown's, but somebody else's ? " 
 
 " I can," said Faviel. " But I'd rather not, for the 
 simple reason that I want to talk about something 
 else." He fancied that he had got started, mistakenly. 
 If only she had looked as if she expected the impor- 
 tance of his declaration. She didn't. 
 
 " Something interesting? " she asked. 
 
 " Lady Mallendon was talking to me about your 
 ideal," said Faviel, trying to stick to his point. 
 
 " What did she say my ideal was ? " 
 
 " A strenuous man who does things, and pulls 
 strings " her coolness had made Mr. Faviel ironical. 
 She looked at him curiously. 
 
 " They're rather like Aunt Georgy's expressions," 
 she said, nodding. " I am not sure that she isn't 
 right. If I were a man, I should love power. I sup- 
 pose that is what pulling the strings means ? " 
 
 " I suppose that is what Lady Mallendon meant 
 
 " Not what you mean? " 
 
 She might, he thought, have shown a little more 
 eagerness in asking him what his ideals were. She was 
 wondering if he was the idler her aunt had hinted at 
 once or twice of late since Mr. Blenkenstein had 
 made her acquaintance. He was not as deferential as 
 Mr. Blenkenstein, and she rather liked that. Except 
 that of course it was a compliment for a man of im- 
 portance to be deferential to a girl of no importance 
 whatever. 
 
 " I'm awfully bad at ideals," was Faviel's answer. 
 
 " Are you? " She seemed to be summing him up 
 a trying process for the person representing the sum.
 
 14 Stern Chase Through Burlington House 
 
 " And I dislike some of the people I've met who 
 pull strings. By the way " Faviel quite lost his usual 
 serenity at this point, she looked so calm " Lady 
 Mallendon also said that your ideal had promised 
 
 A. 
 
 Her cheeks went pink in a moment then. 
 
 " I mean," he said apologetically, " Lady Mallen- 
 don was saying that you and she were expecting to 
 meet some one here this morning." 
 
 They were at the moment advancing for the fourth 
 time into Room V., and Miss Mallendon paused to 
 examine a landscape that was wedged in among some 
 larger pictures. She had to stoop to see it properly. 
 When she had done, her cheeks were of a normal 
 color. 
 
 " We were expecting Mr. Blenkenstein," she said. 
 " Aunt Georgy says that he pulls strings in the City 
 finance. I don't know what finance is exactly. Aunt 
 Georgy thinks a great deal of him " 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 " I I think " 
 
 " My dear Judith, where have you been? " 
 
 Lady Mallendon broke in, worn and worried-look- 
 ing, upon the answer for which Faviel had been 
 waiting more eagerly than he ever remembered to have 
 waited for anything. 
 
 " And Mr. Faviel ? " she said, with great dis- 
 pleasure. " I thought when I left you that you under- 
 stood I was looking for my niece. I imagined that 
 you were going yourself. In any case, it would have 
 been kind to have informed Judith that Mr. Blenken- 
 stein and I were looking for her." 
 
 ' The fact is," said Faviel, conscious that his case 
 was a bad one and only partially solaced by the
 
 Stern Chase Through Burlington House 15 
 
 menacing glare in Blenkenstein's eye " Burlington 
 House is built wrong. I met Miss Mallendon, as I 
 was going to the entrance, and we've been walk- 
 ing round after you ever since. It's like a laby- 
 rinth " 
 
 " What I wish to know is," said Lady Mallendon 
 with dignity, " did you tell Judith that Mr. Blenken- 
 stein and I " 
 
 Faviel's luck was with him to some extent after all, 
 for at that moment O'Levin and his long American 
 friend completed the group. 
 
 " Lady Mallendon by all that's pleasurable, and 
 me friend, Blink not to mention Faviel and Miss 
 Mallendon whom we've met before. The pick of Lon- 
 don, Maxhaven, I assure ye. Lady Mallendon, may 
 I introjuce Mr. Maxhaven of Philadelphia ? " 
 
 Lady Mallendon composed her ruffled plumes for 
 the purpose of the introduction, and O'Levin con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " It's what in novels they call a coincidence that we 
 should have met in front of the picture of the year. 
 Ye see it ? " He indicated a large classical canvas on 
 the wall opposite, a " Perseus and Andromeda." 
 
 " Fine rich coloring," said Mr. Maxhaven, since no 
 one else volunteered a criticism. 
 
 " It should be," said O'Levin. " For why? That 
 picture, Lady Mallendon, is by a plumber. Tis the 
 only picture by a plumber that's ever been known to 
 art, and the young man who painted it is only a 
 plumber in a small way. What's more, we interviewed 
 him in the ' Drum ' the other day, and his fame is now 
 assured whichever side of his janius he develops. A 
 countess has commissioned him to paint her portrait, 
 and two dowager dukes, or I should say, duchesses,
 
 16 Stern Chase Through Burlington House 
 
 have invited him to mend leaks in their gas-pipes. 
 The modestest young fellow he is, too, and ready to 
 tell ye how his old master (for he was apprenticed) 
 used to knock him on the head for stealing putty to 
 model with." 
 
 " What a dreadful thing ! " said Lady Mallendon, 
 who was chafing to be at lunch. 
 
 " He bears the marks still," said O'Levin, with 
 relish. " ' Perseus and Andromeda,' I may tell ye, oc- 
 curred to him when he was taking up the floor of a 
 dining-room in Ealing, to see why the bath water 
 leaked. The pipes were not there at all, but he was 
 so wrapped up with the pothry of the idea for his 
 picture that he went on, unconscious, taking up the 
 floor, with the result that when the owner of the house 
 returned in the evening there was nothing but air to 
 walk on. However, it was the first step to success, 
 for his master turned him off turned the young 
 janius on to the streets." 
 
 " Dear, dear," said Lady Mallendon. " I was about 
 to ask Mr. Faviel " 
 
 " Then he sold matches. Afterwards " O'Levin 
 
 having got into his swing would not be denied the 
 telling of the whole story, thereby enabling Faviel to 
 escape unexamined. If, however, he could have fol- 
 lowed the workings of Mr. Blenkenstein's brain, 
 Faviel would have known that his morning's work 
 was even less satisfactory to himself than it ap- 
 peared on the surface. And it did not appear on the 
 surface in the smallest degree satisfactory.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 INTRODUCING MR. WILTON 
 
 " MOST extraordinary and inexcusable ! " 
 
 That is how Lady Mallendon characterized Mr. Fa- 
 viel's conduct, after cross-examining Judith, who ap- 
 parently could not explain it at all. 
 
 " Never to have informed you that Mr. Blenken- 
 stein and I were looking for you everywhere? That 
 is what surprises me." 
 
 " It is funny," said Judith, " isn't it? " 
 
 " It almost looks," Lady Mallendon argued, " as 
 though he had been annoyed by my getting up to go 
 round with Mr. Blenkenstein. Young men seem to 
 think themselves of such importance nowadays that 
 I shouldn't be at all surprised if that had vexed him. 
 Still, even if he were vexed, he had no right to retaliate 
 by keeping you in ignorance of the fact that Mr. 
 Blenkenstein and I " 
 
 " Certainly not," said Judith hurriedly. 
 
 " And, in fact, I call it impertinent of Mr. Faviel. 
 I am rather sorry that I sent invitations to him and 
 his friend for the ' At Home ' on the 29th, for really 
 I shall not feel at all pleased to see him for some time. 
 I cannot withdraw the invitations, but I shall certainly 
 be out if he calls in the meantime. So will you, Judith." 
 
 " Yes, Aunt Georgy." 
 
 " To think that he should have allowed Mr. 
 
 Blenkenstein and me " 
 
 17
 
 1 8 Introducing Mr. Wilton 
 
 " Yes, Auntie," said Judith, and beat a retreat. 
 
 She could not explain to Lady Mallendon, or, in- 
 deed, to any one, why Mr. Faviel had behaved in the 
 way he had. She did not herself know for certain. 
 An original minded young woman, brought up in an 
 old-fashioned style, she was at once older and 
 younger than her years; a queer mixture of deter- 
 mination and docility. In this case, her docile side 
 made her willing to accept Lady Mallendon's maxims, 
 about the praiseworthiness and desirability of an 
 energetic career and therefore of Mr. Blenkenstein 
 as indisputable. Mr. Blenkenstein was, without doubt, 
 a man to admire. 
 
 Why, then, Judith asked herself in the privacy of 
 her own room, why did she like Mr. Faviel? Why 
 was she not vexed by what had occurred in Burling- 
 ton House ? Why would she have liked more to know 
 what Mr. Faviel had been going to say to her there 
 than she would have liked to know what Mr. Blenken- 
 stein was going to say to her so far as she could 
 judge not very long hence? 
 
 Perhaps it was the uncertainty of what he had been 
 going to say that made her eager for it. Perhaps a 
 score of perhapses presented themselves to her mind, 
 but she ended by deciding that she ought to think that 
 Lady Mallendon was right. If she were not right, 
 circumstances would contradict her. Circumstances or 
 Mr. Faviel. If there were more in him than Lady 
 Mallendon supposed, the fact of their being out when 
 he called would not deter him. He might not call. 
 
 Faviel did call, and was rather annoyed to learn 
 that Lady Mallendon was not in. Such a coincidence 
 as a lady being out when her servant announces the 
 fact, is not impossible. But then he also met the
 
 Introducing Mr. Wilton 19 
 
 Mallendons at the house of a mutual friend, was 
 treated by Lady Mallendon with a coolness that must 
 have cost her a fever of preliminary practice, and had 
 not a chance of talking with Judith. He also under- 
 stood that Blenkenstein had become a frequent and 
 favored guest at the Mallendons' house. 
 
 These things working together ruffled even Faviel's 
 serenity which had become quite a byword among 
 his friends and seriously perplexed Lieutenant Tod 
 Wilton, R.E., at present home from Egypt, and 
 stopping with Faviel, as he always did when he had 
 the chance. Faviel had been the hero and friend of 
 Mr. Wilton's schooldays, and continued to be, in that 
 young officer's opinion, the most brilliant and admira- 
 ble mortal that a man ever had for friend. Faviel 
 perturbed was a spectacle Mr. Wilton had never con- 
 templated, though he had seen at various periods 
 Faviel tree'd by a farmer's dogs and men; Faviel 
 birched by his head master; Faviel invited to fight a 
 duel (in German days) ; Faviel started, at an increas- 
 ing pace, down an ice slope in the Himalayas; and 
 various other Faviels in difficulties which would upset 
 the ordinary man. It added to Mr. Wilton's perplexity 
 that he could not find out any adequate reason for 
 Faviel's perturbation. He understood vaguely that a 
 certain Miss Mallendon had attracted Faviel's atten- 
 tion, but he merely supposed that Miss Mallendon 
 (whom he had not seen) would know herself to be, 
 what in his Tod's opinion she certainly would be, 
 namely, a very lucky girl, if Faviel's attentions re- 
 sulted in what attentions do occasionally result in a 
 proposal. 
 
 It was not until the evening of the day before Lady 
 Mallendon's At Home at which Wilton understood
 
 2O Introducing Mr. Wilton 
 
 he was to have the honor of seeing Miss Mallendon 
 that Faviel enlightened him at all in regard to this 
 matter. Then, as they were dressing for a dinner 
 which was to be given by O'Levin at his rooms in 
 honor of his own recent appointment to the editor- 
 ship of the " Drum " a journal proudly and lucidly 
 described by its new conductor as " the Earliest Even- 
 ing Paper in the World " Faviel began to talk. 
 
 " It's rather lucky," he said, " that we got the Mal- 
 lendon invitations a fortnight ago." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Mightn't have got them at all if we hadn't." 
 
 Wilton pressed for an explanation. 
 
 " I'm not in good odor with Lady Mallendon," said 
 Faviel. " She's very jolly, but she has a financier in 
 her eye as a nephew-in-law, and I played him a trick 
 the other day since when I have become non-existent 
 for Lady Mallendon." He related the incident of the 
 Academy. Wilton's opinion of Lady Mallendon fell 
 to a very low ebb. 
 
 " I don't see that it mattered," he said. " And I 
 should have thought you were as good as a finan- 
 cier." 
 
 " I'm more virtuous than J. D. Blenkenstein, who is, 
 in fact, rather a rogue. Did I ever tell you how I 
 made his acquaintance?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 Faviel related that incident also. It seemed that on 
 his return from some Eastern travels he had been 
 asked by Blenkenstein, whom he did not know, to 
 speak in favor of some mines, which, he gathered, were 
 owned by a company directed, and possibly owned in 
 its turn, by Blenkenstein. 
 
 " I happened to have inspected the mines. Quite
 
 Introducing Mr. Wilton 21 
 
 deep mines, but nothing in them. Blenkenstein seemed 
 to think that the substitution of the word ' valuable ' 
 for ' deep ' was a simple matter. I suggested that a 
 simpler way of arranging any difficulty there might 
 be would be for me to kick him downstairs. However, 
 he rang his bell then and had in a bevy of clerks, so 
 that we had to compromise the matter by parting in 
 mutual wrath." 
 
 " And Lady Mallendon wants him for her niece ? " 
 said Wilton, in disgust. 
 
 " Well, she doesn't know him. Besides, he may be 
 a model of private virtue. Business is a thing apart 
 nowadays. He's a great man." 
 
 " You'll get the Burah consulate probably." 
 
 It had been hinted to Faviel from what are known 
 as influential quarters that the Foreign Office was seri- 
 ously considering the question of whether they might 
 not make a step forward and appoint the most com- 
 petent man they could find, instead of a favored nonen- 
 tity, to this not unimportant office. The decision was 
 to be made some time in the course of the next three 
 months. 
 
 " I don't know that I've got enough to justify me in 
 accepting it, even if they offer it me," Faviel said. 
 " More kicks than ha'pence at Burah, and it doesn't 
 make one great to be consul there." 
 
 " It's better than swindling in the City." 
 
 " Lady Mallendon can't know that." 
 
 " But you don't propose to marry Lady Mallen- 
 don ?" Tod urged. 
 
 " No. I propose to marry Judith Mallendon," 
 said Faviel. " But I don't at the present moment see 
 how I'm going to do it. Have to shoot Blenkenstein 
 first, I expect."
 
 22 Introducing Mr. Wilton 
 
 Tod's opinion of Miss Judith Mallendon also fell 
 to a low ebb at this point. She might be beautiful, 
 but she could hardly, he said to himself, have much 
 intelligence if Blenkenstein stood to her for a possible 
 husband.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE WAGER 
 
 IT struck Tod Wilton, from the very first moment 
 that he heard the man whom Faviel and he had been 
 discussing was expected at O'Levin's that night, that 
 something dramatic was bound to happen. The ques- 
 tion was, what form the drama would assume. 
 
 O'Levin, who did not know more than that Blen- 
 kenstein and Faviel had had some disagreement at one 
 time or another, greeted them on the threshold with 
 the news that he had invited Blenkenstein. He was 
 apologetic about it. 
 
 " 'Tis yourself that reminds me," he said to Faviel, 
 as soon as they had shaken hands. " I knew in a 
 sort of double-sighted way that there was going to 
 be something wrong with the meal to-night, and 
 'twouldn't be the wine, for I bought it at an auction, 
 and if it isn't good, it's cheap, as the auctioneer said 
 after I'd bought it, bad cess to 'urn! 'Tis that I've 
 invited Blenkenstein J. D. Blenkenstein and now, 
 seeing your merry face, it tears through me mimory 
 that you and he hate each other like cats." 
 
 " Do you want me to go ? " Faviel asked, stacking 
 his hat and coat the while. 
 
 " No. I'd sooner kick Blink downstairs, though 
 'twouldn't be hospitable in the best sinse of the word, 
 and the damages I'd have to pay for injuring a bucket- 
 shop king 'ud ruin the ' Drum.' I wouldn't have ye 
 
 33
 
 24 The Wager 
 
 go for worlds. But that's just it. Would ye mind, 
 now, putting up with him for the evening? " 
 
 " Not a bit." 
 
 O'Levin breathed a breath of mock relief. 
 
 " You don't think," Faviel asked, " that he'll mind 
 putting up with me ? " 
 
 " Not he," said O'Levin. " Blink's a Christian, as 
 far as forgiving the enemies he's made is concerned. 
 And he likes to be glared at. It makes him feel great. 
 Indeed, now that I come to think of it, I remember 
 I told him you were coming, and he looked as pleased 
 as Midas before his ears went gold." 
 
 It was not easy to see the steadfast facts through 
 O'Levin's volubility, but it seemed to Mr. Wilton, 
 when he considered the matter later, that whether 
 Blenkenstein had foreseen his particular opportunity 
 in the dinner or not, he had probably come to pick a 
 quarrel, and O'Levin might not have been unaware 
 of it. The Irishman loved a joke or a quarrel. As 
 it turned out, the re-introduction of Blenkenstein to 
 Faviel passed off comparatively smoothly. 
 
 " I believe you know Faviel," O'Levin had said ; 
 " or Faviel knows you." 
 
 " Ah, yes ; I know Mr. Faviel," said Blenkenstein. 
 " Don't fancy I've seen you, though, for some time." 
 He had a heavy, patronizing manner, in direct contrast 
 to Faviel's easy gaiety. 
 
 " I thought I saw you at the Academy the other 
 day, with Lady Mallendon," was the answer Blenken- 
 stein got. 
 
 " I didn't know you knew the Mallendons," said 
 Blenkenstein ironically. 
 
 " Not well enough to dictate their friends to 
 them."
 
 The Wager 25 
 
 Some one prevented the interchange of further 
 amenities by admiring a new picture on the walls. 
 
 " It ought to be genuine," said O'Levin; " I got it 
 at the same auction as the wine. And I had a towel- 
 horse thrown in all for seven pounds tin." 
 
 Mr. Maxhaven, who was one of the guests, mur- 
 mured something about his doctor's bills, and dinner 
 was announced. It proceeded amicably enough at first. 
 The " Drum," coupled with the name of its new editor, 
 was toasted, and O'Levin thanked the company on 
 behalf of that " sweet little rag." 
 
 Galton, an artist, who had been at the same school 
 as O'Levin, Wilton and Faviel, complained of the size 
 of the print, and O'Levin promptly started a theory 
 that all artists were astigmatic. 
 
 " They don't see double, like journalists, at any 
 rate," said Galton. 
 
 Mr. Wilton, back from comparative exile, listened 
 with pleasure. The repartee reminded him of his 
 schooldays, and he said so, which brought the others 
 down on him in a body with reminiscences. Faviel 
 recalled that Galton had always been celebrated for 
 inkstains on his fingers. 
 
 " He puts them on paper now, and calls himself an 
 artist," said O'Levin. " D'ye remember Faviel's ode 
 on the occasion of Topsy leading Mrs. Topsy to the 
 altar ? " They all remembered the famous composi- 
 tion in the heroic style ending with the lines : 
 
 " Ten years round Ilium strove the valorous Greeks : 
 The Rev. Turvey won his Helen in ten weeks." 
 
 It had been presented with good intent to the Rev. 
 Adolphus Turvey on his return to school at the end 
 of the summer holidays with a wife, but for some
 
 26 The Wager 
 
 reason it was considered an impertinence. Faviel had 
 been caned for it. 
 
 " One of the rare occasions when ye were," said 
 O'Levin. " Ye always had the luck." 
 
 " Is that so ? " said Blenkenstein. He had been lis- 
 tening with the face of a man who has to tolerate 
 conversation to which he is supremely indifferent, and 
 his interjection at this point was nearly provocative. 
 The subject, however, that actually roused the discord 
 which Wilton had somehow expected from the first 
 was started later. 
 
 Some one and Wilton could not have said for cer- 
 tain who mentioned a case of disappearance, one of 
 those curious cases in which a man, without warning 
 or apparent motive, goes out of this world once and 
 for all, leaving no trace. Wilton rather fancied that 
 it was O'Levin's American friend, Maxhaven, who 
 began insisting on the mystery generally noticeable in 
 these cases. Faviel agreed. 
 
 " The police are often blamed," he said. " But it 
 seems to me " 
 
 " Very properly too ! " Blenkenstein's words were 
 a distinct interruption. 
 
 " But it seems to me, I was going to say," Faviel 
 proceeded with his usual serenity " that to blame the 
 police in such cases is rather too easy a way. There 
 are hundreds of cases every one can guess at them 
 in which you cannot keep official scrutiny on the pri- 
 vate person." 
 
 Blenkenstein leant across the table. 
 
 " You don't think our detective service a farce? " 
 
 Apart from the deliberately disagreeable way in 
 which he thrust the question at Faviel, any one might 
 have been annoyed at having an interesting topic so
 
 The Wager 27 
 
 unintelligently squashed. It was like a horse-laugh 
 to a philosopher delicately theorizing a thing that 
 makes it rather difficult for a philosopher to retain his 
 philosophy. It roused Faviel. 
 
 " They don't catch every one they ought to," he 
 said. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " Blenkenstein rapped out. 
 " I don't understand you." 
 
 "No?" 
 
 Faviel began to peel a walnut. It was plain enough 
 to every one present that what had been a general topic 
 had become a personal one, and that two of O'Levin's 
 guests were prepared to quarrel. O'Levin himself 
 looked unhappy. 
 
 " Well, me boys," he began, in his most practised 
 brogue (he was a Cockney Irishman, and had been at 
 some pains to acquire the right inflection), "if you 
 was to ask me, I'd say " 
 
 But Blenkenstein was not to be denied. 
 
 " I understand that Mr. Faviel and I differ about 
 this point. I don't say anything about Mr. Faviel's 
 way of arguing. It's not my style. All I want to 
 know is whether Mr. Faviel would go a little further 
 and back his opinion." 
 
 " Any one of them," said Faviel. " I don't quite 
 see, though, how we're going to prove Scotland Yard 
 a farce, even by a wager ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," said O'Levin, relieved by the 
 notion that nothing worse was coming off than a 
 wager. " I could set a Missing Competition for de- 
 tectives only in the ' Drum.' Be jabers, 'tisn't such 
 a stale notion. First prize, a silver-plated truncheon. 
 Second prize, ' The Soul's Awakening/ Framed com- 
 plete."
 
 28 The Wager 
 
 Blenkenstein forced a smile. 
 
 " I take it," he said, " that the difference between 
 Mr. Faviel and myself is that he thinks it an easy 
 matter to disappear, and I don't. I say the detective 
 who can't run down a man who's disappeared is a 
 fool. See? Well, the wager I've got in my mind is 
 this I'd back myself to trace any man who likes to 
 vanish within a month." 
 
 " That's sporting," said O'Levin. 
 
 " And the man might be Mr. Faviel, if he really 
 fancied it." 
 
 Here was the point at which, if Wilton was right 
 in supposing that Blenkenstein had deliberately tried 
 to foist a wager on Faviel, he could point to some 
 marks of evidence. The test Blenkenstein had sug- 
 gested was not obviously the outcome of Faviel's argu- 
 ment. It was not in any way a fair deduction from 
 it. On the other hand, it sounded distinctly a sporting 
 challenge. 
 
 Coming as it did on the top of a personal difference, 
 it clearly appealed to the company. A glance round 
 showed that Faviel's answer was awaited with interest. 
 Faviel himself did not glance round, but finished peel- 
 ing his walnut. 
 
 " What would the stakes be ? " he asked. 
 
 Blenkenstein seemed to understand the sort of man 
 he was dealing with. 
 
 " Oh, I never bother myself about a thing unless I 
 stand to win something respectable." 
 
 " So I've heard." 
 
 " I dare say you wouldn't fancy it," said Blenken- 
 stein, rather quicker. " Not less than five thousand." 
 
 " How much more? " 
 
 " Another five."
 
 The Wager 29 
 
 " Done ! " said Faviel, and Mr. Wilton found him- 
 self swiftly and suddenly doing mental arithmetic. 
 From what he knew of his friend's affairs, ten thou- 
 sand pounds would represent the chief part of his pos- 
 sessions. He stood to lose it to that sneering brute, 
 and make a fool of himself into the bargain. What 
 was he saying? 
 
 " Did you get the walnuts with the towel-horse, 
 O'Levin?" 
 
 " I did not," said O'Levin, made curt by sheer 
 admiration. He also was thinking as his next words 
 showed of the size of the stakes. 
 
 " Ye've turned my humble apartments between ye 
 into a kind of Crockford's. I'll be raided by the 
 police. Ten thousand pounds ! Ye'd better be making 
 it a pony now. A pony's a homelier and more rea- 
 sonable sum." 
 
 So Wilton thought, and would have said, but that it 
 would have looked like helping his friend out of a 
 tight place. Faviel would have been annoyed. And, 
 indeed, there was obviously nothing to be done. The 
 rest of the guests, pleased with the importance of a 
 wager in which they had no concern, and being mostly 
 young men, offered no dissuasions. On the contrary, 
 they resolved themselves very readily into a court of 
 honor to decide the rules which should govern the 
 wager.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 MR. BLENKENSTEIN EFFECTS A COMPROMISE WITH HIS 
 CONSCIENCE 
 
 AT three o'clock precisely on the afternoon follow- 
 ing there presented himself at the Inquiry Office of 
 the Capital Cities Exchange, Ltd., a middle-aged man 
 whose appearance, suggesting at one and the same time 
 the gravity of a highly respectable butler and the lax- 
 ness of a Bookie, over whom clouds have rolled, might 
 have left even a keen observer in ignorance of his 
 vocation in life. A keen observer might, however, 
 have noticed that it was the clothes of the middle-aged 
 man which suggested the butler, whereas a humorous 
 leer and a certain weakness of the legs brought up 
 reminiscences of the less weighty profession. 
 
 He inquired, in a voice of which the huskiness could 
 not conceal the affability, if Mr. Blenkenstein was in. 
 
 The youth, whose business it was to answer such 
 inquiries, but whose occupation at the moment it was 
 to look for signs of a coming mustache in a small and 
 cheaply-made pocket-mirror, threw a dignified glance 
 at the inquirer. 
 
 " What name ? " he said, in a tone that showed he 
 was going further than he generally went in noting the 
 middle-aged man's name. 
 
 " Mr. Boke," said the middle-aged man. 
 
 " Queer sort of name," said the youth. " Can't 
 
 possibly see Mr. Blenkenstein to-day, Boke " 
 
 30
 
 Mr. Blenkenstein Effects a Compromise 31 
 
 "Not?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 The youth returned to his mirror, as though Mr. 
 Boke had served his purpose, and no longer remained 
 within his sphere. The fact that Mr. Boke did not 
 immediately retire was not it seemed a matter of 
 surprise to him, or in any way worthy of his attention. 
 People often waited a little like that one would guess 
 after hearing that adamantine refusal from his lips. 
 Eventually, they got tired, and went away. 
 
 Mr. Boke might be getting tired, but that eventu- 
 ality did not occur to him. The youth glancing up 
 at the end of another course of self -investigation 
 found Mr. Boke's eyes fixed upon him in a genial 
 way. 
 
 " And how many can you count ? " asked Mr. Boke, 
 in his affable voice. 
 
 " Look here," said the youth, pinkly wroth, " what 
 do you mean, eh? " 
 
 " It should be simple arithmetic," said Mr. Boke, 
 undeterred by the ferocious tone of the question, " and 
 a sharp young fellow like you ought to be able to tot 
 'em up pretty quick. I'm not in what you could call 
 the deuce of a hurry, and I can wait till you've got 
 the answer, put it down on an invoice, and addressed 
 it to your mother. Then I shall be glad to see Mr. 
 Blenkenstein and " 
 
 " Go to the " 
 
 "Sh-sh! Naughty!" said Mr. Boke. "And as 
 I was going on to say when your young jaws let slip 
 the word Jerusalem or whatever it might ha' been 
 and Mr. Blenkenstein being, so far as I am ac- 
 quainted with him, of a punctual disposition will be 
 glad to see me. It's an appointment, sonny. So don't
 
 32 Mr. Blenkenstein Effects a Compromise 
 
 stop to tell me what you'd like to say if you was the 
 Prince of Wales, but run ! " 
 
 Something in the inflection of Mr. Boke's voice 
 which was, however, as affable as ever warned the 
 youth that he was not dealing with the ordinary 
 inquirer. Crestfallen, and without waiting for more 
 remarks, he plunged out of the glass box in which he 
 had hitherto been preserved, and scuttled along the 
 corridor on the right. 
 
 He returned shortly, to say that Mr. Blenkenstein 
 would see Mr. Boke at once. Would Mr. Boke come 
 this way? 
 
 " Mr. Boke '11 try," said that gentleman. " Totter 
 along, Augustus." 
 
 Thus urged, the youth conducted Mr. Boke to the 
 sumptuous room in which Mr. Blenkenstein was in the 
 habit of as Lady Mallendon had phrased it with a 
 not imprudent vagueness " pulling strings." Mr. 
 Blenkenstein was walking up and down it somewhat 
 restlessly, a thing that did not escape Mr. Boke's 
 notice, for having already become entirely the re- 
 spected butler in facial expression, he showed further 
 powers of adaptation to environment by saying in a 
 voice, only slightly hoarse and entirely deferential: 
 
 " I was very pleased, sir, to be in when your message 
 came round. Anything that you may trust to me, Mr. 
 Blenkenstein, I take the liberty to say is worth doing." 
 
 " Ah well, take a chair, Boke. Do you smoke ? 
 Have a cigar." 
 
 Mr. Boke accepted a cigar, it being his motto never 
 to lose a chance, with some inward surprise. In the 
 direction of such little jobs as Mr. Blenkenstein had 
 previously employed him for, concerned mostly with 
 moneys overdue and reputations overdrawn, that gen-
 
 Mr. Blenkenstein Effects a Compromise 33 
 
 tleman had never thought it worth while to be par- 
 ticularly gracious or condescending. It was not his 
 habit in dealing with his inferiors, and there was, he 
 opined, little to be gained by it. But in employing 
 Boke for a present comparatively private and social 
 end, Blenkenstein had decided that since he would 
 probably have in any case to be confidential he might 
 as well go further, and instruct Boke in a friendly 
 way. 
 
 " Like that cigar, eh ? Good ? It ought to be. I 
 gave sixty shillings a hundred for 'em. Well, about 
 this job. I may as well tell you at once, Boke," said 
 Blenkenstein, rendered a little fussy by reason of hav- 
 ing to be so unusually gracious, " it's a private matter. 
 You'll be acting for me personally, not for the Com- 
 pany. The fact is, I've got a wager on." 
 
 "With a friend, sir?" 
 
 " Yes no." 
 
 " With a gentleman, I should say, perhaps, with 
 whom you have no business relations " 
 
 " That's it," said Blenkenstein, unconscious of any 
 irony in this definition of friendship. " A man I know 
 has betted me that he'll disappear for a month without 
 my being able to track him. There's a good deal of 
 money on it." Blenkenstein came to an uneasy 
 standstill. " What do you think his chances are, 
 Boke?". 
 
 Mr. Boke had got out a flat, soiled notebook. 
 
 "If he hasn't had much of a start, sir, his chances 
 are, I may say, nil. Name and address of the gentle- 
 man, if you please. Habits, if you know them. Terms 
 of the wager." 
 
 Mr. Boke rattled off the heads of his requirements 
 with a professional gusto, and became aware at the
 
 34 Mr. Blenkenstein Effects a Compromise 
 
 end of it that Blenkenstein's attention had wandered. 
 He was looking at the wall opposite, revolving many 
 things. One was a regret that Faviel hadn't started 
 yet. He had regretted that ever since he had realized 
 how it would have simplified things. 
 
 Only after he had made the wager had the full 
 beauty of the opportunities it opened up been revealed 
 to him. He had gone to O'Levin's dinner wishing all 
 manner of evil to Faviel; he had always hated the 
 fellow ever since that affair of the mines. But he 
 had never before seen a chance of getting back on him. 
 He had not seen it there even, until the wager had 
 been actually made. Despite Wilton's suspicions, he 
 had made the wager on the spur of the moment, as 
 a matter of provocation. He had meant to provoke 
 Faviel, and though he had not started the conversation 
 about people who disappear, he had realized at once 
 that to contradict Faviel was to score a point. The 
 wager had followed almost equally without fore- 
 thought. He had merely meant Faviel to feel how 
 small a person he was in comparison with himself 
 Blenkenstein in a matter where Money counted. He 
 had never for a moment supposed either that Faviel 
 had the money to stake or the coolness to stake it. 
 
 The very instant the wager had been made, however, 
 he had perceived some of the possibilities to which it 
 might lead. One of them was Faviel's pecuniary ruin. 
 The other, more important and far more desirable in 
 Blenkenstein's eyes, was his undoing in the matter of 
 his relations with Judith Mallendon. 
 
 Blenkenstein's perceptions were not of the finest, but 
 he understood vaguely that Miss Mallendon was for 
 some reason best known to herself holding the 
 balance between himself and Faviel. The fellow
 
 Mr. Blenkenstein Effects a Compromise 35 
 
 had some attraction for her, and she could 
 not see that he was a waster. At least she could 
 not see it plainly enough to make up her mind to 
 say good-by to him. She had her suspicions of him 
 of course. Lady Mallendon had seen to that with 
 his assistance. Queer old thing Lady Mallendon 
 muddle-headed of course, but quite right in admir- 
 ing finance and financiers, though she knew no more 
 about them than she did about flying absolutely right 
 in regarding Faviel as a waster. Blenkenstein was 
 not particularly given to moral fervors, but he really 
 did fervidly consider Faviel a waster. A man who 
 spent his time wandering about unknown countries, 
 and when he got a chance of making money for him- 
 self and other people as in the case of that mine 
 chucked it away for a silly scruple. Bah the 
 thought of it sickened Blenkenstein. Life was too 
 
 short for such fooleries and such fools And 
 
 yet this fool was his rival and a formidable 
 one. He was conscious of not having made much 
 progress in the last fortnight. But, supposing Faviel 
 could be got out of the way for a month, even at the 
 cost of ten thousand pounds, the balance would surely 
 incline to him Blenkenstein. A wooer at home is 
 worth a dozen wooers whose whereabouts are totally 
 unknown, especially if the latter are already suspected 
 of instability. The wooer at home, moreover, has 
 every chance of justifying to the lady the suspicions 
 she already entertains of the absent rival. 
 
 That was why he had urged upon the Committee 
 that they should so arrange the wager that, firstly, 
 Faviel should start at once within the hour and 
 that, secondly, the whole affair should be treated as 
 confidential, no one outside the Committee being ad-
 
 36 Mr. Blenkenstein Effects a Compromise 
 
 mitted to know of it until it was decided one way or 
 the other. 
 
 Faviel had stood out against both these suggestions, 
 but the latter had been decided by the Committee in 
 Blenkenstein's favor. None of the men present 
 guessed all that lay behind the wager, and no doubt 
 they had thought it simpler to keep the matter to them- 
 selves. Faviel clearly could not explain to them ex- 
 actly why he would rather the thing were not kept a 
 secret; or thought he could not explain; or didn't 
 think it out at all. Blenkenstein had reckoned on 
 winning this point, and he had reckoned right. 
 
 On the other hand, the framers of the rules had 
 decided that Faviel was entitled to some delay, and 
 Blenkenstein, in his turn, could not very easily explain 
 why he was in such a hurry for Faviel to disappear. 
 It was arranged finally that he should disappear at 
 ten o'clock the night following, and be given a two 
 hours' start. In other words, he was due to vanish 
 at ten to-night, and not to have the chase begun after 
 him until twelve. 
 
 It meant on the one hand that he would be at the 
 Mallendons' see Judith possibly propose to her : on 
 the other, that he would have every opportunity of 
 getting away. Boke even now was suggesting that 
 every minute's start made an almost vital difference 
 to the chances. 
 
 A sense of having been unjustly treated by the 
 arbiters of the wager began to overcome Blenkenstein. 
 He wanted to behave in a sportsmanlike way; he ad- 
 mired the sporting spirit outside business matters. He 
 would have been willing to lose that very considerable 
 sum ten thousand pounds to Faviel, a man who 
 had, by the way, insulted him. But he was not pre-
 
 Mr. Blenkenstein Effects a Compromise 37 
 
 pared to lose both the money and Judith Mallendon 
 to the fellow. Sportsmanship was all very well, 
 but 
 
 " Every minute, sir, I might say, is a day to the 
 other gentleman," Boke was saying again. 
 
 " Wait a bit," said Blenkenstein, collecting his facul- 
 ties; " he hasn't started yet, you know." 
 
 " That's a pity for the gentleman," said Mr. Boke, 
 rubbing his hands. 
 
 " And I happen to know he won't attempt it till ten 
 to-night. What's more " Blenkenstein wore an air 
 of supreme magnanimity " it's a sporting matter, as 
 I've said, and I want to give him a start." 
 
 "I see, sir." 
 
 " At least," Blenkenstein corrected himself, " I'd 
 like to if we can afford it." A plan had just come into 
 his head. If he could ascertain that Faviel had not 
 advantaged himself by going to the Mallendons, in 
 that case he could afford to observe the spirit of the 
 rules what some people would call the letter of them 
 and let him have the two hours' start. Boke could 
 be on the watch, somewhere outside the Mallendons' 
 house; and a signal showing him how to proceed could 
 easily be agreed on. If he could not ascertain how far 
 Faviel had succeeded with Judith, Boke would have to 
 follow at once. But and here an inspiration came to 
 Blenkenstein in that case he must not allow Boke to 
 arrest Faviel and present the letter which the Court 
 had adjudicated was to be the test of Faviel's having 
 lost the wager. Faviel must be encouraged to disap- 
 pear, or rather to imagine that he had disappeared, 
 while in reality all the time Boke would be keeping an 
 eye on him. Thus he would be out of the way and 
 yet supervised.
 
 38 Mr. Blenkenstein Effects a Compromise 
 
 An hour later Mr. Boke, with alternative instruc- 
 tions fully jotted down in his fat notebook, withdrew 
 thoughtfully from Mr. Blenkenstein's room. Blenken- 
 stein had not explained precisely what the terms of 
 the wager were ; he did not believe in being over-con- 
 fidential. But he had impressed upon Mr. Boke that 
 he was absolutely decided to act in the matter in the 
 most sportsmanlike way in the world. 
 
 " Always remembering, of course, Boke, that it is 
 we who are going to win this wager." 
 
 " Quite so, sir, exactly," Mr. Boke had said, ad- 
 miringly, with his hand on the door. Once he had 
 closed the door, Mr. Boke winked, slowly and disre- 
 spectfully, at the vacant corridor, before proceeding 
 down it towards the inquiry office and exit. 
 
 The youth still sat in the glass box in which Mr. 
 Boke's personality had first been revealed to him. 
 
 " Any more sprouted since I see you? " queried Mr. 
 Boke, as he passed by. " Not? Lay you two to one 
 you'll grow another before you're a year older. Won't 
 take it? Why, a lad with boots as tight and shiny as 
 yours ought to be more of a sportsman; still it ain't to 
 be wondered at," continued Mr. Boke, as he passed out 
 of the 'youth's hearing into the thronged and noisy 
 street, " sportsmen and Mr. B. wouldn't somehow 
 fancy working in the same office."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 LADY MALLENDON'S AT HOME 
 
 " HULLO, Sir J. ! " 
 
 " Eh, what? Jim! What are you doing here? " 
 
 Sir Jasper Mallendon, who had just come down 
 into the hall preparatory to receiving his guests on the 
 night of his wife's At Home, looked, as indeed he was, 
 decidedly astonished to see his son and heir, whom he 
 supposed to be at school some forty miles away, stand- 
 ing there in a well-cut dinner-jacket, and nonchalantly 
 smoking a cigarette. 
 
 " I thought you were at Rapley," continued Sir 
 Jasper in a voice that he tried to make indicative of 
 displeasure, tugging at his tie the while. " Gug, gug, 
 confound this tie! What's the meaning of it? " 
 
 Master Jimmy waved a hand at his father. 
 
 " I thought I'd taught you how to tie 'em by now," 
 he said. " Otherwise I'd have come in and done it for 
 you. You didn't roll on it before you roped it round, 
 did you?" 
 
 " No, of course not," said Sir Jasper, abashed by 
 this counter-attack upon an article of clothing which 
 always remained a source of irritation to him, and 
 surrendering himself meekly to his son's nimble fin- 
 gers: " Something wrong with the make, I fancy." 
 
 " Rats," said Jimmy. " You won't take the trouble 
 to learn how to do 'em, you know. That's what it is. 
 There! It's hardly decent, but I suppose it'll do. 
 
 39
 
 40 Lady Mallendon's At Home 
 
 Glad mater's all right again. Of course I came up 
 as soon as I got her letter, though Latters had the 
 cheek to suggest it was a do, and wanted to make me 
 promise to come back to-night. As though I could 
 leave you two to get through this hop alone." Jimmy 
 completed this offhand account of the reasons which 
 had brought him up to Town with a prodigious wink. 
 
 " I've a good mind to send you," said Sir Jasper 
 weakly. " You oughtn't to do it, Jimmy. Your 
 mother only had a headache " 
 
 " Well, she wrote," said Jimmy. 
 
 " You asked her to, I expect," said Sir Jasper. 
 
 " Never mind," said Jimmy. " I shall go up to- 
 morrow morning. It's only French that I shall miss, 
 and you know you never went in for that much your- 
 self." 
 
 " I regret now that I didn't." 
 
 " You wouldn't be an ounce the better for it," said 
 Jimmy consolingly. " So it's no good worrying. 
 What sort of a lot are we having to-night? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Sir Jasper, without much 
 animation. His wife's At Homes were usually some- 
 thing of a trial to him. 
 
 Lady Mallendon was a follower of what might be 
 called the intellectual fashions. When Faviel had first 
 made her acquaintance, some years back, on his return 
 to England from an expedition, which, for a young 
 man, was creditable and in its way unique, she had been 
 a patroness of travelers and traveling. Explorers 
 from the frozen north melted in Kidgrave Square and 
 related adventures with Esquimaux dogs and Polar 
 bears: Central African missionaries told of their ex- 
 perience with lions and cannibals, and felt glad to be 
 alive, still in the sunshine of Lady Mallendon's smile.
 
 Lady Mallendon's At Home 41 
 
 Since then, however, the glass of fashion had been 
 turned more than once. Art had had its day in Kid- 
 grave Square; and so had music. Indeed, some of the 
 very earliest English instruments had been re-intro- 
 duced in Lady Mallendon's house, and, but for Sir 
 Jasper's unaccountable distaste for music (developed 
 after an attack of influenza), the lute and the harpsi- 
 chord and the spinet might still have been heard there. 
 As a rule, Sir Jasper never interfered with his lady's 
 hobbies. In the City a solid pillar of shipping, our 
 greatest industry, he was at home simply Lady Mal- 
 lendon's admirer. She could do no wrong, or, at any 
 rate, none with the exception of playing the spinet 
 that Sir Jasper had the heart to interfere with. If he 
 was not always interested in her enthusiasms he was 
 almost always capable of enduring them. At times he 
 would fly to his library and read through Horace's 
 epistles, or take amateur photographs, but generally he 
 could preserve his equanimity without artificial aid. 
 
 It was, however, a little threatened to-night. 
 Though finance, in the person of Blenkenstein, prom- 
 ised to be Lady Mallendon's next hobby, sociology in 
 its larger aspects and literature were the immediate 
 attractions. Miss Robina Finch, for example, a 
 poetess whom Lady Mallendon was housing while she 
 learned to fly, and of whom much was expected (by 
 Lady Mallendon) in the dramatic line, was to give 
 recitations from her as yet unpublished works; and 
 an old gentleman, who had studied with Karl Marx, 
 had been invited to recount his reminiscences of that 
 great reformer, in so far as an imperfect acquaint- 
 ance with the English language would permit him. Sir 
 Jasper prepared himself to be stoical accordingly. 
 There was need of it.
 
 42 Lady Mallendon's At Home 
 
 He could not go off and fortify himself with ices, as 
 Jimmy had done. He had to play the host. Wild- 
 eyed men, who, if they had approached his office, 
 would instantly have been warned of the proximity of 
 the police, explained to him familiarly, and at length, 
 why he ought to be an anarchist. Ladies, whose 
 coiffures might be artistic, but suggested that they had 
 traveled to Kidgrave Square on the back of a broom- 
 stick rather than in a cab or even an omnibus, com- 
 miserated him in a patronizing way upon his admitted 
 ignorance of the works of M. Maeterlinck. In spite 
 of every precaution, and an innate sense of the duties 
 of hospitality, Sir Jasper was becoming a little gruff 
 and irritable, when Lady Mallendon, in an innocent 
 manner, and apparently quite incidentally, as she was 
 passing him, said : 
 
 " There's Mr. Faviel. Why don't you take him off, 
 Jasper, to have some refreshment. You know you 
 enjoy talking to him " 
 
 " Yes, my dear, I do," said Sir Jasper, and acted 
 upon the hint. 
 
 It was in this way it came about that Faviel, who 
 thought that he had at last seen an opportunity of 
 approaching Miss Mallendon, from whom, by some 
 conspiracy of fate, he had been so far sundered, was 
 intercepted. He was actually hurrying across the 
 room to where she sat on a sofa, a little battered by 
 the guttural confidences of Karl Marx's fellow-student, 
 an ancient, ancient gentleman, whose lungs and ad- 
 miration for lovely maidens were, however, still 
 strong, and was caught midway. 
 
 " Glad to see you," said Sir Jasper. " Confoundedly 
 glad to see you. First sensible man I've come across 
 to-night. I say Oh, Lord ! "
 
 Lady Mallendon's At Home 43 
 
 A lull at the far end of the room (during which 
 Faviel, to his annoyance, saw Judith rise and be 
 snapped up by a couple of shock-headed men obvi- 
 ously revolutionists of a deep dye), followed by the 
 mounting upon a temporary platform of a small but 
 plump lady, whose self-possession in striking an atti- 
 tude of wild and sudden woe was admirable in the 
 extreme accounted for Sir Jasper's exclamation. 
 
 " It's Miss Finch. She's going to recite," said Sir 
 Jasper. " I say, Faviel, you don't want to stop and 
 listen. Eh, what? A glass of champagne, better, 
 eh?" 
 
 Miss Finch had just announced " Geraniums, a 
 Poem to my soldier lad ; " and straightway began, in 
 a piping voice 
 
 " Geraniums ! Geraniums ! 
 Scarlet coats and the noise of drums ! " 
 
 "A glass of champagne, better, eh?" repeated Sir 
 Jasper in a fruity whisper, and led his victim from the 
 room. A clock in the hall signified that the hour was 
 already 10.25 P.M.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 MR. BLENKENSTEIN GIVES THE SIGNAL 
 
 REFERENCE has been made to the fact that Lady 
 Mallendon prompted Sir Jasper to cut off Flaviel while 
 on his way to Judith's side in an apparently innocent 
 manner. In reality, Lady Mallendon was feeling all 
 the guilt and self -consciousness of a conspirator for 
 the first time in her life. Besides all the duties of 
 hostess, involving perpetual introducings, inspiritings 
 of Miss Finch who had threatened once or twice to 
 lose her nerve before the time of her recitations ar- 
 rived and petitionings of Herr Muster not to talk 
 himself hoarse before his turn should come to talk of 
 Karl Marx, Lady Mallendon had taken it upon herself 
 to prevent Faviel from having a tete-a-tete with her 
 niece during the course of the evening. There was 
 no conspiracy in the proper sense of the word, because 
 the only conspirator so to say was Lady Mallendon. 
 But as Lady Mallendon's ordinary self was as devoid 
 of plottings as a bird or a lamb, the consciousness of 
 having started to circumvent somebody made her feel 
 quite sinister, besides giving her a headache. 
 
 She hoped that she was doing right, and assured 
 herself at intervals that she was conspiring against 
 Mr. Faviel for no personal reasons. This was true. 
 At no time would her resentment at such a matter as 
 Faviel's behavior in the Academy have lasted for very 
 long; she had, indeed, quite got over it, greeting him 
 
 44
 
 Mr. Blenkenstein Gives the Signal 45 
 
 most warmly, somewhat to Faviel's own surprise, and 
 being delighted to meet his friend, Mr. Wilton, of 
 whom she had so often heard. She had, moreover, 
 readily agreed to a proposal that Faviel made to her 
 apropos of a charity entertainment that she was 
 getting up later on when they should be in their coun- 
 try house, The Ashlands, that she should invite a very 
 clever Chinese juggler of Faviel's acquaintance at 
 present in England looking for work to go down 
 and exhibit his tricks. 
 
 Lady Mallendon said that she would be delighted to 
 employ Mr. Chy Fang, and only just pulled herself 
 up in time from suggesting that Mr. Faviel should 
 take part in the play at present being written by Miss 
 Finch, which was to form the staple of the Ashlands 
 fete. Why Lady Mallendon behaved in so friendly a 
 way, why also she refrained from the invitation and 
 proceeded with the conspiracy on a night fraught with 
 events of an importance unknown to her these things 
 were all to be explained on the same ground. 
 
 Blenkenstein had hinted plainly a day or two before 
 that Faviel was a competitor for Judith's hand. Lady 
 Mallendon could forgive Mr. Faviel for having be- 
 haved so rudely, but she could not encourage him in 
 an expectation which explained to some extent the 
 rudeness. No, not for one moment could Lady Mal- 
 lendon allow Mr. Faviel to suppose that her niece was 
 to be sacrificed to a comparatively poor young man, 
 without any settled profession, and with still less set- 
 tled ambitions. As Judith's aunt she felt her duty 
 plain. 
 
 Inasmuch, however, as feeling one's duty plain does 
 not necessarily facilitate other people's seeing it with 
 an equally lucid eye, or, in other words, since it isn't
 
 46 Mr. Blenkenstein Gives the Signal 
 
 always easy to explain your own point of view to 
 other people, Lady Mallendon had come to the con- 
 clusion that the simplest way out of the difficulty was 
 to drop Mr. Faviel for the time being, but drop him 
 after so kindly and so effusive a welcome to-night that 
 his feelings could not possibly be hurt. Lady Mal- 
 lendon phrased the conspiracy to herself as " the truest 
 kindness." 
 
 The only difficulty was to make sure that Mr. Faviel, 
 unaware of the benevolent plot raised against him, 
 should not by some unexpected move make that plot 
 of no avail; and it was a difficulty complicated by the 
 fact that Lady Mallendon was, in her turn, unaware 
 of the wager between Faviel and Blenkenstein. Had 
 Faviel regarded the evening as a normal one, which 
 might be renewed or supplemented at no great interval, 
 he might have consented to be put off for the time 
 being by the series of mischances which seemed 
 to arise whenever he tried to approach Miss Mal- 
 lendon. 
 
 As it happened, of course, the evening represented 
 for Faviel his one opportunity for at any rate the next 
 month. He escaped from Sir Jasper at 10:50, and 
 ran into Jimmy Mallendon at 10.51. There was a 
 frown upon Jimmy's face. 
 
 " Anything wrong? " asked Faviel, who was one of 
 Jimmy's friends. 
 
 " No," said Jimmy. 
 
 "Have you seen your cousin about anywhere?" 
 asked Faviel. 
 
 " Judy ? " said Jimmy. " Yes, I have. She's with 
 a beast named Blenkenstein. Do you " Jimmy's face 
 suddenly brightened " I say, do you happen to want 
 to see Judy badly, Mr. Faviel ? "
 
 Mr. Blenkenstein Gives the Signal 47 
 
 Faviel admitted that he did. 
 
 " Very well," said Jimmy. " If you'll stick here for 
 a couple of mo's, I'll detach the beast. He's in the 
 conservatory with her." 
 
 Blenkenstein had been in the conservatory with Ju- 
 dith for some minutes past. Lady Mallendon had 
 contrived that it should be so. People were going 
 down to supper, she said, but if Mr. Blenkenstein did 
 not mind waiting a little, there would be more room 
 a little later. Perhaps he could entertain her niece 
 for a little. Mr. Blenkenstein thought that he could. 
 He had not reckoned with Jimmy; and when Jimmy 
 had sauntered into the conservatory, some few minutes 
 before Faviel had escaped from Sir Jasper and met 
 him, Blenkenstein had committed a grave error, in 
 this way. 
 
 Jimmy had entered the conservatory feeling a little 
 dull. He had anticipated supper two or three times 
 already, and he had tired of inciting various socialistic 
 ladies to give their views on our English schools, 
 which Jimmy had modestly admitted to be in a bad 
 state. There was a sort of monotony about their gag, 
 Jimmy thought; and very few of them were pretty. 
 Therefore, Jimmy, happening upon his cousin Judith, 
 of whom he thought highly, and upon a man, who at 
 any rate did not look like a professor, was rather 
 pleased; having shaken hands with Blenkenstein, 
 whom he had not seen before, and made a preliminary 
 statement about the quality of the coffee-ices, he set- 
 tled himself down in a chair for a chat. 
 
 " What do you think about the Australians this 
 year?" he inquired of Blenkenstein. 
 
 The position of tertium quid never caused Jimmy 
 any uneasiness. Conscious that he was well able to
 
 48 Mr. Blenkenstein Gives the Signal 
 
 bear a part in any reasonable conversation, he felt 
 comfortable wherever he was. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," said Blenkenstein curtly. He 
 did not understand Jimmy's feelings, and he objected 
 to his presence. Jimmy opened his eyes a little at the 
 tone, but continued courteously. 
 
 "If Trumper was in anything like the form 
 that " 
 
 " Look here, young man," said Blenkenstein im- 
 patiently, " hadn't you better run away just now and 
 talk to some of the others? " 
 
 Jimmy opened his eyes wide, and a rich blush 
 mounted to his cheeks. 
 
 " What did you say? " he asked slowly. 
 
 " I said," repeated Blenkenstein rashly, " hadn't 
 you better run away just now. Bit of a nuisance, you 
 know. Your cousin and I " 
 
 " Mr. Blenkenstein doesn't mean " Judith be- 
 gan in awful distress. 
 
 But Jimmy was not to be appeased. 
 
 " I see," he said, " thank you. Don't let me disturb 
 you." He rose, still very red, and, with an affectation 
 of nonchalance that must almost have hurt, walked 
 away. 
 
 " Bit spoilt, I should think, that young cousin of 
 yours," said Blenkenstein to Judith with a laugh. 
 
 " Yes," she said briefly. She wondered what Jimmy 
 would do. 
 
 The first thing that Jimmy did, as has been shown, 
 was, as it happened, to meet Faviel. The second was 
 to hurry to the library, which was not being used that 
 night. 
 
 A few minutes later a waiter bustled into the con- 
 servatory, and handed Blenkenstein a note
 
 Mr. Blenkenstein Gives the Signal 49 
 
 " Waiting for an answer, sir," he said. 
 " You'd better read it," said Judith. 
 Blenkenstein ran his eye over it hurriedly. The note 
 was short and sensational. 
 
 " Hurried here. Can you see me for minute in 
 library? Most important." 
 
 The signature was illegible; the spelling and hand- 
 writing poor. Blenkenstein, having Mr. Boke upon 
 his mind, jumped to the conclusion that it was a com- 
 munication from that gentleman. " I suppose I must 
 see the man, whoever he is. If you'll excuse me," 
 he said to Judith. She nodded, seeing Jimmy in the 
 note, but knowing that equity demanded she should 
 not interfere between him and his insulter. 
 
 That was like Judith. She had an extraordinary 
 sense of equity which she would rather see prevail 
 than her own personal wishes. Just now, for ex- 
 ample, she wished that Mr. Blenkenstein could escape, 
 for she could not believe that he had meant to hurt 
 Jimmy's feelings. She felt sure he had only done so 
 because he did not quite understand boys boys like 
 Jimmy. Probably he was too taken up with affairs 
 important things to know how boys feel. Perhaps 
 all great men were like that. She did not blame them 
 if they were. Certainly she did not blame Mr. Blen- 
 kenstein, or judge him, and she was sorry Jimmy was 
 going to be revengeful. Only of course it would not 
 be right to warn Mr. Blenkenstein against him. That 
 would be taking sides, failing, as it were, to play the 
 game of justice. 
 
 " I shan't be a minute," Blenkenstein had said, as he 
 walked away.
 
 jjo Mr. Blenkenstein Gives the Signal 
 
 It took him just precisely that period to walk to Sir 
 Jasper's library, enter, and fall a victim to that most 
 ancient device the booby-trap, composed in this 
 instance of a solution of coffee-ice and champagne cup, 
 which damped his head and mottled his shirt front in 
 a singularly aggravating way. 
 
 "Damnation!" said Mr. Blenkenstein. "It's that 
 cursed boy. I'd " 
 
 Before he could voice the sentiment concerning 
 Jimmy that arose in his breast, the voice of Jimmy 
 himself was audible in the hall. 
 
 " Judy's in the conservatory, Mr. Faviel, if you 
 want her. She was with Mr. Blenkenstein a minute 
 ago, but he went off to get some supper." 
 
 Blenkenstein made a step for the door, and stopped. 
 His appearance was too utterly against him. He 
 waited where he was for a minute or two; then strode 
 to where he had left his hat and coat, and asked for 
 them sullenly. 
 
 " No, I don't want a cab," he said, and walked out. 
 
 He hardly considered, in his wrath, the arrange- 
 ment he had made with Boke, namely, that if he left 
 on foot before midnight, Boke was to follow Faviel 
 and secure him at the earliest opportunity.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MR. FAVIEL DISAPPEARS 
 
 IT was quarter of an hour before midnight. A 
 moon hung over London, a summer moon ; so brimful 
 of silver that the streets and houses were flooded with 
 its drippings. Silver policemen walked up and down 
 their beat; and silver cabs jingled merrily to and fro. 
 Round a corner into the Strand a silver omnibus 
 lurched, just as Mr. Wilton, himself a silver object, 
 turned into that thoroughfare. 
 
 He was not concerned with the beauty of the night 
 at all. His eyes were partly for the figure of a man 
 walking some fifty yards ahead of him on the other 
 side of the road; partly for the figures of three men 
 walking at a less interval in front and on the same side. 
 The solitary figure was Faviel; who the three men 
 were, Mr. Wilton was anxious to find out. He was 
 following for that purpose. 
 
 When he had succeeded at last in inducing Faviel 
 to bestow some attention upon the time and he would 
 never have succeeded but that he and Lady Mallendon 
 had at one and the same moment penetrated into the 
 conservatory where Faviel was sitting with Miss Mal- 
 lendon Mr. Wilton had no intention of following his 
 friend. His one anxiety had been to get him to start. 
 Once free from the fatal fascinations of Miss Mal- 
 lendon, he would, Mr. Wilton felt sure, recover his 
 natural ingenuity, and give Blenkenstein the slip. The 
 
 51
 
 52 Mr. Faviel Disappears 
 
 start was the one thing necessary ; and to follow would 
 be futile in the extreme. Yet at 1 1 145 Wilton was 
 following. 
 
 What had changed his opinion was something that 
 had happened almost immediately after Dick's de- 
 parture in a cab. Wilton had accompanied him to the 
 door, merely that he might see him actually away. He 
 had lingered to see the cab actually in motion; then 
 just as he was turning into the house, he noticed an- 
 other cab signaled to, some way down the street, 
 and, after the three persons engaging it had got in, 
 he saw it pursuing the other cab. If it was pursuit ! 
 The notion was the weakest suspicion, but it so worked 
 upon Mr. Wilton that he stopped only to get his things, 
 and took a third cab. 
 
 Faviel had given the address of his rooms. Wilton 
 gave the next street. Getting out there, he had waited 
 on the curb with the tail of his eye on Faviel's rooms, 
 till Faviel issued, his clothes changed; but whether in 
 his right mind it was not easy to say, for, having 
 twenty-five minutes at the outside in which to disap- 
 pear, he had begun walking leisurely eastward. 
 
 Wilton, following more in the hope of allaying his 
 suspicions than confirming them, had spied the three 
 men just before Faviel turned into the Strand. Faviel 
 had quickened his pace. He was making for one of 
 the big stations evidently. So were the men, who had 
 also quickened. Because they were three in number, 
 Mr. Wilton was sure they were the three who had 
 hailed the cab. 
 
 At two minutes to twelve precisely Mr. Wilton, hav- 
 ing at the very last instant rushed the guard at the 
 barrier, flung himself into a train moving north. In 
 that train Faviel was also seated, as were the three
 
 Mr. Faviel Disappears 53 
 
 men. So, unknown to Mr. Wilton, was a man he had 
 met the other night at O'Levin's, Mr. Maxhaven, of 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 It was this last fact due to the mere accident of 
 Mr. Maxhaven, having accepted an invitation to a 
 country house situate upon that railroad, and having 
 moreover, owing to the temptations of an opera, missed 
 the train which would have got him to his destination 
 at a more seemly hour, deciding to go anyway when 
 he found that there was another train it was this 
 merely incidental occurrence which was unexpectedly 
 to ruin the schemes of both Mr. Wilton and the three 
 men who were in effect Blenkenstein's agents. 
 
 For it happened that as the train drew up at Haleden 
 Hoo, a small wayside station, existing for the sole 
 purpose of making life easier for the owner of the big 
 house of that name and for his guests, and as Mr. 
 Maxhaven, being about to become one of those guests, 
 descended upon the platform, Mr. Faviel, recognizing 
 his face, and regarding it as a good omen, also de- 
 scended. He did not greet Maxhaven, rather keeping 
 himself in the background, and the latter, having as- 
 certained the nearest way to the house from the som- 
 nolent station-master, walked out into the highway. 
 Thereupon Mr. Faviel also presented his ticket. 
 
 " It's for Malton," said the station-master. 
 " You've got out too soon." 
 
 " It doesn't matter," said Faviel, and passed 
 through. He did not hurry along the road, but waited 
 again until he had overheard the conversation between 
 the station-master and the three men, who had also 
 got out. It seemed their tickets were also for Malton. 
 
 " I wonder," said Mr. Faviel to himself, " where old 
 Tod took his ticket to. He's gone on."
 
 54 Mr. Faviel Disappears 
 
 There Mr. Faviel was wrong. His natural powers 
 of observation, coupled with a very strong suspicion 
 that Blenkenstein would not play fair if it served his 
 purpose, had enabled him to place the three men, whose 
 business their tickets for Malton had set beyond any 
 doubt. He had taken it for granted that Tod Wilton, 
 who had been worrying all day, would do his best to 
 see him safely beyond Blenkenstein's reach, and had 
 watched him scouting along the Strand with glee. But 
 he was wrong in supposing that Tod had gone on. 
 Tod had not got out, because the risk of revealing 
 himself to the three men was too great. He did not 
 know what the risk of revealing himself amounted to, 
 nor did he supply himself with any reasons for not 
 revealing himself. The primitive instincts, the sensa- 
 tion of being on the trail, kept him in hiding until the 
 train had cleared the station on its onward journey by 
 some twenty yards. At that point, Mr. Wilton, pray- 
 ing that no guard would observe him, and thanking 
 heaven that his carriage was an empty one, turned 
 the handle of the door and dropped out into the night. 
 He was conscious almost immediately that he had 
 fallen into a bank of nettles. Also, that the train had 
 not stopped. 
 
 The moon was gone, but a glimmer of stars gave 
 a suggestion of twilight, whereby Mr. Wilton, having 
 watched the red tail of the train swing into the dis- 
 tance and picked himself up gingerly, was enabled, at 
 the cost of stung hands and nose to find a gap in the 
 hedge and creep through it. The other side of the gap, 
 he was pleased to discover, was a road, and it was 
 while he paused there to try and make up his mind 
 with regard to some plan that should put him in touch 
 either with Faviel or the three men, that the sound of
 
 Mr. Faviel Disappears 55 
 
 steps coming towards him became audible. The sound 
 was so audible through the silence of the night that 
 Mr. Wilton had scarcely told himself that these were 
 the steps of a man, walking along leisurely, when he 
 had begun to tell himself that in the rear of them were 
 the steps of a man running of several men running. 
 Was it Faviel walking, he asked himself, with the three 
 after him? He ran towards the sound, as he asked it, 
 and got into a piece of road darkened by overbranch- 
 ing trees. As he got there, the man coming towards 
 him pulled up, struck evidently by the same sound of 
 running as Wilton had heard only nearer now; and 
 pulling up was cannoned into and passed by one of the 
 runners. 
 
 " Hell ! " said Mr. Maxhaven, for it was he who 
 had pulled up and been sent staggering. " What in 
 the " 
 
 His words were interrupted and the remainder of 
 his breath taken from him by two other men who, 
 coming up, had closed with him instantly. 
 
 Mr. Wilton, past whom the first runner had slipped 
 at a pace there was no stopping, especially by a man 
 running in the opposite direction in a deceitful light, 
 saw the three go down in a struggling pile, while a 
 fourth or rather a fifth man, who had just come up 
 hovered above them, calling out huskily 
 
 " Stick to it, Coppenwell ! Choke 'im, Bilks. Quiet 
 does it, Mr. Faviel, quiet does it." 
 
 " Police ! " yelled Mr. Wilton, and added himself to 
 the pile. 
 
 He was not aware then, or for several moments 
 after, what exactly was happening. He was conscious 
 of exchanging blows, also kicks and throat-shakings, 
 with several antagonists indiscriminately on a hard
 
 56 Mr. Faviel Disappears 
 
 road the dust of which gritted his teeth. Some of his 
 antagonists swore, and one groaned. Now he was on 
 the top of a large number of people, and again quite 
 a mob of people was on the top of him : how many one 
 could not count because of the darkness. Heads and 
 waistcoats and hobnailed boots seemed interchange- 
 able quantities for quite a long period of time a 
 painful period when it was one's own head and some- 
 body else's boots, a delightful period when it was 
 somebody else's waistcoat and one's own head. Mr. 
 Wilton had always been distinguished for his materi- 
 ally hard head. Finally, when breathings both his 
 own and other people's were becoming hard and fast, 
 Mr. Wilton heard the man with the husky voice give 
 tongue to some exclamation 
 
 " Damn it ! He's not here. Cut ! " 
 
 Then followed an untwisting of legs and arms which 
 Mr. Wilton tried to prevent stubbornly but in vain. 
 They would unroll. Thereafter he discovered himself 
 to be sitting in the road opposite Mr. Maxhaven of 
 Philadelphia, whose nose bled perceptibly. 
 
 " Hullo ! " said Mr. Wilton, in utter astonishment, 
 " I thought you were Dick Faviel." 
 
 " My name," said the American coldly, " is John 
 Maxhaven. I should like to know who you are, 
 sir " 
 
 Tod explained excitedly. 
 
 " Those men were employed by Blenkenstein. They 
 can't have allowed fair time, for the train started two 
 minutes after twelve." 
 
 " That's truth," said Mr. Maxhaven; " but how do 
 you know they were after Faviel ? " 
 
 " I heard them one of them speak of ' Mr. Fa- 
 viel.' They thought you were he."
 
 Mr. Faviel Disappears 57 
 
 " I wish they had not," said Mr. Maxhaven de- 
 cidedly. 
 
 " And they've got away, confound them," said Mr. 
 Wilton, pursuing his own train of thought. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Maxhaven, picking himself up 
 with a noise of groaning, " so as far as that is any 
 satisfaction to you, sir so, I guess, has Mr. Faviel."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 FEW men could say a thing more impressively than 
 the Rev. Wilfrid Amyas Warley-Warley, Rector of 
 Langston Bucket ; or say it more often without its 
 losing its impressiveness. Parishioners found this in 
 regard to his sermons. A testimonial to the fact might 
 have been gathered by any one who had chanced to 
 listen to a conversation carried on between Mrs. 
 Warley-Warley and old Mr. Mole a thatcher and 
 ditcher when the spirit moved him upon the morning 
 immediately following the night of Mr. Faviel's dis- 
 appearance. 
 
 " I've heer'd Mr. Warley say that 'bout chewing 
 being come like straight from Satan hisself fifty times, 
 if I've heer'd it once," said Mr. Mole, who was leaning 
 upon the gate leading into his cottage garden. " And 
 if I did'n know as Satan had me anyways, I'd ha' been 
 terrified to giving it up every mortial time." 
 
 " I wish you would, Mole," said Mrs. Warley, who 
 was herself the reverse of impressive. " It's a very 
 horrid habit." 
 
 Mr. Mole smiled his ancient sly cherubic smile. 
 
 " That's what it is terr'bl beastly. Terr'bl. Fifty 
 times I've heard Mr. Warley say ut. But theer, 'tisn't 
 as if he ever see me do ut. I've talked to 'un a quarter 
 of an hour on end, time and agen, and he've never 
 known a' the while as I was a-doing it." 
 
 58
 
 Miss Etta Warley is Saved from Peril 59 
 
 " I expect he did," said the rector's wife weakly. 
 
 " Not he," said Mr. Mole. " 'Cos why? I had ut 
 in me gums. This-a-way." 
 
 Mrs. Warley closed her eyes, as Mr. Mole offered 
 proof of his assertions. 
 
 " Never mind ! " she said, " we won't discuss it any 
 further." 
 
 The subject was in any case a digression from the 
 one which had caused Mrs. Warley's visit. This was 
 the conduct of Jem Mole, a grandson of Mr. Mole. 
 Mr. Mole was supposed to have some influence over 
 Jem. 
 
 Mr. Warley had no influence at all, with the result 
 that Jem, who had been employed for some months as 
 odd man at the rectory, had so persisted in his ob- 
 stinacy, more particularly in refusing to distinguish 
 between lawns and flower-beds when intrusted with a 
 scythe, as to cause Mr. Warley much to his regret 
 to give him notice. He had left yesterday without any 
 show of repentance, and it was about this Mrs. Warley 
 had come to talk. 
 
 Mr. Mole had safeguarded himself at the outset by 
 pretending to be unaware who Jem was, of the many 
 lads in the village. 
 
 " I dunno 'em," he said, with patriarchal non-* 
 chalance. " They call me grand-dad, but I dunno 'em. 
 There's such a lot of 'em. I don't rekkernize them." 
 
 " But you know Jem ? " 
 
 " Which will he be? " asked Mr. Mole. 
 
 " He's a big lad, with whitish hair. I thought," 
 said Mrs. Warley, a little disappointed, " that you 
 could have expostulated with him. It's very incon- 
 venient for the rector, because he has no one to drive 
 him, and Jem made rather a good coachman."
 
 60 Miss Etta Warley is Saved from Peril 
 
 " Ah, he knows about hosses, Jem do," said Mr. 
 Mole, with an inconsistent pride. " But gardening he 
 don't somehow keer for, ' puddling ' he calls it. But 
 if you was wanting him back, I can speak to him," he 
 added condescendingly. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know that the rector would really have 
 him back," said Mrs. Warley, " but I'll ask. It seems 
 such a pity that a strong lad like that should be out of 
 work." 
 
 " Ah, it be," said Mr. Mole, who had got past the 
 state of minding it for himself. " Ye have to d6't 
 yerself then, which isn't right not for a par- 
 son." 
 
 Mrs. Warley returned home, feeling that she had at 
 least done her best to prevent further accidents if it 
 should please Providence to bring Amyas safely home 
 that day. He had gone out with Etta and Sir Gawain. 
 Etta was his daughter; Sir Gawain (so named by 
 Miss Etta, who loved the poems of Tennyson) was his 
 horse, a young and lively one. Mole had managed Sir 
 Gawain all right. He knew about horses. The rector 
 did not. 
 
 But needs must, and Mr. Warley was not one in 
 any case to shun a duty, such as was this drive to 
 Waybury, a little town nine miles off. Every one, 
 down to the cook, had been turned out to harness Sir 
 Gawain, and, as a result, that animal, after shying at 
 a pig, a haystack, and a wayside heap of stones re- 
 spectively, had gone off with Mr. Warley and Etta 
 (who was accompanying by Mrs. Warley 's request in 
 case anything should happen and a doctor be required, 
 when two would be better than one, provided, as the 
 rector had pointed out with somber gravity, both 
 should not have been injured at one and the same time)
 
 Miss Etta Warley is Saved from Peril 61 
 
 had gone off at a straightforward, if somewht rat- 
 tling, pace. 
 
 In retrospect, Mr. Warley was convinced that, even 
 allowing for the disgraceful speed of the motor-car 
 which met them on the return journey, all might have 
 been well had Etta only refrained from asking the 
 ostler at Waybury to give Sir Gawain a feed. He did 
 not require a feed. Up to Waybury he had gone fast 
 but with a certain decorum. From Waybury, on the 
 other hand, he had thrown decorum to the winds. He 
 had gone through an infant school at the far end of 
 the town at a pace which made Etta feel faint and Mr. 
 Warley fatalistic. At Gingly, a small village, he scared 
 an old parishioner of Mr. Warley's, who had come out 
 to drop a courtesy. Almost before Mr. Warley had 
 framed the apology which he would have liked to de- 
 liver to this old woman, Sir Gawain was at Dingfield, 
 taking the paint off the wheel of a cart which stood 
 outside " The Three Squirrels," while the carter re- 
 freshed within. 
 
 " A practice which should be made penal," ob- 
 served Mr. Warley, between set teeth, as Sir Gawain 
 flew on. 
 
 " Drinking? " asked Etta. 
 
 " Allowing carts to stand alone on the highway. 
 The sooner these fellows can be taught that an equal 
 right to the road is the privilege of every one, if " 
 
 " Oh, couldn't you pull him in a little ? " cried Etta 
 irrelevantly. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " I think I hear a motor-car coming." 
 
 " Certainly, my dear, certainly," said Mr. Warley; 
 and he pulled in, so far as lay within his power. 
 
 Sir Gawain had ample time, nevertheless, to deter-
 
 62 Miss Etta Warley is Saved from Peril 
 
 mine that the advancing car was not to be treated with 
 equanimity. He stood up on his hind legs, as it 
 buzzed up hooting, laid his ears back and set off at 
 a gallop. 
 
 This was beyond Dingfield, on the Waybury road. 
 
 Mr. Faviel debouched upon this thoroughfare, about 
 a mile nearer to Langston Bucket. He came over a 
 stile, and observed the runaway dogcart at a distance 
 of some hundred yards, coming towards him. An 
 elderly clergyman with pink cheeks and iron-gray hair 
 sat back in the driver's seat, tugging feebly at the 
 reins. His eyes glared like a fish's. Next him, and 
 clinging to the hand-rail of the dogcart in a desperate 
 manner, sat a girl, also with pink cheeks, but with 
 fluffy fair hair. Her eyes were shut. Neither was in 
 a state to notice Mr. Faviel, or anything else; and it 
 was only after he had responded to the emergency 
 and brought Sir Gawain to a halt after a short drag- 
 ging run that they became aware of their rescuer. He 
 was standing at Sir Gawain's head, soothing the 
 frightened beast. 
 
 Mr. Warley thereupon spoke up. 
 
 " That's right ! hold on to him, my man. I er 
 disgraceful ! " 
 
 " Trying to run away, sir ? " 
 
 " The accident," said Mr. Warley, with dignity, 
 " was due to one of those Molochs of the road. I 
 can refer to them under no other name er. An 
 automobile in fact. If I were in Parliament for a 
 
 couple of days What, my dear? " he turned his 
 
 attention to Etta, who had clutched his sleeve. " Feel- 
 ing better?" 
 
 " We ought," said Etta faintly, " to feel very grate- 
 ful to to this " She hardly knew what to call
 
 Miss Etta Warley is Saved from Peril 63 
 
 him. He was a very nice-looking young man, but so 
 eminently muddy. Also, he had a bundle of things, in 
 a red handkerchief. Could he be a gentleman? 
 
 Mr. Warley helped her out by deciding in the 
 negative. 
 
 " Quite so," he said, " you headed the horse off 
 very well, excellently." 
 
 " Not at all, sir," said Mr. Faviel. He had told 
 Tod Wilton, the only information about his intended 
 movements that he had vouchsafed, that he was going 
 to take things as they came, indeterminateness being, 
 in his opinion, the essence of mystery. This was one 
 of the things that had come, that he was taken for a 
 tramp. He hardly realized how disheveled plunging 
 through boggy ground in the dark and sleeping there- 
 after under a hedge had made him, but he was not 
 ill pleased at the results. 
 
 " Happy to have been of any use, sir," he added. 
 
 Mr. Warley began to feel in his pocket. 
 
 " Ought you," Etta whispered, " to give him any- 
 thing?" 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Mr. Warley, mistaking her mean- 
 ing. " It is not indiscriminate charity. My man," he 
 proceeded, addressing Faviel, " you have done very 
 well so far. You have earned something. I have been 
 thinking that if you would drive us home from here 
 you understand how to drive, no doubt? I would 
 make that something into half-a-crown." 
 
 " Thankey, sir," said Mr. Faviel. 
 
 " Very well. I'll get in behind. You stay where 
 you are, Etta." 
 
 Etta felt a distinct flutter at being driven home in 
 a very much more finished style than her father's, or 
 even Jem Mole's by this dirty but handsome tramp.
 
 64 Miss Etta Warley is Saved from Peril 
 
 She thought of all sorts of things on the way both 
 Arthurian in spirit and Georgian. She thought of 
 Lancelot and the lily maid of Astolat. She remem- 
 bered that profligate young baronets, who ran through 
 their money and ended by cheating at cards, some- 
 times redeemed themselves by turning to honest labor 
 and falling in love with some simple and gentle maid. 
 There was not much harm in cheating at cards, after 
 all. Etta had often done it when playing double- 
 dummy with her father. Of course they didn't play 
 for money, which makes a difference. But then, if 
 one repents ? 
 
 She was aroused from these considerations by the 
 voice of her father saying to the young man " The 
 white gate on the left. Take care not to scrape against 
 the post."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 A JOURNALISTIC THUNDERBOLT 
 
 " GOOD gracious me ! Dear, dear, dear ! Bless my 
 soul ! " 
 
 Sir Jasper Mallendon emitted these ejaculations, 
 indicative in succession of horror, pity, and resignation 
 of the kind that is expected from the head of a 
 family who does not wish to betray any weakness in 
 the presence of those who habitually respect him for 
 his self-control at the breakfast table in Kidgrave 
 Square. Judith had arisen from it some time ago, but 
 there still sat round it for the purpose of entertaining 
 Jimmy always a late riser in the holidays Lady 
 Mallendon and Miss Robina Finch. Miss Finch was 
 engaged in the unromantic task of keeping an eye on 
 Jimmy's third egg, which was boiling in a silver boiler. 
 Lady Mallendon at the coffee-urn was prepared at a 
 moment's notice to fill Jimmy's cup. It was a homely 
 scene, but Sir Jasper spoilt it. 
 
 " Bless my soul ! " 
 
 " What is the matter ? " said Lady Mallendon, in 
 great alarm. Miss Finch put on her tragic air as 
 though prepared to bear the worst, but said nothing. 
 
 " Buzz it out ! " said Jimmy encouragingly. 
 
 Sir Jasper buzzed it out in the exasperating way 
 in which people will communicate startling news of 
 which they know that for the moment they have the 
 monopoly. 
 
 ' Mysterious disappearance ! Gentleman vanished ! 
 65
 
 66 A Journalistic Thunderbolt 
 
 Is it foul play? ' Most extraordinary! " said Sir Jas- 
 per, " the last person I should have expected from 
 our house too." 
 
 " But who what ? " asked Lady Mallendon nerv- 
 ously. 
 
 " On the night of your At Home, a fortnight ago 
 exactly. Not heard of since. Excessively unfortu- 
 nate ! I wonder if " 
 
 " Look here, pater," said Jimmy firmly, " what 
 is it?" 
 
 " Yes, pray relieve our anxiety, Sir Jasper," said 
 Miss Finch. 
 
 " Why, certainly, certainly," said Sir Jasper. " I 
 thought I'd told you. There may be nothing in it. 
 You mustn't distress yourselves. These newspaper 
 
 men All right, Jimmy," to his son who had risen 
 
 in impatience. " I've lost the place." 
 
 " But you know who it is." 
 
 " Yes, yes, of course, Mr. Faviel." 
 
 " Mr. Faviel has disappeared ? " 
 
 " So they say here," Sir Jasper acknowledged. " I 
 don't myself believe it for a moment." 
 
 For a complete skeptic Sir Jasper looked so un- 
 commonly moved, and his eyes goggled so rapidly 
 behind his gold-rimmed spectacles, that there was some 
 excuse for the others concluding, as they certainly did, 
 that there was no doubt whatever about the truth of 
 the tragic intelligence. 
 
 " But what a terrible thing ! " said Miss Finch. 
 " The beautiful sunlight, the little birds, the tender 
 coloring of earth's lovely flowers all snatched in a 
 moment." 
 
 " Don't ! " said Lady Mallendon fearfully. " Don't, 
 Robina. I cannot bear to think of it. And even if I
 
 A Journalistic Thunderbolt 67 
 
 could, I don't understand really what has happened. 
 Why should not Mr. Faviel have disappeared from 
 our house? He doesn't live here, does he? And it 
 seems the most natural thing that he should have left 
 us and gone back to his own rooms. Couldn't we send 
 round, Jasper, and inquire if he isn't really at home? 
 Shatters would go in a moment. He has nothing but 
 the silver to clean to-day, and, as we're going down 
 to The Ashlands in a day or two, he'll have plenty of 
 time for that later. I think I'd better ring for Shat- 
 ters, hadn't I ?" 
 
 At the back of Lady Mallendon's mind, a little 
 bewildered though it was by the suddenness and 
 equivocativeness of Sir Jasper's rendering of the intel- 
 ligence, was a feeling of guilt, which made her at once 
 ready to believe the worst and anxious not to. She 
 could not forget how she had schemed that night to 
 keep Mr. Faviel away from Judith, how in the end she 
 had found him in the conservatory on the verge she 
 had been sure of proposing, and how she had re- 
 mained there, for the purpose of preventing it, till Mr. 
 Wilton came in, and he and Mr. Faviel had gone off 
 together. Judith, with her usual reserve, had given 
 no hint or sign of whether Mr. Faviel had said any- 
 thing, or whether she had wanted him to or expected 
 him to. She might have refused him, for all Lady 
 Mallendon knew to the contrary, or nothing might 
 have been said at all. 
 
 But if Mr. Faviel had been disappointed in a fer- 
 vently cherished plan so disappointed that he had 
 gone out and committed something terrible (Lady 
 Mallendon glozed over the word " suicide " in her 
 mind it was too horrible!), was not she in a way 
 responsible ?
 
 68 A Journalistic Thunderbolt 
 
 " Oh, I'm sure Shatters had better go and ask," she 
 said again. 
 
 " I'm afraid," said Sir Jasper lugubriously, " that 
 it's no good sending Shatters except as a politeness. 
 The paper would hardly put in a statement like that 
 without some authority. It isn't the Times, it's true, 
 but there are limits even to a cheaper paper. No, I am 
 afraid we must accept it as a fact that Faviel has dis- 
 appeared. Why he has disappeared " 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " said Lady Mallendon, shuddering. 
 
 " Or where he has disappeared to we have yet to 
 learn. We may never learn. The police have no clue. 
 I am a little surprised that they have not called here." 
 
 "Don't let them!" said Lady Mallendon. "I 
 couldn't bear it. The sooner we go to The Ashlands 
 the better." 
 
 " You mustn't worry yourself, my dear," said Sir 
 Jasper. " The mere fact that he has disappeared from 
 our house and been murdered which, of course, he 
 may not have been," he hastily added, as Lady Mal- 
 lendon turned pale " which in all probability, I may 
 say, he has not been " 
 
 " Of course he hasn't," said Jimmy, who had in the 
 meantime been perusing the newspaper from which 
 the information had come, and also, callously, in Miss 
 Finch's opinion, eating his third egg. " I'd back Mr. 
 Faviel against three murderers. Of course he might 
 have been overpowered by numbers in a cellar or 
 some place with a trap-door only there's no reason 
 for you to excite yourself, mater. Personally, I be- 
 lieve he's lost his memory. Young Fawkesbury did 
 that at school last term after getting whacked on the 
 head with a cricket bat. He got so jolly sidy being 
 tried for the second as wicket-keeper, that he would
 
 A Journalistic Thunderbolt 69 
 
 stand up too close when Robinson Minor was batting. 
 Got a hot leg hit just behind his left ear. He didn't 
 say much at the time stunned, I s'pose, but he gave 
 up his Latin prose with French words in it next day, 
 and couldn't say a line of his Rep. Lots of us thought 
 he was shamming, and Latters was just going to cane 
 him, only luckily he fainted in time. Had to be sent 
 home in the end for a month. We heard afterwards 
 from Tommy Walls's brother, who lives in the same 
 part of London, that young Fawke jolly well had to 
 go out walks with his kiddy sisters' governess, for fear 
 he should get lost and taken to the Dogs' Home." 
 
 The guilty, like the drowning, snatch at straws to 
 save themselves, which is, perhaps, why Lady Mallen- 
 don found comfort in Jimmy's graphic parallel, want- 
 ing in technicality though it was. 
 
 " I shouldn't be at all surprised if that was it," she 
 said eagerly. " I should be dreadfully sorry to think 
 it was poor Mr. Faviel but I expect it is; and if it 
 is " with characteristic agility Lady Mallendon's 
 mind, self -acquitted of the guilty conscience that had 
 weighed her down a moment ago, flew to other and 
 quite different possibilities " if it is the case that Mr. 
 Faviel's memory has gone, which is a dreadful thing 
 to think of, but I'm sure we cannot help it, oughtn't 
 we to try and keep it from " 
 
 Lady Mallendon's lips formed the word " Judith " 
 at Sir Jasper. She hoped that Jimmy, who was en- 
 gaged with marmalade, wouldn't notice. 
 
 " Judith? " said Sir Jasper innocently. 
 
 " Why shouldn't Judith know? " demanded Jimmy. 
 
 Lady Mallendon compressed her lips and raised her 
 eyebrows alternately at Sir Jasper and Miss Finch. 
 
 "What's the game, mater?"
 
 70 A Journalistic Thunderbolt 
 
 " I think it would be wiser," said Lady Mallendon. 
 " When you are older " 
 
 " And more experienced," Jimmy suggested encour- 
 agingly. " Stick to it." 
 
 " We need not discuss the question here," said Lady 
 Mallendon, declining to be drawn. " Have you fin- 
 ished, Jimmy? " 
 
 Jimmy had not finished, and said so. He added 
 that his mother need not mind him. Lady Mallendon, 
 however, stuck to it with such an unwonted tenacity 
 that she succeeded in leaving Miss Finch to administer 
 to Jimmy's wants while she herself interviewed Sir 
 Jasper in the library before he left for the City. 
 
 " Don't you see," she said, " that it's particularly 
 important that Judith should not know ? " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Mr. Blenkenstein is coming to-day." 
 
 Sir Jasper did not see. 
 
 " What's Blenkenstein got to do with it ? " 
 
 He did not care for Mr. Blenkenstein. He might 
 be all right. Finance was rather outside Sir Jasper's 
 province. It was not a matter with which he would 
 have cared to be concerned himself, but that was chiefly 
 because he was aware that, if he were concerned with 
 it, he would very shortly be in the Bankruptcy Court. 
 Still, some one had to manage these things, and Blen- 
 kenstein might have been a money-lender for all Sir 
 Jasper would have minded, if only he had not per- 
 sisted, as he always did, in treating Sir Jasper as a 
 brother magnate of the City with a man of the world's 
 contempt for smaller things. Outside his office, Sir 
 Jasper's sole contempt was for the City, which, in its 
 absurd topsy-turviness had turned him the least likely 
 man in the world into a magnate.
 
 A Journalistic Thunderbolt 71 
 
 Lady Mallendon was impatient at Sir Jasper's 
 obtuseness. 
 
 " He may propose. I know that he is only waiting 
 for an opportunity, and Judith is not, I believe, averse. 
 Then, what with Mr. Blenkenstein's coming down to 
 stop with us, and acting in the play, which is to be in 
 a fortnight, remember, Judith will quite forget that 
 there ever was such a man as Mr. Faviel, and the pain 
 of hearing of this sad affair will be considerably les- 
 sened, if she ever has to hear of it. If she hears of it 
 now, it will be different." 
 
 " But if she doesn't care for Faviel, as you said? " 
 argued Sir Jasper. 
 
 " Men are so slow," said Lady Mallendon wearily. 
 
 " It's the shock the pathos the Suppose, when 
 
 we were engaged, Jasper, that you had suddenly van- 
 ished. Do you suppose that I should have rested till 
 the matter was cleared up ? " 
 
 " I don't suppose you would, my dear," said Sir 
 Jasper. " You were always full of energy. I should 
 have been routed out in no time. But then, Judith and 
 Mr. Faviel aren't engaged. Well, well, I think I see 
 what you mean. Have it as you like. I'll not mention 
 it to Judith." 
 
 " And I'll warn Jimmy and Miss Finch not to," said 
 Lady Mallendon triumphantly. " We shall be going 
 down to The Ashlands the day after to-morrrow, thank 
 goodness."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 MR. WILTON MAKES A MISTAKE 
 
 LADY MALLENDON proposed; but the problem was 
 already on the way to be disposed of, by reason of the 
 fact that Judith had read the paper before any of the 
 others were down. 
 
 While Sir Jasper was reading out the news in the 
 breakfast-room, Judith, a little pale, but dry-eyed and 
 full of imperiousness, was preparing herself or 
 rather, being prepared by her maid for a visit upon 
 which she had decided. 
 
 " Be quick ! " she said, swinging an impatient foot. 
 
 " Yes, miss," said the girl, surprised into meekness. 
 As a rule, Miss Mallendon was most courteous for any 
 service rendered. This morning she was despotic. It 
 might be that, foreseeing a certain humiliation in the 
 course which lay before her, she was desirous of 
 asserting herself where she could. 
 
 " Yes, that hat, any hat, the brown straw with the 
 pink roses; say that I shall be back by lunch-time." 
 
 With an uncommon queenliness of walk, head high, 
 and lips that could curl most instantly, Miss Mallen- 
 don turned out of Kidgrave Square at the same time 
 as Sir Jasper was being sworn to secrecy in the library. 
 She was on her way to call on Mr. Wilton, who, as 
 she remembered to have been told, was stopping with 
 Mr. Faviel in his rooms. 
 
 She did not know why she was going, or what she 
 expected to learn. Only she knew that she must find 
 
 72
 
 Mr. Wilton Makes a Mistake 73 
 
 out if that news in the paper was true. Compounded 
 equally, as a maid should be, of modesty and shame- 
 lessness, she fought a fight as she went in which her 
 shameless self always won to her shame. It was not 
 maidenly, to her ideas, to be hurrying off in this way 
 to a young man's rooms for news of him. Yet, if she 
 had cared for him, if she had been sure that she cared 
 for him, the mere convention would have weighed less 
 than nothing with her. She was ashamed, because she 
 was not sure. She went because she must; conscious 
 that if she did not go, she could expect to hear no 
 more than any ordinary person might hear, of an event 
 which might begin and end, with no word or sign 
 hereafter, in that terrible paragraph no more, per- 
 haps less. As she well knew, her aunt was antag- 
 onistic to Mr. Faviel, might even be relieved to know 
 that, without further trouble, he had removed himself, 
 how it did not matter from the list of her ac- 
 quaintance. He was only an acquaintance. There was 
 no reason why Lady Mallendon should concern herself 
 about him. But to know nothing: Judith could not 
 endure that. 
 
 She tried to argue to herself that this visit was such 
 as a person might pay out of mere friendliness. One 
 could inquire for a friend, surely? But even while 
 she argued, she was thinking of that scene in the con- 
 servatory a fortnight ago. He had come in quickly 
 begun, " Judith." He had never called her " Judith " 
 before. He had no right to call her " Judith " then, 
 
 none whatever, if In that " if " lay the whole 
 
 trouble. Lady Mallendon had come in, followed by 
 Mr. Wilton; and he had said no more than " Judith." 
 A love scene? Judith's lips curled at the creature of 
 fancy who could see a love scene in a single word, her
 
 74 Mr. Wilton Makes a Mistake 
 
 name spoken lightly, no doubt, by a young man. He 
 would have come back, if he had meant to say more. 
 She could not deny that she had expected him to come 
 back. Had she desired it ? And what would she have 
 said to him, if he had come? But he had not come. 
 He was gay and handsome and irresponsible ; she did 
 not like irresponsible people. Mr. Blenkenstein was 
 not irresponsible. He would never have disappeared. 
 But, oh, if Mr. Faviel appeared never again ! 
 
 The idea that he might be dead, and she know 
 nothing of it, increased like a nightmare. She walked 
 more quickly, she had felt that she must walk ; and so, 
 almost panting, she came to the address which she 
 had looked out half an hour before in Lady Mallen- 
 don's book. 
 
 Mr. Wilton, smoking an after-breakfast pipe in a 
 room redolent of kidneys and bacon, a room in which 
 the paraphernalia of the breakfast table were, perhaps, 
 the most orderly objects, owing to a habit Mr. Faviel 
 had of strewing things collected in his travels, from 
 ivory gods to native costumes, broadcast about it, 
 Mr. Wilton in highly-colored carpet slippers and a 
 smoking jacket, was informed by Mrs. Mountbank, 
 Faviel's landlady, that there was a young lady come 
 to see him. 
 
 On the top of these words, Miss Mallendon swept 
 into the room a young goddess, slender and straight 
 and imperious for heroes to reckon with and not a 
 man in highly-colored carpet slippers. Even at the 
 At Home, where Mr. Wilton had tried hard to retain 
 his preconception that no girl could be good enough 
 for Dick Faviel, where, moreover, he had been suitably 
 attired, he had been awed into admiration by her rare 
 and gracious bearing. Here he felt added to the dust
 
 Mr. Wilton Makes a Mistake 75 
 
 beneath her feet, dust which, by the way, he noticed 
 to be plentiful. He was disposed to blame Faviel for 
 having left him in such a dusty room, though it was 
 the first time he had noticed it, and there was another 
 room kept clean for visitors. 
 
 If Mr. Wilton could have been given some warning, 
 and have received Miss Mallendon in the other room, 
 it is possible that he would have succeeded better in 
 carrying off a scene which it is idle to deny ended in 
 a fiasco. 
 
 The thing that contributed most to his undoing was 
 that he had himself just been reading the very news 
 which had brought Judith there. Being in the secret 
 of the wager, he had been immensely annoyed by it 
 on Faviel's behalf. It was undoubtedly a move of 
 Blenkenstein's, a clever move, perhaps, but obviously 
 an irritating one. It made Dick look like a fool. It 
 was going a good deal too far. To make a private bet 
 into a public farce was like betraying a confidence. 
 Besides, the public did not know, and nobody could 
 tell them, by the rules of the wager, what were the 
 rights of the case. Blenkenstein had been confound- 
 edly cunning in securing that no one outside the Com- 
 mittee should be entitled to know the facts. Wilton 
 had not seen how that disability could be made to 
 work, but he was beginning to see now. What would 
 Dick's friends think? What in particular would 
 Dick's divinity think? 
 
 Well, here she was, descended upon him. 
 
 She said : " Good-morning, Mr. Wilton." 
 
 Mr. Wilton replied : " How do you do ? Awfully 
 pleased to I mean it's a jolly " 
 
 Something in her look proved an obstacle to Mr. 
 Wilton's finishing his praise of the weather.
 
 76 Mr. Wilton Makes a Mistake 
 
 " Can you tell me about Mr. Faviel? Is it true? " 
 she asked quickly. 
 
 So she had imagined a tragedy. Mr. Wilton's heart 
 smote him, and a project for going off later, rinding 
 Blenkenstein and punching his head, formed itself in 
 his brain. Not seeing the precise awkwardness of the 
 situation in front of him, he hastened to relieve Miss 
 Mallendon's anxiety. 
 
 " Oh, he's all right, thank you. Nothing the matter 
 with him that I know of." 
 
 Miss Mallendon had refused the chair from which 
 he had sprung in a desperate hurry, and she stood 
 facing him. 
 
 " Perhaps you haven't read the paper this morn- 
 ing ? " she said. 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Mr. Wilton, convinced that she 
 chiefly required to be set at ease. " All rubbish." 
 
 He was so far successful that a fiery blush over- 
 spread her cheeks. 
 
 " It's not true, then, that he has disappeared ? You 
 know where he is? " 
 
 " Oh, he's disappeared all right," said Mr. Wilton, 
 less certainly. " He's disappeared, you know of 
 course. But there's nothing in that. I don't know 
 where he is as a matter of fact. He didn't tell me 
 where he was going " 
 
 " But you knew he was going? " 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Wilton, still more uneasily and 
 hampered by the rules of the wager, " I can't say that 
 exactly. It's it's probably some joke." 
 
 "Some joke?" 
 
 " Or business " 
 
 " I see." 
 
 Miss Mallendon's perception was recorded in the
 
 Mr. Wilton Makes a Mistake 77 
 
 iciest of voices. Her cheeks were no longer flushed. 
 
 " It's more business, I expect," said Mr. Wilton, 
 feeling like a fish at the end of a line, " than anything 
 else. It's quite true Dick's vanished, as I say, but 
 how it got into the papers I can't say at least it's 
 an awful shame. Makes such a fool of him ! " 
 
 " It does, doesn't it ? " Miss Mallendon agreed. 
 " I'm sorry to have troubled you, Mr. Wilton. But 
 you see I we Lady Mallendon was naturally anx- 
 ious as it happened at her house according to the 
 paper." The lie almost stuck, but it got through, and 
 crumpled up Mr. Wilton. 
 
 " Not at all I mean awfully good of you. I'll tell 
 
 Dick, or rather Must you go? This room's in 
 
 a beastly state. May I get you a cab ? " 
 
 He returned a minute or two later, having seen 
 Miss Mallendon as far as the door, where he had 
 been politely dismissed, in a state bordering on dis- 
 traction. Exactly what had gone wrong he could not 
 make out, but that whatever had gone wrong had gone 
 excessively wrong he could not fail to realize. Ought 
 he to have professed to be anxious about Dick? He 
 was anxious enough, but Miss Mallendon's tragic face 
 had set him on the wrong track if that was the right 
 one. He would have supposed that she would have 
 been rather relieved to know that he was safe, if she 
 liked him. He wished to heaven he had not accepted 
 the care of Dick's rooms during Dick's absence. He 
 wished that somebody would come in and kick him, or 
 that somebody would come in whom he might kick. 
 
 Meanwhile Judith, with heavy limbs and a heart 
 smoldering with indignation, was faring homeward. 
 At the time she had refused Mr. Wilton's offer to get 
 a cab, because her one desire then was to get away
 
 78 Mr. Wilton Makes a Mistake 
 
 from him. But when she had walked a little way, 
 and a cabman hailed her, she was glad. She wanted 
 to be quit of the staring shops and the jolting people. 
 A newspaper boy, who insisted on protecting her dress 
 as she stepped in and selling her one of his evening 
 papers afterwards, got sixpence from a very limp 
 young lady. 
 
 The pink sheet lay on Judith's knees, unregarded 
 until by mere chance her eye lighted on a head-line 
 
 " STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE. 
 A NEW EXPLANATION." 
 
 She read what was printed below languidly enough, 
 wondering why people should take the trouble to make 
 such dramatic mountains out of the merest molehills. 
 A personal description was given of the vanished man ; 
 she saw and noted that it was mostly wrong. Mr. 
 Faviel's eyes were not blue. And what could be the 
 use of an interview with Mr. Faviel's shoemaker, even 
 though that expert in leather had committed himself 
 to the opinion that he would never have expected so 
 pleasant a gentleman to go off in such a queer way? 
 There was nothing queer about it. It was a joke. 
 Mr. Wilton, who knew, had said it was a joke. A 
 joke to be discussed and chatted about in a wretched 
 paper like this. 
 
 Her eye, traveling on, caught a couple of lines at 
 the end of the article : 
 
 " It is now believed that Mr. Faviel has eloped with 
 a well-known German actress." 
 
 Miss Mallendon bit her underlip in sudden anguish. 
 Then, though nobody could have seen the previous 
 weakness, she curled the upper one disdainfully. No
 
 Mr. Wilton Makes a Mistake 79 
 
 wonder Mr. Wilton had been confused, if that was the 
 joke. 
 
 And she had gone to visit his rooms! 
 
 It was quite a pleasant thought for the rest of the 
 cab journey, that all men were not jesters. Mr. Blen- 
 kenstein a greater man in every way would see no 
 humor in such an affair as this. And if a man like 
 Mr. Blenkenstein wished to make a foolish and pride- 
 sick girl his wife, it would be it would be great good 
 luck for such a girl. 
 
 At the personal prospect of the good luck, never- 
 theless Miss Mallendon, seeing it now for the first time 
 as a very likely and immediate thing, could not refrain 
 from a slight shiver.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 FIRST APPEARANCE OF MONARCH 
 
 " 'Tis a bit of a sharp trick," said O'Levin. He 
 had come over to Faviel's rooms in response to a note 
 from Mr. Tod Wilton, whose spirits after a disturbed 
 night, in which he had dreamed of six more inter- 
 views with Miss Mallendon during each of which he 
 made a more hideous fool of himself than in the previ- 
 ous one, had sunk to zero. Tod's hope had been that 
 consultation with O'Levin might reveal some streak of 
 hope in the overshadowed sky of Dick's affairs. He 
 had intended to reveal what had happened on the night 
 of Dick's disappearance a fortnight ago a happen- 
 ing the weak point in which was, as Mr. Maxhaven 
 had pointed out at the time, that in all probability it 
 could not be proved that Blenkenstein had violated 
 the rules of the wager. The train by which they had 
 traveled to Haleden Hoo was scheduled to start at 
 midnight: Blenkenstein would surely say that he had 
 placed his men at twelve o'clock precisely at various 
 points a thing he was entitled to do and that, 
 whether it was luck or good guesswork, they had hit 
 on Faviel's precise vanishing-point. 
 
 Tod had rather hoped that O'Levin would find a 
 counter-argument which would demonstrate this to be 
 mere prevarication. But, as a matter of fact, Tod did 
 not get as far as revealing the events of that night. 
 He had begun by asking O'Levin if he did not think 
 
 80
 
 First Appearance of Monarch 81 
 
 Blenkenstein's sensational articles in the newspaper 
 would justify Dick in throwing up the wager, suppos- 
 ing O'Levin would be sympathetic at all events on this 
 point, and that the other matter would clinch him. 
 O'Levin, however, for some reason or other was not 
 sympathetic. 
 
 " Tis a bit of a sharp trick," he said. " But I'm not 
 saying it's not in the game. We're not using it in 
 the ' Drum ' because we're full up of copy ; but you 
 can't blame Blink for trying it on. It's an advertise- 
 ment for Faviel. The greatest men like it nowa- 
 days." 
 
 " You can't deny," said Tod hotly, " that that story 
 about eloping with an actress is sickening, when he 
 knows and we all know what we do." 
 
 O'Levin shuffled in his chair. He had a very fair 
 inkling of what Tod referred to namely, Faviel's 
 relations towards Blenkenstein concerning Miss Mal- 
 lendon; and his private opinion of Blenkenstein for 
 using the papers to circulate a scandalous rumor coin- 
 cided singularly with Tod's. Unfortunately he had, in 
 a careless way, borrowed at times from Blenkenstein; 
 repaid him chiefly by a manner of effusive friendliness 
 which came too easily to him ; and, having been insin- 
 cerely over- friendly, was trying to make amends to his 
 own conscience by remaining tongue-tied at the present 
 juncture. 
 
 Tod's moral fervor gave him that sense of injury 
 with which people sometimes ease their other sense 
 of being in the wrong. 
 
 " Oh, I'm not denying anything," he said airily. 
 " Maybe, as I say, 'tis a bit sharp. Don't ask me what 
 Blink thinks he gains by it, the more so " O'Levin's 
 affectation of relating a commonplace was somewhat
 
 82 First Appearance of Monarch 
 
 strained " as I understand that he is to all intents 
 and purposes engaged to Miss Mallendon " 
 
 " What ? " Mr. Wilton leapt to his feet. 
 
 " So he told me himself this morning." 
 
 "Engaged?" 
 
 " Well, mostly. It's to be finally settled in a fort- 
 night, so he said, but it's all right in the meanwhile. 
 I believe it to be a fact. When our friend Blink is 
 telling a lie he is cute enough, but he was dying to tell 
 the truth, and he could not hide it." 
 
 " The man's a bounder." 
 
 " Come," said O'Levin, who had begun to recover 
 his humor. " Ye must not say that. For one thing, 
 the word is out of date. For another, the elements 
 that went to make up the bounder are no longer of 
 the shade that they were. They have been restored 
 into virtues, and we strive after them, since they are 
 not merely their own reward. The flowing tide, Tod, 
 my boy. But apart from that and I will grant you 
 for the sake of argument that in some ways Blink 
 is no gentleman he may have an excuse for babbling 
 his love affairs. He may wish it to be known to 
 Faviel, so that no complications may ensue. He may 
 have followed the most delicatest chain of reasoning. 
 Anyway, ye've no occasion to punch his head at all." 
 
 The last remark may have been due to Mr. Wilton's 
 clenched-fist action as he strode up and down the 
 room. He certainly would have rejoiced to have 
 Blenkenstein there. 
 
 " You don't think there's anything to be done 
 then?" he asked. 
 
 O'Levin shrugged. 
 
 " Blink has the whip hand, there's not a doubt of 
 it. Dick might come out and lose the wager. But,
 
 First Appearance of Monarch 83 
 
 for myself, charming as Miss Mallenclon is, I would, 
 under the circumstances, lie low and keep me eye on 
 the ten thousand. He's done a fortnight already." 
 
 " And you say the engagement is to be announced 
 in another fortnight." 
 
 " From yesterday, so I gather. The maiden's coy, 
 we may take it. Meanwhile, Blink goes down to The 
 Ashlands, Sir Jasper's house in the country, to stop 
 and help in a pastoral play written by Miss Finch. 
 There is to be a big house party twenty dramatis 
 persona, not counting choruses. Miss Mallendon is 
 to be the heroine, Blink the hero. I worse luck 
 will be stage manager, having a few days off just then. 
 'Tis for a charity, I need hardly say, and will be in 
 the garden, probably during a thunderstorm. Alto- 
 gether 'twill be the queerest little, dog-rotten, sugar- 
 and-water, demi-semi Savoy imitation that ever made 
 a man's side ache. Only, I fear me, Lieutenant, our 
 friend Dick will be out of it entirely." 
 
 Mr. Wilton's reply to this dismal prognostication, 
 if he had intended to give any, was lost, owing to a 
 knock on the door, followed by the announcement, in 
 the voice of Dick's landlady 
 
 " A lady to see you, sir." 
 
 " I'll go," said O'Levin. 
 
 " Don't," said Mr. Wilton imploringly. The idea 
 that it might be Miss Mallendon, come back for an- 
 other interview, weakened his knees. 
 
 " You can't get out by the window," O'Levin was 
 beginning in some surprise, when the door was opened 
 and the further simple announcement made, 
 
 " Miss Faviel." 
 
 A tall and handsome old lady, with remarkably 
 bright eyes, wrinkled at the corners, and an upright
 
 84 First Appearance of Monarch 
 
 gait, that made the stout stick she carried seem a 
 superfluity, thereupon entered the room, preceded by 
 a small, stout dog, which made straight for O'Levin's 
 ankles. 
 
 " Down, Monarch ! " said the old lady, adding, 
 " Do not be alarmed, Mr. ? " 
 
 " O'Levin," said that gentleman, stirring his feet 
 uneasily. " Or, rather, madam, I would say it was 
 me name before I was torn to bits. Ye'll excuse me 
 criticising your little baste, but fear, as Stevenson puts 
 it, is the great passion." 
 
 " But you mustn't be afraid, Mr. O'Levin. Down, 
 Monarch ! Quiet, you wicked one ! He's not " Miss 
 Faviel offered the explanation with a good deal of 
 pride, " he is not very well at present, owing to our 
 railway journey. Trains always upset him, but noth- 
 ing, I believe, would prevent him from challenging 
 a stranger. He used to be a great ratter." 
 
 Monarch, whose appearance was that of a very 
 diminutive pug with the curl taken out, had come off, 
 but stood defiantly in the room while this account of 
 his habits and temperament was offered, with his thin 
 tail stiffly angled and his four feet apart. His eyes 
 bulged ferocity at O'Levin. 
 
 " Has he a bad memory, may be? " asked O'Levin. 
 " He seems to take me for a rat." 
 
 "Oh, I don't think that," said Miss Faviel 
 graciously. " He is curiously intelligent, and in reality 
 very good-natured." 
 
 " We ought to get on together," said O'Levin 
 modestly. 
 
 " I think," said Miss Faviel, smiling and turning 
 towards Wilton, " if a piece of sugar could be ob- 
 tained, Mr. Wilton I thought you must be Mr. Wil-
 
 First Appearance of Monarch 85 
 
 ton, Richard has often spoken to me of you and if 
 Mr. O'Levin were to present the lump of sugar to 
 Monarch, there would be no ill-feeling on either side." 
 
 " None on mine," said O'Levin. 
 
 " And none on Monarch's. Once his friend, always 
 his friend. He is rather like an elephant in that 
 respect." 
 
 Tod, who had obtained the sugar without having 
 as yet had any explanation of Miss Faviel's presence, 
 had the pleasure of seeing O'Levin going through the 
 process of making friends with Monarch. After he 
 had succeeded in making Monarch speak to him, Miss 
 Faviel, who had in the meantime taken an armchair, 
 proceeded to show the stuff of which she was made. 
 
 " I suppose you are also a friend of my nephew's? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " At your service." 
 
 " Then I am sure you will forgive me for saying 
 that it is highly important for me to have an hour with 
 Mr. Wilton, if he can spare the time. Perhaps later 
 on I may have the pleasure of seeing you again." 
 
 O'Levin went like a lamb, and Mr. Wilton remained 
 like one. 
 
 " And now, Mr. Wilton," said the old lady, " I must 
 tell you that I have come up to try and clear this 
 mystery about my nephew, and I want your assistance. 
 In the first place, I do not believe that story about 
 Richard eloping with a German actress. As I said to 
 my friend, Miss Cort, if she had been a French actress 
 perhaps but not a German. Whatever may be 
 Richard's faults, he always showed good taste." 
 
 At a later date, Mr. Wilton informed Miss Faviel 
 that he owed her, indirectly, his life's happiness, in 
 a sly speech, which, as Miss Faviel informed her com-
 
 86 First Appearance of Monarch 
 
 panion, Miss Cort, was characteristic of one of the 
 pleasantest and most honest young men she knew. But 
 had Mr. Wilton been asked what he owed Miss Faviel 
 at the end of his first half-hour's acquaintance with 
 her, he would have said a most trying time, crammed 
 full of deceits such as he scarcely hoped could escape 
 discovery. The truth is, that that impression of Mr. 
 Wilton's honesty, which Miss Faviel had received from 
 her first glance, saved him more than he knew. Miss 
 Faviel took his stutterings for modesty, and his care- 
 fully guarded contradictions in terms for evidences of 
 slow but honest thinking; and, being convinced that 
 Mr. Wilton, whose affection for her nephew Richard 
 was obvious, would have informed her at once, had 
 he known anything about him that she did not know, 
 never for a moment supposed that he was fencing with 
 her all the time. In fact, Miss Faviel was so full of 
 her own schemes and opinions that, after some pre- 
 liminaries regarding Richard's state of mind previous 
 to his disappearance, his finances, and so forth, she 
 left the subject of what Mr. Wilton might know or 
 suppose for a statement of her own plan of operation. 
 
 " The first step, as I said to Miss Cort and Dr. 
 Bardie, who came in this morning just before Monarch 
 and I started, is to interview the Mallendons. I dare 
 say you hadn't thought of that, Mr. Wilton, since, as 
 you say, you have only met them the once, but it seems 
 to me the most necessary thing. It was from their 
 house Richard disappeared. He has frequently spoken 
 of them to me. I do not connect them in any way 
 with his disappearance, of course, but I do think they 
 may be able to throw some light on it. So if you will 
 give their address I will call at once." 
 
 Mr. Wilton gave it, perforce, with the result that a
 
 First Appearance of Monarch 87 
 
 couple of hours later Miss Faviel and Monarch again 
 descended upon him. 
 
 " It seems that they have just gone off, this morn- 
 ing in fact, to their country house, which is, I under- 
 stand, fifty miles out of London. Now, I don't want 
 to bother you, Mr. Wilton, but I should like you to 
 do me a service, if you can. I have got my usual 
 rooms at the Metropole for to-night, but to-morrow, 
 or perhaps the next day, I wish to go down and call 
 on Sir Jasper Mallendon. Unfortunately, as I think 
 I told you, railway traveling upsets poor Monarch, 
 and I have been wondering if you knew where I could 
 procure a motor-car, and a clever responsible man to 
 drive me down. Dr. Bardie was saying what an ex- 
 cellent effect motoring has upon dogs. I should go 
 down, say, upon Tuesday, and put up at the nearest 
 village for a night or so, so as to have ample time 
 to see Sir Jasper, who might of course be out to begin 
 with. If you know of such a thing " 
 
 " I can hire a car easily enough," said Mr. Wilton, 
 " and get a decent man, I dare say. It won't be any 
 trouble. I'd do anything for Dick, you know." 
 
 " I'm sure you would," said Miss Faviel. 
 
 Mr. Wilton was not often troubled with the con- 
 sciousness of being a hypocrite, but he was on this 
 occasion, though, after all, he had only spoken the 
 truth.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 HIGGINSON 
 
 " HIGGINSON ? " 
 
 " Yes, miss." 
 
 " I thought I told you to come and change the pots 
 in the greenhouse." 
 
 Etta's tone was pettish: it was meant to be severe. 
 The face of Mr. Warley's groom-gardener fell in a 
 kind of humorous resignation, as, putting down the 
 hoe with which he was attacking the very few weeds 
 which had managed to rear themselves in the trim 
 rectory borders, he advanced to the greenhouse in 
 which Miss Etta stood with a pout upon her lips. 
 
 " What was it you wanted changed, miss ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 Mr. Faviel, under the nom-de-guerre of Higginson, 
 had been in his present situation for just over a fort- 
 night. The bright idea of engaging him to take the 
 place of the recalcitrant Jem was, Mr. Warley firmly 
 believed, his own, and Etta did not dispute the notion. 
 On the contrary, when Mr. Warley actually broached 
 it, which he fancied he did of his own accord, Etta 
 had rather joined sides with her mother in being 
 alarmed at the notion of engaging a man who was a 
 mere tramp, and might be a burglar. 
 
 Perhaps she was not unaware that female opposi- 
 tion was the one thing calculated to make her father 
 fixed in a resolution.
 
 Higginson 89 
 
 " To refuse an opportunity of employing an honest 
 and capable young fellow merely because he comes to 
 us in an unusual way is, to my mind, absurd," said 
 Mr. Warley. " I am perfectly prepared to admit that 
 it is not desirable to make the thing a precedent, but 
 I flatter myself that I have a certain gift of reading 
 character, and my reading in this case is satisfactory." 
 
 " If the house is broken into? " said Mrs. Warley. 
 
 " I shall confess myself in the wrong." 
 
 This was a thing Mr. Warley so very rarely did that 
 he was not perhaps unjustified in holding it forth as 
 prospective consolation for the disaster Mrs. Warley 
 feared. 
 
 Mr. Faviel had closed with the offer made to him 
 on much the same grounds as those on which Mr. 
 Warley made it. It was an opportunity, coming in 
 an unusual way, of taking up his residence in that part 
 of the country without attracting attention. He had 
 told Tod Wilton that his sole plan of operations was 
 to be without plans, since that, in his opinion, was 
 the safest way of evading pursuit. In this case, he had 
 not planned to stop Sir Gawain on the Waybury road, 
 nor even to be on that road. He had simply come 
 upon it in the course of a night's walking and run- 
 ning. Still less had he schemed to be taken into the 
 service of Mr. Warley. The service turned up a 
 triumph of haphazard. The men who had followed 
 him to Haleden Hoo, whom he had lost sight of, and 
 who must therefore have lost sight of him fifteen miles 
 away at least, could hardly trace him to the room over 
 the coach-house at Langston Bucket, except by as mere 
 a chance as that which had brought him there. 
 
 By the rules of the wager, he was allowed the whole 
 of England as his hiding-place, a stipulation having
 
 90 Higginson 
 
 been made that he should not go outside it. That was 
 reasonable enough, as Faviel had thought at the time. 
 And now he thought, with forty-two counties at his 
 disposal, there was no reason why he should be easily 
 traced to this one. The men knew that he disap- 
 peared at Haleden Hoo, but he had to start some- 
 where. They had no grounds for supposing that he 
 would stop in or near his starting-place. 
 
 Here, if Mr. Faviel had considered it, was the weak 
 point, both of his reasoning and his action. True, he 
 had stopped at Langston Bucket by chance, and there 
 was no reason why Mr. Boke should theorize as to his 
 thereabouts. But, on the other hand, deliberately or 
 not, he had come to stop at a part of the county not 
 very remote from The Ashlands Sir Jasper Mallen- 
 don's country house. Then, Mr. Boke's employer, 
 whose object in making the wager was largely the 
 removal of Faviel from the Mallendon sphere, at what 
 he considered to be a critical time in his relations with 
 Miss Mallendon, might have been expected at least to 
 consider the possibility of that object being circum- 
 vented in part by some movement on Faviel's side not 
 very dissimilar to that which he had actually made 
 by disappearing, in short, to some obscure point of 
 vantage. 
 
 Though he had not put himself sufficiently into 
 Blenkenstein's position to anticipate the spoiling of his 
 own line of argument by this counter-one, Mr. Faviel 
 had not spent his fortnight at Langston Bucket with- 
 out some disturbance of his security. The work ex- 
 pected of him was not the trouble; nor would the 
 inevitable feeling of uncertainty, the knowledge that 
 chance might go against him and the blow fall upon 
 him at any moment, have weighed upon him much in
 
 Higginson 91 
 
 the ordinary fashion. No, the things that gave him 
 food for anxiety were different. One was the thought 
 of how he had parted from Judith Mallendon, and 
 what she would think of him for so doing; the other 
 was the thought of how he was to avoid entangling 
 himself with Etta Warley. 
 
 This last and minor, but not unimportant, consid- 
 eration was what caused Mr. Faviel's face to show 
 a resigned humor, as, having put down his hoe, he 
 walked to where Miss Etta stood in the greenhouse. 
 
 He did not put it to himself that she had fallen in 
 love with him, though a less modest man could hardly 
 have failed to. What he had to allow was that she 
 had prepared herself to see him in a light sufficiently 
 romantic to make the notion of falling in love not 
 unpleasant. 
 
 She was a nice child, but absurdly innocent and 
 romantic. Any other man, if she could have scented 
 a mystery in him, would have served her purpose, but 
 Langston Bucket was hardly the place to provide any 
 other man of the kind required. Meanwhile, Mr. 
 Faviel was the hero and victim in one; and it some- 
 times made him feel quite grandfatherly and benef- 
 icent ; at others, a wretched hypocrite. 
 
 If only Mrs. Warley had not got over her first sus- 
 picions of Higginson, she might have been of material 
 assistance. Unluckily, Dick's genial politeness, coupled 
 with his successful treatment of the kitchen chimney 
 one afternoon, when it caught fire, in the rector's ab- 
 sence, had quite changed her opinions of the new 
 groom, and she had reverted to her natural state of 
 mind, which was one of trustful simplicity. 
 
 Etta had her own way, in fact. It consisted largely 
 in superintending Higginson's work in the garden in
 
 92 Higginson 
 
 a kind but strict manner, or in making him drive her 
 about the parish on charitable business. The villagers 
 had received such attentions from Miss Etta during 
 the past few days as they had never known before. 
 The groom drove her to each cottage in turn ; she de- 
 scended, a pretty Miss Bountiful, such as might im- 
 press the veriest wretch. 
 
 It was not humbug, but the natural desire to please, 
 and influence, somebody who, she was quite sure, was 
 in some way a ne'er-do-well. His retrospective wild- 
 ness made him perfectly romantic; only, of course, it 
 must not recur the wildness mustn't. He might not 
 be destined to greatness, but, at least, she could aid 
 into right paths this handsome young man. By being 
 good and dignified, as well as pretty, she could not 
 fail to impress him. And indeed, while she was dig- 
 nified, Higginson was apparently impressed: it was 
 when she became kindly and stooped to conquer, that 
 he wasn't grateful. She could not explain what it was 
 in his behavior that annoyed her, unless it was his want 
 of intelligence. Now, for example, when one would 
 have supposed that he would have so humbly adored 
 her as to be counting the moments when he might 
 shift flower-pots under her eye, instead of coming at 
 the time she had named, he had forgotten all about it. 
 It was humiliating, and she resented it. 
 
 She was in a state of high resentment at the present 
 moment. 
 
 " I imagined that I had told you that I wanted the 
 chrysanthemums moved," she said. " If they're not 
 too heavy for you, of course. In that case I'll do 
 them myself." 
 
 Dick concealed a smile at the babe-like irony, and 
 set about the business of moving the chrysanthemums
 
 Higginson 93 
 
 with a great pretense of assiduity. Etta, superintend- 
 ing, made him take three pots at a time, by way of 
 punishment, and would not talk for several minutes; 
 not, indeed, until Dick, having inadvertently dropped 
 a pot, which crashed to pieces on the stone floor, still 
 more inadvertently said " Damn ! " adding, without no- 
 ticing the lapse " I'm sorry, miss. I hope it wasn't 
 a valuable one." 
 
 Miss Etta was all shocked dignity. 
 
 " The pot does not matter," she said. " But I am 
 sorry, very sorry, that you should dare to use such 
 language in my presence." 
 
 " What did I say ? " asked the abashed Higginson. 
 
 " Never mind ! " said Etta. 
 
 "Was it ?" 
 
 "Higginson!" 
 
 Dick turned away to conceal a grin at the assump- 
 tion of modesty. 
 
 " It was a slip, miss," he announced, between 
 coughs. 
 
 " I hope so," said Etta, " and I hope you will never, 
 never make such a slip again." 
 
 This sentiment, having been delivered in a tone 
 altogether crushing, and Higginson appearing unusu- 
 ally contrite, she was restored to her natural good 
 spirits, and in a very little while conversation was 
 flowing in the desired channels. The fact is, Etta, who 
 had been visited by some friends of hers, the Mordants, 
 in the morning, had a piece of news to communicate 
 which she would have rejoiced to tell any one, and felt 
 would particularly impress Higginson. She entered 
 upon it without much subtlety. 
 
 " Have you ever seen a play, Higginson ? " she 
 inquired.
 
 94 Higginson 
 
 Higginson admitted that he had. 
 
 " I suppose," said Etta, " that you thought the 
 actresses very beautiful." 
 
 Higginson admitted that he did, as he was sup- 
 posed to. 
 
 " Well," said Etta, " what do you think, Higginson? 
 I'm going to be an actress ! " 
 
 "You don't say it?" 
 
 Etta nodded. 
 
 " In some amateur theatricals which Lady Mallen- 
 don is going to give on behalf of a charity at The 
 Ashlands." 
 
 "Lady Mallendon?" 
 
 She did not notice his question, but went on, full 
 of herself 
 
 " Many people think that amateur theatricals are 
 often better done than real professional ones. But 
 anyhow this ought to be splendid. It's so kind of 
 Lady Mallendon, isn't it, to do it for a charity? I 
 dare say, if you're very anxious for it, Higginson, you 
 would be allowed to go over and see it with the other 
 servants as I'm acting." 
 
 " Thanky," said Higginson, who was considering 
 the offer. " It would be a fine sight." 
 
 " You don't seem very curious to know what part I 
 am to take," said Etta reproachfully. 
 
 " I'd like to know, miss." 
 
 " Well," said Etta, " it's not exactly what is called 
 a big part. Miss Muriel Mordant was to have taken 
 it, but she's ill. That's why Mrs. Mordant came over 
 this morning to ask me if I would play it instead. 
 Lady Mallendon thought I would be just the person 
 when Mrs. Mordant suggested it. There's a Princess 
 in the play, and she's going to be done by Miss Mai-
 
 Higginson 95 
 
 lendon. I'm to be her maid. It's rather curious, isn't 
 it, Higginson, that I should be a maid ? " 
 
 Etta languished a little. 
 
 " It is, miss, very curious. I should hardly think," 
 said Higginson cautiously, " that you'd know how to 
 do it, being a young lady." 
 
 It was this sort of dullness that exasperated Miss 
 Warley. 
 
 " Of course you don't understand. Acting is it's 
 a matter of temperament. If you have the imagina- 
 tion, you can be anything. I believe I could be a a 
 scullery maid, if I worked myself up. And " Etta 
 spoke with great unconcern " if you had the tem- 
 perament, you could be a Prince." 
 
 " Law," said Dick, " I don't think that would be 
 much in my line." 
 
 If only he wouldn't use those vulgar expressions at 
 such moments, Etta thought. She almost preferred 
 the wicked ones. 
 
 " Don't you ever feel ambitious, Higginson ? Don't 
 you ever want to rise above your position ? " she asked 
 impatiently. There was a little extra glow in her 
 healthy cheeks, and her eyes sparkled: danger signals 
 to the wary groom-gardener. 
 
 He pondered the question with the sobriety due to 
 his assumed profession. 
 
 " I don't know," he said at last, " but what I haven't 
 
 fancied butlering in a big house But there's the 
 
 responsibility, miss." 
 
 Etta flounced out of the greenhouse in a rage. 
 Higginson might look handsome, and dashing, and 
 romantic, but he had a prosaic soul. How could his 
 highest ambition be to become a butler ? 
 
 She took her bicycle, intending to go for a ride to
 
 96 Higginson 
 
 soothe her wounded feelings. Passing a respectably 
 dressed man whom she had seen once or twice of late 
 in the village, she said to herself, " He might be a 
 butler " and thought the less of Higginson.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 MR. BOKE ON THE TRAIL 
 
 THE days that had intervened between the night of 
 Mr. Faviel's successful evasion of Blenkenstein's de- 
 tective agent and the afternoon upon which Miss Etta 
 Warley went out for the ride on her bicycle, had been 
 spent by Mr. Boke in no idle fashion. 
 
 His presence in Langston Bucket for that it was 
 Mr. Boke whom Etta took for a typical butler may 
 be at once confessed had been a good deal more fre- 
 quent than Etta or any one else supposed. For three 
 or four days past in fact Mr. Boke who would have 
 given his name, if challenged, as Captain Bunbury 
 (retired) and his address as " The Windmill," Hang- 
 ing Coppice had been keeping an eye on the rector's 
 new groom-gardener. 
 
 How had Mr. Boke arrived at Langston Bucket in 
 the first instance ? By no mere chance, nor yet as he 
 himself would have been the first to allow by the 
 help of any profound a priori reasoning. When Mr. 
 Boke drew his men off the prostrate bodies of Mr. 
 Maxhaven and Tod Wilton about half-a-mile from the 
 station of Haleden Hoo having discovered that his 
 proper quarry had escaped, things appeared to the de- 
 tective about as black as they could be. There was 
 no precise good in attempting to pursue a man by 
 night who had got twenty minutes' start over an un- 
 known country, and Mr. Boke had not attempted it. 
 
 97
 
 98 Mr. Boke on the Trail 
 
 His immediate business was to make sure that the 
 two gentlemen whom he had so mistakenly assaulted 
 and of whose identity he was ignorant should not 
 succeed in placing the police upon his track, as they 
 might not unreasonably be expected to do. The posi- 
 tion of the hunted hunter was not one that appealed 
 to Mr. Boke. Accordingly he dismissed his two fol- 
 lowers in different directions, and himself, having 
 walked about till he was weary, took a workmen's 
 train up to London in the morning. 
 
 At eleven o'clock the next day Mr. Boke went to 
 communicate the result of his night's raiding to Blen- 
 kenstein. It was a humiliating thing to have to do, 
 but no other course was open to him. If the youth at 
 the inquiry office could have known what feelings 
 animated Mr. Boke on this occasion of his second visit 
 he might have had his revenge. Luckily, he could not 
 know, and meekly conducted Mr. Boke to his em- 
 ployer's presence. 
 
 " Well ? " said Blenkenstein eagerly. 
 
 " Gone away, sir," said Mr. Boke with sadness. 
 
 Blenkenstein's face, which had been almost puckered 
 with anxiety, cleared. 
 
 "Good! "he said. 
 
 Mr. Boke marveled at this cheerful receipt of the 
 news of his unsuccess. 
 
 The fact was that it came as an intense relief to 
 Blenkenstein. Almost as soon as he had, on the night 
 of the Mallendon At Home, in a fit of temper given 
 the signal which was to effect Faviel's capture, Blen- 
 kenstein had repented of it. He wanted to win the 
 wager, but he realized now he wanted Faviel out of 
 the way far more. There was no reason to suppose 
 that Faviel had proposed that night. (Later Lady
 
 Mr. Boke on the Trail 99 
 
 Mallendon hinted that such a thing could not have 
 been possible, considering Mr. Faviel had been in the 
 conservatory for little over a minute.) Consequently 
 there was no reason for Blenkenstein to prevent him 
 from disappearing so far as Judith Mallendon was 
 concerned but every reason to help him to disappear, 
 until such time as he might be brought to light, a loser 
 both of the money and the maid. Yet by giving the 
 signal Blenkenstein had almost risked losing what was 
 to him more than half the stake. Moreover, he had 
 since reflected that in setting Boke on the track before 
 the time limit was up, he had in any case risked more 
 than was really worth while. Suppose the arbiters 
 had got an inkling of it and made him forfeit his 
 money ! 
 
 " Tell me what happened," he said, to the highly 
 astonished Mr. Boke. 
 
 Mr. Boke related what had happened, making the 
 best, it must be allowed, of his own achievements in 
 the matter, and glozing over anything that might ap- 
 pear to reflect discredit upon his management. 
 
 " It was the darkness did it," he concluded. " A 
 cat couldn't ha' seen to catch a mouse that night, and 
 no wonder we went for the wrong 'uns." 
 
 " You don't know who they were ? " Blenkenstein 
 inquired, rather amused by the notion of his employes 
 rolling two unknown gentlemen in the dust. 
 
 " No, I don't. Too dark, sir." 
 
 " And they couldn't have recognized you ? " 
 
 " Not if they'd bin my brothers, sir," said Mr. 
 Boke. 
 
 " You don't think," said Blenkenstein, " there could 
 possibly have been any collusion between them and Mr. 
 Faviel? You're sure of that? Well, it doesn't much
 
 ioo Mr. Boke on the Trail 
 
 matter if the train you went down by was the 12:20, 
 as you say." 
 
 The time of the train was, as a matter of fact, one 
 of the points that Mr. Boke had made the most of, 
 since, without confiding reasons, Blenkenstein had em- 
 phasized the importance of not appearing to be on the 
 track before midnight. 
 
 " Oh, yes, we kept instructions, sir." 
 
 "Except that you didn't catch your man, eh? 
 However," said Blenkenstein, who could be magnani- 
 mous when things were going well with him, " as it 
 happens, I don't mind about that, provided, of course, 
 you can get on to his tracks again soon. I want him 
 watched now, not shown up. I want you to be so sure 
 of him that any moment I decide on I can go up to 
 him and put a letter in his hand." 
 
 It may be mentioned here that the token of failure 
 on Faviel's part and success on Blenkenstein's was to 
 consist, by the decision of O'Levin's guests, in a 
 letter written by Mr. Blenkenstein being put into 
 Faviel's hands. It obviated, in the court's opinion, the 
 necessity of reducing the contest in the last event to a 
 physical struggle. 
 
 " I understand," said Mr. Boke. 
 
 " And you think you can see to it? " 
 
 " Why, sir," said Mr. Boke, who did not see to that 
 happy eventuality at all clearly, " I won't say that the 
 job is a certain one. It isn't. It's a difficult job. If 
 my instructions had been similar in the first place, 
 merely keeping a eye on the gentleman, that is, it 
 might have been easier. He's off the line now." 
 
 " You let him off," said Blenkenstein angrily. " If 
 
 you can't manage to find him, somebody else " he 
 
 checked himself. He did not wish to put Mr. Boke
 
 Mr. Boke on the Trail 101 
 
 against him. " Look here, man, you must do your 
 best. There's no great difficulty." 
 
 " Needles, sir," said Mr. Boke, " in haystacks there's 
 no great difficulty in rinding, providing you know 
 which corner to look in. Tell me the likely corner, and 
 if house-to-house visiting '11 do it, I'll do it." 
 
 Blenkenstein reflected. He was a far shrewder man 
 than any one acquainted only with his heavy manner 
 would have supposed. 
 
 " You don't seem very hopeful about it," he said. 
 " But there's one hint I can give you. If he's to be 
 found anywhere, it'll be within some sort of radius of 
 Sir Jasper Mallendon's house, The Ashlands." 
 
 "You're pretty sure of that, sir?" said Mr. Boke, 
 taking down the address in his notebook. 
 
 " I happen to know," said Blenkenstein, " that he 
 might want to communicate with some one stopping 
 there." 
 
 " Then," said Mr. Boke, " I have no doubts, no 
 doubts at all, that we shall be able to communicate with 
 him." 
 
 Old Mr. Mole was ultimately the means of war- 
 ranting this bold statement, but only after several days 
 spent in such assiduous investigation of out-of-the- 
 way villages, farms, and townlets, within a twelve- 
 mile radius of The Ashlands, that the usual almost 
 imperceptible weakness of Mr. Boke's legs had de- 
 generated into a veritable hobble. 
 
 Mr. Mole was leaning, as was his habit, upon his 
 garden-gate, looking upon the view which it com- 
 manded of Farmer Peats's home-mead and pond, 
 backed by blackthorn and a single elm. Farmer 
 Peats's cows were standing knee-deep in this pond at 
 the moment when the stranger sauntering by stopped
 
 IO2 Mr. Boke on the Trail 
 
 opposite Mr. Mole, and, following the latter's gaze, 
 which appeared to be fixed on the cows, remarked in 
 an enthusiastic voice : 
 
 " Beautiful they look, standing in the water like 
 that." 
 
 It was Mr. Boke's way to open his conversations 
 in a natural and lively manner, calculated to induce a 
 corresponding ease. 
 
 Mr. Mole, who was not easily won over, re- 
 plied : 
 
 "Ah?" 
 
 " I said the cows look nice standing in the water like 
 that." 
 
 Mr. Mole, without shifting his gaze in any way, 
 returned : 
 
 " That's to keep the flies off of 'em." 
 
 " You don't say so," said Mr. Boke, somewhat 
 rebuffed. 
 
 " That's what the cows are stannin' theer for," said 
 Mr. Mole, " to keep the flies off of 'em. Swotty they 
 do feel these warm days, just like me an' you. That's 
 why they go to the water." 
 
 " I didn't know that," said Mr. Boke, apparently 
 impressed. 
 
 Mr. Mole shifted his grip of the gate slightly, and 
 turned his gaze upon this ignoramus. 
 
 " It isn't much you know about cattle then, I 
 dessay," he remarked condescendingly. 
 
 " I don't," said Mr. Boke. " It's not my line. I 
 dare say you know plenty though, eh?" 
 
 " Whoy," said Mr. Mole, " I never warn't a cow- 
 man mysel', but on an' off I've had to do wi' 'em, on 
 an' off as you mid say, for ninety year." 
 
 His age was Mr. Mole's great pride, and Mr. Boke
 
 Mr. Boke on the Trail 103 
 
 almost lost his chance by going on the wrong tack 
 with regard to it. 
 
 " Ninety years ! You don't mean to tell me you're 
 ninety? " 
 
 " Come Michemas," said Mr. Mole proudly. " An' 
 I ain't done yet, what's more. I ain't done yet." 
 
 " You don't look it," said Mr. Boke. " If you asked 
 me, I'd put you down at sixty-five." 
 
 Intended to propitiate Mr. Mole, this compliment 
 failed of its purpose. 
 
 " Ninety year I be, come Michemas and if you're 
 doubting it, ye can go an' ask parson, as can show you 
 it writ in the regingster, how ther' ain't a older man 
 not for miles round." 
 
 Mr. Mole looked so offended, that there was nothing 
 for it but self-humiliation on the part of Mr. Boke. 
 
 " I don't doubt it not for a moment," he said. "I 
 only meant, you know, that you look smarter than 
 many younger men." 
 
 " I ain't a fool," said Mr. Mole sullenly. " I ain't 
 a fool." 
 
 Mr. Boke perceived signs of relenting, and whipped 
 in. 
 
 " That's what I mean. You're smart. You know 
 pretty well what's up. I dare say there's not another 
 man now, in the village, who knows more about what's 
 going on." 
 
 " Reck'n there iddn't," said Mr. Mole modestly. 
 
 " Folks changing," said the wily Boke. " Some 
 going, others coming, eh ? " 
 
 " Not much," said Mr. Mole, inclined to support his 
 reputation now that it was acknowledged. " Ole 
 George Datton, they calls 'im ole, but he iddn't near 
 as ole as me he's gone, died after eatin' o' rasperry
 
 IO4 Mr. Boke on the Trail 
 
 pie, 'is own rasperries what he picked hisself in the 
 mornin', and his granddarter cooked for 'im. Ate 'em 
 for dinner, ole George did, an' a corpse he was afore 
 eight o'clock the same night. Yes, ole George Datton's 
 gone, but I don't reck'n there's nobbudy else." 
 
 " Any one come? " suggested Mr. Boke. 
 
 Mr. Mole shook his head. 
 
 " Iddn't likely as nobbudy 'ud come here. What 'ud 
 they come for? Work? There iddn't enough work, 
 not for them as is here already. Look at my grand- 
 son, Jem Mole, chucked outer his place by some Lun- 
 noner or other what parson picked up on the road." 
 
 " A Londoner ? " said Mr. Boke, pricking up his 
 ears. 
 
 " I'd reck'n that's what he be. I wouldn't trust 'im 
 mysel'. Calls hidself a coachman. Whoy, there he 
 be!" 
 
 The sound of hoofs on the road had been audible 
 for a minute or two, and even as Mr. Mole spoke, the 
 rector's dogcart went by. On the box-seat, only half- 
 disguised by his livery, sat Mr. Faviel. 
 
 " Not further than I could see 'im, I wouldn't trust 
 'im," said Mr. Mole vindictively, and was disappointed 
 to see that the stranger, who had struck him as a 
 pleasant kind of gossip, was walking down the road. 
 
 Mr. Boke sent off news of his discovery to London 
 that same afternoon, and it was the reply letter which 
 he received from Blenkenstein that caused him to go 
 off the next 'day, and rent, for the period of three 
 months, " The Windmill," Hanging Coppice, under the 
 name of Captain Bunbury. 
 
 Mr. Boke had struck the Mill in the course of his 
 wanderings, and it seemed just the place for a man 
 who hopes to get " some small cottage, handy, where
 
 Mr. Boke on the Trail 105 
 
 you can keep watch without being noticeable," as Blen- 
 kenstein advised. A mill was just the place, moreover, 
 that would take the fancy of a retired seafaring cap- 
 tain, who would employ a couple of his old hands, 
 Bilks and Coppenwell, to run it for him. Captain Bun- 
 bury, it must be remembered, had been established in 
 his new lodgings for some days, on the afternoon when 
 Etta went out riding her bicycle, and seeing him stand- 
 ing about took him for a butler. 
 
 He had received further instructions from his em- 
 ployer only that morning, instructions the nature of 
 which will be revealed in their proper place. 
 
 Meanwhile, he was keeping watch.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 ANOTHER MOTOR-CAR ACCIDENT 
 
 " I THINK," said Miss Faviel, " that, thanks to you, 
 Mr. Wilton, I may consider myself comfortably settled 
 for the night or two that I intend to stop. I dare say 
 Monarch will not sleep well. He rarely does away 
 from home. But the drive down has done him won- 
 ders." 
 
 " Then I'd better be off," said Tod. 
 
 If any one had told him two days ago that in two 
 days he would be standing with Miss Faviel and Mon- 
 arch in the chief room of the " Sow and Pigs," Way- 
 bury's principal inn, having driven them down previ- 
 ously in a hired motor-car, he would have utterly dis- 
 credited the statement. Yet the reasons which had 
 brought him to it were not so very complex. Even 
 before Miss Faviel descended upon him in Dick's 
 rooms with the announcement that she was going to 
 call on the Mallendons, with a view to gathering any 
 information that might throw light upon her nephew's 
 mysterious disappearance with the request, more- 
 over, that Mr. Wilton would procure her a chauffeur 
 and a motor-car, as she intended to drive down, and 
 put up at the inn nearest to The Ashlands Tod had 
 been pondering as to what he ought to do in Faviel's 
 interests. The news of Blenkenstein's engagement, 
 or provisional engagement, had caused Mr. Wilton to 
 wonder if he ought not to try and communicate with 
 
 106
 
 Another Motor-Car Accident 107 
 
 Faviel. The horrible sense of fiasco arising from the 
 interview with Miss Mallendon had caused Mr. Wilton 
 to feel that some sort of communication was a vital 
 necessity. Only, how was he to do his duty? Dick 
 had disappeared, nobody knew where. An agony ad- 
 vertisement in the " Morning Post " occurred to Tod 
 as a possible solution, but he was not of a literary turn, 
 and the difficulties of conveying the truth in a suitable 
 disguise, seemed to him, after a couple of hours spent 
 with a fountain pen and many sheets of notepaper, 
 insuperable. If he asked Dick to meet him, Blenken- 
 stein would probably read it, and not Dick. Or they 
 both would, and Tod, having already ruined Dick's 
 affairs with Miss Mallendon, would precipitate him 
 bodily into the hands of the enemy. 
 
 Miss Faviel's advent, full of purpose, suggested to 
 Tod the only conceivable way of beginning to approach 
 the object he had in view. Dick had persisted in giving 
 him no inkling of the probable route of his disappear- 
 ance, on the ground that he was going to vanish at 
 random, and as the mood took him. But it occurred 
 to Tod now, as it had occurred to Blenkenstein before, 
 that that mood might take him at one time or another 
 into the neighborhood of The Ashlands. The idea 
 came naturally enough to Blenkenstein, seeing it was 
 to prevent this very happening that he had worked up 
 the wager. To Tod, it came in a flash of inspiration, 
 upon which, not being used to flashes of inspiration, 
 he at once began to cast doubts. If there was one 
 thing more certain than another, it was that Dick 
 would not do the thing expected of him. But then, he, 
 Tod, had not expected him to make his hiding-place 
 near The Ashlands. He only suggested it to himself, 
 probably quite wrongly.
 
 io8 Another Motor-Car Accident 
 
 In the end, however, it seemed obvious that what- 
 ever might be the value of the inspiration, it was the 
 only thing that offered an activity-compelling solution 
 of the puzzle. Activity was what Mr. Wilton longed 
 for. 
 
 The next morning, having discovered over his break- 
 fast that Haleden Hoo was on the main line, from 
 which a branch led to, among other places, Waybury, 
 only six miles from The Ashlands, a discovery which 
 seemed to confirm the inspiration of the previous night, 
 Tod, having thought the plan well over half a dozen 
 times at least, offered himself as chauffeur to Miss 
 Faviel. This was on a Tuesday. Miss Faviel ac- 
 cepted with pleasure. On Wednesday, shortly before 
 Miss Etta Warley went out for her ride, Mr. Wilton 
 was bidding good-by to Miss Faviel, not without some 
 misgivings as to her future proceedings. 
 
 " I hope Monarch will sleep," he said, lingering. 
 
 " He may," said Miss Faviel, " if the landlady 
 doesn't worry him too much." 
 
 The landlady, while welcoming Miss Faviel, had 
 been a little doubtful of Monarch, as a resident of her 
 best parlor, which contained, amongst other treasures, 
 a stuffed seagull and some vases brought from a place 
 called China by her husband's brother who was a 
 sailor. She was afraid that Monarch might injure 
 these. 
 
 " Never a dog," as she said, " haven't step inside 
 the parlor since that there sea bird and them pots was 
 put up. And speaking in general, ma'am, I don't hold 
 with dogs, not in people's best rooms. But if as you 
 say he's a quiet one ? " 
 
 " Entirely," said Miss Faviel. 
 
 " Well, he do look it," said the landlady. " And
 
 Another Motor-Car Accident 109 
 
 being stout for his size, which is more, if you'll pardon 
 me, ma'am, for saying it, that of a hedge-pig than any 
 dog I've ever seen before, maybe he isn't much of a 
 lepper." 
 
 Miss Faviel had assured her that Monarch's bound- 
 ing capacity was small, and the landlady had beaten 
 a retreat before Monarch's tinkling growl. 
 
 " I hardly think she will worry him much," said 
 Mr. Wilton, smiling at the recollection. " Well, then, 
 good-by. And you will let me know if you find out 
 anything, or if I can be of any use." 
 
 Miss Faviel promised. 
 
 " There is only one thing," she added, as Tod took 
 up his hat to go. " It seems to me that I ought to 
 seize every opportunity I can, and I think, conse- 
 quently, of acquainting the local constable with an 
 outline of Richard's case. If by any chance Richard 
 should have come into these parts, and of course he 
 might be anywhere, the man might hear of it. Coun- 
 try policemen are often highly intelligent men. Our 
 own man, Muttle, at home, knows every one by sight 
 for miles round. What I was going to say was this : 
 would you do me the further favor of leaving a mes- 
 sage at the local constabulary on your way, asking 
 him to come up and have a chat with me ? " 
 
 Tod undertook the message, and, having found the 
 honeysuckle-covered cottage in which Mr. Bigstock 
 lived for a warning to all evil-doers, delivered Miss 
 Faviel's request to Mrs. Bigstock, a bonny woman 
 cumbered with many little Bigstocks. Mr. Bigstock 
 himself was out on his rounds. 
 
 Mrs. Bigstock promised that her husband should 
 call at the " Sow and Pigs " as soon as he returned. 
 
 Then Mr. Wilton, with no particular object in his
 
 no Another Motor-Car Accident 
 
 mind except that of somehow finding Faviel and 
 warning him of the plots and counterplots that were 
 being woven against him, set his car spinning along 
 that very high road upon which sixteen days before a 
 car had caused Sir Gawain to run away with Mr. 
 Warley and his daughter. 
 
 Chance, and nothing else, ordained that Miss Etta 
 Warley, miserably bicycling with still less purpose in 
 her mind, should have turned into this very road. One 
 might, of course, go behind chance and say that, sub- 
 consciously and in spite of her feeling that nothing 
 mattered very much, Etta had selected this road as 
 being a smooth one with a good deal of shade to it. 
 
 These things do matter when one is on a bicycle in 
 the heat of the afternoon, even though one's wretched- 
 ness is apparently complete. 
 
 Could she indeed have conceived a passion for a 
 man whose ideal was to be a butler ? Could a man for 
 whom she might have conceived a hint of a passion 
 really possess no higher ideal than that of butlering in 
 a big house? If so, life was indeed, as her father 
 often said (in his sermons), no better than a vale of 
 tears, and Etta could feel them coming. 
 
 In a little while, disappointment tinged with maiden 
 shame did actually bring them, after which, embold- 
 ened by the relief which tears paradoxically bring 
 with them, Etta fought them back. 
 
 Life no doubt was a vale of tears, but at least she 
 would not be so weak as to weep over such a thing as 
 this. It was a mistake she had made, that was all. 
 Higginson was but a flunkey, whom she had most fool- 
 ishly endowed with romantic attributes. A wretched 
 mistake, but she could remedy it. A single life, passed 
 in devotion to others, was not without its charms
 
 Another Motor-Car Accident in 
 
 would not be without its rewards. The villagers of 
 Langston Bucket would learn to bless her name. They 
 were not as a rule very grateful for assistance, but 
 she would compel them to love her. Some day, when 
 a fatal illness, caught in going her charitable rounds 
 on evenings when a plowman would scarcely venture 
 out, had stricken her down, they would come about 
 the rectory with downcast faces and wet kerchiefs to 
 learn the latest news of her, to hear if the vital spark 
 was still alight. 
 
 Already this pathetic prospect made her feel better, 
 and lest her heroism should depart from her, she 
 increased the speed of her pedaling. Speed was 
 lovely. She gained an immense impetus before com- 
 ing to the next hill down, and then free-wheeled. 
 Free-wheeling, she was almost fancy-free. Free- 
 wheeling, she turned a corner with delicious thrills, 
 and then, with a sinking sensation, saw a motor dash- 
 ing towards her. Ever since the accident with Sir 
 Gawain, Etta had had a nervous feeling at sight of a 
 motor. 
 
 She wobbled. 
 
 Mr. Wilton drew up in a trice, to find a pale but 
 lovely maiden lying with closed eyes in a bunch of 
 grass at the side of the road. He was afraid that he 
 had killed her.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 MR. WILTON AS SIR LANCELOT 
 
 " You really think you can? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Etta, smiling. " Really." 
 
 " You are brave," said Mr. Wilton. 
 
 Etta smiled again. He was not quite like Sir 
 Lancelot, not nearly so much so as Higginson was, 
 being too broad and just a little short. He had not 
 the clear-cut features of Higginson, or rather of Sir 
 Lancelot, and his hair was so short and bristly. So 
 was his mustache which covered a big a nice big 
 mouth. Moreover, he had not that calm self-posses- 
 sion and loftiness of mien which distinguished Sir 
 Lancelot (according to tradition) and which did, with- 
 out doubt, distinguish Higginson at the present time. 
 
 But then, on the other hand, it was rather nice to 
 have some one really humanely disturbed and anxious 
 about one, when one had had an accident. Not that 
 Mr. Wilton's perturbation contributed towards his 
 doing the right thing from a practical point of view. 
 He had leapt down in the most frantic haste and knelt 
 beside her, calling himself all sorts of names. Then 
 when she had opened her eyes with a faint shiver, he 
 had rushed back to his car, and got out a spanner and 
 an oil can. Had Etta positively been in a swoon, he 
 would probably have succeeded in pouring some of the 
 contents of the latter down her throat. He tried to. 
 What he intended to do with the spanner, Etta didn't 
 
 112
 
 Mr. Wilton as Sir Lancelot 113 
 
 know even now, and she was quite sure he didn't. In 
 the end he had remembered a brandy flask and 
 brought it to her, after endless routings in the body 
 of the car and applications of all manner of fresh 
 names to himself for not having thought of it before. 
 
 Higginson no doubt would have thought of it in the 
 first instance would have been of more use if she had 
 been dreadfully injured or perhaps dying. But as she 
 was not hurt at all, and had only closed her eyes be- 
 cause she was a little faint, and a good deal shaken 
 and frightened and conscious of her own stupidity, it 
 was ineffably pleasanter to have some one at hand like 
 this motorist, so distracted as not to be able to dis- 
 tinguish that it was she who had been stupid and not 
 he. The motorist kept saying that it was all his fault, 
 and that he should never forgive himself, and would 
 she forgive him could she ? 
 
 All this was very agreeable, and when at the end of 
 five minutes Etta maintained that she was quite capa- 
 ble of getting up and going home, and he replied ad- 
 miringly that she was brave, the image of Sir Lance- 
 lot, once her ideal, had become remarkably indistinct. 
 
 " I'm not really brave at all," she said. " If you'd 
 said stupid ! " 
 
 " You couldn't be stupid if you tried," said Mr. 
 Wilton. " I'm stupid if you like, I ought to have seen 
 you coming. And it was very brave of you to throw 
 yourself into the bank like that. Any other girl would 
 have lost her head." 
 
 " I expect I really lost mine," said Etta modestly. 
 " Only I've got it again now, such as it is." 
 
 It was fair and fluffy, above big blue eyes that no 
 poet has properly sung, and a little nose untilted, and 
 a mouth that was a reasonable-sized rosebud. There
 
 U4 Mr. Wilton as Sir Lancelot 
 
 have been maidens like this before. Perhaps, when 
 poets have wearied of singing them, their charm will 
 remain the charm of the healthy and persistent 
 type. 
 
 " And now that I've got it again," Etta continued, 
 " I know that I oughtn't to delay you like this. I dare 
 say you have a long way to go." 
 
 " But I may see you home ? " said Mr. Wilton. 
 
 " I can walk quite well." 
 
 " I could drive you much better. I'd go like a snail. 
 You don't trust me." 
 
 " Oh, but I do." Etta blushed fascinatingly. " I 
 will ride with pleasure. It isn't far." 
 
 "Isn't it? "said Mr. Wilton. 
 
 His appreciation of the shortness of the distance 
 seemed so inconsiderable that Etta blushed again, as 
 she stepped into the car. Her quick fancy was already 
 at work, making pictures. She could see this young 
 man having won her father's affections by his almost 
 filial respect, walking up and down the trim rectory 
 garden, drinking in information from the elder gentle- 
 man concerning dahlias and roses and hot-beds and 
 Virgil's opinion on the same, if any, all for the simple 
 reward of coming at length to the bow-windowed 
 drawing-room, jasmine-twined, with swallows under 
 the eaves. There a certain person would be sitting 
 demurely, her agile fingers at work upon some old 
 piece of tapestry, or its modern substitute, a tea cloth, 
 while her mother sat conning her broidery (the rector's 
 socks) ; half-pleased, half-distressed, but never reveal- 
 ing her maternal solicitude until the hour when the 
 young man, taking the lily maiden (Etta was quite 
 impersonal in these scenes) by the tips of the aforesaid 
 deft fingers, after tender vows exchanged, should lead
 
 Mr. Wilton as Sir Lancelot 115 
 
 her up to demand the maternal blessing. Then each 
 would sink on one knee, and 
 
 " What about your bicycle ? " asked Mr. Wilton, 
 who had been replacing his oil-can and spanner. 
 
 " It doesn't matter. I can send the man to fetch 
 it," said Etta with a start. 
 
 It was singular how wholly Higginson was absent 
 from the pictured future. She could not see him at 
 all, except in his livery with a bouquet in his button- 
 hole waiting with the carriage at the church door, 
 while down the aisle the happy pair 
 
 " Or I could come back for it, if you like," said Mr. 
 Wilton. 
 
 The car throbbed and dipped forward down the 
 blossomy lane, and so, on wings upholstered in olive- 
 green leather, Etta flew homeward. Conversation 
 seemed unnecessary; and was limited on Mr. Wilton's 
 part to an occasional inquiry as to whether she still 
 felt all right, and on her part to an assurance that she 
 did; whereupon his stalwart hands busied themselves 
 anew at increasing or decreasing speed, and the little 
 brass timepiece winked back the shifting mileage. 
 
 It was Etta's first ride in a car; but she felt all a 
 keen motorist's indignation at the recollection of the 
 country talk about cars their smells, their noises, their 
 perils. She could smell nothing but summer, hear 
 nothing but the bees twanging hiveward with their 
 honey, fear nothing but that the rectory would come 
 into view too soon. 
 
 This it did hours and days too soon. There was 
 the white gate between the two stone posts surmounted 
 by the two stone balls, which her mother was always 
 thinking would fall off some fine day when one was 
 driving through and crush somebody. They did not
 
 n6 Mr. Wilton as Sir Lancelot 
 
 fall off as Etta and Mr. Wilton drove through. They 
 remained on, round and inanimate singularly un- 
 aware of what had taken place during the past half- 
 hour. Up the short drive the car sped, and stopped 
 beautifully just outside the porch. 
 
 Next moment Mr. Wilton stood face to face with 
 the rector's groom-gardener, who had come from the 
 stables on hearing the arrival of a visitor. 
 
 "Dick!" 
 
 " What did you say ? " asked Etta, who having 
 started to descend on the off side of the car had only 
 vaguely caught the exclamation. 
 
 Mr. Wilton, with a presence of mind which only 
 Higginson's portentous frown made possible, set the 
 car rattling horribly. 
 
 " Beg pardon, sir? " said Higginson. 
 
 " Nothing," said Mr. Wilton, adding with happy 
 promptitude, " not at all." 
 
 Etta stood looking from one to the other. Had 
 the motorist really spoken to Higginson ? 
 
 " What should you wish done with this here auter, 
 sir?" asked Higginson, with a country coachman's 
 inept expression upon being confronted with one of 
 these machines for the first time. Etta decided she 
 must have made a mistake. 
 
 " Oh, thanks," said Tod Wilton. " I don't want 
 I mustn't stop." 
 
 " But surely you must come in," said Etta. " My 
 mother would like to thank you. Higginson, I had a 
 slight accident with my bicycle, and I want you to go 
 and fetch it. It's on the Waybury road, about a 
 hundred yards from the sign-post to Merley. It's 
 lying in the hedge. Is my mother in? " 
 
 " Yes, miss."
 
 Mr. Wilton as Sir Lancelot 117 
 
 " Please come in here, Mr. ? " 
 
 " Wilton." 
 
 The owner of that name followed Miss Warley 
 through the wide porch into the rectory. Being be- 
 hind, he was enabled to see the gesticulation which 
 Higginson made, as soon as Etta was fairly through 
 into the hall. Quite plainly Higginson conveyed the 
 message : 
 
 " Will meet you on the Waybury road."
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 A LETTER FOR MR. BLENKENSTEIN 
 
 " A LETTER for Mr. Blenkenstein ? " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, my lady." 
 
 " Very well. If you will give it to me, I will take it 
 down with the other letters. So good of you to have 
 come, Mr. Bayford. Just put the parcels down there, 
 Halkett, and I will take the letters. Every one is so 
 busy, everything is in such a muddle. I hope you will 
 excuse it. What do you say ? " 
 
 Lady Mallendon's last words were addressed to the 
 young man with the letter for Mr. Blenkenstein. He 
 and the postman, and the Rev. C. W. Bayford, Rector 
 of Hetchingham, had all arrived at The Ashlands sim- 
 ultaneously, and everything at The Ashlands includ- 
 ing Lady Mallendon was in a great state of confusion 
 owing to the fact that Miss Finch's play was in the 
 first stages of rehearsal. A stage and marquees had 
 been put up on the south lawn, and the head gardener 
 had grumbled ever since. Stage-properties and cos- 
 tumes kept arriving, and getting lost : so did dramatis 
 persona. Jimmy assisted in the general chaos whole- 
 heartedly : Sir Jasper, in a craven way, had fled from 
 the scene with his camera immediately after break- 
 fast. The burden of everything fell upon Lady Mal- 
 lendon, or so she supposed ; and what with introducing 
 everybody to everybody else two or three times over 
 
 us
 
 A Letter for Mr. Blenkenstein 119 
 
 and fetching the letters (under the impression that the 
 servants were all too busy for their ordinary duties), 
 and carrying things about and dropping them, and 
 having to have them wiped up and brushed down, Lady 
 Mallendon certainly was passing her day actively. 
 
 " Begging your pardon, my ladyship," said the 
 young man with the letter for Blenkenstein, " but I'll 
 deliver it personally, if it's the same to you. Orders 
 is that way." 
 
 " Oh, very well," said Lady Mallendon. " Follow 
 me. Mr. Bayford, I know you will pardon me for 
 having kept you so long. Shall we go into the gar- 
 den?" 
 
 " Charmed charmed/' said Mr. Bayford, 
 " charmed." 
 
 " So good of you," said Lady Mallendon, " to say 
 so and to allow Mr. Wormyer to act. But the best of 
 
 these Susan, has the claret-cup been taken out 
 
 yet? It must be done at once. The best of these, I 
 was going to say, Mr. Bayford only, of course, there 
 is no need to remind you of it is charity." 
 
 " Quite so," said Mr. Bayford. " True." 
 
 " Though sometimes," said Lady Mallendon, with 
 a sigh, " I wonder if it is worth it. There is the stage, 
 you see, and Mr. O'Levin stage managing. So won- 
 derfully clever at it he is too; considering that he is 
 really an editor. What is he saying? " 
 
 " I think, my dear lady," said Mr. Bayford, " he was 
 saying ' why not stand on both legs ? ' a technical 
 criticism, I take it. I trust he will keep Wormyer up 
 to the mark." 
 
 " I think he must be criticising Mr. Blenkenstein," 
 said Lady Mallendon. 
 
 That, in effect, was what O'Levin was doing.
 
 I2O A Letter for Mr. Blenkenstein 
 
 " If ye had but one leg, or were playing the part of 
 a heron," he was remarking, " I would not ask ye to 
 alter. Your balance is good, and I'd believe ye if ye 
 said straight out ye could stand on one leg for two 
 hours. Ye've done it, without flinching, for a couple 
 of minutes. But it is a point I wish to impress on all 
 ladies and gentlemen taking part: we must consider 
 our audience, and the dramatic conventions. What 
 would Aristotle say, what would Mr. Walkley say, to 
 see a prince stand upon one leg during a critical love- 
 scene? Does such an action strike pity and fear into 
 the audience, think ye? On the contrary, it encour- 
 ages them to smile. Ah, that's better, Prince ! " 
 
 " I think that's beautiful," said Miss Finch, who 
 was hovering round in a nervous manner. 
 
 " Kindly refrain from buttering up your troupe," 
 said O'Levin. " Tention, Prince ! " 
 
 Blenkenstein, conscious that he looked foolish, 
 smiled a sickly smile. He was not much of an actor, 
 and there was nothing he disliked more than being 
 made a public butt of, even if the reduction of him to 
 that estate was done entirely good-naturedly. But it 
 was occurring to Blenkenstein that as a matter of fact 
 O'Levin was not doing it good-naturedly; that on the 
 contrary he was taking advantage of his position as 
 stage-manager to treat him in a distinctly unsympa- 
 thetic and impudent way. Since O'Levin had come 
 down, he had been markedly ungenial; and Blenken- 
 stein resented the fact. It made him uneasy. Could 
 it mean he asked himself that O'Levin had got 
 wind somehow of his failure to allow Faviel to start 
 in accordance with the terms of the wager? or was 
 it only that he disliked that newspaper business ? Blen- 
 kenstein half regretted that he had told O'Levin of
 
 A Letter for Mr. Blenkenstein 121 
 
 it, or of his partial engagement to Judith Mallendon. 
 It wasn't such a straight and easy matter the engage- 
 ment that he could afford to have O'Levin making a 
 fool of him in Judith's eyes. Her moods were a good 
 deal too various for him already without a humorous 
 one being started at his expense. 
 
 She was smiling now at O'Levin's impudence. The 
 scene was in Act I. of Miss Finch's pastoral drama. 
 Shepherd Flaminka (Blenkenstein), in reality a prince, 
 abandoned in infancy by his parents upon the moors, 
 comes upon the Princess Jurabella, who has strayed 
 from her Court for no apparent reason, and is struck 
 with wonder and admiration of her beauty. Shepherd 
 Flaminka's admiration had, as O'Levin complained, 
 taken the form of standing on one leg, a pose very 
 well in a shepherd, but not suggesting that latent 
 princeliness, which, as Miss Finch said in her preface, 
 it was, together with the beauties of the simpler life, 
 the purpose of the drama to reveal. 
 
 O'Levin would go on expounding this purpose. 
 
 " Ye are to remimber, Shepherd, that the simpler 
 life, milking your goats, fattening your sheep and 
 Aylesbury ducks and chasing the bee to his lair, has 
 but intinsified your inherent nobility. The Princess 
 scorns ye a bit at first owing to your sheep-skins, 
 which, by the way, Clarkson ought to have sent a bit 
 raggeder, seeing that ye have but the one set, and 
 home-made at that." 
 
 " All right," said Blenkenstein sulkily. 
 
 " Well, don't forget it," said O'Levin. " Now, Miss 
 Mallendon, if ye'd have the goodness to scorn the shep- 
 herd for a moment. I thank you." 
 
 Judith threw a glance at the shepherd which made 
 Blenkenstein feel uncomfortable.
 
 122 A Letter for Mr. Blenkenstein 
 
 " Now, Blink," continued O'Levin, " ye proceed. 
 'Vain Maid'!" 
 
 " ' Vain Maid ' ! " began Blenkenstein. 
 
 " Still on two legs ! " 
 
 " Still on " 
 
 " No, no, that's a stage-direction. Miss Warley," 
 said O'Levin, who was enjoying himself thoroughly, 
 " do not smile, I entreat ye. Recollect that a high- 
 class maid, good hair-dresser, clever needle-woman, 
 which ye would be supposed to be, would have a great 
 command of her features. Mince, if ye will: but do 
 not smile ! " 
 
 Miss Etta Warley, who was also enjoying herself, 
 bit her lips obediently. 
 
 " Now, Blink ! Onward, noble shepherd ! " 
 
 "Vain Maid! Not thus the shepherd's glance disdain. 
 Whence come thou art, or from what sphere removed 
 I know not Royal high it well may be. 
 Yet must thou know that he who views thee now 
 Hath watched the eagle, king of birds, whose flight 
 Thine cannot equal, hath won from the bee 
 Honey that lurks not in thy lips." 
 
 Blenkenstein delivered Miss Finch's high-toned 
 lines with a self -consciousness that would have ruined 
 Shakespeare, and the Princess replied flippantly. 
 
 "Good!" said O'Levin, of the latter. "Now, 
 chorus 
 
 ' Come sheep, come shepherds, come every one 
 And dance on the greensward under the sun. 
 
 And dance lively, only try not to injure the green- 
 sward, about which, I understand, Lady Mallendon's 
 gardener is very particular where is the chorus ? "
 
 A Letter for Mr. Blenkenstein 123 
 
 The chorus, which had not been able to turn up 
 in full strength that afternoon, consisted, it was 
 found, of the Hetchingham curate only, Mr. Worm- 
 yer, who would fain have backed out of the shep- 
 herds' dance when he found that he had to do it 
 alone. 
 
 " Courage, Wormyer, courage ! " said Mr. Bayford, 
 who had a paternal way with his curates; and Mr. 
 Wormyer was induced to give an example of his 
 terpsichorean powers. 
 
 " Admirable if ye could make it less of a cake- 
 walk," O'Levin said at the end of this embarrassed 
 performance. 
 
 " A what ! " asked Mr. Wormyer, horror-struck. 
 
 " A cake-walk. It's foreign to the period." 
 
 " I am not aware," said Mr. Wormyer, with dig- 
 nity, " that I have ever seen a cake-walk far less 
 practised it. Therefore, I must confess " 
 
 " It comes natural to ye. Thrue ! It does to some 
 people," said O'Levin. " Mind ye, I'm not complain- 
 ing. Ye did it nately indeed. And now, ladies and 
 gentlemen " he proceeded, to cover an explosion 
 from Etta, and also because Lady Mallendon had 
 gesticulated tea " I think that'll do for to-day. 
 We're getting on, I think." 
 
 " Capitally, capitally ! " said Mr. Bayford, as the 
 proceedings came to an end for the time being. " It 
 has quite smartened Wormyer up. Eh? Ha! I 
 should not be surprised, Wormyer, if you found this 
 do you quite a lot of good. It might even, since any 
 concentrated effort strengthens us all round, give you 
 an ease in composition, Wormyer. I remember, Lady 
 Mallendon," continued Mr. Bayford, who had a habit 
 of connecting as many people as he could with his con-
 
 124 A Letter for Mr. Blenkenstein 
 
 versation, " it is a singular circumstance, but I can 
 vouch for it personally, that when I went in for bowls 
 and pretty assiduously I did so at one time I felt 
 an ease in writing my sermons that astonished me. 
 I recall the Bishop coming over about that time and 
 saying to me, ' The diocese is not without its preacher, 
 Bayford; the diocese is not without its preacher.' 
 Ah well tea, my dear Lady Mallendon ? I am sure 
 that some of us have deserved it have deserved 
 it" 
 
 He joined himself on to O'Levin on the way to the 
 tea-tables which were set out in the garden, and Lady 
 Mallendon called Blenkenstein's attention to the young 
 man who had a letter for him. The young man, who 
 had well-greased hair, a high collar, and that unspeak- 
 ably impudent look which is only achieved to perfec- 
 tion by a born Londoner, had been watching the play 
 critically. 
 
 " A good hactress and a pretty girl, that Miss Mal- 
 lendon," he said confidentially to Blenkenstein, as 
 Lady Mallendon receded. " Don't put yourself out, 
 sir," he added, as Blenkenstein, suspecting who he was 
 from, began to lead him into the house, " it's a letter 
 from Mr. Boke. No immediate hurry. But he'd like 
 an answer. Word of mouth would do." 
 
 He handed Blenkenstein the letter, and the latter 
 still walking towards the house read it. It was brief 
 and pointed. 
 
 " Have seen Mr. F. in same place meet a friend, 
 name unknown. Friend told Mr. F. of your engage- 
 ment in my hearing. I understood that Mr. F. in- 
 tends to arrange a meeting Sunday next with Miss 
 M. of The Ashlands. He has written to her to that
 
 A Letter for Mr. Blenkenstein 125 
 
 effect. Place of meeting unknown. Should be glad 
 to have your instructions." 
 
 Blenkenstein frowned. 
 
 " You know what's in this, I suppose? " he said to 
 the young man. 
 
 " I do," said Mr. Coppenwell blandly. " I may say 
 I advised Mr. Boke to send it." 
 
 " I don't know that you need have come with it," 
 said Blenkenstein. " I don't want any one to know the 
 connection between us, in case they see any of you 
 hanging about. Well, that can't be helped anyway. 
 Tell Mr. Boke from me that it must be stopped. No 
 meeting is to take place. I suppose that's easily man- 
 aged." 
 
 " It won't be nothing to Mr. Boke and me, working 
 together," said Mr. Coppenwell. 
 
 "The mill's ready?" 
 
 " The mill," said Mr. Coppenwell, " is taut an' trim. 
 Pervisions is laid in junk an' sech. Mr. Boke, as a 
 retired and 'centric sea-capting, is known slightly to 
 one or two farmers and a general store. Otherways, 
 we keep pretty quiet, lettin' it be known that our tastes 
 are in that direction. Mr. Boke, as Captain Bunbury, 
 is puttin' up a flag-post, the unfailin' sign of a naval 
 career, in spare minits. We 'ave, however, not many, 
 there bein' a deal o' watchin' for three 'ands. There's 
 a feller named Bilks with us." 
 
 " Well," said Blenkenstein, who took no great in- 
 terest in these details, and disliked the young man's 
 presence, " that's all I want to know. And you needn't 
 show yourself about here, mind, unless there's an abso- 
 lute necessity." 
 
 He hoped that no one had noticed Mr. Boke's agent
 
 126 A Letter for Mr. Blenkenstein 
 
 already. There was something about Mr. Coppenwell 
 that made even the most passing acquaintance with 
 him of dubious advantage to a man who wished to be 
 above suspicion. Blenkenstein was glad to see him 
 marching down the drive in front of the house with 
 nobody else in view.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 DOUBTS IN A ROSE-BOWER 
 
 THE post that Lady Mallendon was distributing 
 while Blenkenstein interviewed " that curious-looking 
 young man " (as Lady Mallendon called Mr. Coppen- 
 well, thus succeeding in drawing several people's at- 
 tention to him at a blow, so to speak), contained for 
 Judith the very letter to which Mr. Boke in his com- 
 munication had referred. 
 
 Not recognizing the handwriting, Judith had slipped 
 it into her pocket for the time being, and it was only 
 after the temporary guests had driven or walked off, 
 and when she had retired to her favorite seat in the 
 garden an arbored seat overrun with the evergreen, 
 and now snow-laden boughs of the " Felicity " rose 
 that she remembered it and took it out. 
 
 She was a red rose among the white when she had 
 read it a shorter script even than Mr. Boke's, and 
 simply addressed to Miss Judith Mallendon. It ran : 
 
 " I must see you on Sunday next, some time in the 
 afternoon. I do not know where as yet, but will send 
 you a line to tell you. Please do not let any one know 
 that I shall be in the neighborhood of The Ashlands 
 on that day. 
 
 " R. F." 
 
 That was all, but Judith read it a score of times, and 
 it raised in her a hundred moods. A few days ago, if 
 
 127
 
 128 Doubts in a Rose-Bower 
 
 she had got it, on her return from that hateful visit 
 to Mr. Wilton, she would have torn it into bits a 
 thousand bits and put her heel on them, and smiled 
 superbly as she did it. But to youth, so keen to deter- 
 mine and so quick to change a determination, a few 
 days ago may be as much as a few months ago, or 
 as a few years ago, in the counter-influences they can 
 bring to bear upon the mind. Judith had come back 
 from that visit intransigeant, merciless, as far as Mr. 
 Faviel was concerned. Never again, she had said to 
 herself, should a maidenly weakness put her in so 
 miserable a position, never again. Recognizing, even 
 while she made that internal vow, that maidens are 
 apt to be weak (for Judith was in no way self-con- 
 ceited), she had welcomed, or at any rate she had said 
 to herself that she had welcomed, Mr. Blenkenstein's 
 proposal. 
 
 He had proposed that night, on a hint from Lady 
 Mallendon. Why Judith had not accepted him out- 
 right, she could not have told herself. No thought of 
 Mr. Faviel deterred her. Such a thought would have 
 spurred her on. Mr. Blenkenstein had been very nice, 
 too, in his way of proposing; at least, she supposed it 
 was very nice, she was sure it was. Only something, 
 the about-to-be-caged feeling that is the test of doubt- 
 ful love, had deterred her. She had said that she ad- 
 mired him greatly, that she liked him, that she was 
 uplifted by his offer, but she thought it her duty to 
 make sure that she liked him as much as a girl should 
 like her future husband. It had sounded rather com- 
 monplace to her, but then one has to fit commonplace 
 words to commonplace acts. It is a commonplace act 
 to go halfway with a man. Mr. Blenkenstein had not 
 seemed to mind very much. Perhaps what he did
 
 Doubts in a Rose-Bower 129 
 
 hear was rather more favorable than what he had 
 expected to hear, though Judith could not have guessed 
 it. The truth is, her words sounded far more favora- 
 ble than anything he had expected. He had never 
 been intimate with English girls of her class, or indeed 
 of any class; and though he had attained a certain 
 bluff ease of manner in society, he had the outsider's 
 conviction that it was something far more ceremonial 
 and stiff than it ever is. He had not in the least ex- 
 pected Judith to jump at him. He would not have 
 wanted her to jump at him. Though he would have 
 been quite ready to explain to business friends that 
 Lady Mallendon's niece had been delighted to get hold 
 of him, and the old lady not less so, he was not at all 
 desirous of being jumped at. He wanted fastidious- 
 ness and exclusiveness in his wife, and was prepared 
 to pay for it and for a time, at any rate to put up 
 with it, even if it was applied to himself, though later 
 on he would see that it was applied only to other peo- 
 ple. For a preliminary then, Judith's attitude seemed 
 to be all that he could have hoped for, even supposing 
 she had never had a thought for Faviel. Here she 
 was saying that she liked him she would like 
 to see more of him, she was glad that he would 
 accept Lady Mallendon's invitation to The Ash- 
 lands, as that would enable her to see more of him. 
 In a fortnight she would say definitely if she felt that 
 she could marry him. She had asked for a month, 
 and Blenkenstein, with a warmth that came in reality 
 from his consciousness of the period over which the 
 wager lasted, but seemed genuine fervor to her, man- 
 aged to bring it down to a fortnight. She would not 
 consent to less. 
 
 Now there was a letter in her hand which threatened
 
 130 Doubts in a Rose-Bower 
 
 to make havoc of all her prudence, of all her happy, 
 her measuredly happy expectations. Mr. Faviel must 
 see her! Must! The imperative charmed and armed 
 her alternately. She felt he had no right to speak with 
 authority, and that he had the right of having spoken 
 with it. She wondered if men of the kind she had 
 concluded him to be would dare to write like that ; and 
 since he had written like that, she wondered if he 
 could be that kind of man. 
 
 Had she done him injustice, come to her conclusions 
 unfairly? When she looked forward, a thousand pos- 
 sibilities of her being wrong revealed themselves; 
 when she looked back, the possibilities faded. Oh, if 
 she had never been to see Mr. Wilton ! 
 
 But should she go to meet Mr. Faviel? The ques- 
 tion had to be decided, not now, at once, but before 
 Sunday, and to-day was Thursday. She wished that 
 she could consult some one. She wanted to know if 
 in any case she was not bound, in honor to Mr. Blen- 
 kenstein, to refrain from going. Supposing that Mr. 
 Faviel was a perfectly honorable man, had she not, by 
 her unjust haste, condemned herself to see him no 
 more ? She almost thought she had, and then it struck 
 her that in that event she had also condemned Mr. 
 Faviel not to see her. Was the honorable also the 
 fair and just thing? It hardly seemed fair to Mr. 
 Faviel. 
 
 It was no good to ask Lady Mallendon, even 
 vaguely, for Judith would have felt bound by the terms 
 of the letter not to reveal the exact circumstances. Sir 
 Jasper would only hem and haw. What about Jimmy ? 
 Jimmy liked Mr. Faviel, and he did not like Mr. 
 Blenkenstein. But then he had a very equitable mind. 
 Jimmy was distinctly a sportsman.
 
 Doubts in a Rose-Bower 131 
 
 The idea of consulting Jimmy took such command- 
 ing shape in Judith's mind that in the end she rose 
 to go in search of him. As she went, she saw Blen- 
 kenstein across the rose garden, coming, she could not 
 doubt, to look for her. For a moment Judith hesi- 
 tated. Then she slipped behind a hedge of " Crimson 
 Rambler " and went towards the house. 
 
 She came upon Jimmy in the hall, and Jimmy, it 
 seemed, had news for her. 
 
 " Who do you think has come over ? " he asked 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " Guess," said Jimmy. 
 
 " How can I ? " she asked languidly. Dozens of 
 people might have come over, in none of whom she 
 could take at present the smallest interest. 
 
 " Some one," Jimmy persisted, " related to some- 
 body about whom you used to be rather keen before 
 B. B. turned up " (B. B. stood for " Bounding Blen- 
 kenstein," a phrase Judith had strictly interdicted 
 and Jimmy had accordingly curtailed). " Smoked! " 
 Jimmy added triumphantly, as the scarlet came to her 
 cheeks. She forgot to reprimand him for his use of 
 the offensive abbreviation. 
 
 " Tell me, Jimmy, who is it? " 
 
 " An aunt of Mr. Faviel's. Jolly old lady. 
 Duchessy, with a topping little dog like a toad. It 
 went for James' legs like a shot when he opened the 
 door. She's driven over from Waybury to cross- 
 examine Sir J. about Mr. Faviel. I expect she fancies 
 we've got him hidden up our sleeves somewhere. Ma- 
 ter's in the drawing-room with them, telling her she 
 loved Mr. Faviel like a son, I expect. Bottles of tears, 
 and Sir J. running round with a hanky. Hullo ! she's 
 coming out; there's the little dog."
 
 132 Doubts in a Rose-Bower 
 
 Judith had no time to beat a retreat. As Jimmy 
 said, there was the little dog, standing on tight legs 
 regarding them suspiciously, and Sir Jasper was hold- 
 ing the door to his wife and Miss Faviel. 
 
 " I am so distressed," Lady Mallendon was saying, 
 " that we cannot throw any light on it. Mr. Faviel 
 was such a friend of ours so delightful the very 
 last young man, one would have thought, to have van- 
 ished so mysteriously." 
 
 " Well, I don't know," said Miss Faviel, " it's rather 
 a habit of my family to do queer things, which 
 wouldn't occur to other people, and that is why I can't 
 help thinking Richard will turn up. It's very good of 
 you to have taken so much trouble, much more than 
 Richard deserves, and I hope I haven't wasted your 
 time unpardonably. Monarch! what are you doing? 
 Your son and daughter, Lady Mallendon ? " 
 
 Lady Mallendon frowned slightly through the tears, 
 which, as Jimmy had prophesied, had been the result 
 of the interview. She wished Judith had not hap- 
 pened to be there. It was no good raking up past 
 memories. 
 
 " My son, and my niece Judith." 
 
 Miss Faviel stopped opposite the latter. She was a 
 little taller than Judith. 
 
 " My dear," she said, with a familiarity that was 
 yet, somehow, gracious and dignified, " you are a very 
 beautiful girl. Did my nephew, Richard Faviel, know 
 you?" 
 
 " Yes," said Judith. The pink was coming again 
 into her cheeks. 
 
 Miss Faviel nodded. 
 
 " It is quite impossible," she said, speaking, it 
 seemed, more to herself than to any one else, " that
 
 Doubts in a Rose-Bower 133 
 
 Richard should have run away with a German actress. 
 I see Monarch is making friends with you, Mr. Mal- 
 lendon." 
 
 Jimmy repeated afterwards that Monarch was a 
 topping little dog, and Miss Faviel a jolly old lady.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 MR. WARLEY SETS OUT TO BUY A WARDROBE 
 
 IT was on Thursday that Judith received Faviel's 
 letter, and that Miss Faviel called at The Ashlands. 
 It was for Sunday that Faviel had appointed the 
 meeting. 
 
 On Friday, between these two dates, Faviel might 
 have been seen, and, as will be shown afterwards, was 
 seen, driving Mr. Warley into Waybury in the dogcart. 
 
 If he could have got out of that drive, Faviel would 
 have done so. All the way there he wished he had 
 taken advantage of his opportunities the night before 
 to disappear anew. He had spent the night before 
 Thursday night, that is to say in exploring the neigh- 
 borhood of The Ashlands, for the purpose of finding 
 a spot that would do for his tryst with Judith, and 
 he had fixed on a certain glade in the woods surround- 
 ing the house as being accessible enough for Judith, 
 and sufficiently sequestered for his own safety. Re- 
 turning to his room over the stables before sunrise, 
 after having done something like a twenty-mile tramp, 
 he wrote off his note and retired to sleep. 
 
 It was when he woke and found that the rector was 
 bound for Waybury in order to purchase a wardrobe 
 for some invalid cousin who had recently decided to 
 take a cottage in the neighborhood that Faviel wished 
 he had stopped away. Tod Wilton had informed him 
 of his aunt's advent at that little country town; and 
 
 134
 
 Mr. Warley Sets out to Buy a Wardrobe 135 
 
 though Tod had expressed the belief that she was only 
 stopping there for a night or two at the outside 
 which would mean that she had left yesterday Faviel 
 knew enough of his relation to be aware that she 
 might very well still be there. If the air suited Mon- 
 arch, or if Monarch had not slept well enough to bear 
 the return journey, Monarch would abide, and Miss 
 Faviel would abide with him. 
 
 Certainly he was a fool to have returned to the 
 rector's service after his night out. 
 
 Had Faviel known that Mr. Boke had espied him 
 returning in the early morning, that moreover Mr. 
 Boke, alarmed by this unaccountable night expedition, 
 and already on the lookout to put Blenkenstein's orders 
 into execution, had decided that he must not again 
 risk letting his quarry out of his sight until his capture 
 had been effected and that the capture must be ef- 
 fected at the earliest opportunity had Faviel known 
 these things, he would have been still more uneasy at 
 entering Waybury that morning. 
 
 It was a smoking hot day one of those days when 
 distances are wrapped in mist, and nearer things be- 
 come animate in a dancing blue light. All along the 
 road the hedges had been white with dust, and where 
 the sun striking down through tree-boughs, checkered 
 the ground, the white squares had been singularly 
 large, and the black bars thin and small. The little 
 old-fashioned town itself, never at any time bustling, 
 was drowsy to the last degree, and scarcely a soul was 
 visible, as Dick drove Sir Gawain, wet-shouldered and 
 irritable, down the High Street to the shop where Mr. 
 Warley wished to make his purchase. 
 
 " I dare say I shall be some few minutes," said Mr. 
 Warley, getting down.
 
 136 Mr. Warley Sets out to Buy a Wardrobe 
 
 " Yessir," returned Faviel, restraining his desire to 
 implore Mr. Warley to hurry, with the greatest dif- 
 ficulty. 
 
 As often happens, the anxiety which he had been 
 able to subdue while in motion came bubbling up the 
 instant immobility was forced upon him. It exag- 
 gerated sources of peril, almost invented them. The 
 town, which had seemed so quiet as he drove through, 
 began to waken as if by magic. There had been no 
 one about, and now an assistant in bare sleeves had 
 come out of the fruiterer's shop opposite and was 
 staring at him. A fruiterer's assistant did not matter, 
 nor the two small boys who had begun squabbling 
 about their marbles a little way off. But here were 
 two women coming towards him not his aunt, thank 
 heaven a nurse-girl and a child, then a man, who 
 looked like some retired shopkeeper and had nothing to 
 do confound him but look about him. 
 
 Perched on his box-seat a sight for everybody who 
 chose to look at him Mr. Faviel grew as restless as 
 Sir Gawain, who kept pawing and snorting as the 
 patch of shade in which he stood diminished. Would 
 Mr. Warley never come out? The High Street was 
 becoming quite crowded in the eyes of one who would 
 have had it as empty as a moor. 
 
 Suddenly Faviel froze. A small stout dog had run 
 up from behind and began yapping at Sir Gawain. 
 
 " Monarch ! " said a voice, " Mon " 
 
 The sudden cessation of Miss Faviel's voice was 
 unmistakable. She had recognized her nephew. 
 
 Faviel, his face set straight ahead with an air of 
 lunatic intensity, was conscious that she had stopped 
 on the pavement beside him, was looking at him. 
 
 " Richard ! " said Miss Faviel suddenly.
 
 Mr. Warley Sets out to Buy a Wardrobe 137 
 
 There was no response. The groom on the box-seat 
 still looked straight ahead of him. 
 
 " Richard ! " repeated Miss Faviel. 
 
 " Eh what? Speakin' to me, mum? " Faviel con- 
 fronted her in a sudden desperation, and spoke in the 
 chokiest dialect. 
 
 " Aren't you Never mind," said Miss Faviel. 
 
 Scarcely believing his eyes, Faviel saw his aunt 
 hurrying past him along the street. Could he have 
 deceived her by his accent ? It hardly seemed possible, 
 and yet there she was marching ahead so fast that 
 Monarch's tongue went out to help him to keep pace. 
 
 As a matter of fact Miss Faviel, in no whit shaken 
 in her conviction as to this being her nephew, was 
 proceeding to put into execution a plan which for the 
 rapidity of its conception would have done credit to 
 Faviel himself. He must be off his head she con- 
 cluded at any rate to the extent of having lost his 
 memory, as Lady Mallendon, who had stuck to that 
 theory of Jimmy's, had suggested to her yesterday. 
 Consequently, he was not responsible for his actions. 
 She could not very well haul him out of the dogcart 
 alone and unaided; but Mr. Bigstock's honeysuckled 
 cottage was only a couple of minutes' walk away. She 
 was knocking on the door of it before a glimmering of 
 her possible intentions came to Faviel. Having been 
 in Waybury several times already, he knew that the 
 local constabulary inhabited that dwelling, when not on 
 duty. 
 
 The next moment and before Miss Faviel's knock- 
 ing had been answered he was in Mr. Green's second- 
 hand furniture shop. His first impulse had been to 
 drive off in the opposite direction at full speed, but 
 that would lead to a hue and cry. If he could get the
 
 138 Mr. Warley Sets out to Buy a Wardrobe 
 
 rector to come with him, on any excuse, it would be 
 better. . . . 
 
 " If you please, sir," he began, " the horse is chafing 
 to that extent that " 
 
 Luck, or a semblance of it, was with him once again. 
 He was still in the middle of his sentence, when a 
 clatter of hoofs, followed by cries and shouts, indi- 
 cated that Sir Gawain had chafed more than he knew. 
 Through the glass-panel door, with a sideways glance, 
 Faviel saw that Sir Gawain was indeed in full career 
 down the High Street. 
 
 " That he's bolted, sir." 
 
 " Good heavens ! " said the Rev. Warley, and, barely 
 stopping to adjust his eyeglasses, dashed from the 
 shop, followed by the old proprietor, Mr. Green. It 
 was not every day that something happened in 
 Waybury. 
 
 Faviel had the shop to himself. But the horse that 
 was to have borne him off from discovery was gone, 
 irrevocably so far as he was concerned, for there was 
 no question that when it returned, if ever, he must be 
 gone or found out. What was to be done ? He went 
 to the door warily and peeped out. Half Waybury 
 was in pursuit of the runaway; the other half was 
 talking loudly at doors and windows and in the middle 
 of the road, prophesying disasters, or accounting for 
 them. In any case, there was no hope of his being 
 able to escape by the High Street, even were it not 
 that down that same High Street, coming towards him, 
 and not a hundred yards away, were his aunt and a 
 burly police-constable. 
 
 On the most favorable calculation, then, he had 
 about three minutes in which to effect his deliverance. 
 He hurriedly cast about him.
 
 Mr. Warley Sets out to Buy a Wardrobe 139 
 
 The shop was the front room, low and large, of an 
 old house. There was nothing so modern in it even 
 as a counter; and the idea of arranging it to attract 
 customers had never, apparently, so much as entered 
 its proprietor's head. His plan was the simple one of 
 placing goods as they arrived in whatever space was 
 vacant, and leaving them there until some enterprising 
 purchaser demanded their removal. Very little space 
 was vacant now. 
 
 A pair of grandfather clocks stood pointing to 
 diverse hours, the most obvious perpendiculars in a 
 heap composed of battered baths, towel-horses, spring 
 bedsteads and straw mattresses. On a Chippendale 
 card-table were piled articles so different as a pair of 
 waders, a Chinese heron in bronze and a cracked 
 earthenware washing basin; while a second-hand hen- 
 coop was filled with quaint china and odd books alter- 
 nately. The bulkier things were in the background; 
 bow-chests shouldering kitchen tables, laden with ket- 
 tles and warming-pans; a hutch or two with broken 
 carvings, and wardrobes of various sizes and ages, 
 including that wardrobe which Mr. Warley had been 
 in the act of purchasing. 
 
 This caught Faviel's eye as being the largest in the 
 shop : capable of concealing, in the last resort, two or 
 three persons in either of its capacious wings. For a 
 moment he thought of trying it himself, but such con- 
 cealment, being too much in the way of a negative 
 escape at the best rather than a positive (for he could 
 not guess what was in the end to happen), he sup- 
 pressed the inclination to risk it, and stepped hastily 
 towards the door leading from the shop into the in- 
 terior of the house. 
 
 His knowledge of such houses as this was nil, but it
 
 140 Mr. Warley Sets out to Buy a Wardrobe 
 
 seemed to him not unlikely that there was a way out 
 at the back, giving perhaps on to some other street. 
 
 Whether this was so or not, he was never destined 
 to find out, for no sooner had he stepped into the 
 passage behind the door when an old woman, of a 
 frowsy and ill-tempered appearance, who was in fact 
 no other than Mrs. Green, wife of the proprietor, rose 
 up out of the dim light and barred his way. 
 
 " This ain't the shop, young man," she said severely. 
 
 " Oh, isn't it ? " said Faviel, taken aback. 
 
 " No, it ain't and if it's Mr. Green you're after, 
 and he ain't in the shop now, he's as likely as not 
 round to the ' Sow and Pigs,' which 'e often is. So 
 what I says is, you'd best go an' find 'im, for I don't 
 know nothing about the things myself, nor if I did 
 would Mr. Green, which is my husband, keer for me 
 to meddle with them." 
 
 Faviel, backing away before this mingling of 
 information, had the door banged in his face. He was 
 once more in the shop alone, with a minute only now 
 for concealment. With a painful consciousness that 
 he had no other choice, he crept past the barrier of 
 littered furniture, and entered one of the wings of the 
 big wardrobe. There was no key on the outside, but 
 it closed with a catch. 
 
 The man whom Faviel had conceived to be some 
 retired shopkeeper with nothing to do, to whom, ap- 
 parently, the incident of the runaway horse had been 
 so unimportant that he had up to this moment kept 
 his face pressed against Mr. Green's not over clean 
 shop window without once removing it, glanced up as 
 Miss Faviel, accompanied by Mr. Bigstock, entered the 
 shop, as if doubtful whether to follow them in or not. 
 He decided in the end to remain where he was, within
 
 Mr. Warley Sets out to Buy a Wardrobe 141 
 
 hearing, but not close enough to be connected with 
 anything that might have gone, or now be going, on 
 in the shop. 
 
 " I don't go to see any gentleman here," he could 
 hear the big constable remark, in a discouraging way, 
 to his lady companion. 
 
 " I am almost sure he came in," said Miss Faviel. 
 
 " There aren't no tracks," said Mr. Bigstock, as 
 though a spoor would certainly have met the eye, if 
 Miss Faviel were right in her conjecture. " I expect 
 he come out again, surely." 
 
 " Don't you think," said Miss Faviel, " that he might 
 have tried to get out that way ? " She pointed to the 
 door through which her nephew had as a matter of 
 fact penetrated, only to be driven back. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Bigstock, " I hardly know as 
 he'd have done that. It's privit, ye see, that door is. 
 Goes into old Mrs. Green's parley, that door does, and 
 it ain't intended like for customers. But I tell 'ee what, 
 miss, we can make sure of that, ma'am, by asking old 
 Mrs. Green if she's seen him. Mrs. Green, hi ! " 
 
 Mr. Bigstock's stentorian call, politely directed 
 through the half-opened door, had the desired effect of 
 bringing Mrs. Green forth. 
 
 " If you was wanting Mr. Green, and he ain't in 
 the shop, he's as likely as not round to the lor, it's 
 Mr. Bigstock." 
 
 " We was wanting to know, this lady and me, Mrs. 
 Green it's a matter, I may say, of lor and order, no 
 suspicions of course attaching to you, Mrs. Green if 
 you've seen a young man ? " 
 
 " In a coachman's livery," interpolated Miss 
 Faviel. 
 
 " In a coachman's livery," repeated Mr. Bigstock,
 
 142 Mr. Warley Sets out to Buy a Wardrobe 
 
 " a-coming through this here door into your privit 
 house? " 
 
 " Why," said Mrs. Green, " I have, not three min- 
 utes ago, I have." Mr. Bigstock's face fell, as Miss 
 Faviel's suspicions threatened to prove correct. 
 " And I sent him off straight away to find Mr. Green 
 over to the ' Sow an' Pigs.' ' 
 
 " What did I say, ma'am ? " asked Mr. Bigstock, in 
 sober triumph. " Over to the * Sow and Pigs,' you 
 say, Mrs. Green? " 
 
 " Yes, I do," Mrs. Green allowed, " and may my 
 tongue," she added dramatically, " never speak no 
 more if it ain't the truth I'm tellin' you, Mr. Big- 
 stock!" 
 
 " Hadn't we better hurry and see if he's there, 
 then? " asked Miss Faviel, in a fever of impatience. 
 
 " I must surely ask you to step along that way with 
 me, ma'am," said Mr. Bigstock proudly, as though, 
 having secured Miss Faviel, he must convey to her 
 that she must indulge no vain hopes of immediate 
 escape. " Good-day, Mrs. Green." 
 
 " Good-day, Mr. Bigstock." 
 
 Mr. Faviel breathed again as he heard the door close 
 upon his pursuers. Despite the continued precarious- 
 ness of his position, moreover, he could not refrain 
 from trying to picture to himself what Miss Faviel, 
 accustomed in her own part of the country to be some- 
 what of an autocrat, must be wishing to say to Mr. 
 Bigstock.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 MR. BOKE BUYS THE WARDROBE 
 
 COMING back to his shop some ten minutes after the 
 events recorded in the last chapter, Mr. Green, a small 
 rusty-bearded man with spectacles, found a customer 
 waiting there for him. As it was not at all an unusual 
 thing for him to find customers waiting for him, and 
 as it was a habit which had been growing more and 
 more upon him to be in no hurry to part with his wares 
 (the trouble nowadays of extracting things from re- 
 mote corners of the shop more than outweighing, in 
 Mr. Green's opinion, the profit he made from it), he 
 offered no apology for having been out, but started 
 upon the topic that had caused his absence. 
 
 " See that runaway ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Pretty good pace," said Mr. Green. " Lucky ther' 
 wasn't nothing in the way, no chil'r'n or anything. 
 He'd a gone clean through a perambulator that hoss 
 would, with the pace he'd got up. They do say he 
 was stopped two miles out by a carter. I reck'n the 
 parson '11 have to tip him for that, hey? Curious 
 thing, the parson was in here, same as you are now, 
 when the hoss started, buying a wardrobe " 
 
 " That's what I want to buy." 
 
 " Do you? " said Mr. Green dispassionately. " He'd 
 left his man outside with the hoss. All of a sudden 
 the man comes dashin' in. ' The hoss has bolted,' says 
 
 143
 
 144 Mr. Boke Buys the Wardrobe 
 
 he. * Dang,' says the parson, or words to that effect, 
 and out he bolts after 'im. Out I goes, and out, you 
 might say, the hull o' Waybury goes. Down the street, 
 tally-ho, the parson leading. I'm dratted if I remem- 
 ber when I've run as fur as I've run just now. And 
 that reminds me, I never sold 'im the wardrobe after 
 all. There it be." Mr. Green pointed at it. 
 
 "Why, that," said Mr. Boke, for Mr. Boke 
 it was, " that's the very sort of wardrobe I'm 
 wanting." 
 
 " Is it ? " said Mr. Green. " I don't know that you 
 can have that one. I'm dratted if I remember where 
 we'd got to, the parson and I, when we went out, like 
 a pack o' hounds, after that hoss. But I've a notion 
 he fancied it, the parson did. I expect he'll be back 
 after that wardrobe. It's funny, that is, not knowin' 
 whether you've as good as sold a thing or not." Mr. 
 Green chuckled. 
 
 " It is," said Boke. " But suppose he don't come 
 back?" 
 
 "Why, then," said Mr. Green, "there it 'ud be, 
 that's all." 
 
 It speaks much for Mr. Boke that at this crisis, 
 when many things hung upon his success, and Mr. 
 Green's attitude of unbusinesslike self-satisfaction 
 made him long to take up one of the warming-pans 
 and beat him with it, he restrained himself, and in the 
 wiliest manner entered into Mr. Green's aggravating 
 humor. 
 
 " But suppose he did come back and found you'd 
 sold it?" 
 
 " Why, there he 'ud be ! " said Mr. Green, with a 
 loud guffaw. " There the parson 'ud be. That's all. 
 Lost 'is hoss, and lost 'is wardrobe. He'd be in a
 
 Mr. Boke Buys the Wardrobe 145 
 
 taking, hey? Sure that was the sort of wardrobe you 
 wanted ? " 
 
 " Quite," said Mr. Boke. 
 
 " Very well," said Mr. Green, with a sudden as- 
 sumption of liberality, " for the fun, just for the fun 
 o't, you can have it for fourteen pound ten." 
 
 " I say ! " said Mr. Boke, who, having expected the 
 wardrobe for half that sum, was less open to the comic 
 aspect of the bargain. 
 
 " Or leave it," said Mr. Green, " as you please." 
 
 " I'll take it," said Mr. Boke. It was more than 
 likely that Mr. Green had paid a guinea for it at the 
 outside, but again Mr. Boke's knowledge of human 
 character warned him that if he wanted to have it there 
 and then, he must submit to Mr. Green's humor. 
 
 " Well then, there it is," said Mr. Green more 
 affably. " Take it or leave it, you know. I don't send 
 out." 
 
 " Oh, of course not," said Mr. Boke. " It wouldn't 
 pay you. I'll get a man directly from the inn to move 
 it over for me." 
 
 " I don't know that you can have it to-day," said 
 Mr. Green. " There'll be a lot o' work gettin' it outer 
 the back here." 
 
 " The man'll do that." 
 
 " If I let him," said Mr. Green tyrannically. " I 
 don't keer, I don't, to have my things smashed and 
 bashed just to please any stranger as happens to pop in. 
 It ain't business, that ain't. It's what you want, I 
 dare say, but it ain't what I want. I can't speak 
 plainer than that." 
 
 It would have been difficult to speak more plainly 
 under the circumstances, and most men might well 
 have given up at this juncture. Mr. Boke made a final
 
 146 Mr. Boke Buys the Wardrobe 
 
 effort " Well," he said " if I can't have it now, I 
 can't. But what made me want it particularly was 
 thinking of that joke of yours about the parson not 
 knowing if he'd bought it or not, and coming back 
 maybe an hour later to find it gone. You'd have the 
 laugh of him." 
 
 " Why, that's true," said Mr. Green, screwing up 
 his skinny face to indulge in a cackle. " That's true, 
 I would I'd like to see 'is face when 'e come back 
 an' it's gone. I'd tell 'im it was the next one 'e'd been 
 asking for that smaller'n and that it 'ad shrunk a 
 bit while 'e was away. Right 'o, you can take it. 
 Fourteen pound twelve. Only you'll have to take it 
 sharp. It's gettin' nigh to my dinner-time." 
 
 Mr. Boke did not pause to comment on the extra 
 two shillings that Mr. Green had packed on to the 
 price to mark his condescension in letting the wardrobe 
 go immediately, but drew out some dirty banknotes 
 and handed them over. " I'll go across to the inn 
 while you're getting the change," he said. " I s'pose 
 you'll be in the shop while I'm away ? " 
 
 " 'Course I shall," said Mr. Green. " Why shouldn't 
 I be?" 
 
 " Oh, no reason, no reason." 
 
 By great good luck Mr. Boke found the landlord of 
 the " Sow and Pigs " amenable to the suggestion that 
 a cart any cart, and a driver should be hired out 
 for the purpose of driving a wardrobe from Mr. 
 Green's to Captain Bunbury's place, as Mr. Boke called 
 it, at Hanging Coppice, for the consideration of ten 
 shillings for the cart, and sixpence for the driver, and 
 a pink-faced man who was found asleep in the stables 
 of the " Sow and Pigs " was aroused and appointed 
 to that post. Refreshed by his slumbers and by Mr.
 
 Mr. Boke Buys the Wardrobe 147 
 
 Boke's promise that another sixpence should be added 
 to his pay, if he stirred his timbers, the pink-faced 
 man routed out a horse and cart with unexpected 
 celerity, and also proved himself a man for an 
 emergency by procuring another equally pink-faced 
 man, who might have been his twin, to help get 
 the wardrobe out of Mr. Green's shop and to the 
 cart. 
 
 It was a delicate matter, this, for the wardrobe was 
 heavy, and Mr. Green in a fever about possible dam- 
 ages to the other things in the shop. But the pink- 
 faced men were imperturbably good-natured in the 
 face of insult, and within an hour of the time that 
 Sir Gawain had started careering down the High 
 Street of Waybury, the wardrobe was on the cart and 
 ready for the journey. Mr. Boke had had a stout 
 piece of rope, borrowed from the " Sow and Pigs," 
 tied round it tightly to prevent he said the doors 
 from flying open. 
 
 " Ready, my lad ? " he said to the original pink- 
 faced man. 
 
 " Yessir." 
 
 " Forrard, then ! " said Mr. Boke. 
 
 " Wait a bit," said Mr. Green, who had been inspect- 
 ing the track of the wardrobe through his shop on 
 hands and knees. " Wait a bit, you've bin and broke 
 a copper kettle with your clumpsy goings on. You'll 
 'ave to pay for that, four and nine. And there's a 
 cannel-stick cracked. That'll cost tenpence." 
 
 "Anything else?" asked Mr. Boke affably. The 
 pink-faced man had already cracked his whip and 
 started on. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Green, deceived by Mr. Boke's 
 previous meekness. " There's a coaled-scuttle 'ad 'arf
 
 148 Mr. Boke Buys the Wardrobe 
 
 the paint taken off it. 'Arf a crown I'll charge you 
 for that, and " 
 
 " Look here," said Mr. Boke, suddenly stepping 
 towards the little man. " There ain't much paint on 
 you, you mealy, measly, exigious little hatch-headed 
 son of a crab, but if you don't double-quick into your 
 privit rat-run, I'll scrape your nose along the gutter 
 till you can't see out of either of them beady squinters 
 of yours, not if you had 'em plated over with sixteen 
 pairs of goggles. Charge me, will you? " Mr. Boke's 
 aspect was so fierce as he delivered these words, that 
 Mr. Green simply turned and fled into his premises, 
 without so much as giving a glance to see if Waybury 
 could give him any assistance if he were pursued. 
 
 As a matter of fact, the High Street was as empty 
 as when Faviel drove through with Mr. Warley an 
 hour before. It was emptier indeed, for the lunch- 
 hour had arrived, when country-folk eat and sleep ; and 
 along the road nothing was visible but the cart, top- 
 heavy with the wardrobe, and the pink-faced man 
 trudging beside it cracking his whip. 
 
 With a snort proceeding from mixed feelings of 
 fatigue and triumph, Mr. Boke hastened after it. He 
 had achieved much that morning from the time he had 
 overheard by eavesdropping that the rector was to 
 be driven into Waybury. If he had had the time at 
 his disposal, he would have sent Coppenwell to mark 
 Faviel instead of going himself partly by running, 
 partly by the aid of a friendly butcher's cart. But 
 if he had sent Coppenwell, and Coppenwell as a matter 
 of fact was at the mill that morning, the watch on 
 Faviel being kept by turns, there would never have 
 been so brilliant a denouement to the weary search. 
 Coppenwell was smart, but he was too young for such
 
 Mr. Boke Buys the Wardrobe 149 
 
 an artistic piece of work. He would never have 
 thought of watching at Mr. Green's window; or even 
 if he had, he would never have had the audacity to 
 buy the wardrobe. Only a master mind would have 
 decided on it and carried it through so neatly. He 
 had been afraid Mr. Boke had after receiving 
 Blenkenstein's message that he would have to make a 
 rough and ready job of it kidnap his man by force 
 always a risky thing to do in a civilized country. As 
 it was he had merely bought a wardrobe, and not a 
 soul but himself knew what the wardrobe contained. 
 All that remained to be done was to cart that wardrobe 
 to the mill he had rented in the name of Captain 
 Bunbury and keep him in it as long as was necessary. 
 There were fifty chances to one against any one coming 
 near the mill in the next ten days; a thousand to one 
 against their suspecting that a man was held up there 
 illegally and by force. 
 
 Mr. Boke had chosen his position well. 
 
 He wished, however, as he walked along beside the 
 pink- faced man, that the mill were rather handier at 
 the present moment. 
 
 The heat which had been great in the morning 
 seemed to have increased in intensity. The cart 
 traveled in a white cloud of dust, and the pink-faced 
 man at the end of the first mile or two had turned into 
 the semblance of a miller. The road from Way bury 
 to the mill was a different one from that shady avenue 
 which led to Langston Bucket; it was an open road, 
 flanked by low hedges, from which the trees, if there 
 had ever been any, had long since disappeared. The 
 sun raked it fore and aft. Decidedly the mill might 
 with advantage have been handier. 
 
 So Mr. Boke thought, with a red pocket handker-
 
 150 Mr. Boke Buys the Wardrobe 
 
 chief flapping under his hat, and to him, so thinking, 
 the sight of a little inn, standing back at the cross of 
 the road behind two poplars, came like the vision of an 
 oasis to a traveler in the desert. 
 
 " You can wait a bit here," he said to the pink- 
 faced man, who had already drawn up in anticipation 
 of some such order. " I'm going in to get a drink." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the pink-faced man understand- 
 ing^- 
 
 " I shan't be a minute," said Mr. Boke encourag- 
 ingly. " You stick by the cart. I don't want that 
 wardrobe lost sight of. See? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the pink-faced man, in a flat key. 
 
 Mr. Boke hurried in through the little wooden porch 
 into the grateful gloom of the bar parlor, with its 
 sanded floor and cool smell of malt. 
 
 " A pint of bitter, ma'am," he said to the woman 
 who responded to his call, and sank into a settle. It 
 was not his intention to forget the pink-faced man, 
 by whom a pint of beer would no doubt be welcomed. 
 Indeed Mr. Boke, whose considerateness was great, 
 wondered, as the cool liquor flowed down his throat, 
 whether he could not, by some means or other, also 
 convey a pint to the unfortunate prisoner in the ward- 
 robe. Not quite seeing his way to this act of mercy 
 he ordered another pint, and sipped it contemplatively. 
 The minute he had undertaken to be absent grew to 
 five minutes, and the five to ten, and Mr. Boke was 
 still sipping. 
 
 Meanwhile the pink-faced man, not understanding 
 what was in store for him, grew restive. It was all 
 very well for the gentleman to be in there, and the 
 pink-faced man did not mind waiting a bit, though the 
 poplars gave no shade at all, and even in their feathery
 
 Mr. Boke Buys the Wardrobe 151 
 
 tops scarcely held a cupful of wind. But suppose the 
 gentleman came out when he'd done his drinking and 
 wanted to go straight on. He was in a bit of a hurry, 
 except when he was drinking himself. The possibility 
 of going straight on without a mug of beer did not 
 appeal to the pink-faced man. It seemed to him a 
 monstrous possibility, and all because the gentleman 
 wanted an eye kept on the wardrobe. But the ward- 
 robe couldn't run away. The horse certainly wouldn't. 
 The pink-faced man knew the horse well enough to 
 swear that the horse wouldn't move, unless you jogged 
 him. 
 
 There was a little path that ran round to the back 
 of the inn. The pink-faced man followed it. He 
 would not disturb the gentleman at his drinking, but 
 he would prevent the horrible contingency of an honest 
 driver being suddenly moved on without so much as 
 having wetted his whistle. 
 
 " A pint, mum," said the pink-faced man to the 
 landlady, as she came round to the back, " and if you'd 
 kindly let me know when the gent what's inside 'as 
 done 'is drinking! " The pink- faced man delivered a 
 slow wink that was rather an explanation than a sub- 
 tlety. " Here's wishin' you health, mum," he added, 
 and put his head back skilfully. 
 
 The landlady nodded. She had just taken Mr. 
 Boke his third pint.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 JIMMY INTERVENES 
 
 JIMMY was out for the day between lunch and 
 dinner-time for a bribe of one shilling and sixpence 
 per hour. Jimmy was not averse to accepting a bribe, 
 providing it was diplomatically offered ; and Lady Mal- 
 lendon, who had received a hint from O'Levin that 
 rehearsals were likely to go more smoothly without the 
 assistance of Jimmy's criticisms and emendations, had 
 been diplomatic. 
 
 " It's so very disappointing for you that your friend 
 Butt couldn't come," she said, referring to the fact 
 that a school friend of Jimmy's, who had promised 
 to come and stop a few days had developed mumps, 
 much to Jimmy's indignation, " but you mustn't allow 
 it to weigh on your spirits. And I do think, Jimmy, 
 you ought to go for a long walk. It would do you so 
 much good. You're looking quite pale for want of 
 exercise." 
 
 This was not perfectly true, but it was, as has been 
 said, diplomatic. 
 
 " Quel est le jeu? " said Jimmy lazily. 
 
 " I want you to go for a long, long walk." 
 
 "Combiang?" said Jimmy. 
 
 " I don't think," said Lady Mallendon, " that you 
 ought to bargain with me like that. It isn't right. 
 But I should like it to be a really long walk." 
 
 " Bob an hour? " Jimmy suggested. 
 152
 
 Jimmy Intervenes 153 
 
 " I do wish you wouldn't use slang," said Lady 
 Mallendon pathetically. " What is a bob? " 
 
 " Half-a-crown! " said Jimmy, who disliked inno- 
 cence. 
 
 " Oh, that's too much," said Lady Mallendon firmly. 
 " I couldn't give more than a shilling and and six- 
 pence." 
 
 " Cash down ! " said Jimmy. " I'll take four hours' 
 worth to start with, and see how things pan out. It's 
 jolly cheap for a stuffy day like this." 
 
 Lady Mallendon paid up the sum, conscious that 
 Jimmy having made a bargain would stick to it, which, 
 considering how simple an art it was to work upon 
 Lady Mallendon's feelings, was greatly to Jimmy's 
 credit. 
 
 It was Jimmy's intention to get his father to go 
 out with him, but Sir Jasper, who had sustained an 
 injury to the wrists as a result of hanging by them 
 for a couple of agonizing minutes from the bough of 
 a tree, up which Jimmy had decoyed him the evening 
 before (to photograph a bird's nest) and from which 
 Sir Jasper had finally dropped, luckily without break- 
 ing any bones declined to be drawn. 
 
 " Must have a breathing-space between the battles," 
 said Sir Jasper. 
 
 " We shouldn't be going after birds this time," 
 Jimmy said persuasively. " At least I thought of look- 
 ing for a kingfisher's nest for you. There wouldn't 
 be any climbing for that." 
 
 " Wading," said Sir Jasper. " Gout no thank'ee. 
 Not to-day, Jimmy." 
 
 " All right," said Jimmy. " I thought you'd like it. 
 That's all." 
 
 " Well, so I should," Sir Jasper allowed. " Any
 
 154 Jimmy Intervenes 
 
 other day, you know. You find the nest, and we'll 
 see. Five bob? No, I don't think I've got it. Be- 
 sides, what do you want with it, eh ? Saw Ames give 
 me two half-crowns in change? Well, there you are. 
 Don't spend 'em." 
 
 " I'll have them made into tie-pins for your birth- 
 day," said Jimmy sarcastically, and departed, mod- 
 erately well endowed for his afternoon out. He was 
 not exactly a spendthrift boy, but he liked to have 
 money with him, in case he saw anything that he 
 fancied or anybody asked him for some. 
 
 Armed with an air-gun walking-stick a recent pur- 
 chase, the price of which he had earned somewhat 
 easily a few days before, by consenting to have his 
 hair cut Jimmy set out with no particular object in 
 his mind, except that of serving his time, so to speak, 
 conscientiously and potting anything that might come 
 within a sporting range from a lamp-post down- 
 wards. He was not in the best of spirits, partly be- 
 cause of his friend's failure to arrive, partly because 
 the perpetual fussings about Miss Finch's play, and the 
 setting aside of all decent amusement for that purpose, 
 had got on his nerves for the last day or two. Judith, 
 too, consenting to have Mr. Blenkenstein hanging 
 about annoyed him. He had not been initiated into 
 the exact arrangement between these two, but he un- 
 derstood vaguely that there was a chance to say the 
 least of it of the beast becoming at some future day 
 his cousin-in-law. The possibility lowered Jimmy in 
 his own esteem. A promise he had given not delib- 
 erately to annoy Blenkenstein further irritated him. 
 He had given it at Judith's request, but that was before 
 he had understood what was going on. He did not 
 profess to understand now thoroughly, but he felt that
 
 Jimmy Intervenes 155 
 
 if he had understood as much as he did before, he 
 would never have given the promise. Girls, it seemed, 
 had to be protected against themselves, but he had 
 bound himself over not to protect Judy. 
 
 Altogether Jimmy was depressed, and saw very 
 little fun in prospect during the next week, unless it 
 was the prospect of observing Mr. Wormyer in process 
 of falling in love with Miss Finch. O'Levin had 
 thoughtlessly suggested this in Jimmy's hearing, and 
 Jimmy had promised himself some amusement from 
 it. He was reminded of it when passing Miss Finch 
 on his way out, and, later on, by the sight of Mr. 
 Wormyer hurrying along to take part in the after- 
 noon's rehearsals, just as Jimmy was issuing forth 
 from the lodge gates. He greeted Mr. Wormyer now 
 with a wave of the hand, after the manner of Mr. 
 Bayford. 
 
 " And how is the world treating you, Wormyer ? " 
 said Jimmy, in Mr. Bayford's voice. " How is the 
 world treating you ? " 
 
 The curate, who was an unobservant little man, 
 and plunged in the abstraction of joyous contempla- 
 tion, replied innocently, 
 
 " Very well, I thank you, Mr. Bay Oh, Mr. 
 
 Jimmy, is it ? I am not late, I trust ? " 
 
 " I don't think so," said Jimmy. " In fact, just as 
 I came away, Miss Finch was going out for a walk, a 
 little walk she said." 
 
 " Oh dear, perhaps I am too early then? " 
 
 " This way to meet some one. They were rather," 
 Jimmy said ingenuously " ragging her about it. 
 Hullo," he added, " there she conies. I expect you'd 
 like me to go on ? "
 
 156 Jimmy Intervenes 
 
 " Why er," said Mr. Wormyer, coloring, " do you 
 
 mean that I am such " 
 
 But Jimmy moved on his way, chanting 
 
 "Come sheep, come shepherds; come every one," 
 
 leaving Mr. Wormyer in considerable confusion, the 
 more especially as the Mordants' brake containing an- 
 other relay of dramatis persons, including Miss Etta 
 Warley, was just coming up from behind, and Jimmy 
 appeared to be making gesticulations to its occupants, 
 which might, Mr. Wormyer thought, be a continuation 
 of a jest which, he was sure, Miss Finch would con- 
 sider in bad taste. 
 
 Jimmy, however, was not sunk low enough, despite 
 his low spirits, for this. He was merely mimicking 
 Mr. Bayford's method of saluting for Miss Warley's 
 benefit, Miss Warley and he having struck up rather 
 a friendship; and he would not have done this, but 
 that the others were not sufficiently acquainted with 
 Mr. Bayford to understand. 
 
 Still, it must be confessed Jimmy's methods were 
 not as high-toned that afternoon as they generally 
 were. Otherwise, he would hardly have done what he 
 did later. 
 
 This was to shoot at a farmer, and it was done, 
 Jimmy considered, under provocation. The event oc- 
 curred a good hour later, and the provocation was 
 offered under the following circumstances. Jimmy 
 having wandered about six miles from his own home 
 was proceeding along the edge of a field, taking occa- 
 sional shots with the gun-stick at things that attracted 
 his attention, when a well-made scarecrow drew his 
 eye. It struck Jimmy that here was a mark which
 
 Jimmy Intervenes 157 
 
 would really test the gun. Hitherto that weapon had 
 not succeeded in hitting anything, which Jimmy was 
 beginning to be afraid was due to the fact that it shot 
 crooked, though he was willing to admit that it is not 
 easy to shoot a swallow on the wing or even on a 
 telegraph wire with a small bullet. A dozen shots 
 at a scarecrow would be the very thing. 
 
 He had had four of his dozen and hit the scarecrow 
 once in the hat when a shout from the other side of 
 the field informed him that there was a spectator of 
 his powers. As, however, the shout was from the 
 other side of the field, which was a large one of corn 
 not therefore to be traversed except on the circum- 
 ference; and as, in any case, he was not doing any 
 harm that he knew of, and would have been rather 
 glad if he had been, Jimmy paid no attention whatever 
 to the shout; and he had got as far as his ninth shot, 
 a very successful one which unfortunately knocked 
 the hat of the scarecrow clean off, before he came 
 aware that the shouter was a man of annoying deter- 
 mination. 
 
 " You little varment. I'll wring yer neck for 'ee, 
 when I get 'ee." 
 
 The shout was so very distinct that Jimmy perforce 
 looked round and beheld a gaitered man, very red in 
 the face, hurrying towards him along the edge of the 
 corn. 
 
 Jimmy measured the distance between himself and 
 the gaitered man, decided that it was still fifty yards, 
 reflected again that he was not doing any harm, and 
 took his tenth shot. 
 
 " I'll thrash 'ee till 'ee wriggle," yelled the farmer. 
 
 Jimmy took his eleventh shot at the scarecrow, and 
 turned smartly.
 
 158 Jimmy Intervenes 
 
 " Did you want to know the time ? " he inquired, 
 walking backwards. 
 
 "I'll dang 'ee. You shoot at me! Ow!" The 
 farmer leaped and howled, as the gun-stick, which 
 Jimmy had undoubtedly pointed in his direction, went 
 off. As Jimmy said afterwards, it would not have hurt 
 him, even if it had hit him, and he deserved to be hit. 
 Decent farmers do not threaten to thrash you because 
 you are practising at their scarecrow, practically, that 
 is to say, keeping off the birds for them. It was not, 
 as Jimmy pointed out, as if he had been walking 
 through the corn. 
 
 Jimmy pointed out these things afterwards. At the 
 time, immediately upon the discharge of his twelfth 
 shot, he fled. There was nothing else to be done. 
 Jimmy fled precipitately, with a start of some twenty- 
 five yards, and cleared over the field gate into a lane 
 with a slight increase of his lead, which was further 
 increased by the farmer's inability to vault the gate. 
 Jimmy rather hoped, the day being such a hot one, 
 that the farmer's enthusiasm would wane at that point, 
 but he was destined to disappointment. Either the 
 loss of his scarecrow's hat, or the attempt upon his 
 own limbs, had so stirred the farmer's wrath that he 
 had, it seemed, no thought of abandoning the pursuit. 
 The lane was a grass-grown one, and deadened the 
 sound of running, but the heavy breathing in Jimmy's 
 rear was clear warning that he must not stop. Re- 
 luctantly, at the next bend in the lane, Jimmy pitched 
 his walking-stick gun over the hedge, and left himself 
 free to solve the problem of his escape with his head 
 and his heels. He would have felt easier if he had 
 known just where the lane came out. A little nearer 
 home he would have been able to take to the fields,
 
 Jimmy Intervenes 159 
 
 since he knew them all well, and effect some doubling, 
 which would have been much more to his mind than 
 a stern chase, possibly long, but likely to be fatal if 
 the farmer had a good wind. 
 
 He had almost made up his mind, having seen the 
 farmer down a long straight bit a minute before, going 
 steadily, that he must try the fields anyhow, and risk 
 getting stuck in a hedge for some time, when the lane 
 suddenly terminated in a road. Ten yards down the 
 road, and standing back a little behind two tall poplars, 
 was an inn, and outside it stood a cart and horse. 
 
 Inside the inn, Mr. Boke was sipping his third pint, 
 and at the back of it the pink-faced man was draining 
 his second. Inside the cart was a wardrobe, and inside 
 the wardrobe was Mr. Faviel. Jimmy knew none of 
 these things. 
 
 All he knew was that the inn was the " Dun Cow," 
 and stood at the cross-roads about six miles from The 
 Ashlands, and that a cart and horse, driverless, stood 
 there too. Within ten seconds of realizing these facts, 
 Jimmy was in the driver's seat: in fifteen, the horse 
 was cantering down the branch road which led to The 
 Ashlands. This road turned almost instantly at right 
 angles to the way it cut the other road, and it was to 
 this fact that Jimmy, though he did not know it, owed 
 his escape. 
 
 The farmer, arriving at the lane's end rather more 
 than a minute behind Jimmy, pulled up. The boy 
 might have dodged in there, or he might have run 
 on. 
 
 Deciding that he had better make sure that he had 
 not run on before he examined into the question of 
 whether he had dodged into the inn, the farmer 
 hastened to the cross of the roads some few seconds
 
 160 Jimmy Intervenes 
 
 after Jimmy had turned the corner in the cart belong- 
 ing to the " Sow and Pigs." 
 
 The sound of wheels in the invisible distance sig- 
 nified nothing to the farmer, who judged that Jimmy, 
 probably at least as blown as himself, could hardly 
 have got out of sight if he had kept to any one of the 
 roads. He therefore dashed across to the inn, and 
 almost into the arms of Mr. Boke, who, having heard 
 the sound of wheels, and imagining some other vehicle 
 had arrived, thought it a wise step to see that no com- 
 munication took place (though, indeed, none was likely 
 to) between the newcomer and the prisoner of the 
 wardrobe. He had risen leisurely and the entrance of 
 the farmer stopped him. 
 
 " Ha' you seen a lad by any chance come in here? " 
 asked that irate person. " Been shootin' at me, the 
 lad has." 
 
 " Lor, no ! " said Mr. Boke. 
 
 The farmer banged on the bar with both his fists. 
 
 " Mrs. Cleavin, hi ! " he called. 
 
 " Lord, Mr. Dunt ! " said the landlady, hurrying out. 
 " Whatever be the matter? " 
 
 The farmer explained again with the utmost 
 vociferousness. 
 
 " I've promised to give un a thrashin', and I will, 
 dang it," he said. " He must ha' run into your garden, 
 Mrs. Cleavin, but I'll ha' un out " 
 
 " Why, you're welcome to look, I'm sure," said the 
 
 landlady, " but nobody ain't been there save " She 
 
 looked at Mr. Boke, and paused. The pink-faced man 
 was still there, quaffing. 
 
 " Sure he hasn't got away on one the roads? " said 
 Mr. Boke, his professional interest aroused. 
 
 " Well, I looked afore I came in here," said the
 
 Jimmy Intervenes 161 
 
 wrathful Mr. Dunt. " He can't have had the time, I 
 say." 
 
 " We'll take another glimpse," said Mr. Boke, issu- 
 ing forth in the most friendly way, followed by the 
 landlady and Mr. Dunt. " He might hullo ! " The 
 absence of the cart, which was in no way extraordinary 
 to Mr. Dunt, seeing that it had not been there when 
 he arrived, instantly struck him. " Has my man gone 
 on with that wardrobe? " he asked the landlady 
 sharply. 
 
 " Why, sir, no. He ain't." Mrs. Cleavin shook her 
 head deprecatingly. " He's havin' 'arf a pint, sir." 
 
 " Then damnation ! " shrieked Mr. Boke, " where 
 is it?" 
 
 The sight of a man suddenly brought to a greater 
 pitch of fury than himself slightly mollified Mr. Dunt. 
 
 "The lad couldn't, I s'pose," he suggested, "ha' 
 driven the cart off? Now I come to think of it, I did 
 hear wheels in the distance, like." 
 
 " Which way? " said Mr. Boke. 
 
 " Danged if I remember! " said Mr. Dunt, and Mr. 
 Boke's language was something new to the country. 
 
 " I wouldn't expect a man to talk like that," said 
 Mrs. Cleavin later on, when Mr. Boke had departed, 
 almost apopletic, leaving the pink-faced man dumb 
 with a sense of his sins, " not if some one had stole 'is 
 'oarded hall. Whereas, it ain't, Mr. Dunt, if you'll 
 believe me, not even 'is own 'orse and cart. That's 
 the ' Sow and Pigs's,' from Waybury. It's only a old 
 wardrobe which 'e bought second-'and, and is boun' to 
 turn up agen. I s'pose 'e must be a anticologist, being 
 in such a bluster about a old wardrobe. But, whatever 
 'e is, 'e ought to be ashamed of 'isself."
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE OPENING OF THE WARDROBE 
 
 IT was getting on for twilight when Jimmy drove 
 into The Ashlands, and he estimated that he had 
 earned another three shillings at least. He had been 
 strongly tempted when he first set off with the cart to 
 drive straight home, since the consequences of being 
 arrested red-handed and solitary by the owner of the 
 cart, might, he judged, be even less pleasant than those 
 with which the farmer had threatened him in the first 
 instance. 
 
 With characteristic honorableness, however, he had 
 decided that he must make good his four hours' ab- 
 sence, since he had taken money for it, and was pre- 
 vented from returning the same by the fact that all 
 but half-a-crown had dropped through a hole in his 
 pocket during his smart run with the farmer. 
 
 The first thing Jimmy did, therefore, was to divert 
 his horse along a track that led to a favorite spot of 
 his some underwood going down to the banks of that 
 very stream where he had proposed to his father to 
 try for a kingfisher's nest. It was a peaceful spot, 
 some distance from the road, and concealed from any 
 one, even in the immediate vicinity, by trees. In case 
 of pursuit, Jimmy, by crossing the stream, could attain 
 a good vantage ground, from which either to retire 
 or to defend himself. The opposite bank offered a 
 choice collection of stones. 
 
 162
 
 The Opening of the Wardrobe 163 
 
 That he did not abandon the horse and cart was 
 really a testimony to Jimmy's considerateness. He 
 was prepared to abandon it, if pursued; otherwise, he 
 thought, it would be fairer to the driver to convey 
 it to The Ashlands, since, if the man got into a row 
 with his employer for losing it, Sir Jasper would un- 
 doubtedly recompense him. Besides, the horse had 
 been of noble assistance to him at a critical moment. 
 He unharnessed it, therefore, and having tethered it 
 in a lush piece of grass, began his researches for a 
 kingfisher's nest. During these, the time had gone so 
 pleasantly that it was not until the pangs of hunger 
 began to assail him, that he thought of getting home. 
 
 Thereupon, having re-harnessed the horse, he had 
 driven home, quite uneventfully. It was only as he 
 drew near to the house that the possession of the cart 
 and horse became an embarrassment to him. He did 
 not quite know what to do with them. He was not 
 quite prepared to own up about them immediately, the 
 more so as people appeared to be at dinner, and Jimmy 
 was hungry himself, and did not want to wait about 
 longer than he could help. He had just got down, and 
 was holding the horse's head, reflecting that the horse 
 deserved well of him, and ought to have a feed, when 
 Ropes, the head gardener, came grumbling by. 
 
 " What ha' you got there, Master Jimmy ? " he asked 
 suspiciously. 
 
 " A wardrobe," said Jimmy. 
 
 "Another of they theatrical properties, is it?" 
 asked Mr. Ropes, these being his present bugbear. 
 " What do they want with a wardrobe, I'd like to 
 know; isn't there enough rubbish been carted on to 
 the turf, as 'tis, and the clumsy fellows smashing the 
 shrubs as they go by? What it is to be like when the
 
 164 The Opening of the Wardrobe 
 
 mob's been here, Lord knows! Where's the fellow 
 with it, Master Jimmy? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Jimmy truthfully. " I 
 thought I'd better hold on to it until somebody came. 
 You might tell some of the men to pome and fetch it, 
 if you're passing the stables." 
 
 "Where's it to go?" 
 
 " On the stage," said Jimmy, at random. 
 
 " I'll tell 'em," said Mr. Ropes. " And I'd best stop 
 and see 'em carry it through behind. It makes 'em 
 a bit more careful." 
 
 " Do," said Jimmy ; and, having watched Mr. Ropes 
 into the stables, departed. A few minutes afterwards, 
 the men who had been fetched by Mr. Ropes to deposit 
 the wardrobe on the open stage in the garden, having 
 fulfilled that duty, also withdrew. 
 
 Mr. Faviel, within the wardrobe, drew a deep breath 
 of relief. At last, after an incarceration of some six 
 or seven hours, he knew where he was ; and knew also 
 that for some little time to come no one else probably 
 would. How Jimmy had come into possession of him, 
 or why, he did not know. Up to the time when Jimmy 
 had addressed Mr. Ropes, and he had recognized 
 Jimmy's voice, he had had not the most shadowy no- 
 tion whither he was faring, or under whose charge. 
 
 He had guessed, indeed, from the eager way in 
 which Mr. Boke had purchased the furniture which 
 contained him, that the contents of that furniture were 
 not unknown to the purchaser. Therefore, Mr. Boke, 
 whom, of course, he had never seen, even on the first 
 night of his disappearance, must be one of Blenken- 
 stein's agents. Faviel tried to think he recognized the 
 husky voice, but, in any case, there could be little doubt 
 about the man's identity. Where he was taking him
 
 The Opening of the Wardrobe 165 
 
 to, was another matter. Faviel knew nothing about 
 Hanging Coppice, or its mill. He was being driven 
 somewhere by this husky-voiced man, and by another 
 from the inn. The other from the inn was not, Faviel 
 gathered from the conversation, aware of the contents 
 of the wardrobe; and it had been in Faviel's mind to 
 try and bribe him to let him out, what time Mr. Boke 
 quenched his thirst at the inn. 
 
 He had refrained, out of consideration that, if the 
 man were nearly panic-stricken at hearing a voice come 
 out of the wardrobe he supposed to be empty as was 
 most likely to be the case he would rouse every one 
 within reach, and there would be a revelation. Faviel 
 did not want a revelation; it was to avoid one that he 
 had entered the wardrobe. It was in the knowledge 
 that he wanted to avoid one that the man with the 
 husky voice had bought the wardrobe. No; sooner 
 than reveal himself, Faviel felt he must go to this mill, 
 wherever it was. 
 
 He was not, in spite of the heat of the day, in any 
 great danger of asphyxiation. Warm it undoubtedly 
 was inside that oaken closet, but the wardrobe, being 
 an old one, had chinks in plenty to let the air through. 
 And there was space to turn round in ; enough almost 
 to move about in. Faviel could see through one crack 
 see blurred things, the green of the hedges, the white 
 of the road, the blue fleece of the sky in a spas- 
 modically comforting manner. His chief desire was 
 for a drink; and his animosity against his unknown 
 captor was at its keenest when he heard him enter the 
 inn, after giving directions to the other man to keep 
 an eye on the wardrobe. 
 
 Jimmy's incursion into the cart had been sheer 
 bewilderment. Faviel had not even been aware that
 
 1 66 The Opening of the Wardrobe 
 
 the pink-faced man had abandoned his trust, so that 
 when the cart started off at a gallop, he supposed 
 that the journey was still being continued, though he 
 wondered a good deal at the change of pace. Later, 
 he realized, somehow, that he had lost one of his con- 
 ductors, for there was no more conversation at all a 
 thing that prevented him from knowing which of the 
 two was still with him. As the afternoon wore on, 
 and Jimmy deposited the cart on the bank of the 
 stream, Faviel had his first touch of genuine uneasi- 
 ness. The ugly notion took hold of him that perhaps 
 he was to be abandoned in this solitary place for it 
 sounded solitary, with its noises of birds and running 
 water. It would be an easy enough thing to do. No 
 one but the man who bought him knew him to be 
 inside; and that man, if ever he were brought to jus- 
 tice, could disclaim his knowledge with some show of 
 truth. If he were abandoned, everything depended on 
 whether he could cut the cord that he could see dimly 
 through the crack of the swing door. He had little to 
 do but push the door open then. He had taken his 
 knife out, and ascertained that the handle could be 
 thrust far enough through the crack to enable the 
 blade to cleave the rope, when Jimmy's whistling, 
 mostly out of tune which was Jimmy's method of 
 self -communing advised him that he was not aban- 
 doned, as he had by this time begun to hope. 
 
 He half thought of parleying with the whistler, but 
 again the fear of revealing himself to some one not 
 aware of his presence stopped him; and he relapsed 
 into his squatting posture to await the development of 
 events. He knew now that he could get out if left to 
 himself, and of that there seemed to be more than a 
 chance. He also vowed that somehow or other he
 
 The Opening of the Wardrobe 167 
 
 would get out, since, capture or no capture, he had 
 arranged to meet Judith on Sunday afternoon. 
 
 Still, a thirst that had become almost anguish must 
 have made him try some quick means of escape, had 
 Jimmy's journey taken longer; and, no sooner had the 
 steps of the men who had borne him on to the stage 
 died away, than his knife was out and he was sawing 
 away at the rope. He had got through one round of it 
 and began on the second when the sound of more steps 
 approaching warned him to cease operations. Then 
 followed the tones of a familiar voice: 
 
 " It is a very singular thing," Lady Mallendon was 
 saying, " that girls will be girls very singular and 
 trying. I remember how greatly tried Sir Jasper was 
 by my behavior when I was a girl myself. Contrari- 
 ness it was nothing more. He arranged for instance 
 once, shortly after we were engaged, to take me upon 
 the river in a canoe. The day came a lovely day 
 ' glorious boating weather/ Sir Jasper called it, if my 
 memory serves me. Yet, you would scarcely believe 
 it, but nothing positively nothing would induce me to 
 get into the canoe. Sir Jasper, always good-humored, 
 almost lost his temper he was in a white duck suit 
 and I do not wonder at it." 
 
 " You think, then, that it doesn't mean anything 
 particular? " said Blenkenstein, in a discontented voice. 
 
 " Girlishness mere girlishness," said Lady Mallen- 
 don reassuringly. " A girl a pearl ah is it one of 
 Herrick's charming lines ? " 
 
 " Don't know," said Blenkenstein. " I don't go in 
 for poetry, you know, Lady Mallendon. I suppose 
 I'm too much what's called a business man. I dare 
 say I don't understand it. But anyway, I don't under- 
 stand Judith. The arrangement was "
 
 1 68 The Opening of the Wardrobe 
 
 " Ah, you Efficients," interrupted Lady Mallendon 
 archly. " The arrangement ! But can youthful affec- 
 tions be bound by arrangements? They stray it is 
 their nature; they waver. You must try and see the 
 charm of that, Mr. Blenkenstein." 
 
 " It's charming enough," said Blenkenstein sulkily. 
 " I wouldn't mind seeing it in another girl." 
 
 " But you don't care for it in Judith ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " In that case," said Lady Mallendon, with a gentle 
 hauteur, " perhaps it would be better if what you call 
 the arrangement was given up." 
 
 The change of tone startled Blenkenstein as much 
 as it rejoiced Faviel in his wardrobe. The latter knew 
 that Lady Mallendon, in pursuance of a pet idea, 
 would go a good deal further than was wise; but he 
 also knew what Blenkenstein did not, namely, that if 
 her plans did not go smoothly nobody was more likely 
 than Lady Mallendon to give them up entirely and 
 start on a new tack. Blenkenstein, mercenary himself, 
 imagined that Lady Mallendon was bent on the match 
 mainly from the point of view of its financial advan- 
 tages. People had assured him that he was a catch, 
 and he was disposed to believe it himself, and to 
 believe that Lady Mallendon had more than an inkling 
 of it. He would have been astonished to learn that 
 it was only as the ideal financier that he was fan- 
 cied. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " he said quickly. 
 
 " I mean that of course, if you are dissatisfied, the 
 idea must be given up," said Lady Mallendon. " Two 
 uncertain people should never marry; and, indeed, I 
 am not sure that it would be for the best for you and 
 Judith to marry in any case of course I would not
 
 The Opening of the Wardrobe 169 
 
 press Judith for a moment, and I am sure you would 
 not." 
 
 " But but," began Blenkenstein, seriously upset, 
 " you don't mean it? " 
 
 Lady Mallendon flowed on : 
 
 " An honest attempt to understand one another's 
 feelings, to find out if two people's sympathies flow 
 together in the highest channels, is an experience that 
 cannot be wholly wasted." 
 
 " But I cannot give her up," said Blenkenstein 
 hoarsely. 
 
 Lady Mallendon seemed a little astonished. 
 
 " Oh, well, of course," she said graciously, " that 
 is different. I understood but perhaps it has gone 
 further with you than I thought. Possibly it has with 
 Judith. I do not know. Would it not be wise in that 
 case to test her again ? " 
 
 " You mean ask her if she will? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "You haven't really any objection?" 
 
 " Oh, not in the least," said Lady Mallendon. " I 
 had quite set my heart on it. Sir Jasper, I know, 
 would be pleased. He is not demonstrative where his 
 sentiments are concerned, but he is devoted to Judith. 
 Still, if you think " 
 
 " I think I'll take your advice," said Blenkenstein, 
 " and ask her again." 
 
 " It was a pity," said Lady Mallendon reflectively, 
 " that that Miss Faviel should have turned up so in- 
 opportunely the other day, because Judith well, it is 
 no good thinking of that. I do not suppose Mr. Faviel 
 will ever be heard of again. It is no doubt the last 
 flicker of the candle, poor young man." 
 
 They had begun to move away, and Blenkenstein's
 
 170 The Opening of the Wardrobe 
 
 comment was lost. If he could have known that the 
 poor young man was within a few paces of him, eaves- 
 dropping, his comment might have been a strong one. 
 
 Faviel waited a few minutes more, listening in- 
 tently, and then cut the last strands of the rope. He 
 had only to turn back the catch to get out. A sweet, 
 cool smell of myrtle from the shrubbery at the back 
 of the lawn greeted him as he stepped on to the stage. 
 Facing him was the house, its lights gleaming softly. 
 Somewhere inside was Judith. Was Blenkenstein ask- 
 ing her again ? For a moment Faviel was tempted by 
 the idea of creeping up to the house, and rinding her 
 out somehow or other, and asking her himself. But 
 the risks were too obvious. Already he could discern 
 figures on the lawn : they might come nearer and dis- 
 cover him. He had explored the garden only last 
 night, and it was not without some knowledge of his 
 whereabouts that he slipped off the back of the stage 
 and plunged into the shrubbery. It was so dark in 
 parts that he missed the path he thought he was on, 
 and almost ran into two people who were strolling 
 ahead of him; whereupon he dived into the thickness 
 of the laurels. 
 
 The noise he made had not passed unnoticed. 
 
 "What's that?" he heard a feminine voice inquire 
 tremulously. 
 
 It was Miss Finch who spoke, and she addressed 
 herself to Mr. Wormy er, who had accepted an invita- 
 tion to stop and dine. 
 
 " Could it be a rabbit? " said Mr. Wormyer. His 
 thoughts, due to Jimmy's insinuation, were big and 
 perplexing ones, full of a queer delight. 
 
 " It sounded like a man," said Miss Finch. " A a 
 burglar."
 
 The Opening of the Wardrobe 171 
 
 " Don't be alarmed ! " said Mr. Wormyer manfully. 
 " I'll challenge him " and he proceeded to cry, in his 
 somewhat thin voice: "If any one is in the bushes, I 
 must ask him to come out. He is frightening a lady." 
 
 Nobody responding for Faviel was making his 
 way as fast as possible in the other direction Mr. 
 Wormyer again implored Miss Finch not to be 
 alarmed. 
 
 " I don't think I am," said Miss Finch shyly, " with 
 a man to protect me." 
 
 Mr. Wormyer's heart beat high. Could this, he 
 asked himself, be love? He felt as though, single- 
 handed, he was willing to dispose of a tiger.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 SOME LIGHTS ON A SLEUTH-HOUND 
 
 ON Saturday afternoon, going towards Langston 
 Bucket, on the Waybury road, a motor-car rqight 
 have been seen and, as a matter of fact, attracted 
 some notice. It contained a lady, two men, and a 
 small fat dog. The driver of the car was Mr. Wilton, 
 and the lady beside him was Miss Faviel, while on the 
 back seat of the car sat Monarch and Mr. Bigstock. 
 The comparative disguise of plain clothes in no way 
 modified the policeman-like austerity of Mr. Bigstock's 
 features, which were, indeed, compressed into rather 
 a more severe mold than usual, from a consciousness 
 of the responsibility that rested upon him, mingled 
 with a fear that he should betray some symptoms of 
 supposing that Monarch was capable of snapping at 
 him. 
 
 Mr. Bigstock had protested against Monarch's pres- 
 ence on the car as being unnecessary, and Monarch's 
 similar protest ma>y have been delivered on the same 
 grounds. Tod Wilton had had some difficulty in con- 
 ciliating both parties; but once they were started, the 
 pleasant speed and refreshing wind had quelled the 
 mutual antagonism, and Monarch and Mr. Bigstock 
 sat together on the hind seat, rolling their eyes and 
 revolving their thoughts in peace. 
 
 The objective of the expedition was the Langston 
 Bucket rectory, and to Mr. Bigstock the credit of 
 fixing upon this point was due. When the search for
 
 Some Lights on a Sleuth-Hound 173 
 
 Miss Faviel's supposed nephew in the " Sow and Pigs " 
 had proved ineffective, and a further reconnaissance of 
 the High Street and its public-houses had met with no 
 success, Mr. Bigstock had been disposed to regard 
 Miss Faviel's statement as the result of a hallucination. 
 He even tried to convince the lady, not only that the 
 groom she had seen was not her nephew, but that she 
 had not even seen any groom. Miss Faviel had coun- 
 tered this proposition by inviting Mr. Bigstock to gain 
 information as to whether a groom in a dogcart had 
 or had not been seen in Waybury at the time she 
 named. It turned out that a groom and a dogcart had 
 been seen, and that moreover the horse attached to 
 the dogcart had, as Miss Faviel averred, run away, but 
 whether with the groom still in it or not there was no 
 saying for certain, as opinions differed. Some people 
 said that the groom, with a pale face, was seen tugging 
 at the reins; one man (a tramp) even contended that 
 as the cart flashed past him, the groom had cried out, 
 " Tell 'em I've done me best, and no man can do 
 more." As the tramp wanted remuneration for this 
 item of intelligence, it was very properly discredited. 
 The theory gained ground that the groom had got out, 
 and actually been in Mr. Green's shop, as Mr. Green 
 had said. 
 
 With this clue to guide him, Mr. Bigstock had, in 
 a moment of inspiration, asked whether anybody could 
 say whose the trap was. Lots of people could say 
 that it was a clergyman's, and several people that it 
 was Mr. Warley's, of Langston Bucket. The infer- 
 ence was that the groom was also Mr. Warley's, of 
 Langston Bucket. It was rumored that Mr. Warley 
 had recovered his trap some miles out of Waybury, 
 and it seemed possible that he had also recovered his
 
 174 Some Lights on a Sleuth-Hound 
 
 groom. Such at least was Mr. Bigstock's opinion, and 
 he proposed to Miss Faviel that together they should 
 descend on Langston Bucket next day. There was 
 nothing in the way of a horse to carry them there the 
 same evening, but Mr. Bigstock thought he could get 
 hold of a " shay " on Saturday. 
 
 Miss Faviel had suggested that she should telegraph 
 for a friend of hers, who was stopping at a village not 
 so very far distant with a motor-car to come over 
 and drive herself and Mr. Bigstock to the appointed 
 place. Mr. Bigstock had assented to the plan. 
 
 Hence the quartette in the motor-car on the way to 
 Langston Bucket. 
 
 Could their thoughts have been analyzed by the 
 people who saw them, those thoughts would have been 
 discovered to be as diverse as the thinkers. Mon- 
 arch's were dog's thoughts, not translatable into words. 
 Mr. Bigstock moved hazily in a maze of detective 
 reminiscences, mostly drawn from penny novels. In 
 practice he had never had any detective work to do, 
 and he did not somehow at the present moment feel 
 more than superficially like a sleuth-hound on the 
 track. He was convinced, for some reason best known 
 to himself, that the groom was not Miss Faviel's 
 nephew, and he felt rather injured in consequence. 
 He would have liked to grapple with a problem which 
 would tax the wits of the smartest man in Scotland 
 Yard, and he said to himself that he could have done 
 so, if the problem were put before him. But it was 
 not. He intended to browbeat the groom pretty se- 
 verely when he did see him, and show him plainly that 
 he couldn't try and make people think he was Miss 
 Faviel's nephew without drawing down on himself the 
 watchful eye of the law.
 
 Some Lights on a Sleuth-Hound 175 
 
 Miss Faviel mingled wonder as to what her nephew 
 Richard could be doing with a sort of humorous indig- 
 nation at Mr. Bigstock's formidable obtuseness. She 
 had put herself into Mr. Bigstock's clumsy hands, and 
 everything seemed to be slipping away from her in 
 consequence. But surely something could be learned 
 about Richard from this clergyman, if he really was 
 the clergyman whose livery Richard was wearing yes- 
 terday. She had no hope of seeing the groom still in 
 his situation. Mr. Wilton also had no hope of seeing 
 him there; or rather, it should be said, that he had 
 the hope of not seeing him there. He trusted that 
 Dick had got safely away, though how he had man- 
 aged it, if he had done so, there was no guessing. 
 Still, not knowing anything of Mr. Boke's watchful- 
 ness or of the affair of the wardrobe, he was not 
 greatly concerned about his friend. He expected that 
 somehow or other Dick would contrive to effect the 
 meeting between Miss Mallendon and himself, which, 
 when Tod had last seen him on this very road two 
 days ago, had seemed to both of them the best plan 
 for putting a spoke in Blenkenstein's wheel. 
 
 It was the memory of the minutes shortly before 
 he had discovered Faviel that mostly concerned Mr. 
 Wilton. He was on his way to the rectory again to 
 see the maiden with the blue eyes, whom he had so 
 nearly and brutally run over. 
 
 What, Mr. Wilton wondered, did she think of him? 
 The question had been in his mind for the past forty- 
 eight hours, and partly accounted for his being in the 
 car in company with Miss Faviel and the police con- 
 stable at the present moment. 
 
 His intention had been to return to town, and during 
 the brief delirious moments in which he had apologized
 
 176 Some Lights on a Sleuth-Hound 
 
 to Mr. Warley for having almost killed his daughter, 
 and had accepted a cup of tea from the hospitable 
 hands of Mrs. Warley, he had unfortunately let out 
 that intention. The unfortunate nature of this con- 
 fession only struck him when he had left the rectory 
 and was on his way to the rendezvous with Faviel. 
 For it came over Mr. Wilton that, having represented 
 himself as a passing motorist from London, he could 
 hardly avoid raising suspicions if he proceeded to do 
 what seemed to him now a much pleasanter thing. 
 This was to put up at an inn for a day or two, so 
 as to be able to call at the rectory again and inquire 
 how Miss Warley was after the shock. It seemed to 
 Tod that to call was the only polite thing to do, the 
 sort of thing that he ought to do; and yet, to pay 
 a call from London, sixty miles distant, would cer- 
 tainly look strange. At least, would it ? The opinion 
 of a woman of the world upon this delicate point of 
 etiquette would have been infinitely welcome to the 
 conscientious lieutenant. He thought of asking Fa- 
 viel's advice, but unselfishly refrained, since Faviel had 
 already enough to think of. 
 
 In the end, a bright thought occurred to Mr. Wilton. 
 Why should his car not break down and compel him 
 to put up in the neighborhood? Cars often do break 
 down, and if he represented such an accident to have 
 occurred when he called at the rectory, nobody would 
 think his conduct peculiar. He would, it is true, lose 
 the credit of seeming to call just for the sake of in- 
 quiring, but he would be able to call, which was the 
 chief thing. 
 
 The thought seemed bright at the moment of its 
 occurrence, but after Mr. Wilton had put up at an inn 
 a few miles nearer London on the Langston Bucket
 
 Some Lights on a Sleuth-Hound 177 
 
 road, all the old doubts and several new ones cropped 
 up again. He thought it would be deemed officious 
 if he called the next day, as though he wanted to 
 force his acquaintance on them. And if he called, and 
 they were out, he would have lost the opportunity of 
 seeing them again. He could not go on calling. So 
 Tod spent Friday, lounging about the village, to keep 
 up the idea that there was something the matter with 
 the car, and saying to himself that he had now lost 
 the one opportunity of being ordinarily polite that 
 was offered to him, since, if he called later on, they 
 would assume that he could not have been particularly 
 interested in Miss Warley's welfare, or he would have 
 inquired sooner. 
 
 He had sent off a letter to Miss Faviel, acquainting 
 her with his change of plans (but not with the reason 
 of them: he said the country was so charming 
 that he had been tempted to stop and explore a lit- 
 tle), in case he could be of any further use to that 
 lady. 
 
 Her telegram, reaching him about five o'clock on 
 Friday, was a godsend, and sent Mr. Wilton into the 
 seventh heaven until he thought it over, when he in- 
 stantly perceived a large number of objections to the 
 proposal it contained that he should accompany her 
 to the rectory on the following day. For example, he 
 could not in that case for a moment pretend that he 
 had come to inquire after Miss Etta's state of well- 
 being. It might be revealed to Miss Faviel that he 
 had seen the pseudo-Higginson. The policeman's 
 trained eye might observe his hesitations and contra- 
 dictions, and discover his guilty acquaintance with Fa- 
 viel's movements. 
 
 Mr. Bigstock's portentous but obviously self-corn-
 
 178 Some Lights on a Sleuth-Hound 
 
 posing powers of thought relieved him of this last 
 apprehension, though others still weighed upon him, 
 when, turning slowly on his seat so as not to arouse 
 Monarch's animosity, Mr. Bigstock announced, as they 
 entered the village of Langston Bucket 
 
 " First turn on the right, sir. And a few yards 
 on. A white gate. There's likely to be fowls 
 about " 
 
 " Right ! " said Mr. Wilton, who had already begun 
 to turn. 
 
 " You seem to know it," said Miss Faviel. 
 
 " Why," said Mr. Wilton, with a slyness that sur- 
 prised himself, " this is the same rectory as the one 
 I called at on Thursday. I didn't tell you of the 
 accident I had, did I ? " He related it in a few words, 
 as they went up the drive, and Miss Faviel was in the 
 act of saying, " But then you must almost have seen 
 Richard," when Etta appeared at the porch. 
 
 " Mr. Wilton ! " she said, with a delightful blush of 
 surprise. 
 
 " I hope " Tod began. But Mr. Bigstock saw 
 
 his opportunity and availed himself of it. He had 
 removed himself with unexpected celerity from his 
 place beside Monarch, and recovered all his wonted 
 dignity. 
 
 " Excuse me, sir," he said, holding up his hand, 
 as though to stop any traffic there might be in the 
 neighborhood. " The conduc' of this case having bin 
 put in my hands I must ask you to excuse me. Now, 
 miss," he wheeled round upon Etta, " don't be fright- 
 ened. But as a matter of lor, miss, is Mr. Warley, 
 rector an' parish priest, inside this here rect'ry ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Etta, slightly alarmed, in spite of Mr. 
 Bigstock's admonition.
 
 Some Lights on a Sleuth-Hound 179 
 
 " It's only, my dear," said Miss Faviel, " some 
 questions about my " 
 
 Mr. Bigstock put up his hand at Miss Faviel. 
 
 " I must ask you, ma'am, to observe se-creesy in 
 the first instance. For all you know, and for all I 
 know, the prisoner, I should say the gentleman, may 
 be a-listening to your words at this very mo- 
 ment. The young lady, for all you know, ma'am, 
 may be in the conspiracy, if such a conspiracy there 
 be- 
 
 " But why, in the name of goodness, man," said 
 Miss Faviel fractiously, " should there be a con- 
 spiracy ? If you would ask this young lady first of all 
 if you may see her father, and secondly, if " 
 
 " A-zackly ! " said Mr. Bigstock. " We are a-com- 
 ing to that, ma'am, if you will allow me to say so. 
 But the conduc' of this case being, as I have afore 
 mentioned, in my hands, I shall first of all ask this 
 young woman, or lady aforesaid, where Mr. Warley, 
 rector, may be found and lighted upon " 
 
 " In the library, I think," said Etta with some 
 uneasiness. 
 
 " Then," said Mr. Bigstock, " in the name of the 
 lor " 
 
 " Tut ! " broke in Miss Faviel. " My dear, what we 
 want to know is if your father will allow us to speak 
 to him for a few minutes " 
 
 " Pray come in," said Etta, adding to Mr. Wilton, 
 " I'm sorry to say our man has disappeared, but if 
 your car is all right by itself ? " 
 
 Mr. Wilton nodded, and assisted Miss Faviel down. 
 Etta headed a procession, of which Mr. Bigstock com- 
 posed the solemn rear, to Mr. Warley's library, and 
 opened the door.
 
 180 Some Lights on a Sleuth-Hound 
 
 " I don't know but what it wouldn't be safer if 
 summun kept an eye outside," whispered Mr. Bigstock 
 to Mr. Wilton, as they were about to enter. 
 
 " I'll do it, if you like," said Tod, and walked back 
 again to the porch.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 ETTA MAKES A DISCOVERY 
 
 Miss FAVIEL'S ill-concealed impatience, combined 
 with Mr. Warley's somewhat patronizing way of re- 
 ferring to him as " Constable," prevented Mr. Big- 
 stock from developing the investigation on the strict 
 and awe-inspiring lines which he had contemplated. 
 The discussion, indeed, became more or less a con- 
 versation between Miss Faviel and the rector a con- 
 versation in which Mr. Bigstock's pertinent queries 
 were treated with scant respect. 
 
 Mr. Warley was genuinely interested in his late 
 groom's case. 
 
 " I never read the information you say was in the 
 papers about his disappearance in the first instance, or 
 I might have connected Higginson Mr. Faviel, as I 
 ought to call him with it. As it happened, I took 
 him on trust, and, if you'll allow me to say so, a better 
 groom I never wish to have." 
 
 " Richard," said Miss Faviel regretfully, " always 
 was reliable." 
 
 " You consider, then," said Mr. Bigstock, " that the 
 young man was this lady's nephew ? " 
 
 " Well, Miss Faviel says she recognized him," said 
 Mr. Warley. " I see no reason against it, do you ? " 
 
 "Where did he git, then?" said Mr. Bigstock 
 doggedly. "If he was the gentleman, where did he 
 git?" 
 
 xlt
 
 1 82 Etta Makes a Discovery 
 
 " That, I imagine," said Mr. Warley dryly, " is what 
 you have to find out," and Mr. Bigstock collapsed. 
 
 " Of course," Mr. Warley resumed, " my knowledge 
 of him terminates just where yours begins. From 
 the time he entered the shop " 
 
 " As I was certain he did," said Miss Faviel. 
 
 " Arterwards being traced to the ' Sow an' Pigs,' ' 
 said Mr. Bigstock feebly. 
 
 " Very doubtfully traced," Miss Faviel added. 
 
 " I saw nothing whatever of him. The horse had 
 run away, and like a good many other people, I ran 
 after it. My assumption was that Higginson would 
 do the same. The horse was stopped about two miles 
 out of Waybury. Luckily there was no damage done 
 to any one, and the horse itself had only strained one 
 of his legs. I thought the best thing to be done was 
 to leave him at the inn there, where, as a matter of 
 fact, he still is. After that I walked home, having 
 first ascertained that Higginson had not come up. I 
 must confess I was considerably annoyed with him for 
 having left the horse like that, which your explanation, 
 Miss Faviel, of course makes a good deal clearer. 
 Still, I was not dreaming of dismissing him, or any- 
 thing of that sort. I still thought he would turn up, 
 a little ashamed of himself, perhaps, but I was begin- 
 ning to lose hope of it when you arrived " 
 
 " Then it's to be taken, is it," asked Mr. Bigstock, 
 with a show of prudent doubting, " that he ain't on 
 the premises ? " 
 
 " Obviously," said Miss Faviel. " Do you doubt 
 Mr. Warley's word ? " 
 
 " He might 'a' crept back to die," said Mr. Big- 
 stock, with a faint recollection of some incident he had 
 heard of somewhere.
 
 Etta Makes a Discovery 183 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Warley, smiling, " you're quite 
 welcome, constable, to examine the premises if you 
 like." 
 
 " Thanky, sir," said Mr. Bigstock. " Chimbleys 
 have hid things afore now." 
 
 " So I believe," said Mr. Warley. " I'll ring for the 
 housemaid, and ask her to let you see them all, and 
 after that you could have a glass of beer, perhaps, in 
 the kitchen." 
 
 " Thanky, sir," said Mr. Bigstock again. " None o' 
 the maids, I suppose, couldn't a bin in league with the 
 gentleman ? " 
 
 "What sort of league?" 
 
 " Conspiring agen the King's peace," said Mr. Big- 
 stock, in a general way. 
 
 " I hardly think so. But you'd better ask them 
 yourself," said Mr. Warley. " Here's Mary. Mary, 
 this is the Waybury police-constable, and he wants to 
 be shown the chimneys, if you'll be good enough to 
 point them out, and afterwards get him a glass of 
 beer." 
 
 " Thanky," said Mr. Bigstock, and followed the 
 beaming housemaid with unreluctant steps. 
 
 " I thought," said Mr. Warley apologetically, " that 
 perhaps we should get on more quickly if your Sher- 
 lock Holmes retired. I am sure there are lots of 
 questions you would like to ask about your nephew, 
 and we should be delighted to answer. Etta, there's 
 your mother just coming back. Ask her to come in 
 and help us." 
 
 " And Mr. Wilton? " said Etta. 
 
 " Oh, yes, pray bring him in," said Mr. Warley. 
 " What a curious coincidence that he should be a great 
 friend of Higginson's Mr. Faviel's, I mean and
 
 184 Etta Makes a Discovery 
 
 only a day or two ago should have brought Etta in 
 from a fall. Why, bless my soul, that was on Thurs- 
 day, Etta, wasn't it? He might very well have dis- 
 covered his friend and saved you all this worry, Miss 
 Faviel. What a complicated business! A very nice 
 young man Mr. Wilton seemed to be for a motorist." 
 
 " He is," said Miss Faviel. 
 
 Etta sent her mother bustling in not quite certain 
 whether Higginson had turned out to be a burglar or 
 an angel easily enough. But when she approached 
 Mr. Wilton with the request that he also should enter, 
 there seemed to be a disinclination on that gentleman's 
 part. He did not actually say so, but fussed round 
 the car, busying himself with several little things, and 
 talking rapidly the while. 
 
 " It's the worst of a hired car. Everything goes 
 wrong." 
 
 " Is it the same one ? " Etta asked. She had on 
 a floppy garden hat, and looked charming as she 
 stroked Monarch, still lolling on the back seat. 
 
 Mr. Wilton nodded. 
 
 " I'd like to smash it to bits," he said. " And you, 
 are you really all right again ? " 
 
 " Why, of course," said Etta, laughing. " I never 
 was wrong, you know." 
 
 " I meant," said Mr. Wilton, " to call yesterday 
 and ask how you were. I was uncommonly anxious." 
 
 " I thought you were going on to London," said 
 Etta innocently. 
 
 " I was," said Mr. Wilton, " but I didn't " 
 
 " And now," said Etta, " you've had to come about 
 your friend. It does seem curious that Higginson 
 should really have been a friend of yours all the time." 
 
 " Doesn't it ? " Mr. Wilton agreed.
 
 Etta Makes a Discovery 185 
 
 " And that you shouldn't have recognized him when 
 you did see him." 
 
 Mr. Wilton looked up guiltily from an inspection of 
 one of the back tires. Etta looked supremely innocent. 
 
 " Ye yes," said Mr. Wilton. 
 
 " I suppose, as my father says, it would have saved 
 a good deal of worry if you had recognized him?" 
 Etta was looking at Monarch as she spoke, but there 
 was something in her tone that warned Tod that pre- 
 varication would not do. 
 
 " I don't know that it would have saved worry," he 
 admitted. 
 
 " Then you did recognize him ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Etta's eyes sparkled with triumph. She felt that 
 she, and she alone, had known from the first that 
 Higginson was no mere groom, and now, from that 
 chance exclamation that Mr. Wilton had let fall when 
 he drove her up to the rectory two days before, she 
 had inferred what neither her father nor Miss Faviel, 
 nor that stupid policeman had even so much as thought 
 of the fact, namely, that Mr. Wilton was cognizant 
 of his friend's disguise. She forgot that she had given 
 up all thought of Higginson's being anything beyond 
 what he professed to be, and she also presumed that 
 her discovery gave a title to know more than she actu- 
 ally did of this interesting and mysterious affair. Mr. 
 Wilton's reply to her next remark was really annoying. 
 
 " I think I have the right to know exactly what it 
 all means," said Etta arbitrarily. 
 
 " I'm awfully sorry," said Mr. Wilton, " but I can't 
 tell you." 
 
 The insufferable thing about this answer was that 
 he spoke it as if he meant it. Etta had supposed, from
 
 1 86 Etta Makes a Discovery 
 
 her small experience of him, that Mr. Wilton was a 
 most amenable person. 
 
 "Oh!" she said coldly. 
 
 " I'd tell you if I could," said Mr. Wilton earnestly, 
 " but I haven't the right to." 
 
 " Pray don't trouble about it," said Etta, with a 
 pout. 
 
 "You don't mind?" 
 
 " Why should I ? " Etta asked. " The only thing is 
 that I think I ought to tell Miss Faviel of what I know 
 about it. She is naturally interested in her nephew's 
 disappearance." 
 
 She spoke lightly and provokingly, because she had 
 been provoked. She had not thought so often of Mr. 
 Wilton (owing to rehearsals and other things that took 
 up her attention) as she had expected to: certainly 
 much less often than he had thought of her. Absence 
 rather tends to weaken the impressionable, since it 
 cannot confirm the impression. Still, when Mr. Wil- 
 ton arrived again, she was prepared to renew her previ- 
 ous fancies, in which, it will be recalled, he figured as 
 a devoted knight, as devoted as Higginson had not 
 been. Devoted knights do not say, in response to a 
 request that is almost a command for enlightenment, 
 what Mr. Wilton was saying now. 
 
 " I must ask you to tell Miss Faviel nothing about 
 it." 
 
 " Why ? " said Etta rebelliously. 
 
 "You'll promise?" 
 
 If Mr. Wilton's other manner of looking away at 
 his car and stuttering had been his manner at this 
 moment, Etta would not have begun to make a prom- 
 ise. She had right on her side, and almost duty, and 
 maiden's caprice and maiden's wil fulness. But he was
 
 Etta Makes a Discovery 187 
 
 looking at her with level eyes, and his voice was quite 
 hard. 
 
 " Very well," said Etta, in the meekest voice, and, 
 without seeing the picture as plainly as she generally 
 did see these pictures of her fancy, felt like one of 
 those devoted maidens, who, to win the careless atten- 
 tion of the splendid knight, put on page's attire, and 
 in that humble guise follow him along the rough road 
 of pilgrimage and war. 
 
 Somehow it was a pleasant sensation, and Mr. 
 Wilton, as unconscious as any splendid knight that he 
 had caused it, added to it by merely giving a com- 
 monplace nod, as though to say this was what he had 
 expected, and what he had expected would of course 
 be carried out. 
 
 " Some day," he said, " I hope to be able to tell you 
 all about it, and then you'll understand why I couldn't 
 tell you now." 
 
 " Yes," said Etta. 
 
 " I don't quite know when," said Mr. Wilton. " In 
 fact," he suddenly resumed his old apologetic manner, 
 " I'm talking as if I lived here and knew you well, 
 which of course I don't." 
 
 " No," said Etta. 
 
 " Do you think," Mr. Wilton flushed quite red with 
 the idea of the momentousness of the question, " that 
 Mr. Warley your father I mean you all of you, 
 would mind if I called one day? " 
 
 " I expect my father would be delighted," said Etta. 
 
 " Well, I will," said Mr. Wilton, with determina- 
 tion. " I shall be stopping about here for a few days 
 I expect so, at least I really don't know, but anyhow, 
 if you don't mind, I can come up from town. It's only 
 a few minutes hours, distant, isn't it?"
 
 1 88 Etta Makes a Discovery 
 
 " I suppose you're not going to the garden party at 
 Lady Mallendon's on Saturday, are you ? " Etta said. 
 " It's public, you know, for a charity. It might be 
 worth seeing." 
 
 " Will you be there ? " asked Mr. Wilton eagerly. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I certainly shall," said Tod. He had no time to 
 say more, for Miss Faviel, who had gathered all possi- 
 ble details from Mr. and Mrs. Warley concerning her 
 nephew, was coming out. Otherwise, Mr. Wilton 
 might have explained that he knew the Mallendons, 
 and Etta might have informed him that she was acting 
 in the play, and that the princess in that drama was 
 a friend of hers, and was indeed coming over to lunch 
 next day. Faviel, in his brief interview with Mr. 
 Wilton, had not entered into particulars, and the inter- 
 course between the rectory and The Ashlands was ac- 
 cordingly hidden from Tod. It is doubtful, even if he 
 had known of it, whether he could have done anything 
 in the way of warning Etta not to prejudice Faviel's 
 case with Miss Mallendon. 
 
 " Well," Miss Faviel was saying, as she came out, 
 " I shall stay in Way bury a few more days to see if 
 I can hear anything of poor Rictiard. He must, of 
 course, be off his head; but at any rate it's a relief to 
 know that he did nothing very peculiar when he was 
 with you, Mrs. Warley. It's very kind of you to have 
 told me what you could, and to have treated him as 
 you did." 
 
 " Not at all, not in the least," said Mr. Warley. 
 " The best groom I ever had. Not a moment's anxiety 
 while he was here. To think that he is a distinguished 
 traveler ! "
 
 Etta Makes a Discovery 189 
 
 " Was he? " Etta whispered to Mr. Wilton, and Mr. 
 Wilton nodded. 
 
 " If we can do anything to assist you," Mr. Warley 
 continued, " pray let us know, and if you should have 
 good news I should esteem a line a favor." 
 
 " I will send one with pleasure," said Miss Faviel. 
 " Quiet, Monarch. These are friends." 
 
 Monarch subdued his high-pitched challenge of Mr. 
 Warley to a grumbling croak, calculated to assure him 
 that nothing would happen if Mr. Warley did not 
 presume further. He returned to the more furious 
 yap, however, as Mr. Bigstock, with a black smear 
 down the bridge of his nose and watery eyes, came 
 upon the scene. 
 
 " Well, constable," said Mr. Warley, " any dis- 
 coveries ? " 
 
 " Why, sir," said Mr. Bigstock, " he ain't suttenly 
 up the chimbleys, so fur as I can see, without a broom 
 or anything o' the kind, and argying from the soot, 
 there ain't been anybody up within the las' three weeks. 
 Some of us might argy to as much as four weeks, but 
 I wouldn't go not further than three myself. There's 
 a lot o' soot accumerlated in a chimbley in three 
 weeks." 
 
 " So it seems," said Miss Faviel unkindly. 
 
 " The maids," continued Mr. Bigstock, unaware of 
 the reference, " ain't seen the gentleman later than 
 what you've seen 'em yourself. O' course that ain't 
 argyment, not as we counts it. Why ! they ain't trained 
 to see. No reflection, sir," added Mr. Bigstock mag- 
 nanimously, " on your maids, which are a tidy lot, and 
 frank-spoken as I could wish. But scrubbing, parlor 
 dusting, and preparing vittles for the table do not train 
 the eye."
 
 190 Etta Makes a Discovery 
 
 " So you've got no clue ? " 
 
 " Not, sir," said Mr. Bigstock with dignity, " what 
 we would call a clue. One or two idees I may have 
 picked up, but you'll excuse me for not a-mentioning 
 of them in public like. I may foller them or I may 
 not. One thing I would wish to say; I ain't had the 
 time I could ha' wished, but if you have a tidy-sized 
 trunk anywheres, under a bed or wash-hand stand, I'd 
 look in it. It ain't pleasant to think of, but bodies 
 have been found in trunks afore now." 
 
 " We'll examine the trunks," said Mr. Warley. 
 
 " Shoo, dog, shoo ! " said Mr. Bigstock, clambering 
 up on to his seat beside Monarch, and stiffening his 
 knees to make them harder to bite. 
 
 "Ready?" asked Mr. Wilton. 
 
 Yessir " 
 
 Somewhat regretfully Mr. Wilton started his car 
 on the return journey to Way bury. He could not see 
 Miss Etta Warley again for a week.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE TRIUMPH OF MR. BOKE 
 
 JUDITH drove herself over to Langston Bucket after 
 morning church. It is to be feared that Mr. Worm- 
 yer's efforts in the pulpit, though they might well have 
 called forth the Bishop's famous remark to Mr. Bay- 
 ford " The diocese is not without its preacher, Bay- 
 ford : the diocese is not without its preacher " were 
 entirely wasted so far as this young lady was con- 
 cerned. 
 
 Doubt had been the subject of Mr. Wormy er's 
 sermon. Doubt Mr. Wormyer said was a vice 
 which had caused more unhappiness than any other. 
 A man should be able to make up his mind once and 
 for all. So Mr. Wormyer added carried on the 
 flood of his own eloquence, should a woman. It may 
 be that he had in his mind's eye the incident of the 
 shrubbery on Friday night; it may be though he did 
 not glance that way that he saw Miss Finch herself, 
 looking pensive in a baby hat. Together Mr. Worm- 
 yer concluded together in one fixed faith, man and 
 woman might face whatever should betide them. 
 
 Mrs. Baggie, a deaf old lady who had once kept the 
 grocer's shop at Hetchingham, and was assiduous in 
 her attendance at church, said to a friend at the con- 
 clusion of the service that she " a'most wished she had 
 brought her ear trumpet." 
 
 She considered it wasteful to use that instrument 
 except on special occasions. 
 
 191
 
 192 The Triumph of Mr. Boke 
 
 Doubt had also been the subject of Judith's 
 thoughts. She did not doubt any longer whether she 
 was going to attend the tryst in the woods inside The 
 Ashlands. She only doubted what she should say to 
 Mr. Faviel when she saw him. The old struggle be- 
 tween her inclinations and her sense of what was fit 
 between what she felt that she desired, and what she 
 thought that she ought to desire had renewed itself 
 more violently than ever. Why, when her opinion 
 of Mr. Blenkenstein had not altered, should her liking 
 have strayed elsewhere? Had she never liked Mr. 
 Blenkenstein, and never had cause to think badly of 
 Mr. Faviel ? She could not, having a clear mind to her 
 undoing, answer " never " to either question. Etta 
 would have been able to. She had the faculty of 
 regarding her latest mood as the safest and most con- 
 stant in the world. 
 
 Judith sat in judgment on herself impartially, no 
 matter how skilled an advocate the moment's emotion 
 should prove. But a judge can only pronounce 
 sentence ; he cannot carry it out. In the very teeth of 
 the verdict, the guilty prisoner that is oneself goes on 
 its way, if not rejoicing, at least perilously expectant 
 of delight. 
 
 Judith was bound for the Langston Bucket rectory 
 precisely because it took her away from Blenkenstein, 
 and made the afternoon's appointment more easy to 
 accomplish. She intended to send on the groom with 
 the horse when she should have reached The Ash- 
 lands lodge on her return journey; telling him that 
 she would walk the rest of the way. 
 
 Rain had fallen during church time, laying the dust 
 on the road and bringing forth all the sweets of the 
 meadows and hedgerows. The air smelt of honey-
 
 The Triumph of Mr. Boke 193 
 
 suckle and tasted of wine. The birds made it ring 
 again with their redoubled singing. Bees were hurry- 
 ing round to see if their workshops, the flowers, were 
 dry enough for re-entry. Judith's horse flew without 
 a flick of the whip. Only the little groom, tightly 
 cased in his livery, seemed impervious to the changed 
 beauty of the weather, and sat duty-bound with folded 
 arms, as some grooms would sit during an earth- 
 quake. 
 
 Judith had a mind to make him get down and race 
 her, and only refrained because when the idea occurred 
 to her the white gate of the rectory was already in 
 sight, and Etta with it. 
 
 " How nice of you to come ! " 
 
 " Didn't I promise ? " said Judith. 
 
 " Yes, but some people don't keep their promises," 
 said Etta. " With all those people in the house I was 
 afraid you wouldn't be able to get away. If I were 
 Mr. Blenkenstein " 
 
 " Never mind about him," said Judith quickly, and 
 Etta marveled. Every one at The Ashlands seemed to 
 know and to say that the engagement between Judith 
 and Mr. Blenkenstein was an accomplished thing, not 
 made public yet, merely because it sometimes pleases 
 engaged couples not to make their understanding 
 public immediately, as though it were too big a secret 
 to be intrusted suddenly and entire to a thoughtless 
 world. Etta supposed it was so. She did not greatly 
 care for Mr. Blenkenstein, what she had seen of him. 
 He could not act at all. But he was a big fine-looking 
 man, and very rich and important, Etta under- 
 stood, so that perhaps his acting did not very much 
 matter. 
 
 For Judith, on the other hand, Etta had conceived
 
 194 The Triumph of Mr. Boke 
 
 the strongest regard. She admired her beauty and her 
 acting, and her princess-like bearing which was not 
 only that of a stage princess, but of a born one, and 
 made Etta feel rather a country maid, with a com- 
 plete whole-heartedness, which she made no effort to 
 conceal. 
 
 Etta had not a particle of jealousy about her, but 
 a reckless manner of bestowing her affections. Judith 
 was, in short, the friend she had wanted all her life, 
 so perfectly admirable that one felt oneself the better 
 for just sitting at her feet. 
 
 " Very well. I'll talk of anything you like. Isn't it 
 a lovely day? No, I won't get in. I'll walk beside 
 you. Do tell father that you've noticed that clump of 
 delphiniums on the left. He's fearfully proud of it. 
 Have you heard our news? No! Well, I'll tell you 
 when we get in. Jem ! " 
 
 Jem Mole, who had been restored to his former post, 
 after coming in person and promising to turn over a 
 new leaf in it (a promise he had spoilt somewhat by 
 saying he supposed they " wanted summun anyways, 
 now the Lunnoner had run away." The rector had 
 been very sharp with him for daring to entertain this 
 supposition). Jem Mole, then, came forth in response 
 to this call, and was ordered to show Judith's retainer 
 the coach-house, and look after him generally. 
 
 There was so little time before lunch, which had 
 been specially delayed in honor of Judith's visit, that 
 it was not until they had sat down to it, and the con- 
 versation, after passing from Homer and gardening to 
 recipes for raspberry wine and theatricals, had begun 
 to languish, that Judith bethought herself of what 
 Etta had said, and asked innocently 
 
 " What was the news you were going to tell me? "
 
 The Triumph of Mr. Boke 195 
 
 " It was about our disappearing groom, for a six- 
 pence, Etta ? " said the rector in a sporting mood. 
 
 Etta nodded. 
 
 " A disappearing groom? " said Judith. 
 
 " Who called himself Higginson," said Mrs. War- 
 ley, anxious to bear her part. " But whose real name 
 was, there, Etta, I've forgotten it again." 
 
 " Faviel," said Etta. 
 
 " What name did you say? " If Judith had spoken 
 quickly in reply to Etta's mention of Mr. Blenken- 
 stein, she spoke ten times more quickly now. Nobody 
 but Etta, however, noticed it. 
 
 " Faviel," said the rector. " F A V I E L. 
 A good Norman name, I should say, and one that, for 
 the sake of euphony, I should myself prefer to Hig- 
 ginson. However, for some reason or other, which as 
 yet remains to be found out, the young man, who is, 
 by the way, one of the pleasantest young men I have 
 met, and an excellent groom" (Mr. Warley could 
 not refrain from giving this testimonial), "preferred 
 to adopt the alias, and also to change his profession, 
 which was, I understand, that of a traveler an ex- 
 ploring traveler, I should say, and not what is under- 
 stood as such on what, I believe, is technically known 
 as ' the road ' for that of odd man here. Etta, I 
 see," continued the rector, suddenly called to a con- 
 sideration of other people's feelings in the matter, 
 " is burning to tell you the story herself. So is 
 my wife, ha! May I give you another slice of mut- 
 ton?" 
 
 Judith hardly knew if she had the other slice of 
 mutton or not. She. was eating apple tart before the 
 facts known to the Warleys concerning Mr. Faviel 
 were all before her, and she had recovered her out-
 
 196 The Triumph of Mr. Boke 
 
 ward composure sufficiently to say, in reply to a sudden 
 recollection on the part of the rector, 
 
 " Yes, it was from our house he disappeared. We 
 knew Mr. Faviel quite well. He is very nice." 
 
 It sounded a strange thing to be saying, but Judith 
 said it in the most serene voice. 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Mr. Warley, duly interested by 
 this new item of information. " Every one seems to 
 know our late groom, and to like him. Etta, I be- 
 lieve, was quite in love with him." 
 
 It was one of those jocular remarks of which the 
 maker is the last person to perceive the point. Etta, 
 whom it hit rather unpleasantly, had the misfortune 
 to blush, aware that Judith's eyes were fixed on 
 her. 
 
 " Mr. Faviel seems to have taken a most pleasant 
 situation," said Judith ironically, and Mr. Warley was 
 convinced that she appreciated his humor. 
 
 " One of the most curious things about the whole 
 thing," said Mr. Warley, " is that a friend of Mr. 
 Faviel's, a Mr. Wilton, happened to call here an- 
 other story, as the novelist says in a motor-car which 
 he must have left in his friend's keeping without ever 
 recognizing who he was." 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Warley, " an instance, I should 
 say, of how unobservant most of us are of those who 
 minister to our wants. Our friend's coachman, we 
 say, and scarcely look at him." 
 
 It was after lunch, and when Etta had carried her 
 friend into the garden, that Judith harked back to this 
 point. Etta had had an unpleasant conviction that she 
 would, and recognized almost her own words to Mr. 
 Wilton, when Judith spoke.
 
 The Triumph of Mr. Boke 197 
 
 " It does seem very curious that Mr. Wilton 
 shouldn't have recognized Mr. Faviel." 
 
 "Doesn't it?" said Etta uneasily. 
 
 " Did he say that he didn't recognize him ? " 
 
 " He he didn't say it," said Etta. " At least, not 
 to me. But he he certainly tried to convey the im- 
 pression." She felt a horrible hypocrite. Why Judith 
 wanted to know about it, she had no means of telling; 
 nor why she was so eager. Could it be the idea came 
 quite suddenly could it be that Higginson accounted 
 in some way for Judith's disinclination to talk about 
 Mr. Blenkenstein ? Could there have been something 
 between him and Judith? Was there something still? 
 The idea came all hot to Etta, and explained, or 
 seemed at the moment to explain, the look Judith had 
 thrown her when her father made that silly remark at 
 lunch-time. 
 
 "Of course it was all nonsense what my father 
 said," she burst out precipitately, and wished she 
 hadn't. 
 
 " What was that ? " Judith inquired. 
 
 " About my being in love with Mr. Faviel." 
 
 " Perhaps it was the other way about," said Judith 
 pleasantly, " and Mr. Faviel was in love with you. 
 What a lovely color those lilies are ! " 
 
 Poor Etta was no match for this sort of coolness. 
 She had hoped to be acting kindly by blurting out that 
 information, but it sounded as though there were no 
 subject in the world which possessed less interest for 
 Miss Mallendon than the subject of Higginson. 
 
 "Yes, aren't they?" said Etta, and kept to lilies 
 and such things for the rest of the visitor's stay. 
 
 To Judith, though she was too generous to show it, 
 the conversation, in its new channel, was the most
 
 198 The Triumph of Mr. Boke 
 
 tedious she had ever carried on. Not that she would 
 have returned to the subject of Higginson. She had 
 dismissed it, because she could not bear to hear more 
 of it. She was not jealous. She could not be jealous 
 of this simple, friendly girl, who had sought her for 
 a friend. But supposing it were true that Mr. Faviel 
 had fallen in love with Etta. It would be an easy 
 thing for a man to do, Judith supposed. Etta was 
 pretty and innocent. A man might fall in love with 
 prettiness and innocence surely without any harm 
 done. 
 
 But in that case the man should say so. Perhaps 
 he meant to. Perhaps it was for that he had asked 
 her to meet him. He realized, no doubt, that he had 
 given her, Judith, reason to suppose that, other things 
 being equal, other girls not being more charming, she 
 might expect to hear from him. Here, then, was a 
 charming girl, whom he had somehow lighted on, and 
 he meant to tell her so. No, no, he would not dare. 
 He would have the grace at least not to intrude upon 
 her heart again. She could strike a man who should 
 
 offer such a blow to her pride as that Besides, it 
 
 was not like him. He might be heedless, he was not 
 lacking in all decency. Yet why should he have lived 
 as a servant all this time at the rectory, if there were 
 no such inducement as the rector's daughter? And 
 why, when he had spent a fortnight or more within 
 easy distance of communication, should he have de- 
 layed to communicate with her until now, when the 
 communication was to be made in secret ? 
 
 The irrepressible hopes that had sprung up in 
 Judith's heart faded to nothing, as the afternoon wore 
 on, and she had never felt more hopeless than when 
 she took the reins in her hand for the return journey.
 
 The Triumph of Mr. Boke 199 
 
 As if in sympathy with her mood, the day that had 
 been so bright after the morning's shower had 
 gloomed; and heavy clouds had begun to form in the 
 more distant sky. 
 
 " Almost," said the rector, " like thunder. You're 
 sure you won't wait, and see if it's going to pass 
 over?" 
 
 Judith thanked him and declined, pleading guests 
 to be entertained. 
 
 " I expect I shall get in before the rain comes, 
 anyhow," she said. " Good-by, and you will let me 
 have some of those delphinium seeds, won't you? 
 Good-by, Mrs. Warley, and thank you so much. 
 Farewell, my maid ! " 
 
 " Farewell, princess ! " said Etta, and Judith drove 
 off under cover of an outward show of cheerfulness. 
 The rector remarked that he had rarely seen a more 
 favorable type of the modern young lady, and went 
 off to make a note of " delphinium seeds for Miss 
 Mallendon " in his garden book. 
 
 The rain came on, unluckily, some little time before 
 Judith reached The Ashlands. Unluckily, because her 
 plan of getting out there and letting the groom drive 
 on, since she meant to walk back for the sake of the 
 exercise, was made a good deal less ingenious thereby. 
 It sounded so unlikely that she would want to stroll 
 home by the woods in a driving rain with no umbrella. 
 It added to her humiliations to have to make up such 
 a tale, but since her ingenuity had departed from her 
 with everything else, it seemed and she could think 
 of nothing else to say, she said it with what spirit she 
 could. The groom, being young, ventured on no 
 remonstrance, and only asked if he should send some 
 one with a wrap to meet her, which Judith forbade.
 
 2oo The Triumph of Mr. Boke 
 
 She descended on the road, and waited there till the 
 dogcart had passed the lodge gates. There were two 
 ways into the woods which Mr. Faviel had appointed 
 for the meeting place; one a turning out of The Ash- 
 lands drive, the other a footpath beyond the lodge 
 gates that led through fields into the coverts. Judith 
 chose the latter, in order that she might not encounter 
 any of the Ashlands people. Besides, she was far less 
 likely to meet any one at all on the road at this time 
 (it was getting towards six o'clock) than she was 
 inside the gates. So she thought, and was annoyed 
 to see a young man coming towards her almost as soon 
 as she crossed the stile into the first field. 
 
 He was a young man, whose Sunday clothes rather 
 added to than detracted from his air of disreputability, 
 and he wore his bowler hat at a rakish angle unknown 
 to those parts. It seemed to Judith that she recog- 
 nized him, though where she had seen him before or 
 who he was she could not remember. In any case, he 
 was not a young man with whom she would have 
 wanted any conversation, and she was hurrying on, 
 not displeased to know that he was going in the oppo- 
 site direction, when he stopped dead in front of 
 her. 
 
 " Beg your parding, miss," he said. " But might I 
 arst you to do me a bit of a favor if it ain't botherin' 
 you too much ? " 
 
 " What do you want ? " asked Judith. 
 
 " Why," said the young man, " I wants something 
 which, as our nashernal poet 'appily puts it, waits for 
 no feller, the time miss." 
 
 Judith pulled out her watch, knowing that if it was 
 her watch this unpleasant young man was after, it 
 was too conspicuous in any case to be concealed.
 
 The Triumph of Mr. Boke 201 
 
 " Five minutes to six," she said. She had timed 
 herself to be at the trysting place at the exact time. 
 Since she was bound thither which was the great sub- 
 mission she had determined to be minutely obedient 
 to her instructions. 
 
 " Thank'ee, miss. You 'ave," said the young man, 
 with a flourish of his bowler hat that was in itself an 
 impertinence, " you 'ave, miss, supplied a long-felt 
 want, my own ticker being at the jooler's, which, under 
 the circs, would 'a' been orkid, but for your hoppor- 
 tune arrival. The circs, I may say," he continued 
 Judith remained silent " is that my young woman 
 the gel, in fact, with which I am walkin' hout, prom- 
 ised 'er muvver to do a Sunday School or a Band of 
 'Ope at seven punct, and do it she will. But, naterally, 
 she don't want to cut short our pleasink little jaunt 
 afore dooty calls. I lef the maiden all forlorn under 
 them spreadin' chestnut trees, and to 'er I must 
 return." 
 
 Whereupon, with another flourish, the young man 
 turned and preceded Judith down the path leading to 
 the woods. 
 
 Had he been a more rough-looking man, Judith 
 would have gone on without delay. But his oily im- 
 pudence was so disgusting to her in her present frame 
 of mind, and so likely to be renewed, she fancied, if 
 she gave him the opportunity, that she turned back 
 and got on the road again. If the man's story was 
 true, he and the girl would probably go soon. She 
 strode about impatiently for five minutes, and then, 
 incapable of any more delay, walked swiftly to the 
 woods. She found the glade Mr. Faviel had appointed 
 easily enough, and for a little was consoled for Mr. 
 Faviel's non-appearance by the fact that the young
 
 2O2 The Triumph of Mr. Boke 
 
 man and his girl were not there. She walked to and 
 fro, thinking " He will surely come soon." 
 
 It was a cheerless place, the glade, in that weather. 
 The great trees, thick with summer, dripped heavily, 
 and the black clouds overhead made an early twilight 
 of the scene. Judith in her thin frock, already soaked, 
 began to shiver. She was not conscious of being cold; 
 only of being dully impatient. She looked at her 
 watch every now and then. Twenty minutes past 
 six; five and twenty past; half -past; twenty to seven. 
 She would not look for some time again, and moved 
 up and down under the drenching sky like a cat behind 
 bars. 
 
 Five minutes to seven. For five desperate minutes 
 longer she stayed there; then she turned and went 
 away. 
 
 She had come so swiftly, but she went away with 
 slow steps and a bowed head. She went by the other 
 path, and came out in the drive leading to the house. 
 A man was hurrying down it, with a cloak under his 
 arm, and an umbrella up. 
 
 " Judith ! " said Blenkenstein. " My dear child, but 
 you're wet through. Where have you been ? " 
 
 " I thought I'd walk home," said Judith weakly. 
 ' Your man told me you'd got down in the rain 
 and I've been looking for you ever since. Put this 
 on." 
 
 Blenkenstein's manner, due largely to his anxiety to 
 know if Judith had met Faviel, and if, as a conse- 
 quence, Mr. Boke's plans had miscarried, seemed to 
 her unusually ardent. She submitted to put on the 
 cloak and take his arm. She felt grateful to him for 
 not scolding her or questioning her.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE ARRIVAL OF BUTT 
 
 THE late morning post brought Mr. Blenkenstein a 
 letter while he was strolling with Lady Mallendon, 
 Miss Finch, O'Levin, and Jimmy round the garden 
 before lunch. He looked so radiant when he had 
 opened it that Lady Mallendon, who was engaged in 
 opening a telegram that had come for her at the same 
 time, could not help remarking upon it. 
 
 " Is it good news ? " she said. " I'm not curious to 
 know what it is, of course. But I do like to know 
 that people have received good news. One so seldom 
 does by post. I don't know why, I'm sure. I always 
 write the most hearty letters myself, but I never re- 
 ceive them." 
 
 " Oh, my news is excellent, thank you," said 
 Blenkenstein, " excellent ! " It was indeed a letter 
 from Mr. Boke to say that his plans had not mis- 
 carried. 
 
 " I expect," said Miss Finch, " that Mr. Blenken- 
 stein has made a hundred thousand pounds by buy- 
 ing ruby-mines or something of that sort." Miss 
 Finch was a little vague about financial operations. 
 
 " Only ten thousand," said Blenkenstein, with a 
 significant glance at O'Levin. 
 
 " Sure ? " said the latter, with a frown. 
 
 " Pretty positive," said Blenkenstein. 
 
 "Well, ye don't deserve it," said O'Levin with a
 
 204 The Arrival of Butt 
 
 frown. He could not help guessing what Blenken- 
 stein meant, and regretted more than ever that he had 
 helped him to Faviel's undoing. He ought never to 
 have given that dinner. 
 
 " What this telegram of mine means," said Lady 
 Mallendon, who had succeeded in getting it out of the 
 wrapper " I really don't know can any one tell me. 
 listen ' Mumpers bosh only an old gland uppish, doc 
 says no infection. Coming along to-day if will have 
 me BUTTER.' It sounds most extraordinary." 
 
 " Why, it's young Butt," said Jimmy, not without 
 eagerness. " He's going to come to-day. Probably 
 started." 
 
 " But I thought he was suffering from mumps ? " 
 
 " Don't you see ? he says that was bosh. He's only 
 got swelled up toothache, I dare say." 
 
 " Well, I'm sure that's very nice for you, Jimmy," 
 said Lady Mallendon " if it really isn't infectious. 
 He would arrive this afternoon, wouldn't he? One of 
 Jimmy's greatest friends," she explained at large, 
 " who was supposed to have mumps, but hasn't, it 
 seems. A very nice kind-hearted boy, didn't you say. 
 Jimmy ? " 
 
 " Don't remember saying it," said Jimmy. 
 " Young Butter's all right if you leave him alone and 
 don't ask him to hand tea-cakes and that sort of thing. 
 He doesn't care for women much." 
 
 " I hope he won't make you a misogynist," said 
 Lady Mallendon, a little anxiously. 
 
 " Oh, he doesn't insist upon it for other people." 
 said Jimmy, adding lest Butt's dislike of social life 
 should cause him to be underestimated " He's a jolly 
 good place-kick." 
 
 " Oh, that is nice," said Lady Mallendon.
 
 The Arrival of Butt 205 
 
 " And plays for the second," said Jimmy im- 
 pressively. 
 
 " Bit of a sportsman, then," said O'Levin. 
 
 " Do you think," said Lady Mallendon, who liked 
 to consult the tastes of her guests, " that he would 
 like to play for the second here? I don't quite know 
 what playing for the second is," she added hastily, 
 observing Jimmy's brows lower. 
 
 " It's ' Rugger ' in this case," said Jimmy shortly. 
 
 " I thought," said Lady Mallendon, " that it might 
 be something like tip-cat. There is a set of tip-cat 
 you used to play with, Jimmy, up in the box-room. 
 I'm sure it's there, because Mrs. Rogers asked me, 
 only the other day, what she should do with it. We 
 could get it out if you think Butt would enjoy a 
 game." 
 
 " Look here, mater," said Jimmy, coloring, from 
 consciousness that O'Levin's features were preter- 
 naturally taut and strained, " if you'll leave young 
 Butter to me, it'll be all right. Otherwise, I can't 
 answer for him." 
 
 " Very well," said Lady Mallendon submissively, 
 " just as you please. I only thought 
 
 " Yes, I know," said Jimmy, " but you needn't 
 bother to." 
 
 O'Levin good-naturedly started a brisk conversation 
 at this point with Miss Finch, thus saving Jimmy's 
 feelings, always liable to be adversely affected when 
 his mother made mistakes, as she generally did, in 
 school and sporting matters, particularly if other peo- 
 ple were present. 
 
 Butt arrived in time for tea, and turned out to be 
 a boy of Jimmy's age and height, but heavily built, 
 with a large head and a persecuted look, which, at
 
 206 The Arrival of Butt 
 
 sight of the large numbers of people he was expected 
 to confront, increased to a positively hounded expres- 
 sion. Lady Mallendon, who had been looking up a 
 school-list and had discovered his Christian name to 
 be Augustus, completed his discomfiture by address- 
 ing him under this title. 
 
 " If I'd known," he gloomily remarked to Jimmy 
 after tea, " that you had all these people stopping here, 
 I wouldn't have come." 
 
 " They don't matter," said Jimmy, " we don't have 
 to see any more of them than we want to. Some of 
 them aren't bad, you know, if you take them in the 
 right way. Let's go and fish now." 
 
 A couple of hours at this manly and sequestered 
 sport, rewarded as they were by several roach and a 
 bream weighing over a pound, restored Butt's spirits 
 sufficiently to admit of his making up for what he had 
 lost at tea during the dinner hour. Jimmy had had 
 the foresight to place his friend between himself and 
 Judith with a request to Judith not to worry him, and 
 with the result that much to his own surprise Butt 
 found himself chatting quite affably before the meal 
 was halfway through. Judith showed an amazing 
 intelligence in listening to accounts of matches, of the 
 mean advantages taken by masters against boys of a 
 modest but not energetic temperament, and of the 
 triumphant retaliations sometimes effected by the gen- 
 tle victims upon their tyrants. 
 
 The conversation was a relief to Butt, and it was 
 also a relief to Judith, inasmuch as it saved her from 
 having to listen perpetually to her right-hand neigh- 
 bor, Mr. Blenkenstein. She had scarcely spoken with 
 him since he met her in the drive the evening before, 
 and it was her one desire not to be hurried into break-
 
 The Arrival of Butt 207 
 
 ing the silver silence. Sometime, she knew, she would 
 have to speak and answer him. It was expected of 
 her and rightly. But she wanted to delay till the last 
 inevitable moment. She had given up thought of Mr. 
 Faviel, or thought she had. She had no desire to 
 explain his absence from the glade; she was content 
 to accept it, as something that fate had brought about 
 for the best. They were not destined to see one 
 another and speak with one another, it seemed : and it 
 was well. She kept her thoughts to herself, and felt 
 almost a mild hilarity in Butt's conversation. That 
 youth admitted to Jimmy that his cousin was one of 
 the decentest girls he'd ever met. 
 
 Judith further impressed the unsusceptible Butt on 
 the morning of the following day, Tuesday, when 
 three times in five minutes she bowled him out at 
 Jimmy's private nets at the far end of the lawn 
 with a medium to fast over-arm ball that had no sus- 
 picion of a chuck in it. 
 
 " You keep a jolly good length," said Butt, aston- 
 ished, as his center stump went down for the third 
 time. 
 
 " I'm afraid I shouldn't come off in a match," said 
 Judith modestly. 
 
 " Well, of course, match-play is rather different," 
 Butt admitted. " Girls haven't got the nerve for it as 
 a rule. Shall I give you a few balls, now ? " 
 
 " No, thank you," said Judith. " I'm quite useless 
 at batting, and I should funk you, I'm sure." 
 
 " I don't know. I'm not so fast. Still I shouldn't 
 like to hurt you," Butt said. " I wish my cousins were 
 as good as you. I should get some practice, if they 
 were. I dare say you can sprint a bit," he added, with 
 a dispassionate admiration of Judith's figure.
 
 208 The Arrival of Butt 
 
 She laughingly admitted that she could a little, and 
 covered her shyness at Master Butt's undisguised com- 
 pliments by asking what he and Jimmy were going to 
 do that afternoon. 
 
 " Going for a walk," said Jimmy, and intimated by 
 a wink at his friend that no further confidence need 
 be exchanged. 
 
 The walk upon which Jimmy had decided was one 
 which he had had in mind for two or three days past. 
 It will be remembered that in escaping from Mr. Dunt, 
 he had of necessity to throw away the comparatively 
 new weapon which had occasioned the farmer's ire. 
 Jimmy had cast it with a good deal of care behind a 
 hedge with a view to future discovery. He had not 
 so far gone back after it, partly because there was a 
 chance of re-encountering the farmer, which, alone 
 and unaided, was not to be risked, partly because the 
 carter, whose horse and cart still stood in Sir Jasper's 
 stable, might also be waiting about there. 
 
 It was a curious thing that nobody had come to 
 inquire about them or the wardrobe and Jimmy had 
 begun to think that he could not have been spotted 
 going off with it, as he had supposed in the first 
 instance to be the case. At The Ashlands his connec- 
 tion with them had not been suspected. A good many 
 theatrical properties and various luggage had arrived 
 at about the same time, and the wardrobe was sup- 
 posed to have been forwarded by mistake. The coach- 
 man had asked Sir Jasper if he was to go on feeding 
 the horse, and Sir Jasper had replied, " Certainly, until 
 it was fetched." 
 
 It had not been fetched, and Jimmy had a curiosity 
 to revisit the scene of his highway robbery. With 
 Butt as an ally it could be done in comparative safety,
 
 The Arrival of Butt 209 
 
 for the two of them together Jimmy argued could 
 at least outwit the farmer or the carter, even if they 
 could not oppose them by brute strength. Butt was 
 of opinion the latter could be tried with good prospect 
 of success, and was disposed to vote for hand-to-hand 
 contest. They started out, finally, with catapults for 
 skirmishing with, and a stout piece of rope, which 
 could, Jimmy thought, be used primarily as a lasso, and 
 secondarily to bind the hands and legs of any captive 
 that might turn up. It was wound round Butt's body, 
 and made him a conspicuous object. 
 
 Jimmy led the way. He had not succeeded in 
 striking the same bargain with his mother as on the 
 previous occasion, Lady Mallendon arguing, with jus- 
 tice, that Augustus's companionship made a walk less 
 of a tedious affair, and therefore of less pecuniary 
 value than a solitary one. Two shillings were ex- 
 tracted, in case they should stop out to tea, but Lady 
 Mallendon almost wished they wouldn't. She felt re- 
 sponsible, she said, for Augustus. What would she 
 say to Augustus's parents if anything ill befell him? 
 She should certainly be anxious until they returned. 
 
 Jimmy then led the way to Farmer Dunt's fields, but 
 except that, a little later on, he received an idea that 
 was destined to bear fruit in quite an unexpected 
 fashion, nothing occurred to justify Lady Mallendon's 
 anxiety. Butt did, indeed, the day being a warm one, 
 develop a kind of rash from wearing the rope round 
 his body, but a bathe in the stream where Jimmy had 
 tethered his cart-horse on the previous expedition 
 remedied this. When they came eventually to the base 
 of operations, Farmer Dunt, luckily for himself per- 
 haps, was not there, and Jimmy and Butt, having 
 recovered the gun, the stick cover of which had pre-
 
 2io The Arrival of Butt 
 
 served it from rain and dew, had shots at the scare- 
 crow undisturbed. 
 
 The idea, to which reference has been made, oc- 
 curred to Jimmy on the way home, and at that very 
 same inn from which Jimmy had abstracted the cart. 
 
 He and Butt had entered, partly from curiosity, 
 partly for tea, and, as it chanced, the bar parlor con- 
 tained, besides the landlady, two persons who have 
 already played parts in this history. One was the 
 pink-faced man, and the other was Police-Constable 
 Bigstock. They were, though Jimmy did not at once 
 gather it, discussing his own misdeed. 
 
 " The curiousest thing I've ever heer'd on," Mrs. 
 Cleavin was saying, as the boys entered. " Quite the 
 curiousest. Why, I do declare, and here be Master 
 Mallendon, come for some of my cider, I dare say." 
 
 Jimmy had patronized the inn at the cross-roads 
 before now, and so had Sir Jasper; and Mrs. Cleavin 
 knew The Ashlands. 
 
 " How d'you do, Mrs. Cleavin? " said Jimmy cheer- 
 fully. " Fine day, Sergeant?" 
 
 " It be," said Mr. Bigstock, gratified by the title. 
 
 " We will have some cider," Jimmy continued, seat- 
 ing himself on a settle with Butt. " Two pints, please, 
 Mrs. Cleavin, and some cake, if you've got any. 
 What's the most curious thing you ever heard of? " 
 
 " Why," said Mrs. Cleavin, to whom the idea of 
 Jimmy and the boy whom Farmer Dunt had described 
 in wrathful language as a " ragging-muffing," being 
 one and the same, never occurred. " Why, rightly 
 speaking, there's two things that's the queerest a body 
 ever could 'a' believed, and one's the vanishing of a 
 man called what is't the parson's groom's named, Mr. 
 Bigstock?"
 
 The Arrival of Butt 211 
 
 " Farrell," said Mr. Bigstock, " is 'is rightful name, 
 but Higginson is what he calls hisself." 
 
 " Farrell," repeated Mrs. Cleavin. " He's one of 
 the things. Clean gone like a ghost he has. And the 
 other's a hoss an' cart and wardrobe driv' by this man 
 here " she indicated the pink-faced man " clean run 
 away to goodness on'y knows where, though Mr. Big- 
 stock, I dare say, '11 show us." 
 
 Jimmy, to whom the name of Farrell conveyed little, 
 was fully aware that the second mystery was one of 
 his own working. He kicked Butt on the shins to 
 admonish him what was up, and asked, innocently, 
 
 " How did the cart get run away with ? " 
 
 " Well, I expect Mr. Bigstock '11 tell 'ee, if ye ask 
 'im," said Mrs. Cleavin " while I'm 'a getting of 
 they cakes." 
 
 " Do let's hear, Sergeant," said Jimmy, in a coaxing 
 voice. 
 
 Mr. Bigstock complied with the request in a dig- 
 nified way. The second mysterious disappearance had 
 only been divulged to him on his return from the 
 Langston Bucket rectory on Saturday : owing to the 
 fact that the proprietor of the " Sow and Pigs " had 
 up to then hourly expected the return of his horse and 
 cart. As, however, it had not turned up, and the 
 pink-faced man, in spite of being threatened with dis- 
 missal, had persisted in his story that it had been 
 driven off by some invisible agency, and that he 
 couldn't find it though he had been everywhere he 
 could think of, the proprietor had been reluctantly 
 compelled to put the matter into the hands of the 
 police. But for the fact that it gave him a good deal 
 of importance, and could also be treated in a more 
 high-minded manner than the first, the second mystery
 
 212 The Arrival of Butt 
 
 would have driven Mr. Bigstock distracted. Nothing 
 like either of them had ever before been heard of in 
 Waybury, and Mr. Bigstock felt that if he failed to 
 unravel them, at least there would be no successful 
 precedent to make his failure inglorious. The pink- 
 faced man was as wax in his hands unlike Miss 
 Faviel and consented to all manner of cross-exam- 
 ination and theories involving sudden pounces upon 
 the most unlikely places without a murmur. Mr. Big- 
 stock's presence with the pink-faced man at the present 
 moment was due to the fact that it had seemed to him 
 good to visit the scene of the disaster and take his 
 bearings from there. His latest theory was that the 
 cart had been run away with by the horse, and the 
 horse only, and was to be found in some chalk-pit near 
 the inn. 
 
 " In which case, of course," Mr. Bigstock said to 
 the pink-faced man, " you'll be liable to pay damages, 
 Sam." 
 
 " I ain't," said the pink-faced miserably, " got no 
 damages to pay. Mr. Jopper he ain't even paid me 
 my week's wages says he won't, neither, till it's 
 found." 
 
 " Well, you ain't married, luckily," said Mr. Big- 
 stock. " So I dare say you'll be able to pay it off at 
 two shillings a week." 
 
 The pink-faced man breathed heavily at this pros- 
 pect, but said nothing, and Jimmy's conscience smote 
 him. He resolved to make amends. 
 
 " It's a funny thing," he said, giving Butt another 
 admonishing kick, " but our coachman, up at The Ash- 
 lands, you know, was talking only to-day of a horse 
 and cart that he'd got in the stables, and didn't know 
 where they'd come from; did he, Butt? "
 
 The Arrival of Butt 213 
 
 " No," said Butt, giving loyal support. " Thought 
 they might have strayed." 
 
 " Hoss with one white sock an' two patches on 'is 
 off side ? " asked the pink- faced man eagerly. 
 
 " I believe so," said Jimmy, and Butt nodded. 
 
 " Then that's 'im," said the pink-faced man, 
 beaming. 
 
 "Wait a bit!" said Mr. Bigstock. "Don't you 
 jump to conclusions, Sam ! It might be, an' it might 
 not be. I allow," said Bigstock, with a happy and 
 accommodating stretch of the imagination, " that I had 
 a theory that the hoss might 'a' strayed that way. 
 There's a wheeltrack goin' that way as I noticed, upon 
 comin' in here. In fac', I made a note on it. There 
 it is." Mr. Bigstock produced his notebook and 
 pointed to a pencil-mark on one of the pages. " I 
 were a-goin' to follow that there track as far as The 
 Ashlands, examinin' chalk-pits on the way. So if it 
 turns out as the hoss an' cart is there, that there theory 
 of mine'll be justified. But don't you jump to con- 
 clusions, Sam. It's only a theory of mine, mind, and 
 I don't say nothink for certain as yit." 
 
 " Was there a wardrobe too ? " asked the pink- faced 
 man, who seemed to be less damped by Mr. Bigstock's 
 caution than he had hitherto been. 
 
 " Yes, there was," said Jimmy. 
 
 " To think oft," said Mrs. Cleavin, who had in the 
 meanwhile returned. " How it could 'a' got there 
 all that distance? Flown, I dare say. I would never 
 'a' believed it never." 
 
 : ' You ain't been trained, ma'am," explained Mr. 
 Bigstock, " not to foller a clue." 
 
 "That's true," said Mrs. Cleavin, "I ain't, but 
 there, the queerest thing about it all still to my mind,
 
 214 The Arrival of Butt 
 
 is why you never haven't heerd a word from the 
 genel'man, if genel'man you kin call 'im, as the 
 wardrobe belongs to. Why ain't he applied to you, 
 Mr. Bigstock? To hear 'im you'd 'a' thought, when 
 that there wardrobe vanished, there was a diamond 
 neckless inside of it." 
 
 " You would," the pink-faced man agreed. 
 
 " You can't argy from that," said Mr. Bigstock. 
 
 " There isn't anything inside, anyhow," said Jimmy, 
 who had examined the wardrobe. 
 
 "What did I say?" said Mr. Bigstock. "You 
 wouldn't not if you was trained you wouldn't ex- 
 pect anything to be inside a wardrobe which had just 
 been bought at a second-'and shop." 
 
 " The very same shop, wasn't it," said Mrs. Cleavin, 
 " as the young man vanished from ? " 
 
 Mr. Bigstock nodded. 
 
 " How was that ? " asked Jimmy. 
 
 Mr. Bigstock told this story also, but in such a 
 rambling manner that for Jimmy unacquainted with 
 the facts there was no suggestion of Faviel in it. It 
 was an interesting story, however, and appealed to 
 Jimmy's imagination. 
 
 " I suppose," he said suddenly, having just finished 
 the cake Mrs. Cleavin had provided, " that groom- 
 fellow couldn't possibly have been in the wardrobe 
 when it was bought? " 
 
 Mr. Bigstock shook his head over such an amateur 
 suggestion. 
 
 " I thort of it," he said. " We have to think of 
 everything. But it wouldn't do. He'd be there now, 
 if he'd got in." 
 
 " He might have got out," said Jimmy. " It might 
 explain why this other man at Hanging Coppice,
 
 The Arrival of Butt 
 
 didn't you say? was in such a rage at losing it, and 
 didn't like to apply to you, eh? " 
 
 Mrs. Cleavin was rather taken by the suggestion, 
 which made Mr. Bigstock reject it the more crushingly. 
 
 " You can fit anything up to a p'int," he said. " But 
 to the perfess'nal detective it ain't wuth considera- 
 tion." 
 
 Jimmy, in spite of, or perhaps because of, Mr. Big- 
 stock's positiveness, thought the contrary, and in- 
 stantly formed the germ of a plan for going up to 
 Hanging Coppice and examining into its inhabitants. 
 It was only a small germ, however, and he forgot it on 
 the way home, accompanied as he and Butt were by 
 Mr. Bigstock and the pink-faced man, at Mr. Big- 
 stock's request. 
 
 Things needed a little managing when they did 
 reach The Ashlands, but by putting Mr. Bigstock in 
 communication with the coachman, and through him 
 with Sir Jasper, and thereafter discreetly disappearing 
 with Butt, Jimmy contrived to effect that the pro- 
 prietor of the " Sow and Pigs " should be put into 
 possession of his lost cart and horse without any fur- 
 ther light being thrown upon the cause of their dis- 
 appearance. He would have liked to tip the pink-faced 
 man, but it was impossible under the circumstances, 
 and he had to abandon the idea. 
 
 Later on in the evening Jimmy learned from his 
 father that Mr. Bigstock had requested permission for 
 the wardrobe to remain where it was, until the owner 
 should have been made acquainted with its where- 
 abouts.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 O'LEVIN INSINUATES 
 
 MR. BLENKENSTEIN hardly knew whether to be 
 pleased with the progress of his affairs or not. On 
 the one hand, they had gone satisfactorily enough. 
 His antagonist was a captive in his hands, or, to be 
 exact, in the hands of his agent; and, so far as could 
 be judged, likely to remain so for the four days that 
 still remained to complete the period of the wager. 
 
 The thought of that was amazingly gratifying. He 
 had never believed at first that luck would help him 
 to be sure not only of winning the 10,000, but also 
 of keeping Faviel away from the Mallendons for 
 a full month. One or other he had hoped for not 
 both. Yet both seemed certainties now, and certainties 
 that would be brought off not by luck, but by his 
 own cleverness. He had done some clever things be- 
 fore now, but never one so clever as this. Except for 
 that first slip of trying to have Faviel arrested at the 
 start, he had made no mistake. Fortune had been 
 against him more often than not, but he had got 
 the better of fortune. It was all his own thought to 
 capture Faviel, and not give him the letter that would 
 prove him the loser until the month was out. 
 
 There was nothing in the rules the Committee had 
 drawn up to make that dishonest. Some of them 
 might not think it sporting, but they could not object 
 to it. So long as he Blenkenstein saw to it that 
 
 216
 
 O'Levin Insinuates 217 
 
 Faviel received the letter in good time, nothing else 
 mattered; and he had made sure that Faviel should 
 receive it in good time by having him locked up and 
 guarded in a place where at any moment the letter 
 could be delivered to him. By that same means he 
 had also made sure that there would be no more inter- 
 views between Faviel and Miss Mallendon. 
 
 The actual mill had been Boke's selection, but the 
 idea had been his his own. It was a stroke of genius 
 to have him tied up there as good as spoiled of 
 10,000 and yet stopped from worrying anybody 
 but Boke and Coppenwell. Just at first, Blenkenstein 
 had been tempted to give him the letter (thereby 
 winning the 10,000 straight off) and still keep him 
 in the mill. A fool would have done so even 
 an ordinary sensible man might have succumbed to 
 the thought of clearing all that money beyond any 
 shadow of doubt. But if he had done so, he would 
 either have had to let Faviel go or have had to 
 risk an action later. So long as the wager was on, 
 and the money technically unwon, nothing he did 
 would be actionable. He was entitled to hold up Fa- 
 viel till the letter was delivered to him. He could 
 easily profess later supposing the facts came to Miss 
 Mallendon's ears, and no doubt some of Faviel's 
 friends would try to make the most of them that, in 
 keeping back the letter to the last moment, he was 
 really acting in Faviel's interests giving the poor 
 chap a chance. He didn't want to win all his worldly 
 possessions not he. He had rather hoped Faviel 
 would escape was certain he could have done so in 
 Faviel's place. 
 
 Blenkenstein could almost hear himself explaining 
 this to Miss Mallendon later, putting Faviel in such
 
 2i 8 O'Levin Insinuates 
 
 a ridiculous light that even his friends would not be 
 able to defend him. Yes it had been a fine idea. 
 
 In another direction, too, things looked rosy enough. 
 Miss Mallendon was distinctly more approachable than 
 she had been a week before. The reserve, that had 
 amounted almost to coolness, was changed for a sub- 
 dued friendliness much more to Blenkenstein's mind. 
 He did not want a demonstrative bride ; demonstrative 
 people were apt to become a nuisance. He could do all 
 the demonstration that was needed, and there wasn't 
 very much needed. All he desired was a wife he could 
 be proud of who was proud, but who wouldn't be 
 proud towards him. Therefore the suggestion of al- 
 most humility that was visible in Miss Mallendon at 
 present pleased him. He did not object to see her 
 subdued, for while he understood it was due in part 
 to the injury done to her pride by Faviel's failure to 
 meet her on that Sunday evening, he felt that ulti- 
 mately it was he, Blenkenstein, who had subdued her 
 by causing the tryst to fail. All this, therefore, was 
 very satisfactory to him. 
 
 On the other hand, she had not been rendered so 
 completely defenseless that he could with perfect cer- 
 tainty end the siege, so to speak, by storm. Once or 
 twice, when he had gone near to proposing for the 
 second time, a flash of the old spirit had reappeared, 
 and she had intimated that she would like the period 
 of the armistice to be observed as literally as possible. 
 That meant he was not to ask her finally until Satur- 
 day. The fortnight she had aske'd for came to an 
 end then. The month fixed for the wager came to an 
 end on the same day at midnight. It was running 
 things rather fine, but he would not have to wait to 
 make his proposal until midnight. Some time in the
 
 O'Levin Insinuates 219 
 
 course of the day when the confounded charity en- 
 tertainment was over, perhaps he would do it, and 
 Faviel could be released just in time to know that he 
 was too late. There was something particularly pleas- 
 ant to think over in that. 
 
 Still, it did rather annoy Blenkenstein that he must 
 postpone his triumph to the last minute. Another 
 thing that annoyed him was O'Levin's behavior. 
 O'Levin had come up to him on Tuesday evening after 
 dinner and insisted on settling his debts. O'Levin 
 had been rather vicious for some days towards Blen- 
 kenstein, considering that he owed him money, and 
 Blenkenstein had explained, with his own particular 
 delicacy, that debts and liberties didn't match. He 
 had not supposed O'Levin had the money to pay him 
 with, but somehow the man had raised it. Blenken- 
 stein had thereupon tried to laugh off the pay- 
 ment. 
 
 "I don't want it, confound it!" he said. "Any 
 time'll do, you know." 
 
 " I don't want it either," said O'Levin. " Tis one 
 o' the paradoxes of me bright career that I never do 
 want money excepting when I haven't got any. So 
 take it, Blink, me boy, and be grateful. 'Tisn't a for- 
 tune, but ye may need it to pay off your own debts 
 at the end of the week." 
 
 "What do you mean?" said Blenkenstein. 
 
 " The ten thousand, sure, that ye put on the wager." 
 
 " I'm hoping Faviel's going to pay me that." 
 
 " Are ye, now? " said O'Levin. " I expect Faviel's 
 hoping that same. Ye don't seem to have got him 
 yet, and d'ye know I met Maxhaven the other day? 
 Ye remimber him, don't ye? A long American he 
 dined with us that night."
 
 22O O'Levin Insinuates 
 
 " Yes; what about him? " 
 
 " Why, by chance," said O'Levin, " he went down 
 into the country so he tells me by the same train 
 as Faviel; a train starting at 12:2." 
 
 " That's when Faviel started, is it? " said Blenken- 
 stein, with affected interest. 
 
 " Didn't ye know it? " said O'Levin. " Maxhaven 
 told me that he got out at a bit of a wayside station, 
 and was set on by a troop of fellows that were looking, 
 it seemed, for Faviel. Thought they'd got him, in 
 fact. They'd also started by the 12 :2." 
 
 Blenkenstein inwardly anathematized Mr. Boke for 
 not informing him who it was that he had attacked. 
 Outwardly, however, he affected to be highly amused. 
 
 " I didn't hear of that," he said. " My men, of 
 course they were my men," (Blenkenstein thought it 
 safest, under the circumstances, not to deny this) 
 " lost sight of Faviel altogether that night. Never told 
 me they went for the American, though." 
 
 " Pretty sharp work, starting by the 12 :2, wasn't 
 it?" said O'Levin. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," said Blenkenstein coolly. " I 
 took every precaution, of course. Had men on the 
 lookout at all the principal stations from twelve punc- 
 tually. Smart work, if you like." 
 
 " Very," said O'Levin. The time of the train's 
 starting was, as he knew, Faviel's weak point, should 
 he think of claiming a foul. It was practically impos- 
 sible that Blenkenstein should not have anticipated the 
 time; but it would be hard to prove that he had. 
 
 " So ye didn't get on to the track, anyway ? " he 
 said sarcastically, hoping to learn if Blenkenstein had 
 been more successful recently. 
 
 " No," said Blenkenstein.
 
 O'Levin Insinuates 221 
 
 "But ye've done so since?" O'Levin now forced 
 his question direct. 
 
 " Well," said Blenkenstein, " you'll see in the course 
 of time. I don't know that it would be quite safe to 
 enter into all details with a man who's obviously not 
 on my side in what I imagined was a straightforward, 
 unprejudiced wager." 
 
 With which cut at O'Levin, Blenkenstein took his 
 departure. He had to go up to town on some rather 
 important business connected with the Imperial Cities 
 Exchange, Limited, and was not sorry for the obliga- 
 tion. Absence might lend an enchantment to the view 
 of him in Judith's eyes which his presence did not 
 seem to do. Moreover, he would escape those imbecile 
 rehearsals, and O'Levin's impertinent fooleries at 
 them. 
 
 " Yes, I'm afraid I shall have to stop the night, if 
 not two," he said to Lady Mallendon, who was hos- 
 pitably anxious to know about when he was to be 
 expected back. " I doubt if I shall be able to get back 
 to-morrow, because I have to see a man rather late in 
 the evening. It's a nuisance, because I should be free 
 to come down after lunch, otherwise; and one doesn't 
 want to kick one's heels in London from twelve to 
 eight." 
 
 " No, of course not," said Lady Mallendon sym- 
 pathetically. " I do wish you could put it off. But, 
 if you can't, and really have nothing to do but I 
 don't know that I ought to trouble you " 
 
 " If there's anything I can do," said Blenkenstein, 
 " I shall be happy, you know." 
 
 " Well," said Lady Mallendon, upon whom the cares 
 of the forthcoming entertainment were beginning to 
 tell, " it is very kind of you, and, if you really don't
 
 222 O'Levin Insinuates 
 
 mind, it would be of the greatest assistance. It's 
 rather a delicate matter. At least, I do not know that 
 it's delicate, but it might be, because the man is a 
 Chinaman, and you never know at least, I don't think 
 I should ever know if I was understanding what he 
 said to me, or if he was understanding what I said to 
 him. That is the worst of pidgin English, which 
 seems to me a great mistake, though I dare say it helps 
 people in China to understand, more or less, what is 
 meant, and is better than simple gesticulations. Only 
 I don't even know if he talks pidgin English, and that 
 is really what I want to find out before he comes, and 
 also what he would like to eat, while he is here, as 
 the servants might not be able to serve it up at a mo- 
 ment's notice, and then, if he got sulky or ill, and 
 couldn't do his tricks or wouldn't at the last mo- 
 ment, when his name is down on the programme; 
 rather a catch, Jimmy says, as he's sure to be good 
 at whatever tricks he does, and I'm sure I hope none 
 of them are vulgar. As I was saying, if he refused 
 to do them, it would be so very awkward. I thought 
 of not asking him, but Jimmy insisted, and said that 
 I had promised, so I had to." 
 
 "Who is it?" asked Blenkenstein, hoping he had 
 not let himself in for anything very troublesome. 
 
 " A Chinese conjurer. A a friend," said Lady 
 Mallendon, " asked me to employ him, as he is so very 
 clever. Chy Bang or Kung or Ling. I really forget 
 which his name is. It's quite a simple one for a China- 
 man, and I suppose it would be sufficient to address 
 him as Mr. Bang, or whatever it is. He must under- 
 stand some English, don't you think, if he has been 
 performing at a music hall? He may, of course, be 
 Prince Bang, for all one knows, but, really, if a man
 
 O'Levin Insinuates 223 
 
 does tricks at a music hall, he cannot mind if one does 
 not realize these distinctions." 
 
 " You want me to find out if he understands 
 English?" 
 
 " If you could," said Lady Mallendon. " I wrote to 
 him about Saturday, and he replied in quite a nice 
 letter, mentioning his terms and his tricks and all that 
 quite clearly; but then he may have got some one to 
 write for him. I can't help thinking that he did, 
 because I wrote to him again, saying he had better 
 come down by the 9 130 on Saturday, so that he could 
 have lunch before the fete begins, and his letter, which 
 has just arrived, is so full of blots that I cannot make 
 head or tail of it. It may be that he shut it up when 
 it was wet; or, perhaps, on the other hand, they are 
 not blots but Chinese characters, which he assumes that 
 I understand, though why he should I can't think. If 
 Sir Jasper were in, I could consult him about it, but 
 he's gone out for the whole day, I expect. He does 
 so dislike all these preparations, and I hardly know 
 whether he or our gardener is more easily upset by 
 them." 
 
 " Well, I don't altogether blame them," said Blen- 
 kenstein bluffly. " Charity doesn't pay, you know, 
 when one's got to run the whole affair. Not business, 
 eh? But if that's all you want, I can easily enough 
 find out. I'll send one of my clerks round to the fel- 
 low, if you'll give me his address." 
 
 " Here it is," said Lady Mallendon, handing him a 
 slip of paper with the address on, " and thank you so 
 much. If your clerk could ask him what he fancies? 
 I thought fricassee of chicken would do, if the chicken 
 is not a sacred bird in China, and, of course, there 
 will be heaps of things to choose from besides. Only
 
 224 O'Levin Insinuates 
 
 Jimmy said that they would only eat something stran- 
 gled, and in that case he must bring it with him, for 
 I cannot expect any of the servants to strangle any- 
 thing, even if I could permit it." 
 
 Blenkenstein, who took Jimmy's humor as seriously 
 as did Lady Mallendon, and by no means so respect- 
 fully, said it was merely another case of Jimmy's 
 ignorance, and soothed Lady Mallendon's feelings as 
 hostess at the expense of her maternal ones. He gave 
 it as his opinion that a Chinaman would eat anything, 
 and that Lady Mallendon needn't worry about him in 
 the least. 
 
 " Well, I won't, then," she said. " Only, as we're 
 going to charge a shilling entrance to his tent, I should 
 like him to be at his best. And would you please tell 
 him that if he's going to bring rabbits out of hats, 
 there are plenty of hats here Sir Jasper has at least 
 twenty of his own but he'd better use his own rab- 
 bits; and I should prefer him not to bring any ser- 
 pents, as they are always dangerous when they escape, 
 and we do not want any accidents."
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 COLONEL GLEMMY SUSPECTS MR. COPPENWELL 
 
 THE name of Colonel Glemmy has not hitherto been 
 mentioned in this narrative, for the reason that 
 hitherto Colonel Glemmy has not been of any impor- 
 tance. But since Colonel Glemmy was, unwittingly, 
 to be of assistance to Mr. Faviel a couple of nights 
 later, and enters the story naturally at this point, a 
 few words may not be spent on him in vain. 
 
 Important in his own sphere Colonel Glemmy un- 
 doubtedly was. No meager part of the county be- 
 longed to him : upon his nod the fate of many humble 
 people depended. 
 
 A man so great may do as he pleases, and it 
 pleased Colonel Glemmy to look after his property in 
 as personal a manner as was consistent with its size, 
 and to dress as an under-gardener while so employed. 
 He was a small man with a dignified nose, and aris- 
 tocratic-looking, it might be said, from his finger-tips 
 to the cuffs of his jacket. There the under-gardener 
 began. Strangers to the estate often mistook his rank, 
 which may account for why so shrewd a young man 
 as Mr. Coppenwell mistook it upon the day on which 
 Mr. Blenkenstein went up to town and Sir Jasper fled 
 from the preparations going on in his house for the 
 fete on Saturday. But this is to anticipate. 
 
 Colonel Glemmy's mansion was situated not far 
 from The Ashlands, and his estate comprised that dis- 
 
 225
 
 226 Colonel Glemmy Suspects Mr. Coppenwell 
 
 trict of wood and upland heath which is bounded on 
 the north by Storton Hill, and on the south by Hang- 
 ing Coppice. 
 
 From his mansion to that southern part of his estate 
 Colonel Glemmy set forth on foot after breakfast on 
 Wednesday morning. He had returned from one of 
 our Welsh spas one of those places where rheu- 
 matism can be cured without the necessity of learning 
 a foreign language on the Monday previous. On the 
 Tuesday he had been through matters concerning the 
 estate with his agent, and had learnt, not without 
 some passing indignation, that the agent had let the 
 mill at Hanging Coppice for three months to a retired 
 sea-captain. 
 
 " Eh, mill, mill, mill ? " Colonel Glemmy had said. 
 " Let it ? Let the mill ? Let the mill to a retired sea- 
 captain? What?" 
 
 The agent explained that a fair offer had been made 
 for that very useless structure, and that there was 
 some prospect, if the sea-captain cared for it, and the 
 colonel cared to grant his permission, of an offer being 
 made for the tenancy of the mill for some considerable 
 period. " Of course, it's out of repair and absolutely 
 isolated. Nobody, I imagine, but an old sailor would 
 dream of inhabiting it," said the agent. " But he gave 
 very respectable references wanted it in a hurry 
 took his fancy you know thought the view from it 
 rather like the sea so I risked letting him have it for 
 three months without bothering you about it." 
 
 " Well, well," said Colonel Glemmy. ""Well." 
 
 The agent had presumed upon his employer's well- 
 known love of striking a bargain, however small, in 
 letting the mill; and probably had Mr. Boke been a 
 retired sea-captain, without companions, all would
 
 Colonel Glemmy Suspects Mr. Coppenwell 227 
 
 have been well. Unfortunately, Colonel Glemmy's 
 head keeper, whom he interviewed after his agent, had 
 a complaint to make. 
 
 "What, what?" said Colonel Glemmy. "Heard 
 shots at Hanging Coppice. Shots ? " 
 
 " Yess'r. Two or three times." 
 
 "What's the meaning of it?" demanded Colonel 
 Glemmy. 
 
 " Why, sir," said the keeper, " I don't go and say 
 it for certain, 'cos, though we've watched, we ain't 
 been able to detect them ; but it's my opinion, sir, that 
 those sailors as have got the old mill there keep a 
 gun between them." 
 
 " Gun ! " said Colonel Glemmy. " Sailors ! How 
 many sailors ? " 
 
 " Three o' them, sir." 
 
 "And a gun? What? One gun? What?" 
 
 " Not more'n one, I should say, sir." 
 
 " One gun and three sailors ha ! " said Colonel 
 Glemmy, frowning. " Three sailors ha ! " 
 
 Having thus fixed the estimated number of the 
 sailors and the guns securely in his brain, Colonel 
 Glemmy dismissed his keeper, and decided to look the 
 matter up in person on the following day. With 
 Colonel Glemmy, as with a good many people whose 
 iron wills would be invaluable to the community if 
 only these wills could be exercised in their proper 
 sphere, to decide upon a thing was to do it; and at 
 noon, accordingly, Colonel Glemmy found himself at 
 the end of the road which, developing at this point 
 into something more resembling a dry river-bed than 
 a highway, leads up through the dense woods known 
 as Hanging Coppice to the mill and the moorlands 
 beyond. The agent had described the mill as abso-
 
 228 Colonel Glemmy Suspects Mr. Coppenwell 
 
 lutely isolated, and he had by no means exaggerated. 
 The nearest village is a mile and a half away; and the 
 nearest cultivated ground not much nearer. Wooded 
 bits, large and small, spaced with shaggy pasture rising 
 steeply, block this off on the one hand; and on the 
 other, heath begins almost immediately, and extends 
 in plateau shape for a couple of miles before the down- 
 ward slope towards valley land assumes any apprecia- 
 ble gradient. The heath is a real sandy heath, waist- 
 deep in gorse, and in the summer-time fiery hot across 
 its length an<i breadth. 
 
 How a mill ever came to be planted amid such deso- 
 lation is the question that occurs to any stranger pass- 
 ing that way, but it is not a question that requires 
 to be answered here. It is sufficient to say that it is 
 a high and solid structure standing on a patch of 
 greensward that seems to have been leveled out of 
 the sloping forest, and that from the top of it one can 
 see thirty miles every way. It may be as well to add 
 at this point, since it points to the picturesqueness of 
 the building, that the great sails were still affixed to it, 
 though they had been furled, so to speak, for many 
 years; and (since Mr. Coppenwell, who is about to 
 come on to the scene in a few minutes, was making 
 for it at this time) the water supply is derived from 
 a pump at the far end of the green patch on which the 
 mill stands. From this well bygone millers had no 
 doubt drawn sparkling water many a time without 
 asking why the well should be situated at the farthest 
 possible distance from the mill itself. Perhaps a 
 water-finder had determined upon the spot. 
 
 Colonel Glemmy, pausing fb wipe his heated brow 
 at the foot of the fir-girt path that leads up to the 
 mill, was surprised to hear himself greeted by some
 
 Colonel Glemmy Suspects Mr. Coppenwell 229 
 
 one who had paused at almost the same spot, and was 
 wiping a similarly heated brow under the shade of one 
 of the firs. 
 
 "Hullo, Glemmy!" 
 
 "What, Mallendon?" said the colonel. " Mallen- 
 don, eh? What are you doing here? Camera. 
 What?" 
 
 Sir Jasper Mallendon, for he it was who had risen 
 from under the fir, certainly bore about him evidences 
 of the photographer's craft. The legs of his standing 
 implement were strapped across his back; a large box 
 containing the body of the camera was in one hand, 
 a camp-stool was in the other. 
 
 ' Yes, I've just come up to photograph your wind- 
 mill," he confessed. " The society I belong to is try- 
 ing to get county landmarks, and it struck me that 
 the mill was one of the most picturesque. And I don't 
 suppose, either, that the sails '11 last for ever. A high 
 wind '11 bring 'em down one of these days." 
 
 " And you're going to be the early bird get 
 the worm get the worm? Photograph the mill. 
 What?" 
 
 " That's it," said Sir Jasper. 
 
 " I'm just going up to inspect it myself," said Colo- 
 nel Glemmy. " I hear my agent's let it. We'll go up 
 together. What ? " 
 
 " By all means," said Sir Jasper. " How's your 
 rheumatism, Glemmy ? " he inquired politely, as the 
 colonel began to toddle up the hill beside him. 
 
 " Oh, it's better, thankee. These baths damned 
 expensive, but they make you better," said the colonel. 
 
 " Going to be well enough to come over to our 
 exhibition on Saturday? For a charity, you know," 
 said Sir Jasper.
 
 230 Colonel Glemmy Suspects Mr. Coppenwell 
 
 " Oh, I don't know about that," said the colonel 
 hastily. " Entrance fee ? What?" 
 
 " A shilling. Goes to the charity, you know." 
 
 " Well, well," said Colonel Glemmy, " I don't know 
 if I shall be well enough to manage it. Shilling, you 
 say, for a charity. Charity, what? Greatest of these 
 is charity. What? Well, well. We must see what 
 we can do. Spent a lot of money on that cure. Lot 
 of money lot of money." 
 
 Thus amiably conversing the two old gentlemen 
 ascended the hill, until they reached the place at which 
 two paths branch off to the right. 
 
 " I'm going to try and get it," said Sir Jasper, 
 " from the heath side. The trees here will make a 
 good background." 
 
 " Well, that's your way, then," said Colonel 
 Glemmy, indicating the upper path. "If you happen 
 to see any one about who looks like a poacher, you 
 might let me know. I'm going to work round from 
 this side. Dare say I'll find you at the top. What? " 
 
 " I expect I shall be there half an hour at least," 
 said Sir Jasper. 
 
 All unconscious of his fate, Colonel Glemmy pur- 
 sued the lower path, which, winding still among firs 
 for fifty yards or so, brought him out on the green 
 patch of field on which the mill stands, and close to 
 the well from which Mr. Coppenwell had just been 
 drawing water. 
 
 Mr. Coppenwell was not drawing water at the mo- 
 ment, but stooping amid the long grass, examining 
 something which he had placed or found there. 
 
 "Ha!" said Colonel Glemmy to himself, "rabbit- 
 wires rabbit-wires rabbit-wires," and advanced cau- 
 tiously, intending to surprise Mr. Coppenwell at his
 
 Colonel Glemmy Suspects Mr. Coppenwell 231 
 
 work. Almost as he framed his suspicions to himself, 
 however, Colonel Glemmy's foot caught in something 
 and Colonel Glemmy came to the ground with a jerk. 
 
 " Damn damn damn ! " said Colonel Glemmy, in 
 a choke of anger, and Mr. Coppenwell became aware 
 of his presence. 
 
 Now, though Mr. Coppenwell had been drawing 
 water, he had not been drinking it. Conscious that 
 they had, so to speak, won their laurels, and needed 
 only to sit tight for a few days more with their pris- 
 oner, both he and Mr. Boke, and the third man of 
 the crew, Bilks, had allowed themselves a certain 
 amount of license in the matter of grog. Mr. Boke 
 could take his drink without doing anything but in- 
 creasing his brain-power, and perhaps adding a little 
 to his imagination, in the way, for example, of per- 
 suading himself that he really was a retired sea-cap- 
 tain enjoying his rest and the outlook that he had 
 informed the agent was like the sea. He actually did 
 enjoy it for the time being. Bilks, who had been 
 employed to lift things for a furniture dealer before 
 he entered Mr. Boke's occasional service, had no im- 
 agination, but, on the other hand, no amount of liquor 
 left any impression on him beyond that of supreme 
 content. Mr. Coppenwell was the least grog-proof of 
 the three and also the least contented. He had begun 
 to weary already of the country life he had been 
 leading. A cockney by birth, he had begun life as 
 a newsboy, and had drifted into the hairdressing pro- 
 fession. A too great familiarity and an increasing 
 habit of puffing in the faces of his employer's clients, 
 had closed to him any chances of advancement he 
 might otherwise have had in this line of life; and after 
 knocking about for some time he was not sorry to
 
 232 Colonel Glemmy Suspects Mr. Coppenwell 
 
 undertake work for Mr. Boke, to whom the young 
 man's easy address and boundless impudence were use- 
 ful assets when he was engaged in making investiga- 
 tions among the poorer classes. Mr. Coppenwell's 
 sole experience of country life hitherto had been an 
 occasional week-end's poaching, and it was he who, in 
 spite of Mr. Boke's remonstrances, had done a little 
 shooting at odd times and at odd hours, in the neigh- 
 boring woods. His, too, were the rabbit-wires, in 
 one of which Colonel Glemmy had just caught his 
 foot. 
 
 Having been drinking, Mr. Coppenwell was at first 
 inclined to regard the colonel's struggles, which were 
 certainly calculated to break the wires, with some in- 
 dignation. His natural humor, however, overcame 
 this baser instinct, and Mr. Coppenwell stood and 
 roared with laughter for a full minute. The humor 
 was in its turn succeeded by a humane sentiment, 
 which led Mr. Coppenwell, after the colonel had cried, 
 " Hi ! help ! " several times and had become almost 
 speechless with indignation, to stroll towards his 
 victim. 
 
 " 'Old up, cocky," said Mr. Coppenwell, as he drew 
 closer. 
 
 The colonel, who had risen painfully upon one knee, 
 sank into a sitting posture. He hardly liked to believe 
 his ears. 
 
 " What did you say? " he demanded, with a dignity 
 not easily distinguishable from anguish. 
 
 " 'Old up, cocky," repeated Mr. Coppenwell amia- 
 bly. " That's wot I said. 'Old up, cocky, and don't 
 you go to pretend as you're a rabbit, 'cos I know 
 better." 
 
 " You you you impertinent scoundrel ! " said
 
 Colonel Glemmy Suspects Mr. Coppenwell 233 
 
 Colonel Glemmy. " Ah h h ! " The expression of 
 pain was drawn from him as, by a supreme effort, he 
 got to his feet. " Who are you, you poaching rogue ? 
 Where do you come from what ? " He gazed upon 
 Mr. Coppenwell with an awful and menacing expres- 
 sion that would have quelled a more sober man. But 
 Mr. Coppenwell was not in a condition to be im- 
 pressed. 
 
 " What pot got 'ot rot Scott ! " said Mr. 
 Coppenwell, with a rapid rhyming facility that drove 
 Colonel Glemmy almost crazy with wrath. He had 
 never been mimicked in his life, and his pluck was 
 indubitable. With a roar of anger, and a plunge that 
 brought away the wire from the ground, he fell upon 
 Mr. Coppenwell, and Mr. Coppenwell fell to the 
 ground. 
 
 Hurrying out, in his anxiety to learn what the sound 
 of voices might betoken, Mr. Boke found the two 
 locked in deadly strife upon the ground. 
 
 " Drop it, Coppenwell," said Mr. Boke angrily and 
 cloudily. " Now, sir," as he pulled the colonel to his 
 feet, " what's all this about ? I can't have people 
 fighting with my men in me own grounds, so to 
 speak." 
 
 " Are you the man this mill's been let to ? " de- 
 manded Colonel Glemmy. 
 
 " Cap'n Bunbury, at your service," said Mr. Boke ; 
 proceeding sentimentally, " Cap'n Bunbury, as has 
 flown his flag on many a stormy sea, and dropped 
 anchor at last in this here peaceful haven." 
 
 " And this is one of your men, is it? " The colonel 
 crooked a finger at Mr. Coppenwell. 
 
 Mr. Boke nodded. 
 
 " Man an' boy, he've sailed with me," he allowed.
 
 234 Colonel Glemmy Suspects Mr. Coppenwell 
 
 " First in the cabin, and arterwards as coxun o' my 
 
 gig." 
 
 " Very well," said Colonel Glemmy. " Like master, 
 
 like man, ha ! The most rascally poaching fellow I've 
 ever seen, your man. I give you notice, both of you. 
 D'ye hear? Ha what? Do you know who I am? 
 Colonel Glemmy, sir, Colonel Glemmy, as you'll learn 
 to your cost. Oh, I know," added the colonel, as Mr. 
 Boke mildly expostulated at the severity of this lan- 
 guage, and explained the nature of his lease. " I know 
 that fool of an agent of mine gave you the place for 
 three months, and you're within your rights if you 
 stop here. But there's been shooting heard. My men 
 have heard guns what? guns. You've been poach- 
 ing, the lot of you, poaching poaching. And I tell 
 you what, my man, captain or no captain, I'm going 
 to have a watch set, watch set set; and if one o' 
 you is seen about with a gun, till you go, till the day 
 you go what? off you'll pack to jail jail jail 
 mark my words jail jail." 
 
 And without further parley, which his scarcity of 
 breath would, in any case, have rendered one-sided, 
 Colonel Glemmy limped off the field, snorting indig- 
 nation. 
 
 " What do you want to go and be such a soft fool 
 for as to quarrel with 'im?" said Mr. Boke to his 
 assistant, as he watched the colonel fading in the 
 distance. 
 
 ' 'E went for me fust," said Mr. Coppenwell sulkily, 
 " like a bloomin' little tiger." 
 
 "Well, you needn't ha' hit 'im back," said Mr. 
 Boke. " He's the boss round here. We shan't have 
 any peace now. Mind you don't go out with your 
 gun, Cop, or we shall be done yet."
 
 Colonel Glemmy Suspects Mr. Coppenwell 235 
 
 " I'd like to gun him," said Mr. Coppenwell. 
 " Where's that dam water Hi was fetching ? Let's go 
 and 'ave a drink." 
 
 " Well, I hope we shan't have any one else up afore 
 Sunday," said Boke, as they re-entered the mill. " A 
 colonel to-day, a copper yesterday it's too thick." 
 He alluded to the fact that Police-Constable Bigstock, 
 in pursuance of his plan to acquaint Mr. Boke with 
 the fact that his wardrobe had been discovered, had 
 come up to the mill on the previous day, though with- 
 out gaining any particular information or receiving 
 many thanks. " We don't want no more. Is he all 
 right, Bilks? " he added to the thick-set man who had 
 been guarding the mill in his absence. 
 
 "'E's all right," said Bilks. "I only just left 
 him." 
 
 " Port'ole open ? " 
 
 " I dunno." 
 
 " You should ha' seen to it," said Mr. Boke 
 severely. 
 
 " He ain't likely to go and throw hisself down fifty 
 feet," said Bilks contentedly. 
 
 " No, but he might 'ave shouted," said Mr. Boke. 
 " Not that he can afford to give hisself away to just 
 any one any more than we can afford to give him 
 away." 
 
 Mr. Faviel, a prisoner in the top floor of the mill, 
 had not shouted through the loophole facing heath- 
 ward, which was the sole opening in the hot attic room 
 where he had spent his time, since Mr. Boke had 
 brought off his coup on Sunday in the very glade 
 which Faviel had appointed for his tryst with Judith. 
 
 Nor had Faviel thrown himself out, though he had 
 measured the distance to the ground once or twice with
 
 236 Colonel Glemmy Suspects Mr. Coppenwell 
 
 that object in view. It was too formidable a drop to 
 be tried, except in the very last resort. 
 
 But he had stood at the loophole for some con- 
 siderable time with his head out, glad to drink in all 
 the air he could. And this proceeding, little as he or 
 any one might have expected it, brought about a 
 change of circumstances which must await their rela- 
 tion till the following chapter.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 SIR JASPER'S PHOTOGRAPH 
 
 " How beautiful ! " said Miss Finch. 
 
 " It is indeed a triumph of the photographic art," 
 said Mr. Wormyer, who was standing at the back of 
 her chair in his shepherd's costume. 
 
 " Grand effect, grand effect," said Mr. Bayford, to 
 whom the object of admiration had just been passed. 
 
 " Well, it's only a negative, of course," said Sir 
 Jasper modestly. " But I think it ought to turn out 
 pretty good." 
 
 " Turneresque," said Mr. Bayford, " Turneresque." 
 
 " What are they all patting you on the back for, 
 Sir J. ? " asked Jimmy, lounging up with his friend 
 Butt. 
 
 " A picture of the mill at Hanging Coppice," said 
 Sir Jasper. " I took it when I was up there with 
 Colonel Glemmy the other day. He's let the mill to 
 a couple of men whom he now suspects to be poachers. 
 Hope they won't damage it while they're there. It's 
 picturesquely situated, and a big solid mill over a 
 hundred years old, I dare say. The view from the 
 top must be very fine." 
 
 " Why, that's the mill Butt and I were going over 
 to inspect," said Jimmy, who had secured the negative 
 and was examining it. " The man there, you know, 
 is the chap who bought that wardrobe which strayed 
 here with the horse and cart. Poacher, is he ? " 
 
 237
 
 238 Sir Jasper's Photograph 
 
 " So Colonel Glemmy maintains." 
 
 " Hullo," said Jimmy, " did you see that face at 
 the window when you were taking it ? " He handed 
 the negative to his father, pointing to where something 
 certainly resembling a head appeared at the little top 
 window of the mill. 
 
 " Curious," said Sir Jasper, examining his handi- 
 work again. " No, I certainly didn't notice any one 
 there while I was taking it. And from what Glemmy 
 gave me to understand both the men were out in the 
 field talking to him. In fact he went for one of them. 
 There must be a third." 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder," said Jimmy solemnly, " if 
 that's the chap that old constable was talking about, 
 who vanished in Waybury the same time as the ward- 
 robe. I vote we go up and inspect the mill to-night." 
 
 " My dear Jimmy," said Lady Mallendon, who was 
 one of the group on the lawn. " It's quite impossible. 
 It'll be quite dark. And if the men are poachers, 
 I don't know why you should want to interfere with 
 them " 
 
 " There's going to be a moon to-night," said Jimmy. 
 " The view'll be jolly fine by moonlight. Sir J. said 
 it would." 
 
 " I didn't say by moonlight," objected Sir Jasper. 
 
 " And, in any case, everybody ought to go to bed 
 early to-night, so as to be refreshed for the acting 
 to-morrow. Don't you think they ought, Mr. 
 O'Levin ? " Lady Mallendon appealed to the stage 
 manager, who had just come up, his labors all but 
 over. The last rehearsal had just come to an end, and 
 O'Levin had expressed himself satisfied with the ef- 
 forts of the company. There had been an all-round 
 improvement, and, as O'Levin had confided to Miss
 
 Sir Jasper's Photograph 239 
 
 Etta Warley, if only the hero could be left out at the 
 actual performance as he had been that day and the 
 day previous (Blenkenstein was still up in town), 
 and the play altered entirely, the audience would have 
 nothing to complain of. 
 
 When, therefore, Lady Mallendon appealed to 
 O'Levin to exercise his authority and bar the moon- 
 light visit to the mill, she found herself very luke- 
 warmly supported. 
 
 " If they enjoy themselves," said O'Levin, " it'll 
 brisk them up. They'll be all the livelier to-morrow. 
 What does the troupe itself say to Jimmy's proposi- 
 tion?" 
 
 To Miss Finch and Mr. Wormyer the idea of an 
 expedition by moonlight was all that was delightful. 
 Other members of the company also approved. Etta, 
 who was to stop the night at The Ashlands, was 
 entranced by it, when she was sought out and appealed 
 to. Judith would in any case have assented to the 
 appeals of Jimmy and Butt Lady Mallendon found 
 herself, in fact, in a sad minority. 
 
 " We could drive over after dinner," said Sir Jasper, 
 " and have an extra wagonette from the inn. Of 
 course I can't promise a view from the top, because 
 the people are in it, you see." 
 
 " That doesn't matter," said Etta. " The drive itself 
 will be so lovely." 
 
 " And the woods dreaming in the moon," mur- 
 mured Miss Finch. 
 
 " Upon my word," said Mr. Bayford boldly, " I am 
 very strongly tempted to join the gay throng, if I 
 may. Very strongly tempted." 
 
 " Do," said Sir Jasper hospitably. 
 
 " Wormyer and I shall add that seasoning of cau-
 
 240 Sir Jasper's Photograph 
 
 tion to the dish of hilarity, which will cause it to 
 assume favor in Lady Mallendon's eyes, eh, Worm- 
 yer? " said Mr. Bay ford gaily. " No, thank you, Sir 
 Jasper, I will not stay to dinner very many thanks. 
 Wormyer and I will come up and join you when you 
 are ready to start. Come, Wormyer, there is a 
 mothers' meeting at 6:5, if I remember right. Duty, 
 duty, Wormyer." 
 
 The curate was borne off, not over grateful to his 
 rector, after the hour of 8:30 had been fixed on for 
 the start. 
 
 " It'll be a good hour's drive," said Sir Jasper. 
 " And we shall all have to walk up the hill through 
 the woods. So we mustn't start later than that." 
 
 " What about Mr. Blenkenstein ? " said Lady 
 Mallendon. 
 
 " He'll get down by the seven train at Waybury, so 
 he ought to be here in time. If he isn't," said Sir 
 Jasper, who easily put up with the deprivation of 
 Blenkenstein's company, " you'll have to talk Wes- 
 tralians with him till we come back." 
 
 As it happened, Blenkenstein did get in a little late 
 for dinner, but in time enough for the expedition, if 
 he cared for it. That he did not care for it in the 
 least was natural enough. It alarmed him horribly. 
 He tried to assure himself that he need not be alarmed, 
 but for the first few minutes his alarm only grew. 
 He realized that if by some accident Faviel's pres- 
 ence were discovered, all his splendid planning would 
 go for nothing. Its splendor depended wholly on 
 its success. He had not even given Faviel the letter 
 as yet had not made sure of the 10,000. He 
 was still willing to lose that if the other achieve- 
 ment were granted him. But the winning of Judith
 
 Sir Jasper's Photograph 241 
 
 depended, he felt, upon his appearing in the role 
 of the successful man, Faviel being shown to be the 
 fool. If Faviel somehow got away, he would not 
 appear a fool. On the contrary he would be able to 
 show up Blenkenstein in a ridiculous not to say un- 
 generous light. And that before Judith had given 
 him Blenkenstein her answer. Faviel must not get 
 away even if he had to be knocked on the head to 
 prevent it. Blenkenstein's thoughts took that ugly 
 path with reluctance. He had no wish to knock any 
 one on the head. That sort of sin more than any 
 other had a sure way of finding you out with very 
 unpleasant results. Of course he need not have any- 
 thing to do with it personally. There were always 
 other people who would not mind taking the risks 
 for a consideration, and nobody need ever know who 
 offered the consideration. Blenkenstein always had 
 managed to keep secret the things that publication 
 would give an unpleasant color to, and he did not 
 see now why if Faviel disappeared for good, anybody 
 need be able to charge it to his rival. After all, the 
 fellow had undertaken to disappear. Plenty of peo- 
 ple have disappeared for good and meaning to 
 
 Suppose the thing had to be done, who would 
 undertake it? Blenkenstein did not feel quite sure 
 about Boke. Boke was the sort of rogue who has 
 scruples, and is rather proud of them. A useful man 
 in many cases, because he can be trusted by his em- 
 ployer: useless in others, because he is unemployable. 
 No, Boke would not do. But that young Coppen- 
 well? 
 
 Blenkenstein switched his thoughts back to the im- 
 mediate thought of the excursion with some trouble. 
 It was a less anxious matter than the one it had led
 
 242 Sir Jasper's Photograph 
 
 on to; but it was an anxious matter too; and it was 
 only with difficulty that he refrained from showing 
 his anxiety about it. If there had been the smallest 
 chance of giving Mr. Boke warning, he would have 
 done so, and kept away, leaving the rest to his agent 
 to manage. But there was no chance whatever, and 
 Blenkenstein, after pooh-poohing the notion until Sir 
 Jasper almost became testy, had to decide whether he 
 would accompany the others or remain behind. 
 
 It seemed best, on the whole, to go with them. He 
 might get an opportunity of conveying to Boke some 
 idea of what was up at least a minute or two before- 
 hand: and even if he could not, Boke, he imagined, 
 would not be such a fool as to admit the party into 
 the mill. There would be no danger of suspicion 
 attaching to himself in any case; and no one, so far 
 as he had been able to make out, had guessed for a 
 moment who the face at the mill-window in Sir Jas- 
 per's picture belonged to. Why, indeed, should any 
 one? 
 
 Moreover, it would not look well if he stood out of 
 the party, when Judith was going. Moonlight nights 
 were things lovers were supposed to look forward to. 
 It was just possible that she was looking forward to 
 it, and would give him an opening. Yes, decidedly he 
 would go. But he would take with him the letter 
 which in the last resort had to be handed to Faviel. 
 It might become necessary to deliver it, and it was 
 certainly well to be prepared. 
 
 At 8 130 accordingly he joined the party of twenty- 
 three, all told, which, in various degrees of high spirits, 
 stormed the landau, the two wagonettes and the gov- 
 erness cart, which were ranged in the front drive, 
 ready for the journey. It had been agreed, on
 
 Sir Jasper's Photograph 243 
 
 O'Levin's suggestion, that it would be more sporting 
 not to arrange carriage loads, but to have a general 
 scramble, after the manner of a cotillon, for who 
 should drive together, a happy suggestion, which had, 
 however, the result of leaving Mr. Bayford who had 
 playfully entered into the spirit of the thing, and 
 made a rollicking sprint for the governess cart alone 
 in that vehicle. 
 
 "Plenty of room here, Miss Warley: plenty of 
 room, Miss Finch. Wormyer, I have reserved a place 
 for you reserved a place," said Mr. Bayford, rather 
 pleased at first with the sagacity that had enabled him 
 to have seats at his disposal. " Ah, sheep, sheep," he 
 continued, somewhat pettishly, as Etta failed to hear 
 him and Mr. Wormyer clung defiantly, and with great 
 tenacity, to the step of the wagonette, in which Miss 
 Finch had gained a corner seat " all rushing for the 
 same spot the same spot ! " 
 
 The situation was saved by Sir Jasper good- 
 naturedly joining him in the governess cart with Ju- 
 dith, whereupon Blenkenstein followed. 
 
 " Ha! " said Mr. Bayford, well pleased, " forward 
 we go the brightest and the best " 
 
 " Wait ! " cried Lady Mallendon, hurrying down 
 the steps, " where is Augustus ? " 
 
 Butt, perched on the outside of the box-seat, be- 
 tween Jimmy and the driver of the wagonette from 
 the inn, had the indignity of having a Shetland shawl 
 pressed upon him, with instructions to keep it round 
 his mouth on the way back. 
 
 He thanked Lady Mallendon in a muffled voice 
 which suggested that the shawl was already affixed, 
 and the cavalcade started. 
 
 It is not necessary to describe the drive, which was,
 
 244 Si f Jasper's Photograph 
 
 like many others through English moonlit lanes, full 
 of night-scented flowers and the noise of night-jars 
 and rabbits scudding for their burrows in the darkling 
 hedgerows. No contretemps occurred except in the 
 case of Butt, who upon Jimmy persuading the inn- 
 keeper to intrust him with the reins, and the horses 
 breaking as a consequence into an unexpected gallop 
 fell off the outside edge of the box-seat into a ditch, 
 amid the cries of ladies, but was picked up uninjured. 
 Jimmy was therefore deposed from the reins in spite 
 of his argument that it was not his fault the horses 
 started off, but O'Levin's, who, in trying to imitate 
 a night-jar on his flute, had startled them. 
 
 " Out upon ye, Jimmy ! " said O'Levin. " 'Twas 
 Philomela I was calling to, and if ye listen carefully, 
 ye can hear the sweet bird responding " 
 
 " Owls ! " said Jimmy. 
 
 Miss Finch besought O'Levin to insist upon Butt's 
 being brought into the body of the wagonette, but 
 O'Levin thought he would be safer and certainly more 
 conveniently placed so far as other people were con- 
 cerned between Jimmy and the driver. 
 
 " He will dry quicker there like the ham in the 
 sandwich " 
 
 " Well, you'll hold on, Jimmy, won't you? " pleaded 
 Miss Finch. 
 
 " I won't fall off," said Jimmy agreeably. 
 
 " You would if I drove," grunted Butt. 
 
 " Everybody would," said Jimmy. 
 
 Butt clambered up into the middle place, after 
 having shaken himself at the suggestion of the driver, 
 and in due time the four vehicles arrived at that break 
 in the road among the fir-trees where Sir Jasper had 
 encountered Colonel Glemmy two days before.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 MOONLIGHT AT THE MILL 
 
 " WE'VE got to walk from here," announced Sir 
 Jasper. 
 
 The governess cart had arrived slightly ahead of 
 the others, and, rather to Sir Jasper's surprise and 
 gratification, Blenkenstein who was not in the habit 
 of putting himself out for other people had offered 
 to go ahead up the hill and try and obtain permission 
 from the mill's tenant for the party to go up to the 
 top of the mill and see the view from there. 
 
 " I don't suppose," said Blenkenstein, who knew that 
 the permission was going to be asked anyhow, and 
 saw an opportunity for himself in constituting himself 
 the mouthpiece of the party " I don't suppose, you 
 know, that he'll let us go up, as the place is inhabited. 
 Probably gone to bed by now. But I'll go ahead and 
 see. I can get up quicker than some of the ladies, 
 and be able to tell you whether or no, when you all 
 get to the top." 
 
 " I don't see why you should go up by yourself," 
 said Sir Jasper, supposing that Judith's company 
 through the wooded walk would not be unpleasant to 
 Blenkenstein. 
 
 " I'll go, too," said Judith, also gratified by what 
 she conceived to be Blenkenstein's unselfishness. 
 
 " And I," said Mr. Bayford, " will accompany you. 
 A tertium quid ha a tertium quid " 
 
 845
 
 246 Moonlight at the Mill 
 
 " You'll never keep up, Bayford. Better wait," said 
 Sir Jasper tactfully. 
 
 " Oh, I am a grand walker, grand walker," said 
 Mr. Bayford. "Forward " 
 
 And forward, obviously to Blenkenstein's annoy- 
 ance and secretly to Judith's relief, Mr. Bayford went, 
 in their company, chatting to his own refrains as they 
 went. The air was so still in those thick woods that 
 Mr. Bayford's voice filled it like an organ ; and nothing 
 else was audible at all until they came to the branching 
 paths, of which Mr. Bayford, who had visited the mill 
 two or three times before in bygone years, selected 
 the lower. As they entered this, the noise of a shot 
 at no great distance among the trees broke up one of 
 Mr. Bayford's reminiscences. 
 
 " Who can that be? " said Judith. 
 
 "Why, I am afraid," said Mr. Bayford"! am 
 very much afraid that that must be a poacher. How 
 sad when a man takes to poaching ! The unregulated 
 mind that can so offend against our reasonable game- 
 laws of what is it not capable? It argues the bird 
 is wild the bird is wild. It does not reflect that the 
 bird has in many cases been expensively reared by 
 hand. No the bird is wild ' it is as much mine as 
 others'.' So the poacher argues. But the time comes 
 when the mere wildness of the bird is nothing to him. 
 He descends upon a poultry-yard. Some valuable 
 turkey is seized and thrust into his bag. He spends 
 the proceeds on drink our national vice. In a 
 drunken bout, he attacks his wife his own wife and 
 beats his children, bone of his bone. Then, indeed, the 
 end is in sight," said Mr. Bayford affectingly " the 
 end is in sight." 
 
 This brief disquisition upon the decline and fall
 
 Moonlight at the Mill 247 
 
 of the poacher was succeeded by a remark from 
 Judith : 
 
 " My uncle was saying that Colonel Glemmy sus- 
 pected the men here of poaching." 
 
 " It's easy enough to suspect a man," said Blenken- 
 stein, rather impatiently, " but I dare say it's a 
 mere suspicion. The men here may be very respect- 
 able." 
 
 " Of course," said Judith. 
 
 As a matter of fact, Mr. Boke was standing at that 
 moment outside the mill, invoking anathemas upon 
 the name of Coppenwell. That young man, weary of 
 the mill's dull routine, had, in the teeth of orders, 
 gone out with his gun, leaving Bilks and Mr. Boke 
 to guard their prisoner. The warning that Colonel 
 Glemmy was likely to have stuck to his threat, and 
 had a watch kept on the woods, fell upon unheeding 
 ears. Mr. Coppenwell, made impudent above his wont 
 with high feeding and rum, vowed that he didn't care 
 a tinker's damn for Colonel Glemmy, and he only 
 wished he could meet the little tiger he'd shoot him 
 like a rabbit. He had been gone about half-an-hour 
 before his first shot was heard, and Mr. Boke was 
 walking up and down outside the mill in a considera- 
 ble anxiety. 
 
 This was by no means diminished by the sudden 
 advance upon him of Judith, Mr. Bayford, and Blen- 
 kenstein. For a moment, and before he recognized 
 Blenkenstein, Mr. Boke feared that this was some 
 hostile party, come to redeem his prisoner, and he was 
 prepared to set his back against the mill, and defend 
 it against all comers. 
 
 Mr. Bayford, who took it upon himself to conduct 
 negotiations, undeceived him.
 
 248 Moonlight at the Mill 
 
 " Good-evening, good-evening," said Mr. Bayford. 
 " I believe I address myself to the tenant of the wind- 
 mill. Captain Bunbury, is it not?" 
 
 " That's it," said Mr. Boke. 
 
 " I trust, Captain Bunbury," said Mr. Bayford, 
 " that you will pardon, in the first place, our intrusion. 
 We are from The Ashlands; heralds, I may say, of 
 a large party of a very considerable party." 
 
 " Are you ? " said Mr. Boke. 
 
 " All anxious," said Mr. Bayford, " to view this 
 splendid scene by moonlight. We understood that 
 the view from the top of the mill itself is something 
 quite out of the common; and, indeed, it is to ask if 
 you will grant us the favor of allowing us to ascend 
 to that vantage point to-night that I have come ahead, 
 at the request of Sir Jasper Mallendon. We ought, 
 of course," added Mr. Bayford, " to have asked per- 
 mission in the first place, and arrived in the second; 
 but the expedition is, I may say, the result of a sudden 
 inspiration, a proposal on the spur of the moment, 
 which the ladies of the party could not resist acting 
 upon." 
 
 " And they're coming up here, are they, to have 
 a look from the top of the mill?" said Mr. Boke, 
 pondering. He had recognized Blenkenstein, and seen 
 his frown and shake of the head. 
 
 " With your permission," said Mr. Bayford. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Boke, " I should have been glad 
 to give it, if I could. I can't " 
 
 " Dear, dear," said Mr. Bayford sorrowfully. 
 
 " The reason being," said Mr. Boke, with a side- 
 long glance at Blenkenstein, to see if he approved the 
 line of argument, " that my man's brother, who's been 
 ill, is up there asleep. I had him down, poor chap, to
 
 Moonlight at the Mill 249 
 
 give him a chance o' recovery in the air up here, and 
 there he is asleep." 
 
 " A kindly thought," said Mr. Bayford, obviously 
 disappointed. " I suppose er " 
 
 " You see, he'd get waked if you went up," said 
 Mr. Boke. " It wouldn't do at all. He's been bad 
 he's bad still. Besides, the ladies " 
 
 " Oh, quite so," said Mr. Bayford, " quite so quite 
 so quite impossible quite. I am afraid there is 
 nothing to be done, then, but to tell our friends that 
 they must resign themselves to such views as they 
 can get without going up. I see they are already 
 arriving." 
 
 Mr. Boke saw it, too, and the numbers alarmed 
 him. Suppose his prisoner began shouting. It wasn't 
 likely that he would, but he might. His time was 
 getting pretty close; and, from what Mr. Boke had 
 observed, he was beginning to feel fairly desperate. 
 There was only Bilks on guard, thanks to Coppen- 
 well's disobedience. Or, suppose Coppenwell turned 
 up in the middle of them. 
 
 " I tell you what," said Mr. Boke, in his anxiety 
 to get this crowd of people away from the immediate 
 neighborhood of the mill. " There's a fine view to 
 be got to the left here. I'll put you on the way to it, 
 if you like." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you," said Mr. Bayford, and 
 explained to Sir Jasper and the others, who had now 
 come up, what the mill's tenant had proposed. It 
 seemed so well-intentioned and reasonable that Sir 
 Jasper thought they could not do better than accept 
 Captain Bunbury's offer to guide them to the point of 
 outlook on the right. 
 
 " Facing south, I suppose? " he asked.
 
 250 Moonlight at the Mill 
 
 " Southeast by south," said Mr. Boke. " This way, 
 if you please." He dived into a woody park, leading 
 away from the mill, and the Ashlands party followed 
 him or perhaps it would be more correct to say that 
 about half the Ashlands party followed him. The 
 others, including Judith and Miss Finch, Jimmy and 
 Butt, preferred to wander about by themselves; and 
 the direction which the latter pair took was towards 
 the mill. 
 
 Jimmy had not gathered what reasons Captain Bun- 
 bury had given for refusing entrance, nor would he 
 have been disposed to accept them without test, even 
 if he had. For his theory that something shady, if 
 not the young man who ought to have been in the 
 wardrobe, but wasn't, then somebody or something, 
 was concealed in the mill's solid structure prevented 
 him from being satisfied with a mere view of the 
 outside. 
 
 Somber and mysterious from the outside the mill 
 did indeed look, rearing up to the moon from the silver 
 grass, and, as it reared, sloughing its black shadow 
 like a snake's skin. But somberness and mystery do 
 not dispel curiosity; they augment it. 
 
 " Come on, Butter," said Jimmy. " There's no one 
 about now, let's go and have a squint." The field 
 was empty of its recent visitors at the moment 
 Jimmy and Butt entered at the low door, and found 
 themselves in the ground floor room of the mill. A 
 couple of candles flaming in beer-bottles on a rickety 
 table showed the room to be of a fair size, circular, 
 and weather-stained, but vacant of anything that might 
 arouse particular interest. Some packing-cases that 
 seemed to serve the purpose of chairs ; blankets in the 
 corner; a cupboard containing bottles, cheese, and
 
 Moonlight at the Mill 251 
 
 bread; some clothes of a fusty appearance, hung up 
 on nails; there was nothing extraordinary in these. 
 They conveyed nothing except the suggestion that 
 Captain Bunbury had not gone very far towards fur- 
 nishing his rooms. 
 
 " I vote we go up to the next floor," said Jimmy, 
 and went up winding, creaking steps, that seemed half 
 ladder and half staircase, into darkness. 
 
 " Get one of the candles," said Jimmy to Butt. 
 
 " You're having all the fun," complained Butt, 
 when he had brought it, " and I'm having all the 
 fag." 
 
 " You can go up the next steps first, if you like," 
 said Jimmy generously. " And I'll hold the candle. 
 This is only the second floor." 
 
 The second-floor room was like the first, built in 
 a circle, but smaller, and showing, even more effec- 
 tively, the stains and wear of time. Some of the 
 machinery that had worked the mill in the days when 
 grist came to it still stood in its place, silent and 
 rusty; immobile, as though affixed for ever by the 
 innumerable cobwebs that bound it. There was a great 
 wheel in a grinding frame, so meshed and convoluted 
 by the spiders that it seemed a hurricane might blow 
 and never again shift it a hair's breadth. The room was 
 calculated altogether to give one the shivers; which 
 was perhaps why Mr. Boke and his companions had 
 not used it; also why Butt, having been accorded the 
 privilege of being first man up into whatever was 
 above the trap-door overhead, hung back a little when 
 he had got to the top of the ladder. It was a real 
 ladder here, with worm-eaten steps. 
 
 " Do I " said Butt, looking down upon Jimmy, 
 
 who was balanced on a beam in the room below, " do
 
 252 Moonlight at the Mill 
 
 I just shove the trap in? I thought I heard some- 
 body speaking." 
 
 " Yes," said Jimmy. " I suppose you're not funk- 
 ing it, are you ? " 
 
 To place such a supposition beyond the region of 
 doubt, Butt thrust boldly at the trap, which shifted 
 inwards gradually. It took some knocking, but went 
 like a cork in the end. 
 
 " Buck in," said Jimmy. " I'll be after you in a 
 mo'." 
 
 Butt bucked in obediently, and at once gave a yell, 
 which caused Jimmy to drop his candle. It rattled to 
 the floor below, being extinguished in its descent.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 A HOMERIC NIGHT 
 
 MR. FAVIEL had been sitting in the third-floor room 
 of the mill for the best part of a week, and he had 
 been getting tired of it. By day, the sun, driving into 
 that little wooden turret, made it intolerably stuffy; 
 the night winds, and especially those sharp winds that 
 come with the dawn, penetrating easily through the 
 cracks and crevices of the woodwork, turned sleep 
 into a nightmare of creaking draughts. 
 
 If Faviel had been getting tired of the mill, it was 
 not the mere weariness of the hopeless prisoner. He 
 had been making plans for bidding good-by to the 
 mill, making them with a lightheartedness that would 
 have astonished Blenkenstein and even Boke. The 
 lightheartedness, it is true, had succeeded something 
 not unlike despair, which had lasted all the time he 
 was being carried from the place where he should 
 have met Judith to the mill. Quite apart from the 
 fact that he had failed to keep his tryst, that second 
 capture had seemed disastrous, for he did not doubt 
 that Blenkenstein would follow it up by the delivery 
 of the letter which would end the wager. He knew 
 of course that Blenkenstein had broken the rules and 
 not allowed him the two hours' start, but it was more 
 than doubtful if he could prove it. Blenkenstein 
 would deny it through thick and thin, and so probably 
 would his employes, unless they were heavily bribed 
 
 253
 
 254 A Homeric Night 
 
 to do the opposite; and corrupt witnesses are not of 
 much avail, especially in a court, so to speak, of honor. 
 No, Blenkenstein would win the wager if he delivered 
 the letter. 
 
 It puzzled Faviel very greatly when the letter did 
 not come ; and only gradually, and by putting himself 
 in the position of a person with a crooked mind, like 
 Blenkenstein's, did he begin to see why the letter was 
 delayed. Blenkenstein meant to keep him there till he 
 had won both the wager and Judith that is to say 
 up till the very last moment. It was a good scheme 
 too Faviel gave his enemy all credit for it. He did 
 not quite arrive at the full beauty of it as from 
 Blenkenstein's point of view, but he realized that, if 
 successful, it left Blenkenstein in a much better posi- 
 tion than the more obvious one of delivering the letter 
 and still retaining his captive. 
 
 It was a good scheme, but it had, Faviel concluded, 
 one fatal weakness in it, and that was that it assumed 
 success instead of assuring it. The only way Blen- 
 kenstein could assure success was by delivering the 
 letter, and the longer he delayed to do that, the less 
 secure his success became. Faviel said to himself that 
 in Blenkenstein's case he would have delivered it and 
 kept his rival shut up all the same. That might be 
 awkward and illegal, but it would have been sure, 
 and avoided the mistake of despising one's foe. Fa- 
 viel had to conclude that Blenkenstein thought very 
 little of him. Boke would not directly answer any 
 questions, yet he gave his prisoner to understand that 
 he need not worry about expecting the letter until the 
 last moment 
 
 " 'E knows you're safe an' happy," Boke had said 
 on one occasion, " and he don't want to let you go
 
 A Homeric Night 255 
 
 not a moment afore he's settled things as it seems 
 you might interfere with." 
 
 " So it's a month, more or less, without the option 
 of a fine?" Faviel had suggested. 
 
 " That's it." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 " An' don't you get frettin' about it," said Mr. 
 Boke, not unsympathetically. " It ain't no bloomin' 
 use you can't 'elp it. There's three on us, and Bilks 
 'isself could lift you like as though you was a 
 babby." . . . 
 
 " He's a strong chap," Faviel agreed, and wondered 
 that Mr. Boke was such a fool as to take it for 
 granted that mere avoirdupois must prevail against 
 a desperate man. Even without being desperate, Fa- 
 viel felt pretty certain that he could have taken on 
 the hulking Bilks either in the ring (unless Bilks was 
 a very fine heavyweight indeed, which seemed very 
 doubtful) or in one of those rough-and-tumbles in 
 which his own knowledge of the snapable portions of 
 the human anatomy a knowledge he had picked up in 
 Tokio in many hours of wriggling with Japanese ex- 
 perts would give him an incredible advantage. 
 
 But perhaps Boke was not such a fool as to be 
 certain that the odds against his prisoner would keep 
 the latter submissive for good and all. Boke might 
 have reserves and reinforcements as yet unknown. It 
 was because he did not know and wanted to find out 
 before he made a dash that Faviel had kept quiet for 
 so long. He meant to get out of the mill, but he 
 knew that to do it he must make no errors. It would 
 be a bad error to risk tackling all three of his warders 
 at once, or even in succession, for if he failed once, 
 the second attempt would be a lot harder. None of
 
 256 A Homeric Night 
 
 these men were likely to encourage a second attempt, 
 and they would have no compunctions about breaking 
 his head. 
 
 Though he had kept very quiet on the whole, Faviel 
 had also been getting tired of his companions. Apart 
 from the motives of their fellowship they were not 
 in themselves the sort of people Faviel would have 
 chosen for a week's constant companionship in an 
 overhead dungeon six feet by eight. Mr. Boke he did 
 not object to. Mr. Boke had both humor and intel- 
 ligence; also a delicate taste in tobacco. Mr. Boke's 
 attitude was as a rule at once friendly and apologetic ; 
 and, except on the main point, he was rather with 
 Faviel than against him. 
 
 Coppenwell, on the other hand, was wholly unbear- 
 able. Whether Coppenwell talked, laughed or sang, 
 whether he was drunk or sober, Faviel's one desire 
 was to shake Coppenwell. Indeed he had done it once 
 when that young man, after his errand to The Ash- 
 lands, had ventured to comment in Faviel's presence 
 on the appearance of Miss Mallendon. But for the 
 rescue effected by Mr. Boke and Bilks, it is probable 
 that Coppenwell would have left the third-floor room 
 of the mill with more than a bump on his head and 
 two teeth missing, and a sulky determination to pay 
 his enemy out. 
 
 Bilks, the Hercules of Mr. Boke's party, was noth- 
 ing like so unendurable as Coppenwell ; but his brutish 
 dullness sometimes friendly enough, at others sullen 
 was apt to become oppressive. He it was who, in 
 getting Faviel from behind in the glade near The 
 Ashlands, had borne him off " like a babby " to the 
 cart Mr. Boke had in waiting. Bilks was generally left 
 in charge of the third-floor room, Mr. Boke's theory
 
 A Homeric Night 257 
 
 being that, while it was practically impossible for his 
 prisoner to get past Bilks, it was utterly impossible for 
 him to get past without a rough-and-tumble that would 
 bring himself and Coppenwell on to the scene. 
 
 There was a good deal in this theory Faviel was 
 thinking it again as he sat opposite Bilks on the 
 floor, half choked with the cavendish reek that came 
 steadily from that worthy's clay. Yet if he was to es- 
 cape, and the thing had to be effected soon, Faviel was 
 not sure that he would not have to begin by getting 
 past Bilks. In his prison week he had evolved a dozen 
 other schemes of escape, from getting through the 
 loophole window (usually kept closed) to setting the 
 mill on fire in the night; but none of them had seemed 
 wholly satisfactory. It looked as though a struggle 
 with Bilks would be the best thing after all; and 
 Faviel had practically decided upon it just about the 
 time Jimmy and Butt entered the mill. The moment 
 appeared unusually propitious. He had a pretty good 
 idea that Coppenwell was not on the premises. Mr. 
 Boke had let out some little time before some of his 
 disgust at Coppenwell's insubordinate behavior; and 
 the gun-shot that supplied Mr. Bayford with a text, 
 had also supplied Faviel with a fair reason for sup- 
 posing that Coppenwell was away. 
 
 If Coppenwell was away, Bilks could at the best 
 be reinforced by Mr. Boke. Mr. Boke's wrists were 
 not unlike handcuffs for hardness, but then he was 
 weak on the legs. If Bilks could be placed hors de 
 combat 
 
 At this point in his deliberations Mr. Faviel first 
 heard the voices of the Ashlands party. He did not 
 recognize any of them, but in the clear night air he 
 distinctly caught a word now and then. They were
 
 258 A Homeric Night 
 
 talking to Mr. Boke about a view. A party of trippers 
 probably on a moonlight picnic. They wanted to have 
 a view of the mill. 
 
 Presently Faviel heard Mr. Boke he fancied it was 
 Mr. Boke, but he was not quite sure saying, " This 
 way." Mr. Boke then, if it was Mr. Boke, was not in 
 the mill any more than Coppenwell. He might indeed 
 be some way from it. 
 
 Faviel looked across at Bilks. That squat Hercules 
 was tranquilly pouring forth the usual clouds of smoke. 
 
 " I wonder who those people are ? " said Faviel. 
 
 "Dunno," said Bilks. 
 
 " From what I can hear," said Faviel, " they seem 
 to be wanting to look at the mill." 
 
 " Not they," said Bilks. 
 
 " And in that case you'll be in rather a hole." 
 
 The taunt was lost upon Bilks, who replied not at 
 all to it, but smoked imperturbably on. The very fact 
 that he made no answer irritated Faviel, though he 
 knew the taciturn nature of the fellow. 
 
 " I said that in that case you'll be in rather a hole." 
 
 "Did 'ee?" said Bilks. 
 
 Faviel rose to his feet impatiently. The case of 
 their wanting to see the mill was so hypothetical a 
 one. They would not be allowed to in any case. No 
 wonder the brute was so completely undisturbed. He 
 stamped about impatiently. 
 
 But it seemed that Bilks was not so easy in his mind 
 as his attitude seemed at first to suggest. 
 
 " Sit down again, can't 'ee? " he grunted at Faviel, 
 who had gone on to the closed loophole. 
 
 " I'm not going to shout to them, you know," said 
 Faviel. It was more or less understood that Faviel 
 could not afford to summon assistance, since that might
 
 A Homeric Night 259 
 
 lead to his discovery and the instant delivery of the 
 letter, and the understanding had procured him fresh 
 air before now. 
 
 " Don't keer," said Bilks, " sit down, can't 'ee " 
 
 " And I'm not going to jump out," said Faviel. He 
 wished to provoke Bilks into rising. He could not 
 tackle him so well in a sitting posture, and moreover, 
 he sat on the trap. 
 
 " Siddown, I said," growled Bilks. 
 
 " You needn't say it again," said Faviel, " for I'm 
 not going to." 
 
 Mr. Bilks got to his feet. He was enormously 
 thick, with long monkeyish arms, and short legs like a 
 bear's; and as he lumbered across the room, his walk 
 was not unlike that animal's. 
 
 " What do 'ee mean now ? " he said. " Coin' to 
 give trouble ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Faviel. 
 
 Bilks put out his arm for the hug, and Faviel 
 slipped into the middle of the room. It was no good, 
 he knew, thinking to make an artistic spun-out affair 
 of the contest. The room was too small for him to 
 evade that tremendous grip for very long. He slipped 
 into the middle of the room, and as the other man 
 wheeled slowly round, he went in under the hug and 
 got his right fist plumb on the point of the jaw. 
 
 For a second Bilks clutched at the bright air that 
 this stroke creates for the best and strongest of men, 
 and in that second Faviel got in his right again, and 
 his left. Bilks staggered and went over backwards. 
 He must have struck his head on one of the protrud- 
 ing beams, for he lay stunned. 
 
 It was at this moment that the trap-door popped 
 upwards and Butt popped after it. He had been right
 
 260 A Homeric Night 
 
 in supposing that he had heard voices, though in truth 
 he had not been certain about it. For the rest, his 
 own knocking at the trap had precluded his hearing 
 the noise of the contest overhead, which was in any 
 case brief and sharp. 
 
 Faviel, for almost identical reasons, because, that 
 is to say, he had been knocking at Mr. Bilks's face, 
 had been equally deaf to Butt's approach. 
 
 It would be difficult to say whether he or Butt 
 neither of whom had before seen the other was the 
 more astonished at confronting one another, but it is 
 on record that Faviel was the quicker in adapting the 
 circumstances to his need. He did not know who this 
 new arrival was, but the new arrival was on his knees 
 still, and beside him lay the coat which Mr. Bilks 
 always discarded in the evenings. 
 
 It was the effect of having Mr. Bilks's coat sud- 
 denly and stiflingly flung over his head like a sack, 
 that caused Butt to emit the yell which, in its turn, 
 caused Jimmy to drop the candle. 
 
 And while Jimmy was feeling for the lost light and 
 shouting to Butt simultaneously, Faviel, with the trap- 
 door replaced above his head, was feeling his way 
 delicately down the ladder. He went so softly that 
 Jimmy, still groping for the candle, never heard him, 
 and so he went from the second floor to the ground 
 and out into the moonlight. 
 
 In the still air he stood and listened. Away to the 
 right, whither Mr. Boke had led his flock, voices were 
 audible; and conscious that the field was ringed with 
 barbed wire, except where the two paths led out of it, 
 Faviel made for the left. 
 
 Judith, standing with Miss Finch and Etta Warley 
 at the side of the field, saw him suddenly in a splash
 
 A Homeric Night 261 
 
 of the moon, and he saw her at the same moment. 
 He was bareheaded, and in the pallid light was not 
 unlike a ghost, and as he saw her, he made as if to 
 stop. 
 
 Then, as the voices from the right came nearer, he 
 changed his mind, and, slipping into the shadow, went 
 quickly by and plunged into the trees. 
 
 " I shall see you to-morrow," he said, as he passed. 
 
 " Who was that ? " said Etta and Miss Finch, in a 
 breath. They had not seen him coming, and in the 
 shadows he was indistinguishable. 
 
 " T " 
 
 Judith was saved an answer by the irruption from 
 the mill at this point of Jimmy and Butt, full of ex- 
 citement and shouting loudly. Jimmy had found the 
 candle, and by its aid had discovered Butt squirming 
 like an eel in Bilks's jacket, and Bilks himself lying 
 stunned on the floor. 
 
 " He jammed it over my head," Butt had explained, 
 when disentangled. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " The other chap." 
 
 "Which?" Jimmy pointed to Bilks. 
 
 " There must have been some one else." 
 
 " I expect he went by me in the dark then," said 
 Jimmy. " Jolly lucky you weren't murdered, young 
 Butt." 
 
 " Let's get out," said Butt, feeling creepy at this 
 retrospective possibility. 
 
 " Yes, we'd better get help," Jimmy said, a little 
 creepy himself, and they found the field and their 
 lungs, just as Faviel plunged into the trees, and Mr. 
 Boke, who had been delayed by talk with Blenken- 
 stein, arrived back in that gentleman's company.
 
 262 A Homeric Night 
 
 Butt calling " Murder," lustily, was Mr. Boke's first 
 intimation of the calamity that had befallen in his 
 absence. 
 
 "What is it?" he asked sharply. 
 
 " Man murdered in the mill," said Jimmy, " and 
 murderer bolted. We went up to see." 
 
 " Curse you young monkeys ! " said Mr. Boke. 
 " Which is murdered? " 
 
 " A big heavy chap," said Jimmy. " I don't know 
 that he's dead, you know." 
 
 Mr. Boke had drawn Blenkenstein aside. 
 
 " That's Bilks. Mr. Faviel's got away damn those 
 young monkeys." 
 
 " Sink yourself for a fool," said Blenkenstein sav- 
 agely. " What did you want to leave him for ? " 
 
 "How could I help it?" 
 
 " What are you going to do? " asked Blenkenstein, 
 who saw his money in the scales again, and inclining 
 to the other side. 
 
 "Catch him if I can," said Mr. Boke. "If you 
 and one or two of the gentlemen will help me." He 
 turned, without waiting for an answer, to the ladies. 
 " Did any of you ladies see any one pass ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Finch. " A man ran past us into 
 the woods. Is it is he ?" 
 
 " It isn't anything but that my man's brother 's got 
 away," said Mr. Boke coolly, " after knocking my man 
 on the head. Thanks to these young gentlemen's inter- 
 ference. The poor chap was a bit off his head. De- 
 lirious, you know." 
 
 " He said " Miss Finch shuddered at the recollec- 
 tion " that he would see us again to-morrow ! " 
 
 " Is that so ? " said Mr. Boke, throwing Blenken- 
 stein a glance.
 
 A Homeric Night 263 
 
 " He certainly did say so," Etta agreed. Judith had 
 not spoken. 
 
 " Well, I hope to see him again to-night," said Mr. 
 Boke. " Now, sir," Mr. Boke addressed himself to 
 Blenkenstein as to a stranger. " I take it it's your 
 fault and your friends' that this has happened, but it 
 ain't no good talking about that. What I want to 
 know is, if you and another gentleman or two '11 help 
 me to catch him." 
 
 Sir Jasper, Mr. Bayford, and the others had come 
 bustling up, having heard Butt's yells. Sir Jasper 
 offered his assistance as soon as he understood, Mr. 
 Bayford offered that of Mr. Wormyer. " An oppor- 
 tunity for you, Wormyer an opportunity for you. I 
 fear I am not fleet enough myself." And three other 
 men of the party, including O'Levin, also volun- 
 teered. 
 
 " Hadn't you better go and see to the man who was 
 knocked down, Sir Jasper?" suggested Blenkenstein. 
 
 " Yes, pray stay with us," said Miss Finch. 
 
 " And keep those boys back," said Mr. Boke. 
 " Now, gentlemen, quick's the word. We'll spread, if 
 you please. There ain't much chance," he added, start- 
 ing off with Blenkenstein. " He's got three minutes' 
 start, but we might just strike him." 
 
 " If you don't, you can whine for your money," said 
 Blenkenstein. He was almost beside himself with 
 fury. Almost at the last moment it looked as though 
 his plan had failed completely. He had not even de- 
 livered the letter. It was still in his pocket, as he 
 spoke. 
 
 " One o' my men, Coppenwell, is keeping a watch 
 in the woods," said Mr. Boke, disregarding the tone. 
 " He may 'a' seen him. And if we don't catch him
 
 264 A Homeric Night 
 
 to-night, you heard what the lady said? we may see 
 him to-morrow." 
 
 Three minutes' start may seem sufficient for a des- 
 perate man in a woodland country, but in something 
 less than a quarter of an hour Faviel realized that he 
 might have had more with advantage. For one thing, 
 he had not expected so instant a pursuit as had been 
 organized by Mr. Boke, and was astonished to hear 
 people behind him among the trees before he had got 
 any very long way. For another and this was what 
 mattered, for, assuming pursuers in his wake only, he 
 could easily enough keep ahead he found out, almost 
 at the same time as the pursuit first made itself heard, 
 that something in the nature of a blockade was being 
 formed in front of him. The truth is that Faviel's 
 front, which on ordinary occasions might have been 
 presumed open and unguarded, happened, by force of 
 circumstances, to correspond with Mr. Coppenwell's 
 rear. 
 
 Colonel Glemmy and six keepers were in fact in 
 hot pursuit of that gentleman, and Mr. Coppenwell, 
 retiring at an uneasy trot on the mill, was drawing the 
 seven right across Faviel's path. The suspicion of 
 what was occurring and the confirmation of his sus- 
 picion were presented to Faviel simultaneously at a 
 singularly awkward point. He had issued from out 
 of a pathless, but open portion of the wood, into one 
 of the many straight alleys cut through it for shooting 
 purposes, and, running down this, observed that the 
 hitherto dispersed trees on either side had closed up 
 into a stifling underwood of hazel and bramble through 
 which progress would be slow and thorny in the ex- 
 treme. Shouts from behind indicated that some per- 
 son or persons were on the shooting path in his rear.
 
 A Homeric Night 265 
 
 He ran on, thinking to turn off into the trees as soon 
 as their density should show signs of lessening. At 
 a bend in the path, he almost ran into Coppenwell. 
 That young man, breathless and defiant, had turned 
 at bay in this strategic pass, and had his gun pointed 
 at three men who were slowing up on him at a dis- 
 tance of some twenty yards. 
 
 He did not hear Faviel behind him, being busied 
 with the frontal attack. 
 
 " I'll shoot, if you come higher," he shouted at the 
 three men. 
 
 " You dare, you rascal ! " said some one, who was 
 indeed Colonel Glemmy. 
 
 " Putt your goon up ! " said one of the keepers. 
 
 But Mr. Coppenwell kept it pointed, heedless of the 
 crackling on either side that indicated to Faviel's ears 
 that a flank attack through the brushwood was also 
 being developed both on the right front and the left, 
 while sounds of running were fast becoming audible 
 to the rear. 
 
 The end to this strained position came more quickly 
 than Faviel had expected. 
 
 Colonel Glemmy and his supporters, mistaking the 
 rearward approach for the completion of their flank 
 attack, feinted a rush. Coppenwell fired, flung his 
 gun away, and, with an oath, plunged into the brush- 
 wood on his left. Faviel at the same moment dived 
 into the right-hand thicket, just evading the keeper 
 who was coming out. 
 
 Mr. Wormyer ( for he it was who was first along the 
 shooting-path from behind) valiantly, and with flying 
 coat-tails, dashed into the center of Colonel Glemmy's 
 main force. He was promptly knocked down.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 THE LAST DAY (l) DAWN. MR. COPPENWELL RATS 
 
 THE pinks of dawn were stealing over a sky soft 
 and silvery as birch-bark when Blenkenstein entered 
 that glade outside The Ashlands which Faviel had 
 appointed a week before for his tryst with Judith. 
 Silvery gossamers hung between the green of the trees 
 and the taller grasses; the dew-drenched turf looked 
 as if it were spilled over with quicksilver. Night 
 still lingered between the tree-trunks, while the birds 
 had begun to twitter doubtfully, as though the light- 
 ening overhead might be stars and not the day; but 
 in the open glades there was no mistaking the dawn. 
 
 Blenkenstein had no eye for it, save as a point of 
 time. He had fixed the glade as a place in which to 
 meet Coppenwell, and Coppenwell had not yet come. 
 Could he by any luck have got on to Faviel's track? 
 After the fiasco caused by Mr. Wormyer's mistake 
 Blenkenstein referred to it as such, though, as Mr. 
 Wormyer pointed out, the mistake was made rather by 
 Colonel Glemmy's gamekeeper all trace of Faviel 
 had been lost. The gamekeeper, who had been trying 
 to outflank Coppenwell on the right, said he made a 
 grab at somebody, but it might have been a stoat for 
 all he laid hold of. The gamekeeper on the left had 
 not even had cause to make a grab, for Coppenwell, 
 discreetly retiring instead of breaking through as Fa- 
 viel had done reappeared as one of the party in 
 
 266
 
 The Last Day: (i) Dawn 267 
 
 pursuit of the madman from the mill; and, since every 
 one was in confusion as to who was who, and what 
 was the next thing to be done, and Coppenwell had 
 not at any time been within recognizable distance of 
 Colonel Glemmy's men, he succeeded in his ruse per- 
 fectly. 
 
 Explanations between the two parties had of course 
 been exchanged, explanations of a sort and Mr. 
 Wormyer had been restored from a state of inanition 
 to one of heroic self -consciousness by a dose of brandy 
 from Colonel Glemmy's own flask. Partially sup- 
 ported between two gamekeepers, Mr. Wormyer had 
 then trudged back to the mill with the others, where 
 a large bump on his head was discovered. It was 
 rubbed with butter by Mr. Bayford, while further 
 explanations were entered into by Colonel Glemmy 
 and Sir Jasper Mallendon. 
 
 Bilks, who was in a very similar condition to that 
 of Mr. Wormyer, only sullen instead of blissful, was 
 cross-examined by Colonel Glemmy, but having previ- 
 ously been seen by Coppenwell on Blenkenstein's 
 instructions stuck to the story of the delirious 
 brother. The only weak point in his evidence was 
 his statement that " he'd like to get back on him, he 
 would " 
 
 " On your own brother, my man ? " said Mr. Bay- 
 ford, shocked. "Your own invalid brother ?" 
 
 " He 'adn't got no call to kick me on the 'ead," said 
 Bilks, who was convinced that this was the way he 
 had come by his injury. " I'll bang 'im, if I git a-hold 
 of 'im " 
 
 " Dear, dear," said Mr. Bayford, " this is hardly 
 fraternal; this is, I may say, inhuman " 
 
 " O, stow it," said Bilks sullenly.
 
 268 The Last Day: (i) Dawn 
 
 "Well, well, well," said Colonel Glemmy. "It's 
 the sort of thing one expects with this class of fellow. 
 What? Kill their own father. What? Rogues, you 
 know, rogues, rogues. Personally, don't believe a 
 word the feller says. D'ye hear me, feller, don't be- 
 lieve a word you say. What? Not a word. But I 
 s'pose there's nothing to be done to-night, Mallendon, 
 eh, what? Where are the other two, or half-dozen? 
 Score, I dare say. Thick as wasps wasps, what?" 
 
 Sir Jasper said he fancied there were only three, 
 or four, including the delirious brother. One of them 
 had been with their party and had come back. So had 
 the other, only he hadn't come back, being still on the 
 track of the unfortunate invalid, Sir Jasper supposed. 
 
 " Dare say he was the man with the gun what ? " 
 said Colonel Glemmy. " Well, I'll smoke 'em out yet 
 smoke 'em all out." 
 
 Mr. Boke was the one who had not returned, when 
 Sir Jasper's party left, and that is why Blenkenstein 
 had arranged with Coppenwell to meet him in the glade 
 at dawn. Blenkenstein could not rest long without 
 tidings of some sort, or without fixing up some last 
 trap for Faviel. There was still time to catch him, 
 he said to himself ; and almost persuaded himself that 
 Coppenwell had good news to bring him, when that 
 young man did at last make his appearance. An 
 unwashen blink-eyed appearance it was. 
 
 " You're late," said Blenkenstein, sourly enough. 
 The Ashlands party had got back after midnight, and 
 it was about half-past three, now. Blenkenstein was 
 feeling the effects of not having slept more than an 
 hour. 
 
 " Hi've bin arter 'im the 'ole night," said Coppen- 
 well protestingly. " That's why I'm a bit latish." He
 
 The Last Day: (i) Dawn 269 
 
 had, as a matter of fact, slept peacefully at the mill 
 from the moment the Ashlands party left it. 
 
 " Well, have you found him ? " Blenkenstein asked. 
 
 " No," said Coppenwell. " I haven't found 'im, not 
 exactly." 
 
 "And that fool Boke?" 
 
 " Not 'e," said Coppenwell. " 'E ain't come back, 
 ain't likely to. Hit's 'is fault the 'ole thing's mushed. 
 If he'd bin in the mill, now. But there, Boke ain't 
 up to the work. Hit's the third time 'e's let 'im 
 
 3 "What?" said Blenkenstein. 
 
 Mr. Coppenwell had conceived a characteristic plan. 
 It had occurred to him that, their work having come 
 to naught, Mr. Boke was not likely to be in high favor 
 with his employer. Nor, as one of Mr. Boke's 
 assistants merely, was he Coppenwell likely to be in 
 high favor either. But as the man who ought to have 
 been in command, as the man who had accomplished 
 whatever had been accomplished, who had given warn- 
 ings, which, if regarded, would have made success cer- 
 tain, as such a man, Coppenwell might perhaps be so 
 disassociated from Boke in Mr. Blenkenstein's mind, as 
 possibly even to succeed him in Mr. Blenkenstein's 
 employ. Not for this job. Mr. Coppenwell was pretty 
 sick of this job, but Mr. Boke had informed him that 
 there were things to be done occasionally for the Im- 
 perial Cities Exchange, Ltd., which were worth doing. 
 
 He told the story of Mr. Boke's failures now in an 
 ingenious way that emphasized their futility and the 
 soundness of the advice he had wasted on Mr. Boke. 
 But Blenkenstein was not content merely to listen to 
 the history of Mr. Boke's failures. 
 
 " I know he's a fool," he said. " Biggest fool I
 
 270 The Last Day: (i) Dawn 
 
 ever saw. You may be smart, as you're trying to 
 make out ; but are you going to get hold of our man 
 again ? What did you mean by saying you hadn't ex- 
 actly found him ? " 
 
 Mr. Coppenwell had not meant anything in par- 
 ticular; but he had the shrewdness to see that merely 
 hazy hints would be wasted. 
 
 " What I meant, sir," he said, " was that, hif you 
 like, the other man and I'll go on with the 'unt for 
 to-day. If we don't get 'im, we don't. But I've a 
 notion we might." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Why," said Coppenwell, " as Hi've 'card, 'e's 
 goin' to turn up to-day. Where? Hat the show. 
 Where helse would 'e ? Me an' Bilks '11 keep a watch, 
 an' hif we spot 'im, we nab 'im." 
 
 Blenkenstein was conscious that the ingenuity which 
 the young man had shown in slandering Mr. Boke was 
 absent from this plan, which, indeed, Mr. Coppenwell 
 only offered on the spur of the moment. But Blen- 
 kenstein was ready to clutch at straws. 
 
 " I'll give you two hundred pounds, if you do," he 
 said. 
 
 Mr. Coppenwell's eyes glistened. 
 
 " Hif Bilks and me spots 'im," he said, " Hi 
 wouldn't give much for his chance o' getting away. 
 Bilks is pretty keen to meet 'im Bilks is, hand I've 
 got one against 'im myself." 
 
 Blenkenstein looked at him, and the thought that 
 had first occurred to him when the proposal to visit 
 the mill had been broached at the Mallendons' recurred 
 to him with increasing force. He had not shrunk from 
 it then not altogether though Faviel's escape had 
 then been but the barest possibility. Now this rival
 
 The Last Day: (i) Dawn 271 
 
 whom he hated was free, had got the better of him, 
 threatened to destroy all his hopes. What right had 
 a man he hated to steal from him ? . . . He remem- 
 bered that Coppenwell was the person he had thought 
 of as likely instrument in case of need. Looking at 
 Coppenwell with his pallid face, receding chin, vicious 
 eyes glistening with the mere idea of having his re- 
 venge, he saw that he had judged right. 
 
 " Look here! " he said. " If you meet him, I don't 
 want any more risks taken." They were all by them- 
 selves in the glade, but instinctively Blenkenstein 
 dropped his voice to a harsh whisper. He wanted 
 no witnesses. Coppenwell luckily wanted very little 
 persuasion. Blenkenstein offered him double the 
 previous price if, in addition to discovering Faviel, he 
 succeeded in doing something to him that was not 
 actually put into words. Blenkenstein did not believe 
 in words either, if you could do without them. 
 
 He left the glade moodily enough. In spite of 
 Coppenwell's viciousness, there was little enough in his 
 plan to make success likely. Unless, of course, Faviel 
 did turn up. But would he? Would he risk losing 
 the wager at the last moment? He was fool enough, 
 if he thought it made the difference with Judith. 
 Blenkenstein, with a sudden quickening of the blood, 
 realized that he was fool enough in that event him- 
 self. And the event still hung doubtful. After all 
 these days, he was no surer of what her answer would 
 be than before. She had indeed seemed less distant 
 during the last week, when he had been more careful 
 of playing his cards. Last night, for example, after 
 his return from London, she had seemed pleased to 
 see him. She had accompanied him on the drive, un- 
 asked; and, unasked, she had walked up with him
 
 272 The Last Day: (i) Dawn 
 
 through the moonlit woods to the mill. But for 
 Mr. Bayford's presence Blenkenstein would have asked 
 her then. Later, the night had become mere confusion 
 for everybody. Well, he would play the fool in that 
 confounded play early to-morrow afternoon no, it 
 was this afternoon, he suddenly remembered and as 
 soon as that was done, he would try his luck. He got 
 back to his bed dog-tired, and was waked from a 
 dream, in which all went well, by the information that 
 a boy had come up with a message from the village 
 to the effect that a man wanted to see him there on 
 important business. 
 
 Looking at his watch, Mr. Blenkenstein found that 
 it was 10:30. 
 
 " Tell the boy, will you," he said, " that I'll come 
 round in about half an hour. Where is the man wait- 
 ing, did you say?" 
 
 " At the ' Anchor,' sir." 
 
 Now a man does not snatch sleep for about five 
 hours at the outside and that in two doses and be 
 roused from his first pleasant dream to go for a half- 
 mile walk before breakfast without feeling the effects 
 of it. Blenkenstein reached the " Anchor " Inn in a 
 state of high irritability, and when he saw that it was 
 Mr. Boke who awaited him there, he held himself in 
 with difficulty. 
 
 " Well," he said curtly, " have you found him? " 
 
 " No," said Mr. Boke. " I haven't found him not 
 exactly." 
 
 It was Coppenwell's answer, and Blenkenstein had 
 not been pleased with the wretched evasion then. It 
 broke down his patience altogether now. 
 
 " Then what the devil, you fool, do you want to 
 fetch me out here for?"
 
 The Last Day: (i) Dawn 273 
 
 Mr. Boke had not even snatched five hours' sleep, 
 or had so much as the beginning of a pleasant dream. 
 On the contrary, the reflection that had been with him 
 most of the night was that quite undeservedly he was 
 in danger of losing not only the credit, but also the 
 pay, for what had been but for bad luck a skilfully 
 conducted campaign. Blenkenstein had let forth some 
 of his venom on him during the run through the 
 woods. Mr. Boke, therefore, was not, any more than 
 Mr. Blenkenstein, in his most patient mood. 
 
 " Quietly, sir, quietly," he said, in his husky, affable 
 voice. " I fetched you out because I had something 
 to say what about the payment for this month's job? 
 I haven't had any yet, you know, sir." 
 
 It was not for this that Mr. Boke had in the main 
 fetched Blenkenstein out, but he could not resist 
 beginning with it. They had left the inn, and were 
 walking along the country road leading back to The 
 Ashlands. There was no one about, and Blenkenstein 
 relieved his mind. He had told Boke before that he 
 might whine for his money, and he told him why now. 
 
 " Who did you get all this from? " asked Mr. Boke, 
 as Blenkenstein rapped out the score of the failures to 
 secure Faviel. 
 
 " That man of yours. He's not such a fool as you, 
 at any rate. He warned you." 
 
 " Ah, Cop's a smart lad in his way," said Mr. 
 Boke reflectively. " Well, sir," he added, as they came 
 to the lodge-gate, " I see you're going to round on me. 
 I don't say nothin' about langwidge having heard 
 Billingsgate afore now and I don't say nothin' more 
 about the pay, just at present anyway. I might, o' 
 course, make things a bit awkward for you, knowin' 
 what I know."
 
 274 The Last Day: (i) Dawn 
 
 " I'll have you locked up, if you try," said Blen- 
 kenstein. 
 
 " All I'm goin' to say at present," said Mr. Boke, 
 in an alarmingly affable voice, " is that you are the 
 fool, sir, and, what's more, the biggest, screwiest, 
 narrow-eyed'st fool I've struck for a long time. Ex- 
 cuse my langwidge, sir," said Mr. Boke, lifting his hat 
 politely, " but truth will out, as they say. Never mind, 
 you trust Cop smart lad, Cop in his way. Lost it 
 at the last mo'," he continued to himself, as Blenken- 
 stein hurried off, hardly able to trust himself from 
 assaulting his late agent " that's what he's done. 
 Well, fools is fools, and here's for Waybury an' Miss 
 Faviel. She will pay like a lady for a vallyable 
 nephew." 
 
 And towards Waybury Mr. Boke set his face, and 
 feet that were becoming distinctly weary.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THE LAST DAY (2) TWO O'CLOCK P.M. AT THE 
 CHARITY FETE 
 
 FOR the past hour or more all roads had been lead- 
 ing to The Ashlands, and people on foot and people 
 in wagons, and motors and gigs and barouches and 
 landaus and wagonettes and dogcarts, people in smart 
 turnouts and people in vehicles more ancient and a 
 good deal more rickety than omnibuses, had been 
 flocking thither. The hedges on the road between 
 Waybury and The Ashlands were as white with dust 
 as the way to Epsom, and in cross-country lanes, 
 where, as a rule, the rattle of wheels was never heard, 
 chickens and ducks were still all fluttering from re- 
 peated flights across the very noses and under the 
 very hoofs of strenuous and alarming quadrupeds. 
 
 The yard of the " Anchor " Inn, and its adjoining 
 meadow, were like some port crowded with masts, so 
 many shafts stood up from them; and wherever there 
 was a patch of shade, and sometimes where there 
 wasn't, some horse or pony was tethered. The 
 " Anchor's " solitary ostler was so wet with running 
 about, feeding and watering, that one hardly knew if 
 the streams of water that splashed about him, as he 
 went, came from his face or his bucket. 
 
 The " Anchor " flew a flag, and so did one or two 
 of the cottages, to show that Hetchingham understood 
 how to make holiday; and the general shop had no- 
 
 275
 
 276 The Last Day: (2) Two o'Clock, p.m. 
 
 tices about lemonade, biscuits, and ginger-beer pasted 
 up outside its window with such thick paste that the 
 wasps seemed to have come prematurely into season 
 merely in order to enjoy the feast; while the pro- 
 prietor, who had hoped further to attract custom by 
 standing at the door in a white apron, was swearing 
 in his back parlor with a blue-bag pressed firmly to 
 his thrice-stung head. 
 
 But it was the grounds of The Ashlands when 
 you had passed the lodge-gate where the Hetchingham 
 policeman stood issuing tickets, and getting a good 
 deal muddled about the change, though the entrance 
 fee was the round sum of a shilling (children six- 
 pence) that struck you, as Mrs. Cleavin said to Mr. 
 Dunt, as they passed through the gate together, " all 
 of a heap." 
 
 " Of course, I know'd," said Mrs. Cleavin, " that 
 it 'ud be lookin' nice, this time o' year. But I never 
 did think they'd a got it so gorgeous as this. Cocoa- 
 nut shies, I do declare, and a merry-come-up." 
 
 " Merry-go-round," suggested Mr. Dunt. 
 
 " That's when they haven't got birds for hosses, isn't 
 it," said Mrs. Cleavin. " Do but look at the 'chine 
 there." 
 
 The machine in question was a tall obelisk, with 
 numbers up the face of it, and a springboard in front, 
 which, upon being struck with a hammer, caused a 
 metal band to travel up the obelisk at a rapid pace. 
 The harder the hammer struck, the higher was the 
 number registered; and if you had the requisite 
 strength, you could drive the metal hand up to such 
 a height that a bell rang. 
 
 " I do declare that man's a-goin' to ring it," said 
 Mrs. Cleavin, as a very square and powerful man de-
 
 The Last Day: (2) Two o'Clock, p.m. 277 
 
 livered a mighty blow with the hammer. " No, he 
 isn't. Yes, he are." 
 
 And, sure enough, as Bilks brought down the 
 hammer-head, the registering hand went up with an 
 incredible rapidity, and the bell rang. 
 
 " There's that man from the ' Sow an' Pigs ' going 
 to try now," said Mrs. Cleavin, " the one as lost his 
 horse and cart t'other day. Oh, he haven't rung it." 
 
 The pink-faced man, who, spurred on by some 
 fellow coachman, had indeed essayed the feat of 
 strength so successfully performed by Bilks, and failed 
 ignominiously, retired, pinker-faced than ever, from 
 before the obelisk, cheered by various small boys. 
 
 " Let's go and get seats for the play," said Mrs. 
 Cleavin to her farmer. " I do love a play more than 
 anythin', and they say Miss Mallendon Miss Judy, 
 as my friend up to the house here calls 'er looks 
 lovely in it. It's a-goin' to be acted be'ind the house, 
 so I'm told, in the garden itself, as you might. say." 
 
 "What's the price o' seats?" said Mr. Dunt. 
 
 " Threppence, back seats," said Mrs. Cleavin. 
 " They'll do nicely, if they ain't filled." 
 
 They were not filled, as it happened, though very 
 nearly so, and Mrs. Cleavin and Mr. Dunt secured 
 very comfortable chairs two rows from the back on 
 the outside, from which point, as Mrs. Cleavin ob- 
 served, they could not only see the play itself, but also 
 all the people in front. Mrs. Cleavin, familiar with 
 the place, enjoyed herself pointing out various celebri- 
 ties to Mr. Dunt, who spent too much time on the 
 land really to know who was who. 
 
 " There's Sir Jasper Mallendon," she said, pointing 
 cheerfully, " and there's Lady Mallendon, tall, with 
 the gray hair an' vi'lets in her bonnet. And, I do
 
 278 The Last Day: (2) Two o'Clock, p.m. 
 
 declare, if Colonel Glemmy haven't bin an' come. 
 Somebody's cottage '11 have to pay for that, unless 
 they let 'im in without payment, which is quite likely, 
 the fam'lies knowing one another. An' the thin lady 
 in the gray dress a-speakin' to him is Mrs. Mordant, 
 and whatever be the matter, Mr. Dunt ? " 
 
 Mr. Dunt, who had started violently in his seat and 
 half risen, sat down again with a jerk. 
 
 " There's th' lad as fired at me t'other day a-coming 
 along here, I'm dyshed if it isn't," he said, breathing 
 deeply. 
 
 " Where ? " asked Mrs. Cleavin. 
 
 " Theer." Mr. Dunt pointed with a square finger. 
 
 " Why, it can't never be," said Mrs. Cleavin. 
 " That's Master Jimmy Mallendon." 
 
 "That's the lad," said Mr. Dunt obstinately. 
 " And I'm goin' to teach 'im summat in another 
 minute. Wait till he comes up dyshe 'im I'll teach 
 'im." 
 
 " Oh, you mustn't go an' make a brawlin' here, 
 Mr. Dunt. You really mustn't," said Mrs. Cleavin 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Brawlin'," said Mr. Dunt, "or no brawlin', I'll 
 teach 'im." He gripped the sides of his chair to keep 
 himself taut for the supreme moment when the 
 unwitting Jimmy, who, in his best flannels, and with 
 a rose in his buttonhole, was selling programmes down 
 the rows, should place himself within his grasp. 
 Mrs. Cleavin hardly knew whether to cry a warning 
 or not, as Jimmy drew closer and closer to the violent- 
 minded farmer. 
 
 " You really mustn't," she murmured again, and 
 shut her eyes as Jimmy, stepping easily between the 
 chairs, placed himself, so to speak, in the lion's mouth.
 
 The Last Day: (2) Two o'Clock, p.m. 279 
 
 Jimmy opened his eyes as he simultaneously drank 
 in the farmer's identity and his purpose. Mr. Dunt 
 had unclenched his grip of the chair, and his fingers 
 were moving to the front of Jimmy's collar. With a 
 happy realization of the emergency, Jimmy stood 
 stock still and slipped a programme into the farmer's 
 right hand. 
 
 " Only sixpence," he said, " and it goes to a charity, 
 you know. Why, here's Mrs. Cleavin," he continued 
 cheerfully. "How are you, Mrs. Cleavin? It's very 
 good of Mr. Cleavin to buy a programme. We want 
 the money badly, you know." 
 
 " Oh, lor, oh, Master Mallendon, so it is," said 
 Mrs. Cleavin, too astounded for the moment to correct 
 Jimmy's mistake. Mr. Dunt was holding the pro- 
 gramme as though it had been a viper suddenly 
 dropped upon him from the skies. 
 
 " Mr. Cleavin's looking well," said Jimmy. 
 
 " But it ain't Mr. Cleavin," said Mrs. Cleavin, with 
 a blush. " This is Mr. Dunt, a neighbor o' mine. 
 I'm a widder woman, ye see." 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course," said Jimmy. " I don't sup- 
 pose you will be for ever, though, Mrs. Cleavin. What 
 do you think, Mr. Dunt?" 
 
 " I'm a-thinkin'," said Mr. Dunt slowly, and with 
 
 much effort, " I'm a-thinkin' " What Mr. Dunt 
 
 was thinking was not destined to be put into words, 
 for Mrs. Cleavin broke in, with another becoming 
 blush: 
 
 " You really oughtn't to say a thing like that, 
 Master Mallendon. You really oughtn't " 
 
 " Well, I expect it's done," said Jimmy. " But I 
 won't say it again, if you think I oughtn't to. If 
 Mr. Cleavin, I mean Mr. Dunt, has found that six-
 
 280 The Last Day: (2) Two o'Clock, p.m. 
 
 pence, I'll be moving on. Thank you. Hope you'll 
 enjoy the play." 
 
 And to Mrs. Cleavin's unbounded amazement, 
 Jimmy moved on, the richer by Mr. Bunt's sixpence, 
 and Mr. Dunt sat as though cast into a trance, with 
 his mouth slightly open, and the programme still 
 gripped tightly in his right hand, where Jimmy had 
 placed it. 
 
 Mrs. Cleavin had the tact to say nothing, and, as, 
 a couple of moments afterwards, O'Levin came upon 
 the stage, in the capacity of manager, to make an an- 
 nouncement preparatory to the play beginning, the 
 incident terminated. 
 
 O'Levin said that he had to crave the indulgence of 
 the audience on behalf of one of the actors. 
 
 " When I mintion," said O'Levin, unable to resist 
 a short oration, " that our leading shepherd, who, be- 
 sides being chief of the chorus, is, perhaps, the natest 
 dancer of the flock, received upon the top of his head 
 as recently as 1 1 145 last night a blow that caused 
 a swelling not smaller than a turkey's egg, I feel sure 
 that ye will forgive any shortcomings that may ensue 
 in the course of the play. A turkey's egg on the top 
 of one's head, as those who have ever tried one will 
 be the first to admit, is not calculated to stir the 
 corybantic instinct, even if ye have reduced it I mane 
 the swelling with the best salt butter, and a pound 
 and a half of rump steak. Our shepherd would, in- 
 dade, in the opinion of many, be entitled to withdraw 
 his assistance from us this afternoon. But he is not 
 only a shepherd, he is not only chief of the chorus 
 and a nate dancer, he is more, ladies and gentlemen, 
 he is, if I may use the expression at this early hour 
 in the afternoon, a jolly good fellow. Ladies and
 
 The Last Day: (2) Two o'Clock, p.m. 281 
 
 gentlemen, I refer to Mr. Wormyer, on whose behalf 
 1 crave your indulgence once more before the gong 
 sounds for our little dhrama to commence." 
 
 O'Levin's speech having been received with much 
 clapping of hands and a " Bravo, Wormyer," from 
 Mr. Bayford, the gong, which had been specially de- 
 vised by O'Levin to supply the place of a curtain, did 
 sound and the play began. 
 
 It is not incumbent upon us, as it was upon those 
 who had paid threepence for their seats, to follow this 
 dramatic representation of the simpler life through all 
 its scenes, enlivened as they were by O'Levin striking 
 the gong whenever any one forgot his words or came 
 on or wouldn't go off at the right moment. Rather, 
 at another part of the field, we will follow a conversa- 
 tion (since it throws some light for the observant 
 on certain events that were to follow) we will follow 
 a conversation there that was taking place be- 
 tween Police-Constable Bigstock and the pink-faced 
 man. 
 
 Police-Constable Bigstock was on duty. He had 
 been borrowed from Waybury to keep that order 
 which, unaided and confronted by such crowds of 
 people, the local policeman would have been unable to 
 enforce. Strolling from point to point, Mr. Bigstock 
 cuffed mischievous boys, directed inquiring ladies, 
 arbitrated in disputes concerning cocoanuts with an 
 austere dignity that moved the Hetchingham man, a 
 younger and meeker person, to shrink into his tunic 
 even more than being thin himself and having suc- 
 ceeded a stout man in his post he naturally would 
 have done. In the course of one of his rounds, Mr. 
 Bigstock espied the pink-faced man, and not having 
 come into contact with him since they had accom-
 
 282 The Last Day: (2) Two o'Clock, p.m. 
 
 panied Jimmy to The Ashlands together, greeted him 
 with a friendly patronage: 
 
 " Well, Sam," he said, " how 'a' you bin gettin' on 
 since I tracked that there hoss an' cart for you ? " 
 
 " Awright, thank'ee," said the pink-faced man. 
 
 " Druv' over here, I s'pose?" said Mr. Bigstock. 
 
 " Twice," said the pink-faced man. " I druv' the 
 Chinyman what they're puttin' up the tent for early 
 this mornin' from Waybury Station, and I've druv' 
 the lady with the little dawg this arternoon. I did 
 think," said the pink-faced man, who having failed 
 at the strength-machine once, had prudently reserved 
 the rest of his loose cash for refreshments, and was 
 therefore in a confidential mood, " I did think as 
 there'd be another job for you with that there Chiny- 
 man." 
 
 " How was that, Sam ? " asked Mr. Bigstock 
 gravely. 
 
 " Why, I nearly lost 'im. Thought I had same 
 as the hoss an' cart. And it wouldn't 'a' bin my fault 
 any more than what that was. I druv' 'im straight 
 enough, an' at the halfway 'ouse " 
 
 " You stopped for a drink," said the sleuth-hound. 
 
 " No, I didn't," said the pink-faced man. " A 
 genelman stopped us. That's how it was. Held up 
 his hand it was just afore we come to the halfway 
 'ouse " 
 
 " I knew you hadn't come to it," said Mr. Big- 
 stock. 
 
 " Held up 'is hand and began a-jabbering to the 
 Chinyman in Chiny. Leastways, it wasn't nothin' I've 
 ever heard afore. Arter 'e'd jabbered a lot and the 
 Chinyman 'ad jabbered back, says the Chinyman to 
 me, ' You wait 'ere a bit/ says he "
 
 The Last Day: (2) Two o'Clock, p.m. 283 
 
 " In Chiny ? " queried Mr. Bigstock. 
 
 " No, I shouldn't 'a' understood 'im if he'd said it 
 in Chiny," said the pink-faced man. " 'E said it in 
 English same as I'm sayin' it to you now ' You 
 wait 'ere a bit,' says 'e. ' I'm a-gittin' out.' And out 
 'e gits, what's more, and goes off with the genelman 
 why for the matter o' half an hour or more 
 leavin' me standin' there in the mid o' the road. I 
 thought 'e was lost for certain " 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder but what 'e'd gone on to have 
 a drink at the halfway 'ouse," said Mr. Bigstock. 
 " 'E didn't want you to see : that's what it was. 
 They're shy birds, them Chinies." 
 
 " It might 'a' been that," said the pink-faced man 
 argumentatively. " But if 'e'd bin havin' a drink, why 
 did 'e look thinner when 'e come back than when 'e 
 went away? " 
 
 " If 'e did," said Mr. Bigstock, who disliked argu- 
 ment, " it was the heat made 'im. You can take it 
 from me, Sam, it was the heat did it. They ain't 
 used to that." 
 
 " Ain't they? " said the pink- faced man. 
 
 " No," said Mr. Bigstock decisively, " they ain't, 
 and they don't keer for it. I could ha' told you that 
 from the fust, if you hadn't dragged your story out 
 so. You take too long tellin' a story, Sam. It 
 wouldn't do for the witness-box that draggin' out 
 wouldn't." 
 
 Thus squashed, the pink-faced man volunteered no 
 further information. He had been about to inform 
 Mr. Bigstock how on his return to Waybury he had 
 come across the owner of the wardrobe lost on the 
 previous occasion, and how he had seemed quite a 
 different sort of man, chatty and agreeable. But the
 
 284 The Last Day: (2) Two o'Clock, p.m. 
 
 pink-faced man, being squashed, did not inform Mr. 
 Bigstock of this. Nor consequently did he inform 
 him that Captain Bunbury, on being told of the affair 
 of the Chinaman and his apparent shrinkage in girth, 
 had offered quite a different solution of the story. 
 Captain Bunbury had said that probably the China- 
 man had been distended in the first instance by an 
 air-belt which Chinamen often wore to keep off the 
 rheumatism a malady to which they were very sub- 
 ject and that during his walk the air had escaped 
 from the belt. 
 
 It was a more interesting solution than Mr. Big- 
 stock's, especially as the pink-faced man suffered from 
 rheumatism himself.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 THE LAST DAY (3) FIVE O'CLOCK P.M. 
 THE BOOTH OF CHY FANG 
 
 THERE had been some discussion as to when the 
 booth or tent of the Chinese juggler should be opened; 
 and it had been finally settled that it should not be 
 opened until after the play was over, as competition 
 was not to be encouraged, when every penny was 
 valuable. 
 
 " If Mr. Fang," as Lady Mallendon prudently re- 
 marked, " does his tricks at the same time as the play 
 is being acted, people will either go to him instead 
 of the play, or they will go to the play instead of to 
 him neither of which things is desirable. Besides, 
 as he wrote to say, he would require some time to fit 
 up his booth, and, I suppose, rest his rabbits and things 
 after the train journey." 
 
 It was not until four o'clock, therefore, that the 
 booth of Chy Fang was officially declared to be 
 opened, and Chy Fang, according to an inscription out- 
 side, was prepared to Read the Future and Exhibit the 
 Mysteries of Crystal-Gazing and other White Magics 
 to such people as might elect to pay sixpence entrance 
 fee. Later in the evening he was to give two or three 
 successive entertainments in the conjuring line to a 
 larger public. 
 
 " It was his own idea," said Lady Mallendon to 
 Mr. Maxhaven, O'Levin's American friend, who had 
 come over from some distance in order to see how 
 
 285
 
 286 The Last Day: (3) Five o'clock, p.m. 
 
 an English country fete was conducted, " to Read the 
 Future first. He said that conjuring went so much 
 better later in the day, and he is so anxious to do his 
 best for the charity." 
 
 " Is he ? " said Mr. Maxhaven. " He must be a 
 model Chink then. Out West they don't care, as a 
 rule, what time of the day they begin conjuring, and 
 they're mostly concerned for the charity that begins 
 at home if you can call it home." 
 
 " Really? " said Lady Mallendon. " I suppose the 
 Chinese are not in general very nice people. But Mr. 
 Fang is really charming. I wonder how he is getting 
 on. Shall we go and see ? " 
 
 " Sure," said Mr. Maxhaven. 
 
 The booth had been erected by Fang's desire in the 
 front of the house, abutting on the drive. It was 
 a spot that would take the twilight early, and enable 
 the Chinese lanterns, with which Fang had provided 
 himself, to be lit effectively almost earlier than any- 
 where else. The tent itself was adorned with pic- 
 tures of dragons and slimy twisting creatures, such 
 as only exist in the Chinese imagination, and if we 
 may believe the revelations of the microscope in 
 some of our London water supplies. 
 
 Paying their sixpences to the custodian of the tent, 
 Lady Mallendon and Mr. Maxhaven entered, and 
 found themselves in a roselit gloom, which a skilful 
 arrangement of mirrors mystified considerably. Vari- 
 ous emblems of celestial origin and make were strewn 
 about, and on a pile of cushions on the ground at the 
 back of the tent sat the Chinaman himself. He had 
 on the most magnificent and voluminous silken robe, in 
 which birds and beasts and flowers pursued each other 
 in a labyrinthine pattern, and on his head was a hat
 
 The Last Day: (3) Five o'clock, p.m. 287 
 
 like a beehive with side curtains that concealed his 
 face. At his feet was a bowl filled with inky liquor, 
 and a small cauldron emitting snapdragon flames. 
 Also at his feet, both literally and figuratively for 
 he was seated on a cushion, shaking like a jelly was 
 a small foxy-faced elderly man, no other indeed than 
 Mr. Green, who kept the second-hand furniture shop 
 at Waybury. 
 
 " It was a fair price for that there wardrobe it 
 was indeed," he was saying, in a supplicating voice, 
 as Lady Mallendon and Mr. Maxhaven entered. 
 
 " The bowl says otherwise." 
 
 " P'r'aps it ain't working right," said Mr. Green, 
 with a miserable attempt at self-comfort. " It was a 
 fine bit of oak that wardrobe was a fine bit: real 
 good workmanship." 
 
 " The just tradesman doubleth not his price at the 
 moment of a customer's need." 
 
 " I wouldn't ha' let it go under eight pound to any- 
 body," said Mr. Green. 
 
 " Six was the sum of fairness." 
 
 " No, it warn't," said Mr. Green, stuttering. " Oh, 
 lor ! " The snapdragon had begun to spit and splutter 
 in the fiercest way. Flames darted at Mr. Green's 
 legs ; they rose higher and higher ; a fizzing noise made 
 itself heard. 
 
 " Beware ! " said Chy Fang, in a thrilling voice. 
 "Fly!" 
 
 Mr. Green fled without more ado, and the flames 
 instantly subsided. From behind his beehive hat Chy 
 Fang serenely regarded Lady Mallendon and Mr. 
 Maxhaven. 
 
 " Neat trick," said the latter approvingly. " You 
 seem to have struck the old fellow's weak point, too."
 
 288 The Last Day: (3) Five o'Clock, p.m. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Lady Mallendon, much im- 
 pressed. " I am afraid he cannot have been quite an 
 honest man. But I don't know, Mr. Fang, whether 
 as it's for a charity, you see you ought to frighten 
 people too much. It might get about and prevent 
 them from coming in. Of course it is very wonderful 
 and magical, but I almost think " Lady Mallendon 
 dropped into her pidgin English at this point for the 
 sake of emphasis " not too muchee frightenee." 
 
 Chy Fang nodded gravely. 
 
 " There are few who deserve fear," he said. " For 
 them it is good. For the rest they shall see only what 
 is fair and pleasant. Shall the bowl show your 
 eminence the rewards of the kindly heart?" 
 
 " Oh, no, thank you," said Lady Mallendon, not ill- 
 pleased. " We only came really to see how you were 
 getting on." 
 
 " Shall the bowl show the niece of your eminence 
 what is in her heart?" asked Chy Fang dispassion- 
 ately. " The hearts of maidens are not always clear 
 to the maidens' own eyes." 
 
 Lady Mallendon hesitated. 
 
 " What would the bowl show ? " she inquired. 
 
 " Truth," said the Chinaman briefly. 
 
 " Oh, that would be very nice," said Lady Mallen- 
 don. " Most interesting. I suppose it it " She 
 
 paused. " I'll ask my niece if she wouldn't like to 
 come and see the bowl. I'm afraid we must be going 
 on now, Mr. Fang. I really think," she continued to 
 Mr. Maxhaven, as they went out into the open again, 
 " that he's very marvelous. I wonder if there can 
 really be any magic in it ? " 
 
 Mr. Maxhaven assured her that it was only smart 
 faking.
 
 The Last Day: (3) Five o'Clock, p.m. 289 
 
 " In that case," said Lady Mallendon, " I believe 
 that Mr. Fang could do us a great service, Mr. Max- 
 haven," Lady Mallendon had one of her bursts of 
 confidence. " I dare say you know that my niece and 
 Mr. Blenkenstein are well, they are very nearly en- 
 gaged. It is quite a love affair, if you will excuse my 
 mentioning a private matter, only Judith, we fancy, 
 cannot quite make up her mind. Now don't you think 
 that if Mr. Blenkenstein and Judith were to go to- 
 gether to the booth, and Mr. Fang was to show her 
 in the bowl, you know, that Mr. Blenkenstein do you 
 see what I mean? " 
 
 Mr. Maxhaven allowed that he did. 
 
 " It would so simplify matters for all of us," said 
 Lady Mallendon. " Only, of course, it would be 
 dreadful if Mr. Fang, or the bowl, didn't understand 
 what was wanted, and made a mistake." 
 
 " If you like," said Mr. Maxhaven, with ready 
 good humor, " I'll go back and give him a hint right 
 now. He'll be only too glad to oblige. There's noth- 
 ing a Chink won't do to oblige." 
 
 " It's exceedingly kind of you," said Lady Mallen- 
 don gratefully. " If you will just give him to under- 
 stand how things are, I'll go and suggest to Mr. Blen- 
 kenstein that he should take Judith to the booth. It 
 is really well worth seeing, isn't it ? " 
 
 Lady Mallendon hurried off, and Mr. Maxhaven 
 retraced his steps to the booth. There was a slight 
 altercation going on between the custodian of the 
 booth and a tall old lady, who had a stout small dog at 
 the end of a string, as he came up. 
 
 " I cannot believe," the old lady was saying, " that 
 there could be any objection to Monarch's going in 
 with me. I am quite willing to pay sixpence for him,
 
 290 The Last Day: (3) Five o'clock, p.m. 
 
 if necessary, but I will not leave him alone outside. 
 I appeal to this gentleman " she indicated Mr. Max- 
 haven, who had politely waited till her business should 
 be over, " to say if there could be any possible ob- 
 jection to my little dog going in with me." 
 
 " Ma'am," said Mr. Maxhaven, with a rich polite- 
 ness, " I guess if you won't go in without the little 
 dog, the Chinee will have to welcome the little dog. 
 But if you'll allow me to precede you one moment, 
 I'll fix it by asking Chy personally what his feelings 
 are." 
 
 " Thank you," said Miss Faviel, and Mr. Max- 
 haven went in. 
 
 " Say, boy," he said to the magician, with an easy 
 disrespect, born of a familiarity with yellow men of 
 the West, " here's a dollar for you, and when you're 
 fixing the ink-pot for a young lady, Miss Mallendon, 
 I guess you know her, as you spoke about her awhile 
 back and the big man with her, remember he's her 
 beau. Savvy?" 
 
 "The big man loves the niece of her eminence?" 
 asked Chy Fang. 
 
 " Sure," said Mr. Maxhaven. " And don't you 
 forget it! And it'll help her a lot if you make the 
 ink-pot show what a time she'll have with him, if 
 she's only sharp. Sure you savvy? " 
 
 The Chinaman bowed with dignity. 
 
 " That's all right, then," said Mr. Maxhaven, turn- 
 ing to go. " By the way, there's a lady wants to come 
 in with her dog, and the box-office man won't let her. 
 Shall I tell him to cut it out ? " 
 
 " The lady may enter," said Chy Fang, with a 
 dignity which Mr. Maxhaven almost resented.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 THE LAST DAY (4) SIX O'CLOCK P.M. THE FLIGHT 
 
 FROM THE BOOTH 
 
 BLENKENSTEIN scarcely knew whether to be an- 
 noyed or not that he had yielded to Lady Mallendon's 
 suggestion that he should escort Judith to the China- 
 man's tent and go through the mummery of seeing the 
 future in her company. He did not believe in seeing 
 the future, and he did not suppose Judith was much 
 more credulous than himself. But then Lady Mallen- 
 don had hurriedly explained the strategy and had 
 ended by saying it would be such an opportunity. An 
 opportunity was what Blenkenstein craved. Some- 
 how, though the play had been at an end for an hour 
 or more, and he had decided that he would and could 
 wait no longer for his answer from Judith, the psy- 
 chological moment for putting his question did not 
 seem yet to have arrived. He did not know how to 
 put it into words this feeling of his that kept him 
 back. He was not sure, indeed, if it was something 
 in himself or something in her that made him linger. 
 With the last link only to be forged, it seemed as if 
 he had become in some way paralyzed. Perhaps it was 
 modesty that had been born in him for the first time 
 born of the prospect of undeserved and unutterably 
 sweet success. Perhaps it was the beginning of the 
 fear of unutterably bitter failure. If it was Judith's 
 fault that he held back, it was not because she was 
 
 291
 
 292 The Last Day: (4) Six o'Clock, p.m. 
 
 unfriendly. She had been most gracious to him since 
 his return, and provokingly gay therewithal. She had 
 a look of expectancy about her expectancy of what ? 
 The time she had fixed was up. Had she come more 
 than halfway to meet him? Was she could she be 
 inviting him to question her again ? Or could she, by 
 some horrible chance, be expecting the end of the 
 period fixed by the wager? 
 
 Blenkenstein hardly dared to think out the answers 
 to these questions, which kept recurring as they walked 
 together towards the booth. At one moment he 
 thought that instead of going on, he would lead her out 
 of the traffic of people into some quiet place, and then 
 boldly make his proposal. At the next he decided that 
 Lady Mallendon was right. The elementary methods 
 of the fortune-teller that had ended in lovers meeting 
 a million times in days of superstition would serve 
 him as an opportunity now. He would not let it 
 slip. 
 
 A dark handsome old lady with a yapping dog was 
 coming out of the booth as they entered, and it struck 
 Blenkenstein as not altogether a good omen when he 
 heard Judith address her as Miss Faviel. He had 
 heard of her and her futile pursuit of her nephew. 
 He wished she could find him now, or, say, in about 
 half an hour's time. Blenkenstein would save his 
 money, if she could, as well as marry Judith. He had 
 no hope personally that Faviel would behave so ridic- 
 lously as to turn up that day. 
 
 Miss Faviel, it seemed, was in a hurry. 
 
 " Have you seen Mr. Wilton anywhere ? " she 
 wanted to know. " I'm very anxious to get hold of 
 him at once." 
 
 Judith said that she had seen Mr. Wilton, she
 
 The Last Day: (4) Six o'Clock, p.m. 293 
 
 thought, walking round the gardens with Miss Etta 
 Warley. 
 
 " Shall I send one of the men to look for him?" 
 she suggested. 
 
 " Oh, no, thank you," said Miss Faviel. " I'll go 
 myself. It's very kind of you to suggest it, but I 
 expect that will be the quickest. It's particularly im- 
 portant." 
 
 She hurried off at a rate that made Monarch quite 
 choke ; and Blenkenstein and Judith entered the booth 
 together. The dim rose light inside was dimmer now 
 than when Lady Mallendon had visited it, and the 
 cauldron's flames crackled low and unsteadily. The 
 face of Chy Fang was almost invisible behind the cur- 
 tains of his hat. He paid no attention to Blenken- 
 stein, but made a deep obeisance to Judith, and said, 
 in his grave monotonous voice 
 
 " The niece of her eminence wishes to see into the 
 future?" 
 
 " Yes," said Judith graciously. 
 
 " She wishes, perhaps, to see the face of her lover 
 in the Pool of Blackness?" 
 
 Judith, it seemed, had not expected any question 
 quite so old-fashioned and direct. She hesitated, and 
 but that the light was altogether rosy, it seemed that 
 the rose in her cheeks was deeper for the moment. 
 
 " Perhaps," she said, a little uneasily. 
 
 " If you're sure you can show it," said Blenken- 
 stein. " It's exactly what I want Miss Mallendon to 
 see." His courage went up as hers went down. He 
 felt like seizing her hand and pressing it. He deter- 
 mined that at the right moment he would seize and 
 press it. 
 
 " It can be done," said Chy Fang. " But there is
 
 294 The Last Day: (4) Six o'Clock, p.m. 
 
 one caution needful. Only the maiden may look into 
 the pool, and no other face must cross it. Will his 
 eminence therefore stand with his back to the 
 bowl?" 
 
 For a moment Blenkenstein was disposed to contest 
 this direction; but, inferring, from the arrangement of 
 mirrors on the sides of the tent, that the trick was to 
 consist in getting him into some position which would 
 reflect his face in the pool in a manner that would 
 to the ignorant seem magical, he turned his back 
 obediently. 
 
 Judith, with her eyes fixed on the bowl, became 
 aware that the cauldron had begun to spout flames. 
 Higher and higher they rose, till it almost seemed the 
 canvas overhead must catch fire. Then suddenly the 
 Chinaman, who, like Blenkenstein, had turned his back 
 on the bowl, bent over it sideways; and a face ap- 
 peared in the inky liquor. 
 
 " Mr. Faviel ! " cried Judith, in amaze. 
 
 Before Blenkenstein, in sudden realization of the 
 trick that had been played upon him, could swing 
 round, the cauldron had fizzed out, and a sweet smoke 
 was pouring from the embers. It came so blindingly 
 fast that in a few seconds the further end of the tent, 
 to which the Chinaman had darted, was in a mist; 
 and Blenkenstein stumbled and fell over something, 
 that was in all probability some of the juggling proper- 
 ties the pseudo Chy Fang had brought with him. As 
 he picked himself up, there came a puff of air from 
 the back of the tent. Through a lifted flap of the 
 canvas, Faviel, with his Chinese robes discarded, was 
 vanishing. 
 
 " You'd better go out at the front," said Blenken- 
 stein roughly, to Judith. " Something's happened, and
 
 The Last Day: (4) Six o'Clock, p.m. 295 
 
 the man's bolted." He did not know if she under- 
 stood what had happened, or not. It was possible that 
 Faviel's identity with the Chinaman had not struck 
 her. She could hardly have seen him in that moment 
 of his disappearing. 
 
 She went out at the front obediently, while 
 Blenkenstein found the flap at the back, and crept 
 through it. The back of the tent opened almost 
 directly upon a shrubbery which Faviel had just en- 
 tered. The bushes were indeed shaking in Faviel's 
 wake, as Blenkenstein emerged. 
 
 Most men in the madness of anger which possessed 
 Blenkenstein would have followed their enemy with- 
 out pause; but Blenkenstein, even in his rage, retained 
 the gift of calculation. He wanted to confound his 
 enemy as much as any man; but he wanted to catch 
 him first. Single-handed he could not hope to do it. 
 Single-handed he would not have dared to try it. In 
 the hope of lighting upon Coppenwell or Bilks he ran 
 round to the front of the tent. 
 
 Fortune, it seemed, was to favor his cunning. At- 
 tracted by the clouds of smoke which were rolling up 
 from the tent, and by the door-keeper's shouts, (the 
 door-keeper had imagined from Judith's startled 
 egress that the tent had caught fire), a crowd of 
 people was hurrying up from all directions. The two 
 men he was looking for were almost the first Blen- 
 kenstein saw, and he beckoned them aside, as the 
 others plunged into the tent with a view to rescuing 
 the presumably asphyxiated Chinaman. 
 
 " He's gone this way," said Blenkenstein, hurrying 
 his men round at a speed not so great as to attract 
 attention. 
 
 " X)o? " asked Coppenwell.
 
 296 The Last Day: (4) Six o'Clock, p.m. 
 
 " Faviel, less than a minute ago. There ! the 
 bushes are still moving." 
 
 A more exact calculation might have led Blenken- 
 stein to the reflection that the bushes through which 
 he and his men were making their way could hardly 
 be quivering as they were from the effect of Faviel's 
 flight. Two minutes had elapsed at least since he 
 plunged into the shrubbery. And the bushes were as 
 a matter of fact responding to the shock of a person 
 who had passed less than a minute before.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 THE LAST DAY (5) BETWEEN SIX AND SEVEN 
 
 O'CLOCK P.M. IN THE WOODS OUTSIDE 
 
 THE ASHLANDS 
 
 Miss FAVIEL was last shown hurrying from the 
 booth with Monarch at the end of a string, yapping 
 excitedly. Miss Faviel's haste and Monarch's excite- 
 ment were due to the same cause namely, that they 
 had pierced the disguise of Chy Fang. 
 
 Miss Faviel had arrived at The Ashlands in a highly 
 detective spirit. Early that morning, and before she 
 had started from the " Sow and Pigs," at Waybury, 
 she had had a visitor, who, giving his name as Captain 
 Bunbury, had insisted upon seeing her. Miss Faviel's 
 surprise was considerable when, upon being shown 
 up, Captain Bunbury had undertaken to discover her 
 nephew for her by the next day at latest in return 
 for the trifling consideration of a hundred pounds. 
 It says much for Mr. Boke's sagacity that, having 
 been thrown over by Blenkenstein, he should have con- 
 ceived this simple method of reimbursing himself. It 
 was so simple, that he wondered he had not thought 
 of it before. For it involved him in no trouble put 
 practically no responsibility upon him at all. By the 
 terms of the wager, which by this time Mr. Boke had 
 mostly at his fingers' ends, Mr. Faviel would turn 
 up to-morrow in any case. He would, in fact, dis- 
 cover himself. But Miss Faviel, of course, did not 
 know that. 
 
 297
 
 298 The Last Day: (5) Six and Seven, p.m. 
 
 She closed with Captain Bunbury's offer, in spite 
 of the fact that he offered no explanation in re- 
 sponse either to entreaties or threats, the more read- 
 ily since, as Captain Bunbury himself pointed out, 
 she would lose nothing if her nephew did not 
 turn up he did not ask for the hundred pounds in 
 advance. 
 
 " If that's not a good enough guarantee, ma'am, 
 I don't know what is." 
 
 " But if you can restore him to me to-morrow," 
 said Miss Faviel, " you must know where he is at 
 present." 
 
 " It doesn't follow, ma'am, not a bit of it," said 
 Captain Bunbury frankly. " And, anyway, knowing 
 where he is, is different from letting other people 
 know. I don't, ma'am, to speak the truth, I don't be- 
 lieve in too many people being in a secret." 
 
 Miss Faviel could get no more out of him. Truth 
 to tell, Mr. Boke had one fear. The only way by 
 which his bargain could possibly fall through was by 
 Blenkenstein and his late colleagues discovering what 
 Mr. Boke had discovered from his purely accidental 
 chat with the pink- faced man; the fact that Mr. 
 Faviel, for the purpose of visiting The Ashlands, had 
 changed places with his friend and protege, the Chinese 
 conjurer. This trick of Mr. Faviel's increased an 
 admiration for him which had been growing in Mr. 
 Boke's breast for some time past. It was, Mr. Boke 
 considered, one of the subtlest and most sporting at- 
 tempts that he had ever heard of. True, if he Boke 
 had still been against him, Mr. Faviel would have 
 ruined his chances at the last moment by this exchange 
 of identities ; but then Mr. Boke no longer was against 
 him. And in any case, the pink-faced man's gossip
 
 The Last Day: (5) Six and Seven, p.m. 299 
 
 was one of the sort of accidents that the most 
 sagacious could hardjy reckon with. 
 
 Nevertheless there undoubtedly remained chances 
 of Mr. Faviel's being found out, and Mr. Boke deter- 
 mined to keep a watch in his interests. He had seen 
 enough of Blenkenstein, and he knew enough of Cop- 
 penwell and Bilks, to be conscious that they would stop 
 at very little in order to have their revenge. He did 
 not suppose that Blenkenstein would deliberately en- 
 courage a crime in order to win his wager, but he 
 thought it not unlikely that Blenkenstein was suf- 
 ficiently worked up to be reckless of the instructions 
 he gave; in which case a ruffian like Bilks if he got 
 Mr. Faviel in a quiet place with no one looking on 
 would go as near murder as a good many men of his 
 class frequently go, just for the sake of getting back 
 on a policeman. There was nothing mild about Bilks 
 when he was in a temper. 
 
 In pursuance of his determination to keep a watch, 
 Mr. Boke had lurked outside the booth of Chy Fang 
 most of the afternoon, keeping out of the way of his 
 late colleagues as much as possible. Miss Faviel, dur- 
 ing her altercation with the door-keeper of the booth, 
 had noticed him. She had, as has been stated, arrived 
 at The Ashlands in a highly detective mood, but this 
 in itself would not have led her to infer anything 
 from Mr. Boke's presence, but for what happened im- 
 mediately she got inside the tent. 
 
 What happened was that the moment Chy Fang 
 spoke Monarch ran up to him, with wagging tail and 
 a series of pleased yaps. Then, the truth flashed across 
 Miss Faviel. She kept her presence of mind, how- 
 ever, and betrayed no sign of self-consciousness. On 
 the contrary, she allowed Chy Fang to go through
 
 300 The Last Day: (5) Six and Seven, p.m. 
 
 some of his rites, with Monarch yapping excitedly the 
 while, before she turned slowly and left the booth. 
 
 Once outside she hurried in search of Mr. Wilton. 
 He was the person to assist her. She had told him, 
 when they met earlier in the afternoon, of the bargain 
 she had struck with Captain Bunbury, and Mr. Wilton 
 had rather pooh-poohed it. He seemed to doubt if 
 Captain Bunbury was trustworthy. So did Miss Fa- 
 viel, but that he had his eye on Richard who must 
 surely have departed from his senses was now plain. 
 If only she could find Mr. Wilton, he and she together 
 could enter the booth and make a claim to Richard 
 which no one could dispute, and would rescue Richard 
 from the possibly evil eye of Captain Bunbury. 
 
 Unfortunately for Miss Faviel's plan, Mr. Wilton 
 was not to be found. She went round the garden and 
 he was not there, and she was returning by the front 
 of the house, in case he should be near the cocoanut 
 shies or the merry-go-round, when the smoke rising 
 from the booth caught her eye and warned her of a 
 possible catastrophe. 
 
 Miss Faviel ran; and Monarch, with failing legs 
 and breath, and eyes bulging with the conviction that 
 the end of the world had come, was dragged after her. 
 Some men, who had entered the tent, were just com- 
 ing out, as she reached it. Conspicuous among them 
 were Police-Constable Bigstock and the pink-faced 
 man. 
 
 " Suttunly," Mr. Bigstock was saying, " he ain't in 
 theer. He must 'a' got out at the back." 
 
 Miss Faviel hailed him breathlessly. 
 
 " The Chinaman, Chy Fang, is my nephew whom 
 we've been looking for. He must be mad. Can you 
 catch him? "
 
 The Last Day: (5) Six and Seven, p.m. 301 
 
 Mr. Bigstock rose to the occasion with an alertness 
 which was little short of the miraculous. He asked 
 no questions. He made no promises. He did not so 
 much as reply to Miss Faviel. 
 
 Turning to the pink-faced man he said, 
 
 " Sam, this is the chanst o' your life. Foller where 
 I lead 'ee. He's a-gone through the shrubbery, I 
 expect." 
 
 Stunned by the suddenness of his mission, the pink- 
 faced man followed Mr. Bigstock without a word into 
 the bushes, while Miss Faviel, turning round, found 
 herself confronted by Judith Mallendon. 
 
 " My dear," said Miss Faviel, " that Chinaman is 
 my nephew, and he's trying to disappear again." 
 
 " I know," said Judith unexpectedly, and to Miss 
 Faviel's astonishment began to weep a little. 
 
 " Never mind, my dear," said Miss Faviel. " I'm 
 sure he'll come back, if that dreadfully foolish police- 
 man doesn't make a muddle. I only wish I could have 
 sent some one else after him." 
 
 " I sent Jimmy," said Judith, " and his friend. But 
 I wish I knew knew " 
 
 " There there," said Miss Faviel. " Look at poor 
 Monarch, quite apoplectic ! He knew Richard at once, 
 clever Monarch ! And you did too, did you, my dear ? 
 Now, let us go for a little walk up and down together. 
 I expect they will all be back soon, and then Richard 
 will have to explain his behavior." 
 
 But in this expectation Miss Faviel was destined to 
 be disappointed. 
 
 Faviel had started on his flight from the booth 
 buoyantly. The success of his escape from the mill 
 followed by his luck in effecting the exchange with 
 Chy Fang, who had agreed to it with ineffable good
 
 302 The Last Day: (5) Six and Sevcn^ p.m. 
 
 humor and incuriousness followed again by the skil- 
 ful way in which he had put that last spoke in Blen- 
 kenstein's wheel gave him a feeling of exultation 
 which was like drinking wine. He had seen Judith, 
 and to-morrow he would see her once more, and be 
 released from these distracting fetters which had been 
 fixed on him by the terms of the wager. He had only 
 to lie hid till midnight and he would withal have won 
 the wager. 
 
 While he was wondering where he should make 
 his hiding-place, and unconsciously beginning to flag, 
 Faviel became aware that he was pursued. Somehow 
 he had not expected pursuit. He renewed his pace a 
 little less exultant, making for the woods that lay aside 
 The Ashlands. Presently, the exultation had died out, 
 and he was like a tired man from whom the spirit 
 of the wine he has drunk is fled, leaving a double 
 lethargy. He began to realize that there was a price 
 to be paid for his successes of the day and preceding 
 night, the price of sheer exhaustion. He had spent six 
 days in close confinement, followed by a sleepless night 
 of hot pursuit and a day of great strain. The facts 
 came upon him, together with a looseness of the knees 
 and a faint feeling. He felt that he could not run 
 much further. 
 
 Up to now he had kept his handicap so well that 
 he had not been visible to his pursuers, or rather they 
 had not been visible to him. He could only hear them 
 as they must have been able to hear him. 
 
 Turning now, as he reached an open glade, he saw 
 Mr. Boke among the trees not thirty yards off. He 
 stopped. It was no good being run down and caught 
 without a breath in his body. He would sooner stand 
 and make a fight of it. How many of them were
 
 The Last Day: (5) Six and Seven, p.m. 303 
 
 after him ? A lust of anger filled him, as he balanced 
 the chances of his being taken at the last moment like 
 a fool, and he stopped and picked a heavy stump of 
 wood out of some fagots that lay in a pile on the 
 ground beside him. 
 
 " Look out for yourself ! " he said to Mr. Boke, as 
 the latter drew near. 
 
 Mr. Boke pulled up. He also was getting his breath 
 with difficulty. The two stood facing one another 
 for an appreciable time before Mr. Boke could 
 speak. 
 
 " All right, sir," he said. " I'm not after you. I've 
 changed sides. There ain't time to explain, but your 
 lady aunt has promised me a hundred if you turn up 
 to-morrow, and I've broke with Mr. B. He an' Cop 
 an' Bilks are after you now. Can you git on, 
 sir?" 
 
 " No," said Faviel. He scarcely knew whether to 
 believe Mr. Boke or not, but in any case he could not 
 get on, and he said so calmly. 
 
 " Then there's on'y one thing to be done," said Mr. 
 Boke. " Lie low under those sticks or anywhere 
 I'll go on an' mix the scent. Lie down, sir, for your 
 own sake. There they are a-coming. I'm off." 
 
 Faviel flopped down in a crevasse among the 
 fagots, as Mr. Boke, with a heroic spirit, crossed the 
 glade and plunged into the trees beyond. 
 
 " There 'e goes!" 
 
 "Come on!" 
 
 Bilks and Blenkenstein issued into the glade almost 
 simultaneously with Mr. Boke's dive into the further 
 wood, and they followed him without stopping. 
 Wedged in among the fagots as helpless as a rabbit 
 in a wire, Faviel watched them go, and having waited
 
 304 The Last Day: (5) Six and Seven, p.m. 
 
 a minute to give them time to vanish, decided he had 
 better wriggle himself out. Turning for that purpose, 
 he saw the leering face of Coppenwell above him, and 
 next moment received a blow on the head from the 
 very stump of wood he had himself laid down.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 THE LAST DAY (6) FIVE MINUTES PAST SEVEN 
 
 O'CLOCK P. M. MR. BOKE HAS HIS REVENGE 
 
 MR. BOKE, though, in a sporting spirit, he had 
 drawn the scent, as he supposed, away from Mr. Fa- 
 viel and upon himself, had no intention of sacrificing 
 himself more than was needful. 
 
 By leading his pursuers into the open country he 
 might, no doubt, give Mr. Faviel the very best chance 
 of being quit of them; but then running was not his 
 forte, and the idea of being caught at some distance 
 from civilization by his late colleagues and Mr. Blen- 
 kenstein was not to his mind at all. Their reasonable- 
 ness, on discovering that he had tricked them, would 
 be at a very low ebb; and it was highly likely that 
 Mr. Coppenwell's lively brain would suggest that Mr. 
 Boke should suffer in Mr. Faviel's place, a suggestion 
 the others, in their wrought-up condition, would only 
 too probably fall in with. 
 
 Mr. Coppenwell, as we know, was not with the other 
 two. Having seen his chance, that sage youth had 
 determined to seize it, and win glory and gold for 
 himself by capturing Mr. Faviel single-handed. 
 
 Mr. Boke did not know of this, of course, but in 
 any case his tactics would in all probability have been 
 the same. They consisted in keeping just so much 
 ahead as to avoid the full glare of publicity, while, at 
 
 305
 
 306 The Last Day: (6) Five Minutes past Seven 
 
 the same time, by turning and doubling perpetually, 
 he was gradually retracing his steps towards The 
 Ashlands. 
 
 Whether he would reach that haven of refuge before 
 the storm, so to speak, broke, was a problem which 
 had become exceedingly doubtful, when chance unex- 
 pectedly favored him. As he burst out of a thinnish 
 copse in the course of traversing which he had had 
 the dubious pleasure of observing that Mr. Blenken- 
 stein, who was leading, had gained on him considerably 
 and would recognize him in turn at the next open bit 
 Mr. Boke perceived ahead of him two men. One was a 
 police constable, Mr. Bigstock, in fact; the other was 
 the pink-faced man who had, on a memorable occasion, 
 driven the cart containing the wardrobe halfway to 
 the mill at Hanging Coppice. 
 
 As soon as they saw Mr. Boke they stopped. Mr. 
 Boke also stopped. 
 
 " Ha' you," said Mr. Bigstock severely, " seen a 
 young man, what, being a lunatic, has escaped some- 
 wheres into this here wood?" 
 
 Even while he spoke, Blenkenstein was thudding 
 towards them through the coppice from which Mr. 
 Boke had just emerged. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Boke, rising to the emergency, " I 
 have. Here he is ! Hold him ! " 
 
 " Stand by, Sam," said Mr. Bigstock steadily, and 
 the pink-faced man stood by. Mr. Bigstock in council 
 or on the trail might be liable to confusion ; Mr. Big- 
 stock in action was limpidly direct. As Blenkenstein 
 ran out from the trees, the big constable had him in 
 a moment. Blenkenstein was a big man himself, but 
 he was not possessed of Mr. Bigstock's muscle. He 
 tried to free himself in vain.
 
 The Last Day: (6) Five Minutes past Seven 307 
 
 " What the devil are you up to ? " he yelled, as Mr. 
 Bigstock gripped him closer. 
 
 " Got that bit o' rope, Sam?" asked Mr. Bigstock. 
 
 Almost before he could get out an explanation, 
 Blenkenstein's hands had been firmly secured by the 
 pink-faced man. 
 
 "Now then, quiet?" said Mr. Bigstock, "or I'll 
 have to gag 'ee." 
 
 " Well done," said Mr. Boke, who was hovering on 
 the outskirts of the fray, keenly listening for the foot- 
 steps of Bilks and Coppenwell. Presumably they had 
 seen the policeman, and, like guilty men, had fled, 
 instead of advancing. " Well done, constable. I don't 
 mind tellin' you I was after him myself. I'm a pri- 
 vate detective." 
 
 "Are you?" said Mr. Bigstock deferentially. 
 " You've bin arter 'im some time, haven't you ? " 
 
 " Yes. But he's got the better of me. Turned on 
 me," said Mr. Boke. " I didn't like it. These lunatics 
 'are pretty strong. Anyway, it's your capture, and I 
 don't ask for any credit. I've never seen a smarter bit 
 of work." 
 
 Mr. Bigstock beamed at this professional praise. 
 
 " Look here, constable," said Blenkenstein, who had 
 recovered his temper sufficiently to see that execration 
 in itself would not release him from Mr. Bigstock's 
 grip. " That man's a liar. He's a man I've employed 
 and turned off. My name is Blenkenstein, and I am 
 stopping at The Ashlands. If you don't believe me 
 ask the man who is behind " 
 
 "What man?" asked Mr. Bigstock incredulously. 
 
 " The man who " Blenkenstein suddenly real- 
 ized that his ally was not visible. " He was just behind 
 me in the wood there."
 
 308 The Last Day: (6) Five Minutes past Seven 
 
 " Deloosions ! " said Mr. Boke, tapping his head 
 sympathetically. " Poor chap." 
 
 " I 'ad a uncle," said the pink-faced man, with con- 
 siderable interest, " took just that way. Always used 
 to be thinkin' as he was follered, sometimes by his 
 uncle as 'ad brought 'im up, with a stick; sometimes 
 by goblings. It was the drink did it with my uncle." 
 
 " Never you mind about your uncle, Sam," said Mr. 
 Bigstock practically. " What we've got to consider is 
 where to take him." 
 
 A hope sprung up in Blenkenstein's mind. If this 
 fool took him back at once, something might still be 
 done. The hope was blighted by Mr. Boke's agency. 
 
 " I'm not advising you, constable," he said genially. 
 " You know what's what. I kin see that. But if a 
 suggestion ain't offensive, I'm wondering if they'd 
 much care to have him being a looney in the middle 
 o' the show." 
 
 " His aunt as is looking for 'im's there," said Mr. 
 Bigstock doubtfully. 
 
 " If you happened to be thinkin'," said Mr. Boke, 
 " o' taking him straight to Waybury, where he'd be 
 quieter and safer, I could go back to The Ashlands an' 
 tell the old lady. If you like. I ain't nothing on my 
 hands that would prevent it." 
 
 " Thanky," said Mr. Bigstock. " That's what I'll 
 do then. Sam ! As I said afore, this is the chanst of 
 your life. Do you think you could get round an' bring 
 your trap into the wood here ? " 
 
 " You'll rue this, you fool ! " said Blenkenstein 
 passionately. 
 
 " Quiet ! " said Mr. Bigstock soothingly, and re- 
 peated the advice when, Blenkenstein's coolness having 
 left him, he alternately threatened and adjured him.
 
 The Last Day: (6) Five Minutes past Seven 309 
 
 Blenkenstein made one last desperate effort by an 
 appeal to Mr. Boke. 
 
 " I'll give you five hundred pounds," he said, " if 
 you'll tell this fool you're lying to him." 
 
 Mr. Boke shook his head. It was doubtful if Mr. 
 Bigstock, having once got an idea into him, would con- 
 sent to have it extracted again. But, in any case, Mr. 
 Boke was beyond corruption. 
 
 " You go to Waybury, sir," he said coaxingly, " and 
 then you'll get your rights." 
 
 " A thousand ! " said Blenkenstein. 
 
 " I don't trust you, sir," said Mr. Boke in a low 
 voice, " and if I did, I wouldn't play Mr. Faviel such 
 a dirty trick, as to go back on him now. Sport's sport, 
 sir, as you may learn some day, if you try hard 
 enough." 
 
 Mr. Boke went off with the pink-faced man, and, 
 a quarter of an hour later, the pink-faced man drove 
 Mr. Bigstock and Blenkenstein to Waybury.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 THE END OF IT ALL 
 
 IT was noon on Sunday, and O'Levin was begin- 
 ning to wonder if he was ever going to succeed in 
 making Lady Mallendon realize what the rights of 
 Faviel's case were. Lady Mallendon was at once dis- 
 pleased, puzzled, offended and astonished at the various 
 things that had happened since seven o'clock the previ- 
 ous evening. The disappearance of Chy Fang was, 
 she considered, calculated to spoil the receipts of the 
 fete very greatly, if not entirely; as people could not 
 be expected to pay sixpence to see a conjurer who was 
 not there. O'Levin had suggested at the time that 
 they should pay sixpence for the privilege of being 
 allowed into the smoky booth to see if they could find 
 the conjurer; but Lady Mallendon thought this 
 savored of deception. 
 
 Secondly, the disappearance of Blenkenstein had 
 been very trying. Judith had admitted, under cross- 
 examination, that Mr. Blenkenstein had not proposed 
 to her again, and that she was very glad of it, because 
 she had made up her mind that she could not accept 
 him. Lady Mallendon had said that she did not wish 
 to say anything unkind about anybody, but she thought 
 that Judith was foolish, and that Mr. Blenkenstein 
 was unmannerly. Mr. Blenkenstein need not have pro- 
 posed, but he ought not to have gone away without 
 saying good-by. 
 
 310
 
 The End of It All 311 
 
 Thirdly, the reappearance at a late hour of Jimmy 
 and Augustus, who had been in search of the China- 
 man, it seemed, or rather of Mr. Faviel for every one 
 seemed agreed that Mr. Faviel had been the Chinaman 
 but who would not say whether they had found him 
 or not, and indeed, would say nothing, except that it 
 was all right, and Mr. Faviel would call to-morrow, 
 had vexed Lady Mallendon excessively. She did not 
 know why she should be left in the dark, or what 
 would have happened if the Chinaman, instead of 
 being Mr. Faviel and disappearing, had been a lunatic, 
 and had set on Jimmy and Augustus, and perhaps 
 killed them. She did not like to think what would 
 have happened. 
 
 Last night's happenings, then, had offended and 
 astonished Lady Mallendon. This morning's puzzled 
 and offended her. To begin with, Blenkenstein had 
 reappeared. He had only effected his release at a late 
 hour the night before, and had been, as a consequence, 
 compelled to sleep at Waybury. He had asked to see 
 Judith at once, and having seen her, had gone away. 
 An hour later Faviel had come. He had asked to see 
 O'Levin in the first place, and, having seen him, had 
 asked him to ask Judith to go into the garden. Judith 
 had gone into the garden. 
 
 "Where, I suppose, she is now?" said Lady 
 Mallendon. 
 
 " I believe so," said O'Levin. 
 
 " And you think she is going to accept Mr. Faviel ? " 
 
 " Well," said O'Levin, " I've never been enough of 
 a matchmaker meself to be able to answer for a thing 
 like that, bedad. But from what I've read, in breach 
 of promise cases and so forth, I take ut there was 
 some sort of likelihood of it. I couldn't tell ye exactly
 
 312 The End of It All 
 
 what it was that make me think it, a fire in Miss 
 Judith's eye, maybe, or a tear. I misremember which. 
 But anyway, there wasn't anybody else in the garden 
 
 that I cud see, that she was likely to engage herself 
 ^.^ 
 
 " And you think," said Lady Mallendon, " that on 
 the whole, Mr. Faviel has not behaved dishonorably? 
 Sir Jasper, I know, would never give his consent, if 
 he thought Mr. Faviel had " 
 
 " That'll be all right," said O'Levin. " Dick has 
 played cricket, as the phrase goes." 
 
 " But a cricketer," said Lady Mallendon, fixing on 
 a weak point, " is not necessarily honorable." 
 
 " It's only a phrase, I assure ye," said O'Levin. " I 
 meant Dick Faviel could hold up his head over the 
 matter, thanks to Jimmy and Butt, in part. In this 
 case, it was the babes in the wood did for the man." 
 
 " Dreadful ! " said Lady Mallendon. " I cannot 
 bear to think of it." 
 
 " They did it beautifully," said O'Levin. " Came 
 up just at the right moment couldn't have got it more 
 right if there'd been a call-boy just when Dick was 
 feeling silly from that knock on the head, and made 
 Mr. Coppenwell, as the gentleman's name is, feel like 
 a rabbit between two ferrets inside of four minutes, so 
 Faviel says. After that, friend Augustus sat on his 
 head, and Jimmy, with customary prudence, knotted 
 him up in his own braces, if ye'll excuse mintion of 
 the same." 
 
 " I think Mr. Faviel might have come back at that 
 point, or at least explained to Jimmy, and told Jimmy 
 to inform me of the circumstances, instead of doing 
 just the opposite." 
 
 " Ye see that was all in the wager," explained
 
 The End of It All 313 
 
 O'Levin patiently. " Blenkenstein arranged it all very 
 cunningly." 
 
 " Much too cunningly, I think," said Lady Mallen- 
 don severely. " I am sorry for Mr. Blenkenstein, but 
 I do not think he has behaved well, whatever Mr. 
 Faviel may have done." 
 
 " That's it," said O'Levin. " He hasn't, but he's 
 going to pay ten thousand pounds for not being on his 
 best behavior, so we ought to forgive him." 
 
 " Do you think he will ? " asked Lady Mallendon. 
 
 " I think so," said O'Levin. He had seen Blenken- 
 stein since his release not a pleasant sight to see. 
 The man's usual stolid reserve and self-satisfied 
 manner of superman had gone under at the interview; 
 and he had exhibited every phase of emotion from 
 murderous fury to abject misery. In so many words 
 he had told O'Levin that if he could have guessed the 
 way things would go, he would have caused Faviel's 
 final disappearance. He made no secret of the fact 
 that he had begun by cheating and would have ended 
 if necessary by conspiring to murder. O'Levin was 
 rather glad that he had ended up more quietly. It 
 seemed as though, at some point in the course of his 
 wooing, his fancy for Judith had developed into a 
 consuming passion, in which the mere desire of pos- 
 session had changed to something more worthy. It 
 was a revelation of an old truth that brutes can love, 
 and, loving, can cease to be altogether brutes. He 
 would do anything now to win Miss Mallendon's es- 
 teem, but he supposed she would never want to see 
 him again? O'Levin took it upon himself to say that 
 it would be distinctly inadvisable to attempt an inter- 
 view for a long time to come. He had left Blenken- 
 stein sullenly wretched; but recovering a little of his
 
 3H The End of It All 
 
 heavy cunning manner : wrapped in which, it was 
 fairly safe to assume, he would presently return to 
 his usual self neither so violent nor yet so human as 
 hate and love combined had for the moment made 
 him. O'Levin did not think fit to enlarge upon these 
 aspects of Blenkenstein to his late admirer, Lady Mal- 
 lendon, but went on : " Getting the money'll be like 
 drawing a tooth, but the tooth'll come. Ye see, we 
 have mutual acquaintances, and he will not want to 
 drop out of his circle entirely. By the way," added 
 O'Levin cunningly, seeing that Lady Mallendon had 
 begun to soften, " Dick was awfully grateful to you 
 for keeping the promise to invite the Chinaman down. 
 But for that things might have gone hard with him." 
 
 " Well, of course I am glad to have been of 
 service," said Lady Mallendon, distinctly mollified, 
 " and if only Mr. Faviel had taken me into his con- 
 fidence from the first, which you say was impossible, 
 I should have been glad to do more. As it is, Mr. 
 Faviel must blame himself if I have not seemed sym- 
 pathetic throughout." 
 
 " Oh, he does," said O'Levin. " Ye should hear 
 him." 
 
 " I wonder," said Lady Mallendon, arising as her 
 curiosity now began to outweigh her sense of injury, 
 " I wonder if they have settled anything. Shall we 
 take a turn in the garden, Mr. O'Levin? Judith is 
 so very reserved that even now, after all his adven- 
 tures for her sake, and when I think of the wardrobe 
 and the mill, and that smoky tent, and all those dread- 
 ful men whom Mr. Blenkenstein employed in so un- 
 gentlemanly a manner, it makes me quite nervous. 
 Poor Mr. Faviel may still be as far from knowing 
 what I am sure he must be very anxious to know as
 
 The End of It All 315 
 
 ever. Oh, Mr. Bayford," added Lady Mallendon, as 
 the rector was announced on their way out, " how good 
 of you to come! I hope you have excused our want 
 of attendance this morning, but really, after yesterday, 
 no one except Sir Jasper felt fit to stir, and I believe 
 he went off to have a bathe." 
 
 " Cleanliness," said Mr. Bayford felicitously, " is 
 next to godliness, next to godliness. I trust you are 
 none the worse for yesterday's exertion. The charity 
 must be very grateful to you, very grateful, I am 
 sure." 
 
 " Not a bit," said Lady Mallendon. " And Mr. 
 Wormyer is coming, I hope? " 
 
 " Wormyer," said Mr. Bayford, " has already come. 
 He has gone into the garden." 
 
 " Let us go, too," said Lady Mallendon. " Lunch 
 won't be for a quarter of an hour yet." 
 
 " Has anything," inquired Mr. Bayford, as they 
 took their way in that direction, " has anything been 
 heard of that unfortunate young man who disappeared 
 yesterday ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Lady Mallendon, pleased to be able 
 to instruct rather than be instructed, " he has come 
 back. In fact he is in the garden now, proposing to 
 my niece." 
 
 " How very romantic, and and astonishing ! " 
 said Mr. Bayford. " Truly astonishing, and ro- 
 mantic ! " 
 
 " Yes, we are very pleased about it," said Lady 
 Mallendon. " Mr. Faviel is so very nice, he is a great 
 traveler, you know; but the wager he has just won 
 really puts any of his previous achievements quite into 
 the shade." 
 
 And she related details of this affair to Mr. Bayford,
 
 316 The End of It All 
 
 until it was not clear to O'Levin whether Mr. Bayford 
 or she were the more mystified. 
 
 " I did hear from one of my parishioners this 
 morning," said Mr. Bayford, " of the unfortunate, or, 
 as it turns out, most fortunate mistake made by the 
 constable from Waybury. The constable himself is 
 naturally indignant at losing a chance of kudos, so 
 they say, so they say. Good-morning, Miss Finch. 
 Fresh as ever after the dramatic triumphs, fresh as 
 ever, I see." 
 
 Miss Finch looked indeed rather fresher than ever, 
 as she stood there in front of Mr. Bayford, with Mr. 
 Wormyer by her side. Her cheeks were aglow, as 
 with a recent blush, and the glow was renewed, as 
 Mr. Wormyer, who had something of the eel in his 
 manner, suddenly spoke out. 
 
 " Lady Mallendon, Mr. Bayford," said Mr. Worm- 
 yer painfully. " There is something that I ought, I 
 think, to tell you." 
 
 " Good gracious ! " said Lady Mallendon, not a little 
 alarmed. 
 
 " Speak up, Wormyer, speak up," said Mr. Bayford 
 encouragingly. 
 
 " I have, that is to say, Robina and I," said Mr. 
 Wormyer, shyly but manfully, " are engaged to be 
 married." 
 
 " My dear Miss Finch ! " said Lady Mallendon 
 kindly. 
 
 " Robina and you, Wormyer," said Mr. Bayford, 
 " are engaged to be who, Wormyer, is Robina ? " 
 
 " Miss Finch," said Mr. Wormyer, " is is to be 
 the lodestar of my lonely life, if I may say so." 
 
 " Oh, ah," said Mr. Bayford, shaking his head gaily 
 at Miss Finch. " I perceive, I understand. Worm-
 
 The End of It All 317 
 
 yer, Wormyer ! You are a lucky man, a fortunate fel- 
 low. Miss Finch, Robina, as perhaps I should call 
 you; Wormyer is a good fellow; I know Wormyer 
 well. I congratulate you both, heartily, heartily." 
 
 Mr. Bayford hastened on with Lady Mallendon, 
 leaving O'Levin to tender his congratulations. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Bayford, in response to Lady 
 Mallendon's question. " I am pleased, thoroughly 
 pleased. It will increase Wormyer 's standing if he is 
 married. It will increase his standing." 
 
 " And about their income ? " asked Lady Mallen- 
 don. 
 
 " Wormyer is getting a hundred a year," said Mr. 
 Bayford. " I shall make a point of seeing that he has 
 a hundred and twenty in future. Wormyer is a good 
 fellow, a good fellow." 
 
 Any comment that Lady Mallendon might have 
 been going to make upon this generous undertaking of 
 Mr. Bayford's, was put out of her mind by the ap- 
 pearance, round a bend of the path, of Judith and 
 Faviel. 
 
 " Have you come to congratulate me, Auntie ? " said 
 Judith. 
 
 " Yes," said Lady Mallendon. " I mean that I have 
 come to congratulate Mr. Faviel." 
 
 Mr. Faviel was delighted, as he had every reason 
 to be. 
 
 " It's awfully nice of you to say so," he said, " after 
 my disgraceful behavior. But I couldn't very well 
 help it, you know, once I had taken on the wager." 
 
 " No, of course not," said Lady Mallendon warmly. 
 " It was all Mr. Blenkenstein's fault." 
 
 " Or Judith's," suggested Faviel. " So my aunt, 
 whom I saw on my way here, said. She is very sorry
 
 318 The End of It All 
 
 for Blenkenstein. She says he behaved very gen- 
 erously." 
 
 " Where is Miss Faviel ? " asked Lady Mallendon. 
 " I should like to see her again now that she is to be 
 Judith's aunt. I mean, of course, that I should like 
 it anyhow, but particularly for that reason." 
 
 " She said she was going to lunch at the Warleys'." 
 
 " Couldn't we send over and fetch her, and the 
 Warleys too? " suggested Lady Mallendon hospitably. 
 
 " Not for lunch, Aunt Georgy," said Judith. " We 
 might for tea. There's a friend of Dick's there too," 
 Judith blushed a little " Mr. Wilton. Dick thinks 
 that he's in love with Etta." 
 
 " How nice ! " said Lady Mallendon. " Then of 
 course he would come too, wouldn't he? It would be 
 so nice, wouldn't it? " she said to Mr. Bayford, mov- 
 ing on again as the lunch-bell sounded. " Three en- 
 gaged couples, all so unexpected." 
 
 " Quite a gathering of love-birds," said Mr. Bay- 
 ford. " Quite a collection of love-birds. Ha ! lunch- 
 eon, I perceive, luncheon ! " 
 
 Later in the day, when the gathering had actually 
 been effected, Jimmy and Butt, at a suggestion from 
 O'Levin, combined to decoy Mr. Bayford to the distant 
 cottage of a parishioner: that of the deaf old lady, 
 who only used her ear-trumpet on state occasions. 
 This having been successfully accomplished, every one 
 felt, as O'Levin said, that there was nothing left to 
 wish for. 
 
 THE END
 
 DOROTHY CANFIELD'S THE SQUIRREL- CAGE 
 
 Illustrated by J. A. WILLIAMS. 3rd printing. $1.35 net. 
 
 This is, first of all, an unusually personal and real story of 
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 pathy." New York Sun. 
 
 R. E. VERNEDE'S THE FLIGHT OF FAVIEL 
 
 With frontispiece by GEORGE VARIAN. $1.25 net. 
 
 This story is a new version of the author's " The Pursuit of 
 Mr. Faviel," which has met with artistic as well as com- 
 mercial success in England, and introduces a promising nov- 
 elist to the American public. 
 
 Mr. Faviel, light-heartedly, and not foreseeing the conse- 
 quences, starts to win a wager that he can disappear abso- 
 lutely for a month without being discovered even by detec- 
 tives. A love story and the machinations of a ruthless rival 
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 The climax is as unexpected as it is agreeable. There is con- 
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 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
 
 BOOKS TO MAKE ELDERS YOUNG AGAIti 
 By INEZ HAYNES GILLMORE 
 
 PHOEBE AND ERNEST 
 
 With 30 illustrations by R. F. SCHABELITZ. $1.50. 
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 vertiser. 
 
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 PHOEBE, ERNEST, AND CUPID 
 
 Illustrated by R. F. SCHABELITZ. Probable price, $1.30 net. 
 In this sequel to the popular "Phoebe and Ernest," each 
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 " Phoebe and the Little Blind God " " Phoebe Among the 
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 Closes with Cupid " " The Discoveries " " The House 
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 Illustrated by ADA C. WILLIAMSON. $1.25 net. 
 
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 BEULAH MARIE DIX'S THE FIGHTING BLADE 
 
 By the author of " The Making of Christopher Ferringham," 
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 The "fighting blade" is a quiet, boyish German soldier 
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 DONAL HAMILTON HAINES'S THE RETURN OF PIERRE 
 
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 ROMAIN HOLLAND'S 
 
 JEAN-CHRISTOPHE 
 
 DAWN MORNING YOUTH REVOLT 
 
 Translated by GILBERT CANNAN. 
 
 600 pp. $1.50 net; by mail, $1.62. 
 
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 JEAN-CHRISTOPHE IN PARIS 
 
 THE MARKET-PLACE 
 ANTOINETTE THE HOUSE 
 
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 WILLIAM DE MORGAN'S NOVELS 
 
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 . . . All brave and humorous and gay, and all trailing clouds 
 of glory from the fairyland from which they have just come." 
 
 JOSEPH VANCE 
 
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 ALICE -FOR -SHORT 
 
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 SOMEHOW GOOD 
 
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 AN AFFAIR OF DISHONOR 
 
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 charming fancy greatly." New York Sun. 
 
 A Likely Story, $1.35 net; the others, $1.75 each. 
 
 *** A thirty-two page illustrated leaflet about Mr. De Morgan, with 
 complete reviews of his first four books, sent on request. 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
 
 Grant Allen's Historical Guides 
 
 Each, 'complete in itself and sold separately, rounded 
 corners, pocket size, $1.50 net; by mail, $1.58. 
 
 CLASSICAL ROME 
 
 By H. STUART JONES. 
 
 "Few men could be so well equipped for the task of its 
 composition as the author, who was the head, for a time, of 
 the British archaeological school in Rome, and is well known 
 for his special studies in a very important part of the field 
 covered by this book." Nation. 
 
 FLORENCE 
 
 (New edition, revised and illustrated.) 
 By GRANT ALLEN ; revised by J. W. and A. M. CRUICKSHANK. 
 
 "A new edition of a standard guide-book, containing some 
 new details on the monuments and revised to conform with 
 many changes in the arrangement of the museums and new 
 information. A new feature is thirty-two illustrations." 
 American Library Association Book List. 
 
 "They have turned the museums at Florence topsy-turvy 
 of late years, so that this new edition has become necessary. 
 The editing has been entrusted to thoroughly competent 
 hands." New York Sun. 
 
 CHRISTIAN ROME 
 
 (New edition, revised and illustrated.) 
 
 By J. W. and A. M. CRUICKSHANK. 
 
 " Uniform with the new edition of Allen's Florence It has 
 been enlarged about twenty pages over the first edition, and 
 contains thirty-two new productions of paintings to be used 
 in comparison with those in Rome." American Library 
 Association Book List. 
 
 "Admirably compact and helpful." Dial. 
 
 SMALLER TUSCAN TOWNS 
 
 (New volume, illustrated.) By GRANT ALLEN. 
 
 CITIES OF BELGIUM 
 (New edition, revised and illustrated.) By GRANT ALLKN. 
 
 UMBRIAN TOWNS 
 
 (New edition, revised and illustrated.) 
 
 By J. W. and A. M. CRUICKSHANK. 
 
 PARIS. By GRANT ALLEN. 8th edition. Illustrated. 
 
 VENICE. By GRANT ALLEN. ;th edition. Illustrated. 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 
 34 WEST 330 STRMT NEW YORK
 
 A 000 038 792 8
 
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